Guns women dating

Subleasing a room (1 out of 4B4/2.5Bath)

2020.10.24 04:47 3amshitposting Subleasing a room (1 out of 4B4/2.5Bath)

Hello people searching for housing! My roommates and I are subleasing a room from late November till August '21. The apartment is fully furnished, has an upstairs/downstairs, is close to multiple bus lines, good internet, streaming services, and has an in-unit washedryer. It's near Krannert, Caffe Paradiso, Alumni Center, Loomis, Hendrick House, 2 Circle Ks, and ISR.
Rent is $490 with utilities included. The security deposit is $450. The apartment is part of Gillespie Properties, located in Urbana (don't wanna give away our exact address but if you PM me I can give you the exact location, or you can go on their website). If you're interested in seeing photos, PM me and I will share a google drive folder with you that contains photos and a video.
You MUST be queer friendly, as two of the roommates are trans women. Also, two of the roommates are dating so you must be okay with us dating (no PDA, the most we do is hold hands while watching TV in the common area). You need to tell us if you are a gun owner before moving in. The apartment allows fish and reptiles but no birds or mammals (unless of course it's a service animal or ESA)
Furniture included:

We're all undergrad juniors with majors in advertising, poli sci, and bio. We are open minded, like music, TV, movies (horror, stand up, dramas, sci fi), politics, memes, art, and theater. If you think you'd vibe with us and need a place, let us know! :)
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2020.10.24 04:16 mot2345 Would you date a conservative bisexual man?

I have been going on many dates with this one man and I like him a lot even though there is a bit of an age gap. He is in his mid-30s and I am in the early 20s. He is very kind, just a very good-looking man, sex is fantastic, and for the most part, conversations are interesting and extremely engaging. He listens and I like that he seems to be genuinely interested in what is going on with me and my life. He got that old school chivalry and I like that a lot. He got a lot.of great qualities that I share. He said he wants a serious relationship and ready to settle down and ask if it is what I want because he said he really likes me. And I am down with a serious relationship.
My problem is that he is extremely conservative and has a lot of conservative views. I won't go into all the details but he came from small-town rural. He referred to more liberal people as snowflakes once (though he did apologize. I am liberal) He also owns a lot of guns which bothers me a bit—I am talking about several pistols and long guns. Why would anyone needs that many guns?! He said it is like a hobby...he also carries a pistol concealed almost all the time. When I said I don't believe there is a need for that, he said I should go shooting with him and give it a chance first...which is kind of...okay? That won't change my mind. He is also religious while I am not at all which he thinks is fine but it does affect how he feels about a lot of things.
Also, he is bisexual. And I know this shouldn't say anything but I have never been with anyone who is bisexual. And I asked if he generally prefers men or women. I felt a bit shitty because I think the question irritated him but he eventually said he generally prefers women but that it doesn't mean anything. He said likes the person then he likes the person which is fair enough, I guess. But it makes me feel a bit insecure tbh. What if one day he decided he wants a woman, especially since he wants kids. (Also, he remains friends with one of his ex who is a woman, and beautiful).
So I guess my questions are:
Would you date someone who is extremely conservative while you are not?
Have you been in a relationship with someone who is so different in beliefs and does it work out?
Should I worry about the fact that he is bisexual and prefers women over men?
(I don't mean to offend anyone who is bisexual. It is just my insecurity and I am just needing honest help)
Thanks in advance for the wisdom and guidance!
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2020.10.23 19:16 S_park28 I think I love my boss, despite us both being married. We have a platonic friendship that sometimes feels like more, but its probably all in my head. I dreamt I'd fall for someone I worked with before I ever even considered applying for my current job/position.

Me 20yr F
Boss 25yr M
Husband 26yr M
(We're all religious and believe that dreams mean things so I'm not sure that the general public will understand the significance of this... but anyways here we go.)
DREAM
I had a dream on march 15th that I was working with someone. We had a lot of elaborate jokes in the dream and we spent a ton of time together just driving around, listening to music. Just becoming really good friends. But I knew that I liked him. The dream depicted how close we were, that I could jump into his arms wrapping my arms and legs around him in a big hug. He was so kind to me, and I just began to care more and more deeply about him. (I write down all of my dreams) I described where we worked, he sat at a desk in a garage type setting or an empty warehouse. I wrote "there was a business plan that I was helping him with, we were designing something like a model, using blueprints and things." we had been building our project and things suddenly got intimate, but its hard to describe.. it was still in a friendly way, not so much a romantic way. but a little of both. I expressed my feelings for him and how I didn't want to lose him. I got on my knees facing him in the chair bashfully explaining myself. Slowly I inched upwards until we were almost chest to chest, I finished my speech and there was a pause of silence. I didn't feel discouraged by it. I didn't feel anxious, or even afraid. I didn't worry about his reaction because he had always accepted me. During the silence I licked him playfully on the cheek just to break the endless string of thought he must have been having. He whispered against my ear saying that he felt the same way. It was so vivid in the dream, that I remember I was shaking and had to pull away because the attraction and the feeling was so strong. I knew he wanted me, and I wanted him. The baggage was nonexistent it seemed. He pulled away from me, looked me in the eyes and said that we were going to go slow, and make sure that we never lost this feeling. That was it.
IRL
I had that dream in March, began working at my current job in April. I met my boss, and he was nothing super special to me for the first few months. Then, things in my marriage began to go south and I confided in him. One of the biggest things that pulls me in is he's always supportive of my marriage. He encourages me and tells me I'm a perfect (but not flawless) wife. Tells me not give up, (here's the religious part) and tells me to make sure that if my marriage does fail, it isn't because I wasn't doing my part. He just tells me to keep going and have faith. He has such a strong desire to serve the Lord and that resonates with me.
I met and married my husband at 17. He was 23. We waited until we were engaged to hold hands, had our first kiss on our wedding day, and of course did not have sex until we were married. So I never anticipated having the issues that we have. Simply because he was so good. He listened to his parents and always said his prayers. He was what appeared to be the best choice for me. A year into our marriage, shortly after I gave him his first child, he began to cheat on me. Full on dating other women, taking them to fancy hotels, bringing them home to my own bed. Or if he cant get away with that he says that he can't have his girl over because he "Lives with his sister". I've come home to women climbing out my bedroom window, wedding pictures stripped from the walls and shoved under the couch etc. I found out about the cheating that has gone on for over 2 years about 8 months ago. We (again being religious and not believing in divorce the same way the world does.) have tried to reconcile several times. It always happens again. Most recently, He went to jail on a 2nd degree felony. The charge? "entice solicit seduce or lure a minor by internet" We all worked at the same place manufacturing guns, so being charged with a felony means he now looses his job (you cant work with firearms if you're a felon), he will likely have to register as a sex offender, who knows what rules will be put in place for seeing his own kids depending on how the sentencing plays out, he's nearly lost me and broken all the trust between himself, me, his parents etc. The church will frown upon this for sure. Everything, he made such a stupid choice that has cost him his job and family and I just can not understand it!! How stupid can you be!? He spent 3 weeks in jail. As you can imagine I've just been completely pained by the entire experience, because he was never like this... until he was. He got out of jail (Bailed out by his parents and himself, aka his paycheck that came in, bail was set at $30,000) on Oct 5th. He started texting women sexually attempting to meet up just a week later on Oct. 14th. ONE WEEK. It took one week for him to make the same mistakes all over again.
I continued to get close to my boss, who reassures me and helps me in any way that he can. He knows just about everything. I tell him almost everything... He makes me feel wanted, and valued. He compliments me, and tells me how boring work is without me. We text so much throughout the day and its so fun and playful, its become the highlight of my life. I almost never want to go home. I'd rather be at work! Which is something I've never once experienced. He has given me over $1,000 simply because I couldn't pay my bills. He has such a fantastic attitude and never expects anything in return (we believe in consecration, or turning everything over to the Lord, so in his mind it is Heavenly Fathers money, and not his own.) He texts me a lot and its the tiniest things that make me feel like he KNOWS I have feelings for him, and it feels like he's entertaining them. I'll ask to eat lunch with him and rather than reply "Yeah sure" he says "Please". He was talking to me about how I need to get my oil changed in my car, and then he just out of no where asked if I can cook. I was surprised and said "sure I can." to which he then offers to change my oil IF I would bake him cookies... (we have an upcoming trip planned together with him, his wife, my husband and myself where we will be carpooling. He knows I cant afford anything, so he offers a trade. He also offered to pay for the hotel.) He's just super kind. But I can sense things are going farther than just regular "friends" would. We've stayed at work until 2am, just talking when we clock out at 5pm!! or he will come to my house and we talk outside until 4am despite both of us freezing to death the whole time. He will bring me breakfast if he knows I didn't eat. I just feel like were getting extremely close, and I'm getting attached.
Then it hit me. That dream. I remembered that dream I had so long ago, went and read what I had wrote and was stunned to find so many similarities. What did that dream mean? I've never worked anywhere like this, so its hard to believe my brain just made this up out of thin air. I don't believe its a coincidence. I worked at a medical clinic before this job and mostly receptionist positions, if I was just dreaming about work, why was it in a garage, or looking at blueprint? Surely I would have dreamt about a similar job I had, like a receptionist desk. Where we work now is EXACTLY like the dream I had! We work in a big warehouse that has another separate garage. I'm in quality control and he is an engineer so we spend all day looking at print (basically white blueprints) and for the last few weeks we have been working together almost every single day on confidential things for the business. (we are just working in R&D [research and development] building new guns, test firing them in the range and things like that.) But it feels like the dream too. I feel like I'm so close to him...
I can't divorce my husband as I truly believe with all that I am that I made a vow to be with him until death. I aim to keep that promise even if its miserable because I did say "for better or worse". (The bible talks about adulatory and how that man will be destroyed. but it also says that if your husband would like to dwell with you, you should dwell with him. and if he is living wrong, you can still live a righteous life and sanctify him. So I'm torn on what heavenly father wants me to do. But my #1 priority is to make my choices in a way that's pleasing to him.) However, in our church, (rarely) there are cases where people do remarry. in the case of death, or we had someone's husband leave them because he decided he was gay... so that was an appropriate thing for the woman's family. I don't know what to do with these feelings I have for my boss, I most certainly can not tell my husband. I'm not confident enough to tell my boss. I'm worried he will try to distance from me if I make it weird... I find myself hoping one day my husband will leave me, so at least then I can say it was not my fault and just go be with my boss. Ha. but that is so wrong.
Any interpretations on what this dream means? why do you think this has happened the way it did. What do YOU think I should do? This is probably my biggest secret...
I'm married. But I'm in love with my boss.
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2020.10.23 18:01 HighAsfck24-7 My (M19) ex GF (F20) is stalking me and leaving me notes at my house, my new GF (F34) is getting upset and wants to hurt my ex.

In high school I dated my ex and we didn't last because she just wanted to date around and sleep around. We dated for a short time, but I loved her for years before that. When I was 18 and a freshman in college, I met my girlfriend. She and I have similar interests and some of the same hobbies and we get along well.
We do a lot together and I love her because I am truly happy with her and because she is so good to me. My mom was actually not upset with my girlfriend's age because I had already told her I was more into older women than girls my age and I also let her neet my GF and get along with her on their own.
My mom is also very overprotective and can even get super pissed if someone does something to someone in our family-she takes things tio seriously. Well my ex knows about my relationship because she talks with my mom a lot when I'm not there and I talk to her sometimes. My GF is completely aware of the situation too. Well, my my ex begged me to get back with her and she went as far as stalking me and even found out where my GF and I live.
She told my mom a bunch of lies and told her that my GF physically and emotionally abuses me, and she also made up lies and told my mom that my GF met me when I was still in high school and a minor. I told my mom the truth and my ex has caused a lot of problems. Hpw do I get my ex to leave me alone? I've blocked her on everything and she still somehow finds a way to try and talk to me. She's made over 20 fake accounts and more than 2 numbers to talk.
She also leaves notes and letters in the mail and things are too much. I have reported her to the police and the process is taking kind of long and I can tell my GF is pissed and she wants to take things into her own hands (she bought a gun recently while she isn't really a gun person). I don't want there to be a serious problem and don't know what else to do. I don't want this to hurt my relationship with my wonderful GF. What do I do about my ex?
submitted by HighAsfck24-7 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.10.23 17:03 Joker_ERP [M4A] (A playing as F) Massive RP drop! (Rule 34, fandoms, OC, Incest Ect.)

Hey there! Today I’ve got a massive list of rp ideas and have written out some starters along with some ideas to how I see the rp going. I’m open to change and ready to do other ideas too. So if you feel like you’ve got an idea I might be interested in feel free to talk to me about those: ).
As for my replies. I write in first person mainly and my reply length varies. I generally do anything from a few sentences to a paragraph or more and generally require my partner to do the same. Fair warning the less detail you reply with the less interested I’ll be in rping with you. (Not looking for a few words as a response)
I enjoy having a story to go along with the smut so it’s not just constant sex, some cute or action driven moments are fun as well. – Hand holding and cute dates are pleasant! I mainly do my rps on kik, discord or here. I also have an RP facebook account, so feel free to ask for my users for those! : )
My kinks and limits list might be a big read, but none are compulsory. I’m just here to have fun and hopefully meet some cool rp partners : )
Kinks: Harems (Which might be obvious with my post), Incest, Outercourse (Which is stuff like titjobs, thigh jobs, grinding, hot dogging) Risky public spaces (Toilet stalls, changing booths. That kinda thing where people could get caught.) Facials, Freckles (Face and body). Big/nicely shaped bums (Especially if they jiggle). Creampies, Cum on tits/body, big cumshots, Thigh high socks. showewater sex (pools, shower, hot tubs ect.) Mutual desire for sex.
Limits: Pregnancy (Hard limit sorry), Vomit, Piss, Blood, Toilet stuff, Rape, Gangbangs (Unless it’s multiple females) Male on Male, futas, rimming/pegging.
There might be more that I’m forgetting so if you’re unsure feel free to ask me! The rougher side of sex like Name calling, slapping choking spanking I can all do as well! : ) Without further ado let’s jump into the starters!
Here's the basic list of ideas if you wanted to look them over before reading the full posts. I’m also open to some ideas that I may have missed!
Rule 34/Fandom ideas: Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia. Idea 2: Pokemon Idea 3: Naruto Idea 4: Bleach Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender Idea 6: Persona (Girls from 4 and 5) Idea 7: Harry Potter.
OC Ideas: Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. Idea 9: Only Man of the town. Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. Idea 11: Scifi space crew.
Incest Ideas: Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Idea 14: Incest family vacation.
Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia.
(So my character will be a transfer into Class 1-A. His power is the power of persuasion. With the power he’s able to convince someone to do something as if it’s their own will. However, he’s hesitant to use it on other people and to tell everyone he even has it as he’s been outcast at his last school for the villainous nature of his quirk. As such he can’t use it to its full extent and can only issue small commands to begin with.
My idea with this is that one or more (cannon or non) of the girls decide to help him out in a private setting and overtime it gets more and more sexual in nature. And as he becomes more confident, he’s able to issue more longer-term commands. This can also be mixed in well with some story and some action to keep the plot interesting.)
Starter: It was a day which started like most others in Class 1-A. The students got ready in the dorms and headed to class to chat among themselves while they waited for Aizawa to enter. However, unlike most days there seemed to be an extra desk placed in the room. The seat caused some confusion which didn’t last long as the first bell rang and Aizawa entered the room.
“Morning everyone.” He stated in his mainly bored and sleepy tone which seemed to sound like he was stifling a yawn. “Today we’ve got a new student transferring in from another school. He’s from Shiketsu, some of you may recognize the name since it’s got the same level as prestige as U.A. but regardless make sure he feels welcome.” He said pointing a sweeping stare at everyone and finally resting on the problem child of the U.A class Bakugo.
With that he fell silent and I felt it was my cue to enter. Swallowing a little at the nerves I steeled them quickly and entered. My blue eyes sweeping over some of the familiar faces in the room. Many of the students had standout performances in the UA sports festival and as well in the news reports about the villain attack on the training camp.
I had a lot to live up to if I wanted to join these legends in training but regardless, I was determined to do just that. Breathing a little and shifting my auburn hair from my eyes I smiled the best I could. “My name is Schwarzer, Chris Schwarzer. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” I say bowing to the class.
Satisfied with the introduction Aizawa nodded to the spare seat in the room. Taking that as an order I nodded back and headed over to my seat sitting down and getting my books out. Curiously I turned to the seat next to me noticing one of the girls in the class and gave her a slight smile as Aizawa began his lesson.
Idea 2: Pokemon: (So this one is super simple. Some trainers or a trainer and his Pokémon go on a grand adventure. For this one my favourite Canon female are: Marnie, May, Hilda and May. And my favourite Anthro Pokémon are Lopunny, Arcanine, Blaiziken That’s just for reference though and you can really play whoever you like!)
Trainer x Trainer Starter:
I like many others in the world of Pokémon have just started on my journey. Although I had done so a little late. Regardless me and my starter Pokémon Aipom which was a gift from my late father. Setting off with excitement to make a name of myself.
That excitement wore off pretty quickly however as an advanced trainer stepped in my path and soon, I realized how big the gap between us was. He wiped the floor with my aipom and laughed as he took my “Prize money” Scooping up my aipom I rushed through the rest of the route and over to the next town ducking quickly into the Pokémon centre.
Looking around there was a few new trainers who seemed to have fallen to the same fate as I had and I shook my head. Guys like that were total assholes and without hesitating I headed over to the counter where the nurse took my Aipom from me. Once he was gone, I was told there was going to be a short wait due to the amount of Pokémon they had to treat. I nodded as I headed over and sat down in one of the seats.
Trainer x Anthro Pokemon Starter. (So similar to the starter above, rather than having a trainer my character goes on adventures with it’s a Pokémon. Just being transparent that there’s NO circumstances that I’ll do feral, I’m looking for ANTHRO Pokémon only!)
A little way into my journey and I’ve heard reports of a rare Pokémon deep in the surrounding forest. Not wanting to miss the chance to catch it I braved the depths of the forest keeping an eye out for the Pokémon.
Soon I came across a large clearing with a rock. On top was the Pokémon in question no doubt about it. It was strangely human in appearance and without hesitating I sent out my Pokémon. An Aipom. “Alright buddy tackle!” I whispered. Aipom nodded as it charged out of the clearing and threw its body towards the Pokémon in question.
Idea 3: Naruto ( So for this one I like the idea that my character is a young nomadic mercenary hired by the leaf to help train the ninja of the village, maybe he also has some kind of hidden power that boosts his chakra but also increases his libido. Not too sure how I wanna go about this one. )
Starter: The Hokage Tsunade Senju looked over me with a curious gaze and then down to my application form. “You’re younger than I expected given everything you’ve done.” She stated honestly. “But the intelligence division did a thorough search into you and you check out.” She stated as she slammed the approved stamp down onto my paper.
“Just remember, if you do anything to endanger this village, I’ll snuff you out personally.” She said in an icy and threatening tone. Feeling a cold bead of sweat roll down the side of my face I nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” I say. Internally I make a mental note not to cross her in any way. “Good.” She said putting a smile across her features. “Your first group is down on the training field waiting for you already.” She stated. “Your lodgings will be set up by the time you’re done, here’s the key.” She said tossing the key to me which I caught and stuffed into my pocket. I was a little shocked with how quick she wanted me to get to work but I nodded. “Right!” I say giving a respectful bow before heading out.
It took me a little longer than expected to actually find the training grounds as I hadn’t ever been here before. And when I got there much to her credit there were a few ninja standing around. Approaching them I gave them a sheepish smile. “Sorry I’m late guys.” I called out. “I got lost.” I added on.
Idea 4: Bleach ( So a new human soul reaper makes it into the soul society. His power isn’t captain level to begin with simply being enough to take out the average hollow. And with the resurgence of the hollow threat the Soul Society has offered to give him a substitute badge to take out those hollows deemed too small for the soul society to handle. Maybe he’s paired up with someone or someone like Orihime steps in to help him grow. )
Starter: Another boring day at school followed by a night of boring patrols. With all the big hollows being taken care of by “Full-fledged” Soul reapers it didn’t leave me with much opportunity to train against bigger enemies.
At least that’s what I thought originally. A few blocks from me there was a rift which opened up and the pure spiritual pressure that came from the hollow that stepped out of it was enough to make me feel as though gravity itself was pushing against me.
It was hard to breathe and even harder to stand as my hand clutched my blade in my left hand tightly. I shook my head as I heard the loud roar of the large breast and could even see it’s towering form from my position.
It was nothing close to a menos, but it was enough to tower over a three-story building for sure. “Shit.” I hissed to myself as I knew there were no soul reapers around at this stage. With a threat this big I was sure they’d come, but until then it was up to me to buy some time and make sure no humans or souls were consumed.
Pushing myself forward I reached the park that the Hollow had appeared in. Thankfully the park was deserted at this time of night. When he saw me the hollow. “You don’t smell like much, but you’ll do as a snack.” The hollow commented as it charged forward. “Just evade, buy time.” I comment to myself as I began to leap around the battle field looking a bit like and feeling like an idiot.
The hollow toyed with me a little while enjoying the chase before it seemed to ger bored. Just when I was thinking I was fast enough to keep avoiding it the creature’s mouth opened and its forked tongue shot out at me with faster speed than I was anticipating I raised my blade to defend myself but it was a feeble attempt and I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender ( So for this one I guess it can go two different ways. My fave girls from Avatar would probably be Ty Lee, Suki and Toph. Maybe my character is a powerful bender that either the fire nation or team Avatar wants on their side. I think it might be cool to think that Aang isn’t the only airbender and instead a small faction managed to escape and continue the lineage. Either that or my character is a powerful firebender of some kind. I’ll leave whichever you prefer to you in your first reply as I’ll leave it open ended.)
Starter: The world was at war ever since the Fire nation attacked. With the intense fighting came mercenaries. Freelance benders or soldiers ready to fight on either side. For a fee of course. And despite my age, being only eighteen I was quite renown amongst the other bounty hunters for my bending.
Of course, there were talks of the Avatar returning, having repelled an invasion in the south pole, the liberation of Omashu and then the fire nation prison. It seemed they were making quite the stir in the earth kingdom.
It’d only be a matter of time before they reached the small town, I was in. Perhaps they were already here. But if that was the case surely there would be some kind of stir. Pushing my hair from my face I ordered another drink from the barkeep. “You know you’re my favourite customer Schwarzer…. You’re the only one who consistently pays his tab. Unlike the rest of these soldiers or the workers around here.” The older man says in clear annoyance.
“Well who knows, if I wasn’t so successful, I’d probably mooch off you too.” I admitted with a grin. “Try not to talk too ill of the soldiers on either side.” I added on flicking him an extra coin for a tip once my drink was finished. “Well I better check if anyone has a job for me.” I say as I pushed myself up from my seat.
Idea 6: Persona ( So basically this is just gonna be a fairly interesting idea. My character along with the girls of persona 4 and 5 get stranded in this strange dimension where they have to fight their way out to make it back to their own worlds. )
Starter: It all happened so fast. One minute I was in a team meeting with my group discussing what we should use our newfound powers for next. And the next second, I had blinked and I was in some kind of strange room.
One by one more people were added into this room. Some of which were dressed in some elaborate costumes. And I frowned as I looked to each one of them, all of which I didn’t recognize at all and judging by their looks they didn’t recognize me. Although before we managed to introduce ourselves a booming voice broke the silence.
“Welcome all!” The clearly male voice commented. “To the room of my design.” He added on. “I’m sure you’re all confused. And no doubt you’ll want to return back to your homes. However, to do so you’ll need to enter my labyrinth. “Make it to the end and you’ll all return home.” The voice explained.
“Of course, this maze isn’t without its dangers. Enemies, much like you encounter on a regular basis will roam these halls. As well as beasts of my own design far stronger than those… Fear no though for every check point you reach this room will become more furnished with amenities. For now, you simply have beds to rest on.” He said as there was an audible click and the dark room was suddenly lit up. Sure, enough there were rows of beds all lined up one for each person to sleep on.
“When you’re ready to test yourselves step through this door and enter the first level of the labyrinth.” He declared as a large door appeared and opened up in front of them. For a while nobody said anything probably all too stunned to even process the information. “So, I’m guessing we’re all persona users given what he just said.” I spoke up. “I guess we should probably start with names and strengths, right?” I questioned the group. “I’m Chris Schwarzer.” I say. “My persona Serapth focuses on ranged combat.” I explained.
Idea 7: Harry Potter ( So to keep this one interesting I’m thinking of having it set in an AU where Voldemort and Harry don’t exist. However, there are still dark wizards who are part of a cult around. Defs looking for a Hermionie, Luna or Ginny, you could even have other celebs/ecelebs as teachers or students for this one! )
Starter: Another year at Hogwarts, the last for some; and another year of learning was right around the corner. Although times were not peaceful in the wizarding world. Aurors who were the police of the magical world were going missing or showing up dead.
The ministry not wanting to make a panic kept it fairly under wraps, however some of the families have come forward with the information and rumours abounded about what was really happening. Stepping off the train I sighed a little rubbing my temple where a headache had begun to set in. During the train ride here, I found myself stuck next to a boy who wouldn’t stop going on about the rumours and conspiracy theories.
Glad to be off the train I looked around for a minute lost as to where I needed to go. “I know it’s around here somewhere.” I commented, although my sense of direction was always off. Usually I followed everyone else. But this time it seemed I was one of the last ones off the train.
Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. (This one is fairly basic in nature. Basically, a young man with little combat experience leaves his poor hunting village once he’s of age and sets off to join the adventurer’s guild to make a name for himself and also to send money back home. He’s fairly modest, naive and kind hearted. Which makes him likable and easy to take advantage of.
We could add a story with war elements, racism and darker themes to show him that the world he idolizes isn’t as cracked up as he thought it’d be. Ideally, I’d like a full harem party for this one but I’m cool with one on one too.)
Starter: It had been a few days since I was finally able to leave the small village, I was raised in behind me. Sword on hip and keen to become an adventurer. Of course, I also wanted to make a name for myself and I was even more excited to see everything the world had to offer. With driving me forward I headed from my village over to the closest city which had a guild branch. A city called Ruan. It was nearly five times the size of my village if not more and yet it was nothing close to the capital city of Grancel.
Smooth dirt paths soon gave way to cobblestone and my boots clacked rhythmically against the pavement as my steps soon got faster and faster as Ruan came into view. My stomach was in knots as I gripped the straps on my bag tightly and after steeling my nerves and taking in the sight of the large city, I headed through the large stone arch to the busy streets beyond.
My excited eyes looked around at every nook and cranny as I took in every detail that was on offer. Soon coming across the large marble and wood building of the adventurer’s guild in front of me. I stood in front of the large building clearly awestruck and for a moment I felt completely overwhelmed. This was it. This was the first step I was going to take on my journey and yet I felt far too nervous to head inside. Instead I stood there shaking slightly as I tried to work up the courage to push those large oak doors aside and declare my presence to the world.
Idea 9: Man of the town. (So again the premise is also pretty basic. My character wakes up in a town where there’s no men, as if they all vanished at once. Including his father which leaves him home alone with his sister and mother. (It’s up to you if you want incest in the plot or not.) We can have a story with an element of mystery to it too if you want! Or we can just bounce around the town having him bonk as many different people as you want. )
Starter: It’s been a few weeks since all the men in the town vanished one day. One day they were there and the next they were gone. There was of course a panic even though it is much calmer than originally, it continues to creep in the back of everyone’s mind. It doesn’t help the fact that no outsiders have come into the town and some strange thick fog seems to stop everyone from leaving.
However, with no answers it was left to the women of the town to pick up the slack and try to push for some level of normalcy. Except for me it seemed. Since the whole act started, I was in lockdown not being free to leave my home since my mother and sister was much too paranoid that I’d disappear too. With the amount of time I spent indoors going stir crazy I began to wonder if it was better to be wherever the rest of them are.
Today was different though and finally I was given the chance to leave the house while my mother was careless and rather quickly, I headed out into the street just glad to take in the scenery as I headed over to a nearby park. I headed over the soft grass feeling it beneath my shoes and then to the pond where I took a seat on one of the mounted benches.
Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. (Not a whole lot to say here other than it’s one of your run of the mill Zombie/Nuclear apocalypse scenarios. I might toy with the idea of having multiple zombie types like games such as Dying light and Left for dead in order to spice things up a little but we’ll see where we go with it. As for nuclear I’ll probably be following along the Fallout franchise. Being part of these worlds will probably make my character a bit more brash, blunt and even a little rude. However, given some time he’ll warm up.)
Zombie Starter: No one knows quite when the outbreak started, however it swept over the globe causing panic. People eating people. People dying and coming back to life as a shambling corpse joining the armies of similar creatures. Society crumbled over time and the cities which were now hot zones for hordes of the undead creatures were left abandoned to all but the most daring or desperate of individuals. However, these rabid hordes weren’t the only thing to look out for in the apocalypse.
Society had begun to reform in its most primal form. People grouped together for safety. Those who just wanted to live peacefully became easy prey for those who saw the end of the world as we knew it as a playground to kill pillage and steal what they’d like. These bandits created their own factions with their own fortresses and seemed to have an endless supply of guns and ammo as they used it quite liberally.
I had been on the trail of a particularly nasty group of bandits as they razed whatever small settlements, they had to the ground callously and without mercy. I had just arrived at one of these towns. Dying people lay scattered about while fires licked at the makeshift buildings. It was still quite fresh. Approaching a nearby body which seemed to be moving slightly I turned it over the man was in bad shape and was clearly on death’s door. His eyes looking into mine in a pleading sense.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” I asked him reaching my left hand down to my machete which hung on my belt. Weakly his hand reached out to grip my right as he gave a nod. I knew the death wouldn’t be clean, as I unsheathed my blade. However, I couldn’t waste any ammo on my pistol nor could I risk tipping off the bandits that did this that I was following them. With a quick swing I slammed the blade into the head of the man ending his life and after wiping the blade off on his shirt I slid it back into its sheath my eyes scanning the immediate area for any of the undead which had turned or for a slim chance of getting a glimpse of survivors.
Nuclear Apocalypse Starter:
The world as we knew it ended in a flash. A white light followed by a rumble which washed over the world in nuclear fire. Billions died then and there reducing the world’s population to the brink. Those who were lucky to survive a direct blast were mutated to become much different than humans and more akin to zombies. Those outside of it didn’t have much quality of life as the radiation created mutated creatures which made living in a barren wasteland that much harder.
There were others however who were lucky enough to be given a spot in giant underground vaults. There they lived out their lives separated from the horrors that this new world wrought. One by one these vaults opened to allow these vault dwellers into the wasteland that was our world.
Their blue suits and clueless natures made them stand out and become easy prey to raiders, giant creatures and everything in between. Many of them didn’t get far before being gutted and robbed for their illusive vault suits which earned enough to feed a scavenger or bandit for a month.
The world and society began to rebuild. And with small settlements and towns popping up here and there it wasn’t all doom and gloom for the wasteland. Many were able to create jobs in local milita, mercenary work. Even trading or bartending.
I was such a mercenary a few generations of my family lived through the bombing and the radiation which was lucky enough for me, I guess. I was hired to do whatever someone wanted for the right price. And today I was tasked with delving into a recently opened vault and check make contact with the inhabitants inside.
Colt python on my waist I headed over to the large vault door which at this point was sealed shut and knocked loudly. This job seemed rather easy and was paying a lot which made me wonder who I was working for and what purpose they had with these vault dwellers. However, I wasn’t paid to ask questions nor did I really care at the end of the day. The less I knew the less guilt I could feel.
Idea 11: Space/Scifi. (So this is a scifi adventure. My character is the captain of his own ship and is currently looking for recruits to join him and help run it. There will probably be lots of interesting planets our characters go to and I’ll certainly be making them up as we go along! Your character can range as anything from a human to android or even an alien.)
Stepping out of the tempest I breathed in the humid station air of Astra station. The station which was on the furthest reaches of the space ruled over the galactic council; was a haven for the depraved. Outlaws, mercenaries, drug dealers you name it Astra has it and in bountiful supply too.
Which made it a perfect spot to find someone who was desperate to get off the station. Someone who would work for cheap or for free. All I needed to do was to find them. “Schwarzer, don’t forget to stock up on food, military rations are sad.” A voice commented through the earpiece I had. “Yeah. I’ll head through the slums and to the market. Thanks, Evai.” I responded. “And don’t cause any trouble, I don’t wanna rot in this ship while you’re dead.” The voice added on. “Yeah yeah I’ve got it.” I responded as the communication line was severed and I started on my walk.
I headed through a nearby door and down into the depths of the station. Soon I the overcrowded and frankly smelly slums. Beggars and gang members lined every corner all looking at me with a cautious eye as I passed. There were even a few tweaked out drug users laying scattered about in some dark corners. Even a few corpses.
I didn’t stop though, if you stayed in one place too long down here you were asking to be jumped and quickly, I pushed on heading over to the bustling markets. The food quality here wasn’t the best although it was abundant. I even talked to a few of the store owners to see if they knew where I could find the extra hands to help me on my ship.
Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). (So, this starter is gonna be fairly generic, however it’s open to allowing any of the familial ties to be easily included. I have a few ideas for immediate family and will post them below and if you have any ideas, I’m happy to hear them.)
Starter: It’s a hot and lazy day in the middle of summer break. I had laid splayed out on the couch at home. Despite the air conditioner being on full blast my skin underneath my tank top was getting stuck to the leather couch; which did little to alleviate the heat fluster that was going on. I sighed after looking over the back of the couch to the pool outback longingly. I sighed a little resigning myself to bite the bullet and peeled myself from the couch.
As much as I wanted to strip down and run out, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was home alone and as such, I headed up to my room to change into a pair of swimming trunks before heading back downstairs. Passing through the laundry and grabbing a towel on the way.
I headed onto the back deck and draped my towel over the railing before I rushed over and leapt into the pool immediately feeling the cool water wash away any of the heat I had been feeling. I resurface and breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed my messy hair back from my face.
Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Again like the incest scene above I’m not quite sure how to spruce this one up so I’ll leave it rather basic and we can go from there.)
Starter: My family has gone on holiday without me as I had to stay behind due to being caught up in exams. Rather than meeting up with them later they decided it would be more fun for me if I finished them up then headed over to spend some time with my Aunt and my cousin across the county. While I wouldn’t be leaving the country, I was still getting a vacation in a way and as such I tried my best to be upbeat and positive about it, even if I was envious of the others.
While it wasn’t the same pristine beaches and high-class resorts that the rest of my family was going to, I was still grateful for the hospitality. The plane lands in the airport and after collecting my bags and checking my phone for a confirmation I was going to be picked up I sent my family and my aunt and cousin a quick text telling them I landed safely. After gathering my small suitcase from the conveyor belt, I wheeled it through security and out to the meeting area keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my cousin or my auntie. There was a little confusion about who was going to greet me so I wasn’t sure who to expect myself.
Idea 14: Incest family vacation. (So, this one is again going to be like the other two before it. They kinda roll off each other in a way. However, I believe it allows for a wide range of engagements with multiple characters at some kind of beach resort.)
Starter: It’s the dead middle of another scorching summer and rather than tough it out in our homes which has air-conditioning which never seemed to help, our large family decided to all go to a large resort (Could even be a cruise too) together. Many of the rooms were rather luxurious and I was more than excited to see what the rest of the hotel had to offer.
We pulled up into the lobby and while the parents were checking in I headed over to check out a map on the wall. It seemed there were quite a lot of different things to do around the resort. There was a pool with a poolside bar, a beach which had volleyball games, a massage parlour, hot tubs and many different activities ranging from native dances to eating competitions.
Just the realization we were here and the excitement at the many possibilities that could come from the vacation. Maybe I’d even meet someone nice and have a vacation fling. Although with so many family members running around, I doubted that I’d get much peace to do that. Regardless I was eager to get up to the room, have a shower and change into my swimming trunks to explore all the different places.
We headed up to the rooms where I noticed mine had a large double bed. However, judging by my mother’s comments outside It seemed there was some kind of mix-up in the rooms and I’d be sharing the room with one of my family members. Not that I minded too much. I placed my suitcase down and waited to see who would come in and if they were interested in joining me look around.
Closing words: So yeah that’s about it! Thanks for reading and if you have any questions or suggestions, I’m open to hearing them! I know this was probably a big read so thanks again for your time and I hope to talk to some of you soon!
submitted by Joker_ERP to WrittenRoleplay [link] [comments]


2020.10.23 17:03 Joker_ERP [M4A] (A playing as F) Massive RP drop! (Rule 34, fandoms, OC, Incest Ect.)

Hey there! Today I’ve got a massive list of rp ideas and have written out some starters along with some ideas to how I see the rp going. I’m open to change and ready to do other ideas too. So if you feel like you’ve got an idea I might be interested in feel free to talk to me about those: ).
As for my replies. I write in first person mainly and my reply length varies. I generally do anything from a few sentences to a paragraph or more and generally require my partner to do the same. Fair warning the less detail you reply with the less interested I’ll be in rping with you. (Not looking for a few words as a response)
I enjoy having a story to go along with the smut so it’s not just constant sex, some cute or action driven moments are fun as well. – Hand holding and cute dates are pleasant! I mainly do my rps on kik, discord or here. I also have an RP facebook account, so feel free to ask for my users for those! : )
My kinks and limits list might be a big read, but none are compulsory. I’m just here to have fun and hopefully meet some cool rp partners : )
Kinks: Harems (Which might be obvious with my post), Incest, Outercourse (Which is stuff like titjobs, thigh jobs, grinding, hot dogging) Risky public spaces (Toilet stalls, changing booths. That kinda thing where people could get caught.) Facials, Freckles (Face and body). Big/nicely shaped bums (Especially if they jiggle). Creampies, Cum on tits/body, big cumshots, Thigh high socks. showewater sex (pools, shower, hot tubs ect.) Mutual desire for sex.
Limits: Pregnancy (Hard limit sorry), Vomit, Piss, Blood, Toilet stuff, Rape, Gangbangs (Unless it’s multiple females) Male on Male, futas, rimming/pegging.
There might be more that I’m forgetting so if you’re unsure feel free to ask me! The rougher side of sex like Name calling, slapping choking spanking I can all do as well! : ) Without further ado let’s jump into the starters!
Here's the basic list of ideas if you wanted to look them over before reading the full posts. I’m also open to some ideas that I may have missed!
Rule 34/Fandom ideas: Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia. Idea 2: Pokemon Idea 3: Naruto Idea 4: Bleach Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender Idea 6: Persona (Girls from 4 and 5) Idea 7: Harry Potter.
OC Ideas: Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. Idea 9: Only Man of the town. Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. Idea 11: Scifi space crew.
Incest Ideas: Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Idea 14: Incest family vacation.
Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia.
(So my character will be a transfer into Class 1-A. His power is the power of persuasion. With the power he’s able to convince someone to do something as if it’s their own will. However, he’s hesitant to use it on other people and to tell everyone he even has it as he’s been outcast at his last school for the villainous nature of his quirk. As such he can’t use it to its full extent and can only issue small commands to begin with.
My idea with this is that one or more (cannon or non) of the girls decide to help him out in a private setting and overtime it gets more and more sexual in nature. And as he becomes more confident, he’s able to issue more longer-term commands. This can also be mixed in well with some story and some action to keep the plot interesting.)
Starter: It was a day which started like most others in Class 1-A. The students got ready in the dorms and headed to class to chat among themselves while they waited for Aizawa to enter. However, unlike most days there seemed to be an extra desk placed in the room. The seat caused some confusion which didn’t last long as the first bell rang and Aizawa entered the room.
“Morning everyone.” He stated in his mainly bored and sleepy tone which seemed to sound like he was stifling a yawn. “Today we’ve got a new student transferring in from another school. He’s from Shiketsu, some of you may recognize the name since it’s got the same level as prestige as U.A. but regardless make sure he feels welcome.” He said pointing a sweeping stare at everyone and finally resting on the problem child of the U.A class Bakugo.
With that he fell silent and I felt it was my cue to enter. Swallowing a little at the nerves I steeled them quickly and entered. My blue eyes sweeping over some of the familiar faces in the room. Many of the students had standout performances in the UA sports festival and as well in the news reports about the villain attack on the training camp.
I had a lot to live up to if I wanted to join these legends in training but regardless, I was determined to do just that. Breathing a little and shifting my auburn hair from my eyes I smiled the best I could. “My name is Schwarzer, Chris Schwarzer. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” I say bowing to the class.
Satisfied with the introduction Aizawa nodded to the spare seat in the room. Taking that as an order I nodded back and headed over to my seat sitting down and getting my books out. Curiously I turned to the seat next to me noticing one of the girls in the class and gave her a slight smile as Aizawa began his lesson.
Idea 2: Pokemon: (So this one is super simple. Some trainers or a trainer and his Pokémon go on a grand adventure. For this one my favourite Canon female are: Marnie, May, Hilda and May. And my favourite Anthro Pokémon are Lopunny, Arcanine, Blaiziken That’s just for reference though and you can really play whoever you like!)
Trainer x Trainer Starter:
I like many others in the world of Pokémon have just started on my journey. Although I had done so a little late. Regardless me and my starter Pokémon Aipom which was a gift from my late father. Setting off with excitement to make a name of myself.
That excitement wore off pretty quickly however as an advanced trainer stepped in my path and soon, I realized how big the gap between us was. He wiped the floor with my aipom and laughed as he took my “Prize money” Scooping up my aipom I rushed through the rest of the route and over to the next town ducking quickly into the Pokémon centre.
Looking around there was a few new trainers who seemed to have fallen to the same fate as I had and I shook my head. Guys like that were total assholes and without hesitating I headed over to the counter where the nurse took my Aipom from me. Once he was gone, I was told there was going to be a short wait due to the amount of Pokémon they had to treat. I nodded as I headed over and sat down in one of the seats.
Trainer x Anthro Pokemon Starter. (So similar to the starter above, rather than having a trainer my character goes on adventures with it’s a Pokémon. Just being transparent that there’s NO circumstances that I’ll do feral, I’m looking for ANTHRO Pokémon only!)
A little way into my journey and I’ve heard reports of a rare Pokémon deep in the surrounding forest. Not wanting to miss the chance to catch it I braved the depths of the forest keeping an eye out for the Pokémon.
Soon I came across a large clearing with a rock. On top was the Pokémon in question no doubt about it. It was strangely human in appearance and without hesitating I sent out my Pokémon. An Aipom. “Alright buddy tackle!” I whispered. Aipom nodded as it charged out of the clearing and threw its body towards the Pokémon in question.
Idea 3: Naruto ( So for this one I like the idea that my character is a young nomadic mercenary hired by the leaf to help train the ninja of the village, maybe he also has some kind of hidden power that boosts his chakra but also increases his libido. Not too sure how I wanna go about this one. )
Starter: The Hokage Tsunade Senju looked over me with a curious gaze and then down to my application form. “You’re younger than I expected given everything you’ve done.” She stated honestly. “But the intelligence division did a thorough search into you and you check out.” She stated as she slammed the approved stamp down onto my paper.
“Just remember, if you do anything to endanger this village, I’ll snuff you out personally.” She said in an icy and threatening tone. Feeling a cold bead of sweat roll down the side of my face I nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” I say. Internally I make a mental note not to cross her in any way. “Good.” She said putting a smile across her features. “Your first group is down on the training field waiting for you already.” She stated. “Your lodgings will be set up by the time you’re done, here’s the key.” She said tossing the key to me which I caught and stuffed into my pocket. I was a little shocked with how quick she wanted me to get to work but I nodded. “Right!” I say giving a respectful bow before heading out.
It took me a little longer than expected to actually find the training grounds as I hadn’t ever been here before. And when I got there much to her credit there were a few ninja standing around. Approaching them I gave them a sheepish smile. “Sorry I’m late guys.” I called out. “I got lost.” I added on.
Idea 4: Bleach ( So a new human soul reaper makes it into the soul society. His power isn’t captain level to begin with simply being enough to take out the average hollow. And with the resurgence of the hollow threat the Soul Society has offered to give him a substitute badge to take out those hollows deemed too small for the soul society to handle. Maybe he’s paired up with someone or someone like Orihime steps in to help him grow. )
Starter: Another boring day at school followed by a night of boring patrols. With all the big hollows being taken care of by “Full-fledged” Soul reapers it didn’t leave me with much opportunity to train against bigger enemies.
At least that’s what I thought originally. A few blocks from me there was a rift which opened up and the pure spiritual pressure that came from the hollow that stepped out of it was enough to make me feel as though gravity itself was pushing against me.
It was hard to breathe and even harder to stand as my hand clutched my blade in my left hand tightly. I shook my head as I heard the loud roar of the large breast and could even see it’s towering form from my position.
It was nothing close to a menos, but it was enough to tower over a three-story building for sure. “Shit.” I hissed to myself as I knew there were no soul reapers around at this stage. With a threat this big I was sure they’d come, but until then it was up to me to buy some time and make sure no humans or souls were consumed.
Pushing myself forward I reached the park that the Hollow had appeared in. Thankfully the park was deserted at this time of night. When he saw me the hollow. “You don’t smell like much, but you’ll do as a snack.” The hollow commented as it charged forward. “Just evade, buy time.” I comment to myself as I began to leap around the battle field looking a bit like and feeling like an idiot.
The hollow toyed with me a little while enjoying the chase before it seemed to ger bored. Just when I was thinking I was fast enough to keep avoiding it the creature’s mouth opened and its forked tongue shot out at me with faster speed than I was anticipating I raised my blade to defend myself but it was a feeble attempt and I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender ( So for this one I guess it can go two different ways. My fave girls from Avatar would probably be Ty Lee, Suki and Toph. Maybe my character is a powerful bender that either the fire nation or team Avatar wants on their side. I think it might be cool to think that Aang isn’t the only airbender and instead a small faction managed to escape and continue the lineage. Either that or my character is a powerful firebender of some kind. I’ll leave whichever you prefer to you in your first reply as I’ll leave it open ended.)
Starter: The world was at war ever since the Fire nation attacked. With the intense fighting came mercenaries. Freelance benders or soldiers ready to fight on either side. For a fee of course. And despite my age, being only eighteen I was quite renown amongst the other bounty hunters for my bending.
Of course, there were talks of the Avatar returning, having repelled an invasion in the south pole, the liberation of Omashu and then the fire nation prison. It seemed they were making quite the stir in the earth kingdom.
It’d only be a matter of time before they reached the small town, I was in. Perhaps they were already here. But if that was the case surely there would be some kind of stir. Pushing my hair from my face I ordered another drink from the barkeep. “You know you’re my favourite customer Schwarzer…. You’re the only one who consistently pays his tab. Unlike the rest of these soldiers or the workers around here.” The older man says in clear annoyance.
“Well who knows, if I wasn’t so successful, I’d probably mooch off you too.” I admitted with a grin. “Try not to talk too ill of the soldiers on either side.” I added on flicking him an extra coin for a tip once my drink was finished. “Well I better check if anyone has a job for me.” I say as I pushed myself up from my seat.
Idea 6: Persona ( So basically this is just gonna be a fairly interesting idea. My character along with the girls of persona 4 and 5 get stranded in this strange dimension where they have to fight their way out to make it back to their own worlds. )
Starter: It all happened so fast. One minute I was in a team meeting with my group discussing what we should use our newfound powers for next. And the next second, I had blinked and I was in some kind of strange room.
One by one more people were added into this room. Some of which were dressed in some elaborate costumes. And I frowned as I looked to each one of them, all of which I didn’t recognize at all and judging by their looks they didn’t recognize me. Although before we managed to introduce ourselves a booming voice broke the silence.
“Welcome all!” The clearly male voice commented. “To the room of my design.” He added on. “I’m sure you’re all confused. And no doubt you’ll want to return back to your homes. However, to do so you’ll need to enter my labyrinth. “Make it to the end and you’ll all return home.” The voice explained.
“Of course, this maze isn’t without its dangers. Enemies, much like you encounter on a regular basis will roam these halls. As well as beasts of my own design far stronger than those… Fear no though for every check point you reach this room will become more furnished with amenities. For now, you simply have beds to rest on.” He said as there was an audible click and the dark room was suddenly lit up. Sure, enough there were rows of beds all lined up one for each person to sleep on.
“When you’re ready to test yourselves step through this door and enter the first level of the labyrinth.” He declared as a large door appeared and opened up in front of them. For a while nobody said anything probably all too stunned to even process the information. “So, I’m guessing we’re all persona users given what he just said.” I spoke up. “I guess we should probably start with names and strengths, right?” I questioned the group. “I’m Chris Schwarzer.” I say. “My persona Serapth focuses on ranged combat.” I explained.
Idea 7: Harry Potter ( So to keep this one interesting I’m thinking of having it set in an AU where Voldemort and Harry don’t exist. However, there are still dark wizards who are part of a cult around. Defs looking for a Hermionie, Luna or Ginny, you could even have other celebs/ecelebs as teachers or students for this one! )
Starter: Another year at Hogwarts, the last for some; and another year of learning was right around the corner. Although times were not peaceful in the wizarding world. Aurors who were the police of the magical world were going missing or showing up dead.
The ministry not wanting to make a panic kept it fairly under wraps, however some of the families have come forward with the information and rumours abounded about what was really happening. Stepping off the train I sighed a little rubbing my temple where a headache had begun to set in. During the train ride here, I found myself stuck next to a boy who wouldn’t stop going on about the rumours and conspiracy theories.
Glad to be off the train I looked around for a minute lost as to where I needed to go. “I know it’s around here somewhere.” I commented, although my sense of direction was always off. Usually I followed everyone else. But this time it seemed I was one of the last ones off the train.
Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. (This one is fairly basic in nature. Basically, a young man with little combat experience leaves his poor hunting village once he’s of age and sets off to join the adventurer’s guild to make a name for himself and also to send money back home. He’s fairly modest, naive and kind hearted. Which makes him likable and easy to take advantage of.
We could add a story with war elements, racism and darker themes to show him that the world he idolizes isn’t as cracked up as he thought it’d be. Ideally, I’d like a full harem party for this one but I’m cool with one on one too.)
Starter: It had been a few days since I was finally able to leave the small village, I was raised in behind me. Sword on hip and keen to become an adventurer. Of course, I also wanted to make a name for myself and I was even more excited to see everything the world had to offer. With driving me forward I headed from my village over to the closest city which had a guild branch. A city called Ruan. It was nearly five times the size of my village if not more and yet it was nothing close to the capital city of Grancel.
Smooth dirt paths soon gave way to cobblestone and my boots clacked rhythmically against the pavement as my steps soon got faster and faster as Ruan came into view. My stomach was in knots as I gripped the straps on my bag tightly and after steeling my nerves and taking in the sight of the large city, I headed through the large stone arch to the busy streets beyond.
My excited eyes looked around at every nook and cranny as I took in every detail that was on offer. Soon coming across the large marble and wood building of the adventurer’s guild in front of me. I stood in front of the large building clearly awestruck and for a moment I felt completely overwhelmed. This was it. This was the first step I was going to take on my journey and yet I felt far too nervous to head inside. Instead I stood there shaking slightly as I tried to work up the courage to push those large oak doors aside and declare my presence to the world.
Idea 9: Man of the town. (So again the premise is also pretty basic. My character wakes up in a town where there’s no men, as if they all vanished at once. Including his father which leaves him home alone with his sister and mother. (It’s up to you if you want incest in the plot or not.) We can have a story with an element of mystery to it too if you want! Or we can just bounce around the town having him bonk as many different people as you want. )
Starter: It’s been a few weeks since all the men in the town vanished one day. One day they were there and the next they were gone. There was of course a panic even though it is much calmer than originally, it continues to creep in the back of everyone’s mind. It doesn’t help the fact that no outsiders have come into the town and some strange thick fog seems to stop everyone from leaving.
However, with no answers it was left to the women of the town to pick up the slack and try to push for some level of normalcy. Except for me it seemed. Since the whole act started, I was in lockdown not being free to leave my home since my mother and sister was much too paranoid that I’d disappear too. With the amount of time I spent indoors going stir crazy I began to wonder if it was better to be wherever the rest of them are.
Today was different though and finally I was given the chance to leave the house while my mother was careless and rather quickly, I headed out into the street just glad to take in the scenery as I headed over to a nearby park. I headed over the soft grass feeling it beneath my shoes and then to the pond where I took a seat on one of the mounted benches.
Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. (Not a whole lot to say here other than it’s one of your run of the mill Zombie/Nuclear apocalypse scenarios. I might toy with the idea of having multiple zombie types like games such as Dying light and Left for dead in order to spice things up a little but we’ll see where we go with it. As for nuclear I’ll probably be following along the Fallout franchise. Being part of these worlds will probably make my character a bit more brash, blunt and even a little rude. However, given some time he’ll warm up.)
Zombie Starter: No one knows quite when the outbreak started, however it swept over the globe causing panic. People eating people. People dying and coming back to life as a shambling corpse joining the armies of similar creatures. Society crumbled over time and the cities which were now hot zones for hordes of the undead creatures were left abandoned to all but the most daring or desperate of individuals. However, these rabid hordes weren’t the only thing to look out for in the apocalypse.
Society had begun to reform in its most primal form. People grouped together for safety. Those who just wanted to live peacefully became easy prey for those who saw the end of the world as we knew it as a playground to kill pillage and steal what they’d like. These bandits created their own factions with their own fortresses and seemed to have an endless supply of guns and ammo as they used it quite liberally.
I had been on the trail of a particularly nasty group of bandits as they razed whatever small settlements, they had to the ground callously and without mercy. I had just arrived at one of these towns. Dying people lay scattered about while fires licked at the makeshift buildings. It was still quite fresh. Approaching a nearby body which seemed to be moving slightly I turned it over the man was in bad shape and was clearly on death’s door. His eyes looking into mine in a pleading sense.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” I asked him reaching my left hand down to my machete which hung on my belt. Weakly his hand reached out to grip my right as he gave a nod. I knew the death wouldn’t be clean, as I unsheathed my blade. However, I couldn’t waste any ammo on my pistol nor could I risk tipping off the bandits that did this that I was following them. With a quick swing I slammed the blade into the head of the man ending his life and after wiping the blade off on his shirt I slid it back into its sheath my eyes scanning the immediate area for any of the undead which had turned or for a slim chance of getting a glimpse of survivors.
Nuclear Apocalypse Starter:
The world as we knew it ended in a flash. A white light followed by a rumble which washed over the world in nuclear fire. Billions died then and there reducing the world’s population to the brink. Those who were lucky to survive a direct blast were mutated to become much different than humans and more akin to zombies. Those outside of it didn’t have much quality of life as the radiation created mutated creatures which made living in a barren wasteland that much harder.
There were others however who were lucky enough to be given a spot in giant underground vaults. There they lived out their lives separated from the horrors that this new world wrought. One by one these vaults opened to allow these vault dwellers into the wasteland that was our world.
Their blue suits and clueless natures made them stand out and become easy prey to raiders, giant creatures and everything in between. Many of them didn’t get far before being gutted and robbed for their illusive vault suits which earned enough to feed a scavenger or bandit for a month.
The world and society began to rebuild. And with small settlements and towns popping up here and there it wasn’t all doom and gloom for the wasteland. Many were able to create jobs in local milita, mercenary work. Even trading or bartending.
I was such a mercenary a few generations of my family lived through the bombing and the radiation which was lucky enough for me, I guess. I was hired to do whatever someone wanted for the right price. And today I was tasked with delving into a recently opened vault and check make contact with the inhabitants inside.
Colt python on my waist I headed over to the large vault door which at this point was sealed shut and knocked loudly. This job seemed rather easy and was paying a lot which made me wonder who I was working for and what purpose they had with these vault dwellers. However, I wasn’t paid to ask questions nor did I really care at the end of the day. The less I knew the less guilt I could feel.
Idea 11: Space/Scifi. (So this is a scifi adventure. My character is the captain of his own ship and is currently looking for recruits to join him and help run it. There will probably be lots of interesting planets our characters go to and I’ll certainly be making them up as we go along! Your character can range as anything from a human to android or even an alien.)
Stepping out of the tempest I breathed in the humid station air of Astra station. The station which was on the furthest reaches of the space ruled over the galactic council; was a haven for the depraved. Outlaws, mercenaries, drug dealers you name it Astra has it and in bountiful supply too.
Which made it a perfect spot to find someone who was desperate to get off the station. Someone who would work for cheap or for free. All I needed to do was to find them. “Schwarzer, don’t forget to stock up on food, military rations are sad.” A voice commented through the earpiece I had. “Yeah. I’ll head through the slums and to the market. Thanks, Evai.” I responded. “And don’t cause any trouble, I don’t wanna rot in this ship while you’re dead.” The voice added on. “Yeah yeah I’ve got it.” I responded as the communication line was severed and I started on my walk.
I headed through a nearby door and down into the depths of the station. Soon I the overcrowded and frankly smelly slums. Beggars and gang members lined every corner all looking at me with a cautious eye as I passed. There were even a few tweaked out drug users laying scattered about in some dark corners. Even a few corpses.
I didn’t stop though, if you stayed in one place too long down here you were asking to be jumped and quickly, I pushed on heading over to the bustling markets. The food quality here wasn’t the best although it was abundant. I even talked to a few of the store owners to see if they knew where I could find the extra hands to help me on my ship.
Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). (So, this starter is gonna be fairly generic, however it’s open to allowing any of the familial ties to be easily included. I have a few ideas for immediate family and will post them below and if you have any ideas, I’m happy to hear them.)
Starter: It’s a hot and lazy day in the middle of summer break. I had laid splayed out on the couch at home. Despite the air conditioner being on full blast my skin underneath my tank top was getting stuck to the leather couch; which did little to alleviate the heat fluster that was going on. I sighed after looking over the back of the couch to the pool outback longingly. I sighed a little resigning myself to bite the bullet and peeled myself from the couch.
As much as I wanted to strip down and run out, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was home alone and as such, I headed up to my room to change into a pair of swimming trunks before heading back downstairs. Passing through the laundry and grabbing a towel on the way.
I headed onto the back deck and draped my towel over the railing before I rushed over and leapt into the pool immediately feeling the cool water wash away any of the heat I had been feeling. I resurface and breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed my messy hair back from my face.
Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Again like the incest scene above I’m not quite sure how to spruce this one up so I’ll leave it rather basic and we can go from there.)
Starter: My family has gone on holiday without me as I had to stay behind due to being caught up in exams. Rather than meeting up with them later they decided it would be more fun for me if I finished them up then headed over to spend some time with my Aunt and my cousin across the county. While I wouldn’t be leaving the country, I was still getting a vacation in a way and as such I tried my best to be upbeat and positive about it, even if I was envious of the others.
While it wasn’t the same pristine beaches and high-class resorts that the rest of my family was going to, I was still grateful for the hospitality. The plane lands in the airport and after collecting my bags and checking my phone for a confirmation I was going to be picked up I sent my family and my aunt and cousin a quick text telling them I landed safely. After gathering my small suitcase from the conveyor belt, I wheeled it through security and out to the meeting area keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my cousin or my auntie. There was a little confusion about who was going to greet me so I wasn’t sure who to expect myself.
Idea 14: Incest family vacation. (So, this one is again going to be like the other two before it. They kinda roll off each other in a way. However, I believe it allows for a wide range of engagements with multiple characters at some kind of beach resort.)
Starter: It’s the dead middle of another scorching summer and rather than tough it out in our homes which has air-conditioning which never seemed to help, our large family decided to all go to a large resort (Could even be a cruise too) together. Many of the rooms were rather luxurious and I was more than excited to see what the rest of the hotel had to offer.
We pulled up into the lobby and while the parents were checking in I headed over to check out a map on the wall. It seemed there were quite a lot of different things to do around the resort. There was a pool with a poolside bar, a beach which had volleyball games, a massage parlour, hot tubs and many different activities ranging from native dances to eating competitions.
Just the realization we were here and the excitement at the many possibilities that could come from the vacation. Maybe I’d even meet someone nice and have a vacation fling. Although with so many family members running around, I doubted that I’d get much peace to do that. Regardless I was eager to get up to the room, have a shower and change into my swimming trunks to explore all the different places.
We headed up to the rooms where I noticed mine had a large double bed. However, judging by my mother’s comments outside It seemed there was some kind of mix-up in the rooms and I’d be sharing the room with one of my family members. Not that I minded too much. I placed my suitcase down and waited to see who would come in and if they were interested in joining me look around.
Closing words: So yeah that’s about it! Thanks for reading and if you have any questions or suggestions, I’m open to hearing them! I know this was probably a big read so thanks again for your time and I hope to talk to some of you soon!
submitted by Joker_ERP to Dirtypenpalsuk [link] [comments]


2020.10.23 10:19 HighAsfck24-7 My ex GF (F20) convinced herself that my (M19) new GF (F34) is abusing me and taking advantage of me. She started stalking me and my GF is getting mad about it

In high school I dated my ex and we didn't last because she just wanted to date around and sleep around. We dated for a short time, but I loved her for years before that. When I was 18 and a freshman in college, I met my girlfriend. She and I have similar interests and some of the same hobbies and we get along well.
We do a lot together and I love her because I am truly happy with her and because she is so good to me. My mom was actually not upset with my girlfriend's age because I had already told her I was more into older women than girls my age and I also let her neet my GF and get along with her on their own.
My mom is also very overprotective and can even get super pissed if someone does something to someone in our family-she takes things tio seriously. Well my ex knows about my relationship because she talks with my mom a lot when I'm not there and I talk to her sometimes. My GF is completely aware of the situation too. Well, my my ex begged me to get back with her and she went as far as stalking me and even found out where my GF and I live.
She told my mom a bunch of lies and told her that my GF physically and emotionally abuses me, and she also made up lies and told my mom that my GF met me when I was still in high school and a minor. I told my mom the truth and my ex has caused a lot of problems. Hpw do I get my ex to leave me alone? I've blocked her on everything and she still somehow finds a way to try and talk to me. She's made over 20 fake accounts and more than 2 numbers to talk.
She also leaves notes and letters in the mail and things are too much. I have reported her to the police and the process is taking kind of long and I can tell my GF is pissed and she wants to take things into her own hands (she bought a gun recently while she isn't really a gun person). I don't want there to be a serious problem and don't know what else to do. I don't want this to hurt my relationship with my wonderful GF. What do I do about my ex?
TLDR Ex GF is stalking me and even coming to my house and leaving letters. I already tried the police and it is taking long. My GF went out and bought a gun for protection a d I am starting to get super worried
submitted by HighAsfck24-7 to relationships [link] [comments]


2020.10.23 05:57 LusipherStarLine778 rick bush

So there plan I would find out was LSD mind control they where going to be so powerful ray gun and lite beam or what ever well we where messing around I had named that stuff so like my technology so not for children
Drug led high so high that it was like wow can you stand up
No man your high ha ha your on drugs like so you say things and there what
Well man you made us
Um wow no I made endoskeletons all of them so not just you
No man you just made us that’s crazy we don’t believe that so well
Rick bush was crazy so jus threaten or pay more people to say things
No man you’re the problem your mean and cruel you hurt people
No you got shot you know he would shot you
I forget really
So they where trying to entrap me and they would do the switch and I would be him saying stood words
Like wow huh ok I’m going to go now
So they where going to go after the courts and take over so they would have power so like just threaten A whole galaxy only
No man you don’t know how powerful we are we have Azazel oh really then who is that
So I was going to swoon and be eating from rick bush hand
Oh really I would rather chop my head of
No man we can control you man ok so just again tell everyone what your planning to do no man no there on our side they just are too scared to say it
So world take over I’m not foamier with this way I said
Man your crazy your all crazy your no fun
Really I was fun I just never had fun my fun was building being with my life forms so
Not being around A bunch of mean horrible abusive cruel disrespecting men that say studios shit and just think they can say things then will tak3e over and just force and kill oh you have A name even thug him not with you and everyone knows that
No man no man I’m you your me your fake you know that
So all these memories
No man not your crazy an you make up stuff
So sacred memory like my name
So sorry my name whether you insist I’m Brian Nathaniel Alexander Briley
Or White imperial emperor Lord Lite Lusphur StarLine
So well nope don’t want you to admit anything I’m fine I know why, and it is very unfortunate that you have chosen this path
So no man I’m the child you would say
So every memory is checked backed up and saved and
And no this isn’t A good thing no I’m never going to what ever your just going to keep trying to kill me and well there are 4 to 80 and mostly going with man you’re the real lucifer your chosen people chose you bla
Ble
So well no they don’t didn’t oh what do I know man I’m A child
So it was special I mean other people where with me
No man they will be on our side we take over so again tell everyone oh they wont know nothing can stop us we have Azazel oh wow
So your planning to take me hostage and hold me and say I want this and they then blame me or kill me or just locked me up after you tell people I wasn’t things done I laid it right out
So wow computer type is powerful change memory and bla bla Brian
It was classic when big powerful AZAZEL rick bush tri3ed to scare me I tore him Apart I could sense his fear
So they had some goal in mind it worried A lot of people oh rick bush would just kill any in hos path once he had taken my mane and people believed it then he would be Azazel
Well is some kind of logic
So general rick bush thought he took my place I would crack underdoer torcher so well he idea was I was fake so once I admitted it then it would be fine to kill me as just me and him
He was more well known I didn’t know that though people would swing to his side easy in the bag
While I was being held we was making deals so just kill me and be done with it except well he didn’t have any thing expected other people to pay for stuff even the people he was making deal with Azazel
Classic Azazel the father of what ever creation wow treason right up to the top in just A few days no he had been laying the ground work A long time really I KNEW ABOUT HIM SAYIG DON’T TELL MY SON It would be M JUST Checking things out and filling his pockets with stuff gold watches one of A kind rings
Oh how could I miss any thing
Going to the pone shop and selling stuff giving it to girls that know me
I mean rick bush he didn’t know me maybe I was A fake though he knew everyone
Well lucifer rick bush he said father don’t tell my son it dad worked at other places so no problem here
He didn’t know I didn’t have A father even thought come on who you hiding who is his father
Ya ya everybody A liar or never honest
So I would crack under presser and admit I was fake except well I’m not and didn’t crack
Well well well just say he did ya you did everyone cracks under presser
So I’m never alone alone latter rick bush well just know and say stuff he says so he would say he’s never alone see that guy over there reding the new he’s one of mine rick bush would say
And really I could almost tell you everything about that other guy and why he was there oh yes we found out and with out even asking
Well for anyone to know they have to ask so anyone asked and you till old what ever about it he would take care of it oooooooohhhhhhh
Wow tough guy what are you going do talk his ear off till he runs away and then say don’t hurt me I’m some body
I’m not gainsay say who its some body real hush hush oooooooohhhhhhhhhh wow corny and stupid
Oh no he is the most smart ever every one could learn so much for um jimmy rick bush lucifer starling or Joseph bishop
So get me to admit I’m fake with out hurting me because every one really dose know who I am oh rick bush played that line up for every thing well no who are you
Well well you knows the guy that guy ????? Blink BLINK
Like him and women like connected because he was so smart and women live A smart tough guy
So ye yup we got everything on rick bush to the point where he would have to take over just to get out of it he had no chose
So he was after me for A long time so concerned about me I men’s I didn’t have any one I was all alone grin meaning fresh meet
A girl say who said he was all alone
So rick Bush thought every system is rigged that’s the way he would do it and he was smarter then everyone else lucifer rig guess he used other name and it was a secret name so don’t tell Amy one about this
Oh of cures slimy makes your skin craw man with A loaded 38 witch he mostly used for dating those dames dime he would toss A quarter so A girl and say keep the change you know he was so nice wise guy and wow 15 more cents like go to the moves or buy food maybe A dinner alone
You so generous
’so well rick bush was going to turn out to be well ???? self made man well I guess
Use another person name and self made just like some one I hated being the most what ever like yup I’m moving to another galaxy so rick Bush was going to miss his chance \
So anyway he was going to be this guy or some guy for years he would say don’t you know who I am as if that worked really it was bad oh poor crazy corny rick bush couldn’t catch a BRACK
SO HE PAID FOR THINGS you know he was so famous to got it all down his child hood what made him so smart and and his first love witch didn’t exist
A contender for most pathetic
Rick bush didn’t know once he said my name oh fun laughing his existence would change all right forbid name he would say he didn’t know though he did know like oh I didn’t know
Like oh this is your girl or car though nope sorry you say it and you say it is you or implied and that’s it you just did what is forbidden I was A joke trying to impress A girl something oh of course except all of town and making deals
You know all that yup so
He thought I was A cop he had to take me out
I was just telling him of what was coming oh well he though I was fine and let him use it his word vs mine one great to another
Oh so inventive
The best one was using mind control to force people to laugh with the kind so what he thinks is funny they have to laugh oh that never happened huh huh
Are you sure Brian I control everything thing I’m Azazel oh really so shot your self and come back like me oh you would but your life form would be heart broken
Rick bush did not know in 80 trillion years I had never taken pleasure from hurting A life form ever
So forcing people to say who is this guy or paying them or saying we pull this off and its all his or ours laugh he would slip A lot with people around him
So the only reason why everything is so nice is A won rick bush would say he was computer noggin they help him
So well rick bush has not died if he dose die well it wont changed he is trying to get people to help him live longer really I would have no mercy killing him
So it changes when you know every detail and you know they just didn’t care like rick bush like other people they don’t know or it is small with rick bush well he is really that fake and has hurt that many people and this isn’t A game I’m not getting anything I don’t already have rick bush thinks use A line first and you said it first
submitted by LusipherStarLine778 to u/LusipherStarLine778 [link] [comments]


2020.10.22 20:08 montanaandnevada I (25F) am relieved but also possibly sad my boyfriend (24 M) broke up with me

I am 25 F who dated 24 M (he’s actually turning 25 this Saturday so now I have to return his birthday presents).
I am mostly relieved, but I think I am still a tinge sad, but god do I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders! I feel weird because I am not crying even though I tried and no tears will come out. My parents have commented how happy and light I look today. They said I had looked so miserable lately, but today I am smiling without realizing I am smiling so wide. I feel weird because I don’t feel that sad… but I still certainly feel a loss.
While I was dating him, I felt anxious and apprehensive for almost 90% of the relationship. Especially recently, I felt so anxious I couldn’t breathe and I felt like I was going to die. I could feel the cortisol running through my veins. I normally exercise every day but as the relationship progressed, I felt depressed and could no longer get myself to do anything I had interest in.
I had so much anxiety that I pressed the ‘up’ button on the elevator instead of the ‘down’ button and kept mixing up my words and just being super forgetful and couldn’t concentrate on work.
Since the beginning, I knew in my head that we were incompatible but I kept ignoring it because I know there’s no such thing as perfect and I brought it up to him since the beginning that it concerns me how different we are…but he convinced me that as long as communicate then we can work it out.
So we had been talking things out, but finally yesterday he said he won’t put in any more effort into the relationship and he broke up with me.
He told me to go find my perfect boyfriend. I had brought up that I feel anxious in the relationship and it feels like I like him way more than he likes me, and that right now I don’t feel like I’m that special to him.
I was then pathetic and called him 10 times and pleaded him to stay because I’m in love with him, to which he immediately declined except he finally picked up to yell at me that we’re done, he doesn’t love me and never loved me, he doesn’t want me to come to his apartment, and he doesn’t want to see me again. Even though that was pathetic of me, I am glad I gave it my all instead of regretting what if I never told him how much I want to make it work.
A part of me still has hope though that he’ll reach out again. I need to destroy this feeling of hope because honestly, I don’t think he’s going to ever reach out to me again. I know he’s not going to. I know he won’t. And if he does reach out, it’ll be too late and it’ll be way down the road when I’ve really moved on and don’t want to talk to him ever again. I need to kill this hope because I rationally do NOT want to get back together with him (our relationship was not that great) but for some weird reason, a part of me still wants him to reach out and tell me he misses me and he cares for me.
But I really know it’s over because I saw this morning, he’s already friends with his ex girlfriend again. He deleted the 1 picture of us on Facebook. He removed me from every social media. He never deleted any pictures with his other ex’s. He knows it’s a dealbreaker for me that I can’t date someone who is friends with an ex which is why he initially removed her. But now he’s immediately added her back after our break-up.
Has anyone else experienced such a mixed bag of emotions after a break-up?
I feel relieved but also sad…mostly I feel shitty because I feel like I wasn’t even asking for much:
-He never asked me any questions about my life except “what’s for lunch” and “how’s your day.” I wanted to know everything about him- what he was like as a child, what are his life goals, what are his biggest fears. Whenever I asked him a ‘deeper’ question, he never asked it back. It never went beyond “what’s for lunch” and “how’s your day.”
-I had to practically beg him to compliment me and even then, he only said I’m cute but almost never said I’m beautiful or pretty. He made it a point to say that I should know there’s more beautiful and attractive women than me. He had a visceral reaction when he saw a pretty woman in Casablanca and said “DAMN she’s beautiful” but he never had that kind of reaction with me.
-I had to keep asking him for a date night (we only went on 1 date in 1.5 months since we became official).
-He would only call me IF I asked him to call or if we were fighting.
I felt like I was dragging him in the relationship and I had brought up my anxieties & concerns to him and instead of saying he’ll try to make me feel reassured, he said- “I’m the best and closest you can get to your ideal boyfriend. You can’t do better than me.” (is this a neg?)
More cons:
Possibly racist - There is a giant Black Lives Matter mural on the ground in Hartford and he shook his head and he said he doesn’t agree with BLM. He expressed disdain that more black people were moving into his apartment building. When he saw a group of dark-skinned people hanging out in the parking lot, he stopped and peered over and said “oh good it’s just the Indians. I thought it was black people. Indians are okay and don’t cause any trouble but those kind of people do.” Whenever a black person would walk toward us on the sidewalk, he made sure we crossed the street to walk on the other side. I am Asian and when I told him my parents are happy for me, he texted me something like “I’m sure they’re GRAD” to which I gave him the benefit of the doubt because he’s bad at spelling but I now realize the L and R are very far apart on the keyboard. Was that a micro aggression? Was he making fun of the way my immigrant parents may speak? (He hasn’t met them but he knows English isn’t their first language). Actually now that I type this all out…I think he may actually be racist. Do you think he's racist? He calls himself a gun-loving libertarian and that he's a "California Republican" (not sure if that matters but he's from California).
Unclean and unkempt - Once we started dating officially, I had to ask him to shower and brush his teeth because he wouldn’t do that before he saw me. He smelled really bad… Even though I brought it up many times, he rarely did. He also never washed his dishes or cleaned his apartment and rarely took out the trash. I never nagged him on how dirty his apartment was but god damn, I am glad I didn’t marry him because I am positive I would have ended up having to do all or majority of the housework.
Unhealthy - This is very minor but he never ate any vegetables, never drank water, and only ate a chicken sandwich, hot dogs in sandwich bread or Domino’s pizza for all his meals. He only drank Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew throughout the day and night. He literally refused to drink water.
Conclusion: He was great in the beginning but even during our dating phase, he never asked me any questions. As soon as we became official, he significantly gradually dropped effort. He made enough effort to make me stay. I am actually concerned for myself that I am straight up delusional because was he REALLY that great in the beginning or was it all in my mind? And now that I’ve typed all this out…I think I was blinded because I didn't leave my house for 5 months and he was one of the first people I went on a date with and had social interaction with since the pandemic started, and I didn't listen to my gut and body telling me he wasn't the one for me. So maybe that's why I feel so relieved because I knew and know he's not the right one for me... But why am I still feeling a bit empty then?
submitted by montanaandnevada to dating [link] [comments]


2020.10.21 05:38 lordsalmon55 I miss the old edp, straight from the go edp

Seriously man. It’s so sad to see where he’s gone. I think it all started going downhill when he broke up with that girl he was dating. Honestly, about a few years ago, he was just some goofy ass dude who liked football, video games and jerking off (still and always will be a porn addict). Sure the shit he said towards women wasn’t great and I’ve always thought it was out of line, but he wasn’t really an incel; he was just one of those people with a bitches aint shit mentality. He was losing weight at one point, pretty successfully. I am genuinely shocked when i look back at his videos from about 3 years ago. Now he’s irredeemable. I keep watching because to me this is the jew chris chan (don’t know if anyone in this sub knows about him https://sonichu.com/cwcki). I just wish he’d go back to being that goofy loser we all knew and loved, but he’s gone for good. Let’s just hope this doesnt end in someones death (saying due to his worsening mental state and obsession with guns and gore).
submitted by lordsalmon55 to EDP445 [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 07:36 SinCityInADress Realizing I don’t like my boyfriend as a person

He’s an intense trump supporter even tho he hasn’t stated I like trump it’s obvious we were sitting eating dinner one night and then some how we got on the conversation of presidents and he brought up how Trump isn’t star struck by celebrities and Obama was and I didn’t understand why he pointed that out but listening to all the Biden jokes he makes it pretty obvious who he’s voting for I personally am not a fan of trump but hey to each their own
My boyfriend also thinks covid is a scheme to gain control of Americans and if you got the democrats an inch they’ll take a mile and it’s a hoax
He’s a very proud liberal trump supporting gun owner with a black girlfriend and has only dated black girls so I’m kinda eh on that now like ?? Idk doesn’t seem right
We were driving getting dinner the other night we were in a busy parking lot and a lady pulled out in front of him after we had been sitting for a few minutes he says 30 but he’s a drama Queen he honked his horn and followed her super close until she turned to get on the high way flicked her off and called her a bitch and his reasoning was she shouldn’t she cut me off and my response was wow and shock and I explained to him how dangerous that was like People get shot and stuff for stuff doing like that and he’s like well you don’t drive so you don’t understand and I explained to him like yeah I don’t drive yet but that was unnecessary those few minutes sitting in a parking lot and being cut off making you act like that is crazy
He says he buys guns because the government will try to take them some day and I told him how fucking crazy that is but he said tons of Ppl think like him
I don’t think his family is supportive that he only dates black women
He has a very know it all attitude like you say anything and he’s spewing facts when you didn’t ask or You say a fact and he’s like telling you more Facts
Idk I just realized or I’ve known and I’m finally Over all of it idk
submitted by SinCityInADress to Vent [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 04:09 WhiskyTequilaFinance Confessions of a former anti-gun voter:

If you grew up with firearms, don’t understand why people oppose the 2nd Amendment, why they vote for poorly written gun control laws, why the liberal are anti-gun, or who don't understand how to reach your wife/GF/friends on why 2A rights are so important – this post is for you. This is how someone who wasn’t raised around guns grew up to firmly believe in strict gun control, and how she came to change her mind.
Tl;dr - Arguing gun control with someone that didn't grow up with them only works if you meet them where they are instead of being mad they aren't where you want them to be. If all you want is ideas on how to argue, skip to the numbered part at the bottom.
I grew up in a town where cows outnumbered people, and we mostly grew corn – there weren’t many cows. People didn’t lock doors, “crime” was the football team toilet-papering the coaches’ house. Guns were owned by the police, military, and hunters. The idea of having a gun to protect our home from bad guys would have made as much sense as having a cactus for elephant protection. Bad things happen in Hollywood movies, not in real life.
That was my reality until high school. The sport of marksmanship, the idea of shooting as a hobby, range day with friends - no more existed than competitive video gaming, fire-spinning or underwater basket weaving. Watch that point carefully – it’s not a judgement that people “shouldn’t” do those things, it is complete white-space to the idea they exist. Dating myself a bit, my sophomore year of high school was marked by the Columbine shootings. Now my list of firearms owners expanded to police, military, hunters and mass murderers. Bad things didn’t happen to good people, until every news station carried a 24/7 loop of bloody smeared handprints under a broken window left as children that looked like me fled a school just like mine.
Subsequent shootings only served to cement that fear, and did nothing to add any factual information into my viewpoints. At that point, I could have identified a revolver as the ‘gun from the old western movies’, a pistol as ‘a cop’s gun’ and from there everything was either ‘a weapon you hunted with’ or ‘assault weapon for the military’ – and “assault weapon” was equivalent to saying “fully automatic weapon”.
My 20s brought me to Chicago, my list expanded to police, military, hunters, mass murderers, gang members and people afraid of gang members. My view expanded, and I understood ownership for home defense now. Still incomplete though – the sport doesn’t exist, “automatic weapons” wouldn’t be practical for home defense. I did not willfully dismiss evidence contrary to my belief, I had no evidence at all. My 20s also taught me how brutally effective firearms were for suicide. Multiple funerals didn’t change my view on general firearm ownership, but it certainly cemented a solid fear of them.
My friend circle expanded, now I knew police officers and military and knew they owned firearms – though I’d never seen them. I respected that completely, but still believed it was a skill you were taught professionally, and the NRA was who taught you to hunt. Normal people didn’t just learn to go shoot a gun, where would you learn anyway? Looking back, I did know several people who owned collections but it was never spoken of in front of me, so no positive role model to ask for information.
Time marched on and more violence, active-shooter training in my offices, gang wars, the Bundy militia standoff, the rise of the alt-right movement, armed police on hand during layoffs, domestic terrorist attacks, Nazi marches in the streets and a steady diet of media that reinforced the belief that any weapon you couldn’t hunt with was “an assault rifle” which still equated to “automatic weapon”. Was I wrong? Yes, I was. But understand – every belief I held that was anti-gun was held in the firm belief that my vote was taking weapons away from terrorists and actively protected my family. I never saw responsible gun owners as acceptable collateral damage, I genuinely believed that I was voting for laws that protected their rights, while taking weapons away from criminals.
How do you argue with someone like me? Someone who genuinely believes their actions will protect their family? Who literally doesn’t have enough factual information in their view to understand the flaws? That has guns as either “professional tools” or “things to be afraid of” and no other category? To be fair, much of this is more specific to women, but there’s a lot of us out there and women protecting their kids are known to do things like lift cars off them. Drive us to vote – or teach us to shoot – we’ll defend with equal viciousness either way.
What doesn’t work:
  • Getting angry/defensive/raising your voice – The instant you’re angry, you’re dangerous to me. The minute I decide you’re dangerous is the minute I stop hearing anything you say. I will tell absolutely any lie necessary to placate you so that I can safely extract myself from the conversation. If I know you well I might give you a second chance, if you’re a stranger then it’s over. Is it fair? Probably not, but it’s kept me alive more than once, so I’m running with it.
  • Countering my opinion with insider terminology – Nobody likes feeling stupid, or admitting they don’t understand something. Arguing for the flaws in a particular weapons ban based on ballistics, or fire rates, or incorrect terminology or everybody knows that is more dangerous anyway might be factually accurate, but if I don’t understand the point you’re making then it’s lost. Building from the comments - it is not wrong to correct objectively inaccurate information, it's a fairly solid tactic to start with verifiable facts instead of hot-button topics. But if I tell my Sales VP his commission check is wrong because 'the accrual got posted on local format instead of ISO 8601, it'll flip next month', my answer is useless to him. Whereas 'the sale got input for 08/07/2020 instead of 07/08/2020, so you'll see it in next months' check' is identical and useful.
  • Attributing malice – My opinions were held from lack of information, or misinformation – never malice. I never saw the rights of a responsible gun owner as acceptable sacrifices, or that my ability to protect my family should come at the cost of you protecting yours. If you believe I’m malicious, then the conversation changes to placating you rather than educating me. Calling me a libtard and dismissing me as stupid might be satisfying, but accomplishes nothing useful.
What works:
  • Ask questions, and counter with approachable answers – The person who asked why I opposed assault weapon ownership got to teach me a little about weapon calibers and the idea that people buy parts to build their own firearms, so something could look capable of stopping a tank and be a caliber that could barely stop a deer. He didn’t fully change my mind, but he gave me enough to start recognizing the flaws in what I read.
  • Relate it to something they understand – The person who stopped me dead in my tracks asked me how I felt about back-door abortion restrictions like closing all but one clinic in a county, or scare tactics like “partial birth” garbage, or the idiot legislator that tried to argue embryonic pregnancies can be re-implanted successfully. He made the point that people who knew nothing about the subject, weren’t affected by the laws and understood none of the science shouldn’t be writing bills about it because it wouldn’t fix the problem anyway. He didn’t tell me my opinions were wrong, he taught me to look at the motivation and ethics of the people writing the laws. He taught me the questions instead of giving me the answers.
  • Be an approachable for information – Had any one of my friends said ‘I love target shooting, and I see some serious flaws in how the law they’re trying to pass will actually work and how it will affect me, happy to answer questions from anyone that wants to know more’ – I’d have asked in a heartbeat. I’d have listened to a trusted source, but I never knew I had one to ask. I don’t mean put a flashing sign on the front lawn, or risk your own safety – but don’t let the Proud Boys speak for you either.
  • Focus on safety, not on putting a gun in their hands – The person who finally broke my fear and ultimately taught me the fun of range day didn’t do it by dragging me there. He simply said that there were several loaded weapons in his home and asked if I’d like to learn to safely handle them if I came across one. Of course I wanted to learn safety. That led eventually to a range trip where he loaded a single .22 round and said if I hated it then we’d go home, and he’d be proud of me for trying it.
That last point was January 2020. 10 months later, I just wrote y’all War and Peace, range day is date night, and I’ve gone on to convince several other people to conquer their fear and take lessons too. I know exactly why those bans won’t make me and mine safer, and I’ve got a whole new set of skills that just might God forbid that day ever comes.
If you've managed to read this far, hopefully something in this was useful. I'd love to hear ideas from other converts too. What changed your mind on gun ownership? Current politics sure, but what else?
submitted by WhiskyTequilaFinance to liberalgunowners [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 23:47 _Revelator_ Clarkson's Columns: Down with Cruise Ships & the Aston Martin Aston Martin DBX Review

Sir Attenborough and St. Mark's can breathe a sigh: loathsome cruise liners are sinking at last
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Oct. 18)
A public information ad that nobody much paid attention to when it first appeared last year started doing the rounds last week. It suggested that girls who can no longer be ballet dancers should think about retraining for a career in cyber-technology. This made a lot of young people very angry, and I'm not sure why.
Covid-19 forced theatres to close. So it's pointless sitting at home, banging your fists on the floor, saying, "I want to be a ballet dancer". It'd be like mewling and puking with rage because you can't be a town crier or a switchboard operator.
Or a cruise ship steward. We were treated last week to the most joyous and uplifting spectacle. An aerial photograph of five gigantic liners being broken up for scrap in a Turkish shipyard. I gazed at it for several minutes, feeling all warm and fuzzy at the thought of how these hideous eyesores would never again ruin anyone's view of St Mark's or the Sydney Opera House or a Norwegian fjord.
With their rear ends removed, you could see into the rabbit warren of their interiors and imagine how much misery had been generated. The loneliness. The diarrhoea.
Let me illustrate my hatred of these gigantic floating vomit buckets with some numbers. In a typical week, a liner with 3,000 people on board will produce more than 200,000 gallons of sewage and a million gallons of grey water, teeming with body fluids, eczema flakes and HRT-flecked sick. Legally, all of this can be pumped into the sea.
Along with the contents of all the bins.
It was reported in the Financial Times last year that the luxury cruise operator Carnival's fleet alone produces more emissions of sulphur oxides than all of Europe's 260 million cars.
Sir Sir Attenborough--a man so respected that they knighted him twice--was banging on in his recent Netflix eco-rant that we must all give up meat, but what's the point of taking that one small and unpleasant step if Wilbur and Myrtle are still allowed to fill the seas with their turds and the sky with enough carbon to make half a dozen Boeing Dreamliners?
What has always fascinated me about these ships, though, is not the damage they do to the sky and the fish: it's the fact that they're full of drunk, weird people and there's no police on board. Between 2011 and 2015, 116 people simply disappeared while on a cruise. That may explain why sea levels are rising: because of all the dead plastic women who've been thrown into it by jealous husbands.
By law, there must be a person on board with some kind of medical certificate. But who's to say the certificate wasn't issued after the person had spent six months in a remote village, administering ground-up bones and potions as a pox doctor's clerk?
And then there's the question of who's cooking the food. If you are a good chef, you will get a job at a top restaurant or hotel in a bright and vibrant city. If you are less good, you will end up in a burger van at the side of the A429 or at café in the provinces. So how bad to do you have to be to wind up making gravy on a cruise liner?
I can't imagine, then, that life on board is much fun, but it's better than what happens when they let you off. The problem is that the brochures talk about all the exotic locations you'll visit, but the truth is you have to dock in a shipyard, and they're not exotic at all.
I once watched a cruise liner disgorging its orange passengers onto Barbados. They'd doubtless read about how they'd meet Simon Cowell at the Cliff restaurant and dip their toes in a turquoise sea. But instead, they got off, climbed onto what looked like a train, but was in fact a converted Ford Transit van pulling some rickety wooden carriages, and were deposited on the other side of the docks, outside some not-at-all convincing chattel houses, where they bought Rasta hats, before it was time to get back on board and head to Trinidad.
Sure, they could tell friends in the Harvester back home that they'd been to Barbados, and they had, in the same way that I could say I've been to Minneapolis because I once changed planes at the airport.
Anyway, the photograph of all those liners being turned into kettles demonstrates that the cruise holiday, mercifully for all concerned, is coming to an end.
Or is it? Because last week we were all treated to the unedifying spectacle of P&O's brand new ship, the Iona, which is bound for its home port of Southampton. Billed, hilariously, as an "excellence-class" liner, it can handle 5,200 passengers and even has its own gin distillery. It is like Prora, the Nazi-built resort, only uglier.
It is said this giant will set off on its maiden voyage early next year, but I wouldn't bet on that. And even if it does lumber off to ruin the peace and tranquillity of a pristine spring morning, I wouldn't count on it being what you'd call "packed".
Which makes me wonder. If it can't operate as a cruise ship and it can't be scrapped because P&O just spent more than £700m building it, what does the future hold for this 19-deck monster?
Well, there was a plan recently to house migrants on ships while their paperwork is sorted out, but for reasons I can't understand, young people were cross about this too. So how's this for an idea. The government takes the Iona off P&O's hands, puts it in the middle of the North Sea, renames it the HMP Alcatraz and fills it with prisoners.
Escape would be impossible. Overcrowding in the current prisons would ease. And all the robbers and rapists would get what the cry-baby lefties have been demanding for years: a choice of restaurants, four swimming pools and a spa.
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If there's a bump in the road, you'll find it
The Clarkson Review: Aston Martin DBX
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Oct. 18)
The Aston Martin DBX is an all-new car that will compete in a sector of the market where the company has never been before. And to make that strategy even riskier, this SUV is being built in a brand new, untested factory and being launched into showrooms that have seen significantly fewer customers since the start of the coronavirus pandemic.
Other small motoring manufacturers around the world--Lamborghini, Bentley, Ferrari and so on--are owned by big car companies, so they have access to all the latest technology and are cushioned to a certain extent from any virus-related problems. Whereas Aston Martin's owners include a man who made his fortune by selling trousers.
He and a consortium of other businessmen have invested £500m in Aston, which sounds a lot, but that's roughly what Renault would spend on a new heater knob. And the money arrived, as did the new boss--poached from Mercedes-AMG--when the DBX was pretty much finished.
It was therefore designed on a shoestring by a company whose share price was wearing margarine trousers on a slide into oblivion. Plans to make the DBX all-electric were shelved early on, and the proposed fitting of a new V6 hybrid postponed, so it has ended up with a 4-litre Mercedes engine and lots of Mercedes kit that was bang up to date--about 10 years ago.
After such a difficult birth, I was not expecting it to be any good, but if I say that here you will be very angry with me, because not liking an Aston Martin in this country is illegal. It's like saying you don't like the Queen. You just do. You were born that way.
So. Here goes. The first thing that surprised me about the DBX is its size. It's like Richard Osman, who you see sitting behind his desk on Pointless in the evening. You assume that because he's a man, he must be man-sized, but he isn't. He's taller than a telegraph pole. I had the DBX for five days, and in all that time I assumed it was the same length as a Porsche Macan. But in reality it's almost 2in longer than a Range Rover.
It's much lower, though, and perhaps that's what makes it so handsome. Well, that and the pillarless doors and the huge 22in wheels. And the optional bonnet blades. And, best of all, the colour. It was very definitely black. But when the sun came out, it was a dark green. It was wonderful.
I was also taken by the seemingly endless ways of tailoring your new DBX. You can choose what colour badge you'd like and what sort of stitching you have on the seats. There's even a Pet Pack, which gives you a rear bumper protector and a partition. And a Snow Pack.
You can also have a safe under the front passenger seat and a gun cabinet in the boot. So one thing is for sure: while the price of the DBX is £158,000, by the time you've spent a week or two on the configurator it's going to be way more than that.
High prices have been a problem for Aston in recent years, because the interiors of its cars never really felt special enough. That certainly isn't the case with this SUV. It's very good, chiefly because the manufacturer has ditched a recent move towards the square steering wheel and reverted to something circular. Some may criticise the ageing Mercedes infotainment system but, actually, it's from a time before all these systems got far too clever for their own good. It works well.
What doesn't work so well is the way you use buttons to select the gears. If my memory serves, we first saw these on a Ford Fiesta concept car back in the early 1990s, and I remember thinking at the time: "Wow. These don't work at all." They still don't--they're too far away.
What also doesn't work very well is the way the leather has been stitched so the seams are visible. As one reviewer said, it looks like botched plastic surgery, and it does, but there's another problem too. One of these seams, on the centre console, digs into your arm as you drive along and is very annoying.
But it's not as annoying as the bumpiness of the ride. When I read that the DBX was fitted with 48-volt active anti-roll bars, I assumed it would glide along like a hovercraft. But it doesn't. Partly because of the big wheels, I suspect, it crashes hard into potholes, which makes it a bloody nightmare in London, and on the motorway it literally wobbles. If you try to sing in this thing to pass the time, you will get a very clear understanding of what's meant by vibrato.
I cannot understand how this has happened. Aston must know that the people who will buy this car are likely to be in their fifties and sixties, and that people in this age group are long past the time when sleeping on the floor is an acceptable end to the evening, no matter how good the party was.
Sure, the DBX is a fast and rewarding car when you are in the upper echelons of the rev range and the differentials are busy whizzing power to whichever wheel is best able to handle it. But nobody who wants an SUV wants to drive like this. They'd gladly put up with a bit more lean and a bit more understeer if it meant they could relax on the way home from work, rather than getting an idea of what it might be like to drive on a road made from corrugated iron.
Off road? I don't know, to be honest, and you never will either, because although it has all the right tech to deal with the rough stuff, it sits on fat, fast, low-profile tyres, so the instant you show it a field of wet grass you'll know you're going home on foot.
This is all very worrying because I'm heading to the point when I have to tell a nation of Aston fans that the new car is not much good.
However, I genuinely have a problem with most of the boutiquey SUVs that have come along in recent years. The Bentley Bentayga is a lot better-looking after its recent facelift, but it's still no beauty. The Rolls-Royce Cullinan is wilfully awful to behold. The Lamborghini Urus doesn't quite have the courage of its convictions. The Maserati Levante is pointless. The Jaguar F-Pace is good, but in a different, lower league, and the Alfa Romeo Stelvio serves as a constant reminder you should have bought the Giulia Quadrifoglio instead.
So, when you look at the competition, the DBX starts to make sense. And it continues to make sense right up to the moment you remember the car that started this particular ball rolling 50 years ago: the Range Rover. The first is still by far the best.
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And here's the Sun column: "Without insects we could all be dead in 50 years – we need to save them"
submitted by _Revelator_ to thegrandtour [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 16:19 notstartingshtiswear Proving I am a fit mother

I have noticed I am being provoked to look unfit.
I do not want to trigger another silent treatment or freeze out but I would like to prove my innocence and that I am being provoked into reacting to things they are not perceived slights I have no history of schizophrenia. Either I am married to an emotional sadist which as stated in my. Background I can work with but it is my fear that I am being led to slaughter and led to an ambush divorce.
I need to know what kind of breathalyzer Urine tests, and any other tests I can do to prove my innocence. I need to prove I am not schizophrenic which is. (Something he keeps playing on YouTube during arguments “conversations in which I maintain my tone and volume only to become frustrated”) Any resources to call and get chat records from certain apps.
I know this story sounds bizarre I am not looking to hear that I am a victim I am looking for facts to prove my innocence and I am not trying to hurt or condemn my husband but I can not sit back any longer to endure another scheduled disconnect or fake argument. I am spending precious time trying to figure everything that’s happening and our children need my focus so please even though my background is concerning I am not interested in portraying my spouse as evil and I want real advice.
Background: I thought my marriage was in reconciliation. I admit I tried setting up profiles to catch my husband but that was due to trickle truthing. I let my time be consumed by looking up Julian codes on condoms and reviewing phone bills. By the time I resolved to give up. I guess I was in denial then anger then, negotiated, then accepted then became numb.
I’ve offered certain scenarios because I believe I am with a conflict avoidant that has a high need of things. We are very sexually active he never said I was emotionally abusive until two weeks ago. Has not stated he needs space. In this journey I became very submissive, to the point I was very suggestive, this was due to the way I was treated for good behavior and stonewalling during “unbecoming behavior” I naively thought my H was a red pill person and so I subscribed to the reddit with a few other Reddit’s to try to understand his mindset.
The point is I have become so permissive and submissive the fact that I am still incurring a weekly disconnect or detachment is becoming very worrisome. He has said things like I am a better pool player when I am sober. He has lectured me etc. When I was dropping our kids off to our day care company they could tell I was upset and I confessed it was a personal issue that I was trying to wrap my head around my spouse taking me to a location where he had refused to kiss me once.
The same person I noticed there is the same person I was encouraged to hang out with. They are the same person that casually suggested that I meet them at a Alcoholic Anonymous meeting.
I have been berated in public and also sexually by other women.
In my efforts to salvage things I remembered that when we spoke about his indiscretions he mentioned the OW giving him a three way, he would never confess to anything I didn’t have proof of before hand. I managed to find accounts that linked to his preferences and adult sites and one recurring theme was cuckholding and submissive. I am naturally up for anything which is why I responded so diligently to the discovery. I took accountability as I felt to blame because I think affairs and their discovery takes the main focus off of the person that stepped out it makes them the villain so I tried to get to the actual root of the problem. I did make it about myself the first month and that is because I had suspected for a long time.
During this time after those months I noticed he would jerk his head around anytime he saw a white SUV and when we would make love in the shower he brought up a particular persons name and how they looks so innocent but in fact very devious.
I also asked a woman to lunch and during that time she was kind and informative but during that time she leaned in and berated me I thought this was a test to see if I was a dom or submissive. She was very helpful in trying to understand my husband but she seemed to have an idea of me way before hand she spoke about things as if she understood why I was “possessive” and here I was calmly telling her I loved my husband and I wanted to see him happy and I would never stand in the way of that happiness. That one person could not really be another’s everything. I stated that I could not understand the disconnects.
******Anyhow recently we were in a couples profile of ours and routinely he gives out our Kik one particular chat was deleted that was obviously active before I recognized the name and I admit I was very aggressive. I was desperate and panicking that nothing I was doing whether it be voluntarily or suggested was repairing the bond with my long time husband and best friend. I typed out that I was very resentful to share a man when it’s so apparent he is deleting chats. I demanded to know her name and I told her that we were not interested in her but we were in another woman (the woman I had coffee with) I stated this because I am open minded and if my husband is polyamorous but ashamed I will help him come to this realization.
Anyways- I said some things I regret and am truley remorseful she kept her calm and said do not “sass me” she also said “your blank is trash and that’s the real reason ya’ll are on the site looking for better”
I knew how much this meant to him and I apologized and to my knowledge she brushed it off. I also confirmed upon her arrival privately that she was comfortable and if she had accepted my apology for being so aggressive I explained my “paranoia” as it were. She reassured me she had no problem with me and understood “that’s marriage for you”** After we were all intimate she asked to wash her hands and asked for a towel to dry her hands, I produced a clean hand towel and several other cloth towels and she started specifically asking for a PAPER towel she sat on the bed and crumpled it up and turned to my husband. She said “what is the word Basura is it” in which he responded “the word for trash yes” they both looked at me and smiled. I my was then that I started to realize my husband has encouraged me to meet with people he has met first or someone at his own suggestion.
(( I do not want full custody unless I find that he has purposely manipulated me which would make him possibly do that to our sons. This aligns with the genres I found and the reoccurring theme of sub bullies home wrecking kinks and cuckholding. It is true I like to please my husband and see him pleased but I am not into being blind sided. It is something I could role play if it was consensual. )))
***£Actual gaslighting here: The next hour she described her “bi polar friend” she described how her grandfather cut off the wings of chickens trying to leave the coop. All the while making strong eye contact with me. She mentioned she liked trucks and a specific brand and my husband mentioned my widowed father- she stated she would date my father and drive his truck around. She stated how her other friend is boring and only wears black no other colors these are all mere coincidences but then she mentioned she was an onlyfans girl. Before all of this happened I stated it’s a possibility for her to sleep over but after the hour of passive aggressive chuckling at me as if I was some dumb person and asking me how big my washing machines were and showing me her new washing machines. Telling us about animal torture and showing us her guns etc before she left she shook his hand and said “pleasure doing business with you”
I started to remember other interactions with women that had connections platonically with him. One blonde who told me my clothes were old and had holes in them.
It seems as if he is having women berate and degrade me so that I can react I’m not sure if it is a reaction for an emotional sadism which I could actually work with or if he is trying to make me seem unfit and paranoid. I do know he is trying to get a ride out of me and a reaction because on my birthday, people at the same location that he is a regular at kept saying “what a trash shot” any opportunity to use the words “trash” even on the way out. That night he urged me to drink a beer which I did not and he urged me to use the bathroom. This was something he almost got angry about. When we left he acted callus and unkind and very short with me things I would get atleast a two day silent treatment if I were to do them to him.
One thing has remained through this time period and it is his effort to communicate his needs and also empathize with mine. I am often met with covert passive aggression including eye rolls sighs and mocking. For a long time I would basically sit in the floor and cry and feel absolutely crazy until I became submissive.
After that submission to my marriage husband the fights became more and more bizarre as he ran out of material in my opinion.
submitted by notstartingshtiswear to RBI [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 08:00 Jrubas Rugaru: Chapter One

First chapter of a longer story.

****

Jeffery Morgan stared absently out the wet back window of his Uncle Tim’s station wagon, his mind in turmoil. His delicate chin rested in his upturned palm and his clear hazel eyes swirled with secret worry. A green rucksack containing all of his most important possessions sat on his lap, its weight comforting, like a hug.
Fifteen and bookish with lank brown hair and clad in a maroon zip-up hoodie, Jeff liked to think he was smarter than the average kid...because that was the only advantage he had. He was tall and willowy, limbs too long, and the polar opposite of athletic. He didn’t like sports or roughhousing, and video games failed to hold his interest for very long. He wasn’t like his peers and both he and they knew it: Some picked on him, but most left him alone...totally and soul-crushingly alone.
He didn’t have any real life friends, but he did have friends online. He sometimes wrote fan fiction for a cartoon show that he no longer watched but once loved, and through that he met a group of guys on Discord that he really got along with. They were slightly older and edgy - they laughed about Nazis in voice chat and called everyone they didn’t like the N-word or the F-word. Jeff didn’t really like that, but it’s not like they were really racist or anything. Like one of them once pointed out to him, they were teenagers rebelling against their middle class liberal parents, so what else were they going to be but dumb and racist?
Even with them, though, he sometimes got lonely. If he wasn’t reading or writing, he’d start to feel his isolation the way one might feel the flu or a toothache.
It was all the worse because he couldn’t just go out and meet people if he wanted; he was shy and self-conscious, which made meeting people hard.
He sighed.
Next to him, his sister Kelsy folded her arms over her chest and fixed the back of Aunt Margaret’s headrest with a petulant expression. Twelve and bratty, she wore a sleeveless dress and sandals despite the November chill and her dirty blonde hair in a sideways ponytail that she thought made her look fashionable but actually made her look like something from the nineties. Like him, her features were soft and her eyes light. Her pert nose was different from his pug, and her lips were just a little poutier, as they should have been.
Up front, Uncle Tim fiddled with the radio and Aunt Margaret endlessly scrolled through her iPhone.
They were currently making their way through downtown Keyser, a working class community perched on the muddy banks of the Potomac River separating West Virginia and Maryland. Antiquated brick structures dating back to the 1880s lined the slanted streets and the spires of the stately Potomac State College building loomed high over town. Rain hissed on the pavements and traffic moved at a crawl. Jeff craned his neck to see, and spotted a crumbling concrete bridge spanning the gap between states. A confused tangle of train tracks followed the shore, old tankers and rail cars sitting motionless along its length, their bodies rusting like unburied skeletons in the rain.
Westernport, Maryland, their final destination, lay ten miles downstream, a collection of comfortable houses, narrow lanes, and shady trees edging one of the many bends in the Potomac’s course. Jeff’s grandparents lived there, and now, after the accident, that’s where he and Kelsy would live too.
Thinking of the wreck that killed his parents turned Jeff’s stomach. They were out celebrating Dad’s Big Promotion at work. It started to rain, much like it was now, and on their way home, Dad lost control of the car. Jeff’s morbid curiosity - a longstanding trait that had never served him well - got the better of him and he looked up news reports online. The car skidded, struck the retaining wall, flipped, then burst into flames. The police said they died instantly, but Jeff wondered if they did, or if that was just another empty platitude meant to lessen the sting, like they’re in a better place.
Most words of consolation are. Grown ups tell you and each other whatever they can to ease the pain, whether they actually believe it themselves or not. People, Jeff had already learned, almost always prefer pretty lies to ugly truths, and if you give them a choice, like that guy in The Matrix with a red pill in one hand and a blue in the other, they’ll go for the lie and clutch it like a scared little kid with a teddy bear.
He was no different when you got right down to it.
Uncle Tim settled for a station playing Taylor Swift and Jeff grimaced. He didn’t like Taylor Swift, or most music for that matter.
On the other side of the bridge, the highway curved up and out of sight. Uncle Tim turned left and followed another road matching the swollen river bend-for-bend. Kelsey glared at Aunt Margaret’s seat and impatiently tapped her foot. She didn’t want to move to Westernport. Unlike Jeff, she had friends back home in Franklin. Her life couldn’t be picked up and moved as easily as his. Sometimes, Jeff envied her.
“You guys excited?” Uncle Tim asked. He was a pair of limpid brown eyes in the rearview mirror.
“No,” Kelsey said before Jeff could reply.
Uncle Tim shrugged one shoulder, at a loss for how to reply. He and Aunt Margaret didn’t have kids and they always struck Jeff as uncomfortable around them. “You gotta give it time,” he said. “You’ll settle in, make new friends, and before you know it, you’ll love it there.”
“No I won’t,” she said sullenly.
Jeff didn’t think he would either, but he didn’t like Franklin, and if his memory was correct, he didn’t like Parkersburg before it.
They lapsed into silence and Jeff vacantly regarded the river, flashes of brown and white peeking through gnarled trees. A sheer rock-face loomed over the highway on the right, putting Jeff in mind of ancient ruins, and the blacktop angled up with the terrain. Now the river was below and the misty, time worn mountains of West Virginia directly across. From here, Jeff could just make out Westernport in the distance, white clapboard buildings clustered among dense stands of trees. He picked out the green roofed steeple of the Methodist church on Front Street, named (presumably) because it fronts the river.
A mile outside of town, a foul smell crept into the car, and Jeff’s nose wrinkled.
Kelsey sniffed the air and threw her head back with an exasperated groan.
The highway wound out of the hills and hit a straightaway. A brown sign with gold writing stood on the right. WELCOME TO WESTERNPORT, MD. The smell was stronger now, burning the insides of Jeff’s nose and sending his stomach rocking like the pitching deck of a ship in rough swells. He looked off to the left, and there, screened behind barren trees and a chain-link fence, was the source.
The sewage treatment facility.
Big, boxy, and drab, like a prison, it sat on a rounded peninsula jutting into the river, thick white smoke billowing from its single funnel. Kelsey pinched her nose and Jeff breathed through his mouth. The stench produced by the plant - which treated wastewater and sewage from Westernport, Luke, and Piedmont - permeated every inch of town, as inescapable as sand in the desert; shutting windows didn’t help, spraying Fabreeze didn’t help, nothing helped except for getting far, far away. No matter where you went, no matter what you did, the cloying whiff of shit would forever haunt the inside of your nose.
“I don’t wanna live here,” Kelsey whined. She sounded like she was going to break down crying.
Uncle Tim chuckled knowingly. He and Dad grew up here, so he understood. Even so, Jeff detected a mocking inflection - he, at least, got to go back home to Moorefield. “It’s not like this all the time,” he said. “Only certain parts of the day.”
“That’s still too much,” Aunt Margaret said and waved her hand in front of her face as if to dispel the odor.
“It’s bracing,” Uncle Tim said dismissively, “puts some hair on your chest.”
Aunt Maragret sneered in distaste, and he erupted in hearty, not entirely good-natured laughter.
In town, Westernport Road turns into Church Street. A gas station, a McDonald’s, and a Dollar General crowded the left flank and a gentle hill topped will houses fell back from the right. Near the river, tumbledown row houses with dirty siding overlooked 1st Street, and closer, Westernport Elementary, an archaic two story brick deal with big windows, huddled where it had since the twenties. Because of the village’s cramped layout, the houses on Church Street were virtually on top of the road, front yards consisting of cracked sidewalk or, if you were really lucky, a sliver of grass just wide enough to attract fallen leaves.
A diner, a bank, a barber shop, and a hardware store gathered around a four way intersection comprised Downtown. Ahead, Church Street crossed over George’s Creek, which bisects Westernport before filtering into the Potomac, and slithered off into the highlands to the north. On the left, Victory Post Road entered the neighboring town of Piedmont, West Virginia, by way of a bridge with no name.
Uncle Tim turned right, taking them deeper into town, and Jeff took a deep, calming breath. The sooner they got there, the sooner he’d have to start school, and of all the things he wasn’t looking forward to in the coming weeks and months, that was number one. On the very first day, he would walk in there an outsider, and everyone would know he didn’t belong, that he wasn’t one of them.
He didn’t want that.
He wanted to be invisible.
Victory Post Road weaved through the rest of Westernport. Jeff spotted the library, a Lutheran church, an auto shop - big roll-top doors open to reveal the shadowy interior of a garage - and the American Legion Post 155.
Just across the town limits, Uncle Tim turned into a dirt driveway wedged between two hillocks. At the top, Grandma and Grandpa’s house, a squat American Foursquare with red siding and a pitched roof over the porch, occupied a wide clearing ringed by woodland. Smoke drifted from the chimney and warm, inviting light shone in the first floor windows, lending the place a rustic charm that put Jeff at ease...even if only a little.
The tires spun and squelched in the sodden yard, and Uncle Tim gunned the engine to keep from getting stuck. “Every time it rains or snows, this place turns into a swamp,” he commented as he killed the engine.
“Didn’t your dad say he was going to put gravel down or something?” Aunt Maragret asked.
Uncle Tim snorted. “He’s been saying that for twenty years.” He opened the door and climbed out, and Aunt Margaret followed.
Jeff lingered a moment, delaying the inevitable, then got out himself; thin drops of cold rain beat down on his head and shoulders, dampening his hair and hoodie. Kelsey, arms still defiantly crossed, sat where she was, brows furrowed stormily. His first instinct was to leave her alone, but now that Mom and Dad were gone, he was sort of responsible for her. “You coming?” he asked.
“No,” she spat.
The venom in her voice was strong enough to kill a grown man ten times over. Jeff’s resolve wavered and he almost walked away. “You have to,” he said.
Uncle Tim and Aunt Margaret stood by the trunk, Aunt Margaret with her head ducked against the rain and Uncle Tim grabbing Kelsey’s bags.
“I don’t want to,” she said, “I wanna go back to Franklin.”
He couldn’t believe he was saying this - well, thinking it - but he did too. “I know, but you can’t.”
She drew a deep breath and pushed it back out again in a savage rush.
Jeff opened his mouth, then reconsidered what he was going to say. Uncle Tim doesn’t want us so it’s this or an orphanage. He glanced at his uncle through the rear window, then leaned in. “We don’t have a choice,” he said, “we can’t stay with Uncle Tim.”
“I could have stayed with Kendall.”
Kendall Kramer was Kelsey’s best friend. They did everything together, from putting on make-up to talking back to the teacher, and leaving her behind hurt Kelsey more than she would ever admit.
Jeff was starting to get annoyed, but forced himself to be patient. Losing Mom and Dad was just as hard on her as it was on him, if not harder. “No, you couldn’t have. Her parents didn’t want you living with them, no one wants you living with them but Grandma and Grandpa.”
That came out much, much harsher than he meant, and Kelsey flinched. Great job. You should be a councillor one day. Why yes, little Susie, your mommy probably does hate your guts. “Me too,” he quickly added. “We just have to make the best of it. I don’t want to either but…what else am I going to do?”
She turned her head pointedly away, and Jeff rolled his eyes. Whatever.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he slammed the door and went around to the trunk. The mud sucked at his Vans and he almost stepped out of them.
Grandpa had come outside and stood on the porch, a cup of coffee clutched in one hand. Tall and lanky with white hair and a Wayatt Earp mustache, he wore a thermal undershirt tucked into dark brown trousers. His face was rugged and weatherbeaten, but unlined, and his blue eyes were sharp and crystal clear. He was sixty-six but if he dyed his hair, he could pass for fifty, maybe even forty-five.
He flashed a tight smile and nodded, and Jeff nodded back. Grandpa was what the books might call a salt-of-the-earth type. He worked at the paper mill in Lucas for thirty years, voted Democrat until they got too far left, and raised chickens and pigs out back (today only a few hens and a single rooster remain). He looked tough because he was, and he looked mean but wasn’t.
Uncle Tim slammed the trunk lid and, with a bulging bag in each hand, he struggled to the porch, Aunt Margaret trailing behind. Jeff glanced at the car to see if Kelsey was going to get out, and when she didn’t, he went on without her. Fine, he thought, be that way.
“What’cha got in there?” Grandpa asked and nodded to the bags.
With a grunt of exertion, Uncle Tim sat them on the top step and leaned back as if to crack a troublesome muscle. “Kelsey’s stuff,” he said. “She brought everything we could fit.”
Because Uncle Tim only had the car, Jeff and Kelsey couldn’t bring much. Grandpa was going to hire a moving truck to get the rest and bring it out. Kelsey, laboring under the delusion that whatever she didn’t pack was going to be thrown in the garbage (or worse, given to charity) stuffed every single outfit, plush teddy bear, shoe, and keepsake into her bag that she could.
Jeff came up the stairs to get out of the rain and Grandpa looked at him. “That all you got?” he asked.
“Yeah, I don’t bring anything else.”
The corners of Granda’s mouth turned slightly up in one of his muted quarter-smiles that you’d be forgiven for mistaking for gas. “There you go,” he said, “a real man travels light.”
“A real man helps his uncle with heavy things,” Uncle Tim put in. “Grab one of these bags, will you?”
Jeff picked one up, and his arm nearly came out of his socket. Uncle Tim wasn’t lying, it was heavy.
Grandpa scurried ahead, opened the door, and stepped aside. Jeff stopped, got a better grip, and fought the bag across the threshold.
The living room was a pit of gloom, lit only by the blue glow of an ancient TV and the light falling in from the kitchen. The local news was on, a weatherman standing before a map of the area and chattering about low pressure systems and umbrellas, and metal clanging sounded from the kitchen. Jeff took a deep breath through his nose then coughed. Moth balls, old people, and rump roast.
To his left, an armchair and a canned rocker bookended a wing-back loveseat with an Afhgan draped over the back. Framed photos dotted the green-papered walls. Knick-knacks, doilies, and ornamental plates packed a scarred oak-wood hutch that looked as old as Grandpa, if not older.
A broad set of oaken stairs to Jeff’s right provided access to the second floor. Being careful not to knock any of the pictures down or trip on the runner, Jeff carried the bag to the top. The hall was pitch black and he stopped to feel along the wall for the lightswitch. He’d been coming here every summer since he was a kid and still had trouble finding it.
When he got it, dim yellow light filled the hall, chasing the shadows to the corners, where they nested and plotted their return. Up here, the walls were split in two by brown chair rail molding, beige paper with a floral pattern on top and wood paneling below. A vase full of artificial flowers stood on an end table in a little alcove, and scuffed wood flooring creaked under Jeff’s weight. The spicy scent of age seasoned the warm air and black and white photos of relatives Jeff had never met stared down at him as he passed.
There were three rooms up here. Grandma and Grandpa’s was at the end of the hall and Jeff and Kelsey’s on either side. At Kelsey’s door, he turned the knob and went inside.
Back home, Kelsey had a TV and a computer in her room, ditto Jeff, but here the accommodations were little more Spartan: A single neatly made bed, a dresser, and a rocking chair by the window. Wan light fell through lacy white curtains and suffused the darkness. A florid landscape panting hung above the bed and a full length mirror took up one dusty corner.
With only her phone to keep her occupied, Kelsey was going to be bored.
And when Kelsey was bored, she bellyached.
Leaving the bag on the bed, he went downstairs. Uncle Tim and Aunt Maragret stood in the foyer with Grandpa, and Grandma doted on Kelsey, who finally decided to join them. Grandma brushed her fingers through the little girl’s hair and cooed like she was the most adorable thing ever. “It’s so good to see you,” Grandma said.
“You too,” Kelsey said, partly to be polite and partly honest.
Grandma unhanded her and turned to Jeff. “You get taller every time I see you,” she said and held out her arms.
A short, rotund woman with long, messy hair the color of burnished steel and a pleasant face, she wore a red flannel shirt over a billowy black T-shirt that rustled with her movements. She believed in comfort over style and preferred men’s clothing to women’s because they fit better. Her hands were calloused and mannish from years of carpentry and tending the land, and her arms, when she wrapped them around Jeff’s lithe frame, thrummed with power like high tension wires. All those decades of chopping wood really paid off, he guessed.
“I’m only six,” Jeff demurred.
“Almost as tall as your grandfather,” she said.
“6’2,” Grandpa said. He looked at Uncle Tim, who barely reached 5’7. “It skips a generation.”
Uncle Tim snorted. “At least I don’t have to duck under everything.”
“You have to stretch,” Grandpa said. He patted Uncle Tim’s belly. “Think you’d have less of this.”
‘I’m saving up for the winter,” Uncle Tim said.
“Must gonna be a long winter,” Grandpa said.
After Uncle Tim and Aunt Margaret left, Jeff took his own bag to his room and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Like Kelsey’s, it was sparsely furnished with a bed, a dresser, a high boy, a wardrobe, and a desk and chair set. Jeff drew a deep breath and looked around, taking in every detail. He loved his grandparents and their house was a place of good feelings and good memories, but he didn't want to live there.
As filled with love as it might be, it wasn’t home.
Home was his parents, home was his room in Franklin, home was the lax rules and minimal oversight Mom and Dad employed. His grandparents weren’t overbearing, but they were different, older, and their ways weren’t his parents’.
He’d just have to get used to it, though.
Because his parents were dead and from now on, this place, this town, was his life.
Like he told Kelsey in the car, they just had to make the best of it.
And he honestly believed that.
But the question was: Could he?
And for that, he had no answer.
***
Robert Dunham, chief of the Westernport Police Department, started Thursday morning as he did any other: With whiskey, coffee, and a visit to Faye’s Diner.
A tall, lank man with black hair beginning to gray at the temples and icy blue eyes that belied his genuine warmth, Dunham had lived his entire forty-three years in Westernport, and had been eating breakfast at Faye’s every day since he was fifteen. It was a ritual for him, and if Dunham was anything, it was a creature of habit. He woke at the same time every morning, went to bed at the same time each night, and did the same things he’d been doing for twenty years in exactly the same way.
His philosophy was this: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Change isn’t a bad thing, but too many people these days just aren’t happy with consistency. With all the computers, Facebook, and iPhones, the human attention span had shrunk and now everyone had ADHD and just can’t sit still. Dunham’s parents, like many of the old timers inhabiting the hills around Westernport, were livestock farmers, simple people with simple ways and conservative values. They went to bed at the same time every night, had dinner at the same time every evening, and watched the same TV programs every week. They rarely deviated from course, and alterations came few and far between. For example, Dunham’s folks had the same living room set for forty years. It was plaid, threadbare, and ugly, but comforting too, because while everything outside changed, it - and everything else in the house - remained the same, an island of stability in the shifting sands of time.
He didn’t always feel that way. When he was younger, Westernport bored him to tears; outside of mudding, swimming in the river, and watching the mountains erode, there wasn’t much to do. If you had a car, you could drive the twenty miles to Cumberland where there were restaurants, a movie theater, the YMCA, and the mall, but if not, you were pretty much out of luck. As a kid, he wanted action, adventure, big cities, all the things you’d expect a rural farm boy to pine for.
But he never got them. He stayed right here in town, married, joined the department, divorced, and passed his days doing his best Andy Griffith - which was pretty good, if he said so himself.
Like the fabled town of Mayberry, Westernport was clean, polite, and safe. No one left their doors unlocked - even Aunt Bea wouldn’t do that - but if they forgot to before turning in, well, chances are nothing would happen anyway.
Unfortunately, that was beginning to change. Meth production (and consumption) was quickly becoming a popular pastime in the area just like it was in small towns across the nation. Last year, the state police raided a house on Pine Street and seized enough meth to power a fleet of truckers for a month, and the year before that, a tweaker attacked someone at Dell’s Tavern and nearly killed him. Dunham likened it to cancer. Right now, they were in the early stages, but give it time and it would spread.
Another sign of the times, he supposed.
Whether change was good or not, it was beginning to creep in like the rising tide, and sometimes, it left him feeling lost.
That made his daily visits to Faye’s all the sweeter.
Situated on the corner of Church Street and Victory Post Road, Faye’s was housed in a converted rail car, long and narrow with big plate-glass windows and a chrome finish. Neon letters spelled DINER across the roof like a beacon to the hungry, and a special board by the door listed all of the things you could buy inside...which wasn’t much. Faye kept the menu simple and cheap. It wasn’t fancy food, but it was good, stuck to your ribs, and didn’t break your wallet.
Just past eight, Dunham pulled into the gravel parking lot and frowned at the pick-up truck in his usual spot. Such a small thing and inconsequential, but it still nagged him as he drew alongside it and parked. His greatest flaw, his ex-wife Jeni said, was being “OCD.” He liked things done a certain way and when something wasn’t the way it ought to be, it bothered him, like a loose pebble in his shoe. He didn’t see that as a flaw, but he could admit that he took it a little too far sometimes.
Obviously, or else Jeni wouldn’t have left him.
Shoving those thoughts away lest they sour his mood, he killed the engine and got out. Cold drops of rain pelted his green canvas coat and mud squelched beneath his meticulously polished boots. Inside, a lunch counter flanked the back wall and booths with red vinyl upholstery lined the front. A Pac-Man cabinet that hadn’t worked in twenty years sat next to the bathrooms, and the warm smells of sizzling bacon, frying eggs, and hashbrowns drifted from the order window. A fat man in a green vest and a John Deere cap with a mesh back took up one of the stools, his hairy ass crack bared to the world, and a waitress in a pink uniform refilled his coffee, then went to the window, where a plateful of pancakes waited.
Dunham unzipped his coat, brushed the hem behind his gun, and sat, leaving two spaces between him and the trucker. “What’d you say, Curt?” he asked.
Curt Fields glanced at him, then grinned when he realized who it was. “Hey, Bobby,” he said, “cleaning up the streets?”
Another lifer - one who had grown up in Westernport and was fated to die there as well - Curt drove for P.H. Anderson Trucking out of Cumberland. He and Dunham went to school together and were good friends in seventh and eighth grade. They drifted apart in high school. There was no reason...no bad blood, no umbridge...it just happened. “Not on an empty stomach,” Dunham said archly.
The waitress came back, grabbed a mug, and sat it in front of Dunham in one fluid motion, as though she had been doing this for thirty-five years. To be fair, she had. Tall with bushy blonde hair streaked through with gray, Maud Anson was like Faye’s itself: A permanent fixture by which you could set your watch. Deep lines radiated from the corners of her mouth and eyes and her skin had gradually taken the appearance of cracked leather. She had to be in her sixties, but Dunham didn’t know and had never asked: It’s not polite to ask a woman her age.
“Mornin’, Bob,” she said and filled the cup.
“Morning, Maud.”
“Usual?”
Dunham mulled that over a moment. Creature of habit though he may be, he did enjoy occasionally mixing things up. Normally, he had an egg (sunny side up), two strips of bacon, two sausage links, and a piece of white toast, lightly burned. It was good, it filled him up, and that’s all that mattered to him. These days, he was starting to think Jeni was right.
You’re too predictable, she huffed once, it’s irritating.
In his defense, Jeni was one of those people who fetishize leaving their small town. When they first started dating in high school, they both wanted to get the hell out of Westernport, and some evenings, they’d park on Prospect Hill, lay in the bed of Dunham’s battered hand-me-down Ford, and gaze up at the stars while talking about all the places they wanted to go. Dunham eventually grew up and got practical, Jeni didn’t; she was a near forty-year-old woman with stars in her eyes and still dreaming of New York City, as though it weren’t an overtaxed, anti-cop hell hole.
She hated the mundane and the predictable...and unfortunately, he was both of those things.
Maud was looking at him funny, and he sighed. “Switch out the sausage for grits,” he said.
Nodding, she jotted his order down in her notepad, ripped it out, and stuck it to the wheel.
While he waited, Dunham sipped coffee and went through his mental to-do list. The dining room filled by degrees until every seat was taken and the roaring din of three dozen voices talking at once choked the air. Willey Harper, Westernport’s resident drunk, sat on Curt’s left and conversed with Dan Strode, the minister. Tall and willowy with a shock of white hair, an unkempt beard, and perpetually bleary eyes, Willey was the janitor at the high school before he hurt his back and went on disability. For nearly ten years, he’d been cashing other people’s tax dollars and drinking himself stupid. Dan, short and pudgy with glasses and a combover, had conducted every burial, marriage, and Baptism in Westernport since George Bush Sr. was president.
After eating, Dunham laid a twenty down on the counter and left. The rain had slackened and a chilly breeze washed over him. He zipped his jacket up, ducked his head, and went to the car. Behind the wheel, he started the engine, backed up, and swung right. A truck hauling timber blasted by on Victory Post Road, and Dunham’s eyes went to the rusted chains keeping the logs together. Ever since Final Destination 2, those trucks made him nervous. All it took was one weak link and BAM, Armageddon in downtown Westernport.
Turning left, he drove the three blocks to the police station, a modern brick-and-glass building on Church Street with a blue awning over the door. He parked in the side lot, cut the engine, and got out.
In the lobby, he wiped his feet on the carpet and shook himself dry like a fussy dog. Tammy Reid, the secretary/dispatcher, sat behind a counter shielded from the public by durable plexiglass, her plain face buried in paperwork. A man-sized door to its right provided access to the squad room, and Durham went through.
Cluttered desks dotted a wide, tile-floored room, and metal filing cabinets stood sentry against dingy white walls. Billy Norton, the station rookie, got up from his terminal and carried a sheet of paper over to the fax machine. Tall and thin with blonde hair, his brown uniform fit him perfectly, but still seemed somehow too big, as though he were a kid playing dress up and not a real cop at all. The illusion was strongest when he laughed.
Mike Van Scoy came out of the break room with a styrofoam cup of coffee and took a long, languid sip, looking for all the world like a man who wasn’t on the clock. A ten year veteran of the force, he was Billy’s opposite in every way: Short, olive complexioned, and cynical to the point of parody. Crime wasn’t ubitious to Westernport the way it was to larger towns, but listening to Mike talk, you’d think he’d seen everything from serial killers to terrorism. In actuality, the worst thing he ever saw was -
Dunham’s lips settled into a sour frown.
“Morning, Chief,” Mike said.
“Morning,” Dunham said. Mike fell in next to him. “Anything exciting happen?”
Mike worked the overnight shift along with Gavin Holmes. “Just Craig Donner beating his girlfriend up again.”
Dunham made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Every town over a certain size has its designated Bad Boy, and Craig Donner had been Westernport’s since he was fifteen. A few years older than Dunham, he started small, egging windows and fighting, then graduated to theft, assault, and manufacture and sale of meth. Willey Harper might be the town drunk, but Craig Donner wasn’t far behind, and whereas Willey was a happy drunk who didn’t bother anyone, Craig got mean. In the nearly twenty years Dunham had been with the department, he ran Craig in on thirteen different occasions, five of them for slapping his girlfriend, Candy, around.
“Is he in a cell?” Dunham asked. There were ten holding cells in the basement, all of them empty as of yesterday afternoon.
Mike shook his head. “Nah, Candy begged me not to so I left him.”
That was Candy alright. When Craig got liquored up and started hitting her, she called, then when it came time to put him in the back of the car, she went to pieces. Dunham didn’t believe in victim blaming, but Candy had every opportunity to get away from Craig and be done with it, but she never took it.
Hard to feel sorry for someone being bitten by a rabid dog when they refuse to leave its kennel.
“Anything else?” Dunham asked.
“No, sir,” Mike said and took a sip.
“Alright, you can go home.”
Mike nodded and rushed off, and Dunham went into his office. A small but tidy space with blue carpet, white walls, and a large oak desk that gleamed in the overhead lights, it was an oasis of order and stability and here, surrounded by plaques, certificates, and commendations from the state (some signed by the governor himself), Dunham found the peace that he had long missed at home.
Sitting, he powered on his computer, then slipped a glossy photograph from the desk’s center drawer. A pretty girl about sixteen smiled up at him, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder like waves of wheat and her crystal blue eyes still like mountain lakes. The atmosphere darkened with tension and Dunham’s lips screwed up in a puckered grimace.
Veronica Nicely was three weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday when someone killed her in September. Her body was found in a farmer’s field west of town. She was fully clothed and face down, arms and legs splayed like the broken appendages of a discarded mannequin. Her chest and stomach had been slashed with razor sharp talons and her entrails fell onto the ground with a sickening wet plop when the medical examiner turned her over. Shedded fur salted her tacky skin and the ground around her.
Dunham concluded that she was attacked by either a large dog or by the wolves who lived in the surrounding hills.
Then the M.E. found the bite marks on her legs and inner thighs.
They were human.
Later on, the M.E. ascertained that the other wounds were made with a razor, not claws. They’re too clean, he said and traced one with his gloved pointer finger. Claw marks are messy, they tear the flesh. These are clean and precise.
The killer wanted to make it look like an animal attack and did such a good job it fooled Dunham. If it weren’t for modern forensics, they might have gotten away with it.
In the near two months since, Dunham had been following leads, asking questions, and compiling evidence...of which there wasn’t much. Veronica was pretty, popular, and kind; she never got into trouble, didn’t have a boyfriend, and didn’t drink or use drugs. At first, Dunham surmised that she was known to the killer, but by now, he had to admit that it was probably random, the work of an itinerant killer just passing through, here and gone like a shadow in the night.
That nagged him. Having a cold case on his hands triggered his OCD and left him feeling restless. Thinking of her...a bright and vivacious girl with a promising future snatched rudely away...pissed him off. Her killer was out there right this very second while she lay under six feet of dirt in Mount Carmel. The unfairness of it all weighed down on Dunham’s shoulders and if he wasn’t careful, it would start to consume him.
“We’ll find him,” he promised, and the croak of his voice in the silence disturbed him. This was one of his daily rituals, soothing in its monotony. At this point, he didn’t know if they’d catch her killer or not, but as long as he was out there, Dunham had hope.
Returning the photo to the drawer, Dunham logged onto his computer and started his day.
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2020.10.18 20:44 SurprisePure7515 Covid has mad me a better person

During quarantine I spent the first 2 months all depressed but then I realized it would be a rare opportunity to do things that I would have never had the time for ... so I got my PPL( Private pilots license) started riding motorcycles again after a long pause , and finally finished my credits and received my bachelors! Now when I go on dates with my newly acquired skills/ lifestyle it’s seems that women love everything about me! And my dating life has increased from average to near Top Gun Level romance .. lol in all seriousness though we must all use this rare opportunity to home in on our skills and do what we love NOW!
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2020.10.18 20:09 MrOmegakid [AA] Case #0074 - Eric Bryan

"Please... I just need to know what happened to my son..."
Eli had seen a lot in his life. He'd dealt with all sorts of seedy types. Hell, he'd been shot a time or two. But there was no defense in his arsenal against a crying mother. Adding to that, she grabbed his shirt and started crying into his chest.
He knew she couldn't afford his fee, but... he was rather trapped. He could do one pro-bono job... Nothing wrong with that.
"Alright. I'll look into it. Tell me what you know. The last time you saw him, the last place he was, age, appearance... anything that could be useful."
She sat back, taking just a second to compose herself slightly, "Six... six months ago. H-he was supposed to pick up milk from the store and he went out with his friends instead. We had a... We had an argument. He left so angry with me... And I haven't seen him since..." She paused as another wave of sobbing threatened to overwhelm her.
"I understand this is hard, but I need any information you can provide. Anything that tells me how to find Eric." Eli gave her a smile that felt as fake as it probably looked, "Did you go to the police?"
"I-I did... they came back a day later with this picture. Here... let me..." Mrs. Bryan stood and walked over to the kitchen table. She pushed aside the stacks of 'missing' posters and pulled up a small photograph. She hurried back to Eli, pressing the small item into his palm, "They said he left. That this picture is all there is and all there needs to be. This picture... this is not my son. My son has red hair, and this boy has black hair. My son is... bless his heart... a little heavyset... but this boy is as skinny as a rail. Mr. Thorne, he's sixteen. He's top of his class and dating the class president. He just got a new job. He wouldn't just leave."
"And even if he had, why wouldn't the police bring him back?" Eli nodded, "Interesting. This class president... any chance Eric just ran away with her for a while?"
"No. Eric isn't like that. He would have said something. I already reached out to her family. Mr. Thorne... their daughter is just as worried as I am... but her parents... they said I've never had a son and they hung up on me. I've known them for years. They knew my late husband. They were at the hospital when Eric was born... They know I have a son."
Eli took a sharp breath. That was something he'd seen before. The police not searching for a missing underage boy was strange, but could be easily chalked up to lazy or dirty cops. Close family friends forgetting the boy entirely? That wasn't natural. That was very unlikely to be a cop on the take.
It was more likely to be something far worse. But he couldn't himself think about that.
Eli sat forward and "Mrs. Bryan, do you know where your son would have gone for the groceries? Somewhere that I can start looking?"
"Tom and Alva's on North Cherry. I can find you the address so-"
"No need. I actually shop there myself. Killer prices on produce." Eli stood and sighed, "Look... I'm not here to give you false hope. I will find out what happened to your son... one way or another. But I... I can't promise that I'll be able to bring him home."
She nodded her understanding and tried her best to keep it together, but as Eli pulled on his hat and coat, he could hear her sobbing behind him. Without looking back, he left the house.
******
Eli stood on the corner of North Cherry and West Haverford. Tom and Alva's, the little mom n' pop's drug store, was standing there, quiet and ignored by most. A few kids played on the corner nearby; not promising. A very shady-looking individual with a hoodie stood on the corner across the street from him; a potential witness. A police car rolled by every twenty minutes on the dot; more potential witnesses. He saw nothing on the street itself, which was not a surprise as Eric had disappeared six months prior. Turning to look at the storefront, he noted a security camera pointed at the door; a potential witness in its own right.
Eli pulled out his notebook from his coat pocket and clicked his pen, "Security camera... drug dealer... police..."
Eli turned and walked through the front door of Tom and Alva's and removed his hat. Ah, that familiar jingle of the bell always brought a little smile to his face. Aisles of chips and snacks made the place look like it had little more variety than a common gas station, but it was hard to deny that small-town feel the store gave off.
The only thing he didn't like to see were the prices. Two whole dollars for a bag of chips that small? How did anyone afford things in that town!? Their produce was priced fine but... that was no small amount. Or maybe it was. Things seemed to be more expensive without anyone caring. Plus, it seemed that money was either worth less or everything was worth more. Inflation was stupid.
He looked to the counter. It wasn't Tom or Alva manning the cash register. Just some young lady. Perhaps eighteen, nineteen... cute as a button with sheer boredom in her eyes.
"Excuse me, miss. My name is Elias Thorne and I was wondering if-"
"What are you supposed to be?"
"I'm a private investigator."
"You realize the 30s happened ninety years ago, right?"
Eli looked down at his clothing. The old trench coat, the white button-up and black vest, five-o-clock shadow on his face... even the Sinatra hat he held... yeah... he did look a little out-of-place in the modern day. Appearing to be in his mid-twenties didn't help his case any.
Eli looked up at the shopkeep and shrugged, "My mom said I looked like a very handsome man. Now, I have some-"
"You some sort of noir detective?"
"Yes... I'm... some sort..." Eli shook his head, "Miss, I really need to see your security tapes. The camera out front. I think it may have seen a crime six months ago, and-"
"Footage is deleted every month." She shrugged, "You're fresh outta luck. The gun store across the street deletes theirs every year. You might have some luck there."
"Obliged."
Eli left the little store and returned his hat to his head, grumbling the whole way across the street about irritating shopkeeps who wouldn't let him finish a damn sentence. Thankfully, the young woman had been observant enough to notice the external security camera on the gun store, aimed out at the street. He made his way into the gun store. Bars on the windows; that was a great sign. Guns of all sorts lined the unlocked cases. Hunting gear rested on the racks with ammunition sitting on the shelves. A portly, middle-aged man stood behind the counter.
"Excuse me, sir. My name is Elias Thorne-"
The shopkeep scoffed, "That's not a real name."
"It's on my driver's license." Eli rolled his eyes, "Look, we can talk about my name later. I need to see your security footage from six months ago. I believe it may have witnessed a crime."
"Sure thing. Where's your warrant?"
"Oh, I'm not with the police. I'm a private investigator. I'm looking into the disappearance of a young man named 'Eric Bryan'. Do you mind if I take a look at those tapes?"
"They're not on tape. Digital. And you won't be seein' them without a warrant. I know my rights."
"And I can see several things going on here that are terribly illegal. Maybe the cops will ignore it, but if I bring up that you have guns in unlocked cases with ammunition just sitting out... Well, even if the cops don't want to do anything, the newspaper will have a hell of a time writing up an article about your little shop." Eli walked up to the counter, "Now... how about those digital things?"
******
Eli looked through his notebook as he walked toward where he left his car. Young boy matching the rough description of Eric Bryan that he had gotten from Mrs. Bryan left Tom and Alva's. There had been a black, unmarked panel van. The license plate had been easily read from the camera. Six, clearly-armed men had thrown another man in the back of the van and taken notice of Eric Bryan when he had screamed. Eric had been forced to join them in the van.
One of those men... he looked sick. Unnatural. Like his skin was too loose to fit on his deformed skeleton.
That man had been playing with something he shouldn't have been.
He pulled out his new phone from his pocket. The damn thing had no buttons. He stabbed at the screen with his finger, putting in the short passcode his assistant had helped him with. He needed information he couldn't ask around about. Thankfully, his business partner had some connections at the police station.
His business partner, Howard Malone, had always been a strange man, stating that he liked to keep Eli around because weird things always happened when Eli was present. He'd been kind to Eli, though. Kind enough that Eli was more than willing to not ask questions about what Howard had been reading when Eli walked into his office once and he slammed the book down under his desk in a hurry. Although, that was probably less about how kind the man had been and more about Eli not wanting to know what Howard read when he was alone.
Contacts... 'H'... 'Howard Malone'. He hit the button that looked like a phone and pushed it up to his ear.
An older, husky voice answered, "Howard Malone, Private Investigator and part-time birthday clown. Which one might you be inquiring about today?"
"Howard, I know my name pops up on the screen thing when I call you. You know it's me."
"Elias! Haven't heard from you in a while. Kinda thought you'd gotten on the bad side of the wrong people." Howard laughed, "After what happened on Pine Street last week, I'm surprised to hear from you. How are you today?"
Pine Street. Another case he'd solved. It had started as something about a corrupt local politician that had gotten a man laid off, and ended with the politician taking potshots at Eli with a shotgun. It wasn't the first sticky situation Eli had escaped from, and the man had wound up in prison. Granted, he had been arrested for tax evasion, not attempted murder, but Eli had learned to count his victories where he could. He hadn't quite figured out how the guy had known he was coming, but that was a case for a different day.
"I need to have a license plate looked into. Can you pull some strings with Doris down at the station?"
"Of course I can pull some strings for you. Just a fair warning, she's not going to be particularly happy that it's you coming to see her, so I might leave that little detail out. If you send me the plate, I'll send it ahead to her and have her ready for you."
"Alright, I'll read it to you. Got a pen?"
"I'm babysitting my niece. No, I don't 'got a pen'. Just text it to me."
"Just find a pen."
"Elias, you gotta learn how the technology works at some point. Hell, I'm twenty years older than you! You should be teaching me!"
"Stuff it, Howard." Eli groaned, "There's a kid here. I'll just hand him a quarter to show me how it's done."
"One quarter isn't as much as you think."
"I'm doing it anyway."
******
Fifteen quarters, one irritated kid, and a twenty-minute drive later, Eli pulled up in front of the police station. His car, piece of junk that it was, broke down as soon as he stopped. That was probably a sign that he needed a new one. Maybe if he hadn't done the job pro-bono, he could put that money toward a car that was able to drive for more than five miles.
He pulled his coat back to look down at his holstered .45 M1911. Walking into a police station with a gun on his hip was likely not a good idea, even if he had a concealed carry permit. On the other hand, he had the permit for that one, even if the permit was registered to a fake name. Maybe it would be fine. If they saw the unregistered .38 snub on his left hip, though... perhaps he would get in trouble for that one.
He decided to hold on to his weapons. Leaving them in a car that couldn't lock was just asking for trouble. He got out of the car and walked across the street to the station. It was a decently-sized building of brick, with a big, bright 'Police of Haven City' sign on the top. Squad cars lined the street, looking a lot sleeker than he remembered them. He made a special note of the black truck about a block away. Two men sat in the truck, both watching him intently.
Eli walked through the front door and walked up to the counter. The officer behind the desk eyed him up and down and reached for the stack of incident reports.
"Mr. Thorne. Your partner called ahead and said your business needed to speak with Doris. Why are you here?"
"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd come visit. I'm sure Howard will be along shortly." Eli removed his hat, "Any chance I could wait for him downstairs with Doris? I'm having trouble reaching him."
"Fine. But you better make it quick. I don't need a repeat of last month on my head."
"It's really not my fault that she had that vase. What the hell was a vase doing in a police station anyway!?"
"Just go through the damn door. I'll buzz you in."
Eli walked away from the counter, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. He waited at the door to the stairs until he heard the buzz and walked through. Descending down the stairs, a pang of nerves hit him. He never liked being underground, even if it was a basement. Always made him uncomfortable. Maybe that was why he was more on edge the month before.
He rounded the corner into the records. Doris, a woman with glaringly-red hair and leopard-print glasses, sat at her desk, sorting through papers. She had a file sitting to the side with a pink note attached to the top, bearing Howard Malone's name. Eli walked around to the front of her desk and cleared his throat.
"Doris." He tapped his fingers on the file, "Is this for Howard?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I need the information for a case. Missing boy. Eric Bryan."
"Eric... Is that the same 'Eric Bryan' that that woman keeps calling us about?"
"One and the same." Eli started to slide the file from her desk, "I'm just going to take this and go. No need for any unpleasantness."
Doris's hand slammed down on top of the file, "Don't even think about it, Thorne. Howard called for that license plate to be run, and the information is for his eyes only. You better be on your way now or I'm calling upstairs to have them send Officer Brown down here to straighten you out again."
"Ha! Brown is on vacation in Maui this week. He sent a postcard to the office. Shows what you know." Eli chuckled, "Alright, Doris... Just let me take the file."
"I need to hear an apology."
"I'm sorry about the fire."
"You are responsible for more than that."
"A woman cried in front of me this morning because her son is missing. I need this information to find out what happened."
"Fine." Doris moved her hand, "Asshole."
"Obliged."
"And because I thought it was Howard coming to pick up that file, I left a little note in there that you should ignore."
Eli flipped the file open to see a handwritten note. Eli blushed, grabbed the note, and slapped it back down on her desk, "Doris! What would Mister Roberts think!?"
"You're lucky I don't pull your address and give it to Mr. Roberts for what you did last time you were here."
"Aw, I didn't know you cared so much. I gotta say, you seem angrier than that wizard-guy I interrupted in the middle of a ritual."
Doris's eyes got wide.
Eli let out an incredibly awkward, completely and clearly fake laugh that held no joy. Doris laughed uncomfortably and looked down at her desk.
Eli flipped through the file, "This is just one piece of paper with an address."
"That's all there was on the plate."
"Anything about Eric Bryan?"
"I have to keep putting in another file each time that woman calls. I've looked into it before, and there's nothing in our system about that woman having a child. I just can't believe she's so desperate that she hired you. Guess she really has snapped."
"Doris, you're a treasure. Don't ever change."
"Go to hell."
"That's the spirit."
******
Eli closed his car door and threw the file on the passenger seat. He flipped it open to read the address and struggled to get his phone to call Howard. Voicemail. Great. He scrolled up through the 'contacts' list until he reached 'C'. Chase Meyers, his assistant, was just some young kid who needed the income. He wasn't much for investigation, but he had a passion for helping people. It was almost inspirational. He had outright refused to take the job offer until Eli promised him that they weren't going to be following cheating spouses around Haven City snapping pictures. Good kid.
"Chase here."
"Chase, it's Eli. I need you to do that thing you do with computers and get everything you can on an address."
"Sure thing. Text me the address."
"Chase..."
"Oh, right. Read it out to me, then."
"1890 East Providence Drive."
Eli fought with his car as the clicking of a keyboard sounded in his ear. With a small burst of relief, the car rattled to life.
"Chase, I need to put you on speaker. How do I do that?"
"Hit the button that says 'speaker'."
"There's no button."
"On the screen. It's an icon with-"
"Got it." Eli set the phone in his lap and started to drive. He listened to Chase type rapidly as his car pushed forward. He leaned back in his seat as the car rattled along. Maybe a rattling sound wasn't the best sound for an engine to have. It was probably fine, though. He wasn't a mechanic, so he couldn't decide that the car was busted on his own.
That black truck was behind him. It was a distance of about two cars... but it was there. The driver was talking into a phone. Bald man. Sunglasses. Dark skin. The passenger pointed at Eli's car. Brown hair. Pale skin. Bright orange jacket.
"Chase, I've got a tail. Anything you can see before I have to hang up?"
"Yeah... It's an old abandoned factory and... just... It looks like there are a lot of invoices from a "Happy Farms Butcher Shop" to that address. Several shipments of... of meat. I mean, beef, chicken, pork... all that stuff. Whoever lives there, they were really hungry."
"Or 'whatever' lives there." Eli muttered, "What do you mean 'were really hungry'?"
"Well, it looks like the last invoice was from six months ago. Eli, there are some posts online warning about gang activity near that address. Bodies turning up nearby. People missing. Drugs all through that area... but all of that stopped six months ago, too."
Eli felt a cold shock run through his heart, "Thanks, Chase. I'll go check it out."
"It looks like it might be dangerous, Mr. Thorne. Do you want me to call Mr. Marwan?"
"No thanks. I've got this one. Let... Let Sam know where I'm going to be, though. If I don't give you a call by midnight, send him in."
"You got it, Mr. Thorne."
Eli pulled over into a parking lot and fished the map out of his glovebox. He unfolded it and rested it against the steering wheel. East Providence was a thirty-minute drive across town. If his car could survive the trip, it wouldn't even be a problem. He just needed to-
Something tapped on his window.
He looked up to see a man in a bright orange jacket. He was tapping on the window with a gun. Eli was suddenly feeling quite cooperative. The man motioned for Eli to get out of the car, and Eli obliged.
"Boss got a call that you're sticking your nose where it don't belong." The man muttered, "So, we're gonna go someplace nice and quiet and have a little chat."
"Well, I do like nice and quiet places."
Eli eyed the gun in the man's hand as the other one started patting him down.
"You're quite friendly." Eli muttered.
The man felt down Eli's hips, stopped, and pulled back the right side of his coat to reveal the .45 M1911 on his hip. He pulled the gun out of the holster and stuck it in the back of his pants. He patted down Eli's legs and then moved up toward his left hip.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I never cross-draw." Eli chuckled.
The man quietly pulled back the left side of Eli's coat and removed the .38 snub, holding it up for Eli to see.
"Well... except for sometimes." Eli shrugged.
The man grabbed Eli's left arm all the way down, then moved to his right arm, stopping at his forearm.
"What's this?"
Eli raised his left arm and pulled his sleeve down, revealing a leather and steel brace, "I injured my arm a bit ago. The doc said I had to wear this. I don't know why. I'm no doctor."
The man shrugged and pulled a black bag from his pocket. He unfurled it, took Eli's hat, and pulled it over Eli's head.
******
Eli would have complained about the bag over his head, except that it was remarkably thin, and he could see almost everything. That was likely something those two morons were unaware of. He recognized the street signs around him as they went. These guys were taking him in the direction of East Providence Drive. That was convenient. Or quite bad if people really did keep disappearing around there.
The building they approached was an old factory. What it produced, Eli couldn't tell. It looked run down and dirty. The fence had a 'no trespassing' sign that Eli's drivers ignored completely. He could see a small bit of smoke coming from one of the stacks. Perhaps the place wasn't as abandoned as Chase had believed.
Eli was shoved from the truck as both men escorted him toward the door. They stopped before entering, pulling his arms behind his back and securing them with handcuffs. That would be a minor complication.
They pushed him through the door and he stumbled, almost falling to the ground. He caught himself and tried to look around without moving his head as much as possible. Empty metal vats were all around him, lining the walls. The floor was concrete with drains running in the middle. The lights were at that perfect fluorescent flicker that made him mildly nauseous.
He was pushed into a much larger room, one lined with tables manned by people packing bags of what looked like a very illegal substance. There were stairs to his right leading up to the second floor. Four men and two women in that room had guns. A man and one woman stood to the left of the door Eli was quickly approaching. The rest stood near the stairs. The rest of the people were very clearly unarmed. Potential slaves. Potential employees. Hard to tell.
A quiet, terrible, almost musical shriek came from the basement, and everyone shuddered.
They walked him past that room and into a much smaller one, decorated by only a single chair and a series of pipes. He felt a fleeting wonder cross his mind about why bad guy groups always seemed to have rooms like that to bring their kidnap victims.
Eli was shoved down into the chair, his arms looped around the backrest. One of his captors pulled the bag from his head and discarded it on the floor.
Clawing, growling, sloshing noise rose from the drain under Eli's feet.
"Well, if you wanted some alone time with me, you could have just bought me dinner." Eli grumbled, "So... what's this all about?"
"The man we work for got a call-"
"That I'd been snooping, yeah." Eli rolled his eyes, "But... what was I snooping in that bothered him so much?"
The men said nothing, just stood there with their guns drawn and pointed at him. The door behind them opened up and a man walked through. He wore ordinary street clothes, but he looked wrong in every way. His skin looked like a deflated balloon. His bones were shaped at odd angles. Strange markings lined his skin, some tattoos, some healed wounds. His breathing was wet and ragged, though he didn't look to be in pain. His pale skin had splotches of color, as if he had paint all over him.
"You must be Elias Thorne. I've got a source that says you're looking into the disappearance of a kid that doesn't exist."
"Right, yes, and I'm sure that me looking for the Easter Bunny would also piss you off?"
"Easter Bunny..." The ragged man laughed, a shrill, piercing noise, "Elias, I think you've stumbled onto something you don't need to be concerned with."
"You know, part of me was thinking the same thing until your goons threw me into a truck." Eli shrugged, "It took me under a day to find a path that led to this location. I thought for a minute that it would mean dirty cops, but... we both know it's something more... unnatural." Eli sat up and leaned forward as much as he could, "What kind of books do you read, sir?"
The man's eyes narrowed with seething hatred, "Utah, find out what he told the cops and then put two in his head and take him downstairs. I'll be upstairs reading my books. Come get me when it's done."
The man named Utah stepped forward. He was the one who had taken Eli's weapons. That was good. Eli tried his hardest to focus on the positive and ignore the sound of scratching coming from just under his feet.
The boss and the man in the bright orange jacket walked out of the room, leaving Eli alone with Utah. Utah cracked his knuckles and stood over Eli, smiling down at him, "You're gonna tell me everything. We can do this the easy way or hard way."
"Oh, easy way of course!" Eli squirmed over, "I'll tell you exactly what you want to know."
Utah lowered his hands a little, a look of confusion on his face.
"See, when I was about... oh... nineteen or so, I went to Susie Miller's pool party." Eli moved his left arm a little, "Started out as some underage drinking, but then it turned into a game of truth or dare, and you would be surprised where that ended up! I mean, running from the cops on a bicycle at two in the morning in only my long johns and a tiara."
Utah's fist flew out, cracking Eli across the face. Eli spit blood from his mouth and looked up at Utah, retaining his grin.
"What do you think you're talking about?" Utah grumbled, "What did you tell the cops? What did you find!?"
"Asshole! I was getting to that! Eventually." Eli twisted his arm a little more, "See, there were a few things I learned that night." Eli shifted his right arm just a little bit... almost there, "One thing was that you never do truth or dare with Susie Miller's friends. Another was that if the police ask why you were doing something strange and unexplainable, say nothing or risk looking as mad as a hatter." Eli smiled as he got the right position, "The last lesson I got... was how to escape from a pair of handcuffs with a thin blade."
There was a quiet pop and Utah opened his mouth to shout.
Eli jumped up, driving the blade mounted on top of his right forearm into Utah's throat.
"You really should have taken the brace from me." Eli hissed, "You think this is the first time I've been grabbed? I've learned a lot about how to get out of tricky situations. I've got lock picks hidden in my watch, knives hidden across all my clothing... I tell you, I really appreciate the engineering possibilities in this day and age. By the way, I never told the cops anything. You could have let me go about my day, and you'd still be alive in the morning. Any last words?"
A quiet, strained gurgle escaped Utah's lips.
"Well put."
Eli dropped Utah's body and knelt down, picking up his hat and returning it to its rightful position on his head. He grabbed his M1911 and holstered it. After sliding the .38 back into its holster, he picked up Utah's gun. He figured he had about two shots from that before people paid too much attention. Six people in the next room would try to kill him. He could handle that. He'd been in worse situations.
A content, unearthly wail issued from the drain.
Eli looked down to see that Utah's blood was flowing down into the drain. He knew what waited in that basement. He'd seen one before. Rare, deadly, and able to disappear someone in every conceivable way. The perfect pet for a career criminal.
Eli shook the thought from his head. He ejected the magazine from Utah's firearm and pulled the slide back to eject the last bullet. He wouldn't be needing it. He dropped the gun and walked up to the door, drawing his M1911.
Eli thrust his leg into the left door, turning sharply to his right. He fired two shots. One hit the man, one hit the woman. He heard shouts from the people in the room.
He rounded the door and fired two more times, killing two of the armed men before they could react.
The remaining woman lifted her weapon and held the trigger down.
Eli dove behind a support column as bullets rained into the concrete. He'd been on the receiving end of that kind of gun before. Three seconds of continuous fire and it would be empty.
One.
Two.
Three.
The shots stopped.
Eli rouned the column and fired one more shot, dropping the woman.
The man fired back at Eli rapidly, missing each desperate shot.
Eli fired once and didn't miss his target.
Six bullets. His gun held seven, plus the one in the chamber. He was down to two.
He fired both into the air, shouting for the people to run. Not a single one disobeyed.
Eli ejected the magazine and grabbed the one from his coat pocket, sliding it into place and cocking one into the chamber. Seven more bullets. He crossed the room quickly, heading up the stairs. He peeked through the metal door at the top. Two men stood at the end of the hallway with their guns aimed at the door Eli was behind. Eli tapped the glass and waved.
Bullets reduced the window to shards of glass immediately.
Eli bounced up from his hiding place behind the metal door and fired two clean shots.
He pushed the door open and walked down the hallway. Five rounds remained in his gun.
"Mark! Shawn! What's going on out there!?"
Eli ran at the door the two men were guarding and kicked it open.
The ragged man was reaching for a revolver on his desk.
Eli fired one shot, ripping the man's hand in half. The ragged man fell to the floor and crawled quickly into the corner, screaming and crying about his hand.
Eli sized up the room quickly. Redwood paneling, green carpet like a lawyer's office, and a rich mahogany desk with one open book on top. A couple file cabinets, a couple guns here and there. No guards in the room at all.
"Shut up!" Eli lifted the gun to aim at the ragged man's head, "Let me be clear about one thing: I will kill you for kidnapping me. But I need to know what part you played in Eric Bryan's disappearance. I need to know if I'm going to be killing you for that as well. Because I think I know what happened, I just want to hear you say it."
"A-aren't you going to arrest me?"
"I just killed eight people after being kidnapped without calling for backup. Do you really think I'm a cop? Now, tell me about the boy. He disappeared six months ago after you and yours threw him into a van. I want to know what happened."
"I-It was a year ago... th-this thing appeared... when... I was reading that book... speaking the words..." the ragged man pointed at the open book on his desk with his good hand, "And it... it appeared."
Eli walked slowly to the desk, looking down at the book. Strange symbols composed the main body of work. Words and notes in English were scrawled into the margins. Eli had seen these before. Not that book specifically... but books, formulas, and strange objects like it.
"Looks like someone was dabbling in magic." Eli let out a soft chuckle, "Trust me. That's a mistake. Playing with forces you don't understand... it turns you into something. It makes you not what you were. Something less than human that believes it's more than divine. But you summoned something... didn't you? Something hungry."
"It ate... it ate one of my men... His friends... no one remembered him after that creature..." The ragged man whispered, a few tears running down his face, "A-at first... it was satisfied by meat I ordered in... but... it was so desperate to eat... to eat men... I kept reading... The power in that book... a man could become rich with it. It was DeMarcus... he tried to get me to stop... and that... that boy saw it..." The ragged man tried to push himself farther into the corner, "So... we brought... We brought him back here..."
Eli gritted his teeth, "You fed a sixteen-year-old boy to that thing in the basement."
"It was just a matter of convenience... It wasn't... I would never kill a child! I just... I could use that thing... better for business than leaving a body-"
"I'm going to burn this place down with that thing still inside." Eli readjusted his aim, "I'm going to tell that woman that her son was murdered and his body disposed of. And you? You're going to rot in hell for what you've done."
"Not what I've done... what... What that thing did... what that book made me do!"
"But you opened the book."
"Please, man... I don't..." The ragged man looked up at Eli in terror, "Who are you?"
"I'm just a man who doesn't belong here." Eli shrugged, "Nothing more. Nothing less. I've seen things that would make your toes curl. Magic. Wizards. Monsters..." Eli let out a dry chuckle, "Monsters exist. But you know that, don't you? That's what you've got in the basement."
"I didn't know... that book was... I never thought of what it might be... of what it might do... But it told me things... things about the world... things about what lives around us... things hidden in the shadows... things hidden in plain sight..."
"In my life, I've found one great mercy in this world. Most people never put together all of the disparate facts that reveal the reality that we live in. Monsters, magic... They chalk it up to hallucinations and madness. They all live in a small room surrounded by darkness and they are so afraid to ever open the door. They try so hard to explain everything away with science and mental illness. One day, though... that door is going to be flung open. The world will see what waits in the dark, and they will not take kindly to it."
"Please... I have money... two million in the safe there. It's unlocked right now... just take it and let me go..."
"Well, thanks. I'm going to be giving that to the boy's mother, though. Well... most of it. Turns out, I probably need a new car." Eli shook his head, lowering his gun, "Oh, before I forget, who was it that tipped you off about me?"
"I never got a name... I just... He told me where you were... what you were up to... He said he just wanted to borrow my book for a little bit... that he collects them... That you wouldn't approve... that it benefited both of us..."
Eli gritted his teeth. A man who hid books Eli would disapprove of and would benefit in more ways than one if Eli was suddenly not part of his business.
Seemed like Eli would be having a chat with Howard Malone.
Eli raised his gun, "Any last words?"
"I didn't... I didn't harm the boy. It was Utah. He-"
Eli pulled the trigger three times.

Any feedback and whatnot is appreciated!
submitted by MrOmegakid to shortstories [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 17:38 Hemightbegiant 39[m4f] Watch horror movies and cuddle?

I'm in Connecticut. I have a solid job and a car. Like everyone else, my 2020 has sucked pretty hard, but I am still alive so... I am a big dude, but I am working on being less large. I am down 25 lbs from my highest point, and still have a long way to go. Love me some keto diet and I grill a mean New York strip steak.
Looking to make friends right now, that could become something else later. I am currently doing a lot of self improvement work, including therapy.
Huge fan of Weird Al Yankovic and They might be giants. I listen to a wide variety of music. I would love to meet a woman who likes concerts. Going alone is ok, but sharing the experience is so much better!
I can be weird and goofy. That tends to be my default, but I know how to be serious when I need to be.
I tend to quote shows and movies too much...
Intelligent. Sometimes witty. Sometimes corny. I love puns! I have been told I am funny. OG nerd. I like a lot of the "standard" nerd stuff. LOTR, Marvel universe etc. Board games and card games are always a good time. I am constantly seeking to improve myself. Fiercely loyal to those I care about.
Recently divorced (3/17/20 it was official). Ex moved out in June 2020. Living alone for the first time in 11 years.
I am passionate about reptiles (especially snakes) and arachnids. I have both as pets. I don't like needlessly killing things. I relocate insects/spiders and help turtles cross the road. I recently got into keeping Isopods as pets. (Rolly pollies, pill bugs, wood louse...whatever you know them as.) I have 3 frogs as well. I also just adopted a baby bearded dragon who had a rough start and I am trying to nurse him back to health.
I enjoy the occasional concert and still have a few bands I would like to see live, and a few I want to see again. (Assuming that ever happens again.) I listen to various podcasts, including Mbmbam, The Adventure Zone, Serial Killers, Lore, Critical role, and the Practical Stoic.
My sense of humor is one of my strongest attributes.
I have 4 cats. I don't mind dogs, but I am a cat dude.
Hobbies include but not limited to: Leather crafting. Novice woodworking. Learning. I Google a lot, and watch YouTube videos. Fishing, but like...not obsessively. I like to sit by a lake and hope I catch a fish. I enjoy the nature aspect and have seen some cool stuff. Self improvement. Collecting select vinyl. (My favorite bands, especially if it is colored vinyl.) I game on PC sometimes as well, and if you are into that...it would be awesome. (7 days to die, Ark and a few others. I can reinstall World of Warcraft as well.) I also play D&D twice a month, and may start up my own online campaign. Lately I have been watching a lot of astrology/tarot videos and "ghosts caught on tape." I love spooky stuff.
I keep telling myself to just build a tomahawk throwing target, but I haven't yet. Soon...
I like guns, but I am not a gun nut. I have my CCW. You have to be comfortable with that.
Fan of horror movies. It takes a lot to freak me out when it comes to horror movies.
Who am I interested in? The Morticia to my Gomez.
Women, 29-42 age range would be ideal. Closer to Connecticut would be ideal, but there is wiggle room.
Honestly, if you are vegetarian or vegan, we probably won't do well. I eat low carb/keto and that is mostly meat. Just putting that out there.
Someone not afraid of snakes and spiders is a good bonus, as I love both, and that is not changing.
Someone who doesn't see me as a "project". I am my own project, and I don't need another one for that matter. No one can fix you but yourself. I'm done taking in little wounded birdies and trying to fix them. (Figuratively speaking. I may actually take in literal wounded birdies as that is just something I would do. Lol.) I am not going to change things I like or my passions to impress anyone. I am past that shit. Putting on different masks to make different people happy is not a way to live your life. Someone who is okay with me hobby jumping. I like to dabble in hobbies.
I tend to like nerdy, girl-next-door types. Awkward geeky ladies who like video games and board/table top games. Intelligence is a turn on. Someone who will wax philosophically with me about life, the universe and everything.
I actually have a house lined up where I will be able to do this, I just need to wait a bit before I can take it. (The current owner is working on getting a mortgage and needs to find a new house. It is not concrete though, just the current plan. It could change.)
Someone who likes fishing would be nice. (And baits their own hook.) Or would like to hang out with me while I fish.
A fellow animal lover, as I tend to adopt unwanted animals often...and I am a sucker for them. Someone who realizes there is more to life than paying bills and dying.
I have the idea of homesteading in the back of my mind, but I am not even sure where to begin.
There is a good chance I am not having my own kids, as I had a vasectomy in early 2020 (I was convinced children weren't in the cards for me, and then the divorce happened.) However, I am not against having it reversed in the right situation, adopting/fostering, or dating someone with young children. I am great with kids. I'd be one hell of a dad. I have a nephew who I love to death and my best friends kids call me "Uncle Luke".
https://imgur.com/a/scHdMMC
Please include a pic if you message. I like putting a face to a conversation.
Trump supporters need not apply, and if you are under 18...don't bother. I can promise you we have nothing to talk about. Honestly my minimum cut off would be 25...
submitted by Hemightbegiant to r4r [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 22:05 ChadThundagaCock Theres nothing wrong with hitting on women at their jobs during a pandemic.

People here have said to leave women alonw at work. But I beg to differ. It's a pandemic. How else are single men supposed to meet women nowadays? Online dating is a shitshow.
There are a few baristas I like. Hard to tell if they're actually interested in me or just friendly because it's their job. But that's the game you play. It's a dice roll. Either shit or get off the pot.
You could be the 3000th man to hit on her that day, especially if she is in the sevice industry. But those men only auditioned to get the role of banging her. If you don't audition, you'll never know. Just be the best audition she's watched all day.
Nobody leaves their houses anymore. Bars suck now. Tinder has always sucked. Hired guns are the best bet now. I don't see any other options. And if gyms open up, women working/working out there are fair game now too.
You may not like it, but I don't really care.
submitted by ChadThundagaCock to PurplePillDebate [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 16:00 Angel466 [Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 0193

PART ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-THREE
Friday
War Commander.
The curt voice of Johansen knocked on Angus’ mind with all the subtlety one would expect of an older pryde fighter. Angus immediately straightened off the car doors on to the sidewalk. Report, he shot back. If it were critically urgent, Johansen wouldn’t be waiting for Angus’ permission, which meant it was important, but not serious. Yet.
Mica’s view of the situation between Sam and his little floozy is gaining credence.
Everyone even loosely connected to this assignment had heard at least some of Mica’s opinions about Geraldine Portsmith (mainly because Mica was a fighter, and they weren’t trained to spare people’s feelings), and although Angus hadn’t dismissed her claims out of hand, for a fighter like Johansen to start adding his concerns, the problem was being fast-tracked.
Her older brother has a history of crushing women with low confidence.
And they don’t come much lower than Sam’s. Thankfully, Mica’s shift with Sam ended soon after they’d arrived at the tattoo parlour, which meant Kulon was with him now.
Kulon, he sent.
Yes, War Commander?
Observe the actions of Sam’s girlfriend and be on the lookout for any signs of passive/aggressive dominance that will erode Sam’s budding confidence. Those actions are to be … discouraged.
Permanently?
Angus took a moment to consider that. Whilst his first instinct was a resounding yes to anything that could be seen as a threat to either the pryde or his assignment, the memory of the last time he followed his gut when dealing with humans still weighed heavily on him.
Equivalent retribution, he sent. If she stings his pride, you sting her. If the damage to his pride lasts a week, select a poison that will linger accordingly. But keep it explainable. Avoid anything exotic that doesn’t exist locally. Mosquitos, bees, wasps…
Black mamba?
No.
Indian red scorpion? Australian funnel-web spider?
Angus looked up at the sky for patience. He may have put young fighters on Sam to keep them roughly within the boy's age bracket, but the downside was … he’d put young fighters on Sam. Older ones wouldn’t try to be funny like this. No. Consider the ramifications of your next suggestion carefully.
Yes, sir.
He still didn't regret the debacle at the sex club. Using Uttu webbing on the humans to silence them may have been the obvious choice for its durability and flexibility, but it was also a dead giveaway for pryde involvement. On the front lines, making a statement like that was the preferred way to go as it prevented the need for any future explanation.
On Earth, he needed to be more … devious.
Lesson learned. He could do that.
His phone pulsed in his breast pocket and he answered it by tapping the earpiece he was wearing. “Angus.”
“Angus, it’s Llyr.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This isn’t a ‘sir’ situation, War Commander.”
Having already deduced that, Angus remained silent, waiting for him to explain himself.
He wasn’t kept waiting long.
“I don’t trust Sam’s judgement where this new girl is concerned, but I don’t want to undermine his confidence by having him formally chaperoned. Nor am I interested in bringing Cuschler’s people in on this either as their solution as soon as our concerns are justified would be to have their entire family die in a gas leak that’ll wipe out the rest of the building.”
“And why would that outcome concern you?”
“It won't be something I can keep from Sam for long, and eventually he’ll learn their deaths were his fault. In his fragile state, it’ll destroy him.”
Ahh. Of course. Not the deaths themselves, but how those murders would affect Sam. “Most likely,” he agreed, thinking about the boy's generous nature.
“Do you have anyone that you would trust to follow him discreetly on my behalf?”
“If I did, are you offering me a boon in exchange for my assistance in this matter?” Knowing Llyr couldn't see him, Angus' eyebrows shot up sharply as he said this anyway. Favours from the divine weren’t the same as human ones. They were binding. Compelling. Those involved in the contract had no choice but to uphold their sides of the bargain once one was struck.
The seconds of silence from Llyr spoke volumes. Angus had expected him to refuse as soon as it was suggested on principle.
“What’s your price?” Llyr finally asked.
“To be named at a later date.” An unspecified boon was the worst favour of all, as that locked someone into an agreement where only one side of the cost was stated upfront. The other half could literally be anything, however disproportionate, which was why no one entered unspecified boons unless they were really desperate.
More silence, which was even more surprising. Surely he doesn’t consider this worthy of a…
“If you place a pryde security detail on Sam until such time as I deem it is no longer necessary, protecting him from all manner of harm, I, Llyr, God of Mystal’s Oceans, shall owe War Commander Angus an unspecified boon to be named and claimed at a future date.”
Wow. Did NOT see that coming. Llyr had literally just put his neck on the line for Sam. All Angus had to do was say the words “I accept your unspecified boon” and the deal would be sealed between two divine beings.
“Just get it over with, will you?” Llyr growled as Angus took a moment to reflect on this.
There was no way Angus would’ve done this for his own hatchlings, or anyone else. (Well, he would for the Eechee and Eechen, but they already had that level of commitment from him.) As a War Commander, he simply couldn’t afford to. The border relied on him, and all it would take would be someone to order him to sabotage his position, and he’d have no choice but to obey his new master to fulfil his side of their bargain.
“No,” Angus said, negating the offered agreement. “I will put the pryde on Sam until I deem they are no longer necessary. His safety will be seen to until such time as I contact you, to let you know they're being pulled back. There will be no outstanding debt from your side.”
A moment of shocked silence was followed by a flabbergasted shout of, “Then why the hell did you just put me through that?!”
“To see if you would.”
“Fuck, you’re a realm-damned fucking asshole!” The phone was abruptly disconnected, causing Angus to chuckle darkly.
The offer to sting the cheeky blighter is still on the table, sir, Johansen sent, hearing the conversation from Llyr’s side.
No need, Angus replied, still smirking to himself. His pride is smarting enough already. If anything, Llyr’s willingness to sacrifice an unspecified boon for Sam like that moved him a few slots higher in Angus’ eyes. He’d never seen the old blood put himself out for anyone before. Ever. He knew the Mystallians closed ranks when it came to the crunch. He’d seen plenty of examples of it his whole life. If any of Llyr’s family had asked something of him, chances were, he’d be right there, bringing his mastery of the ocean to bear if it was deemed necessary.
But this was the first time Angus had ever seen the Oceanlord supplicate, and it wasn't for self-gain.
* * *
After Thomas dropped Miss Geraldine home, he rang Mr Portsmith directly.
“Yes?” Like all Portsmiths, Tucker Portsmith didn’t waste words on employees.
“Sir, I need to speak with you in person and Miss Geraldine has her concert to go to this evening. Is there any chance Donald and I could switch places while I come and see you?” The fact that he was bothering the boss at all made the line of, ‘it’s really important’ redundant. Donald was Mr Portsmith’s personal chauffeur, and just like his position, the placement doubled as an armed bodyguard for their charge.
“Be here in fifteen minutes.”
As Thomas pulled out into traffic, he dialled Miss Geraldine’s number and waited for her to pick up.
“What?” the youngest of the Portsmith family demanded.
“Ma’am, I am to switch places temporarily with Donald. He will be here in fifteen minutes to drive you to Mr Arnav’s home.”
“So long as someone can drive me, I don’t care which of you it is.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
He waited for her to hang up on him. The one time he'd made the mistake of hanging up first, he’d had to work three days without pay to keep his job. Thomas had worked for some hard taskmasters over the years, but the Portsmiths were definitely in the top few for challenging. Fortunately, they were also one of the better-paying jobs.
He knew from the GPS when Donald passed him at the top end of Eleventh Avenue, though in five o’clock traffic on a Friday afternoon, the odds of catching sight of him were slim.
He pulled up in the vacant CEO’s car park and climbed out, locking the doors on his way. The whole way over, he was working out the best way to approach his thoughts. In the end, he decided to just come out and say it.
“What is it, Thomas?” Mr Portsmith demanded, still pouring over multiple computer screens that were built directly into his desk.
“Sir, I have gone toe to toe with almost every branch of the world’s special forces and held my own with considerable ease.”
Mr Portsmith frowned. “Your point?”
This was the part that his boss could take two ways. “I caught a couple discreetly spying on Miss Geraldine and Sam Arnav, and when I bounced them, it turns out they were Sam’s driver and one of that driver's subordinates. The subordinate had me on my back seeing stars in seconds, and Sam’s driver looked on like he expected nothing less. I have never, in my life, seen anyone move that fast. They were something else again, sir.”
“And you thought you needed to see me in person to have this discussion?”
Thomas nodded. “I would not have been able to convey the sincerity of my assessment of them over the phone, sir. You pay substantially to have the best, and she put me down for almost an hour with one strike that was over before it began. I have worked for warlords in war-ravaged countries and I have never seen anyone move that fast, sir. She turned back to Sam’s driver seeking out her next set of orders before I’d even fallen over.”
“Did they say anything else?”
“Yes, sir. Once the subordinate left, Sam’s driver took my gun and told me if Sam ever saw it, he’d kill me and leave my body where no one would find it. When I didn’t answer quickly enough to answer him, he struck me with it, sir. He knew exactly what he was doing with that weapon.”
“It would seem the Arnavs have better bodyguards than I,” Mr Portsmith said over a double-fist which he braced in front of his chin by planting his elbows into the table.
“Sir, I recognise every special forces company in the world by their unique moves and I have had extensive training in undermining all of them. Certain ways they hold their bodies or the way they fight. I. Have. Never. Seen. Anyone. Move the way this woman did. It was like grabbing the body of a snake and being dead before you realise it wasn’t a stick after all.”
“You do realise you’re talking yourself out of a job here.”
“I know, sir. But I still thought you should know the Arnavs have their own muscle that is over and above the norm.”
"So you keep saying, Thomas.”
"Sir, I would strongly recommend digging into the Arnav background. The level of capability their driver's subordinate showed is not someone who chauffeurs a twenty-year-old to school."
* * *

PART ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-FOUR

Previous Part 192
((All comments welcome))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work including previous parts or WPs: Angel466 or indexed here
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!
submitted by Angel466 to redditserials [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 10:16 CrofterNo2 "The Beast With the Breath of Hell": Giant Ground Sloths in the Amazon

Six families of prehistoric ground sloths are now recognised: Megatheriidae, Mylodontidae, Nothrotheriidae, Megalonychidae, Scelidotheriidae, and the Carribean Megalocnidae. First discovered at the end of the 18th Century, much is known of the appearance and lifestyle of many species. Generally they were very robust, vaguely bear-like animals with wide tails, strong claws, and the ability to walk quadrupedally and bipedally. But they were highly adaptable: by the end of the Pleistocene, several dozen species existed in South America, including the largest ever, and their Pleistocene range stretched from Tierra del Fuego to Alaska. Throughout the ages, some browsed, some grazed, some swam in coastal seas or freshwater, some burrowed, and some lived in trees or on steep cliffs. Some families spread to North America before the Great American Interchange, and when animals from the north invaded, they were unaffected—until one last animal moved south some ~12,000 years ago.
Given their adaptability, is it possible that at least one species may have survived into modern times? Since their discovery, many people have believed so. But where's the best place to look for them? For most of the 20th Century, the answer to that was Patagonia, thanks to sightings reported mainly by the Argentine palaeontologist Florentino Ameghino. But in On the Track of Unknown Animals (1955), Bernard Heuvelmans suggested that the tropical forests of the Amazon and the Andes, not Patagonia, were the place. Noting that the ground sloths were likely wiped out (?) by overhunting, he asked...
[...] what has happened to them in their impenetrable retreat in the vast Amazonian selva and the boscosa of the Andes, through which they passed in the course of ages? It is hard to see what, in the peace of these forests rarely inhabited by man, could have led to their extinction. Only human traps were able to put an end to these armoured brutes against which beasts of prey were powerless. Might they not still live in this 'green hell' and find it a heaven of peace?
But Heuvelmans attributed most stories of hairy humanoids in the Amazon to primates, and it would be 38 years before his question was seriously considered in print.
Mapinguari, stinking beast of the Amazon
American ornithologist David Oren arrived in the Brazilian Amazon in 1977, and immediately began to hear stories of various forest myths. One of the most common of these was the mapinguari, which had been covered by Heuvelmans and by Ivan T. Sanderson, and which they had believed to be a giant primate. To Oren the mapinguari initially appeared to be just another part of the folklore of the rainforest: for every person who claimed to have seen it, four mocked the idea that it could be real, as did the alleged eyewitnesses prior to their own experiences.
The mapinguari was a creature of the seringueiros, or rubber-tappers, but even during the silver age of the rubber plantation it was not taken seriously by others. The modern folkloric-pop cultural version is a huge cyclops with a mouth in its stomach, and is not too different to the very earliest descriptions (the earliest use of the term I can find dates to 1896, where it's called an evil Tupi spirit). But a 1913 newspaper article on the subject also mentions the macaco de borracha, or rubber monkey of Acre, an animal covered in long and tangled hair which repels bullets. The macaco de borracha was the size of a Newfoundland dog when on all fours, but was taller than a man when standing upright on its hind feet. And in 1960, a cabloco took issue with a newspaper repeating the traditional description of a giant man, claiming that the mapinguari was really a sort of huge and horrifying horse-like animal. He said that such an animal had recently been seen by men working on "the road which will link Acre to Brasilia". Nevertheless, when cattle were found dead with their tongues missing, the mapinguari was often blamed; this and a 1930 sighting of a monkey-like mapinguari on the Urubu River, reported in On the Track of Unknown Animals, cemented the mapinguari as the Brazilian Bigfoot.
By the time of David Oren's arrival, rubber had given way to gold, and many of the first mapinguari reports he heard came from gold prospectors and mine employees. The fact that there were reliable modern accounts of such an animal was first brought to his notice by historian David Gueiros Vieira, who had collected several sightings from gold miners while he was in charge of Serra Pelada in Pará. During his discussions with Vieira in 1988, Oren heard a first-hand mapinguari sighting from northern Tocantins which, he has often said in interviews, made a light go off in his head: "this creature could only be a ground sloth!" He has subsequently collected around 100 first-hand sightings which he believes describe the same animal (even the published sightings are too numerous to detail here), from the states of Amazonas, Acre, Mato Grosso, Pará, Amapá, Rondônia, and Tocantins, and as of 2001, he had also interviewed seven hunters who claimed to have killed specimens.
Based on the hunters' descriptions, the mapinguari is a very heavy, powerfully-built animal, up to two metres (6'6'') tall when standing bipedally, and weighing enough to break the roots of trees with its steps. It is covered in long and coarse fur which ranges in colour from reddish to brownish to blackish, sometimes said to be longer, mane-like, on the neck and back; and has a muzzle similar to that of a horse or a burro, though shorter, which is armed with four peg-shaped canine teeth. Its formidable claws are shaped like those of the giant anteater (Myrmecophaga tridactyla), but are the size of those of the giant armadillo (Priodontes maximus), that is, between 7'' and 8''. It is said to be nocturnal and crepuscular (i.e. active at night and twilight), and feeds on vegetation including bacaba palms (Oenocarpus bacaba), which it twists to the ground and tears apart in order to feed on the palm heart and berry-like fruits.
Two distinct types of vocalisations were described to Oren. The first is a low call reminiscent of thunder, while the other is a very loud and impressive, higher-pitched cry "just like a human shouting," but with a growl at the end. When shot, it produces an "extraordinarily loud, human-like scream." A very strong and unpleasant smell is frequently described, compared to a mixture of faeces and rotting flesh; garlic vine (Mansoa alliacea) and a foetid peccary; or simply described as "just the worst odor they ever smelled." The smell leaves people light-headed and nauseous, or even renders them unconscious. A foul odour is a common feature of mythical South American monsters, but in this case it is clearly a genuine characteristic of the animal.
Another folkloric trait which also occurs in sightings is the mapinguari's nigh-invulnerability to bullets and arrows, unless hit in the navel, the eye(s), the mouth, or sometimes elsewhere on the head. Hunters who claim to have shot specimens say they used special solid lead shotgun slugs fired at the head; a special shot used for hunting tapirs fired at the navel from a .16 calibre shotgun; and all the bullets of a .38 caliber revolver, emptied into the chest.
According to Oren, two kinds of tracks are attributed to the mapinguari. The first, and most common, are as "round as a pestle" (like those attributed to the folkloric pé de garrafa) and are found in the ground around vegetation and faeces even during the dry season, when the earth is baked hard. The second tracks are "like people's, but backwards," with only four toes. The mapinguari's faeces were always described to Oren as "just like horses," and are said to contain poorly-broken down, recognisable plant matter such as leaves and stems. Of all the Amazonian mammals, only the South American tapir (Tapirus terrestris) produces similarly horse-like faeces, but this animal usually defecates in water, whereas supposed mapinguari dung is found on land.
One important sighting was made by a gold prospector who told Oren that a reddish "giant monkey" had charged at him in the forest, and that he only had time to shoot the animal in the face before fainting. When Oren investigated the area, he found a pool of blood and "round paw-prints with marks of clawed toes pointing inwards". This was no monkey, giant or otherwise, but the fact that this clawed animal, whatever it is, has been called a monkey should be kept in mind.
Given the amount of sightings, and killings, on record, why has no proof of the mapinguari's existence come to hand? Besides its rarity, its jungle habitat, and the terror in which it is held, the problems of preserving bits of a mapinguari are best illustrated by the following incident: a seringueiro hunting in the woods, startled by a human-like shouting behind him, swung 'round to see an angry-looking, hulking animal standing on its hind legs. Though he shot and killed it, the smell permeating the area was so stupefying that the hunter wandered aimlessly for some hours before coming to. Then he cut off the animal's front paw to show his brother, but this also smelled so badly that he threw it away into the forest. A more conservation-friendly spin on this occurred in the '80s, when some Kanamarí Indians living in the Rio Juruá valley allegedly raised two baby mapinguaris whose mother had been scared off or killed by hunters. The Kanamarí fed them on bananas and milk before they progressed to foliage, but after a couple of years the smell became too much to bear, and the Kanamarí released them. The story is not unique—three hunters claimed to have captured living mapinguaris, but all three animals escaped because their captors were unable to bear the stench.
Oren himself led several expeditions in search of the mapinguari, but all the evidence he collected was inconclusive, or identified as something else. Four times on two separate occasions, in the afternoon and early night, Oren heard (and recorded, according to some sources) a mapinguari-like call, described by himself as being extremely strong and of steady pitch, lasting for up to forty-five seconds, and resembling "jets flying over low." He also made a cast, about an 1'' deep, which shows a knuckle-walking track with three digits; and photographed "claw marks on a tree, eight of them about a foot long and an inch deep," which may have been made by a mapinguari. However, results of testing of alleged mapinguari dung were inconclusive, and in one case some fecal matter collected by Oren was identified as giant anteater or tapir dung. Conversely, and dubiously, geneticist John Lewis claimed to have extracted ground sloth DNA from alleged mapinguari faeces which he stepped in during a 2001 expedition to Brazil.
Although Oren writes that the well-known single eye and stomach-mouth appear predominately in legend and popular culture, not usually in first-hand sightings, unfortunately the latest recorded sighting, a dubious one from 2014, does indeed describe a cyclopean monster. The latest known incident of any kind came in 2016, when residents of Gleba Vila Amazônia claimed to have discovered large mapinguari footprints near the road from Vila Amazônia to Cabeceira do Inferno, on the banks of Lake Zé Açú. Other residents believed the tracks were made by a giant monkey.
Another beast which Oren synonymises with the mapinguari is the juma, a 10' tall hairy humanoid seen near Valéria (where a mapinguari was reported in 1981) in the '90s. According to Oren, almost every Amazonian Indian language has a name for what we call the mapinguari, but only a few of these names have filtered through. These regional mapinguaris of Rondônia, the Andes, and the northern Amazon will be discussed in the following sections.
The Rondônian mapinguari
More gold prospectors were said to have killed a mapinguari in Rondônia, about two days by foot from Porto Velho. This must have been very close to the Karitiana reservation, which is centred on the village of Kyõwã. The Karitiana version of the mapinguari is called the kida harara or kida so'emo, but is often synonymised with the mapinguari, including by most of the Karitiana. They believe that it lives southwest of Kyõwã, in the Floresta Nacional do Bom Futuro, where it inhabits the "Cave of the Mapinguari," which is also home to enormous vampire bats. Interestingly, one of their alternate names for the animal is o'i ty, meaning "giant sloth". But is this term their own invention, or was it introduced by visiting cryptozoologists? After all, the kida harara has been investigated by cryptozoologists for some time. The first appears to have been Hilton Pereira da Silva, whose research was televised in a '90s episode of Into the Unknown. While he found nothing in the Cave of the Mapinguari, he was told that a hunter named Valdemiro had seen the animal by the cave. Valdemiro had been startled by a "terrifying cry" when the animal emerged, balancing on the sides of its feet and holding its claws inwards.
The kida harara's description may have been 'polluted' by descriptions from people who don't claim to have seen it, but, generally, it is said to be a large creature, with a big head just like a sloth's, but with long teeth; huge arms armed with hook-shaped claws; big ugly feet; and red or black hair all over except (sometimes) for the chest and face, which are covered in smooth skin. All accounts describe it as noxious-smelling and extremely noisy and destructive, screaming and groaning, smashing trees and leaving tractor-like trails, and its bulletproof hide is attested by several first-hand experiences. Interestingly, its invulnerability is attributed to lots of little pebbles beneath its skin, a very appropriate description of a mylodontid's osteoderms. Nocturnal, it is said to sleep standing upright, and shuffles its feet as it walks through the woods, making the earth shake. It tears apart babassu palms, which it likes to eat, and also fells other trees... but it isn't a harmless herbivore, since it's reputed to "bear-hug" people to death like an anteater, or even to tear off their arms and legs.
As with the mapinguari itself, there are too many sightings to detail, although as of 2006 the kida harara was frequently heard in the forest, during the night. Sometimes it was briefly mistaken for a giant anteater, sometimes it was seen in streams, and on one occasion it caused the evacuation of Kyõwã when it wandered into the village. Several other sightings are recounted in Destination Truth ("Sloth Monster") and Beast Man ("Nightmare of the Amazon"). Both of these investigations also recorded ambiguous evidence — Josh Gates recorded a very quiet, but apparently unidentifiable call, and heard a palm being torn down nearby; while Pat Spain believed he heard a response to his blasted mapinguari call, which may or may not have been picked up by the microphones.
But the most famous sighting of the kida harara was the one reported by Geovaldo, a Karitiana hunter who claimed to have been approached and knocked out while stalking peccaries, sometime around 2004. His story was confirmed by his father Lucas, who said that when his son took him back to the site of the encounter, he saw a pathway where the creature had departed through the bush, "as if a boulder had rolled through and knocked down all the trees and vines". However, perhaps due to either translation issues or gradual exaggeration, different versions of this story have been given. Interviewed for Destination Truth, Geovaldo said that he shot at the animal, and ran off when it charged at him. On Beast Man, he claimed to have fired at it multiple times before loading his gun with a lead slug, and firing at the animals face, making it stop and scream in pain, and allowing Geovaldo to escape.
Beast Man's Pat Spain interviews Geovaldo using an "animal identity parade" of photographs, and included among native and non-native animals is a photograph of Rusty the Megalonyx. Geovaldo unhesitatingly nods and identifies it as very like what he had seen, stating that "it was kind of like that. I think that was the animal. I really think that looks like it. Its arms were just like that." One difference he notes is that the claws on what he saw were similar, but even larger—other than that, it has the same body, the same arms, and the same face. It's a powerful scene, and the moment that sparked my personal interest in the mapinguari. But of course, Geovaldo's reaction doesn't mean the kida harara really was a Megalonyx, or even a ground sloth at all, only that it looked like that particular concept of Megalonyx. The really useful thing is knowing what Geovaldo definitely didn't see—it wasn't an anteater, elephant, rhinoceros, spectacled bear (no reaction from Geovaldo), or gorilla ("some sort of monkey?"). Regardless of whether or not you believe his story, spectacled bears and apes are alien to this Karitiana hunter.
Sloths in the Andes
In Acre, near the Peruvian border, Oren was told that the mapinguari is migratory, descending from the Andean foothills around February. It's sometimes thought that it moves into the Andes to avoid the flooding of the rainy season. Whatever the case, some of the best and earliest-published reports of ground sloths come from the forested eastern slopes of the Andes.
While doing field work in Macas, Ecuador, in the 1990s, cryptozoologist Angel Morant Forés was told by local Shuar people of a bear-like animal, the ujea, which reminded him of a ground sloth, but he couldn't find anyone who claimed to have seen a ujea for themselves. This creature inhabits an obscure border region between cryptozoology and folklore—sometimes considered a demon, sometimes a long-vanished monster, it has been described as a huge and man-eating ape-like beast. But the most interesting description was given by a Shuar to this traveller, who also received a drawing of the ujea.
The ujea is a weird mix between a bear and a human. Apparently the Shuar used to hunt these. As you can see in the picture the stench was enough to knock a grown man unconscious. These aren't dangerous to humans as they eat the nectar of flowers.
The foul smell, an obvious point of similarity with the mapinguari, is not unique to the ujea among Shuar monsters. But the drawing does depict it as rather sloth-like, with shaggy red hair on its head and back, a long tongue, and strongly hooked claws. However, note that it's said that "the Shuar used to hunt these"—used to. Why stop, unless the animal has vanished?
On the other hand, was the ujea the same animal that a huaquero from Quito claimed to have seen in the subtropical cloud forests of the Ecuadorean Andes in the 1980s? According to the account he gave to cryptozoologist J. Richard Greenwell, he saw a large and unfamiliar quadruped, about 10' long, covered in shaggy hair, and sporting a large horse's snout, emerge from a forest cave. As it was coming towards him, the terrified huaquero prayed to the Virgin for help, but the animal simply reared up onto its hind legs and began to browse on the surrounding vegetation. Greenwell believed the man's story, judging him capable of properly evaluating an animal's size and appearance from some distance. In fact, his life habitually depended on this skill—his other job was that of a bullfighter!
A lot of people will be familiar with the idea of mapinguaris in Peru because of Forrest Galante's claims about a "Mapinguari Valley," but the only known aboriginal Peruvian name for the animal is the Machiguenga segamai of the Vilcabamba Mountains. This is described as a cow-sized animal which can walk both quarupedally and bipedally, with dark matted fur (specifically said to resemble the fibers surrounding the leaf stems of an Oenocarpus bataua palm) and a snout similar to a giant anteater's. It's said to live in caves in the remote cloud and foothill forests, where it feeds on Cyclanthaceae plants and palm piths. The Machiguenga are terrified of it due to its reputedly aggressive behaviour, and it has a number of characteristics in common with the mapinguari: it is said to be impervious to bullets, has a terrible roar, and supposedly generates an odour or field which stupefies or knocks out anyone who comes close to it. Interviewed on Beast Man, anthropologist Glenn Shepard Jr. added that that the Machiguenga reported seeing large claw marks, which they believed had been made by the segamai, on trees.
A sighting made from a distance was reported to have occurred in around 1976, and as of 2001, the Machiguenga insisted that the segamai still lived in certain areas of the forest, where they saw it as just another wild animal. Shepard suggested to them that it might be a bear: the Machiguenga, who knew spectacled bears well, "expressed great surprise and affirmed that the two animals are completely different". One of the tribe matter-of-factly told him that he had seen a segamai at Lima's Natural History Museum when he was a student, and when Shepard checked, he discovered that the museum had a diorama featuring a model of a giant ground sloth. But there's a disconcerting sequel to this story: the student had never seen the segamai himself, and had previously assumed it to be mythical. So despite the belief that the segamai still lived in the forest, the younger generations of 2001 did not believe in it, showing that it had become very rare... or worse.
Also from Peru, we have a very dramatic story collected by Hermes Mendoza Del Aguila, which tells of a very mapinguari-like "giant sloth" termed "engendro verde" being killed by soldiers. The story is presumably only a folk tale, but it demonstrates that the mapinguari archetype is familiar in the Peruvian Amazon.
Luis Jorge Salinas has collected a 1985 sighting from Bolivia, near Iñapari on the Bolivia-Brazil-Peru border, and Bolivia is in fact home to its own supposed version of the mapinguari: the bipedal jucucu, a name immediately reminiscent of jukumari, ucumari, and ukuku, terms applied to the spectacled bear in Bolivia and Peru. But is this because the jucucu is a bear, or just because a bear is the closest thing the locals know of? Casey Anderson investigates the jucucu on Monster Encounters, and while I haven't been able to watch the episode, or find anyone who has, some details are provided in the episode's dramatic trailer. Anderson's probably right about undiscovered 'monsters' prowling the Amazon, but taking the illustration, the livestock-killing, and the brief glimpse of a bear at face value does reinforce a bear identity for the jucucu itself, despite the massive size and the foul smell (a possible conflation with the mapinguari on the part of the Travel Channel?). And what are we to make of this reference from Simon Chapman's The Monster of the Madidi (2001), describing an animal which was not a spectacled bear, but was far too large for a monkey?
With the Mono Rey, I'm not so sure. But, I was told there are two sorts. One is black and a bit smaller than me. The other has brown hair and is two and a half metres tall. Now that is not the Ucumari I saw. All that selva — the Beu, the Chepite, the Madidi. No one has been to most of it. Anything could be there.
Sloths north of the Amazon
While the best evidence comes from regions south of the Amazon River, the mapinguari has also been reported from the tropical rainforest in the north. In fact, some of Oren's accounts, all of them old sightings from elderly woodsmen, come from Amapá in northeastern Brazil, bordering French Guiana. Although many published sightings from immediately north of the river are undetailed or more reminiscent of primates, one atypical sighting was that of Luis Jorge Salinas, who went on to become a prominent investigator of the mapinguari and similar cryptids.
According to his book Amazonas: ¿Pleistoceno Park? Un Testimonio Real (2010), Salinas first encountered a mapinguari while working on a roadside farm 38 kilometers from Manaus when he was 24 years old, between May 1985 and May 1986. At that time, he and the farm's other inhabitants were troubled by a frequent nighttime howling, "impressive, mournful, and frightening," which some locals believed were made by a lobisomem or "paçalobo," superwolf. Salinas shot a young one of these animals in the face when it approached the farm one night, driving it into the forest and perhaps killing it. Later on during the same night, Salinas claims to have observed a much larger individual of the same species standing where the shooting had occurred, roaring. Some time later, Salinas observed a group of individuals composed of a male, several females, and a young calf, moving down the road, apparently keeping in order by toad-like vocalisations and head bobbing. They entered a mango plantation to feed on the trees, the females feeding the calf by cutting up small pieces of food in her mouth. The herd disappeared into the trees after being disturbed by a group of passing people from another local farm, but Salinas claimed to have seen them again on two other occasions not long afterwards. Salinas has rejected the idea that these animals were bears, and according to him, they most closely resembled this reconstruction of Megalonyx wheatleyi. He described a few unique features, such as humped backs, "tortoise-like" necks, and bare chests and abdomens; and he compared their unsteady gaits to Charlie Chaplin's famous waddle.
Richard Terry of Man v. Monster collected accounts from near the Venezuelan border, the region from which Jaroslav Mareš heard of the more monkey-like version, which travels in pairs. And explorer-cryptozoologist Arnošt Vašíček reports that "nomadic Indians" of the Orinoco Basin claim to have seen a sloth alleged to be a whopping 16' long, which uses its great claws to pull down branches and dig up roots.
Furthermore, the animal seems to be known to Venezuela's most famous people, the Yanomami. While visiting a Yanomami village in southern Venezuela, Gustavo Sánchez Romero produced a set of animal flashcards, which some of village's boys and women began to identify. Alongside normal animals, Sánchez Romero had included a card showing a ground sloth, and, although most failed to recognise it, four people exclaimed at once: "owhuama!" The owhuama, they explained with minimal prompting, is a sturdily-built, hairy animal with strong-clawed arms powerful enough to tear down trees and toss jaguars into the air. A ground-dwelling herbivore, it walks both quadrupedally and bipedally, and generally leaves backwards-facing tracks. It lives in deep, cool caves, and communicates by howling and lowing. Though rare, it can be dangerous when it attacks in self-defense, so the Yanomami have a great respect for it.
This amazing cryptozoological dissertation ends with a finger pointed south; that is, to Brazil. The owhuama preferentially lives over there, just on the opposite side of the elaborate, circular Yanomami hut. The impenetrable jungle and the endless forested backwaters hide the identity of a creature from another time.
What is it?
Kenneth Campbell and Brad Rancy theorised that the mapinguari could be explained by spectacled bears seasonally coming down from the cold mountains during the winter, into Brazil's warmer climate, and these bears are quite monstrous-looking when they stand upright. However, as we have seen, every time this identity has been put to someone familiar with the mapinguari, it has been flatly rejected, and probably with good reason. As far as I can tell, spectacled bears have never been explicitly reported (either officially or unofficially) from further northeast than Peru's Madre de Dios region. Why has nobody in Brazil ever recognised these supposed migratory bears as bears? Furthermore, the spectacled bear's behaviour is not a good match. They are generally shy, attacking only when they or their young are threatened, and they're famously arboreal. The mapinguari is usually aggressive, surely too bulky to climb, and browses by tearing down trees, which would be a waste of time if it were arboreal. To explain Brazilian mapinguari sightings with spectacled bears requires us to accept that unusually large specimens of these bears seasonally migrate into, or already exist in, the Amazon, yet never behave anything like normal members of their species, and have never been identified as what they are by the 100 or so people who've seen them. Going down the bear route, some unknown species, or perhaps even a surviving Arctotherium, seems more likely than a spectacled bear. And this might be explaining one unknown with another, but cryptid bears have been reported from the Amazon and the Andes: the gigantic milne of the Ucayali, the red-furred bear of the Muscarena Mountains, and the pygmy brown bear of Yanachaga-Chemillén.
The early cryptozoologists saw the mapinguari as a giant primate, possibly a howler monkey, as suggested by Dale A. Drinnon. There is no precedence for a giant Amazonian monkey in the fossil record (with all the Pleistocene giant monkeys coming from the Atlantic Forest), but, as will be seen below, this means little. But although some mapinguari sightings might refer to monkeys, the size, bulk, claws, and terrestrial lifestyle of Oren's mapinguari all speak against a uniform monkey identity. Also, as we've seen, a clawed animal which can not be a monkey has still been described as one. A giant peccary is another feasible possibility, although peccaries cannot stand on their hind legs, and Marc Van Roosmalen's research suggests it's possible that the larger they get, the better they smell.
It was of course David Oren who first proposed that the mapinguari could be an extant ground sloth. At first he argued this based on small points such as tracks, faeces, diet, and behaviour, but after interviewing the seven hunters, the physical description also became very sloth-like. I probably don't need to point out the many similarities (and the discrepancies) in all the physical descriptions, and how they generally conform to a cow-sized ground sloth; but alongside the more obvious features, Oren suggested that, because of the inward curvature of a ground sloth's tracks, anyone seeing a series of them might interpret them the wrong way around, leading to a belief that the animal has backwards feet; and the round, "bottle" track said to be left by the mapinguari may be the imprint of a ground sloth's powerful tail. But assuming it is a ground sloth, its familial placement has been the subject of controversy, since some have claimed that the mapinguari combines the traits of different sloth families. This really comes down to the fact that it has both canine teeth and, supposedly, osteoderms (little pieces of bone armour beneath its skin, which Oren suggests would explain its invulnerability). Osteoderms are a feature of mylodontids and scelidotheriids, whereas canines are a feature of megalonychids (or so we're often told).
But does the mapinguari need osteoderms to be bulletproof? Even tree sloths have remarkable vitality, and the combination of matted hair, a powerful ribcage, and perhaps tough soft tissue could be enough to stop a bullet, without even mentioning the possibility that "bulletproof" mapinguaris could simply wander off to die slowly. True, the kida harara has both long fangs and "pebbles" under its skin, but the Karitiana might have incorporated memories of an extinct mylodontid into an extant megalonychid, since they could hardly know for sure that it has osteoderms without killing and dissecting one. On the other hand, there was in fact a mylodontid, Glossotherium robustum, which had both osteoderms and sexually-dimorphic caniniforms, and it did live in the Amazonian savannahs, but it's thought to have been a mixed feeder with a preference for grazing in open habitats. But trying to make such a specific identification is probably a mistake, and in any case, the mapinguari might not even be known from the fossil record—despite Heuvelmans' theory, the mapinguari could a rainforest specialist which lived in what remained of the rainforest during the ice age, and as far as I know, no unambiguous Late Pleistocene rainforest assemblages are known from the Amazonian region. There's also the remote possibility that more than one type of ground sloth has survived in the Amazon. One problem with a ground sloth identity, which Oren admits, is the mapinguari's tail, described as short, short and broad, or, on one occasion, large and thick. Ground sloths had relatively long, broad tails.
While the segamai, ujea, and owhuama could feasibly be folk memories of ground sloths, the mapinguari surely could not: 100 people did not see, and 7 hunters did not shoot, a memory. And reading descriptions of the kida harara, I was struck by the fact that the descriptions gathered from random, non-eyewitness Karitiana by anthropologist Felipe Velden are often quite contradictary, and not very sloth-like. This begs the question: if the kida harara is merely a cultural memory of a ground sloth, part of a shared Karitiana folklore, then why are the people who claim to have seen it for themselves the only ones to accurately describe a ground sloth?
The future
Writing in 1993, Oren feared that the mapinguari had recently become extinct: first-hand reports from Amapá in northeast Amazonas all came from elderly woodsmen, and Oren had no records of any sightings from the Tapajós Basin dating to within the previous twenty years. However, while he believed that it had very recently been extirpated from the eastern Amazon, he thought that small numbers could still exist in the far west of the Brazilian Amazon, in Amazonas and Acre, and sightings from the west have been reported into the 21st Century. While many zoologists and palaeontologists consider its existence unlikely, within cryptozoology it is often brought up as one of the cryptids most likely to be real. Karl Shuker, for instance, considers it possibly "one of the most likely creatures in the cryptozoological annals to be officially unveiled one day by science," while Richard Freeman lists it as one of the ten cryptids most likely to be discovered in the 21st Century.
To conclude, Bernard Heuvelmans suggested in 1955 that ground sloths might be found in the Amazon, and decades later he was justified by David Oren, who came to believe that descriptions of the mapinguari referred to a ground sloth. When he made this proposal, the data he had was suggestive of a ground sloth in the little details, such as tracks and faeces, rather than in the full description, which was not entirely sloth-like. But he was later backed up by the hunters' descriptions, which painted a picture of a very ground sloth-like animal. Now Shuker and Freeman suggest that the mapinguari's existence may be proven in the 21st Century. Will they too be justified?
Sightings map
I've pinned some mapinguari sightings (and others from Canada, the U.S., Central America, and Patagonia) onto a map using Google Maps. (?) denotes that the location of the sighting is known only vaguely; O that the sighting is placed relatively securely; (O) that it is placed with some certainty; and 🌊 that the sighting occurred at any possible point along the marked body of water. Of course the reason why most of these sightings occur along rivers and near towns or plantations is because that's where people are most likely to come into contact with a rare forest animal.
Selected sources
submitted by CrofterNo2 to Cryptozoology [link] [comments]


2020.10.16 18:30 jouscat Realities of a Woman's Life on the Road

We see a lot of posts on here asking about how safe it is to travel as a woman, so I thought I'd try my hand at a descriptive post of my experiences thus far. I started seriously traveling and roughing it when I was around 21 years of age. I am now 26, for context. It's been a bumpy few years full of lots of learning experiences for a lady from bumfuck Kentucky. During this time, I have lived on a schoolie, rubbertramped, vandwelled, RV'd, hitchhiked, and worked seasonally.
People have tried to kidnap me. Multiple times. I went into a Walmart around 6 PM once, and came back out very quickly. I saw someone go hide behind my RV in the very back corner of the lot. He wasn't expecting me back so soon, and we made eye contact. Trust that gut feeling you get when you know something isn't right. I carried a weapon in my hand and went back into the McDonald's in the store... got a cup of coffee and sat for hours until my friend came back. I'm glad I had big dogs in the RV, or it definitely would have been compromised.
Every time you go into a rest area, it's a risk. Fuck the rules - I ALWAYS take a dog with me if it's getting toward the evening. I always have my weapon ready to be drawn as I walk out the door. Check every angle, especially your typical blind spots. I have come out and immediately checked around the corner to find someone sitting in wait for me. They hesitated and I got away safely because I had a weapon out, a dog that wasn't friendly, and was expecting them. They were caught off-guard, not me. You're not being paranoid. This shit happens and you have to be prepared.
I have had someone break into my RV. We weren't trying to be stupid. Sometimes you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. We were briefly meeting with someone about a work trade as a last resort option in a difficult time and couldn't watch the vehicle, but that's all it took. We lost essentials. You'd think they would have stolen the instruments, but they took toilet paper, blankets, a power bank, spare change, our first aid, etc... all the things that fucked us the most. Possessions can be replaced though. When I first got back to the RV, I should have trusted my dogs. Every single one of them loaded in and then immediately turned tail and leaped back out. It took coaxing to get them inside. They smelled that something wasn't right. What if someone had been lying in wait? We found a window left cracked open just a hair, enough so that someone could easily have come in later while we were sleeping. They had opened the roof hatches too, like they had been in there a while, just waiting, and it had been too hot. Had we come back sooner, we might have been in an even worse position. Do not assume your home is automatically a safe space. Any time you enter after having left, keep a lookout for what could be wrong. If you have that sinking bad feeling, leave.
Camping on the west coast versus the east coast is a different game. The east can be sketchy, but I've had my worst experiences in the west. I swear, it's just a way of life for some people out there. All the constant scouting by junkies and tweakers at anywhere free to sleep is bad, and you're not getting much sympathy from anyone as far as help goes. Be skeptical if a 'nice guy' wants to set you up into a better situation. There's more organized grooming and crime than you can even anticipate. What might be a good situation for your buddy who is a dude could quickly turn dangerous for you, a woman. Bros often don't know how creepy their friends are, either.
You will likely be sexually harassed at work. Less so at the yuppie jobs, but if you're working on farms or general labor, be prepared. Of course, I have gotten the typical treatment of expecting the women to not be able to do hard work and assigning us to cook, do laundry, and clean the toilets. I've had credit for my hard work given to men who didn't lift a finger. But I have also had employers drug girls that I worked with to sleep with them. They'd even specifically hire attractive girls just to have a chance at them. People in power positions think they can get away with whatever they want in terms of mistreating vagrant women. Speaking up will lose you your job. How much is the money worth though?
It's hard to find company with men. Maybe my perspective is a bit warped because I'm homoromantic. Most guys I have traveled with know that I am only interested in women, since that's an important conversation to have. Most also don't care. Close friends have made moves on me and felt me up, expecting me to change for them. I don't want to be one of those girls that can't have platonic friends of the opposite gender. It's not easy though. You may be hurt by the way people close to you treat you.
I don't dress in a feminine way. I wear jeans or tactical-type clothing, green or brown, usually. I play down my appearance. It doesn't stop people from trying to make moves, but perhaps it helps some.
Being homeless as a women is inherently more dangerous in obvious ways, too. I managed to hitchhike across the country in a few days with little to no wait time between rides. I had a trucker try to keep me in his hotel room at the end of the day, luring me with a ride further the next day. He insisted my dog stay in his truck. I noped the fuck out of that. Nothing like listening to a married man go on about his children all day to really work up the libido. One guy gave me a ride before I even got to the on-ramp to stick up my thumb. That one was strange. He tried to be respectful in a religious way, but clearly wanted me to marry him and have his babies. Decided to try Craigslist rideshare for a leg of the journey. I could have ridden free if I took the guy up on the flirting, but the cash cost less than my dignity. I stayed safe because I knew when to get the fuck out, but I really should have avoided all those scenarios from the beginning. I only had one women pick me up on my whole trip, and it was just for a half hour drive. I'm not trying to say all men are bad. I couchsurfed with a guy in a small studio, and he was a perfect gentleman. It's possible. But often times, if something seems too enticing, it's for a reason, and people have objectives.
I was flying a sign with a guy once, whom walked away to take a piss. The moment he was gone, the homebums creeped in to harass me. Another time, I had an old drunkard propose to me with a ring pop from Dollar Tree after getting down on all fours and pretending to drink out of my dogs' water bowl. He wouldn't stop asking for my number, while I had to lie and pretend I was dating the guy traveling with me. Many men don't respect women. They only respect 'another man's property.' I realize I sound like a mega-cunt feminist right now. I swear, I'm just trying to relay my honest experiences. I known some men that are just the greatest people out there. But when you're on the streets, you're not often interacting with the cream of the crop. People will be gross to you.
I know having a dog makes it harder to find work and get into housing. But the right dog will also keep you safe. I've lost out on opportunities specifically because my dog was being protective (not aggressive, but defensive). These are not opportunities you want anyway. Dogs can read people, and you can read them, if you pay attention. If my dog specifically doesn't like someone, it's because they have bad intentions for me or they are on hard drugs. Rescued mutts + experience on the road = wonderful fucking companions. That's my advice on the matter. I don't want my dog to be too friendly. We are trying to survive together. Even if a dog isn't intimidating enough to halt someone in their tracks, a little yapper can give you a heads up if something is amiss.
Self-defense is so important. Pepper spray is better than nothing, but it's a joke and won't stop everyone. You might just piss someone off more. If you do carry it, I recommend pepper gel; the wind won't catch it as much. I mostly keep this on hand for if I had to break up a dog fight. Bear spray is another option that is better for crossing borders with (Canada doesn't like self-defense items, but bear spray works on people too). You could keep a stun gun, but make sure that's it's still useful even if the battery is dead, so it needs some heft and sharp edges. I carry multiple knives of varying sizes, some visible and some hidden. Switchblades and spring-action are nice, but again, legality varies in different regions. I also have a shank. It gives a different impression than a knife. It's not a multi-use tool - it's just for stabbing bitches. I had my shank out the aforementioned night when someone tried to jump me at a rest area. It startled them enough to buy me time. It means that I've put more thought into this than you realize, as an initial impression. I have brass knuckles too. I'm not a puncher, but I figured it'd be better for stopping a blade coming at me than my bare hands.
Weapons don't work if they're not accessible when you need them!!! You don't have time to reach into the zippered compartment of your bag. Have it out and ready, or at the very least, in your pocket with your hand on it if you anticipate anything at all. Paranoia keeps you safe. Don't talk yourself out of it. But make sure you are competent at utilizing your tools. If you fumble, it will be used against you.
I carry a 9 mm, as well. This does not make me feel safer. This makes me a target. People assume I won't use it, and it draws many eyes for theft. I'd rather not show up with a knife to a gun fight, but it has its caveats. If you have one, know the laws in your location. I did not travel with a firearm on foot, only by vehicle. I have a safe, and I follow all procedures to legally pass through wherever I am. Don't be stupid, cops are as much of a danger to you as anyone else.
Which leads me to my next point, officers can be fucking creeps at well. I'm probably preaching to the choir here, but I have definitely had some uncomfortable situations arise. Like I said before, people in power positions can and will abuse it.
I know I have spoken a lot about creepy guys, but you'd be a fool to inherently trust women, as well. I have had girls approach me in a friendly manner, or seeking help, that were clearly lures for bigger traps. Tits don't make someone a good person. And good people can be in desperate situations that compromise their values too. Not all predators are obvious. You need to be cunning and analytical. I have heard about women injecting another lady in a public restroom, and then carrying her out to a strange vehicle, all under the guise of "sorry, my friend had a little too much to drink."
I could go on forever about this topic, and by no means am I an expert. Just speaking from the heart. I want to leave you with a piece of advice from Clint Emerson's 100 Deadly Skills: Survival Edition...

"Survival is a by-product of action. Be brave, swift, and violent."

I avoid confrontation whenever possible. But if you do, unfortunately, find yourself in a position with no choice, you have to act. Predators expect you to be weak and submissive. They expect you to be fearful and to follow orders. Surprise them. Be crazy. Scare them.
But most of all, be safe.
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