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2020.10.07 23:04 digital4kcollector (Offer) my codes (request) your codes

Hey new username, formerly littlejohn04
**4K Disney/Marvel*\*
**HD Disney/Marvel/Star Wars*\*
**collections*\*
**HD unless noted as 4k*\* ​

**Standard Definition Movies*\*
**XML CODES*\*
Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter / avengers / Broken City / Captain America First Avenger / Chronicle / Despicable Me / diary of a wimpy kid 3 dog days / die hard 5 / Family guy it's a trap / Fast And Furious / Fast And Furious Tokyo Drift / Green zone / Hitchcock / ice age / Inglorious Basterds / iron man 2 / jumper / kung fu panda 2 / life of pi / Lincoln / Mamma Mia! / Monsters Inc / parental guidance / Rio / percy Jackson sea of monsters / percy jackson the lightning thief / Prometheus / the proposal / Puss in Boots / rio / Skyfall / The Fast And The Furious / The Hangover / the heat / the town / Trainspotting / the town / walking with dinosaurs / Xmen First Class / Xmen the wolverine
TV shows*
Screen passes list
https://www.reddit.com/usedigital4kcollectocomments/hiq066/screen_passes/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
**REQUESTING*\*
New releases 4k preferred Itunes preferred if not MA
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2020.10.01 19:38 throwaway_2142382354 Lessons Learned

Throw away account (obviously) and a LONG post (sorry! I started writing and it all just came gushing out...).
A few months ago, I (35/HLM) decided to swallow my pride and search for answers online for the lack of intimacy in my marriage. As I'm sure everyone here is aware, the rabbit hole that is Google took me all over the web, but I kept seeing links to Reddit, which I had avoided until now (nothing against it, I'm just not much of an internet person).
Wow. Not only did my situation have a NAME, but there were hundreds of thousands of members in this community (I'm sure some are duplicates, but I digress). I've been lurking (I have a love/hate relationship with that word) here for a few months, reading other people's stories, successes, and failures, and I've realized that I could probably actually write a very long and accurate post here by just copying and pasting paragraphs from other posts....I can't say that there's been a single post that fit me like a glove, but aggregating experiences has produced an uncanny resemblance to my current situation (with the exception of my origin story, which I'll go into now for context).
DISCLAIMER: I've made some grievous mistakes that I regret literally every single day, everything from words (or lack thereof) to actions. What I write here may trigger some of you, and I apologize in advance...I just need to get this out there and vent since I have no one else to safely bounce my experiences off of besides my counselor. So, without further ado...
My relationship with my wife (38/LLF) began 13 years ago (not innocently enough...), when she was still with her older BF at the time who was a complete dick to her and actually had a secret family behind her back, and CONSTANTLY cheated on her, whether it was on work trips or just when she was out working or at school. Our relationship grew very organically, and she made the first moves on me (which I loved). I had never been involved with someone who was attached before, and the thrill of the forbiddingness of it all brought everything to a new level. Well, a few months in he figured it out, and broke up with her, which she was actually excited about so we wouldn't need to sneak around anymore. This is a crucial moment, because I really liked her (she was quickly becoming my best friend, and we seemed it hit it off on everything), but also wasn't ready to settle down with a single partner.
Enter my emotional shortcomings. I grew up in a very strict military household where sharing your opinions and thoughts were encouraged as long as they were the exact same as my parents. I became extremely good at bottling up emotions and opinions, and was TERRIBLE at being honest with myself and others on how I'm feeling and what's going on in my head. So, despite these warnings in my head, I did my best to match her enthusiasm as we officially became a couple. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED hanging out with her and talking with her, and like most new relationships, the sex and intimacy was amazing, even if I noticed a lack of enthusiasm for foreplay and other non-PIV actions. That was okay at the time though, because we were doing it 1-2 times a week, maybe a little less, and the actual sex was fantastic. However, I still had plans for my education and career, which involved moving to another state to finish up my undergraduate degree (this was always out in the open, she knew my goals). She became very upset at this, and told me how selfish it was to leave her like that given our situation, so I made some passing comment about her moving to said state with me while I finished up school, and she jumped on the idea. I had a lot of mixed emotions about this, but of course being the good military brat that I was, I kept them to myself.
I ended up enjoying living with her more than I thought I would (this was my first time living with a SO), and we were basically in our honeymoon phase at this point, so we definitely had a lot of fun. But, I started to notice things in her personality that rubbed me the wrong way. She didn't like my friends, and subtly started removing me from their sphere of influence. Female friends all of a sudden became an absolute no-no, to the point where I couldn't even tell her about having to work with other females in school on a strictly "let get this assignment shit done and go home" basis. "Just talk to her, be honest and open!" you say?
How familiar are you with the enneagram scale on personality? I've found it to be much more accurate with characterizing people and their behavior than the oft-lauded acronyms. My wife (GF at this point in time) is an equal mix between a 1 (The Reformer - The Rational, Idealistic Type: Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic) and an 8 (The Challenger - The Powerful, Dominating Type: Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational). I am equal parts 9 (The Peacemaker - The Easygoing, Self-Effacing Type: Receptive, Reassuring, Agreeable, and Complacent) and 7 (The Enthusiast - The Busy, Fun-Loving Type: Spontaneous, Versatile, Distractible, and Scattered). We should balance each other out, but I quickly found that instead of balance, we would entrench ourselves further in our own stubborn ruts. If she didn't agree with something, or had an opinion on something/someone, you better agree with her and get on her page or you are WRONG and need to do better. Having female friends and classmates was not on the list of accepted character traits, and the arguments that would ensue were far too heated for what the discussion should have/could have been.
Still, I didn't want to keep upsetting her (I'm a Peacemaker, after all), after all she and her BF broke up because of me, and she moved to this state with me, so I owed her. At least, I owed her the reassuring words she wanted to hear (is what I justified to myself). I never cheated on her while at school, physically or emotionally, but I did hide and cover up when I worked or talked with other females (it was impossible not to...most of my classes only had 7-8 students in them, half of which were female, and we were all in the same program, so lots of classes together those few years). Yes, hindsight is 20-20, and the signs were there that this was not a healthy relationship...but I wasn't healthy, I just didn't know it yet.
Fast-forward through two years of this. I've graduated, we've moved back to our home state, and we're both working full-time. We're still very happy and have a ton of fun together, but there are super-heated arguments happening more frequently. We're still having sex 1-2 times a week at this point, but foreplay has all but disappeared, and the other non-PIV acts such as oral are waning as well. I don't say anything, because I know I'm not supposed to voice these kinds of opinions. I accept it, and am grateful that we're having any physical intimacy at all, but the thought lingers at the back of my mind. And the arguments are starting to take a toll. She gets very verbally and emotionally abusive when she's angry (not to mention vindictive) and several years of these arguments have started to erode at my sense of worth and self-confidence. Then, the unthinkable (for me) happened.
As I mentioned earlier, foreplay was no longer happening, so it was straight to sex when she was in the mood. And when I mean straight to sex, I mean I better be ready-to-go before my pants come off, without any external influence. Well, one day I wasn't ready yet (physically...I was certainly ready mentally), and she went nuclear on me. It had to be because I was sleeping around, or having an affair, or gay, or some dark secret. I tried to explain to her that there was a lot of pressure to perform right away, and sometimes I just need a little bit of physical encouragement to get me in the zone, not to mention I had an extremely stressful job at the time. That didn't cut it for her...she had never experienced a guy not being ready to go immediately, and she was insulted. This same scenario played out a few times over the next couple of years (not many, but enough to make it a topic of discussion even today).
Did I mention I'm the HL in this relationship? I was (and still am) CONSTANTLY trying to initiate with her, usually daily. And it wasn't just to satiate my biological urge, I genuinely wanted to be intimate with her, and express love in a physical manner. I am absolutely a giver in sex...I LOVE to make my partner feel good, to feel wanted and desired and sexy. Of course, I'm a man and love receiving, too, and would never turn down an offer for this (or so I thought). But, sometimes there are just too many external stressors and I can't turn them off long enough to turn myself on. This was rare, but it happened a handful of times, and hasn't actually happened in about 5 years now.
The sex becomes less frequent. Any other physical intimacy almost completely vanished. She is excelling at her job in and we live in an area I did NOT want to move back to, which I repeatedly voiced during our time together. But, I wanted to be supportive of her, so we moved back here. She almost instantly changes to become a "better adult". She's taking everything in life much more seriously, and has less willingness to enjoy the recreational activities that brought us together in the first place. I, on the other hand, have a very different view of "adulting" - get your shit done that needs to get done, then play however you choose. She didn't agree with this mantra, and another wedge starts to grow between us.
Anyway, we've now been together for a few years, had a lot of good times and some shitty times as well, but we're still together. I'm also now feeling guilty for having not married her at this point, and I've certainly received cues from her to get that done. Of course I love her and still consider her my best friend, but I can't shake the feeling that she's not the one. "Too bad!" my brain tells me..."suck it up, buttercup, and be a man. You've taken this many years of her life from her, put a ring on her finger and do what you're supposed to do." So, I propose, she says yes, and we start planning the rest of our lives together.
During our time together, our arguments and her deliberately cruel words have eaten a hole in me that I hadn't noticed yet (or chose to ignore). My sense of worth is less than zero, and I don't feel like I'm a man if I communicate any of this to her, so the feeling builds and builds and constantly devours my self-value. Due to some very specific attacks on me and my personality and hobbies, I don't feel like ANYONE can see value in me or be attracted to me, and the fact that our sex life has dramatically decreased (1-2 times a month) and is apparent that it feels like a chore for her takes my mind to some very dark places. Worried about where this is heading, but not able to articulate myself clearly, I suggest couples counseling, and she agrees. It is not productive for either of us.
Obviously, if my fiancée doesn't find me attractive and has repeatedly told me no woman would want me, then the only way someone like me can get physical satisfaction is to pay for it. Now, I'm not a bad looking guy by any stretch of the imagination, and I never had any issues getting girls or having hook ups before I met my wife, but years of this mentality, coming from someone who you care deeply about, can wreck your psyche. Also, I'm clearly not equipped at this point to communicate my feelings...but what I CAN do is hide things. So, desperate for human contact, I go to my first massage parlor. In the moment, it was exciting. Afterwards, the shame and guilt and self-loathing induced are enough to crush my already teetering sense of worth into nothing. Are you familiar with the addiction cycle?
That wasn't the only time it happened...despite the feelings afterwards, my desperation pulls me to do this dozens of times over the course of several years. Now, this was just (yes, I get that "just" attempts to minimize my actions, but hang in there) massage parlors, and there was never any sex involved...just hand stuff. Well, this is a slippery slope, and before I knew it, I was in a hotel room with an escort. This experience was extremely disappointing, and left me feeling even more shitty about myself. So, naturally, I tell myself "it'll be better next time!" I do this four more times. Ugh...I'm making myself sick thinking about this, but I need to get it out to someone.... This behavior wasn't constant, but the fact that it was happening at all is still a major problem, one that I tell myself I can stop at any time (ha!).
The day after the last time, my wife (who's at home with our 18-month old daughter) at this point gets a notification on her phone from Google..."How would you rate your stay at the Comfort Inn?" Oh yeah, something you should know about my wife...she's an armchair detective. She can DIG into things when she wants to, and she's very good at it. Needless to say, I was (rightfully) kicked out of the house at this point, and moved back in with my parents who were just a few miles away (one of the reasons I did not want to come back to this area). Also, and this will come into play later, my dad had just been diagnosed with "the most aggressive case of colon cancer" his oncologist had ever seen.
I'm thinking the marriage is over, I'll never see my daughter again, and I am spiraling into despair. In a rare moment of lucidity for me, I try something I never wanted to do...I sought professional help. I find a counselor, reassess my priorities in life, and start getting my shit back together, all while living at home during my dad's cancer treatments. Eventually, my wife invites me back into the house (in the guest room), and we (I) start talking, really talking, for the first time in my life. I'm not yet equipped to deal with her in full confrontation mode, so I am repeatedly told how wrong my opinions and views are, and how my priorities and wants are those of a horny middle-schooler, not a man. I vow to step it up, and I do for a while! I'm no longer paying for attention or seeking it elsewhere...instead, I look inward and start pursuing my own hobbies to distract me from what is now the complete lack of physical connection (obviously).
Do you remember that I display behaviors in line with that of an addictive personality? My wife was not a fan of my hobbies, some of them old (games), some of them new (real nerdy stuff that I never thought I'd get into, but not having friends anymore to hang out and no chance of physical intimacy forces you to find things to do alone, so here I was). Sex and physical release is exchanged for secret purchases to get me more of my hobby materials, and for smoking way too much weed. I'm not hiding extra-marital shenanigans anymore, I'm hiding stupid shit, anything at all that gives me the illusion of control over my life. While other areas of my life are improving, I find things to hyper-focus on and escape the reality that I've created.
About a year later, my father passed away from his cancer. I found out shortly afterwards that my family of origin and my wife blame me for my father's rapid decline and eventual death...if I hadn't made those selfish choices, he would have most likely recovered, but the stress of having to deal with me was the nail in his proverbial (and literal) coffin. You can probably imagine how I'm feeling about myself at this point. It feels like I have no allies (other than my counselor), and no outlet since I was mocked and patronized even for my hobbies, so I do what I'm best at. I make selfish choices and then hide them from everyone. Two months after my father passed, I went back to a massage parlor, and then did it again one more time a few weeks later. I stopped at that point, overwhelmed with grief, shame, and self-loathing, but in my desperate stupidity, I used a credit card to pay for one of the parlor visits, which was of course discovered. At this point, the secret purchases are also discovered, so everything is coming back out into the open. I get kicked out again, and am forced to move back in with my mom, who is still harboring resentment over my role in my dad's death.
A few months of separation and a lot of counseling later (both individual and couples) and I'm back in the house (the guest room again). This time, I'm better equipped to talk about how I'm feeling, how her words and actions make me feel, and why I do the things I do (create and keep secrets for selfish desires). I'm able to identify and stay aware of triggers and things that make me spiral back into regression. I'm lucky that she's taken me back, and I know it, even if she threatens to kill me and reminds me how worthless I am...it's all worth it to see my daughter each day.
This last personal relapse was several years ago, and I am happy to admit that I haven't attempted to go back to paying for attention, nor have I looked outside the marriage for attention. Instead, I'm still seeing my counselor several times a month, journaling, meditating, eating healthier, exercising when I can. I'm much more engaged with both my wife and our (now two) kids, and I work hard to make their lives better. But, there is obviously a very dark shadow cast on myself as a person and on our relationship. I am well aware that my actions have forever changed our relationship, and I own my choices and am working to become a better person, as an individual, a partner, and a father.
"Wait, this is DB, and you had another kid and you're still together! What's the deal?"
I'm glad you asked. My wife and I both wanted to give our daughter a sibling, and we didn't want to wait any longer, so we very clinically would have sex when she was ovulating...but there was no passion to it, and certainly no fun. Luckily for her, I'm apparently pretty virile, and was able to get her pregnant very quickly for both kids so the sex stopped pretty much immediately after she found out she was pregnant. Why are we still together? Well, we don't see eye-to-eye on most things, and she thinks I'm incapable and incompetent in pretty much every aspect of being a human being (even without my destructive behavior, she has a very high pedestal from which she passes judgment on those around her), but one thing we both agree on and she recognizes is our ability to parent extremely well as a team. We are on the same page pretty much with every decision that involves the kids, from play time, to discipline, to schooling, everything. And she knows how much I love my kids, which is an insane amount.
This brings me to my current DB situation. Like I mentioned at the beginning, I've made some terrible mistakes for which I am unabashedly ashamed, but they're my mistakes and I own them. I have been working incredibly hard to become a better person, and those around me have noticed this change and commented on it, even my wife. I didn't deserve a second or third chance, but I got it, and I'm making the most of it now. That being said, she has also chosen twice to stay with me, to accept me back, and even to have another kid with me. I know I hurt her mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for that, but I go out of my way to show her how much I care about her, how sexy I think she is (for the record, she was and is HOT...even at 8 months pregnant, she would have random guys come up to her and tell her how hot she was, regardless of my presence with her).
During our entire relationship, whether it was back when I was in school, or when I was paying for attention, I found her extremely attractive, and have made that very known to her...to the point where she has asked me to stop telling her. I haven't received a compliment from her since before we were married (before everything came out), but have tried not to let it get to me. I still struggle greatly with self-worth and value, but I try not to let my insecurities control me. That being said, I want to feel wanted and desired, and I haven't felt that since before we were married. She stopped initiating sex during our engagement, which I chalked up to anxiety and stress about the wedding, but she's never tried again since then...it has always been me, and as many of you are all too aware, that rejection takes a toll after years of not only being told no, but also only receiving criticisms and insults, and never encouragement or compliments or anything vaguely close to flirting.
These issues with our intimacy started before I began my deep dive into selfish secrets, but she blames it all on either those actions or my not being a man (I am constantly being told that I am just a middle-schooler in a 35-year-old's body, which is a self-deprecating mental battle with which I am still struggling through with my counselor). And here's where we get to familiar territory. I've brought up sex and intimacy (or lack thereof) with her and our couples counselor numerous times, and she ALWAYS finds a way to either change the subject, turn it back around on me, or minimize my needs. According to her, no normal couple has sex more than once or twice a month, and certainly no woman wants to have sex more than that. Foreplay and anything that's not PIV sex is strictly for porn (which she used to love), and is not something normal spouses engage in. The fact that I'm asking for sex and trying to initiate almost daily is very immature and selfish of me, and she shouldn't have to deal with that. But, masturbation is also frowned upon, and she wants me to tell her when I do it 1) for transparency's sake (which I've obliged) and 2) so that she can remind me how gross and depressing I am. I don't do it very often (maybe once or twice a week) even though I want to, just so I can be ready to go on the off-chance that she is receptive to my advances.
It's been three months since we've had sex. And before that, it happened four times in the course of four months. And before that, it was nine months between sex dates. It's been six or so years since the last time she gave me oral (I would probably kill someone at this point to go down on her) or even sensually touched me with her hands (this all stopped even before everything came out). She can't comprehend how I'm so horny all the time, and I can't comprehend how she's never horny. When we do have sex, it's clearly pity sex and a chore and always exactly the same flavor of vanilla, which I hate but am so desperate that I will never turn down.
I've had major issues. I've made major mistakes. But I'm working my ass off to become a better person for the ones I care about. She's had zero inclination to work on her anger issues (which she gleefully acknowledges) or her over-zealous judging of other people and the things they like, and as far as she's concerned, her sex-drive is on par with every other woman out there, and a real man wouldn't be bugging her about it. I've never begged for sex and never will, but I have begged her to talk with me about sex. Is there something about me that turns her off? Is there something I need to be doing to turn her on that she's not getting? Should I be touching her a different way (when I'm allowed to touch her, which is rare, and is never reciprocated)? I'm not a mind-reader, and I'm trying to keep an open dialog on everything, especially the subjects that are uncomfortable...
But a real man wouldn't need to ask those questions. A real man would know and figure it out without ever having to ask her. And a real man wouldn't feel the need to even talk about it. It's absolutely insane that it's so important to me, and THAT is the real issue here, not her lack of libido...physical intimacy is obviously just another addiction that I need to fight to overcome.
I don't know what to do at this point. I still love my wife (she's the mother of my children and my best friend...) and I want her to be happy. I've been made to feel like my desire to want intimacy with her is a flaw that needs to be corrected, and that's been echoed by my mom and my older sister (my only sibling...my wife has made my family painfully aware of my "shortcomings"). There are so many nights where I tell myself "don't even try to give her attention or affection or initiate sex, she doesn't want it from you" but I end up doing it anyway because I can't bring myself to NOT do it, and then I'm dealing with the guilt of "pressuring her" into having sex with me (even though she doesn't) as well as the feelings that well up from the countless rejections. Then, I read posts on here about people only having sex 1-2 times per week or a few times a month, and my first (selfish) reaction is "you lucky SOB's, you don't even know how lucky you are." But, then I remember how I felt when sex was declining slowly in frequency in my relationship, how I felt that it was torturously rare for a couple our age and in good health, and I become more sympathetic (still supremely jealous though).
My advice to anyone reading this (I doubt anyone is in a situation quite like mine) is learn to communicate early and often. It's work, and it's not fun, but it could save you heartache down the road, especially while you still have options open. Don't end up like me...one of my biggest fears as I matured into adulthood was having a lack of intimacy in my marriage (like my parents did), and sure enough I'm living that nightmare that I helped create.
For fuck's sake, TALK with your SO if your lack of sex or other physical requirements are not being met...maybe it's something you can both work on, or maybe incompatibilities are starting to show themselves. If they do, then get out while you can...I promise BOTH of you will be happier in the long run, even if it feels like the end of the world now.
I'm sure I've left things out that would add more context to this or better explain things, but I never intended to write this much, and my brain is fried at this point. Plus, I'm finding that I am feeling emotionally exhausted from getting this all out there. If you're still reading, I can't thank you enough for your time...even if you're filled with hate and rage towards me and agree completely with my wife, I'm still glad you took the time to read this. Feel free to reach out with questions, or if you just want to talk. Thank you.
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2020.09.30 16:42 digital4kcollector (Offer) updated list. Animated DC movies (request) lists, offers

Hey new username, formerly littlejohn04
**4K Disney/Marvel*\*
**HD Disney/Marvel/Star Wars*\*
**collections*\*
**HD unless noted as 4k*\* ​

**Standard Definition Movies*\*
**XML CODES*\*
Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter / avengers / Broken City / Captain America First Avenger / Chronicle / Despicable Me / diary of a wimpy kid 3 dog days / die hard 5 / Family guy it's a trap / Fast And Furious / Fast And Furious Tokyo Drift / Green zone / Hitchcock / ice age / Inglorious Basterds / iron man 2 / jumper / kung fu panda 2 / life of pi / Lincoln / Mamma Mia! / Monsters Inc / parental guidance / Rio / percy Jackson sea of monsters / percy jackson the lightning thief / Prometheus / the proposal / Puss in Boots / rio / Skyfall / The Fast And The Furious / The Hangover / the heat / the town / Trainspotting / the town / walking with dinosaurs / Xmen First Class / Xmen the wolverine
TV shows*
Screen passes list
https://www.reddit.com/usedigital4kcollectocomments/hiq066/screen_passes/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
**REQUESTING*\*
New releases 4k preferred Itunes preferred if not MA
submitted by digital4kcollector to uvtrade [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 11:52 thecambridgegeek Audio Drama/Fiction/RPG Debuts - September 2020

I've got what I think is a mostly exhaustive list of the new audio drama series that came out in September, which may be of interest to those looking for new shows. See below. Anyone want to tell me any I've missed, and I'll update it? (Note, "new" here means that the Ep1 of the RSS feed was released, or a previously non-fiction feed started producing fiction.) Listened to any of them that you would recommend?
Previous months are available here:
https://www.thecambridgegeek.com/results.php?proof=Releases&tag1=Audio%20fiction
And the ongoing updates (just in case you don't want to wait for the end of the month) are available here:
https://twitter.com/AudioDramaDebut
And I do a weekly podcast collecting a few trailers here:
https://www.thecambridgegeek.com/archive/add/add.php

9/1: No Place but the Water (Dramatised - Science fiction)
Site: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000ly22/episodes/downloads
Synopsis: Linda Marshall Griffiths' drama series set in a flooded future world. When there is no place but the water, where do you go?
RSS Feed: https://podcasts.files.bbci.co.uk/m000ly22.rss

9/1: Starlight (RPG - Science fiction)
Site: https://starlight.captivate.fm/
Synopsis: Join us for this live play DnD space opera as three unlikely heroes traverse the many perils of the known galaxy, and etch their names among the stars. We break the bounds of traditional epic fantasy, and reach for the starlit enterprises of the universe beyond.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.captivate.fm/starlight/

9/2: Deep Folk (Fiction - Anthology)
Site: https://redcircle.com/shows/deep-folk
Synopsis: Studio Tortu Presents: Deep Folk /// Deep Folk is an experimental Artificial Intelligence narrative podcast by Malcolm Sutherland and Simon Cottee /// Tales from the Generator is a first person radio drama written with assistance of the AI Dungeon Dragon Engine /// The Deep Folk Companion is an ongoing discussion of artificial intelligence and its role in the creative process.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.redcircle.com/69a2c347-766c-4a88-a926-e129b0944f3f

9/2: Eberron Chronicles: Oracle of War (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://www.oracleofwar.com/
Synopsis: A Dungeons & Dragons 5th edition "PodioBook" (podcast/audiobook) playing through a Wizards of the Coasts Adventurers League Campaign. Influence this game and story at: www.EberronChronicles.com
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2b7c1a5c/podcast/rss

9/2: Tales of the Nova Realm (Fiction - Fantasy)
Site: https://linktr.ee/totnrpodcast
Synopsis: This is a fantasy fiction podcast made by fans of the genre, FOR fans of the genre. The tales that will be told are also of those who inhabit this world. Filled with adventure, mystery and possibly lessons for those who wish to find a deeper meaning. We hope you enjoy what you hear!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/32be92b8/podcast/rss

9/2: The Hero of Matysia (Dramatised - Fantasy)
Site: https://anchor.fm/the-hero-of-matysia/
Synopsis: Fatine and Rusen, two knights-in-training in the Matysian Kingdom, meet the legendary hero Balthian, who tells them a variety of tales from his long life of adventures. Join the young trainees as they learn about their hero's life and come to understand the many complexities of heroism, and the impact that being a hero for such a long time can have on a person. Starring Jennifer Hale and Bryan J. Howard, The Hero of Matysia is an original, episodic audio drama created by Will Kaplan & John Kyle Moseley.
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2d7aa7ec/podcast/rss

9/4: (exp)lore (Fiction - Anthology)
Site: https://www.theatrejupiter.com/explore
Synopsis: A fiction anthology podcast to be enjoyed in the community while social distancing. These site-specific stories take an imaginative dive into the past and future of your city. Each episode immerses the audience in a rich audio play while they explore the world through a new lens.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.transistor.fm/explore

9/4: Armageddon: Black Dawn (Fiction - Fantasy)
Site: https://soundcloud.com/terry-tibke
Synopsis: A fantastic tale of dragon riders.

9/4: Deck of Many Queers (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://www.deckofqueers.com/
Synopsis: Welcome to the Table! We're the Deck of Many Queers. Just a group of queerfolk gathered around to play some Dungeons & Dragons!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/32bfba08/podcast/rss

9/4: No Sleep Tonight Horror Radio Show (Dramatised - Horror)
Site: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1330696
Synopsis: A horror radio show featuring fully dramatized radio plays to scare you silly.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/1330696.rss

9/4: Station Arcadia (Dramatised - Science fiction)
Site: https://www.stationarcadia.com/
Synopsis: The Station Arcadia podcast tells stories from a dystopian world where dieselpunk, steampunk, cyberpunk and solarpunk societies all exist side by side. These diverse stories are told through a radio station on a shifting island, and given voice to by the Station's Host - Kass. Woven through each stand-alone story are threads that come together to tell the story of a revolution, and hope in the face of a dying world. Also, it's queer.
RSS Feed: https://pinecast.com/feed/station-arcadia

9/4: The Genesys Archives (RPG - Anthology)
Site: https://anchor.fm/thegenesysarchives
Synopsis: Welcome to the Genesys Archives! A place where a bunch of nerds, artists, writers, and musicians collaboratively create stories through a tabletop role playing game called Genesys. This podcast will serve as an archive of these stories as we adventure through fan-favorite settings like Star Wars or Azeroth and unearth the unexplored in original settings like our first project: The Unseen World. Enjoy your stay and feel free to peruse our collection at your leisure!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/21e7ffb0/podcast/rss

9/4: The Heart of Ether (Dramatised - Horror)
Site: https://heartofether.tumblr.com/
Synopsis: Irene Gray moved to the town of Daughtler, Washington to move on from something that has haunted her for four years. There is more to this town than meets the eye, however. Beneath its surface, something lurks.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.soundcloud.com/users/soundcloud:users:868604788/sounds.rss

9/5: Space Mantis Show Podcast (Dramatised - Science fiction)
Site: https://spacemantisshow.com/
Synopsis: A fan hears a knock on her door and realizes she's been given a box of secret DVDs. Why did she get unreleased episodes of a canceled space opera show, and what's going on in space? She'll have to watch the DVDs to find out. The show, Space Mantis, follows a team of intergalactic efficiency experts combing the stars looking to bring order to the chaos of the universe! Though, what's the deal with space, anyway?
RSS Feed: https://spacemantisshow.com/storage/app/media/podcast.rss

9/6: Muhaymin Luckett Audio Dramas (Dramatised - Slice of life)
Site: https://anchor.fm/muhaymin-luckett/
Synopsis: Hello, My Name is Muhaymin Luckett. I am an aspiring Actor and Playwright. In this podcast you can expect to hear my works that tell compelling stories. I hope to become known throughout the world for the work I put out. New episode every other Sunday!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/202fe7a0/podcast/rss

9/6: Mysteries and Madness (RPG - Crime/Mystery)
Site: http://www.theclubhouse.ca/
Synopsis: A 2 Player Role Playing Game creating a Supernatural Detective Drama set in the 1940s. GM’d by Dave Coalmine & Played by Todd Sullivan. These are the Case Files of Jack Shepherd.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/coalminesclubhouse/feed.xml

9/7: Audio Ephemera (Dramatised - Anthology)
Site: https://anchor.fm/audio-ephemera
Synopsis: Audio Ephemera is an audio drama series of unique, inclusive, and engaging one-off stories. Every month, a new story with new characters to love and a new journey to follow will make its way into your ears, head, and heart.
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/34618580/podcast/rss

9/7: Love Don’t Live Here Anymore (Dramatised - Slice of life)
Site: http://ldlha.com/
Synopsis: "Love Don't Live Here Anymore," is a fictional, original audio drama podcast series by writers Terrell Jackson and Ember Stone. The lead, Naomi Martin, is a young woman from Kansas City, MO, torn between her dream of becoming a world-renowned vocalist, and the more seemingly realistic goal, set for her by her father, to finish school and have a practical, “safe” existence.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/ldlha/feed.xml

9/7: Mighty Deeds (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://gveltum.podbean.com
Synopsis: Mighty Deeds is a podcast of high adventure. If you Like Dungeons and Dragons, Dungeon Crawl Classics, or any other brand of Fantasy Adventure Actual Play podcasts, please give Mighty Deeds a try. We're starting off with a Ravenloft / Curse of Strahd funnel, but where things go from there is anyone's guess. Be on the lookout for more Goodman Games adventures in the party's future.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/gveltum/feed.xml

9/7: Ravis: The Lost World (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://anchor.fm/1in20
Synopsis: Welcome to the world of Ravis for our D&D 5e actual play campaign series! Ravis is a world full of monsters and mystery. Follow our adventurers as they uncover the truth behind the Lost World. Using D&D 5e rule set, with a few homebrew / variant rules thrown in! World and story is created and written by our Dungeon Master; Liam Wright. We hope you enjoy!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/33051008/podcast/rss

9/7: The Golden House (Dramatised - Interactive)
Site: https://www.the-golden-house-podcast.com/
Synopsis: "The one and only podcast for The Golden House Technology and Innovation Centre. Broadcasting from the heart of our state-of-the-art facility on the Isle of Wight". These six episodes were originally broadcast between September 2018 and January 2019. They were pulled from the internet shortly after. Each episode seems to contain a code of some kind... I'm reposting in the hope that someone can shed light on what happened here. I'll repost any clues to my Twitter (@ImogenShelfTest).
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2205482c/podcast/rss

9/7: Waylays and Melees (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://waylaysandmelees.podiant.co/
Synopsis: Waylays and Maylays To date: it is the only place that one can get such classics as; grown men cry laughing whilst other adults squeak in high pitched voices trying to intimidate a glowing penguin baby out of it's own birthday cake and into a brand new porn carriage.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.podiant.co/waylaysandmelees/rss.xml

9/8: The Elvet Mysteries (Dramatised - Horror)
Site: https://kymdeyn.com/crow-kettle/
Synopsis: The Elvet Mysteries is a horror-mystery miniseries set in a small English university town. After a strange experience, first year student Livvy Jones starts to document the unusual things happening in Durham, and invites the student body to share their stories.

9/9: Around Dis Joint (Dramatised - Anthology)
Site: https://arounddisjointent.com/
Synopsis: Around Dis Joint Entertainment is a podcast that produces original creative content from a collaboration of talented Screenwriters, Voice Actors, Songwriters, Music Producers, & Poets. From Romantic Comedies and Dramas, to Horror, Sci-Fi, and Whodunits, our radio theatre style stories will capture your attention and awaken your imagination with new episodes launching each week!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2e2ed67c/podcast/rss

9/9: Brian Blessed's Bedtime Stories (Fiction - Anthology)
Site: https://www.unionjack.co.uk/shows/brian-blesseds-bedtime-stories/
Synopsis: Gordon's Alive! Shy and retiring actor Brian Blessed has got his first ever podcast. Every Wednesday, he'll be soooooothing you to sleep with classic children's stories and fairy tales. Get ready for a 'calming' and completely off-the-rails rendition of some of world's most famous stories.
RSS Feed: https://www.omnycontent.com/d/playlist/58553d62-3a06-463a-b5c8-a442006798d2/bb064cdb-72fc-4ecc-81e5-ac2100a60a4a/1e1ef77f-6708-4ce9-83ed-ac2100a66c15/podcast.rss

9/9: Of Mice and Men and Monsters (RPG - Anthology)
Site: https://omamamshow.captivate.fm/
Synopsis: A real play podcast where Dungeons and Dragons collides with the classic stories you either love or completely avoided while in school. Join players Aaron, Adam, Kimmie, and Dungeon Master Katelyn, who is also a high school English teacher by day, as D&D elements are dropped into famous pieces of literature.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.captivate.fm/omamamshow/

9/9: Season of the Worm (RPG - Urban fantasy)
Site: https://seasonoftheworm.libsyn.com/
Synopsis: Season of the Worm is an actual play Monster of the Week podcast set in Eureka Springs, Arkansas and it's dark heart Wormwood Falls. Season of the Worm follows 2 groups of monster hunters as they try to solve mysteries and hunt down monsters in and around Wormwood Falls, Arkansas.
RSS Feed: https://seasonoftheworm.libsyn.com/rss

9/9: The Dr. Epicopolis & 1102 Show of Shows (Dramatised - Comedy)
Site: https://www.wonkybot.com/the-dr-epicopolis-1102-show-of-shows/
Synopsis: A meta comedy audio series following supervillain Dr. Epicopolis, the self-proclaimed ‘genius of all evil’ who plots to destroy Earth’s superheroes with his loyal but terribly mistreated slog, 1102. A spin-off from the Parents’ Choice Gold Award-winning scripted podcast series Tara Tremendous.
RSS Feed: https://www.spreaker.com/show/4483253/episodes/feed

9/10: Tall and True Short Reads (Fiction - Anthology)
Site: https://shows.acast.com/tall-and-true-short-reads/
Synopsis: Tall And True Short Reads is an audio fiction podcast featuring original short stories from Tall And True, an online showcase and forum for writers, readers and publishers, narrated by Robert Fairhead.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/tall-and-true-short-reads

9/10: Welcome to the Quids Inn (Dramatised - Comedy)
Site: https://welcometothequidsinn.podomatic.com/
Synopsis: Welcome to the Quids Inn' is the story of five young people simultaneously hired by the Edinburgh Newington branch of the Quids Inn, Britain's finest chain of budget hotels. The series explores the group's interactions, stories, misadventures and fun whilst working hard maintaining the reception desk, open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!
RSS Feed: https://welcometothequidsinn.podomatic.com/rss2.xml

9/11: The Atlantis Project (Dramatised - Science fiction)
Site: https://www.amam.cymru/theatlantisproject/2536
Synopsis: “...This is North Sag – home of the Sagog people. It’s disappearing to the sea. Tomorrow, we have to leave North Sag forever. So tonight, we’ve come together to record our story for you. This is ‘The Atlantis Project’...” This is an audio series in 5 parts for listeners aged 11+. Created as an international collaboration between artists in Wales and Norway, we uncover the effects of climate change on culture through the adventurous and heart-warming story of Evie and Deean - two teenagers who invite us into their world of friendship, crisis and acceptance.

9/11: The Order of Podcasters (RPG - Crime/Mystery)
Site: https://anchor.fm/order-of-podcasters/
Synopsis: An actual play tabletop role-playing game using the Esoterrorists rules and featuring podcast hosts as the investigators, including Jennifer Taylor of In Defense of Liberty and Vanished, Rob Kristoffersen of The Coda, Brian Hastie of Double Density and The Coda, and TechnoFunkBoy of Tales from the Rusty Speeder and Dice & Dreary as the game master.
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/35707f6c/podcast/rss

9/12: Doctor Who: Beginnings of Battle (Dramatised - Fanfiction)
Site: https://anchor.fm/drwhobeginningsofbattle
Synopsis: After escaping a battle The Doctor, newly regenerated, finds himself on the frontline of attack from a creature known as a Tiromal, which is roaming the streets of modern day Edinburgh. After bumping into Sophie, a student, he then begins a quest into finding out who is unleashing these creatures in Edinburgh. Starring Harry Aspinwall as The Doctor, Sophie Weller as Sophie, Max Darke as Triper, Abbie Davidson as Daisy, Maisy Crunden as Tilda, Courtney McCrea as The Physora, Briony Martha as Megan, Rachel Johnstone as Debbie, David McKie as The Soldier, Tomos Bohanna as The tech geek and narrated by Lewis C. Baird.Original music by Rebecca Kelly. Featuring music by CO.AG Music, Whitesand and White Bat Audio. Written, Directed & Edited by Lewis C. Baird.
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2dad2870/podcast/rss

9/12: In Astra: A Sci-Fi Mystery (Dramatised - Crime/Mystery)
Site: https://allmylinks.com/inastrapodcast
Synopsis: What is happening at Delphic Peak Preparatory School? Joaquin Moreno doesn't want to be here. But as a bizarre and disquieting mystery unfolds, he may be forced to stay and reckon with it—especially since he's the only one who's noticed. Now Joaquin must fight battles both outward and inward. Because truth carries burden. No one can go back in the dark once they find the light... And there's something watching us from the stars. In Astra is a story about mystery, trust, mental health, and identity. And also space and some gay stuff. New episodes every Saturday! Written, Directed, and Produced by Bee Dellepiane.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/inastrapodcast/feed.xml

9/13: Deconstructive Criticism (Dramatised - Comedy)
Site: https://dcritpodcast.libsyn.com/
Synopsis: This is the podcast where Paul and Allison review all the things they do and don’t need in their lives… But there’s one very important thing they never discuss: Do they need each other?
RSS Feed: https://dcritpodcast.libsyn.com/rss

9/13: The Paper Dungeon (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://www.thepaperdungeon.com/
Synopsis: The Paper Dungeon is a Dungeons and Dragons 5e campaign streamed on Twitch. Our group started in Nebraska, but has spread to include people across the United States, and we hope to include people around the world. D&D has held us together for years. Welcome to the podcast of our adventure, Dungeoneers.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/thepaperdungeon/feed.xml

9/13: Where the Tracks End (Dramatised - Crime/Mystery)
Site: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1304281
Synopsis: From Darker Truths in Strange Fiction Studios comes a tale of 5 people whose lives become intertwined: two boys, two police officers, and a murderestalker. The audio drama will follow the lives of each of these characters separately throughout the course of 9 months.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/1304281.rss

9/14: Hank the Cowdog (Dramatised - Children)
Site: https://www.qcodemedia.com/hank-the-cowdog
Synopsis: Hank the Cowdog, the self-declared “Head of Ranch Security,” finds himself smack dab in the middle of a host of tangled mysteries and capers that span the universe of the Texas Panhandle cattle ranch Hank calls home. Hank is joined on these tail-wagging, tongue-slobbering adventures by a motley assemblage of characters, not least of which is his less-than trusty sidekick, Drover, a small but uncourageous mutt. Listen in as Hank the Cowdog always claims to know the answer, is the last to realize he doesn’t, but is the first to run headlong into tales of courage, loyalty, and friendship. Hank the Cowdog podcast stars and is executive produced by Academy Award® winner Matthew McConaughey. Written, directed and executive produced by Jeff Nichols.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.simplecast.com/syZR7vjv

9/14: The Spooky Sapphic Storyteller (Dramatised - Horror)
Site: https://linktr.ee/emwalker
Synopsis: A hybrid personal narrative/audio drama podcast exploring LGBTQ experiences and the paranormal.
RSS Feed: https://feed.podbean.com/spookysapphicstorytellefeed.xml

9/15: Dice and Desire (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://linktr.ee/DiceAndDesire
Synopsis: Six friends go adventuring in this actual play Dungeons and Dragons 5e podcast. Listen to find out how they avoid a TPK this week!
RSS Feed: https://shoutengine.com/DiceandDesire.xml

9/15: Team Asterous (Dramatised - Anthology)
Site: https://asterous.carrd.co/
Synopsis: Queer, inclusive, accessible. Subscribe to this feed for self-contained audio drama stories, TTRPG one-shots, previews of our other podcasts as well as special updates from the team. We're a small team of LGBTQIA+ creators making podcasts and videos together in Sydney, Australia.
RSS Feed: https://pinecast.com/feed/team-asterous

9/15: The Cypher and Avaria Beyond (Fiction - Urban fantasy)
Site: https://buzzsprout.com/1354183
Synopsis: Penner had always considered his life ordinary- but when his lover Chess receives a divine revelation that can’t be explained, his finds himself on the run from forces he doesn’t understand, on an adventure bigger than he could ever expect. Upending their idyllic life in a small town, Chess propels them on a journey to find answers to deep questions that plague his thoughts and his sanity. Now, caught up in an adventure that he doesn’t understand Penner must battle not only for his love, but for the sanity and mental fortitude of the man he loves. Partnering with Fred, a boisterous sky pirate with a mysterious past, they head out to find the answers they need on her airship. But the closer they get to their mysterious destination, the more danger they find themselves in. Facing betrayals, battles and a malevolent being that seems to be hunting them- soon they find themselves deep into conspiracies that threaten the very fabric of their reality. With their wits, their ship and a spot of tea- their quest for answers will make them confront the forces that created the universe. With only each other, will their love be enough to save each other?
RSS Feed: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/1354183.rss

9/15: West Coast Option (Dramatised - Sport)
Site: https://linktr.ee/thirdeyesockeye
Synopsis: A psychedelic football story presented by Third Eye Sockeye. Week to week we follow the Athens Beach Seafarers as they run their west coast-option offense through the gauntlet of alien abductions, satanic summonings, and crypto cryptids that is community college football.
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/2ed48d24/podcast/rss

9/16: Tales from the Witcher (Fiction - Fanfiction)
Site: http://www.buzzsprout.com/1320610
Synopsis: Tales from the Witcher showcases serialized, original short stories set in the Witcher universe. Part audiobook and part Actual Play Report, these tales are written and narrated by Jacob Gerstel—and are based on the adventures of his Witcher tabletop roleplaying group. We’ll follow the exploits of a stoic Bear School witcher, an alcoholic elven sorcerer, a resourceful craftsman, a lively bard, and others as they try to stay alive during the Third Northern War. There’s action and adventure, magic and the mundane, scheming and politics, elves and dwarves, war and peace, and—because it’s the Witcher—a touch of philosophy. A new part of the story is uploaded every Wednesday.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/1320610.rss

9/16: World of Wyldrvir (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://worldofwyldrvir.carrd.co/
Synopsis: Welcome to Wyldrvir! A Podcast set in an all new TTRPG system that is fully free to play at home! Made by a team of young adults come watch this world bloom and the adventures begin!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/31721ee8/podcast/rss

9/18: Out of the Ashes (Dramatised - Horror)
Site: http://www.buzzsprout.com/794927
Synopsis: Out of the Ashes is about a group of people surviving numerous weather anomalies due to a government experiment gone wrong. The sun gets blocked out by ash from volcanic eruptions, global temperatures drop, civilization is now in chaos but while humans can be dangerous in this new world. The things made of nightmares that come from the dark are worse.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/794927.rss

9/18: The Crooked Gavel (Dramatised - Crime/Mystery)
Site: https://www.crookedgavelproductions.com/gavel
Synopsis: Alice Cinnamon quickly discovers that no lawyer will help her find justice after the influential Judge John Cayenne sexually assaults her during a time when it was barely illegal to do so. Along the way, she meets Margaret Cumin, the peppy and knowledgeable wife of a lawyer. Though not technically a lawyer herself, Margaret is the only one with both the ability and the will to help Alice in her legal battle. Together, they fight to set a precedent of jail time for violent crimes against women, and find something unexpected along the way.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.transistor.fm/the-crooked-gavel

9/18: White Privilege: Radio Play (Dramatised - Slice of life)
Site: https://www.whiteprivilegeradioplay.com/
Synopsis: As Black networks pass on hiring light-skinned Black and Jewish reporter, Ashley Allen, ultra-conservative news network, Sly News, can't tell that Ashley's a woman of color. Instead of revealing the truth, Ashley decides to pass as white.
RSS Feed: https://feeds.simplecast.com/_aUa2RCD

9/19: Rodriguez and Silversmith (Fiction - Comedy)
Site: https://soundcloud.com/interview50/tracks
Synopsis: Featuring bitter ex husbands, cocaine satanist cults, drag queens, violence, and an Indiana Jones type archeologist/museum expert as the lead.

9/19: TaleTop (RPG - Fantasy)
Site: https://anchor.fm/taletop
Synopsis: We are five LGBTQIA+ artists who play TTRPGs once per month! Five intrepid souls battle undead horrors and a mysterious assailant in the shifting Ban-Koreh Desert. Join Caeles, Tuya, Nahoko, Aldwyn, and Ana on their whirlwind adventure: Vultures in Koreh!
RSS Feed: https://anchor.fm/s/30433bd8/podcast/rss
submitted by thecambridgegeek to audiodrama [link] [comments]


2020.09.09 22:18 Smyrlar 31 [M4F] EST/Anywhere - Life is a journey. Time is a river. The door is ajar.

Congratulations! If you're reading this post, you've lucked out on one of the rare instances where my loneliness overtakes misanthropy. Since I haven't found any posts to respond to that seem like the poster would mesh with me (unsurprising, since a personality that meshes with mine would also be lurking instead of posting), here's my own post instead. In the interests of time and laziness, heres a categorized list of me:

Hobbies

Personality

Lifestyle

Reddit

This is a lurker account, so there's basically no history here. If you're disappointed that there is no reddit history to lurk through, some subreddits my main account are subbed to include:
So what am I looking for? Someone to chat with through the day, share interesting/funny internet finds, discuss absurd plot points in various media, play games together - you know, the usual. Even though this is /foreveralonedating, I'm currently more focused on the foreveralone part than the dating part, although I'm not opposed to either. If it seems like we have similar personalities and interests, send a PM and not a chat request - since this is not my main account I'll only see messages notifications.
submitted by Smyrlar to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]


2020.09.08 18:37 rodgercattelli OPA Letter From the Provost - Important Spring Semester information

This is the letter from the Office of Public Affairs, Letter from the Provost David Shaw. Of note, there is some particularly important information for the spring semester in this, so please read up and plan accordingly. I've added emphasis to the section students will find most pressing.
This week, again, I want to start with another huge thank you. Three weeks into the semester, we are holding our own! We had a solid plan in place, and to this point the plan has worked well. It is great to have students back, even under such abnormal circumstances. Our faculty and staff have done a magnificent job in making this first three weeks of the semester successful. So at a deeply personal level, I want to express my appreciation to each and everyone one of you.
Recently a memo went out to all employees, informing you of mental health resources available to all employees and your families. The pandemic, coupled with attempting to do our jobs in such a difficult environment, has created a great deal of stress, and we are working to further enhance our support system for emotional needs. Please see https://www.hrm.msstate.edu/benefits/eap/. I’d encourage everyone to give a special measure of grace to those you work with or supervise, and to focus on what is mission-critical for the university this fall rather than expecting the same as in BC (before COVID) times.
We are continually updating the COVID-19 website, and recently added new FAQs, and also an explanation of the decision-making process for any actions to suspend classes or quarantine groups of students in residence halls or Greek houses. Check out the latest information at https://www.msstate.edu/covid19.
It was wonderful to see the announcement in the news over the weekend that OCH Medical Center (on that date) had zero COVID-19 patients! Given the increase in our population with the students back on campus, that is a strong statement of how well we are all following guidance on precautionary measures for health safety. We can’t let our guard down, but I wanted to thank everyone for making health safety your priority.
This past week we began using an additional hotel property for isolation and quarantine purposes, the Fairfield Inn & Suites in Columbus. Having this property allows for ample time for the cleaning & sanitization and turnover of rooms as students leave these facilities. We have heard some reports of slow internet connectivity in the Comfort Suites property. These issues are intermittent, and we are working with the property owners to address this concern. Should you hear of an issue, please encourage the student to call the 24/7 staffed phone line at 662-325-4140. We have internet hotspots available to assist in these instances.
Believe it or not, we are already beginning to plan for a winter intersession and the spring semester. The winter intersession will be a full five-week term, similar to a summer session. Reception to this idea has been strongly positive, and will give our students whose lives have been disrupted the opportunity to take a course or two to help them stay on track for graduation. For the spring semester, our fundamental assumption is that it will need to be similar to the fall, with a mix of face-to-face, hybrid, and online courses. We are planning to eliminate spring break, thus shortening the semester by a week. Much more information has been and will be provided to your deans and department heads in the next couple of weeks.
In closing, I appreciate the words of encouragement that many have sent. I also appreciate the feedback and concerns that others have expressed, and ask that all of you continue to feel free to share your thoughts, concerns and ideas in whatever mechanism that works best for you.
Stay Healthy and Hail State! David Shaw Provost and Executive Vice President Mississippi State University
submitted by rodgercattelli to Msstate [link] [comments]


2020.09.07 04:15 Deethreekay In Progress Karakuri Write-Up

So, I’m a little salty because I’ve just gone on a 4 game win streak in legend 5, only to then lose six times in a row and be back down to legend 3 the last being an instant disconnect despite having a perfect internet conneciton. No warning, no lag, nothing just poof, disconnect lose.
Anyway, thought I’d do an in progress Karakuri write up, part as an intro for others who haven’t run the deck, part so people who’ve had more success than I've had to date can offer me advice.
First of all, deck list below with some notes on choices.
Skill: Restart
Have also played with level augmentation but when the deck bricks, it bricks HARD. It can however play through the drawback of restart if it has the right starting hand, so restart adds a lot to the consistency.
Monsters (10):
2x Kunamzan. I’d playtest three if I had three, but don’t want to run through the box again. The card is great for making plays of a single Inashichi but can be brick in hand if you don’t draw monsters to make plays with it. I’m unsure if I’d run three if I had it. The main advantage being you can summon a second copy with Burei to make a Bureido off off an opening Ninishi and Merchant play. You can then use Burei to change another karakuri’s battle position to plus one of Bureidos effect, while still having a third in the deck for follow up plays with Merchant as needed. If you do this combo without three copies of Kunazaman any follow up Merchants you draw are a lot weaker.
2x Nisamu, most useful of the level 4s. If you brick hard you can at least set him to float into something or float into himself to provide protection against multiple attacks.
3x Merchant- self explanatory, and the main reason the deck has any chance of being a contender. Can search any Karakuri card. Most common target being Kunamzan for an instant Burei, otherwise Cash Inn or Anatomy depending on what’s
3x Ninishi, the other play makeextender. Ninishi + Nisamu = Burei, Samurai Destroyer, Zeta if need.
General notes: all the non-synchro Karakuris have the effect that they must attack if able. This is a significant liability. The plus side is they all change battle position when attacked, which means they’re safe to leave in attack mode on turn one. It also means Nisamu can wall your lifepoints provided they’re not using a piercer like Purgatrio. Both Kunamazan and Ninishi will switch battle positions regardless of whether they’re in attack or defence, which is problematic for Ninishi in particular because it has zero attack.
Spells (8):
2x Hey, Trunade!
2x Cosmic Cyclone, backrow hate. Both these cards are used to clear backrow which is the main headache for this deck.
2x Karakuri Cash Cache, makes a single Ninishi in hand a decent opening hand, allowing you to pull Merchant to get the combos rolling.
2x Offering to the Doomed, interrupt combos, get rid of bigger monsters. Karakuri’s ability to search and special summon monsters from the deck make it easier to play around its drawback.
Traps (2):
2x Karakuri Cash Inn, negates monster effects, is quick play a/d changer in the grave. All around great support card, downside being both effects require a karakuri on the field.
Synchros:
2x Burei, The main synchro target. Easy to put out via Merchant and Kunamzan
1x Bureido, don’t get him out that much other than when having a godly hand turn one. Main problem is he’s basically a vanilla most of the time, and the easiest way to get him out is off a Ninishi and Kunamzan, and as I only have two Kunamzan, it severely limits my follow ups.
1x Samurai Destroyer, answer to a lot of problematic cards. Floats into itself or any of the Karakuris when banished/destroyed.
1x Zeta, just a useful card and another way to get rid of problematic big beaters.
1x Super Heavy Samurai Musashi. Can synchro off Merchant and Ninishi, then return either to the hand. Can then synchro with Ninishi into Bureido.
Other notable card options:
Karakuri Anatomy: the archetypes ‘Pot of Greed’, I was running this card for quite a while but often found it bricking my hand more often than it extended my plays. Unlike other archtype draw engines like Cards of Consonance or Solar Recharge it doesn’t get you going, you already need a viable play before its of any use. In which case this becomes something of a ‘win more card’. Even in circumstances where I could get two counters on the card, I was finding myself hoping to draw into Cash Inn with its effect, when in reality it would have been simpler just to pull Cash Inn with merchant to begin with. Ended up swapping it out for a second Cosmic Cyclone.
Karakuri Gold Dust: Haven't tried it, but may consider. Extra OTK ability and being able to run over bigger monsters seems like a good time.
Karma Cut: I had run this in previous iterations, but traded it out for offerings to the doomed. I’m undecided which is better, as each have their advantages/disadvantages. Offerings being a quick play spell means it’s immediately live. This helps with certain matchups like Witchcrafters by eliminating Verre straight away to follow through with the OTK uninterrupted. Not having to discard is often a boon as well, as Karakuri do not utilise the graveyard (other than banishing Cash Inn) they get no benefit from Karma Cut’s discard and often there’s no good options for the discard. Banishing is obviously more beneficial than destroying in most instances however.
Gama Oil: Ran it for a bit, but cut it because it bricked my hand too many times. That being said it gives the deck some recovery that it lacks and the attack boosts can stack quickly (both Synchros go over 3000 attack with a single boost)
Star Eater, can use instead of Zeta, and can be made off of Bureido and Ninishi. Ran it for a while but considering I rarely go into Bureido, didn’t make much sense and is rather resource heavy.
Matchups:
Blue-eyes, 50/50. Really depends on how both players start. They’re backrow heavy, and I’ve lost plenty of matches not drawing any back row removal and having them Ultimate Providence/Karma Cut/Raigeki Break merchant. However if you draw into/CC, or they don’t draw their backrow, it’s easy to run straight through them by flipping stone into attack with Burei. Cash Inn is also very useful in the matchup, allowing you to negate a summoned Sage’s effect, and save your monsters from attacks from blue eyes so you can run over them the following turn.
Shiranui 50/50. Again the backrow is a pain. If they open with a single Spectralsword it’s relatively easy to run them over provided they don’t have the backrow to stop you/you draw trunade. Their low defense makes them an easy target for running over once switched with Burei or Cash Inn.
Witchcrafter 60/40. Probably in your favour, but again there’s a bit of luck with draws. Destroying Verre with Offerings you can then do your plays uninterrupted. Cash Inn on Verre then you can also switch her to attack and easily run her over. Main issue is being able to set up your board as if they negate Ninishi or Merchant and you don’t have a follow up you’re basically screwed.
Lunalight: Hard to give this one a rating. I’d say generally in Karakuri’s favour but the issue is Sabre Dancer. The only out this deck has is to summon Samurai Destroyer, attack dancer and activate offerings after Samurai’s effect kicks in. Otherwise, it’s pretty easy to stop their plays with cash inn, destroy Cat Dancer with Samurai Destroyer etc.
Aroma: Ugh. I’ve played them twice and lost both. But I think part of that was just bad luck as both set up their full board of backrow on the by the second turn. Dried wins is a pain and there’s not much we can do about it other than hope to draw into CC.
Invoked Neos: 50/50. I’m noticing a theme here. Again they’re backrow heavy. We can negate Dragon Magic with Cash Inn, which can stop their plays early. But they can also stop us dead by back-rowing merchant so drawing S/T card hate is key. Neos can be switched to defense to run over with the synchros.
Cyber Dragon: Probably favourable, didn’t see it much. Negating Core hurts them. Easy to run them over in a single turn when drawing into trunade.
Elementsabres: Bit of a pain if they go first and have the dark guy whose name currently alludes me. Continually having your monsters flipped facedown hurts, but winable if you draw into your backrow removal. I found Nisamu quite useful here, setting him so you can float into Ninishi and then having multiple avenues for plays gets around the flipping face down problem. Relatively easy if you go first and set up your board.
Blackwings: Found this about 50/50 as well. Cash inn can negate rain sprinkling, it’s just then a matter if you can finish them on the following turn. Blackwing Close is obviously a problem, as is them building a full board of synchros.
Dark Magician: if they get their perfect hand turn one there’s not much that can be done. As banishing your first summon pretty much spells doom for the deck. Going first it’s much easier, and there’s always truande/CC to force navigation/remove circle.
Conclusions:
The deck has a strong ability to OTK and has a number of ways to interrupt plays on your opponents turn thanks to Offerings/Karma Cut and Cash Inn. Its main drawback is its extreme vulnerability to backrow. In that respect, it feels like a deck that came a little too late. And had it been around in metas less heavy with generic backrow, it would have made more of a splash. Some people have been flouting its strength, some saying it’s crap, but I think it cuts the middle ground. As noted from the matchups, most games are 50/50 and it depends who draws better, with Karakuri often liking going first to set up the board uninterupted. Certain cards are problematic (Cocytus, sabre dancer) but the deck has at least one out to pretty much everything. I also feel the deck will get weaker as people learn it's plays. I've won matches because rather than destroying my merchant to stop my plays dead, people have let me play out the synchro and instead destroyed my burei. But as Burei SS'd a Ninishi I just summoned another one. I've also had mutliple people destroy the monster targetted by Cash Cache even though it doesn't block its search.
It has trouble dealing with Monsters with more than 2600 attack and defence, but there are thankfully few of these in the meta.
I've always liked the Karakuri play style so I'll keep pushing forward with it to KoG eventually, and one day soon I'll hopefully remember to stop forcing myself to suicide my low level monsters.

So yeah, those are my thoughts on the deck. Happy to take any advice from people who have already KoG'd with it to improve my plays.
submitted by Deethreekay to DuelLinks [link] [comments]


2020.08.30 13:21 JamieU_ The beauty and wonder of MMO Player housing

One of the most fascinating elements of an mmorpg has to be player housing. In the very first mmorpgs, a player’s main activities consisted of finding equipment, wearing equipment and travelling with other players to defeat monsters. That was about the extent of an early mmorpgs purpose. Over time, players have expressed a desire for other elements to be implemented into their favourite online world and one desire that has been voiced for over 2 decades has to be player housing. After all, it answers every player’s two basic questions, ‘Where do I put my stuff (and show them off to others) and where can I chill out?’
History
Player housing implementations within mmorpgs have changed over time however the core game mechanics of player housing still remain constant. Let’s look at player housing implementations historically.
First mmorpg age
In what could be considered as the first mmorpg age, i.e. the age of the text based multi-user dungeons (aka muds), there are two types of player housing commonly implemented,
1) Inn rooms
2) Individual player houses.
Inn rooms were rooms that could be rented from an non-player character (npc) in each major city, (cheaper than player houses), while individual player houses could be placed by purchasing a land deed standing in a particular world room square and once purchased, a portal would be created onto the overland world map (not in instanced areas), that would say this is player x’s house. When anyone entered this portal, they would be teleported to the player’s house instance, in particular to the front door.
The main purpose of housing in this age was to store items and sometimes small perks could be purchased such as shortcut exits to a few key areas, (usually one house door (exit) lead to the main starting city of the mmorpg for the players race).
The best part of this age in terms of player housing I felt (apart from the item storing ability) were 2 fold,
1) Players could rent inn rooms if they had less gold
2) Players could purchase their own house or castle that, while instanced, was linked to a portal that appeared in the main world map that every other player could see and enter (enter to the usually locked and npc guarded front door).
Second mmorpg age
Looking at the second mmorpg age, (i.e. 2D isometric mmorpgs, one of the most popular examples being Ultima Online), the core purpose of player housing is still mostly consistent with the first age, i.e. player housing primarily provides a place to store items and provide small perks, such as a few shortcut exits to places in the world map. However an added main purpose came into this age, and that was the ability to show off stored items and furniture. In fact, there are many internet discussions on the subject of player house decorating as evidence of this, particularly in the case of Ultima Online.
Inn rooms sort of disappeared during this age, I don’t remember seeing inn rooms as a player housing option, maybe developers were unsure how to make the inn bigger and smaller in response to player demand, however individual player housing flourished.
Around the year 2000 or so when I was playing Ultima Online during its days of immense popularity, I vividly remember my main problem with buying a player house was finding a spare land spot to place it. There were so many players on each server, and player housing was not instanced, so every house took up space on the world map, leaving hardly any space for anything else, even walking. The overcrowding issue became so bad that the resultant landscape looked like a mess of houses placed so close there was barely room to move between them, if we wanted to get from point A to point B.
A number of years ago, when looking back on this time, I realised that player housing which linked to the world map would only work if those player houses were each in a separate instance and there was a mage portal type of object which linked the player house instance to the world map location. (The portals visibility could be toggled on or off in order to keep the landscape visually clean and uncluttered.)
To date, and in my opinion, Ultima Online still has the most comprehensive system of player housing (including land deeds, etc) to date. Granted, the graphics are outdated, (who else secretly desires that UO developers would make a 3D version, apart from myself), yet the core mechanics of the system are as good as many of today's mmo player housing implementations, in some areas, even better.
Third mmorpg age
Coming to today’s player housing implementation, i.e. the third age, (third age sounds a bit tolkien-ish, hmm), the 3 best advances in player housing potentially are;
1) Player housing locations
Generally these days, players in some mmorpgs are not confined to special housing areas where everyone’s houses are placed side by side, they can now be built and linked to the landscape in most any location and this is a great implementation. After all, if we want to have a player house in the dark forests of Arndelm, then we should be able to do that. If we want to build a player house on a mountaintop area, overlooking the vast jungle like valley of Ern, then we should be allowed to do that.
It appears that developers are increasingly allowing players to build houses almost anywhere they like (not in instanced areas), and once more start to realise that a mage-like portal linking the front door of the house to the world map will prevent the landscape being cluttered, I think the player house system will increasingly become attractive to players (as players will be able to place their houses in more locations).
2) Ability to place furniture
If we want to look up a great example of housing furniture placement system, then Elder Scrolls Online would be something great to look at. (Watch one of the furniture placement videos for this mmorpg, they have a great placement system). One of the biggest advances in player housing in mmos today has been the increasing versatility in placing housing items, trophies, furniture and other items and the user interface to allow the player to place housing items has greatly improved to the point of being ‘very exciting.’
3) An increasing range of template houses
There has been an increasing understanding that an easy way to implement player housing is to develop a number of template houses, with each housing template being slightly different for each player race and having two or three general categories, such as single floor, double floor, castle. Players then simply buy a land deed for the spot of land where they want the house to appear, gather the building materials for the house, and it will then appear on that land spot, with all the collisions inside the house configured correctly, example, we can walk up and down stairs, open and close doors, and cannot walk through house walls. One of my favourite pastimes when looking at player housing posts is seeing the rapidly expanding number of template houses that are appearing in mmorpgs today.
Method of linking player housing to world map
There is one issue today that I would like to briefly mention in relation to today's player housing implementations in mmorpgs and that is the method of linking the house to the world map. It can be summed up in 2 points, as a suggestion,
1) Every player house should be inside its own instance
I think placing each player house inside its own instance rather than occupying real estate in the world map is more beneficial than cluttering up the world map landscape. Some of my earliest mmorpg playing comes from an age where the landscape was so cluttered by player houses that players could hardly navigate their way through the world map, not to mention, the almost impossible situation of trying to find a location suitable for purchasing their house.
Having each player house inside its own instance fixes the overcrowding house issue and also has other benefits, such as player housing instances can become bigger over time allowing more items (such as when mmo expansions occur), as well as allowing greater flexibility for players to place different items in their housing instances (front yard, back yard, etc).
For example, in my player house I would like to plant a garden at the front of the house, a fruit tree on either side, construct a white picket fence at the front and have a small fishing area of water out the back. (In a player house instance, all imagined player housing functionality is possible).
2) Every player house instance is linked to the world map through a portal
A simple mage like portal would appear in the landscape at the place where the house front door links to the world landscape. Pressing ‘v’ would toggle visibility of player housing portals on and off, allowing landscapes to remain uncluttered as well as accommodating player desires to build their houses in many scenic landscape locations.
Suggested components of a player housing system
Finally, a brief listing of what could be considered important components of a player housing system.
1) Land deed system
Players choose where they want their house to be linked to the real world, through purchasing a land deed for that location. Land deeds are sold by an npc vendor to the player. Land deeds can be traded and bought/sold between players once initially purchased from the npc.
2) Method of building the house
Rather than just purchasing a house template after buying a land deed, players would then accumulate the various quantities of metal, wood and stone needed for constructions, and once they have enough units of each, can then build their house at their land deed location.
3) Housing item placement method
A comprehensive and easy to use user interface which allows players to place furniture and other housing items is important. An excellent example I saw recently was a video on Elder Scrolls Online house furniture placement. After all, a player house is not to simply store items, such as a bank does, it is to show them off as well. A good placement system means the resulting player house will look like the house we imagined when we first decided to purchase a land deed.
4) Method of house maintenance
To keep game servers clean in terms of housing data, there would need to be a housing decay system where if players leave and as a result do not pay land tax, the house would decay and cease to exist. (the land deed for that location would re-appear in the npc vendors shop). An excellent example of a house maintenance system can be seen in Ultima Online.
5) Templates
A number of templates of player houses should be designed, so that collision detection works correctly when players purchase and build their houses. E.g. players can walk up and down stairs, place furniture, open and close doors, and not walk through house walls. Templates should, as a suggestion, include templates based on player race, and several house types such as single floor, double floor, castle.
6) Shortcut key to toggle visibility of housing portals in the world landscape
If player house mage-like portals are always visible in the world landscape, this won’t fix the problem that Ultima Online had, that of the landscape becoming cluttered and unsightly. There should be a simple shortcut key to toggle on and off the visibility of housing portals in the landscape. Also when visibility is toggled on, while all housing portals would appear visibly in the landscape, they would show only the portal and the player created title above it, such as “The Gardens”, “Repair shop,” or perhaps “Waterfall cottage.” If a person then left clicks a particular housing portal, more information on that particular player house would appear in a tooltip.
Summary
In summary, I find one of the most fascinating elements of mmorpgs is how their player housing system is implemented. Some mmorpgs today that have player housing implemented include Ultima Online, Elder Scrolls Online, Albion Online, Rift, Lord of the Rings Online, and while each has a partly different implementation, overall it is a system which can greatly involve players and be expanded in so many ways, to the delight of the player.
An exciting point concerning today's mmorpgs is this, if we search player housing mmorpg articles, we can find that, in the last few years, there has been rapid development in this area and an increasing amount of developers have been placing some type of player housing system in their mmos.
Now we can actually sit on a chair in our two story Elven themed house overlooking a beautiful waterfall set in the world landscape and sip on our favourite mead. Oh the joy!
If you have seen any parts of a player housing system that you really liked and found worked well, let us know.
TLDR;
MMORPG Player housing discussion.
3 ages of mmorpgs and common player housing implementation during each age
Suggested components of player housing.
submitted by JamieU_ to mmodesign [link] [comments]


2020.08.18 00:26 final_Report I Unearthed A Family History That Should Have Stayed Buried

My name is Tomas and my story starts with death.
Perhaps it’s a sad form of irony that my story starts with the least noteworthy death of all. What a joke to have my life thrown in a maelstrom over little more than the soft and timely death of an old man.
These last few weeks I’ve carried a cold shiver with me I can’t seem to shake. It’s nestled in my spine as if that too isn’t mine anymore. Occasionally it comes out of hiding and races up my neck where it makes the hairs stand up as a fit of rage creeps up from the depth of my being. I never should have started this madness. I must tell my story now. As I fear I might not be able to for much longer. There is just one question left. The one that brings me only terror: “Does this story also end with death?”
I’ll start from the beginning: As some of you know I’m a film student. As my school final’s project I started making a documentary about my grandfather. About the town he grew up in. Szonomy - that tiny isolated mountain dwelling that saw such horrors during the 1930s. Horrors that should have remained buried between the unforgiving Hungarian rocks.
It was only after my grandfather’s recent death that I came to know of the horrible things that took place there. Suffice to say that newspaper records and the internet did little to lift the veil of mystery. Ultimately, I’ve found no other option than to visit the town myself.
Now, when my grandfather passed away one of the first things that went through my head was the vivid realization that his passing didn't invoke much emotion in me. Perhaps least of all sadness. When my mother told me I’m sure she could read the lack of shock or grief on my face clear as day. Yet she didn't make a point out of it. She knew as well as anyone that he had always been the kind of man who you could count on to lash out violently on occasion. Sometimes he lashed out over minor things, sometimes he lashed out over nothing in particular. The way I sat on the couch, or the perfume my mother wore once in a while. His bitter brand of sadism seemed to only grow worse as he sank deeper into his dementia in the last number of months. Some part of me hoped that as he slid further and further out of his own mind, the anger would leave with him. But in the end it seemed like the anger was all that was left of him.
“Isn’t it sad, that when all is said and done, all that was left of his personality were the sharp edges?” she said one night over a leftover dinner. We shared an uneasy silence, both accepting the creeping sense of relief at his absence. I didn’t respond to her statement, knowing that even now she just wasn’t the kind of mother to accept me talking negatively about family. She knew how horrible of a man he could be, but over the years I learned that her gripe with him stemmed mainly from the passing of my own father and not just his attitude towards her or me. Her conflict with him was one of loss, not one of fear, like mine had always been. My father and his father had been in an accident before I was old enough to really remember. Not much I knew of the accident, only that my mother had been suspicious and at one point accused my grandfather of being at least partially responsible or negligent. In his stubbornness he had since never again allowed the topic to be brought up. We simply never spoke of it again. The years, she said, had turned him from a harsh and mean man to the cruel, sadistic man I had come to know him for.
The reason I’m telling all this is to provide the background of how I came to find the story I was to be investigating for my documentary. You see, we always kept close to my grandfather, despite his behaviour and his seemingly unrelenting attempts to push us away, because plainly put: he had no one else, and neither did my mother and I. After his death I was forced to go through the motions of the funeral and the inheritance, which all was more a dull and bland pile of paperwork than a time of tears and memories. I had much preferred if I could move on and not having had to partake in the formalities of his death, but I also knew that doing so would put the full burden on my mother’s shoulders alone. There also wasn’t that much to do. Scarcely anyone knew him, and so the ceremony could be held in a small rented room in the back of the funeral parlor. The bulk of the process was in taking care of his property and belongings. We had decided to rent a truck and move all of his valuables to a storage facility, bring the rest to the recycling center and then sort through his belongings on our own time while the house could be put up for sale. It was during those few days that I got to know my grandfather like I never had before.
We had hardly ever had a genuine conversation. Most often he was tense. Gripping the arms of his leather sofa so tensely it looked like he was doing his best to not explode at any moment. Over time I learned to just avoid catching his attention entirely. So to see his old records, his books, to feel his ‘off-limits’ leather sofa that still carried the dent of his weight under my fingers, to dig through all his pictures and trinkets without haste, without having to fear his croaking voice thundering at me from behind at any moment, it somehow gave me more of a feeling of being connected to him than when he was alive. It was as if I could at last form some sort of understanding of the person he had been. He had become more real in my head than he was when he was sitting right in front of me; His stone face in his aged leather seat, his knuckles greyish white from years of aging and equally from years of anger, a frown carved so deeply on his forehead it made me wonder if it could even leave his face had there been no one around to annoy him.
Not a huge deal of his belongings seemed valuable enough to keep or sell. He had the usual vintage furniture that I knew would fetch a couple hundred at least. The usual outdated bits of art and decoration. Some vintage stuff I could easily sell on Ebay like his old safety razor set. We managed to get all of it in one small storage unit with room to spare. It was partially because of this that I decided to keep one box that would otherwise be thrown out with the rest of the trash. I had filled it up mostly with items from his desk. Little items that were probably of some sentimental value. Some folders and documents I didn’t have the time to go through then and there. The folders came from a locked compartment of his desk, that I managed to break open with a screwdriver. Along with the yellowed papers there was one lone trinket in the compartment. A type of amulet or penchant, perhaps. It seemed gold, but at the same time dirtied and dull-looking. A tad primitive looking, as well. Clearly not crafted by a skilled goldsmith. I made a mental note to try and clean it up when I got home and see if I could find out what style or origin it had.
Once home the box landed in my bedroom. My mother couldn’t bring up the energy to refuse after I remarked that perhaps it mentioned my father in some way. After dinner I decided to sit down and go through the papers. It had only been a minute or two of reading before I sprinted down the stairs and showed my mother what I had found. “I never knew this much,” she muttered with her eyes wide as saucers. “You knew and never told me?” I asked, almost offended. Her apology came so soft and vulnerable that my heart dropped a little, but she continued: “This is the town your grandfather grew up in. I knew strange things had happened over there, but your father knew as little as me, and neither of us bothered to pry. You know how he was, your grandfather, I mean.”
My mother picked up one of the few pictures from the table. One of my grandfather as a young boy with his mother and sister. It’s not a clear picture at all. Half of it has aged so badly you can barely make out the faces. I held up the amulet and pointed to the boy’s hand on the picture. He was unmistakably holding the same peculiar object I was holding. She gave me a look of surprise and flipped the picture over. “Mother and Mary, who love me so dearly, mother and Mary, who never come see me;” she read aloud. I took the picture from her hands and read the words I had missed the first time. It was written sloppily, almost frantic, even for a child’s handwriting. I looked at my mother confusedly. As she explained I learned yet another bit about my grandfather’s life. There was some sort of medical issue or accident when he was in his early teens that forced his family to send him to a hospital. He had spent years there until he was better, and by the time he was released he was old enough to start his own life as an adult. Considering what I know of the town of Szonomy, his family was probably too poor to visit him frequently.
Szonomy. 1926. A small huddled collective of mountaineers and mineworkers where my great-grandmother gave birth to a baby boy that we were preparing for burial over ninety-two years later. The isolated hub depended on hunting and foraging as much as it did on the monthly merchant’s caravan from the nearest city. Safe for stereotypes it was indeed an impoverished and harsh living, like most of the region at the time. This all I learned from the internet. Not much else turned up there. The bulk of what I learned came from the contents of the box in my bedroom. The oldest newspaper clipping is dated at 1938. It details a series of events that can be called disturbing at the very least, that according to the paper clipping had been occurring for up to three years before the first report. Combining the information from the other documents tells me that the first incident likely occurred in 1934. Making my grandfather, at the time a boy of eight, a witness to it all. I feel ashamed for saying it: but this was the first time I wished my grandfather hadn’t passed away. If only so he could have satiated my curiosity.
From what I had gathered through a few hours of searching online the town priest was sentenced to hanging for the disappearance and murder of several children. One of the victims was the priest's own bastard child. The town had endured years of child disappearances and as they grew more and more frequent a message was sent to the nearest city, who sent a team of investigators along with the next caravan up to Szonomy. The priest was accused of the crimes and hanged after a thorough investigation. This by itself seemed like more than enough to create my documentary around. I assumed that most likely there was nothing more I could find since it happened so long ago. But even in that worst case scenario I figured I could turn it into a disturbing handheld urban exploration type thing and maybe I’d learn a cool thing or two about my own family history in the process.
I relayed the idea to my teacher who approved and signed off on my equipment loan slip which allowed me to borrow pretty high-end film equipment for a few weeks.
My mom (entirely elated) jumped at the chance to get me out of the house and more specifically out of this unpleasant situation. She gave me some cash and her card and suggested I find a cheap hotel near Szonomy and take my time exploring the area.
Pretty soon though, things took a turn for a kind of darkness I’m still not sure I can stomach.
I ended up making it to Szonomy a few days later than I had hoped. Some issues came up with the inheritance and I had a pretty big fight with my mom which is pretty rare for us. The first day wasn’t very eventful. I arrived in the town late afternoon and immediately started shooting the surroundings so I’d have enough footage to use as filler. The town was indeed still in use, but just barely. One pebbled main road was all there was in terms of infrastructure. Most of the buildings were derelict or run down, most of them seemed so old my grandfather could have lived in them. It was like walking through a time capsule. The grinding poverty permeated every inch of the town, even after a century. The town was far from large, but the way in which it was laid out across the mountainous terrain, and the way the functioning buildings were littered between the abandoned ones made it hard to find my way around.
Finally I made my way to something that looked like a bar or a convenience store. Once inside I was greeted by a tall woman built like a brick house, with grey streaks in greasy, black curls who asked me if I wanted a room. “This is it. The only inn in town. I’ll have your bags brought up to room 7. It’s far too late to start now,” She said in a stern, but friendly tone, not offering a moment of silence for me to chime in. I was taken by surprise, but I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to stay the night in Szonomy pass me by. It turns out hikers and climbers frequently pass there as a start and return point. Not much else happened that evening. I went to bed pretty early after it started to get too cold and dark to mess about in the middle of nowhere.
I made my way downstairs this morning to find the innkeeper in a much better mood. She smiled and motioned at me to come over as she was standing behind the bar. She disappeared into the kitchen for ten or so minutes before coming back and sliding a large plate of eggs and toast in front of me, as well as a steaming cup of coffee I didn’t intend to drink.
“It’s none of my business but you know that these mountains aren’t the type to cross on your own, right? Are your friends coming later today?” I swallowed a mouthful of egg and admitted that I wasn’t actually there to climb. Her face turned into a questioning frown for a moment before she smiled again and responded “Well you must be in a rough place in your life if you ended up here for no reason.” It was then that I told her about my grandfather and the documents I had found. I wouldn’t have told her about the film project if she didn’t bring up that she saw me shooting earlier. She seemed pensive for a moment, let out a short sigh and opened up.
“The priest,” she mumbled, looking down at my untouched cup of coffee. “Yes, the priest. Terrible affair that was. The town never really recovered after that. Probably half of them left in the years after he was caught. From what I understand it was mostly the ones too poor to move that stayed. If not for them the town would have been deserted and forgotten by now.” Confused, I asked her why people moved after the priest had been dealt with. “I’ve lived here all my life, boy. And half of that time I’ve pondered on packing my bags and leaving just the same. It’s no surprise to me that they left. Most people also didn’t believe the lawmen. They were sure something dark slumbered in the town.” I looked at her puzzled, and she continued: “Most people saw the things that man did with their own eyes. They didn’t know it was him, sure, but they saw. They lived that fear for years, and then a few city folk came strutting around and in a few days decided it had been just a regular man who committed regular murders? The mayor believed and did his best to get the town to carry on and keep things going. But something broke in the town. It wasn’t the community it was before.”
All this time I had been taking notes, she didn’t seem to mind. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up in excitement. There was more to the story, even if it was just small town paranoia. I did my best to focus on what she was saying, but in the back of my mind I was already thinking of how I’d build up the narration and the imagery in the film. Eventually I took my shot and asked her specifically what the priest had done if not ‘just’ murder children.
According to the innkeeper during the first few disappearances most children would just vanish. The few that were found had horrific injuries, as if maimed by wild animals. The town demanded the mayor to solve the problem. Hunters were sent out to rid the mountainside predators, thinking the harsh winter had left them desperate enough for food that they ventured closer to the town than usual. The town had set up dozens of traps in the woods, until another child vanished. But this girl was found in one of the traps, hanging upside down from a springrope on a branch like a gutted pig. A wide tear in the side of her neck, a streak of dried blood running up her face and clotting streaks of her hair. Her skin morbidly greyish. The townspeople blamed the mayor for ordering to put up the traps, deciding that she must have stepped on one by accident and had been attacked by an animal as she hung struggling. But as the family undressed the girl to prepare her for burial they found the inside of her dress to be marked with coal. A hand full of black symbols. The other victims’ families retrieved the clothes their children were found in, and those too were marked. The markings had gone unnoticed because most of the fabrics had been blood soaked.
The town became convinced all the disappearances were the work of a demon after that. Paranoia grew, people kept their children indoors and so the mayor turned to his last hope: the priest. The priest started blessing all the houses, and ordered the parents to bring all the children to church and have them perform some sort of cleansing prayer. And sure, for a few months all seemed to be going well again. Nothing happened and reluctantly people started to loosen up again. It was perhaps half a year later that another child vanished. And soon after a second. Some of the townsfolk had conspired together to send a desperate letter with the next merchant caravan, without the knowledge of the mayor or the priest. Word had been going around town that the priest was seen in the woods at night, wandering aimlessly, and all confidence in the mayor had been lost. Their letter was meant for the church, who were asked to send an extortionist. The church, however, informed the police, who dispatched a team to investigate.
Surely, the priest was soon caught. But in what a state. The police had demanded to search all buildings they saw fit, the church itself was nothing more than a two story wooden building with a small bell tower. The search seemed straightforward at first, until the police demanded entry to the priest’s living quarters. The priest tried to resist, claiming it was an offence to a man of prayer, and soon he turned violent in protest. His living quarters turned up similar odd black symbols as on the dress of the young girl found hanging in the woods. The furniture had been rearranged against the walls, leaving a sizable empty space in the middle of the wooden floor, which was covered in carvings and candles. A large symbol was carved in the middle of the wall opposite the door. I asked the innkeeper if it was a pentagram or something similar, and though she said she wouldn’t be able to describe something she hadn’t personally seen, she knew to tell me it definitely wasn’t that. “More hooky and more ancient-looking,” she said, “A lot more complex.”
I doubted I’d ever manage to figure out what it was, but I made a note to myself to do some research online and show her some examples to see if she might know more than she realizes. The priest, by then already detained by the lawmen and in a delusional frenzy, swore up and down that he ‘did it for the town’ that they needed to allow him to finish his work. The creepiness didn't even end there. The priest was the murderer, no one in the town, nor the lawmen doubted that now. But it was after further search of the church that they found the rest of the bodies. Apparently the town had went to church every single Sunday, unaware that they were observing service right on top of half a dozen children's corpses. The excavations saw the whole wooden floor broken out. The town quickly agreed that they could never set foot in such an unholy place again and instead of repairing the floor, they chose to burn the entire building down.
Martuska (the innkeeper) offered to show me the location of the church ruins after she finished up around the inn. By that time it was already around noon and I’d had to make it to class the next day, so I set out to film as much as I could and try to catch some locals for an interview. Gleefully I kept adding to my to do list: I had to check out the nearest library for old newspaper copies. I planned to ask around to see if any locals would be willing to let me copy old photographs they had. Things were going better than expected, and I felt like I was about to make a real banger of a film.
The church is located ‘on top’ of the town in a sense. There’s a path that’s mostly overgrown that leads up to the area. Once when you get there there’s a clearing you can’t see very well from below, but I could almost feel it’s looming presence as I imagined it’s wooden form towering over the town. Standing up there I saw that the town was a little bit larger than I had thought. There were clusters of buildings, misshapen through time and partially reclaimed by the wild which I hadn’t seen before, spread somewhat sporadically across the area. The church is completely gone but the outline of the building is still visible in the form of a plot of dirt surrounded by a rusty fence about hip height. Martuska claims the town removed all evidence of the church and had tried to turn it into a flower field. Yet as the years distanced them further from the tragedy interest waned and survival in the poverty of isolated living proved a higher priority. The unrelenting foliage eventually took back what belonged to it by right of determination, and covered the location of the horrors once more.
As we descended down the path and made our way through the last of the bushes covering what was left of the trail I noticed a face in a window just for a split second before it pulled back between the curtains. I asked Martuska, who knew to tell me it was an elderly woman named Mary who was old enough to witness the incidents first hand. I asked if we could go talk to her. Martuska smiled and insisted that Mary was not the type to invite strangers in for tea, but that I could try if I felt like it. We said our goodbyes (during which she assured me I was welcome in her inn any time) and I made my way to Mary’s house.
She didn’t open the door immediately, even though I could clearly see her tiny silhouette behind the yellowed lace curtain of the window next to the door. When she did open it, it was only enough to see one eye, glaring at me. “You’re one of those sniffers, aren’t you?” She barked, with a tone so forceful it didn’t match her tiny figure and even less her wrinkled face. I managed to fumble out a confused “I’m sorry?” before she went on: “One of those mystery sniffers or diggers or whatever you lot call yourselves. Too curious, too careless. Prying in other people’s misery for your entertainment.”
Looking back at the trail behind me I knew I was about to lose the chance to talk to a real eye witness. Perhaps it wasn’t honest of me, but knowing what I know now it was what I had to do. And so I told her about my grandfather, that he grew up in this town, that he had recently passed away, and that he might have been related to her. She looked me up and down and after close to a minute of silence she opened her door wider with a winding wooden creek and beckoned me inside. I followed her into the sitting area and sat down as she brought a set of cups and a teapot on a platter and set it down on a small table between us. Only as she faced me again did I notice her headscarf covered most of her face. The scarf hung in such a way I could just make out one of her eyes and cheeks when she tilted her head to look at me. “Why did you go to see the flower garden?” she started, not bothering to poor me a cup of tea. I told her again of my grandfather, and said that he had left me a folder of documents. That I had come to see the town and that the innkeeper had just mentioned the church.
“No one just comes here to visit,” her voice icy but calm, “Who was your grandfather exactly?” There was another silence after I said I suspected she might have been his sister. She spoke quieter and even more stoic now: “I’m afraid you’ve come to me for nothing, child. I never had a brother.” Her one eye flickered up at me and narrowed. “You really are just a sniffer, aren’t you?” I couldn’t lie to this woman anymore, and let an apologetic “yes” escape my lips. It came out as nothing more than a dry whisper. “Well I think it’s time for you to go. It destroyed this town. And he destroyed my life.” “Did the priest hurt you too?” I pushed her, “No,” she nearly shrieked, “It.” She took my silence to regain her composure and nearly whispered: “When you’re close to a century old the days become so very short. Kindly leave me be now” She stood up and set the platter with unused tea cups back in the kitchen before nudging me towards the door. As I stepped outside and turned around to say goodbye she had already closed the door to a narrow slit again. Just enough for one half of her face and for her frail arm to offer me a small piece of paper. “A few months ago another one of you lot came by. I gave him all what I had left. Which is all my uncle left us after he passed. When I finally die, I don’t want to do it in a house filled with things that haunted me all my life. If you must know, talk to him. But never do knock on my door again.”
After this I returned home. It took me a while to continue my research. I’d been feeling under the weather and my mother and I had been fighting on and off. I guess it was mostly the stress of selling the house and what not but ever since she’s been getting on my nerves a lot. Of course, to her I am the problem. Either way, I did manage to reach out to Viktor, the ‘mystery sniffer’ whose business card I got from Mary. He was pretty eager to meet up. He’s not a filmmaker or a writer or anything of the sort. He really is just one of those people that chases cold cases and urban legends. A little later we managed to sit down together and share our findings. He was impressed by how much I managed to get out of the innkeeper. Apparently she wasn’t as accommodating towards him. He did get a lot more out of Mary, though. But I’ll keep that for later.
Let me just start from the top. Through his own research, stuff he got from Mary and conversations with other townsfolk Viktor found out a little bit more about the priest. He was named Jakab, for starters, and he settled in the town after half a life of traveling the world as a missionary. He had mainly traveled into South America, specifically seeking out small tribes to convert. Why this is important will come later. Now Jakab, aging over fifty, came to the mountain town with the caravan one day with a letter from the church mandating a chapel be built. He had enough with him to provide payment for half the town’s men and the structure was erected over the period of several weeks. During this time a young girl fell with child. Being unmarried she was a subject of mockery and shunning. The girl gave birth but took her own life out of shame only a few days later. She was found hanging in the woods behind her parental house. It is here that there is a lack of clarity and Viktor filled in the gaps, although knowing what I know now I agree that it is plausible.
Viktor seemed certain that the priest fathered the child and that the young mother had been his first victim in the town. That the woman had hidden her motherhood until she came knocking at his church door one night, child in arms. As a priest, surely, he could not be known as a man of lust, and in a fit of rage had taken her life.The priest (unable to harm a child) claimed it had been abandoned at his doorstep and offered to raise as his own and as time went on everyone referred to the child as the priest's son. Viktor had something far more tangible, though. Letters. Specifically letters from the priest to his son, the letters were delivered, but confiscated by the mayor. These were written as the priest was awaiting his hanging. A total of seven letters. Some written almost illegibly, some confusing messes of frantic writing. But Viktor had collected the most useful parts and laid them out for me. He was so kind as to offer high quality digital copies for my film. The letters provide an amazing insight into the priest’s thinking. It was as if sitting in front of him after so many years, and hearing his motivations first hand. It was clear he was delusional. You see, Jakab spent years in the jungles of South America. He lived with various tribes for extended periods of time. In some cases coming close to death, either by man, by beast or by nature. As he felt he neared the end of his life as a missionary, he set out to make contact with a tribe that had managed to evade him for all those years. A tribe feared by many others. Described as cannibals, as conjurers who used dark magic to ward off their foes. He decided that as a man of God he could not leave that continent without at least attempting to convert those he considered most unholy to the light.
In his letter he described in detail how in spite of searching for the tribe for months with no luck, he found them fairly easily on a certain day. A group of the tribe's hunters had been fishing in a river far closer to the edge of the jungle than they would usually venture, and as they saw him they seemed eager to make contact. The once elusive tribe welcomed him with open arms. He saw this as a sign of God that he was doing the right thing. They in turn seemed to see him as a God, they spoiled him with meats and succulent fruits. They sent him to a tent full of furs and young women for the night. He stayed with the tribe for weeks. For days and days they would not leave his side and took care of him. He was seated at the same table as the tribe chief and feasted from the same bowl
When the third week came they brought him to a cave. Suddenly suspicious he felt trapped, and feared he had only been set up for sacrifice or slaughter. The tribe elders brought him to a large cavern in the cave, where women dressed like priestesses lined the walls with torches. A large mark was drawn on the wall with ash and the ground was covered in similar white marks and symbols. Despite his fear the tribe elders told him of their prophecy. They were to bless the chosen one sent by the Gods. A man who was bred from clouds through their ritual. He felt that on a continent that knew not of white men they deemed his pale complexion as a sign of their prophecy. He was promised eternal riches as well as eternal life on earth. The priest, though weary, felt obliged to accept and allowed the ritual to be performed. Herbs were burned and concoctions were administered. Jakab fell into a waking dream filled with fever and terror. But early the next day Jakab awoke anew, in an empty tent for the first time since arriving to the tribe. Despite an ache from flesh to marrow, he was exalted about being alive still. As he ventured into the tribe there was clear tension in the air. There were no more feasts and no more laughter. No seat at the table and no more young women to warm his lap. Jakab was at once brought to the edge of the tribal land by a handful of men who made their intentions clear with threatening motions of their spears.
By now I had read all but two of the letters. I looked up at Viktor and he sat there grinning widely nodding his head as if to say “And?”. And, well.. I was excited. Yet at the same time my head hurt and I just wanted to get it over with and leave. I asked Viktor if he knew more of the tribe or the ritual. He instantly jumped up and dropped two thick books in front of me a few seconds later, as if he had been waiting for me to ask. “I did a lot of research,” he emphasized ‘research’ deeply. “I went through about a dozen books of South American history and tribal records. There are so many tribes, and honestly an incredible amount that routinely butchered or ate their enemies. So then I did random searches for recorded legends of the region and I found one story that seems to match up at least to some extent.”
Viktor didn’t give me the chance to respond as he continued in a raging fashion: “There is this story of a tribe that was plagued by a demon that would move from host to host within the tribe. The demon would live as a parasite within the heart of a man, only men, and would slumber. Every so often the spirit would awaken to feed, and drive the host mad with delusion until he did his bidding and satisfied the parasite’s thirst for death. Many men were killed, some others took their own lives, all in an attempt to stop the demon. But every time the killings would continue after at most a few years of peace. The tribe believed that the entity moved from host to host along the bloodline of the last host, giving preference to move from father to first-born son. Eventually the demon was known to live within a man with only one son, and as the tribe took the father’s life, they resolved to keep the boy confined to a cage. Eventually the boy was brought to a cave and a ritual was performed. The boy was sacrificed and the demon, with now nowhere to go, was trapped inside a cursed object. Viktor looked at me with that same enthusiastic grin that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
“How does this relate to-” before I finished my sentence Viktor continued, “The story ends with the tribe realizing that the cursed item could not eternally hold the demon, so they decided to lure a man from far away, with skin ‘pale as clouds’, and transferred the demon into him through ritual and send him off, so that their curse may torment another tribe.” I looked at Viktor in disbelief. Even though all of it seemed so outlandish, for some reason it just clicked in me. It just made sense. “So Jakab killed his own son because he feared the demon would possess him after his hanging?” Viktor looked at me quizzically for once. “What do you mean? He never killed his son.” I told him of the newspapers my grandfather had, and showed him a picture of them on my phone. “Oh, no. His son was definitely one of the victims. The priest was known to be a harsh man that would exact his anger on his son from time to time. He never murdered his son, though.” I asked Viktor about the son, and he motioned towards the last two letters. I read them quickly, and indeed, much more became clear to me. Jakab told this story to his son, and then tried to plead his innocence in the letters. He insisted the murders were the work of a demon and not him. He claimed the symbols in his living quarters were his attempt to perform a ritual to confine the demon to an object once more.
That icy shiver crept up my spine once more and turned to fire and needles as I neared the end of the letter: “My son. I am sorry that I have inflicted such a fate upon you. I should have ended your life a long time ago. When I still had the power to do so. I should have spared you what is now surely to come. He never allowed me, and now it is too late. You will endure, as I have, all he commands.”
“Isn’t this fucking mindblowing?” Viktor blurted out, his eyes darting across the collection of papers and pictures now scattered across the table. “What did happen to the boy, then?” I asked, in a tone far more demanding than I intended. A bit taken aback Viktor replied: “The poor kid had to witness the hanging of his own father. He was then adopted by the sister of the mayor. He lived there with her and her daughter. You remember Mary?”
“Mary?” I stared at him in awe. “Yes, that Mary. One night the town awoke to screaming from the girl’s house. The next day they insisted all was fine but when the daughter wasn’t seen for a few days the neighbours grew concerned and demanded to know what had taken place. The daughter had such extensive damage to her face that she hid herself under a headscarf. The town grew weary again and so the mayor made sure to assure everyone the girl had been attacked by their family dog which had been ‘taken care of'. Despite that the priest’s son was sent to the city mere days after to spend the rest of his days in a mental ward. His trail ends after a few years. He changed his name and went who knows where.” My head was pounding. I felt like all the pieces connected somehow. “Imagine if he had a son, and the demo-” I waved my hand to make Viktor stop talking without even looking at him. “Do you have a picture of the priest’s son?” I glanced up at him. I left soon after. Viktor reluctantly promised to send me copies of all the files before he slammed the door on me.
I had to call Viktor several times to pester him about the copies before he sent them. My mother is upset again as well. I feel so stressed. In front of me I have the badly preserved picture of my grandfather and his mother and sister and the picture of the priest and his son. The tension has been spinning around in my chest for hours because I just can’t put the pieces together even though in my gut it feels like I already know. It remains just outside my reach. As if my brain is trying it’s best to avoid whatever truth the story is still hiding from me. It feels like the priest is glaring right at me from the picture. His tall, lanky physique towering over his son. His rigid face covered in deep wrinkles only years of poor living and harsh winters can carve. His beady, dark eyes void of feeling, yet almost mocking. His thin lips like a mere crack in marble, dead, for decades, yet it looks like the corner of his mouth could curl up at any moment and send me into a fit of insanity.
And then I noticed something that made me want to vomit. Barely a few millimeters on the picture of the priest. But under the magnifying glass it’s unmistakable. Under the hem of the priest’s coat I can just make out the crooked edges of a rather odd but recognizable necklace, reflecting dimly. My head is spinning. It feels like my grandfather’s amulet is burning a hole in my chest, even though I am not even wearing it. It’s as if the dull glimmer of the sallow gold object in front of me on the desk is blinding my eyes, trying to pierce my mind. To force me to accept that which I know I can not live with. It’s cursed form eternally tied to an ancient evil through rituals beyond my comprehension.
In my mind, I’m terrified that it is true. But for some reason, in my chest, all I feel is an alien rage, thrashing around, demanding I acknowledge its presence.
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2020.08.18 00:25 final_Report I Unearthed A Family History That Should Have Stayed Buried

My name is Tomas and my story starts with death.
Perhaps it’s a sad form of irony that my story starts with the least noteworthy death of all. What a joke to have my life thrown in a maelstrom over little more than the soft and timely death of an old man.
These last few weeks I’ve carried a cold shiver with me I can’t seem to shake. It’s nestled in my spine as if that too isn’t mine anymore. Occasionally it comes out of hiding and races up my neck where it makes the hairs stand up as a fit of rage creeps up from the depth of my being. I never should have started this madness. I must tell my story now. As I fear I might not be able to for much longer. There is just one question left. The one that brings me only terror: “Does this story also end with death?”
I’ll start from the beginning: As some of you know I’m a film student. As my school final’s project I started making a documentary about my grandfather. About the town he grew up in. Szonomy - that tiny isolated mountain dwelling that saw such horrors during the 1930s. Horrors that should have remained buried between the unforgiving Hungarian rocks.
It was only after my grandfather’s recent death that I came to know of the horrible things that took place there. Suffice to say that newspaper records and the internet did little to lift the veil of mystery. Ultimately, I’ve found no other option than to visit the town myself.
Now, when my grandfather passed away one of the first things that went through my head was the vivid realization that his passing didn't invoke much emotion in me. Perhaps least of all sadness. When my mother told me I’m sure she could read the lack of shock or grief on my face clear as day. Yet she didn't make a point out of it. She knew as well as anyone that he had always been the kind of man who you could count on to lash out violently on occasion. Sometimes he lashed out over minor things, sometimes he lashed out over nothing in particular. The way I sat on the couch, or the perfume my mother wore once in a while. His bitter brand of sadism seemed to only grow worse as he sank deeper into his dementia in the last number of months. Some part of me hoped that as he slid further and further out of his own mind, the anger would leave with him. But in the end it seemed like the anger was all that was left of him.
“Isn’t it sad, that when all is said and done, all that was left of his personality were the sharp edges?” she said one night over a leftover dinner. We shared an uneasy silence, both accepting the creeping sense of relief at his absence. I didn’t respond to her statement, knowing that even now she just wasn’t the kind of mother to accept me talking negatively about family. She knew how horrible of a man he could be, but over the years I learned that her gripe with him stemmed mainly from the passing of my own father and not just his attitude towards her or me. Her conflict with him was one of loss, not one of fear, like mine had always been. My father and his father had been in an accident before I was old enough to really remember. Not much I knew of the accident, only that my mother had been suspicious and at one point accused my grandfather of being at least partially responsible or negligent. In his stubbornness he had since never again allowed the topic to be brought up. We simply never spoke of it again. The years, she said, had turned him from a harsh and mean man to the cruel, sadistic man I had come to know him for.
The reason I’m telling all this is to provide the background of how I came to find the story I was to be investigating for my documentary. You see, we always kept close to my grandfather, despite his behaviour and his seemingly unrelenting attempts to push us away, because plainly put: he had no one else, and neither did my mother and I. After his death I was forced to go through the motions of the funeral and the inheritance, which all was more a dull and bland pile of paperwork than a time of tears and memories. I had much preferred if I could move on and not having had to partake in the formalities of his death, but I also knew that doing so would put the full burden on my mother’s shoulders alone. There also wasn’t that much to do. Scarcely anyone knew him, and so the ceremony could be held in a small rented room in the back of the funeral parlor. The bulk of the process was in taking care of his property and belongings. We had decided to rent a truck and move all of his valuables to a storage facility, bring the rest to the recycling center and then sort through his belongings on our own time while the house could be put up for sale. It was during those few days that I got to know my grandfather like I never had before.
We had hardly ever had a genuine conversation. Most often he was tense. Gripping the arms of his leather sofa so tensely it looked like he was doing his best to not explode at any moment. Over time I learned to just avoid catching his attention entirely. So to see his old records, his books, to feel his ‘off-limits’ leather sofa that still carried the dent of his weight under my fingers, to dig through all his pictures and trinkets without haste, without having to fear his croaking voice thundering at me from behind at any moment, it somehow gave me more of a feeling of being connected to him than when he was alive. It was as if I could at last form some sort of understanding of the person he had been. He had become more real in my head than he was when he was sitting right in front of me; His stone face in his aged leather seat, his knuckles greyish white from years of aging and equally from years of anger, a frown carved so deeply on his forehead it made me wonder if it could even leave his face had there been no one around to annoy him.
Not a huge deal of his belongings seemed valuable enough to keep or sell. He had the usual vintage furniture that I knew would fetch a couple hundred at least. The usual outdated bits of art and decoration. Some vintage stuff I could easily sell on Ebay like his old safety razor set. We managed to get all of it in one small storage unit with room to spare. It was partially because of this that I decided to keep one box that would otherwise be thrown out with the rest of the trash. I had filled it up mostly with items from his desk. Little items that were probably of some sentimental value. Some folders and documents I didn’t have the time to go through then and there. The folders came from a locked compartment of his desk, that I managed to break open with a screwdriver. Along with the yellowed papers there was one lone trinket in the compartment. A type of amulet or penchant, perhaps. It seemed gold, but at the same time dirtied and dull-looking. A tad primitive looking, as well. Clearly not crafted by a skilled goldsmith. I made a mental note to try and clean it up when I got home and see if I could find out what style or origin it had.
Once home the box landed in my bedroom. My mother couldn’t bring up the energy to refuse after I remarked that perhaps it mentioned my father in some way. After dinner I decided to sit down and go through the papers. It had only been a minute or two of reading before I sprinted down the stairs and showed my mother what I had found. “I never knew this much,” she muttered with her eyes wide as saucers. “You knew and never told me?” I asked, almost offended. Her apology came so soft and vulnerable that my heart dropped a little, but she continued: “This is the town your grandfather grew up in. I knew strange things had happened over there, but your father knew as little as me, and neither of us bothered to pry. You know how he was, your grandfather, I mean.”
My mother picked up one of the few pictures from the table. One of my grandfather as a young boy with his mother and sister. It’s not a clear picture at all. Half of it has aged so badly you can barely make out the faces. I held up the amulet and pointed to the boy’s hand on the picture. He was unmistakably holding the same peculiar object I was holding. She gave me a look of surprise and flipped the picture over. “Mother and Mary, who love me so dearly, mother and Mary, who never come see me;” she read aloud. I took the picture from her hands and read the words I had missed the first time. It was written sloppily, almost frantic, even for a child’s handwriting. I looked at my mother confusedly. As she explained I learned yet another bit about my grandfather’s life. There was some sort of medical issue or accident when he was in his early teens that forced his family to send him to a hospital. He had spent years there until he was better, and by the time he was released he was old enough to start his own life as an adult. Considering what I know of the town of Szonomy, his family was probably too poor to visit him frequently.
Szonomy. 1926. A small huddled collective of mountaineers and mineworkers where my great-grandmother gave birth to a baby boy that we were preparing for burial over ninety-two years later. The isolated hub depended on hunting and foraging as much as it did on the monthly merchant’s caravan from the nearest city. Safe for stereotypes it was indeed an impoverished and harsh living, like most of the region at the time. This all I learned from the internet. Not much else turned up there. The bulk of what I learned came from the contents of the box in my bedroom. The oldest newspaper clipping is dated at 1938. It details a series of events that can be called disturbing at the very least, that according to the paper clipping had been occurring for up to three years before the first report. Combining the information from the other documents tells me that the first incident likely occurred in 1934. Making my grandfather, at the time a boy of eight, a witness to it all. I feel ashamed for saying it: but this was the first time I wished my grandfather hadn’t passed away. If only so he could have satiated my curiosity.
From what I had gathered through a few hours of searching online the town priest was sentenced to hanging for the disappearance and murder of several children. One of the victims was the priest's own bastard child. The town had endured years of child disappearances and as they grew more and more frequent a message was sent to the nearest city, who sent a team of investigators along with the next caravan up to Szonomy. The priest was accused of the crimes and hanged after a thorough investigation. This by itself seemed like more than enough to create my documentary around. I assumed that most likely there was nothing more I could find since it happened so long ago. But even in that worst case scenario I figured I could turn it into a disturbing handheld urban exploration type thing and maybe I’d learn a cool thing or two about my own family history in the process.
I relayed the idea to my teacher who approved and signed off on my equipment loan slip which allowed me to borrow pretty high-end film equipment for a few weeks.
My mom (entirely elated) jumped at the chance to get me out of the house and more specifically out of this unpleasant situation. She gave me some cash and her card and suggested I find a cheap hotel near Szonomy and take my time exploring the area.
Pretty soon though, things took a turn for a kind of darkness I’m still not sure I can stomach.
I ended up making it to Szonomy a few days later than I had hoped. Some issues came up with the inheritance and I had a pretty big fight with my mom which is pretty rare for us. The first day wasn’t very eventful. I arrived in the town late afternoon and immediately started shooting the surroundings so I’d have enough footage to use as filler. The town was indeed still in use, but just barely. One pebbled main road was all there was in terms of infrastructure. Most of the buildings were derelict or run down, most of them seemed so old my grandfather could have lived in them. It was like walking through a time capsule. The grinding poverty permeated every inch of the town, even after a century. The town was far from large, but the way in which it was laid out across the mountainous terrain, and the way the functioning buildings were littered between the abandoned ones made it hard to find my way around.
Finally I made my way to something that looked like a bar or a convenience store. Once inside I was greeted by a tall woman built like a brick house, with grey streaks in greasy, black curls who asked me if I wanted a room. “This is it. The only inn in town. I’ll have your bags brought up to room 7. It’s far too late to start now,” She said in a stern, but friendly tone, not offering a moment of silence for me to chime in. I was taken by surprise, but I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to stay the night in Szonomy pass me by. It turns out hikers and climbers frequently pass there as a start and return point. Not much else happened that evening. I went to bed pretty early after it started to get too cold and dark to mess about in the middle of nowhere.
I made my way downstairs this morning to find the innkeeper in a much better mood. She smiled and motioned at me to come over as she was standing behind the bar. She disappeared into the kitchen for ten or so minutes before coming back and sliding a large plate of eggs and toast in front of me, as well as a steaming cup of coffee I didn’t intend to drink.
“It’s none of my business but you know that these mountains aren’t the type to cross on your own, right? Are your friends coming later today?” I swallowed a mouthful of egg and admitted that I wasn’t actually there to climb. Her face turned into a questioning frown for a moment before she smiled again and responded “Well you must be in a rough place in your life if you ended up here for no reason.” It was then that I told her about my grandfather and the documents I had found. I wouldn’t have told her about the film project if she didn’t bring up that she saw me shooting earlier. She seemed pensive for a moment, let out a short sigh and opened up.
“The priest,” she mumbled, looking down at my untouched cup of coffee. “Yes, the priest. Terrible affair that was. The town never really recovered after that. Probably half of them left in the years after he was caught. From what I understand it was mostly the ones too poor to move that stayed. If not for them the town would have been deserted and forgotten by now.” Confused, I asked her why people moved after the priest had been dealt with. “I’ve lived here all my life, boy. And half of that time I’ve pondered on packing my bags and leaving just the same. It’s no surprise to me that they left. Most people also didn’t believe the lawmen. They were sure something dark slumbered in the town.” I looked at her puzzled, and she continued: “Most people saw the things that man did with their own eyes. They didn’t know it was him, sure, but they saw. They lived that fear for years, and then a few city folk came strutting around and in a few days decided it had been just a regular man who committed regular murders? The mayor believed and did his best to get the town to carry on and keep things going. But something broke in the town. It wasn’t the community it was before.”
All this time I had been taking notes, she didn’t seem to mind. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up in excitement. There was more to the story, even if it was just small town paranoia. I did my best to focus on what she was saying, but in the back of my mind I was already thinking of how I’d build up the narration and the imagery in the film. Eventually I took my shot and asked her specifically what the priest had done if not ‘just’ murder children.
According to the innkeeper during the first few disappearances most children would just vanish. The few that were found had horrific injuries, as if maimed by wild animals. The town demanded the mayor to solve the problem. Hunters were sent out to rid the mountainside predators, thinking the harsh winter had left them desperate enough for food that they ventured closer to the town than usual. The town had set up dozens of traps in the woods, until another child vanished. But this girl was found in one of the traps, hanging upside down from a springrope on a branch like a gutted pig. A wide tear in the side of her neck, a streak of dried blood running up her face and clotting streaks of her hair. Her skin morbidly greyish. The townspeople blamed the mayor for ordering to put up the traps, deciding that she must have stepped on one by accident and had been attacked by an animal as she hung struggling. But as the family undressed the girl to prepare her for burial they found the inside of her dress to be marked with coal. A hand full of black symbols. The other victims’ families retrieved the clothes their children were found in, and those too were marked. The markings had gone unnoticed because most of the fabrics had been blood soaked.
The town became convinced all the disappearances were the work of a demon after that. Paranoia grew, people kept their children indoors and so the mayor turned to his last hope: the priest. The priest started blessing all the houses, and ordered the parents to bring all the children to church and have them perform some sort of cleansing prayer. And sure, for a few months all seemed to be going well again. Nothing happened and reluctantly people started to loosen up again. It was perhaps half a year later that another child vanished. And soon after a second. Some of the townsfolk had conspired together to send a desperate letter with the next merchant caravan, without the knowledge of the mayor or the priest. Word had been going around town that the priest was seen in the woods at night, wandering aimlessly, and all confidence in the mayor had been lost. Their letter was meant for the church, who were asked to send an extortionist. The church, however, informed the police, who dispatched a team to investigate.
Surely, the priest was soon caught. But in what a state. The police had demanded to search all buildings they saw fit, the church itself was nothing more than a two story wooden building with a small bell tower. The search seemed straightforward at first, until the police demanded entry to the priest’s living quarters. The priest tried to resist, claiming it was an offence to a man of prayer, and soon he turned violent in protest. His living quarters turned up similar odd black symbols as on the dress of the young girl found hanging in the woods. The furniture had been rearranged against the walls, leaving a sizable empty space in the middle of the wooden floor, which was covered in carvings and candles. A large symbol was carved in the middle of the wall opposite the door. I asked the innkeeper if it was a pentagram or something similar, and though she said she wouldn’t be able to describe something she hadn’t personally seen, she knew to tell me it definitely wasn’t that. “More hooky and more ancient-looking,” she said, “A lot more complex.”
I doubted I’d ever manage to figure out what it was, but I made a note to myself to do some research online and show her some examples to see if she might know more than she realizes. The priest, by then already detained by the lawmen and in a delusional frenzy, swore up and down that he ‘did it for the town’ that they needed to allow him to finish his work. The creepiness didn't even end there. The priest was the murderer, no one in the town, nor the lawmen doubted that now. But it was after further search of the church that they found the rest of the bodies. Apparently the town had went to church every single Sunday, unaware that they were observing service right on top of half a dozen children's corpses. The excavations saw the whole wooden floor broken out. The town quickly agreed that they could never set foot in such an unholy place again and instead of repairing the floor, they chose to burn the entire building down.
Martuska (the innkeeper) offered to show me the location of the church ruins after she finished up around the inn. By that time it was already around noon and I’d had to make it to class the next day, so I set out to film as much as I could and try to catch some locals for an interview. Gleefully I kept adding to my to do list: I had to check out the nearest library for old newspaper copies. I planned to ask around to see if any locals would be willing to let me copy old photographs they had. Things were going better than expected, and I felt like I was about to make a real banger of a film.
The church is located ‘on top’ of the town in a sense. There’s a path that’s mostly overgrown that leads up to the area. Once when you get there there’s a clearing you can’t see very well from below, but I could almost feel it’s looming presence as I imagined it’s wooden form towering over the town. Standing up there I saw that the town was a little bit larger than I had thought. There were clusters of buildings, misshapen through time and partially reclaimed by the wild which I hadn’t seen before, spread somewhat sporadically across the area. The church is completely gone but the outline of the building is still visible in the form of a plot of dirt surrounded by a rusty fence about hip height. Martuska claims the town removed all evidence of the church and had tried to turn it into a flower field. Yet as the years distanced them further from the tragedy interest waned and survival in the poverty of isolated living proved a higher priority. The unrelenting foliage eventually took back what belonged to it by right of determination, and covered the location of the horrors once more.
As we descended down the path and made our way through the last of the bushes covering what was left of the trail I noticed a face in a window just for a split second before it pulled back between the curtains. I asked Martuska, who knew to tell me it was an elderly woman named Mary who was old enough to witness the incidents first hand. I asked if we could go talk to her. Martuska smiled and insisted that Mary was not the type to invite strangers in for tea, but that I could try if I felt like it. We said our goodbyes (during which she assured me I was welcome in her inn any time) and I made my way to Mary’s house.
She didn’t open the door immediately, even though I could clearly see her tiny silhouette behind the yellowed lace curtain of the window next to the door. When she did open it, it was only enough to see one eye, glaring at me. “You’re one of those sniffers, aren’t you?” She barked, with a tone so forceful it didn’t match her tiny figure and even less her wrinkled face. I managed to fumble out a confused “I’m sorry?” before she went on: “One of those mystery sniffers or diggers or whatever you lot call yourselves. Too curious, too careless. Prying in other people’s misery for your entertainment.”
Looking back at the trail behind me I knew I was about to lose the chance to talk to a real eye witness. Perhaps it wasn’t honest of me, but knowing what I know now it was what I had to do. And so I told her about my grandfather, that he grew up in this town, that he had recently passed away, and that he might have been related to her. She looked me up and down and after close to a minute of silence she opened her door wider with a winding wooden creek and beckoned me inside. I followed her into the sitting area and sat down as she brought a set of cups and a teapot on a platter and set it down on a small table between us. Only as she faced me again did I notice her headscarf covered most of her face. The scarf hung in such a way I could just make out one of her eyes and cheeks when she tilted her head to look at me. “Why did you go to see the flower garden?” she started, not bothering to poor me a cup of tea. I told her again of my grandfather, and said that he had left me a folder of documents. That I had come to see the town and that the innkeeper had just mentioned the church.
“No one just comes here to visit,” her voice icy but calm, “Who was your grandfather exactly?” There was another silence after I said I suspected she might have been his sister. She spoke quieter and even more stoic now: “I’m afraid you’ve come to me for nothing, child. I never had a brother.” Her one eye flickered up at me and narrowed. “You really are just a sniffer, aren’t you?” I couldn’t lie to this woman anymore, and let an apologetic “yes” escape my lips. It came out as nothing more than a dry whisper. “Well I think it’s time for you to go. It destroyed this town. And he destroyed my life.” “Did the priest hurt you too?” I pushed her, “No,” she nearly shrieked, “It.” She took my silence to regain her composure and nearly whispered: “When you’re close to a century old the days become so very short. Kindly leave me be now” She stood up and set the platter with unused tea cups back in the kitchen before nudging me towards the door. As I stepped outside and turned around to say goodbye she had already closed the door to a narrow slit again. Just enough for one half of her face and for her frail arm to offer me a small piece of paper. “A few months ago another one of you lot came by. I gave him all what I had left. Which is all my uncle left us after he passed. When I finally die, I don’t want to do it in a house filled with things that haunted me all my life. If you must know, talk to him. But never do knock on my door again.”
After this I returned home. It took me a while to continue my research. I’d been feeling under the weather and my mother and I had been fighting on and off. I guess it was mostly the stress of selling the house and what not but ever since she’s been getting on my nerves a lot. Of course, to her I am the problem. Either way, I did manage to reach out to Viktor, the ‘mystery sniffer’ whose business card I got from Mary. He was pretty eager to meet up. He’s not a filmmaker or a writer or anything of the sort. He really is just one of those people that chases cold cases and urban legends. A little later we managed to sit down together and share our findings. He was impressed by how much I managed to get out of the innkeeper. Apparently she wasn’t as accommodating towards him. He did get a lot more out of Mary, though. But I’ll keep that for later.
Let me just start from the top. Through his own research, stuff he got from Mary and conversations with other townsfolk Viktor found out a little bit more about the priest. He was named Jakab, for starters, and he settled in the town after half a life of traveling the world as a missionary. He had mainly traveled into South America, specifically seeking out small tribes to convert. Why this is important will come later. Now Jakab, aging over fifty, came to the mountain town with the caravan one day with a letter from the church mandating a chapel be built. He had enough with him to provide payment for half the town’s men and the structure was erected over the period of several weeks. During this time a young girl fell with child. Being unmarried she was a subject of mockery and shunning. The girl gave birth but took her own life out of shame only a few days later. She was found hanging in the woods behind her parental house. It is here that there is a lack of clarity and Viktor filled in the gaps, although knowing what I know now I agree that it is plausible.
Viktor seemed certain that the priest fathered the child and that the young mother had been his first victim in the town. That the woman had hidden her motherhood until she came knocking at his church door one night, child in arms. As a priest, surely, he could not be known as a man of lust, and in a fit of rage had taken her life.The priest (unable to harm a child) claimed it had been abandoned at his doorstep and offered to raise as his own and as time went on everyone referred to the child as the priest's son. Viktor had something far more tangible, though. Letters. Specifically letters from the priest to his son, the letters were delivered, but confiscated by the mayor. These were written as the priest was awaiting his hanging. A total of seven letters. Some written almost illegibly, some confusing messes of frantic writing. But Viktor had collected the most useful parts and laid them out for me. He was so kind as to offer high quality digital copies for my film. The letters provide an amazing insight into the priest’s thinking. It was as if sitting in front of him after so many years, and hearing his motivations first hand. It was clear he was delusional. You see, Jakab spent years in the jungles of South America. He lived with various tribes for extended periods of time. In some cases coming close to death, either by man, by beast or by nature. As he felt he neared the end of his life as a missionary, he set out to make contact with a tribe that had managed to evade him for all those years. A tribe feared by many others. Described as cannibals, as conjurers who used dark magic to ward off their foes. He decided that as a man of God he could not leave that continent without at least attempting to convert those he considered most unholy to the light.
In his letter he described in detail how in spite of searching for the tribe for months with no luck, he found them fairly easily on a certain day. A group of the tribe's hunters had been fishing in a river far closer to the edge of the jungle than they would usually venture, and as they saw him they seemed eager to make contact. The once elusive tribe welcomed him with open arms. He saw this as a sign of God that he was doing the right thing. They in turn seemed to see him as a God, they spoiled him with meats and succulent fruits. They sent him to a tent full of furs and young women for the night. He stayed with the tribe for weeks. For days and days they would not leave his side and took care of him. He was seated at the same table as the tribe chief and feasted from the same bowl
When the third week came they brought him to a cave. Suddenly suspicious he felt trapped, and feared he had only been set up for sacrifice or slaughter. The tribe elders brought him to a large cavern in the cave, where women dressed like priestesses lined the walls with torches. A large mark was drawn on the wall with ash and the ground was covered in similar white marks and symbols. Despite his fear the tribe elders told him of their prophecy. They were to bless the chosen one sent by the Gods. A man who was bred from clouds through their ritual. He felt that on a continent that knew not of white men they deemed his pale complexion as a sign of their prophecy. He was promised eternal riches as well as eternal life on earth. The priest, though weary, felt obliged to accept and allowed the ritual to be performed. Herbs were burned and concoctions were administered. Jakab fell into a waking dream filled with fever and terror. But early the next day Jakab awoke anew, in an empty tent for the first time since arriving to the tribe. Despite an ache from flesh to marrow, he was exalted about being alive still. As he ventured into the tribe there was clear tension in the air. There were no more feasts and no more laughter. No seat at the table and no more young women to warm his lap. Jakab was at once brought to the edge of the tribal land by a handful of men who made their intentions clear with threatening motions of their spears.
By now I had read all but two of the letters. I looked up at Viktor and he sat there grinning widely nodding his head as if to say “And?”. And, well.. I was excited. Yet at the same time my head hurt and I just wanted to get it over with and leave. I asked Viktor if he knew more of the tribe or the ritual. He instantly jumped up and dropped two thick books in front of me a few seconds later, as if he had been waiting for me to ask. “I did a lot of research,” he emphasized ‘research’ deeply. “I went through about a dozen books of South American history and tribal records. There are so many tribes, and honestly an incredible amount that routinely butchered or ate their enemies. So then I did random searches for recorded legends of the region and I found one story that seems to match up at least to some extent.”
Viktor didn’t give me the chance to respond as he continued in a raging fashion: “There is this story of a tribe that was plagued by a demon that would move from host to host within the tribe. The demon would live as a parasite within the heart of a man, only men, and would slumber. Every so often the spirit would awaken to feed, and drive the host mad with delusion until he did his bidding and satisfied the parasite’s thirst for death. Many men were killed, some others took their own lives, all in an attempt to stop the demon. But every time the killings would continue after at most a few years of peace. The tribe believed that the entity moved from host to host along the bloodline of the last host, giving preference to move from father to first-born son. Eventually the demon was known to live within a man with only one son, and as the tribe took the father’s life, they resolved to keep the boy confined to a cage. Eventually the boy was brought to a cave and a ritual was performed. The boy was sacrificed and the demon, with now nowhere to go, was trapped inside a cursed object. Viktor looked at me with that same enthusiastic grin that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
“How does this relate to-” before I finished my sentence Viktor continued, “The story ends with the tribe realizing that the cursed item could not eternally hold the demon, so they decided to lure a man from far away, with skin ‘pale as clouds’, and transferred the demon into him through ritual and send him off, so that their curse may torment another tribe.” I looked at Viktor in disbelief. Even though all of it seemed so outlandish, for some reason it just clicked in me. It just made sense. “So Jakab killed his own son because he feared the demon would possess him after his hanging?” Viktor looked at me quizzically for once. “What do you mean? He never killed his son.” I told him of the newspapers my grandfather had, and showed him a picture of them on my phone. “Oh, no. His son was definitely one of the victims. The priest was known to be a harsh man that would exact his anger on his son from time to time. He never murdered his son, though.” I asked Viktor about the son, and he motioned towards the last two letters. I read them quickly, and indeed, much more became clear to me. Jakab told this story to his son, and then tried to plead his innocence in the letters. He insisted the murders were the work of a demon and not him. He claimed the symbols in his living quarters were his attempt to perform a ritual to confine the demon to an object once more.
That icy shiver crept up my spine once more and turned to fire and needles as I neared the end of the letter: “My son. I am sorry that I have inflicted such a fate upon you. I should have ended your life a long time ago. When I still had the power to do so. I should have spared you what is now surely to come. He never allowed me, and now it is too late. You will endure, as I have, all he commands.”
“Isn’t this fucking mindblowing?” Viktor blurted out, his eyes darting across the collection of papers and pictures now scattered across the table. “What did happen to the boy, then?” I asked, in a tone far more demanding than I intended. A bit taken aback Viktor replied: “The poor kid had to witness the hanging of his own father. He was then adopted by the sister of the mayor. He lived there with her and her daughter. You remember Mary?”
“Mary?” I stared at him in awe. “Yes, that Mary. One night the town awoke to screaming from the girl’s house. The next day they insisted all was fine but when the daughter wasn’t seen for a few days the neighbours grew concerned and demanded to know what had taken place. The daughter had such extensive damage to her face that she hid herself under a headscarf. The town grew weary again and so the mayor made sure to assure everyone the girl had been attacked by their family dog which had been ‘taken care of'. Despite that the priest’s son was sent to the city mere days after to spend the rest of his days in a mental ward. His trail ends after a few years. He changed his name and went who knows where.” My head was pounding. I felt like all the pieces connected somehow. “Imagine if he had a son, and the demo-” I waved my hand to make Viktor stop talking without even looking at him. “Do you have a picture of the priest’s son?” I glanced up at him. I left soon after. Viktor reluctantly promised to send me copies of all the files before he slammed the door on me.
I had to call Viktor several times to pester him about the copies before he sent them. My mother is upset again as well. I feel so stressed. In front of me I have the badly preserved picture of my grandfather and his mother and sister and the picture of the priest and his son. The tension has been spinning around in my chest for hours because I just can’t put the pieces together even though in my gut it feels like I already know. It remains just outside my reach. As if my brain is trying it’s best to avoid whatever truth the story is still hiding from me. It feels like the priest is glaring right at me from the picture. His tall, lanky physique towering over his son. His rigid face covered in deep wrinkles only years of poor living and harsh winters can carve. His beady, dark eyes void of feeling, yet almost mocking. His thin lips like a mere crack in marble, dead, for decades, yet it looks like the corner of his mouth could curl up at any moment and send me into a fit of insanity.
And then I noticed something that made me want to vomit. Barely a few millimeters on the picture of the priest. But under the magnifying glass it’s unmistakable. Under the hem of the priest’s coat I can just make out the crooked edges of a rather odd but recognizable necklace, reflecting dimly. My head is spinning. It feels like my grandfather’s amulet is burning a hole in my chest, even though I am not even wearing it. It’s as if the dull glimmer of the sallow gold object in front of me on the desk is blinding my eyes, trying to pierce my mind. To force me to accept that which I know I can not live with. It’s cursed form eternally tied to an ancient evil through rituals beyond my comprehension.
In my mind, I’m terrified that it is true. But for some reason, in my chest, all I feel is an alien rage, thrashing around, demanding I acknowledge its presence.
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2020.08.17 08:26 Worm2120 A complete timeline of relevant events on 09/11/2001.

Lets see if this post gets buried and downvoted instantly like my last post.
V: A building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. Alone, a symbol is meaningless, but with enough people, blowing up a building can change the world.

years leading up to 09/11/2001:
MILITARY SIMULATIONS AND TRAININGS:
-1991: White House Is Protected From Airplane Attack During Gulf War
While a battery of surface-to-air-missiles remains permanently on the roof of the White House, the rest of these defenses are apparently removed after the war is over. Yet even though counterterrorism officials later call the alerts in the summer of 2001 “the most urgent in decades,” similar defensive measures will apparently not be taken.
- 1998: Training Exercise Held at the White House, Based Around Militants Using a Plane as a Weapon
Counterterrorism “tsar” Richard Clarke chairs a tabletop exercise at the White House, involving a scenario where anti-American militants fill a Learjet with explosives, and then fly it on a suicide mission toward a target in Washington, DC. Officials from the Pentagon, Secret Service, and FAA attend, and are asked how they would stop such a threat. Pentagon officials say they could launch fighters from Langley Air Force Base, Virginia, but would need authorization from the president to shoot the plane down, and currently there is no system to do this. The 9/11 Commission later states: “There was no clear resolution of the problem at the exercise.”
- 1999-September 11, 2001: NORAD Exercise Simulates Crashes into US Buildings; One of Them Is the World Trade Center
One of these imagined targets is the World Trade Center. According to NORAD, these scenarios are regional drills, rather than regularly scheduled continent-wide exercises. They utilize “[n]umerous types of civilian and military aircraft” as mock hijacked aircraft, and test “track detection and identification; scramble and interception; hijack procedures; internal and external agency coordination; and operational security and communications security procedures.” The main difference between these drills and the 9/11 attacks is that the planes in the drills are coming from another country, rather than from within the US. Before 9/11, NORAD reportedly conducts four major exercises at headquarters level per year. Most of them are said to include a hijack scenario.
- Between October 24 and 28, 2000: Military Holds Exercise Rehearsing Response to a Plane Crash at the Pentagon
Pentagon and Arlington County emergency responders assemble in the office of the Secretary of Defenses conference room in the Pentagon for a mass casualty exercise (“MASCAL”). The exercise involves three mock-scenarios. One is of a commercial airliner crashing into the Pentagon and killing 342 people, while the other two involve a terrorist attack at the Pentagons subway stop and a construction accident. The exercises are conducted using a large-scale model of the Pentagon with a model airplane literally on fire in the central courtyard of the building. An Army medic who participates in the mock attack calls it “a real good scenario and one that could happen easily,” while a fire chief notes: “You have to plan for this. Look at all the air traffic around here.”
- May 2001: Medics Train for Airplane Hitting Pentagon
The Tri-Service DiLorenzo Health Care Clinic and the Air Force Flight Medicine Clinic, both housed within the Pentagon, train for a scenario involving a hijacked 757 airliner being crashed into the Pentagon. It is reported that the purpose of the training is “to fine-tune their emergency preparedness.”
- April 17-26, 2001: Joint Chiefs of Staff Holds Exercise for Continuity of Government if US is Attacked; Proposal to Simulate Airliner Crash into Pentagon Rejected
The Joint Chiefs of Staff holds a large, worldwide exercise called Positive Force, which focuses on the Defense Department's ability to conduct large-scale military operations and coordinate these operations. The 2001 Positive Force exercise is a “continuity of operations exercise,” meaning it deals with government contingency plans to keep working in the event of an attack on the US. Over a dozen government agencies, including NORAD, are invited to participate. The exercise prepares them for various scenarios, including non-combatant evacuation operations, cyber attacks, rail disruption, and power outages. Apparently, one of the scenarios that was considered for this exercise involved “a terrorist group hijack[ing] a commercial airliner and fly[ing] it into the Pentagon.” But the proposed scenario, thought up by a group of Special Operations personnel trained to think like terrorists, was rejected. Joint Staff action officers and White House officials said the additional scenario is either “too unrealistic” or too disconnected to the original intent of the exercise.
- June 1-2, 2001: Military Conducts Exercises Based on Scenario in which Cruise Missiles Are Launched against US
Bin Laden is pictured on the cover of the first Amalgam Virgo exercise. 📷 The US military conducts Amalgam Virgo 01, a multi-agency planning exercise sponsored by NORAD involving the hypothetical scenario of a cruise missile being launched by “a rogue [government] or somebody” from a barge off the East Coast. Bin Laden is pictured on the cover of the proposal for the exercise. The exercise takes place at Tyndall Air Force Base in Florida. The next Amalgam Virgo exercise, scheduled to take place the following year, will involve two simultaneous commercial aircraft hijackings. Planning for the exercises begins before 9/11.
poster for event on June 1-2, 2001 feat. Osama Bin Laden.
- Early August 2001: Mass Casualty Exercise at the Pentagon Includes a Plane Hitting the Building
A mass casualty exercise, involving a practice evacuation, is held at the Pentagon. General Lance Lord of US Air Force Space Command, one of the participants in the exercises, later recalls: “[It was] purely a coincidence, the scenario for that exercise included a plane hitting the building.” Lord will also say that on 9/11, “our assembly points were fresh in our minds” thanks to this practice. People and organizations involved: Lance Lord

Did you catch that? re-read the above bold statement. There are no coincidences.
3
WARNING SIGNS AND PROOF OF NEGLIGENCE:
Every event that took place before 9/11 COULD be considered a coincidence by almost all people who believe the MSM narrative of 9/11. Therefore, I will mostly be focusing on a classified (at the time) military intelligence task force known as Able Danger.
Able Danger was a data mining software started by LIWA after finding a large presence of Chinese corporations fronting as US companies to mine data inside the US and gain intel. Able Danger was the United States counter to this Chinese data mining issue.
In the fall of 1999, Able Danger was officially created to gain information on Al-Qaeda on the orders of 4 star General Peter Schoomaker and Hugh Shelton, leader of SOCOM.
Using computers, the unit collects huge amounts of data in a technique called “data mining.” They get information from such sources as al-Qaeda Internet chat rooms, news accounts, web sites, and financial records. Using sophisticated software, they compare this with government records such as visa applications by foreign tourists, to find any correlations and depict these visually.

January-May 2000: CIA Has Atta Under Surveillance

Hijacker Mohamed Atta is put under surveillance by the CIA while living in Germany. [Berliner Zeitung, 9/24/01; Focus, 9/24/01; Agence France-Presse, 9/22/01] He is “reportedly observed buying large quantities of chemicals in Frankfurt, apparently for the production of explosives [and/or] for biological warfare.” “The US agents reported to have trailed Atta are said to have failed to inform the German authorities about their investigation,” even as the Germans are investigating many of his associates. “The disclosure that Atta was being trailed by police long before 11 September raises the question why the attacks could not have been prevented with the man's arrest.” [Observer, 9/30/01] A German newspaper adds that Atta is able to get a visa into the US on May 18. According to some reports, the surveillance stops when he leaves for the US at the start of June. However, “experts believe that the suspect [remains] under surveillance in the United States.” [Berliner Zeitung, 9/24/01] A German intelligence official also states, “We can no longer exclude the possibility that the Americans wanted to keep an eye on Atta after his entry in the US” [Focus, 9/24/01] This correlates with a Newsweek claim that US officials knew Atta was a “known [associate] of Islamic terrorists well before [9/11].” [Newsweek, 9/20/01] However, a congressional inquiry later reports that the US “intelligence community possessed no intelligence or law enforcement information linking 16 of the 19 hijackers [including Atta] to terrorism or terrorist groups.” [9/11 Congressional Inquiry, 9/20/02] In 2005, after accounts of the Able Danger program learning Atta's name become news, newspaper account will neglect to mention this prior report about Atta being known by US intelligence. For instance, the New York Times will report, “The account [about Able Danger] is the first assertion that Mr. Atta, an Egyptian who became the lead hijacker in the plot, was identified by any American government agency as a potential threat before the Sept. 11 attacks” (see August 9, 2005) . [New York Times, 8/9/05]

January-February 2000: Secret Military Unit Identifies al-Qaeda ‘Brooklyn’ Cell; Mohamed Atta is a Member

Its clear by now that Able Danger has Identified an immense amount of data on the future hijackers living in New York, over a year before the attacks and after being seen purchasing chemicals for chemical warefare.

April 2000: LIWA and Able Danger Face Trouble After LIWA Connects Prominent US Figures to Chinese Military

A 1999 study by the US Army's Land Information Warfare Activity (LIWA) to look into possible Chinese front companies in the US seeking technology for the Chinese military created controversy and was ordered destroyed in November 1999 (see Mid-1999-November 1999). However, apparently Rep. Curt Weldon (R) protests, and the issue finally comes to a head during this month. One result of this controversy will be what Maj. Erik Kleinsmith will later call “severely restricted” support for Able Danger, including a temporary end to LIWA support (see April 2000) In an April 14, 2000 memorandum from the legal counsel in the Office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Capt. Michael Lohr writes that the concern over the LIWA data mining study raises privacy concerns: “Preliminary review of subject methodology raised the possibility that LIWA ‘data mining’ would potentially access both foreign intelligence (FI) information and domestic information relating to US citizens (i.e. law enforcement, tax, customs, immigration, etc... ... I recognize that an argument can be made that LIWA is not ‘collecting’ in the strict sense (i.e. they are accessing public areas of the Internet and non-FI federal government databases of already lawfully collected information). This effort would, however, have the potential to pull together into a single database a wealth of privacy-protected US citizen information in a more sweeping and exhaustive manner than was previously contemplated.” Additionally, the content of the study is another reason why it caused what Weldon calls a “wave of controversy.” The study had connected future National Security Advisor and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, former Defense Secretary William Perry, and other prominent US citizens to business transactions with Chinese military officials.(see Mid-1999-November 1999). [Washington Times, 10/9/05; Washington Times, 9/22/05; New York Post, 8/27/05; Curt Weldon Press Conference, 9/17/05; Erik Kleinsmith Statement, 9/21/05] One article on the subject will comment, “Sources familiar with Able Danger say the project was shut down because it could have led to the exposure of a separate secret data mining project focusing on US citizens allegedly transferring super-sensitive US technology illegally to the Chinese government.” [WTOP, 9/1/05] A massive destruction of data from Able Danger and LIWA's data mining efforts will follow, one month later (see May-June 2000).
KEEP READING!!!!!!!!

May-June 2000: Army Officer Told to Destroy Able Danger Documents

Maj. Eric Kleinsmith, chief of intelligence for the Land Information Warfare Activity (LIWA) unit, is ordered to destroy data and documents related to a military intelligence program set up to gather information about al-Qaeda. The program, called Able Danger, has identified Mohamed Atta and three other future hijackers as potential threats (see January-February 2000). According to Kleinsmith, by April 2000 it has collected “an immense amount of data for analysis that allowed us to map al-Qaeda as a worldwide threat with a surprisingly significant presence within the United States.”
The representative also acknowledges that regulations would have probably allowed the Able Danger information to be shared with law enforcement agencies before its destruction. Asked why this was not done, he responds, “I can't tell you.” [CNET News, 9/21/05] The order to destroy the data and documents is given to Kleinsmith by Army Intelligence and Security Command General Counsel Tony Gentry, who jokingly tells him, “Remember to delete the data—or you'll go to jail.” [Government Executive, 9/21/05] The quantity of information destroyed is later described as “2.5 terabytes,” about as much as one-fourth of all the printed materials in the Library of Congress. [Associated Press, 9/16/05] Other records associated with the unit are allegedly destroyed in March 2001 and spring 2004
i MEAN WHAT MORE INFO DO WE NEED????
2.5 TERABYTES IN THE YEAR 2000. The amount of data that was destroyed... and of course it was just a joke, but Kleinsmith was told hed be fired if he didnt destroy all of it.
Okay now I could speculate for hours and hours on the amount of foreknowledge but i'd like to move to another section of our story:

-Tuesday, September 11th, 2001.

(6:00 a.m.): Bush Interview or Assassination Attempt?

President Bush has just spent the night at Colony Beach and Tennis Resort on Longboat Key, Florida. Surface-to-air missiles have been placed on the roof of the resort (it is not known if this was typical of presidential security before 9/11, or if this was related to increased terror warnings). [Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 9/10/02] Bush wakes up around 6:00 a.m. and is preparing for his morning jog. [MSNBC, 10/27/02; Daily Telegraph, 12/16/01; New York Times, 9/16/01 (B)] A van occupied by men of Middle Eastern descent arrives at the Colony Beach Resort, stating they have a “poolside” interview with the president. They do not have an appointment and they are turned away. [Longboat Observer, 9/26/01] Some question whether this was an assassination attempt modeled on the one used on Afghan leader Ahmed Massoud two days earlier (see September 9, 2001). [Time, 8/4/02 (B)] Longboat Key Fire Marshal Carroll Mooneyhan was reported to have overheard the conversation between the men and the Secret Service, but he later denies the report. The newspaper that reported this, the Longboat Observer stands by its story. [St. Petersburg Times, 7/4/04] Witnesses recall seeing Mohamed Atta in the Longboat Key Holiday Inn a short distance from where Bush was staying as recently as September 7, the day Bush's Sarasota appearance was publicly announced.
Why would a van of middle eastern men want to meet with bush on this particular morning... when bush has increased security for no reason...
(6:30 a.m.): NORAD on Alert for Emergency Exercises
Lieutenant Colonel Dawne Deskins, regional mission control chief, begins a large scale exercise known as: Vigilant Guardian. -THIS IS DIFFERENT THAN GLOBAL GUARDIAN WHICH IS ANOTHER EXERCISE I WILL COVER SHORTLY-
In contrast to the 9/11 Commission Report - Michael Ruppert has characterized Vigilant Guardian as "a hijacking drill, not a cold war exercise". He cites direct quotes from participants which indicate "that the drill involved hijacked airliners rather than Russian Bombers". General Arnold, Tech. Sgt. W. Powel and Lt. Col. Dwane Deskins have stated that when they first were informed about hijacked airliners they thought it was "part of the exercise".[1]

(6:45 a.m.)

“Approximately two hours prior to the first attack”, at least two workers at the instant messaging company Odigo receive messages warning of the WTC attack. This Israeli owned company has its headquarters two blocks from the WTC.
(6:47 A.M.) Fire alarms in WTC 7 placed to "test mode".
While these extra security measures were being implemented, another anomalous event occurred at WTC 7, a 47-story office building located 370 feet north of the North Tower. Specifically, every morning for the seven days before September 11, the building's fire alarm system was placed on "test condition." On September 11, it was again put on test condition, at 6:47 a.m., and only returned to normal monitoring, automatically, eight hours later, at 2:47 p.m.
Around 8 A.M. "Dancing Israelis" First seen in New Jersey Parking lot
The five men were detained by Sergeant Scott DeCarlo of the New Jersey Police Department around 4pm on September 11th.[7]. The police and FBI field agents became suspicious when they found maps of the city with certain places highlighted, box cutters (the same items that the 19 hijackers supposedly used), $4,700 cash stuffed in a sock, and foreign passports. Police also told a New Jersey local paper, The Bergen Record, that bomb sniffing dogs were brought to the van and that they reacted as if they had smelled explosives. According to the Jewish Weekly Forward the FBI later determined that at least two of the Israelis (Sivan Kurzberg and Paul Kurzberg) were agents of the Mossad.[8][9]

(After 8:37 a.m.)

NORAD gives the command to scramble fighters after Flight 11 after being notified (see (8:37 a.m.)). Lt. Colonel Dawne Deskins at NEADS tells Colonel Robert Marr, head of NEADS, “I have FAA on the phone, the shout line, Boston Center. They said they have a hijacked aircraft.” Marr then calls Major General Larry Arnold at NORAD's command Center in Tyndall Air Force Base, Florida, and says, “Boss, I need to scramble [fighters at] Otis [Air National Guard Base].” Arnold recalls, “I said go ahead and scramble them, and we'll get the authorities later.” Arnold then calls NORAD headquarters to report. [ABC News, 9/11/02, Independent Commission Report, 6/17/04] Then, seeing the proper authorization, NEADS calls Canadian Captain Mike Jellinek at NORAD's Colorado headquarters. Jellinek is sitting near Canadian Air Force Major General Rick Findley, director of combat operations there. Findley's staff is “already on high alert” because of a joint US-Canada exercise known as Vigilant Guardian (see (6:30 a.m.)), and another joint exercise known as Operation Northern Vigilance (see (9:00 a.m.))

MAN WHAT A COINCIDINKLE THAT ALL MAJOR US MILITARY BRANCHES ARE ENGAGED IN SIMULATIONS THAT INVOLVE HIJACKED AIRPLANES ON THIS MORNING HUH???!?!!?

The Icing on the cake: 5 israeli men arrested with a van packed with explosives on George Washington bridge.
This event has nearly been memory-holed from the population. And I deem it my responsibility to remind the population what happened on this horrific day.
CNN video of reporting.
ABC report as well
Anyway, all reports have the same story: 2-3 men being arrested on the George Washington bridge PACKED with explosives. Reports state that amount of explosives could've "done severe damage to the bridge". Now I cant find a source for what was said after the Israeli men were arrested, but I can remember from memory what was said, i'd love if someone can confirm my picture perfect memory correct on this:
"We are not the enemy. The Palestinians are the problem. We are your friends."
something along those lines were said to the arresting officer. In FOIA requests of this event, it has been deemed "Top Secret".

Other interesting facts and videos:
3 facts that PROVE controlled demolition.
48 disturbing facts about 9/11
Very important information on WTC 7.

9/11 single handed, proves that we as the people are brainwashed into believing everything you see. This needs to be known.

One last thing...
https://nypost.com/2002/02/13/911-link-eyed-in-fiery-death-of-crooked-dmv-worke
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/terror-links-in-tenn-mystery/

Terror Links In Tenn. Mystery?
Shortly before 1 a.m. on Feb. 10, witnesses saw flames erupt from the back seat of a 1992 Acura Legend as it crawled along a two-lane road skirting farm fields in the little Tennessee town of Piperton.
The driver breathed in the flames, her lungs searing, as the car veered off the road and came to rest against a utility pole near the Mississippi state line. There were no skid marks or furrows in the grass to indicate the driver had hit the brakes.
A witness rushed up and pulled open the car door, but the driver was not moving. She appeared to be already dead. When the first volunteer firefighters arrived, the car was engulfed in flames.
wait for it...
Shortly after she showed up for work, a man from the Toyota, Khaled Odtllah, a native of Jerusalem, joined the morning rush into the building. According to an FBI affidavit, he was clutching four signed driver's license applications.
WAIT. FOR. IT.
With Odtllah, police found Mostafa Said Abou-Shahi, Mohammed Fares, Sakher Hammad and his cousin Abdelmuhsen Mahmid Hammad. An unnamed juvenile was also taken into custody.
A few months ago, the contets of Sakher Hammad's wallet would have seemed innocuous: Two video rental cards; two major credit cards; a card designating him a “charter member” of Team Ford Racing; a New York plumber's business card.
And a pass, dated 09/05/01 that gave him access to the lower basement of One World Trade Center.
UH OH
Authorities say Sakher Hammad told them he is plumber, and that he and his cousin were in the tower to work on the sprinkler system. New York authorities have no record of a plumber's license for either cousin.
A business card in Sakher Hammad's wallet was for a Magic Plumbing & Heating Inc. in Brooklyn. It advertises “custom kitchens, bathrooms, water heaters, boilers, repiping” - generally residential in nature.
A call to the business produced only a full voice-mailbox for someone named “Rocky.” Using a reverse telephone directory, the AP found a list of phone numbers at the company's street address, all of them for individuals, among them Sakher Hammad.

Family members have refused to talk. A wary elderly neighbor said, “I believe somebody killed her.”
Let me leave you with this thought: This woman engulfed in flames out of no where and was burned beyond recognition before the car even halted to a stop, gently I might add.
Isn't it weird that the twin towers just collapsed out of no where, with molten steel spewing for weeks to months after the attacks?
Kinda makes you wonder if those "middle eastern men" had some left over presents from their WTC visit to "fix the sprinkler system" from 09/05/2001.

Let me know if I left anything out. Honestly, I could make infinite amounts of posts about 9/11 because of the amount of info here to grasp. Yet, none of what Ive posted has been disprove yet... hmmm.
Wow I havent checked this since last night before I went to bed. Thank you so much everyone for the feedback and rewards!!(:
I love you all.
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2020.08.15 15:33 potatobattery81 Covid nightmare move.

**This is not my story. This is a recent experience of a non-reddit using friend. Thought it was worth the share. ** - Ont to NL.-
So I've realized that I never really gave an update on our drive to NL... Well, my phone broke a few days before we left, and we're all hunkered down on a 14 day quarantine (that's almost done).
Also, the trip was an absolute disaster. So, that's a thing too. Nothing in my life is simple, so sit back and enjoy the story, because it's a whopper. FYI - The travel started right before a long weekend... So trying to contact anyone for anything was hard enough.
Early May - I received a call asking if I was still interested in a position in Gander... No problem, I'll take it! Whole family had to screen (medical, dental, social worker), in May, during COVID-19. Most interviews were short and simple, and conducted over the phone. I was working from home anyways, and my wife was renovating a new (to us) camper that we bought to entertain us during the summer.
House sold, fast (thanks to our neighbors close friends who bought it quickly!!). We virtually purchased in Gander (got a home inspection, parents did a walkthrough, and we were on a video call).
Pre-Pack 27 August - One person showed up, apparently the other had called in sick. My phone broke that morning, and has not yet been replaced. So keep in mine while I'm going through all the BS below, I had no phone, and my wife had limited data on hers.
Pack - Same woman came the second day... But because she again had no help, so she brought her cousin who had never packed a box before in her life (I overheard her asking how to tape them up). Lovely.
Load - A crew showed up to load everything... It was a long day, but everything there worked out great. Even loaded up my golf cart!
Clean - Cleaners came on time, wonderful job. Shoutout to Barrie Molly Maid! Exceptional. Same day, my car was picked up on a flatbed truck and shipped. It arrived about 10 days into quarantine, no issues.
Now, the travel portion. What a nightmare. Every campground was booked during the second week of July (around the 10th-12th)...
Travel Day 1 - Remember that camper? We also bought a 2007 Ford Expedition so that we could tow it. First time driving it with a trailer attached was THIS WEEK. 6 hour drive over to Maplewood Acres RV Park. Beautiful park, helpful staff. Settling into the site was hard, getting the kids to bed (first night in camper) was hard, and early to bed, because the next day was LONG.
Tvl 2 - Multiple campgrounds in NB refused us entry when trying to book. I had one guy hang up on me... No surprises there, the east coast is doing their bubble thing. No one in or out. I finally booked the Sussex KOA, in mid July. Stopped at the NB border, only to find out that the blanket travel exemptions signed off by CFMO NL for relocation military members meant nothing in NB, and I was told we were only allowed to stop if absolutely necessary. No one cared that I was military, on a posting, and ordered by the federal government to sleep periodically, every 500kms-ish. We called ahead to the KOA at lunch time to make sure our booking was going through, and that we would be super late (wrong turn, ended up on a road under heavy construction for 2 hours in QC). We were told our gate key and map of the park would be in the suggestion box. After over 15 hours of driving (it was supposed to be 10, but add gas, food, bathroom breaks... construction.......) And this was only the second day towing a trailer EVER), we arrive at the Sussex KOA at just after midnight. Exhausted, three kids and two dogs in the back... Suggestion box is empty. Guy in a side-by-side ATV, in a KOA shirt drives by... We flag him down, and he goes to the owners trailer to see what the problem is. We are told our reservation doesn't exist (I had it printed, in my hand, and my credit card was already charged). This went to the point that police were called (by me - I would lose all my food [including my quarantine coolers with weeks worth of food] and told her that by not letting me plug my trailer in, she was forcing me into the community to replenish all of my food). She told the police I was trespassing and would need to be removed. I wished her a miserable night, and that she loses her new-to-her park. Shameful, that you decided to wait until 2am in the morning to inform me that you were cancelling our reservation without notice. The local RCMP escorted us to the Amsterdam Inn & Suites who gave us a room immediately, let me park my camper on the grass in the back, gave me a late checkout in case we slept in, and sent us off with a big plateful of breakfast on the road. Thank you to both of you.
Tvl 3 - With a couple hours of sleep, it's time to head off to NS. A short 3.5 hour drive to Antigonish. Stopped at the NS border... My exemption and posting instructions mean nothing, and we're told that we aren't allowed to stop in NS. Well, I won't name the park here (just in case he wasn't allowed to let me in), but there was a beautiful little park that let us in. We paid, plugged in, and had a few hours to breathe. I think out of the entire family, I left the site twice, to throw out garbage bags. Early to bed, as we had to be at the ferry at 9:45am, a few hours away.
Tvl 4 - Antigonish to North Sydney, get aboard the 7 hour ferry. We took the 223 through central Cape Breton. The road was in much worse shape than I was lead to believe, so it was a very bumpy day on a road barely wide enough for two cars (remember, this is now the fourth time I've driven that trailer). It was white knuckle, and Amanda wouldn't look up from her lap it was that miserable... But we didn't have time to turn around, or slow down. We were literally THE LAST VEHICLE to get aboard the ferry. We get to our room, and the TV doesn't work. We were given a few sandwiches and bottles of water though... But that cabin had A SHOWER!!! Hot showers all around! Then naps. Other than that, the ferry was uneventful. The crew went door to door letting people know they could leave... Unsure if my door was missed, or we missed it over the kids screaming... But we didn't know to get off until the announcement came over the PA saying everyone could leave, and I was holding up a bunch of 18 wheelers... Once off, we find out my blanket relocation travel exemptions provided by the CAF weren't anything, and we had to apply individually for entry. So that was another 45 minutes in the parking lot by ourselves sorting it out. 15 minute drive over to the JT Cheeseman Provincial Park. Can't remember what day I called them to let them know I'd be late as I was coming off the boat, but it was in the past 3 days as we were on the road. "No problem!". When I arrived, it was a problem. 7:30 pm, been on the move around twelve hours, and was refused from yet another park. At least, they let me pull in to turn my trailer around. However, yet another park who did nothing to let me know my reservation was cancelled. I spent the night in the parking lot of the Wreckhouse (EXTREME winds). Good thing a friend was able to drop off a feed of fried chicken off for us, so we had some fresh food.
Tvl 5 - Port aux Basques to Grandfalls Windsor. By this time, I was sick and tired of dealing with parks who refused to let me enter the grounds (I'M TRYING TO ISOLATE MY FAMILY! Letting me stay in my camper is WAY MORE ISOLATED than being in a hotel). So I called ahead to Sanger Memorial RV Park. They said they wouldn't let me in the park, so I hung up, and drove on through to Gander. This was also the closing day of the house, so we planned on staying in the trailer in the backyard... But that didn't happen. Closing date failed (I'll get to that...), so we stayed in the Albatross Hotel, no problem.
Tvl 6 - Already in Gander... House finally closed after dealing with more issues, and we got the keys. This was the first time we got to see the inside of our house in person.
Unload - Truck came on time, truck was unloaded. No damage to my stuff, and job well done. Thanks Abby.
Unpack - I think the 2 guys thought they were paid by the box, as they unloaded nearly 20,000 lbs of stuff in about an hour. This was also the day my dad came by with our grocery order... And a bag of fresh king crab, and a lobster. Oh, and a case or two of Blue Star.
As I said, everything has to be an adventure... Most of these issues happened while we were on the road... I have no phone, and my wife is running out of data (this was also our GPS for driving directions)
House Insurance - We are required to have inspections, get pictures, and certificates for the 2 oil tanks / furnaces on the property in Gander... A couple of days before the house closed, while on the road, sleep deprived and dealing with everything else above. I also only have insurance for 30 days, because one of the tanks is old. So I have to have it removed (while on two weeks quarantine, where I cannot let a contractor on the property to do the work).
Closing on the house - The lender was missing paperwork (a void cheque) that we were required to somehow get. While on the road... It took so long to sort out, that the closing date had to be moved... Which means that I had to resign all of the paperwork AGAIN. With a lawyers office that refused to let me in (with my letter from my Dr saying I'm allowed to conduct business for my move). I came up with the idea that I meet them in the parking lot, and they throw it on the ground in front of me so I can take it back to the hotel for my wife and I to sign, and return in the same fashion... They agreed. This was around 11 am the day after the closing, and dealing with a bank that closes at 1 pm.
Down Payment - Unknown to us until we were on the road, the down payment (from selling the Ontario house) was deposited to my wife's bank account, vice being sent to the trust account for the new house... FYI - CIBC will not do any big transfers, bank drafts, or anything like that over the phone... We'd have to go into a bank (on a long weekend, while in quarantine, when no one will let me in anywhere. Luckily, my wife figured out a plan.
Internet - I had Bell booked to come "install" internet on the morning of the closing. That way, the guy would come in, install, and be done before we even entered the house. Twice, my appointment was confirmed for 8am.. Twice confirmation calls... Twice, no one showed up... Was told that because the previous owner (who died last year) didn't cancel his account, so I needed proof of purchase... We had no data left at this point, and were sleeping on the trailer mattresses in the house. After about 10 phone calls, 6 e-mails, someone finally said they'd send a tech in to install (house was already wired for fibre, I just needed the model, but was told I was wrong by multiple call centre employees, install is 3 hours). Guy FINALLY came, and was done in 20 minutes.
tl;dr - my move was one of the worst I've ever heard of, and I spent years advising people about military moves for a living. Sorry to those who I didn't get to say goodbye... Everything happened really fast, and furious... But if you read the above, you'll see why I've been so quiet the last two weeks... We're moving in still and trying to breathe.
whew
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2020.08.09 02:29 digital4kcollector (Offer) my list (request) your list

Hey new username, formerly littlejohn04
**4K Disney/Marvel*\*
**HD Disney/Marvel/Star Wars*\*
**collections*\*
**HD unless noted as 4k*\* ​

**Standard Definition Movies*\*
**XML CODES*\*
Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter / avengers / Broken City / Captain America First Avenger / Chronicle / Despicable Me / diary of a wimpy kid 3 dog days / die hard 5 / Family guy it's a trap / Fast And Furious / Fast And Furious Tokyo Drift / Green zone / Hitchcock / ice age / Inglorious Basterds / iron man 2 / jumper / kung fu panda 2 / life of pi / Lincoln / Mamma Mia! / Monsters Inc / parental guidance / Rio / percy Jackson sea of monsters / percy jackson the lightning thief / Prometheus / the proposal / Puss in Boots / rio / Skyfall / The Fast And The Furious / The Hangover / the heat / the town / Trainspotting / the town / walking with dinosaurs / Xmen / Xmen First Class / Xmen the wolverine
TV shows*
Screen passes list
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New releases 4k preferred Itunes preferred if not MA
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2020.08.06 03:24 fifa_1995 Possible plot for Fantastic Beasts 3!!! And maybe 4 and 5

Possible plot for Fantastic Beasts 3 and last two installments:
1.ARIANA DUMBLEDORE WAS AN OBSCURIAL!!!!!
We know that obscurials were young wizards who suppressed their magic and emotions, as a result of physical or mental abuse. They were releasing an obscurus, the parasitic black energy, that was destroying everything around. An obscurus separated from its host is useless and cannot survive on its own for long. The obscurial could not be killed when he freed the obscurus, because the obscurus will be shattered into many pieces, and then the pieces will fall back together and, in this case, the obscurial further lives. We know that Credence Barebone (Corvus Lestrange/Aurelius Dumbledore) was an obscurial, because his adoptive mother Mary Lou Barebone was beating him regularly. Gellert Grindelwald did not believe that Credence could be an obscurial, and in a fit of anger, called him a squib, sensing his magical roots, but his lack of ability. Due Aberforth Dumbledore's words, Aberforth's and Albus' sister, Ariana, was nice and gentle most of the time, when she was calm, she helped him feed the goats. But there were times when she was furious, strange and dangerous, often resulting in outbursts like the one who killed their mother, Kendra. That is typical reference of an obscurial. She also was suspected by people in Godric's Hollow, that she was a squib, because she never went to Hogwarts.
2.ARIANA DUMBLEDORE WAS KILLED BY... GELLERT GRINDELWALD!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bathilda Bagshot had revealed to Rita Skeeter that shortly after Ariana's death Grindelwald came back shaky and used the Portkey to leave Godric's Hollow. Aberforth Dumbledore told Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger in the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade that Grindelwald run away, because he already had something on his conscience in his country, he did not want to be accused of Ariana's death yet. In Limbo, after destroying the Horcrux in Harry Potter's head by Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, Albus Dumbledore told Harry that Grindelwald lost control, but Dumbledore never revealed to Harry who killed Ariana. Presumably during the fight between Aberforth, Albus and Grindelwald, she tried to free the obscurus and break the duel between the three wizards, which also led to her death, where Grindelwald casted the killing curse. However, Aberforth never blamed himself for Ariana's death, unlike Albus. I suspect that in the 5th film, during the duel between Albus and Grindelwald in 1945, Grindelwald will try to lie to Albus that Albus killed Ariana and that she was the first person, who died "For The Greater Good". J.K. Rowling once revealed herself that she "thought she had made it clear enough who killed Ariana".
3.BLOOD PACT WAS MADE BEFORE FIGHT BETWEEN GRINDELWALD AND ABERFORTH AND INTERFERENCE OF ALBUS!!!!!
We know that in 1899, when Gellert Grindelwald arrived to Godric's Hollow to explore the grave of Ignotus Peverell, he met Albus Dumbledore and planned with him to rule over the Muggles and plan to find the three Deathly Hallows: the Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand. During this time they also made a Blood Pact and the mixed blood of both wizards was in the pendant that Grindelwald was having. I think, that Blood Pact is similar to the Unbreakable Vow. When you swore an Unbreakable Vow, you promised to kill someone, if you did not complete the task, you would die. In this case, if Grindelwald and Dumbledore had faced a duel, and the pendant with their blood still existed, both wizards would have died. I also think that the fight where Grindelwald used the Cruciatus on Aberforth and Albus tried to interfere (probably by using a shield charm) doesn't count, because it was a one-on-one duel.
4.CREDENCE IS NOT AURELIUS DUMBLEDORE. THIS IS A LIE FROM GELLERT GRINDELWALD!!!!!
In the end of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Gellert Grindelwald revealed to Credence Barebone, who supposed to be Corvus Lestrange, that he is Aurelius Dumbledore. We know that pure-blood wizards suspected that Credence has to be son of Corvus (IV), the Corvus (V) and half-brother of Leta Lestrange. Corvus in latin means raven. During the Leta flashbacks in 1927, we see that Newt Scamander in 1910 is caring for a raven chick. When Grindelwald is gathering his followers in Paris to go to the Lestrange Mausoleum on Pere-Lachaise Cemetery, he sends a black curtains with the sign of the raven, and the raven is the emblem of the Lestrange family. We also saw, that Credence is caring for a chick in Paris, all people probably thought that was a raven. But in Nurmengard, in Austria, Grindelwald revealed to Credence that was not a raven, but a phoenix, and that in his family there is a legend that phoenix will fly to one of its members when he is in dire need or distress. He also revealed him that his brother, Albus, wants to destroy him, he gives him a wand and a name: Aurelius Dumbledore. THAT IS A LIE! In the deleted scene from Crimes of Grindelwald, Dumbledore after creating the fog and using the Deluminator in London to avoid being seen by the Ministry of Magic agents, Albus told Newt Scamander that many years ago he has heard the rumors that Grindelwald had a vision in which the obscurial kills the man Grindelwald feared the most, to which Newt responded "you". We know that later after one of the battles somewhere in Europe, Grindelwald had a vision in which he saw the obscurus destroying New York and the face of Credence. Grindelwald traveled to New York and Paris to use Credence as a weapon against Dumbledore, because he can't fight with Dumbledore himself due the Blood Pact. To make Credence even more fooled, he gave him a phoenix, but probably during the Credence's fight with Dumbledore, which will probably occur in 3 or 4 part of the film, the phoenix will help Dumbledore. (THAT IS PROBABLY FAWKES, HIS ORIGINS AND HOW HE GET INTO DUMBLEDORE'S POSESSION, THERE ALSO WILL BE SEQUENCE HOW FAWKES GIVES TWO FEATHERS TO TWO WANDS: HARRY POTTER'S AND LORD VOLDEMORT'S. THEN DUMBLEDORE GIVES THE WANDS TO OLLIVANDER)
5.NAGINI WILL TRANSFORM INTO A SNAKE PERMANENTLY, WHEN CREDENCE WILL DIE!!!!!!!!!!!
In Circus Arcanus, Credence befriendend Nagini, the maledictus. We know that the maledictus is a wizard, who has a blood curse and has the ability to transform into an animal when he want, like the animagus, but the animagus acquires these abilities and the maledictus has them from birth, and over time the maledictus transforms into this animal permanently, possibly as the effect of any traumatic event. Probably this moment will come when Credence will fight Dumbledore. Option 1: Dumbledore will tell Credence the truth of who he is and that Credence is not Aurelius and his brother. Credence will attack Grindelwald and will die as a result. OPTION 2: Credence will not believe in Dumbledore's words, and Dumbledore will be forced to kill him with a help of the phoenix. Grindelwald will say that this is another person that Dumbledore sacrifices "For The Greater Good". In both cases, Nagini finds that if it weren't for Dumbledore and Grindelwald's war, Credence would be alive, as a result of which she transforms permanent into a snake and vows revenge by joining Lord Voldemort in the future.
6.DUMBLEDORE WILL DESTROY BLOOD PACT'S PENDANT WITH GODRIC GRYFFINDOR'S SWORD!!!!
We know that after the Battle in the Lestrange Mausoleum, Newt Scamander delivered Albus Dumbledore the pendant with mixed blood of Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. We also know that Dumbledore wasn't ready to duel Grindelwald until the pendant wasn't destroyed. We know from the Harry Potter books that Dumbledore was sorted into Gryffindor, and that the sword will reveal only to the true Gryffindor.
7.NEWT SCAMANDER AND THESEUS SCAMANDER WERE PURE-BLOODS, BUT ALSO BLOOD TRAITORS!!!!!!!!!
In the deleted scene from Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Leta Lestrange and Theseus Scamander attended the ball of pure-blood wizards in Paris. Only purebloods were allowed to attend this ball, so Theseus had to be pure-blood, which automatically meant Newt Scamander too. However, since Newt stayed close to Albus Dumbledore, who was a half-blood wizard and a Muggle and Muggle-born wizards enthusiast, it meant Newt was a blood traitor. Newt was also not against marrying Muggles. Theseus probably shared Newt's views, since he also had a relationship with Dumbledore.
8.NEWT SCAMANDER'S PATRONUS WAS... AN OCCAMY AND TINA GOLDSTEIN'S WAS... A SALAMANDER!!!!!
In one of the reviews, J.K. Rowling when asked what is Newt's patronus, she replied "a big spoiler". I think that Occamy will be, because this the beast, that he catches when he befriends Jacob Kowalski, the muggle. Later, he catches the same creature and falls in love with Tina Goldstein, with whom it is known that sooner or later he will get married, have children and will live in Dorset. So I think this creature is very important to him, if not most important, besides the niffler and the bowtruckle. Tina's patronus will be salamander... In the first and second installment of the FB films, there are the songs called "Newt Says Goodbye To Tina" (first film) and Salamander Eyes (second film), where Newt and Tina have their touching moments (farewell at the port in the New York, confessing the truth at the Ministry of Magic in Paris)
9....THIS MEANS THAT IN THE NEXT PARTS THERE WILL BE... A DEMENTORS?
If Rowling said that revealing Newt's patronus is a big spoiler, it means the patronus will be in the next movies, so he must have used this spell against the Dementors (or maybe Lethifold, against which the Patronus Charm is also used). We know that third movie will take place in Brazil. Isn't that a good place for dementors to appear? The country of the favela and the spectre of the Second World War and the Global Wizarding War against Grindelwald provide a good backdrop for the dementors. These are sad thoughts that they might feed on. (Death of Leta and death of next person)
10.WAR REQUIRES CASUALTIES, THEREFORE NEXT PERSON WILL DIE...
I think that Credence Barebone, Theseus Scamander and Yusuf Kama are good candidates for killing, although I am sad to including them on this list.
11.OBSCURUS IS A... SMALL DEMENTOR?
We know that the Obscurus feeds on emotions similar to those of dementor's: sadness, regret, hatred, despair. As if that was not enough, in Newt Scamander's suitcase, the obscurus of an 8-year-old Sudanese girl was floating in a Snowy Habitat. It is known that in every place where dementors appeared, it was unnaturally cold and everything was frozen. The dementors were born of the fog and were all black, and the obscurus was like a black fog, something similar to horcrux, which Harry Potter and Ron Weasley opened in the Forest of Dean. Does it mean that horcrux is also somehow related to obscurus? Regarding the topic that the obscurus is a little dementor, Rowling herself wrote that she liked the theory.
12.WHO GAVE HAGRID THE ARAGOG'S EGG?????
There is a theory that Newt Scamander gave Rubeus Hagrid the Aragog's egg. I think this theory is wrong, because although Newt was a traveler and Hagrid was given an egg by a traveler, Newt was a magizoologist and he would not knowingly give a thirteen-year-old half-giant, but still a thirteen-year-old, an acromantula egg. Newt classified acromantula in his Fantastic Beasts book as XXXXX, a potential wizard killer. But... "I mean how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pocket"... We know that Quirinus Quirrell on Lord Voldemort's orders give Hagrid the egg of Norwergian Ridgeback dragon. Also how many people wander around with basilisk eggs in their pocket... Salazar Slytherin placed the basilisk at Hogwarts... So how many people wander around with acromantula eggs in their pocket...? Maybe Grindelwald albo someone from Grindelwald's acolytes.
13.CREDENCE'S OBSCURUS IS ARIANA'S OBSCURUS?
There is a theory that after Ariana died, her obscurus was so powerful that it placed in Credence. This is one of the most nonsensical theories I have read about on the internet. Credence was beaten by his adoptive mother and became an obscurial, and Ariana was beaten by three Muggle boys and was probably an obscurial too. This theory simply reminds how a part of Voldemort's soul placed in Harry making him a horcrux.
14.BRASIL! SAMBA! RIO DE JANEIRO!
Exactly what is Brazil associated with? With the 2014 FIFA World Cup. I suspect that in FB3, Newt will take Jacob to the Quidditch World Cup, looking for a way to destroy the blood pact pendant along the way. We know that during the First Wizarding War (1970-1981) and the Second (1995-1998) the Quidditch World Cup was canceled. The same was probably during the the First and Second World Wars, but what about the interwar period? Isn't the last time we should see some quidditch?
15.QUEENIE GOLDSTEIN WAS A DOUBLE-AGENT!!!!!!!!!!
Queenie Goldstein was skilled in legilimency, so she can read someone else's mind. But can't she also be skilled in occlumency? I think she will later close her mind against Gellert Grindelwald. She will be a kind of double agent. Later she probably marry Jacob Kowalski, because there was a USA quidditch player known as Quentin Kowalski.
  1. THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX TO FIGHT GELLERT GRINDELWALD!!!!
The book with phoenix on it, which Nicolas Flamel had in his home in Paris to contact Albus Dumbledore to talk about Gellert Grindelwald's rally in Lestrange Mausoleum at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was busy, so Flamel contacted Eulalie Hicks, a teacher from Ilvermorny. Probably there was the first Order of the Phoenix to fight Grindelwald and Flamel was one of his members. Probably others were: Newt Scamander, Theseus Scamander (double-agent at British Ministry), Tina Goldstein, Queenie Goldstein (double-agent at Grindelwald's acolytes), Yusuf Kama, Eulalie Hicks...
17.CREDENCE BAREBONE'S ADOPTION PAPERS WITH THE FALSE DATE OF BIRTH!!!!!
We know that Corvus Lestrange and Credence Barebone were switched on the ship during the trip to New York in 1901. Corvus Lestrange drowned and Credence survived. However, when Credence found his adoption papers there is a birth date on it: November 9th, 1904. The date is false because Corvus (IV) heard that Yusuf Kama had taken an Unbreakable Vow and promised to kill Corvus (V), so on the document the date was falsified to make Kama difficult to find Corvus (V), who was supposed to be Credence.
18.GRINDELWALD, DUMBLEDORE AND NEWT WERE PARSELMOUTHS LIKE HARRY AND VOLDEMORT!!!
We know that Dumbledore communicated with centaurs, goblins, trolls, merpeople... Visiting the Pensieve with Harry Potter, he understood what Voldemort and Morfin were talking about in the Parseltongue. However, Dumbledore did not use this speech because it was sorcerous. We know Dumbledore told Harry that he didn't need the Cloak of Invisibility to become invisible, a Disillusionment Charm would suffice for that. He also himself described Grindelwald as a wizard slightly inferior to him in witchcraft. Does that mean Grindelwald was also a Parselmouth? And Newt... in the deleted scene from Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, Newt had a two runespoors in his suitcase. Runespoor is a three-headed snake. Newt showed that he was able to communicate with the graphorns and erumpents. Does that mean he used a Parseltongue to catch the runespoor?
19.DID DUMBLEDORE WAS LOOKING FOR THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS?
I think Dumbledore was looking for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in 1943, because he knew it was Voldemort who opened it, from the moment Voldemort told him in Wool's Orphanage that he is parseltongue. Dumbledore also knew that Voldemort was related to the Gaunts, so shortly after the murder of the Riddle family and the imprisonment of Morfin Gaunt in Azkaban, Dumbledore paid a visit to Morfin to get a memory from him. Dumbledore also knew that Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets and that he was innocent, so he vouched for him and told Armando Dippet to make Hagrid as a helper of the gamekeeper Ogg. Dumbledore, to make sure, probably alerted Newt Scamander to check if Aragog was able to kill Martha Warren (he was, but not in that way, not by looking).
20.GRINDELWALD HAD A VISION OF TOM RIDDLE AND FLEAMONT POTTER!!!!!
We know that Grindelwald wanted to collect all of the Deathly Hallows. Shortly after Ariana's death he stolen the Elder Wand from Mykew Gregorovitch's wand shop. Grindelwald was also a Seer and he saw a vision of an powerful obscurial. At the beginning of the first part of the movie, we see newspaper clippings, and the Daily Prophet mentions Harry Potter's grandfather, Fleamont, who created the Sleekazy's Hair Potion, which Hermione Granger used during the Yule Ball. Fleamont thus quadrupled the Potters' wealth, but Grindelwald might have had a vision of a man in glasses from Godric's Hollow having the Cloak of Invisibility. When Voldemort arrived at the Gaunt shack in the Little Hangleton, he stunned his uncle Morfin Gaunt, took his wand and went to the Riddle house where he killed his muggle father and grandparents with Morfin's wand. Then he came back and implanted his uncle with a false memory and stole from him the ring with the Resurrection Stone on it. Grindelwald may have had a vision of a young man from Little Hangleton carrying the last hallow. Does that mean Grindelwald wanted to recruit them both, just like Credence? Maybe he wanted to visit Riddle at Wool's orphanage in London?
21.CREDENCE BAREBONE IS CORVUS... GAUNT!!!!!
Gaunt and Barebone are synonyms. Gaunt means scrawny, haggard. Barebone means skinny, scrag. In Circus Arcanus, Credence befriended one of the most loyal Lord Voldemort's servants, Nagini. Credence is from the old pure-blood family... but not Lestrange. Voldemort, in addition to Merope, Morfin and Marvolo Gaunts, had an ancestor named Corvinus Gaunt, who lived in the 1700s and hid the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets under the sink when the elaborate plumbing system was installed in Hogwarts. "Corvinus" also is the diminutive of "Corvus", which derives "raven". Credence supposed to be Corvus.
22.GRINDELWALD KILLED SOMEONE IN DURMSTRANG?????
Grindelwald was expelled from Durmstrang in 1899, due his twisted experiments, even in a school famous for teaching the dark magic, they stopped turning a blind eye to his antics. Aberforth Dumbledore told Harry, Ron and Hermione in Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade, that Grindelwald had something on his conscience before Ariana died. Does that mean he murdered someone in Durmstrang?
23.DUMBLEDORE'S AND GRINDELWALD'S DUEL IN 1945 WILL TAKE PLACE IN... THE GODRIC'S HOLLOW!!!!
I think that this legendary duel will take place, where it's all started, where Grindelwald met Dumbledore, where they made a Blood Pact, where they share their plans for searching the Deathly Hallows and coming out of hiding from the muggles, where Ariana was killed.
24.DUMBLEDORE REPAIRED HAGRID'S WAND WITH THE ELDER WAND
After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter fixed his wand with the Elder Wand. Probably in the same case, Dumbledore, after winning the duel vs Grindelwald, used the Elder Wand to repair Hagrid's wand, then placed it in an pink umbrella.
25.GRINDELWALD'S LAST VISION
When Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and imprisoned him in one of the cells of Nurmengard, a fortress that Grindelwald built for his enemies, Grindelwald will likely give Dumbledore a vision of the worst evil that the wizarding world will face: LORD VOLDEMORT.
A lot of content and reading, but what do you think about it?
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2020.07.29 12:49 OneWhoRemembers [Part 3] The Tolstoy Wing

[Part 1] can be found here, the previous entry here.
- - -
After several hours of driving I arrived at a small wooden jetty, unmarked and overgrown as I was told it would be. There were two small rowing boats moored on either side as well as a third on the opposite bank. I paddled across, and after climbing the ridge on the other side I spotted a small brick house nestled on a plateau halfway up the mountain.
The weather was bleak. Grey clouds blotted out the sun and I was pelted by a cold rain that bounced off my head and shoulders like hail. As I reached the plateau I took a moment to catch my breath and turned to drink in the vista spread out behind me. The world was beautifully still in that moment, peaceful in its monochrome misery. As I moved to turn away I spotted a large black car meander along the narrow dirt track I had taken, slowing briefly as it passed my own before speeding away.
I made my way up to the house and pounded on the door, and it was gingerly answered by a squirrelly little fellow with a bushy salt-and-pepper beard. Somehow, he didn't seem particularly surprised to see me.
'Ah,' he said once we were seated in a dim and dirty kitchen. The stone walls were flecked with patches of dark mould. The beams above my head were black with a century of grease. 'I'm surprised it took you so long to find us.'
'Mrs. Taggart got a message to you after all then?'
'Who? Good lord, Beryl? No I haven't spoken to her in years. Wait a minute, are you not... with them?'
'I'm not with anyone sir. I'm uh, looking into my uncle's murder. I thought you might be able to help me find his killer.'
The old man chuckled, apparently relieved.
'I'm a historian not a detective mate.'
I pulled two photographs from my breast pocket, both versions of the druidic symbol.
'What can you tell me about this?'
He sighed, disappointed.
'Did you see anyone else on your way up here?'
'No?' I shrugged. 'Wait, yes, a black car drove by not ten minutes ago.'
'Ho bloody 'ell.'
He wrung his head in his hands for a long moment, then stood and pulled me into an adjacent room towards a bookcase on the far wall. He tweaked a hidden lever and it sprung open to reveal a set of stone steps. He passed me a torch and pointed into the darkness.
'Go,' he said. 'I'll be with you in a moment.'
Figuring I could overpower him if this was some kind of trap, I obeyed and the bookcase clicked shut behind me. I was in a small concrete basement set up like a bomb shelter complete with bunks, a chemical toilet, and stacks of canned food.
I sat down on one of the bunks and waited, thumbing 'record' on the dictaphone in my pocket: the rest of the dialogue in this entry is transcribed verbatim. My eyes were eventually drawn to an open cabinet in the middle of the room. There were guns inside; a couple of shotguns, a WWII era rifle, a small snub-nosed revolver, and boxes of ammunition for all of them. Without thinking I grabbed the revolver and loaded it. As the last bullet slid into the chamber the bookcase popped open once more and the old man returned, his arms around the shoulders of an even older gentleman.
'Bit of help if you wouldn't mind?'
I pocketed the gun and helped ease the older fellow into one of the bunks.
'That symbol of yours. It's rare.'
'I know. What can you tell me about it?'
The historian pulled the bookcase closed, locked it tight, and pulled a curtain across.
'Lower your voice please,' he said. He sat on one of two small chairs and gestured to the other. He lit a few candles and a warm orange glow swelled to fill the room. I turned off my torch.
'Well?' I whispered.
'Myself and Mrs. Taggart wrote a book about ancient cultures and religious sects that have persisted to the present, and this symbol was one of my personal favourites. You see, this particular sect was impenetrable, so secretive nobody had even heard of them. My friend over there was my source, you see he used to be one of them. They've been trying to find him, and myself, for many years now. Unfortunately it looks like you led them right here.'
I began profusely apologising but he raised a silencing hand.
'You weren't to know. Now you do.'
'But why?'
'To keep the secret, and this is why conducting your investigation puts you at risk. They wouldn't have been able to follow you here were they not already watching.'
We sat in silence for a while. I could hear something, a distant rattling and then the crunch of broken glass. At one point there were audible footsteps across the floorboards directly above our heads. I pulled the revolver from my pocket and the historian nodded approvingly. He eased one of the shotguns out of its case and began slowly loading a pair of shells into it.
The next day the noises returned, louder this time as more bodies arrived and began to tear the place apart. All we could do was sit silently in the candlelight and hope we weren't discovered.
Halfway through the third day the historian agreed that it had been long enough since he last heard anything for us to peek our heads out and have a look. I stalked around the house as quietly as I could with my back against the wall, bursting gun-first into each room like I had seen cops do in the movies.
The place was trashed but otherwise empty. They had ripped out everything, even the plaster from the walls and the power cables from their sockets.
'They probably thought we managed to sneak away somehow. We should do that now while they're busy scratching their heads.'
'We could take my car-'
'No, they would have sabotaged it, or put a tracker on it. If they're still watching anything out here it'll be your car I reckon.'
'Not this place?'
'From where? Too dark and cold. Our only way out of here is across the moor. At night.'
I shuddered at the thought but reluctantly agreed. We crept back into the hidden basement and filled two knapsacks with food and camping gear. The historian produced three thick fleecy jackets and we all suited up. I was worried for the older gentleman, worried that at best he might slow us down and at worst could die of exposure.
We set off down the mountain away from the river. We went slow and steady; the historian wouldn't let us use our lights and the ground was most treacherous. I pointed out a little copse of trees as a potential campsite, but both the historian and the old man shook their heads.
'No trees,' said the old man. It was the first time I'd heard him speak.
We eventually pitched a small tent under the eaves of an exposed ridge, huddling together until first light when we continued the journey. It was almost the following nightfall when we reached the nearest town, and after we stashed the guns in a bush outside I paid cash for three rooms at a small inn on the outskirts. We washed, ate, rested up for a few hours, and then met at the bar where I intended to push for more information.
The old man looked distant, staring off into space with a dram of whiskey clutched in his gnarled fingers. The historian was slumped beside him with his head in his hands. His eyes were fixed on his untouched beer.
I bought myself a glass of red wine and joined them.
'Thanks for the room,' said the historian. 'I'll get the money back to you somehow.'
'Don't worry about it. It's my fault we're here at all, right?'
He shrugged his shoulders.
'Mind if I ask you a few questions?' I eventually pushed.
'I called a friend of mine when we first arrived.' He nodded at a pay phone in the corner. 'A car will be arriving for us soon. Me and him I mean, you should make your own arrangements. Speaking of cars, you shouldn't go back to yours. Feign mechanical failure. Get it towed, then sell it. Use a proxy if you can.'
A took a deep gulp of wine and sucked my teeth, struggling to make eye contact.
'Fine, uh, I appreciate the advice. Now I'm sorry, you gotta tell me: who are they?'
The historian sighed and rolled his eyes, then finally took a slow sip of his pint as he considered a response.
'You can't beat them mate, stop this, yeah? I tried and got lucky time after time but I barely scratched the surface. And look at me now! This is all a fool's errand, trust me.'
'They killed my uncle.'
'They kill people sometimes, I'm sorry but that's the way it is.'
'I'm not willing to let this go.'
'Don't you understand? The more you know the more danger you're in, the more rocks you turn over the bigger the target on your back grows.'
Realising we had at this point both considerably raised our voices, I caught a reproachful glare from the barmaid and resolved to shut my mouth. I looked away and finished my drink, and was contemplating another when I witnessed a change come over the old man. He was grinning at me. The glazed look in his rhuemy little eyes was now ablaze with furious focus.
'You're a daft boy ain't you?' he clucked. 'Dunno with what your meddling with son, and all because we killed your uncle? Heh.'
'We?'
The historian must have seen my fists bunch and my shoulders tense up because he raised his palms.
'No-no, it's not what you think. He's not with them anymore, trust me.'
'What do you know about it?' I hissed at the old man. 'What do you know about it?' I turned my glare to the historian.
'Oh for god sake...' The historian wrung his hands and stared at his boots. 'Like I told you he was with them once, back in the 50's through to the 80's, but he managed to get away. Lived on the run ever since. I helped him hide and in exchange he gave me information.'
'Which you then published.'
'His story made its way into some of my books, yes. Rest assured he's not with them, hasn't been for a long time, and has no contact. They want him dead even more than me. Even more than you.'
The bar door swung open and a bald-headed man in a trim black suit and leather driving gloves glanced around. His attention settled on us and the historian gave him a subtle nod.
'Time for us to go,' said the historian. He drained his almost full pint in one swallow and heaved himself onto his feet. 'We won't see each other again but my advice stands; stay away unless you want to disappear.'
The old man was still grinning at me.
'You want my advice?'
'Sure,' I replied.
'Read more books.' He stared at a beer mat on the table and tapped it hard with a long finger. 'Nobody reads anymore. Science Fiction was aways my favourite; dreams of the future.' He spread his arms wide in wonder. 'And of the Uncanny.'
He glared at me with that last word and tapped his temple as he had the beermat. Then they left, and I never saw either of them again. The driver on the other hand, the bald man, we would run into one another again at a later date but that's a story for another day.
I ordered another wine and sat in a booth out of sight where I could enjoy it in quiet solitude. I thought about every word the old man had said, wringing them over and over in my mind until something clicked. I bolted back to the table we had shared and flipped the beermat: Cleckheaton Hall, Room 183 was scrawled in uneven blocky letters.
Some time later I made it home, and taking the historian's advice called to have my car towed and sold at auction as-is. I mailed the keys that afternoon.
Cleckheaton Hall as it turned out was a stately home, now a hotel in the town of the same name. It is also one of several locations visited on my travels that no longer exists. There is no record in books, newspapers or on the internet, nobody in the local community remembers it, and at the site of that huge gothic cuboid is merely an unkempt and overgrown wood frequented only by doggers and fly-tippers.
Cleckheaton Hall was only an hour's drive from my home, so I borrowed my sister's van and crawled around the backroads until I was sure I wasn't being followed before heading straight over. I winced when I saw it, not for its enormous brooding size or imposing black spires, but because it looked so expensive.
'I'd like to book a room please,' I told the smiling receptionist. 'For tonight if that's no trouble.'
'Not at all,' she replied. 'We're pretty quiet this time of year. Have you visited us before?'
'A few times,' I lied.
'Do you have a favourite floor or wing?'
'Is room 183 available?'
She furrowed her brow thoughtfully and consulted the system.
'I'm afraid not sir, 160 through to 190 are all privately-owned rooms.'
'You have permanent residencies here?'
She chewed the inside of her cheek.
'Not exactly,' she said. 'I mean, they're empty as far as I know, but this is a super old house with all kinds of history. Those rooms are all in the Tolstoy Wing.'
'Named after the Russian writer?'
'No sir, after the benefactor who paid to have it built. No relation as far as I know.'
'And when was it purchased may I ask?'
'Oh goodness...' She slowly shook her head, pouted and widened her eyes; unsure. 'At least a hundred years ago, maybe longer. Maybe way longer. You should ask Basil the groundskeeper, he knows all about the history of this place.'
'Okay thank you miss.' I took my key. 'You take care now.'
My room wasn't far from the Tolstoy Wing, on the fourth floor with a narrow balcony overlooking a walled-in courtyard. The corridors were long and winding, and the walls, ceilings and even floors were bowed and warped, twisted by time. The place was largely empty, though I had passed two different maids and their trollies as well as a pair of fellow guests after an afternoon spent pacing around and exploring. I once spotted from a second floor window the groundskeeper tending a vegetable bed, but he was gone by the time I worked my way downstairs and outside.
I chose to walk the grounds and marvelled in the beautiful gardens, topiary, and even a small hedge maze. Did one man really do all this? Looking at the size and relative emptiness of the place it was easy to imagine the estate freezing all but the most essential of expenditures.
Some of the topiary pieces were different from the others; the replica of the Great Sphinx and the train with its 5 carriages, the spheres and the pyramids, all were pristine. However anything that resembled a human form looked neglected; all (and I passed at least a dozen) were trailing a veil of vines and were swollen to the proportions of an astronaut, spacesuit and all.
Circling the hotel so closely I began to gather a feeling of the place. I could see where the oldest core of the building fanned out into spiral arms of increasingly modern architecture. A barn conversion-type event space here, a conservatory there, even a bladed arch of glass that from the faded signs in the front window was a half-finished and long-abandoned restaurant.
Then there was the Tolstoy Wing.
It was leeched onto one corner of the house like some great squat parasite, it's proboscis buried deep into the stonework to no doubt form the singular connecting door I had thus far been unable to locate from the inside. The exterior was almost entirely swaddled in thick ivy and other climbing plants, though I could just about make out an arching churchlike shape to it.
I spent some time wandering around looking for another door or even a window but the entire thing was sealed tight behind foliage. It was like a second skin, and quite beautiful to behold where it flowered into blossoms of red and purple.
After some more searching I discovered an unlocked shed and decided to look for some bolt cutters or perhaps a saw, intending to cut my way through to a window. Before I found anything I heard a cough nearby and managed to straighten up and look casual in time for the groundskeeper to appear. I clicked the 'record' button on the dictaphone in my pocket.
'Are you lost?' he barked at me. I could immediately tell he was suspicious.
'Just having a walk around,' I told him. 'I presume that's allowed?'
'And I presume you're a patron?' he snipped back.
'Of course.'
'Well then.' He sucked his teeth in defeat. 'I'll leave you to it. Lots to do.'
'I'll bet. Before you go, can I ask you something? About the Tolstoy Wing?'
He tensed up and looked away.
'What in the hell would you wanna know about that place for, eh? You some kind of journalist?'
'No.' I widened my eyes slightly and raised my hands in faux shock. 'A friend of mine had stayed here before and recommended a specific room. When I asked the receptionist for it she told me it was private. I guess I remembered the number wrong or something, I'm only curious.'
'Stay away from it, alright?' he told me sternly. 'I've had enough shit with these things as it is.' He jerked a thumb over one shoulder where there stood a trio of of the neglected humanoid topiary pieces.
'What do you mean?'
'Forget it. Just don't go near the place or there'll be trouble.'
'Well,' I began, formulating my response. 'I wasn't going to but you've piqued my interest now. What's so forbidden about it?'
The groundskeeper narrowed his eyes to slits beneath the brim of a battered flat cap. He reluctantly came closer and sighed irritably.
'It was a kind o' safehouse, an 'orrible little bolthole for a group of the creepiest fuckers I ever laid my eyes on. I were a boy at the time, helping my Da' and learning the ropes when I first saw 'em. The wing itself looked the same even in that time, still wrapped up tight in climbing plants. You could see a few windows though. I let 'em grow over.'
'Who were they?'
'Dunno. I thought priests at first, then maybe philosophers. When I got older and learned about the Freemasons I thought maybe I'd cracked it, but me Da' was a Freemason himself and told me those men weren't it. They wouldn't all be there all year round like, but there was always a light on inside even when I thought they'd all cleared out.'
'Even now?'
'Not for a few years but they'll be back. They always are, ever since Tolstoy built the place in 1649.'
'It's that old?'
'Oh aye. You American or somethin'? Everything's that old around here. Thing is I caught a few peeks during those youthful years when I was daft and brave.'
'What did you see?'
'Experiments. Shelves full of jars and chemicals, all those glass tubes and beakers and things.'
'Sounds like a drug lab,' I muttered.
The groundskeeper chuckled and grinned, perhaps warming to me a little.
'Nah nothin' like that. The very first time I scaled the ivy and looked into a window I saw a big wooden table and some of the men in weird medical outfits. They were doing things to plants, just everyday plants like, performing weird autopsies usin' instruments I've never seen before or since.'
'Instruments?'
'Aye, wooden clockwork things, though some had electronics and battery packs strapped to 'em too. I remember one in particular was like a fat pencil, rigid as you'd expect, but when they passed it over the plant it would pulse an' twitch like a fuckin' witchety grub. Horrid it was. They could somehow read its movements which they wrote in this massive leather-bound ledger. Whenever they'd leave en masse they'd take the ledger with 'em. Thing is, they kept it in this thick stone box that took 6 of 'em to lift.'
'Why the box?'
'No idea.'
'This is fascinating,' I admitted. 'And very spooky I have to say.'
The groundskeeper was on a roll now. He even pulled a thin black cigar from his breastpocket and sparked up with a kitchen match.
'You haven't heard the half of it mate.' He took a deep lungful of smoke and exhaled throatily. 'Neither me nor me Da' ever spoke to any of 'em directly, but they left instructions with hotel management which were passed onto him an' then me when I took over. Y'see, the topiary hedges are part of the job an' always have been, but the man-shaped ones aren't my work. They grow like that.'
'Bollocks,' I told him; I couldn't help myself.
'Aye I'll forgive ye for thinkin' such, but no it ain't bollocks I'm afraid. I call 'em 'mimicweed' but thing is, it ain't even the same plant every time. Was a rosebush once.'
'What do you do with them?'
'Kill 'em, dig 'em out, burn 'em. It's not easy though, they don't like being pulled up.'
'What do you mean?'
'They're just dead hard to remove, even the ones formed from plants that should be easy. Big, thick white roots that go deep and wide, and wrap tightly around anythin' they find in the soil, rocks, pipes, other plants you name it. I'm on me own out here and every time I get rid of one two more pop up.'
'Fancy a hand?' I offered without thinking.
His bushy eyebrows perked up at that and he considered his wristwatch.
'You sure? With your help we could do 'em all this afternoon I reckon, but like I say it's hard work.'
'Sure.'
He wasn't kidding. I spent hours breaking my back plunging that spade into the soil over and over, but the experience gave me ample opportunity to examine the so-called 'mimicweed' in more detail. The groundskeeper had clearly been telling the truth; the roots on these plants were like nothing I'd ever seen before, pale rubbery white, some as thick as my wrist, most wrapped in a vicelike deathgrip around every surrounding object.
Above ground their growth was even stranger. Most plants tend to have a thick stem or trunk, and any branches then subdivide over and over smaller and smaller stretching up to the sun until they end in the smallest leafy twigs. The mimicweed was very different. The swollen roots were connected to a short trunk that stretched up into the 'crotch' of the figure where it then branched a little like a five-pointed star to form the limbs and spinal column. From these thickest branches grew only the thinnest of twigs, but they grew in a consistent and extremely dense pattern. It looked to me like a poor imitation of hair or fur.
We dragged them all to a small woodchipper at the back of the hotel and the groundskeeper gleefully fed them in limb-by-limb. Twilight was beginning to descend by the time we finished, and so we built a small fire and shared a few drams of whiskey.
'The last time I looked inside that place was a lot like the first,' he eventually told me. 'Those creepy fuckers all stood in their lab around the big wooden table doing their dissections and their autopsies. Not plants this time though, oh no, this time they were cutting up animals, all kinds of things, ferrets, cats, birds, toads, a goat, a small sheep. All of 'em were carefully spread open, scanned with those weird objects and the results written in that ledger of theirs. There was so much blood I could smell it through the glass.'
He shuddered and looked away.
'I can understand why you'd want me to keep away from it. I appreciate the explanation.'
'Ey you earned it.' He raised his glass and I tapped mine against it. 'I've been here all my life but that place is like a black hole. We don' go near it, none of us. Never have.'
I noticed something catch the firelight, a circular silvery object that hung from a chain around his ruddy jowled neck.
'What's that may I ask, a St. Christopher?'
'Nope, an ancient Roman denarius. Me Da' gave it to me when I were little, said it'd protect me from the worst of the shenanigans that go on around here.'
I pulled my uncle's coin from one pocket and held it up between forefinger and thumb.
'Would you believe it, I carry something similar.'
'Aye well keep it close,' he warned me sagely. 'Keep it very close, especially around these parts.'
I thanked him for the drink and told him I was heading off for some dinner. On my way back to the hotel under the cover of impending darkness I swiped a pair of bolt cutters, resolving to get inside the Tolstoy Wing later that night.

[Part 4] can be found here.
submitted by OneWhoRemembers to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.07.25 00:33 Eki75 Xavier DuPont de Ligonnès Article from Society, 23 Jul 2020, Part 1B [English]

Xavier DuPont de Ligonnès Article from Society, 23 Jul 2020, Part 1B [English]
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Versailles, July 2020

A lifelong friendship

The Dupont de Ligonnès are an aristocratic family originally from Vivarais, then transplanted to Gévaudan, whose nobility dates back to 1507 and whose descendants are made up of soldiers and ecclesiastics. Louis XV offered the title of marquis to one of them. Another married a sister of the poet Lamartine and their son was bishop of Lozère. In Mende, the narrow and sloping street where he had a diocesan house built still bears the name of Monsignor de Ligonnès today. In Chanac, to the west of Lozère, the family still owns the Château de Ressouches, a 16th century building located on the right bank of the Lot, listed as historical monuments since 1971. In the chapel, you can see the arms of the family, a golden helm accompanied by three silver stars. Xavier might erase this ancestry by simply being called Ligonnès, it was nonetheless his pride and he recalled it by wearing a signet ring decorated with the family crest. His father, Hubert Dupont de Ligonnès, was born on November 7, 1931 in Senlis. His mother, Geneviève Maitre, the year before in Versailles. The two married in 1955—for reason and without love, as is often the case these aristocratic families—and they settled in Cannes, where Hubert took a job as an aeronautical engineer. In September 1957, the couple had their first child, Véronique. But Geneviève, who had always been fragile and introverted, found it hard to put up with the distance from her family and wanted to return to Versailles to be closer to her parents. Hubert found an engineer position with the household appliance brand, Arthur Martin, and they established themselves at 50 rue du Maréchal-Foch. It is there, in this Versailles family home which looks exactly like the image that we can imagine from a Versailles family—pious, conservative, noble but penniless—Xavier was born in 1961, followed by Christine, in 1966. Xavier was a “very easy child,” according to Geneviève. He’s barely a teenager when the going gets tough on both sides. The father: adventurous, rational, bridge player, dreams of prosperity, fickle. He tries to set up a business but only accumulates debts, in particular with Urssaf [ed. taxes], since he did not deem it necessary to pay his contributions. He also maintains an affair with his secretary, Catherine, and leaves the home around 1972, before resuming his life with her in Ivory Coast, in 1979. The mother: devout, not of this world, enigmatic. She is engaged in what her daughter Véronique calls “communication with the beyond,” a religious esotericism which resembles an escape from material life. By announcing pending cataclysms, she instills in her children an atmosphere of constant fear which pushes the family to cut themselves off from the outside.
On leaving, Hubert leaves Geneviève in charge of the three children and all his debts: she is ruined. They will never divorce. Hubert will even keep his wedding ring until the end of his life, but his wife will not attend his funeral, and neither will his daughter Christine, whom he never saw again after 1979. Absences, then infidelities, then Hubert’s flight made Xavier Dupont de Ligonnès the head of the family. As a child, he was entitled to ten seconds every evening to tell his father what he had done during his day. This has built up his way of speaking - direct, with an automatic rifle flow - a fear of disappointing, a fierce desire to shine, but also an uncompromising conception of family loyalty. A man who abandons his family by flight or suicide does so because he does not love them. He considers whether it is egoism or cowardice. And since his father did not assume anything, the son, from the age of 13, decided to take everything upon himself, to be the one who would protect his sisters and his mother. He passed his baccalaureate, but after a first year in a business school in Paris, he had to give up his studies and work to support Geneviève and Christine. He does odd jobs, does handling. As if he wanted to be a father too early, he also got into a relationship with Agnès Hodanger, a girl from a good family whom he met in high school in 1979. They celebrate their engagement at the end of 1982, at just 20 and 21 years old. Xavier actually navigates between two worlds: on the one hand, this old corseted and reactionary world of the family circle and, on the other, a new liberal and gleaming world, which the United States then undertakes to define with Cadillacs, blue jeans, fast food, and the Beach Boys. Outside the family home, Xavier is at all the rallies and all the celebrations. He puts a cigarette in his mouth and dresses in a leather jacket, enchants himself with the local hooligans, in search of the thrill or the fury of living - it is rumored that he would not be totally unrelated to the theft of a few cars from Versailles. In the mid-1980s, he went down south, to Aix-en-Provence first, to treat a pneumothorax and overcome the gravity of Versailles. There he joined Véronique, who was living in Draguignan, and Emmanuel Teneur, of course, who also lives in the Var sub-prefecture. He was hired as a sales representative by the Société des Fertilizers Monnot (SEM), where he sold garden equipment for the PACA region. It was there that he met Michel Rétif, also a salesperson. Michel Rétif is the complete opposite of Emmanuel Teneur - extrovert, ladies’ man, adventurer - and quickly challenges him for the place of best friend. Michel and Xavier share a passion for the United States. Together, they will have a drink at L’air du Temps, a café in the Place aux Herbes in Draguignan. André, the boss, loves American cars, and his wife loves Elvis Presley and country music. Michel wears trendy denim shirts, tucked into pants matching his azure eyes. He has a southern sun-tanned face, dry, charismatic, and a James Dean or Johnny Hallyday look, giving the impression that he could jump on a motorcycle at any time. He also admires Xavier. To those close to him, to his companions, Michel is described as someone endowed with “somewhat supernormal skills,” “extremely intelligent,” having “incredible adaptability.” He feels about the same for this friend as he does for his brother and one replaces the other. Xavier becomes his model.

With Emmanuel Teneur (left) and Michel Rétif (right) in the United States in 1990
The love-life of Xavier and Agnès also undergoes internal tensions between order and adventure, which disturb him. She was his first time. He loves her as much as he loves the idea of ​​being true to their relationship, but they are still young, and he wants to discover everything. The summer of their engagement, in 1982, the couple went on vacation to Corsica, where Xavier met a young German girl called Claudia. Tall, blonde, and a camping model, Xavier fell madly in love with her and he left Agnès. Claudia returned to the Paris region alone and forgot about Xavier for a few years, increasing the number of trips back and forth between the Var and Hanover. In 1989, Xavier was made redundant by SEM. He is single. For the first time in his adult life, he is free of all responsibility, without forced ties. He then suggests to Michel Rétif to take a trip, the big trip: a road trip to the United States. At the end of the year, the two men fly to New York. They then go to Jacksonville, Florida, where Hugh, a cousin of Xavier resides. They buy a used car. Xavier is 28 years old, an age at when we can still reinvent ourselves, or finally assume who we have always wanted to be. The following months could be summed up by the names of cities (Key West, New Orleans, Austin, Los Angeles) or of girls met on the road (Mindy, Melissa), but their adventure was more internal. It becomes an initiation journey cementing a lifelong friendship and shapes the idea of the men they wish to become. They get drunk on this feeling of being able to seize any opportunity any time without anyone to bring them back to their duty of husband, son, employee.
It is also the first time in his life that Xavier Ligonnès earns money as easily as he wakes, quickly and on the go. There will eventually be three trips of three months each in quick succession, during which they estimate to have set foot in 48 of the 50 American states. The first round trip was financed by their unemployment or redundancy benefits. For the following ones, they invent a scam. Each time they return to France, they bring back American vehicles, those Cadillacs and Ford Mustangs that have always fascinated Xavier, to sell them at a significant profit. Even if it means repatriating several at once by tampering with registration certificates and playing on this extended name which multiplies the possible aliases: a car in the name of Dupont, another in Ligonnès and another in Dupont de Ligonnès. He is also domiciled in Rennes, where the sticker is free for vehicles running on LPG. He is proud of his little scheme, which he sees as proof of his intelligence.

In New Orleans, 1990
The two friends plan to extend the adventure, this time to New Caledonia, where another cousin of Xavier works as a banker for Crédit Agricole. And then one day, Xavier suddenly announces to Michel that he is canceling everything. While in Versailles, he saw Agnès again. She is pregnant with a little boy. The father—a certain François—left her and refused to recognize the child. New change of fate: Xavier blocks freedom and travel and resumes the course of his old life faster than a routed army beats a retreat. Agnés gives birth to Arthur in July 1990, Xavier recognizes him as his son and marries his high school girlfriend in September 1991, during an expedited ceremony.

The cave

The days following the discovery of the bodies and the abandoned car are days of frenzy. The picture of the father of the family (thin glasses, shapeless gray t-shirt) makes the headlines of all the newspapers, Marie Drucker opens the 8pm newscast talking about the “nightmare in a house in Nantes” and France, which likes to punctuate its history with various facts, plunges into the one that will mark its beginning of the century. Social networks are winning over society. For the first time, they become the ideal receptacle for conjecture and commentary on a criminal case which is quickly summed up by an acronym, in capital letters: XDDL. On Facebook, highly active groups are forming to “seek the truth,” attracting all the amateur investigators who once accumulated newspaper clippings and who now go through thousands of web pages to search the past of the protagonists. The first few days also gave rise to a large number of reports: Ligonnès looks like the ordinary man, the neighbor, so you can see his eyes everywhere, his smile, his allure. We meet a stranger and we wonder: what if it is him? We look at his best friend: would he be able to do the same? We look at his father: was ever tempted by this same gesture?
The newspapers paint the portrait of XDDL without knowing which foot to dance on. The first elements of the investigation show the premeditation of the crimes. On April 1, Ligonnès bought from the Castorama d’Orvault two ten-kilogram bags of quick cement, two rolls of gray adhesive tape, twelve extra-reinforced 50-liter garbage bags, a Lorraine hoe, and a spade. The next day, he obtained four sacks of quicklime, with which he covered the corpses of family members and dogs a few days later. After the murders, he continued to respond to text messages from his children’s friends. He got rid of the whole family’s computers and phones. In other words: there are not many people who doubt his guilt. But on the other hand, there are the testimonies of friends who describe a trouble-free family from good Nantes society, the good kind of chic, the father who works hard, the mother who goes to mass on Sundays, the children registered at the private school, two beautiful Labradors, Léon and Jules. Emmanuel Teneur defends his friend. Michel Rétif speaks of “the calm that reigned within the family.” The neighbors deliver to the journalists the formulas that one hears after each news item: courteous, discreet, without fuss. On Xavier Ligonnès, they are unanimous: ready to do anything for his children, full of integrity, and proud of his family.
This image resembles the mission that young Xavier set for himself when his father left: to become the respectable head of the family that Hubert did not know how to be. It means taking care of your children, being responsible. Xavier Ligonnès does not hide from anyone that Arthur is not his biological son but that he adopted him, he repeats, because he could not leave Agnès to raise him alone. It involves being successful, making money. In April 1992, he registered with the Draguignan trade and companies register - the couple settled in the Var - for a business selling olive wood objects which he intended to import from Tunisia. Then he imagines selling souvenir magnets on the Mediterranean coast. On June 1, 1993, he wrote a ten-page letter intended to entice investors. Over the years, he wrote dozens of similar letters, which alternated upper case, lower case, bold or underlined passages and bulleted lists—interminable letters to convince himself as much as his interlocutors. He systematically details the inventiveness (or the genius) of his concepts and their business model, rather dreaming of wealth aloud or planning to ride on the comet. He lives with this American belief in the “big blow,” which means rapid retirement by the sea, guaranteeing the material future of his family while saving himself from a life of toil and savings. And that’s exactly what he thinks he sees in 1999, after moving to Pornic, Loire-Atlantique, on his return from a family vacation in the United States. At a time when the domestic Internet is democratizing and where you seem to be able to become a millionaire with the flick of a wand, he has a simple and fashionable idea: a site listing the best hotel addresses for salespeople who, like him, roam the roads of France, which would provide hotels with a guarantee of regular customers and users with preferential rates. In short, a sort of Booking.com for VRP, on which XDDL relies absolutely everything. He created an association, La Route des Commerciaux (RDC), then a company, Selref, to which would add a nebula of internet platforms and a second association, the Federation of salespeople, all dedicated to the same grand purpose.
We should then see XDDL as François M. saw it in June 2001, when he was hired to develop the DRC website. He set up an office on two trestles in the garage of the house in Pornic, where he spends his days canvassing hotels and imagining the possible profits. He drives in an American car (a large van registered in Florida, without French plates), he smokes hard, a Philip Morris light every quarter of an hour, and believes very strongly in his success. At the same time, Agnès’ father died and Agnès inherited around 350,000 euros in cash and real estate, including a theater in the 11th arrondissement of Paris, La Vacquerie ,” which she decided to sell to bet on this “business that starts very strong,” as she wrote then to her godfather. What is not invested in the development of the activities of XDDL is used to maintain the lifestyle of the family, which anticipates the future income of the website. It’s a nouveau riche existence: rented house with swimming pool, big cars, riding lessons and private school for children, trips. In the early 2000s, the Ligonnès even left for the United States for a while with the project to settle there so that Xavier assembles a replica of his site and to live the American awakening in Florida rather than in Pornic. The children are enrolled in school and between November 2002 and August 2003, everyone lives at the Little Inn by the Sea in Fort Lauderdale, a seaside motel. Less than a year after their departure, they nevertheless returned to France, where XDDL reactivated Selref and hired an army of salespeople, including his friends Michel Rétif and Cédric M.
But the brilliant idea did not take hold. The few hotels that have signed a check to appear on the La route des commercial site do not record the expected surplus of customers and do not renew their registration. Some even ask to be reimbursed and Xavier Ligonnès runs. Even at the start of the millennium, his site, which looks more like a blog with a scrolling banner than a professional platform, already seems dilapidated. This is probably the moment when he could have stopped the machine for the first time. It would have been enough to accept being wrong, to have bet on the wrong idea. But he clings to it at all costs. He spends what he earns in the expenses invested in traveling through France and praising his company as a missionary. He performs a few missions as a mystery shopper for the Sphinx company, hotel audits that bring him at most a few thousand euros per year. Perhaps, after all, it is already too late anyway: in the United States, the family swallowed up part of the inheritance by living in the hotel, the other in the high life and the barrel pierced of the Selref. In 2004, Xavier Ligonnès could no longer hide from Agnès his difficulties in getting money. The couple sometimes wonder how to make ends meet.
This bankruptcy is not only professional. It is also intimate, in love. Xavier Ligonnès manages both: ignoring it or pretending to ignore it. During the first months of effervescence, Agnès liked to discuss with him about his big project, she even called the salesmen of the DRC, suggested ideas on the presentation of the documents, but her husband did not give her a place, he was is locked into his role as head of the family in charge of household needs, stressed, unable to talk about work without getting carried away, and business had become a taboo subject. This unsaid, this silent anger, Agnès goes over them from Tuesday to Friday, when Xavier is on the roads, but also on weekends, which he spends in his office installed in the low-ceilinged basement of their new house in Nantes. You have to break in two to get through the door, the floor is dirt. The children’s friends will see XDDL come out every now and then in the middle of the night, country music blaring loudly. Agnès calls this his burrow - where she and the children are not welcome - “the cave.”

At a time when the internet is becoming more widespread, Xavier has an idea on which he is banking everything: a site listing the best hotels for businessmen who, like him, crisscross the roads of France.
In the house, Agnès is alone. Unhappy. From 2004, she expressed her despair on internet forums, pages and pages of messages that resemble the diary of a woman in the grip of her husband. She met Xavier in 1979, they married in 1991 and their relationship has never been what she expected since. She would like attention, gentleness, support, more moments shared with family, couples, friends, more looks, more openness. She loves him, but sometimes she starts to regard this love as a curse. Xavier is the man of her life, she told herself, but maybe he wasn’t meant to be. It’s too brittle, too stiff, or too military for that. On the forums, Agnès also wonders about her sexuality, wonders if she is “abnormal” because she masturbates several times a week, wants to have more frequent relations with her husband, to spice up their sex life. At the beginning of their relationship, he blocked her dead in her tracks, telling her “stop, not too much,” words that she still repeats years later, and which prevent her from living her desires freely. She finds that he is too little focused on the matter, too wise in their antics; sees things backwards, repeats that she is doing too much, pushes the blame on herself. Xavier Ligonnès sees himself as an adventurer, free, no doubt seductive, but the truth is that in the privacy of their bedroom, he is a prisoner of his conservative upbringing, unable to free himself. Agnès is afraid of cheating on him if nothing changes. She says she had three times an attraction to men, with whom she had a kind of virtual relationship. In October 2004, she wrote: “I have problems in my marriage because I have a husband who is very old-fashioned in his way of being in the family: the father is the chief, he gives an order, it is executed without seeing to question or understand, period! In his relationship with me, he plays his role of head of the family, of husband who must bring back “his crust.” but is neither tender, nor cuddly, nor attentive. “October 23:” I am badly, I am in need of everything: tenderness, love, mutual friends, sex. of all!! He was away for five days (...) Tonight he comes home late, and I will have only one desire again and again: to cry!!!!!!! help !!!!!!!!”
Agnès dreams of a big discussion, of putting “things back on the flat,” but fears being unable to clearly express her frustrations and dissatisfaction, because she has convinced herself that she is “soft in the brain.” Or rather: Xavier convinced her of it. His self-esteem and sense of superiority prevent him from hearing his wife’s calls for help. So, he undermines it, crushes it. “What is very annoying with you is that you have to repeat everything regularly, you forget everything, and you have to start the same explanations all over again,” he wrote to her by e-mail. Is she complex about her weight? He accuses her of imposing her states of mind on the family. She asks him about the cash flow. He reproaches her for not supporting him, while he kills himself to the task to provide for the needs of the family. This is the argument he has been repeating since their marriage, since he adopted Arthur and “saved” Agnès from abandoning the initial debt, for which he keeps making her pay the price. “I noticed that your mood (more or less happy, more or less in love, more or less critical, etc.) is always linked to our financial situation !!!, he wrote to her in one of his long letters. I find that annoying, in principle! In fact, for 4 years, it is: business is going, the money is coming in: I am happy, you are wonderful and I love you ‘; “Finances are less well: I’m depressed and I find you full of faults, especially professional ones.”
One day, in the summer of 2005, Agnès tries to escape this life. Xavier has just asked her for a last extension. She has 46,000 euros left of the 350,000 of her inheritance and this is precisely what he needs to launch the new phase of his business, the “Crystal project.” She never imagined refusing him that money a few years ago, but this time she said no. These crumbs of inheritance are, for her, her only chance of ever being able to live alone. It is also all she has left of her two deceased parents. The refusal provokes Xavier’s fury, who leaves the house. Agnès definitely does not understand anything, he argues: these 46,000 euros are necessary in order not to contract new debts and will precisely start new income. He instructs his friends Emmanuel Teneur and Michel Rétif to bring Agnès “to reason.” At the same time, he buries her with emails, which all say the same thing: it was her choices that forced him to slam the door. It begins with “My poor darling,” he writes “there you really have to understand because otherwise we are going to total disaster. I am serious and I ask you to be too.” Later, he affirms “I do not want to make you feel guilty, but it is not me who ‘brought us there’ as you say, but you by refusing since March to sell 2000 euros of shares, as a misplaced precaution!” All he really wants is that, that she feels guilty.
Agnès loses almost 20 kilos. One day, at the supermarket, she runs into a friend, Florence, and collapses in her arms, crying. She reconnects with another friend, Sophie. Agnès confides. She tells her about her financial difficulties, that she no longer trusts Xavier, that he is never there and that she has the impression that he does not love her anymore. Sophie does not dare tell her that she has always found Xavier strange and that she would be right to part with him. With her husband, they will be part, in July 2005, of the recipients of a strange “open letter to the families and friends of Agnès and Xavier,” in which XDDL explains the details of the separation. The six-page letter then seems to Sophie “completely crazy and even pathological.” It contains all the financial details of the household budget and asks a question (repeatedly): “How did we get here?” The answer comes in two parts: 1) financial aspect, 2) psychological aspect. It includes a table presenting three solutions and, for each, an evaluation. Xavier’s is number l: “Normal use ‘a security pocket ‘that we haven’t touched for 2 years. There would remain 31,000 euros and the possibility of reconstituting little by little over the next few years that of Agnès number 3: “Extreme solution, stupid and ridiculous, due to an incomprehensible psychological blockage A sentence:” I did not marry Agnès , by adopting Arthur, to divorce after having had three other children. “Another:” To end this beautiful story, know that my first project, La route des commercials, allowed 1042 establishments to join and generated net revenues of 300,000 euros which supported several people. My new concepts, more concrete because they are based on customer loyalty, are being developed in an exclusive partnership with La Française des jeux. “
The separation lasts three months. Then, as if nothing had happened, Xavier comes home. His grip was starting to wane, the breakup allowed him to keep the pressure on Agnès. As usual, he made her feel indebted to him, who finally agreed to come back. Elsewhere what they write in a new letter sent to their friends and family in November 2005. This one consists of a kind of preamble from Xavier saying that the purpose of the mail is “to try to erase the negative image that she (Agnès) was able to give [them] of [him] and in which [they] readily believed “and of a text by Agnès full of sentences suggesting that she did not have it writes or was forced to do so: “Influenced by bad friends who took me down unhealthy slopes and made me do reprehensible things ,”” Xavier has never lived on my hooks as a legacy crusher ,”” I have faith in his projects which are now well advanced and promising and I regret having put Sticks in the wheels.”
Shortly afterwards, Sophie and her husband were invited to 55 boulevard Robert-Schuman, in Nantes, for a dinner which turned out to be “appalling.” “The atmosphere was heavy and murky, she recounts. Xavier had said nothing of the evening. “She comes out with the unpleasant feeling of having participated in a production orchestrated by Agnès on Xavier’s orders. intended to show that all is well with the Ligonnès, that they can forget the letter received during the summer. Sophie saw her girlfriend later. That day, she found that it was “not her anymore” and she remembers thinking that Agnès in turn built a facade.
Next Section-1C
submitted by Eki75 to DupontDeLigonnes [link] [comments]


2020.07.24 03:07 williamk9949 [Online][5e][PST] Looking for two players to brave the dangers of the Dungeon of the Mad Mage

Edit: Applications are now closed and the final pool of applicants has been selected. Thank you to all that applied.

The Dungeon of the Mad Mage Beckons…

Over one thousand years ago, a wizard by the name of Halaster Blackcloak arrived at the base of Mount Waterdeep with an entourage of seven apprentices. No one knew of his true origins, but none could doubt the magical power he commanded as he constructed a mighty wizard’s tower that dwarfed all others that came before it. But this marvelous construct was merely a front for Halaster’s true intentions, a diversion for his manic endeavors in excavating deeper and deeper into the depths of Mount Waterdeep itself. His once-proud tower and its battlements gradually fell into ruins, its owner and his apprentices never to be seen again.
With the passage of time, the city now known as Waterdeep slowly came to be, developing under the shadow of Mount Waterdeep and enveloping the ruins of Halaster’s tower. None dared to venture into the mountain, save for criminals condemned to such a fate for their heinous transgressions. That is, until a lone adventurer by the name of Durnan dared to enter its accursed depths and returned laden with a wealth of riches and harrowing tales. His newfound prosperity would eventually allow him to construct the Yawning Portal, a now-famous inn and tavern built around the very ruins of Halaster’s tower. The centerpiece of this establishment is undoubtedly the well Durnan himself used to enter Mount Waterdeep’s depths, and intrepid adventurers from far and wide travel here for a chance to make their own fortunes.
A single gold piece is all that is required to descend into the darkness below. One gold coin to risk life and sanity as you plunge into the unknown. Will you emerge triumphant as the proprietor of the Yawning Portal once did? Will you perish alongside the legions of foolhardy adventurers that came before you? Or will you unearth something that should have remained undisturbed in those accursed depths? Whatever the outcome, the Dungeon of the Mad Mage beckons for its next victim.
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Hey folks, I’m William (22M) and I’m currently seeking out two more players to run through Dungeon of the Mad Mage. This is a lengthy campaign that runs from levels 5-20 and will require more than a year to complete, so I’m looking for people that can offer a longer-term commitment.
My DMing Calculus
House Rules
Game Details
Character Creation
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If you’re still interested after reading all that, please fill out the following form so that I can better gauge whether you’ll be a good fit for the party. Best of luck to all prospective applicants: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfVbInAcB4f6buJnMOlA2uxIfT-H33xAKPwVzUCfwwKSnxxUQ/viewform?usp=sf_link.
submitted by williamk9949 to lfg [link] [comments]


2020.07.22 19:19 digital4kcollector (Offer) list (request) lists

Hey new username, formerly littlejohn04
**4K Disney/Marvel*\*
**HD Disney/Marvel/Star Wars*\*
**HD unless noted as 4k*\* ​

**Standard Definition Movies*\*
**XML CODES*\*
Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter / avengers / Broken City / Captain America First Avenger / Chronicle / Despicable Me / diary of a wimpy kid 3 dog days / die hard 5 / Family guy it's a trap / Fast And Furious / Fast And Furious Tokyo Drift / Green zone / Hitchcock / ice age / Inglorious Basterds / iron man 2 / jumper / kung fu panda 2 / life of pi / Lincoln / Mamma Mia! / Monsters Inc / parental guidance / Rio / percy Jackson sea of monsters / percy jackson the lightning thief / Prometheus / the proposal / Puss in Boots / rio / Skyfall / The Fast And The Furious / The Hangover / the heat / the town / Trainspotting / the town / walking with dinosaurs / Xmen / Xmen First Class / Xmen the wolverine
TV shows*
Screen passes list
https://www.reddit.com/usedigital4kcollectocomments/hiq066/screen_passes/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
**REQUESTING*\*
New releases 4k preferred Itunes preferred if not MA
submitted by digital4kcollector to uvtrade [link] [comments]


2020.07.20 21:43 GemSupker What is Just Platonic or Was I in Love Romantically with My Best Friend?

TL;DR: I felt a lot of things about my best friend before we sort of "broke up," things that might be viewed as romantic attraction like hugs, clinginess, wanting to hold them close, etc. Now, I still stress about her and our past relationship even though it's been a year since we've spoken. Was I in love with my best friend and is that part of why she left?
I'll try to keep this brief, but there's a lot to unpack here.
As a kid, I was a lone-wolf type. I had one, maybe two friends at a time, but those friendships never lasted long and the ones that lasted longer were, frankly, abusive.
It wasn't until high school that I finally made a friend who truly deserved the title. (For the purposes, let's call her Samantha.) Samantha was a loner (like me), fun, interesting, intelligent, quirky, supportive; really a perfect friend. I adored her. It was actually Samantha who originally pointed out to me that I was asexual, and she was super understanding and supportive of that. We went to Comic-Con together, played video games, bought used books, took the same classes... we were practically inseparable. I felt like she was the only person who truly understood me.
After we graduated high school, we ended up going to separate universities. She stayed in-state, I went to a school the next state over, so we were about 4 - 5 hours away from each other. But that didn't matter, we visited each other as often as we could and spent as much time together during breaks as we could. But thinking back on it, it was usually me who made plans for visits and spending time together. This is probably when I started to get a bit too clingy.
Samantha and I were both introverts. We didn't go to parties or really make many other friends besides the two of us, even in college. Neither of us went on dates (which wasn't a loss for me), but Samantha was still heterosexual/heteroromantic, so she did feel a little lonely at times. But she had me, so we came up with this plan that after we graduated college, we'd move into an apartment together and be roommates. I was super excited by this idea. (I didn't know at the time that our sneaky little plan had a name - queerplatonic relationship - but that's beside the point.)
Even so, Samantha still tried to go on dates, preferring to use dating apps like Tinder, or she would sometimes date coworkers of hers. I never liked any of the people she dated. They were always far below what she deserved and always ended up hurting her emotionally in some way. I kind of hated these people. It took quite a bit of self-reflection, but one day I figured out that the emotion I was feeling was a very intense form of jealousy, which came as a surprise to me. I couldn't understand why. I later confessed my feelings of jealousy to Samantha, and again, she was very kind about it. She told me it was kind of cute, she was flattered by it, and that I didn't need to worry about it because I would always be her best friend. I felt a little better, but it was only temporary.
Things started to go downhill about 2 years ago when she downloaded this app, (wait for it) TikTok. Samantha was really into cosplay, particularly special effects makeup art. So, she began posting videos on TikTok of these original character creations she made and she started to get a lot of attention. This is when she started talking with a bunch of other TikTok cosplayers and joined their roleplaying servers. I never really understood what that was, but I guess it was like D&D or something but no rules, just writing responses.
None of this is my cup of tea, per se, but I was determined to be a supportive friend, and if this made Samantha happy, well then I was going to do everything I could to show her I loved her work. I downloaded the damn app, liked every video, talked with her about it constantly, and even made an appearance in a few videos. (Which I hated, but I kept this to myself.) Again, I'm not into makeup or cosplay and all that, but Samantha loved it and I'm into making comics and graphic novels, so who am I to judge?
The cosplay was never the problem. It was these roleplaying servers. She got attached to some guy on these things and they talked and texted all. the. time. This guy's stuff was so... out there. I would not be surprised if his videos were floating around somewhere on TikTokCringe. They did themed cosplays together, had their original characters in relationships together, they even made these things called "vent videos" I think? Basically, you lip-sync to some angsty song and cry into the camera?
...Yeah, I hated those. BUT! I was going to be the world's most supportive friend! So, I said nothing.
But this guy! He makes my skin crawl still! He was obsessed with Samantha. He made my clinginess look amateurish, to say the least. It wasn't long until Samantha was head-over-heels for this loser. Any time Samantha and I would hang out, she would spend the whole time messaging him. I started to feel pretty... worthless. Last summer, I took her on a trip because she had never stayed in a hotel before (it was just a Days Inn, but still) and I was all excited for it because it was just going to be me and her taking the trip we had been planning since senior year.
She spent practically the whole time talking to this guy and making more TikTok videos. I was insanely jealous and hurt, but I still didn't want to say anything, so I kept quiet. The only time I really got her to talk to me was when we would get dinner or lunch, or if I asked her about this guy. It was miserable. Several weeks after we got back from our trip and this whole pattern was still going, I finally caved and talked to her about it. I told her how ignored and worthless I felt and how I didn't like how this guy was treating her and I wanted to know if I was doing something wrong, etc.
She broke down when I told her. (Please don't read this next bit if mental health topics are at all a trigger.) For the first time, she tells me the reason she's been keeping her distance. She's got depression and anxiety, bad. She's got a terrible eating disorder that sounds a lot like binge and purge. She's tried to take her own life twice, once in junior high, and another time in college. She tells me she's been talking to this guy because she feels that he gets it. She tells me she'll sometimes fall asleep talking with him on the phone just to keep the panic attacks and the depressive bouts away.
I was devastated. I wish I could say it was only for selfless reasons, but it wasn't. Obviously, I was grief-stricken that she had been dealing with this for so long without much of any support. I had known since high school that she had anxiety and depression, but I had no clue how bad it was. But I was also kind of offended and hurt myself (which I know I had no right to be, but I was). It bothered me that she had felt more comfortable telling this to a string of dates and internet strangers before she dared talk to me, the person who had been fiercely loyal for years. And it particularly hurt to learn her second suicide attempt was in college. She never reached out. I would have moved heaven and earth for her, but she was just going to leave me without a word. More things that I never told her, the last thing she needed was any guilt on my behalf.
This is where I started making some big mistakes. I've never had depression or anxiety;, mental health-wise, I'm pretty much fit as a fiddle as far as I know. So, I knew that I couldn't understand what she was going through, but I began researching like I was going to write a doctoral dissertation on the subject. I tried to learn what would be helpful, what would be harmful, and what I should do in the worst-case scenario. We had a lot of honest talks about what she was going through at this time. I'm sure it was hard for both of us.
It got particularly bad for her when she learned this guy she had been talking to on TikTok and discord was not who she thought he was. I only later learned that for many months this guy had been flirting with her pretty hard, and she had been seriously thinking about getting into a romantic relationship with him, despite him living several states away... and being a total loser. But Samantha didn't see this until she was messaged privately by another girl on Tiktok. This girl told Samantha that she had been having a serious sexual relationship with this guy for a while, but had just looked at his phone when he was in the bathroom and found all his messages to Samantha. Samatha was heartbroken about this, and I tried to be kind about it. (Unfortunately, in my head I'm thinking, "Wow! He's a manipulative asshole?! Who saw that coming???") Didn't say it... But I thought it.
In any case, I started checking up on her every morning and night, asking her how she was feeling and how the day was going. She was pretty responsive at first, but over the course of a few weeks, she took longer and longer to reply, which made me extremely nervous. I probably shouldn't have, but I eventually chewed her out a little about it. She then told me she couldn't keep it up, so we dropped it, but I told her the second she wasn't feeling too good, she could call me, day or night, no matter where I was. I was serious, it didn't matter if I failed a test or lost my job, if she needed me, I was ready to drop and run.
She never called. I only ever learned when she was having any troubles with it several days or weeks after the fact. But, she reassured me every time that if she needed me, she'd let me know, so I tried not to get nervous when I didn't hear from her for longer stretches. She still spent a lot of time with other people on TikTok, and I was still feeling pretty ignored, but I was more focused on making sure she was in a good headspace whenever I was with her. She said she wanted things to go back to normal, to be like it was when we were in high school. So, I tried to do that.
At this point, I remember when I would feel nervous or worried about her, I would think about how things would be better when we got our apartment together. There, I could take care of her and make sure she was safe and happy. I wouldn't be several hours away, I wouldn't even be several minutes away, I would always be right there. But even this hope began to fade as she would speak to me less and less and the stretches of time got longer and longer and longer.
The last time we saw each other in person was on her 21st birthday. She spent most of the time texting other people as usual. I was kind of used to it by then. The following weeks she didn't message me at all. I sent one text to her out of the blue before she started fall semester. I told her I wished her luck with school and that I hoped she was happy. This is what I got back a day later: "Thank you for your concern. I'm fine."
She had never spoken to me like that before.
I was in the car with my mom when I got that text. I remember turning to my mom as she was driving and saying, "Mom, I think Samantha has decided that she doesn't want to be friends anymore." At that point, I don't think either of us were all that surprised. Samantha and I haven't spoken since. Last I heard, she's graduated from college. That's all I know.
Samantha was the only person I had ever felt comfortable hugging outside family members. I loved her scent, her laugh, the freckles on her face. When she was sad, I remember feeling such a strong urge to cuddle her, hold her close. And I would have if I thought she would have been comfortable with it. I had a pet nickname for her and I loved it when she would call me by my nickname. We had a silly way of talking to each other when we were in a good mood and silly nonsense phrases that only the two of us understood the meaning of.
The first nightmare I had with Samantha in it was in high school; I dreamed she came out to me as lesbian and that she had a crush on me. In the dream, I tearfully told her that I was so sorry, that as an asexual I didn't feel the same, but that if she wanted to stay with me, I would never abandon her. The second nightmare was in college; I dreamed she told me that she hated me and was running off with the TikTok guy.
Now, every few months I'll have a random dream that we somehow meet again and we're both apologizing and we get to be friends again. Then, I wake up, and I remember I'm never going to get my friend back. I think, for the most part, I've come to terms with this; after all, it's been almost a year. But these dreams or random bits of sadness will just hit me sometimes out of nowhere.
I don't feel lonely. I've got friends up at college and I have a great relationship with my family, but for some reason, I'm still working on getting closure with this. I've had a long time to think about this, particularly what I did wrong, but there's this last thing that I just don't know. So, here's my question:
Based on the information provided, was I just platonically attached to my best friend, or was I actually in love with her romantically? I've never felt like this about someone before or after, and I don't know what romantic attraction feels like. I also want to know if my attachment to her, regardless of whether it was platonic or romantic, was part of the reason our relationship fell apart. I know I did a lot wrong, but was this a part of why as well?
Sorry my sob-story is so long. Any insight is appreciated. I just want to put this to bed finally.
submitted by GemSupker to asexuality [link] [comments]


2020.07.12 16:35 RandomError19 List of That Guy Player Archetypes

I am back again! This time I have a list of That Guy Player archetype. You can see my other post for the DM list.
If you encounter a That Guy, it is recommended to talk to them first about their behavior. It might be possible to fix the situation by talking about the problems. However, if nothing improves or they begin to insult you, gaslight you, and/or target you, I recommend that you stop playing games with them. As it is often said on this subreddit, "No D&D is better than bad D&D."

Anti-Party Player

Anti-Party Players intentionally make characters that don't mesh with the party. Maybe the character is a different alignment (evil vs good), a loner, or doesn't trust the party. They will not cooperate with the party and may disrupt activities they disagree with. The worst ones will betray the party by attacking them or either selling them out.
If an Anti-Party Player tells you "Its what my character would do" as an excuse for their actions, tell them to reroll a character that actually wants to work with the party.
 

Character Switcher

This player has a constant need to switch characters during the game. Most of the time, players only switch characters after their current character dies or if the character isn't working or compatible with the game. However, the Character Switcher will want to play something new frequently. Sometimes changing characters as often as every game session. The reasons for this could range from boredom to feeling like they are being overshadowed. Regardless, the reason the Character Switcher is a "That Guy" archetype is that they don't care how their constant changing affects the game world or party structure.
Each time they change characters, the DM needs to find a way to incorporate the new character into the party and their backstory into the world. This will quickly become a headache for the DM due to the sheer amount of new characters popping up in a short time. Not mention, the effect if will have on the game's plot. Hopefully, the Character Switcher isn't playing character that was vital to the plot! As for the party, Character Switchers rarely care about the party composition and will just play whatever character they want. They will switch from Barbarian to Wizard even if already is a Wizard and the party no longer has any melee characters or change from Cleric to Rogue and deprive the team of a healer.
Another possible problem is the way the Character Switcher gets rid of their old characters. Unless the DM lets them change with no explanation, the player will usually have to find a way to kill off their character before they can start a new one. If the party is unlucky, the player may choose to do this by starting a fight they know will get them killed. This can easily result in a TPK or ruining the campaign.
 

The Cheater

The Cheater uses a variety of underhanded tricks to "win" at TTRPG games. Despite the fact that TTRPGs are games that are meant to be played together for fun, the Cheater can only have fun when they are the best at the game, even if that ruins the everyone else's fun. Cheaters hate it when something doesn't go their way (failing a saving throw) and may become extremely upset or rage when it happens if they cannot cheat their way out of the problem.
Common TTRPG cheating methods are:
If caught, Cheaters usually blame everyone else instead of apologizing. When someone is caught cheating, it is best to kick them from the game. Even if the Cheater promises to never to cheat again, most people will still be suspicious and it will reduce the overall enjoyment of the game from that point forward.
 

The Critic

Most players are willing to take advice from others and DMs often look for feedback after a game session ends. But for the Critic, there is always something wrong and they will let you know right away. There is no limit to what a Critic will criticize, nitpick, or complain about. Character backstories, races, spell choices, encounter sizes, plot points, how to play a character, names. The list just goes on and on. They will always complain in front of as many people as possible to put the other person on the spot and make themselves look like they are really smart. Their complaints can interrupt game flow and ruin immersion. They might insist on players playing characters with optimal builds and for the DM to run the game a specific way. They will cite themselves experts or compare the DM's "unfavorable" playstyle to the ways other people run games such as Matt Mercer from Critical Role.
However, the worst Critics will point out things they don't like and "demand" that they be changed or done a certain way. They do not take "no" for an answer and can become irate when they do not get their way. This can descend into arguments lasts hours over the most petty things. Sometimes, the DM will spend more time dealing with the Critic than actually running the game.
 

Drama Queen (Attention Whore)

A Drama Queen causes interpersonal problems in the group and allows out of game problems to affect the way they play the game and vis versa. Drama Queens cannot keep personal problems and game roleplaying separate. If the Drama Queen has a problem with another player, any character made by the Drama Queen will also hate that player's characters. Likewise, if something happens to their character, they will hate the DM or player that caused the "perceived" sleight against them and will take it out on them in real life. If the Drama Queen is jealous of another player's character, they will complain to the DM to nerf that character so their character can be the best.
Some Drama Queens have a constant need to be the center of attention and will complain if they are not involved in every aspect of the game, even if if has nothing to do with them. If the plot or roleplaying is happening somewhere they are not, they will suddenly teleport to that location without explanation to be a part of it. They will also butt in (and ruin) roleplaying moments between other players and the DMs.
 

"Dice Make You Do It" Player

This player will use magic and skill checks on fellow party members to make them do what they want. The worst version of this are Bards with high social skills that can beat the opposed skill rolls of their teammates. This effectively allows the player to convince the party to do anything they want and can railroad the story in anyway they choose while completely removing player agency from the rest of the party.
Requires a Doormat DM to work because most competent DMs will put a stop to this behavior immediately.
 

The Edgelord

In the context of TTRPGs, an Edgelord is a character that tries very hard to act badass and cool and has such a large amount dark, angsty, or evil themes that it boards on parody. The Edgelord character is a very common cliche and it gives the player an excuse to be an asshole and be hostile to the party.
An Edgelord has most, if not all, of the following traits:
Tragic Backstory: The backstory of an Edgelord varies but is always tragic in some way. It might involve the death of everyone the character ever loved or the complete destruction of their home. They could be a former slave/prostitute/gladiatoservant that managed to escape that life (probably by killing someone). They could have been cursed by some otherworldly horror and are plagued by haunted dreams that compel them to do horrible things. They may be on a quest for vengeance against the one responsible. No matter the story, it is unlikely that there was anything "good" that ever happen in their life that wasn't taken away.
"Edgy" Class: Althought an Edglord can be any class, it is common for an Edgelord to be an evil or dark class such as Rogue, Warlock, Oathbreaker Paladin, Necormancer, or Blood Hunter.
Negative Personality: Edgelord characters are selfish and have a very high opinion of themselves and low opinion of everyone else. Similar to a Murder Hobo, they are looking for any reason to fight to show off. Any sort of "disrespect" towards them is enough of a reason to threaten or attack someone. Usually the character will be Neutral, Chaotic, or Evil aligned to "justify" any sort actions the Edgelord takes.
Bad Party Interact: Interacting with an Edgelord character is difficult. They may distrust the party to the point of being flat out hostile to party for no good reason. It isn't uncommon for an Edgelord to attack party members because "That is what my character would do." On better terms with the party, the Edgelord will be antisocial and bush off any attempts to get to know them while spend most of their roleplaying time brooding and trying to be mysterious. Alternatively, they may just reveal their entire backstory at once, usually expecting other to be impressed or be amazed at how cool they are.
Lack of Character Growth: Edgelords are a one note characters. They are completely defined by their negativity with their only real goal to become stronger, cooler, and more badass. Even if they succeed on their quest for vengeance (if any) they will never do anything more than try to get stronger. Trying to pick up their life or develop new connections with others is unlikely. In fact, some Edgelords HATE the idea of anything good happening to their character. While most character (and people IRL) would try to move on from bad experiences and learn to enjoy life, Edgelords wallow in their sadness and misery. After all, that's the most important part of their image.
Rule of Cool at Any Cost: Above all, the Edgelords want to be a cool, awesome, respected and feared badass. To be cool, they dress in all black or other dark colors with a hood and cloak to conceal their mysterious identity. To be badass, they may take actions that are against their alignment, detrimental to the party or plot, or go completely against common sense. They expect to be respected or feared even if they have done nothing to earn that response. Some will go around making threats, not realizing that making unnecessary enemies is very bad idea.
Massive Backlash: Not everyone will back down from threats of violence, put up with disruptive "trying to be cool" activities, or backs down from a fight. Despite their high opinions of themselves, an Edgelord is the same as any other player character and they can fail just like everyone. The failure event could be anything from a barbed quip from a party member making them look bad to rolling a nat 1 on an attack roll. Edgelords react very bad to any situation the makes the look stupid, weak, or uncool. They will usually complain and argue with the DM about anything that hurts their image or makes them weaker. Most Edgelords will not compromise and will blame others for their failures. They also hold grudges against party members that make them look bad and will try to sabotage or kill them at a later point. Edgelord players reach very badly if their character dies. Rage quitting is common and some will even break down and cry if their character was a Self-Insert. Others will make a new character and target the party member that killed their old character with no in-game explanation or they might attempt to derail the campaign to spite the DM.
Countless games and campaigns have been ruined by Edgelords and no game is safe from them. It doesn't matter if what kind of game you run, players will always find ways to try to create an Edgelord.
How to not be an Edgelord: For the sake of the people reading this that are thinking Oh no, my character is an Edgelord! HELP!!! Here are some tips to help understand how it happened and how to improve your character.
Edgelords are an Accident: Most of the time, people create Edgelords by accident. What they are trying to make is an Antihero but they go overboard on the dark themes and misunderstand how to play an Antihero. I recommend researching Antihero characters work in fiction for inspiration on how to build and develop your character.
More than Dark Themes: It's ok to have dark themes like a tragic backstory but dark themes can't be the ONLY thing that makes up your character. Give them hobbies, have a job they enjoy, let them be happy, let good things happen to them, give them SOMETHING that isn't dark/evil/edgy. Likewise, try to make the dark elements less horrible and more believable. If your character is a sole survivor from a dragon attack, don't make their goal "kill all dragons". Instead have them be searching for "the blue dragon with misshaped horns that destroyed my village."
Be a Team Player: Your character needs to be able to work with the party. They don't need to be your best friends. You can agrue over some stuff but you can't immediately go to threats and violence if you don't get your way. If your character doesn't trust the party, why are you even with them at all? If you can't think of a good reason, you should retire your character and make a new different one.
Grow Out of Being an Edgelord: One of the biggest mistakes with Edgelords is to never let them grow as characters. "Time heals all wounds" may not be 100% accurate but it is true enough to make an Edgelord mellow a bit and become a stronger person. They CAN overcome their past. They CAN find something worth living for. If your dark themed character is the exact same at the end of the campaign as they were at the start, then they truely deserve their Edgelord title.
 

The Favorite

The Favorite gets special treatment from the DM in the form of extra experience, items, buffs, broken homebrew content, or being the "main character" of the game. They are the player counterpart to the "That Guy" DM archetype Player Bias DM. The Favorite are usually a friend or significant other of the DM or possibly someone the DM is trying to date/sleep with. The Favorite can do no wrong and the DM will always side with them and enable their bad behavior. They are never at risk of dying and every NPC will love them. You can expect the favorite to display other "That Guy" archetypes found in this list.
 

Fake Plot Armor Player

Some players are under the incorrect assumption that they have plot armor. These players think that nothing they do will have any consequences and everything will work out in their favor. For example, they might start a fight with an ancient dragon at level 2, believing that even if they can't win, something will happen that will keep them from dying. Of course, they are surprised and angry when they die almost immediately. For some people, this is a wake up call but for others they will never learn. These are Fake Plot Armor Players and it never occurs to them to not take risky actions, do dumb things, or start fights with dragons at level 2.
Fake Plot Armor Players can wreck havoc in a game with high stakes. Doing something stupid like killing the only NPC with the knowledge to defeat the BBEG effectly ends the campaign. Some DMs might try and salvage their campaign but it is only a matter of time before something else happens to ruin it again. Most of the time, Fake Plot Armor Players will simply blame the DM for "not being prepared" for every possible outcome.
 

Loot Hobo

The Loot Hobo is a player that wants money and items above all else. What separates the Loot Hobo from the normal adventurer is their sheer amount greed and lack of self control. If a Loot Hobo see an item they want, they will do everything in their power to get it. Stealing, killing, and begging the DM are possible ways this player might try to get what they want. This player doesn't care if they act out of character to get it either. Most Loot Hobos play a class like Rogue so they can pickpocket but any class could be a Loot Hobo. The party is not immune to this either and it is very likely that the Loot Hobo will steal an item they want from the another player. There is never enough money or items for them. Even if they were the ruler of a city, they would still go around robbing people and stealing from stores. They want the loot, ALL of the loot.
Another type of Loot Hobo is the kleptomaniac. They will steal EVERYTHING not nailed down even if it makes no sense. For example, this type of Loot Hobo will steal silverware and mugs from a tavern, the sheets and pillow from their inn room, and knockout and strip the clothing off of merchant just because they can.
 

The "Main Character"

This player has "Main Character Syndrome" and believes they are main character of the campaign and everyone else are their sidekicks. They are the "chosen one", the party leader, and will try to make all the decision for the party. Doesn't matter if you have a Bard in the party, their fighter with the personality of a block of wood will be talking to the king. They do not like the spotlight being off them and will try to prevent other party members from shining and will hijack plot points that doesn't involve them. Lastly, these sorts of players can be really condescending and rude to their party members because in their eyes, they don't matter and exist only to make them look better.
 

Murder Hobo

The Muder Hobo is a player that tries to use violence as the answer to every problem. Murder Hobos love combat. Combat is the only thing in the game that interests them. They don't want to form bonds or roleplay or negotiate with NPCs. They want to fight and they will roam around the world trying to kill whatever crosses their path. To them, there is never enough combat. Which becomes a problem in roleplay or story heavy sections of the game. Much like an angry animal, it takes very little to provoke a Murder Hobo into do what they do best. They will look for any reason to attack someone. An uncooperative bartender that will not give you information, an insult from the town drunk, or being talked down to by a noble. All of these are perfect reasons in the mind of Murder Hobo to kill them. In fact, "boredom" is the number one reason why a Murder Hobo kills NPCs. They are bored waiting for the next combat encounter so they will start one right now! And it doesn't matter if the person is a quest giver, a plot NPC, or some random guy walking down the street. They don't care about consequences or the plot, they just want to fight and kill stuff.
And those are the more reasonable ones. In fact, the worst Murder Hobos are played as psychopaths or rabid animals that will maim and murder any and everything in sight without any reason.
Murder Hobos work in games that are super combat heavy with very little else. Otherwise, they need to be muzzled to prevent them from ruining the game with senseless killing.
 

Non-Player

(taken from this video from Terrible Writing Advice)
A Non-Player is a person whom doesn't engage in the game and just takes up space. If asked, they will do things such as making an attack roll or a skill check, but they almost never do anything of their own volition. They do not ask questions, roleplay, or talk with the party or DM. A Non-Player isn't someone that is just quiet or shy. These sort of people just need extra help getting them to come out of their shell so they can interact more in the game. Instead, an actual Non-Player is not invested in the game at all and will do other activities during the game session such as playing video games or messing with their cell phone. It is mystery why this person is even playing at all. In these cases, you could replace the player with a NPC and their would be little difference besides the NPC interacting with the party more.
 

Overpowered Fanboy

(adapted from the "Snowflake" from this video from Terrible Writing Advice)
This player is a massive fan of some fictional work and wants to create an overpowered, super stylized character based off of that work. While the Fanboy (or Fangirl) can come from any sort of fandom, I will use the weeaboo (anime fandom) and the furry (furry fandom) as examples as they are the most common fandoms (at least according to this subreddit) that have Overpower Fanboys.
Fanboys are very demanding when it comes to making their characters and will request all kinds of changes to make their character closer to their vision. For example, a weeaboo that is a fan of shonen anime (Dragonball Z, My Hero Academia, etc) might want a character based off their favorite protagonist. Said character has no direct translation in most game systems but the closest might be a Monk/FighteSorcereWarlock. A furry might want to make a character with a Fox/Dragon/BeaUnicorn with angel wings hybrid race. Some Fanboys will go even further by requesting special items, abilities, spells, or various overpowered homebrew conent from the DM. All at level 1.
Obviously, such a character is way too powerful and almost impossible to balance and any sane DM will tell the player to make something. However, Fanboys really don't like being told "no" or to "tone down" their character and will complain a lot about it. Even if the DM does give in and gives the player what they want, it isn't over. A weeaboo will play their character as if they were in a shonen anime and a furry will demand special content for them, regardless of the campaign's setting or tone.
In addition, the Fanboy probably has the following "That Guy" archetypes: Main Character, Edgelord, Power Gamer, Self-Insert and Murder Hobo. Thus, playing with the Fanboy will be difficult to say the least.
NOTE: Most people of the anime and furry fandoms will be quick to say "Not all weeaboo/furries are like this!" And they are correct. Let me explain the two things most fans have that the Fanboys lack: Compromise and Restraint.
 

The Pervert

This player has some sort of sexual fetish or obsession and will constantly subject everyone to whatever it is. This is the player equivalent to a Fetishist DM. The Pervert will never "fade to black" when dealing with sexual content and will go into an extensive amount of detail describing anything related to their fetish. Not only will they not "take a hint" that they are making people uncomfortable, they will actively argue with the DM and party to get their way.
If you are "lucky" the Pervert is a sex manic Bard that sleeps with everyone or steals underwear and nothing more. Sadly, most of the time they much, MUCH worse. They might play an underage character that tries to sleep with people or someone that tries to force themselves on a party member. Nothing ruins a game faster than a Pervert player "roleplaying" there kink.
NOTE: If you are dealing with a The Pervert and they start making you or anyone else uncomfortable with their actions, IMMEDIATELY tell them to stop. If they refuse, insult you, or try to give some excuse like "realism", you should quit the game as soon as possible and never play with them again. Remember you are playing the game to have fun. Having to listen to the Pervert describe horrible sexual acts isn't fun for anyone but them.
 

The Power Gamer (Min-Maxer)

A Power Gamer aims to create the strongest, most effective build of any character they play. Power Gamers do this by minimizing the weaknesses and maximum (min-max) the strengths of their build. Power Gamers look through books, rules, and forums in search of the best feats, stat placement, items, and so on, to build their character. For example, a Fighter can be built to be a melee powerhouse that can kill anything in a few hits and shrug off any attack or a Bard with social skills so high that they can convince anyone of anything.
Power Gamers is problematic for the following reasons:
The biggest thing to watch out for is if exploits, loopholes, or broken homebrew content are used to build their character. Letting this happen effectively breaks the game. Games where no one has fun except the Power Gamer are not enjoyable.
 

Rules Lawyer

A Rules Lawyer will argue endlessly on the meaning, interpretation, or logistics of the rules for whatever game they are playing. Rule Lawyers love to correct people on the rules of the game. They also love to find loopholes and exploits that will allow them to do crazy things. Rule Lawyers usually argue with Rules As Written vs Rules As Intended (RAW vs RAI), but some go so far as to use real life physics and science to try to justify what they are doing is possible and should be allowed. Some take the opposite approach, using the absence of a rule to get what they want with phrases like "There is no rule that states...".
Rule Lawyers argue A LOT. More than any other kind of player. And these arguments can last for hours. Nothing will stop a Rules Lawyer from arguing their point. It doesn't matter if they are proven wrong and not even the DM pulling Rule 0 (DM has the final say) will get them to shut up. Once a they get going, you might just have to call the session because nothing else will get done that day.
The most common type of Rules Lawyer will argue the rules in a way that benefits them but will be completely fine with rules not being followed correctly if that also benefits them. This kind of Rule Lawyer is a hypocrite.
A rarer type is a Rules Lawyer that will argue with any rule the don't think is correct even if it hurts them. Although they are more "neutral", they do not argue or complain any less than normal. They are also willing to completely screw other players over with their arguments. The most extreme version will override a DM trying to prevent TPK even if it would cause the campaign to end. Why? To these players, its not about having fun or winning, its about being right.
 

Secret Keeper

A player that keeps information from the party or the DM is a Secret Keeper. In some cases, it might make sense to not tell the party certain things (changling pretending to be another race) but the Secret Keeper will keep extremely important plot information to themselves for no good reason. In more extreme cases, they might not share anything about themselves to the party at all. This makes trusting and roleplaying with their character very difficult.
Secret Keepers might try to do things without the party's knowledge that ends up backfiring later on. For example, while the party is making a plan to solve a problem, the Secret Keeper makes different plan without the party knowing about it. When it comes time to put the party's plan into motion, the Secret Keeper might end ruining the plan with their own plan. If this happens, the Secret Keeper will blame the party for being stupid for not coming up with the same plan as them.
Sometimes, a Secret Keeper will refuse to show their backstory or character sheet with the DM. This is never ok. The DM needs this information to incorporate the player into the world and balance the game. Usually, the player is trying to cheat by hiding their sheet from the DM and will alter things such as they "backstory" to be extremely convenient when they get in trouble or they need something. Turns out the Secret Keeper was the long lost brother of the king this whole time!
In the worst cases, the Secret Keeper will betray the party out of nowhere and cause TPK followed by them revealing to the unknowing party (and DM) that they were a minion of the BBEG all along. SURPRISE!
 

Self-Insert Player

This player uses an idealized copy of themselves as a character when they play TTRPGs. People are free to play what they want in but people who fall into this "That Guy" archetype comes with a few other problems.
For one, their characters are almost always the same no matter what game or system they play in. If the Self-Insert sees themselves as a wizard, you can expect them to always be a wizard-like spellcaster. The party must be built around their character. Want to also play a wizard? I guess the party is going to have two wizards then! If they do change classes, you can expect them to play the same way no matter what. For example, if they normally play a sneaky, thieving Rogue you MIGHT be able to convince them to be a Gloom Stalker Ranger but they will still steal and not use any magic or class features that a Rogue wouldn't have had. Extreme versions of this might be a Barbarian player fighting in melee with their Wizard and refuses to cast spells.
Self-Insert players do not roleplay their character because THEY are their character. The character shares their own views, beliefs, and opinions. Trying to roleplay with the Self-Insert a lost cause. Talking to their character is the same as talking to the player out of the game. Also, any backstory and alignment they have are completely self-serving and will have no bearing on how they play unless they need it for the classic "Its what my character would do" excuse.
By far the worst problem with the Self-Insert Player is how they will take everything personally. Because they are playing themselves in-game, anything that happens to the "them" in the game is as if it happened in real life. Insult them in-game is the same as insulting them in real life. They have no filter between the game and themselves which can cause a lot of trouble. Killing their character will make them very, very angry. Some even go as far as to break down crying over the loss of their character. Others will take it in stride because their new character is going to be the exact same as the one that was just killed.
 

Stereotype Player

Plays the "stereotype" version of characters and alignments turned up to 11.
Some stereotype examples:
The Paladin will kill ANYTHING evil even if it doesn't make sense to do so. The Barbarian is AMAZINGLY stpuid. The Rogue is a kleptomaniac. Alignment will be used as an excuse to justify their behavior. Chaotic Neutral is especially bad and is treated as a free pass to do whatever the player wants. Get ready to hear the phrase "Its what my character would do" a lot.
Another version of this are players the believe that everyone is playing a stereotype. For example, if there is a Rogue in the party, they are automatically a thief. There is nothing you can do to convince the player otherwise. They will not trust the Rogue and will even go so far as to attack them to prevent them from stealing.
 

Toxic Player

Toxic Players are horrible people to play TTRPG with, let allow be around at all. It is easier just to list some of the bad behavior done by these players:
All of this is only the tip of the iceberg because there is no limit to the number of ways one person can be horrible to another person. Often times, it may not be obvious how bad the Toxic Player is until a few session into the game. The player might have some sort of trigger that sets them off and reveals how toxic they are.
In most cases this sort of player will fit into one or more other "That Guy" archetypes, compounding any problems they already have.
 

The Troll

A Troll (as in internet troll) is someone that actively tries to disrupt the game. There are numerous ways to do this but some of the most common are:
Some of the reasons someone might become a Troll:
Dealing with a Troll is time consuming and exhausting. Both the party and DM will spend most of their time babysitting the Troll to keep them from ruining the game. If you can't get a Troll to stop their antics, kick them from the game. Its either them or the game itself.
 

Video Game Logic Player

This sort of player has a hard time understanding how TTRPGs work because they come from a background of video game RPGs such as Skyrim, Fallout, Mass Effect, and Final Fantasy. These players are used to the games being designed a specific way and struggle to make the transition. For example, puzzles in video games are straight forward and these players may just give up on DM's puzzle if the solution isn't obvious.
Roleplaying is completely foreign to them too. It is extremely hard for this sort of player to "be in character". Likewise, interacting with NPCs is more about telling and not showing. For example, they will tell the DM that they asked the barkeeper for directions rather than try to roleplay the scene. If prompted to roleplay by the DM they might bomb it completely or just ask if they can make a skill check instead.
They will also talk out of character a lot and request things from a "game" perspective. They might want to hunt goblins not protect the town but to "grind for xp." Sometimes they will not understand that their actions have consequences. When faced with something that doesn't go their way, they may try to take back their action or ask the DM to "reload the scene" so they can do it again.
Not all players that fall into this archetype are bad people. Some just need time to how TTRPGs work. It is only when players refuse to learn how to play that they can become a problem.
   
I am sure there are more but I think this covers most of the "That Guys" you will find in this sub. Let me know if I missed anything. Thanks for reading!
submitted by RandomError19 to rpghorrorstories [link] [comments]


2020.07.07 18:59 Diego-C747 Relisha Rudd - A 8 Year Old Black Girl Is Barely Given A spot on the news.

tldr: Relisha Rudd, who had lived with her mother at a homeless shelter at the old D.C. General Hospital, has been the subject of an intense search. She disappeared while she was spending time with a shelter janitor, Kahlil Tatum, 51, who shot his wife and then himself. Relisha simply vanished.
NOVEMBER 2013: Social workers found evidence that children were unsupervised and that one child had been thrown to the ground and slapped, causing a split lip. This occurred while the family was living at the homeless shelter at the old D.C. General Hospital.
FEBRUARY 26, 2014: Kahlil Malik Tatum, a janitor at the homeless shelter at the old D.C. General Hospital, is seen with Relisha walking toward a room in a Holiday Inn Express on Bladensburg Road NE. Police believe Relisha’s mother, Shamika Young, handed her daughter over Tatum, but Young denies she did so.
MARCH 1, 2014: D.C. police chief Cathy Lanier said there is no confirmed sightings of Tatum and Relisha together after March 1, and no sightings of Relisha at all after that date.
MARCH 13, 2014: A counselor at Payne Elementary writes a referral to the D.C. Child and Family Services Agency noting Relisha’s many absences. She missed more than 30 days, but officials say many were excused by her mother for illness, citing a “Dr. Tatum.”
MARCH 19, 2014: The investigation Begins
MARCH 20, 2014: Police find missing truck and charge Tatum
One person returns to the motel at 5:40 a.m. and sees Tatum’s wife, Andrea Tatum, lying on the bed. He is not allowed inside. He tells police that in the last month he helped Tatum do Internet searches for a handgun and downloaded images on an Apple iPad.
— At 8:01 a.m., Prince George’s County Police receive a request from D.C. Police to help with the missing child. They learn Tatum might be driving a maroon 2007 Chevrolet Trail Blazer with a Washington Redskins emblem on the back window. Police say the vehicle was seen parked outside Room 132 of the Red Roof Inn. Police went inside and found Andrea Tatum, 51, lying face down on a bed and shot once in the head.
— Police put out an alert for another vehicle, a white GMC truck, but find that abandoned in Hyattsville. Tatum is charged in a warrant with murder in connection with the killing.
MARCH 25, 2014: A reward for information
The FBI releases video (seen above) of Tatum and Relisha in the Holiday Inn in Northeast taken on Feb. 26. They post a $25,000 reward for the return of Relisha and police in Prince George’s post a separate $25,000 reward for information leading to Tatum’s arrest in the killing.
MARCH 26, 2014: Officials say they were duped
District officials say they were duped into thinking Relisha’s extended absences were excused, citing the false reference to a “Dr. Tatum.” They defended the handling of the case, saying school notified child welfare officials in accordance with the law.
MARCH 28, 2014: Tatum had contact with other girls
Police say Tatum also had contact with several other young girls at the shelter, even though such contact is strictly prohibited.
MARCH 31, 2014: Police: Body found in park likely Tatum
Police Chief Cathy Lanier says investigators think a man found dead Monday in a D.C. park is Kahlil Tatum, the janitor suspected of abducting 8-year-old Relisha Rudd.
APRIL 1, 2014: Body positively ID'd as Tatum
The body found during a search for missing Relisha Rudd is positively identified as Kahlil Tatum.
APRIL 6, 2014: Wanting to escape
Relatives say Relisha wanted out of the homeless shelter so desperately that she would fake asthma attacks to stay at their homes. Adults who were close to her described her arriving with filthy clothes, dirty hair and an empty stomach, and they said she often didn’t want to leave.
APRIL 19, 2014: Volunteers undeterred
More than two dozen searchers fanned out across four locations in Northeast and Southeast Washington, clutching fliers with a ubiquitous black and white image of Relisha wearing braids.
DEC. 10, 2015: Police resume search for Relisha Rudd
The search resumed for Relisha Rudd as more than 60 police officers, cadets and federal agents looked carefully through a large construction site in Northeast Washington.
APRIL 6, 2016: Police launch new search
Police launched a new search for Relisha, saying it would involve divers around the National Arboretum.
For more information see
FBI Archives: https://archives.fbi.gov/archives/washingtondc/press-releases/2014/authorities-release-video-surveillance-of-kahlil-malik-tatum-and-relisha-tenau-rudd
Crime Junkie episode: https://crimejunkiepodcast.com/missing-relisha-rudd-unique-harris/
submitted by Diego-C747 to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]


2020.07.04 08:44 SpacePandy I was emotionally abused and manipulated for 3 years, and it has stuck with me for the last 9 years.

Content Warning: Suicide talk, rape
This is gonna get pretty long, and I apologize. The few names involved will be changed.
First a preface. I was inspired to type this up after finding out about all of the allegations in the Super Smash Bros. community, and in particular by one who was sexually abused by a 24 year old woman while he was just 14. Seeing the replies on Twitter of the typical "lol sounds like heaven to me" rhetoric that people usually use in response to any male talking about abuse of this nature gave me a sour taste because it's not okay, and no male, female, non-binary, etc, should feel like putting it all out there was a mistake.
At the end of the day, it's cathartic to talk about it and just get it out there, but this is more in solidarity of victims of abuse than it is for me. I've made my peace with it, but I don't talk about it very much.

I'm a 26 year old man now, and this happened back in 2009-2011 when I was 15 going on 16 and ended after I turned 18. Back then, I was part of a roleplaying forum (for those that don't know: sort of like a place for people to portray characters of a given media and write fanfiction) for Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy. We had a small but relatively close-knit community who got along very well. At the time it was September of 2009, I was a Sophmore in high school and had just broken up with my most recent girlfriend.

There was a girl - we'll call her Dana - that was a part of our group that I got along with particularly well, and we became pretty good friends. I was 15 at the time, she was 17. We talked a lot in the chatbox on the site before exchanging MSN emails so we could talk on MSN/Windows Live Messenger. She had a boyfriend, John. she listened to me lament my break up. Nothing spectacular, but over time I started to develop a crush on her. Over time she told me about her own relationship woes. Her previous ex, Sean, was physically abusive and pretty manipulative. I was disgusted, because of course abuse is disgusting. Then it turned to how John was getting distant and she felt he was falling out of love for her. Me, being a naive teenage kid, saw a glimmer of hope that maybe something could work out between us. I never outright did anything, just dropped hints of my feelings here and there.

Eventually, Dana revealed that she and John broke up due to the loss of feelings between them. I comforted her, of course. I started getting flirty, and in time she started flirting back. After a time, we both directly confessed feelings for one another. The biggest hurdle for a relationship between us was distance. I'm in a US state in the Southeast, she was in the Midwest. But we were willing to give it a chance in December 2009, our entire relationship being MSN conversations, text messages, phone calls, the occasional picture. Things were pretty innocuous and normal for a while. Nothing too special. The only significant thing that really happened was me being allowed to skip my Junior year and be a Senior the following year of high school. I promise that is relevant.

Summer 2010 my sister asked me to come house sit for her for a few days while she had to go out of town for a bit. I was happy because I could bring my laptop. Back home, I lived so far into the country our internet was dial up and we didn't have anything that better at the time. But this meant I could use my laptop on their wifi and talk to Dana on a video call on MSN. So that's what we did. This is probably where all of the trouble truly started between us, looking back now.

Around this time John had popped back up and been talking to Dana a lot. She talked to me about it, I tried to be a good person, a good boyfriend, and be someone she could talk to about anything. A lot of the details are blurry now but it can be summarized as that she thought she was falling in love with him again, and was feeling torn between the two of us. She even put the three of us into a group chat on MSN so he and I could talk to each other. Why? Fuck if I know, I still don't know why or what her reason at the time was. All I know is that we sort of had this pissing contest to try and win her over, for lack of a better way to put it. He was older, and honestly better looking than me, so I felt like the underdog and I fought hard. In the end, she decided to stay with me and I felt like I won. I still had my girlfriend, and I was beginning to experience love for the first time.

The rest of the summer was pretty uneventful until around late July. On this day, Dana wasn't around at all. I hadn't talked to her on text, call, or MSN all day. Naturally I was a little worried because she never said anything about being gone, and I didn't know what was going on. I started asking our mutual friends if they had heard anything. One of them told me they had something that Dana asked them to send me when they talked to me, and sent me a file. I do not for the life of me remember anything that was written in it, but I knew it was a suicide note. I immediately grabbed my phone and tried to call her a few times. She finally answered, sobbing as she spoke. She told me she had just gotten some rope from the garage and my blood ran cold. I talked to her and eventually she and I both calmed down and we took things a step at a time. Things returned to normal. I started my Senior year, she started community college.

My senior year was when the downward spiral really started to kick in for us, and I kick myself for not seeing all of the red flags at the time. But when you're young, inexperienced, and experiencing 'true love' for the first time you will ignore a lot of things, I imagine. It started with our phone calls at night. We'd go from talking a couple of hours, to the point she wanted us to fall asleep on the phone together, and have phone sex. I obliged. Never got caught for phone sex, but got caught being on the phone at 2am a lot. But I kept doing it. The phone was always dead in the morning. I'd caught her sleeptalking a handful of times, but never anything significant. However, there were a few times where she woke me up calling my name over and over, and she'd say I was talking in my sleep, telling her I actually hated her and that she was worthless and it made her upset, so i'd spend the next ten or fifteen minutes trying to reassure her that I loved her and that that wasn't true. If I went quiet due to being sleepy, or lack of things to talk about after so long, she'd get upset I was going to fall asleep and start sleeptalking again, so I'd muster up what energy I had to stay awake until she fell asleep. Hindsight, again, is 20/20. I don't talk in my sleep, I never have.

Then she started talking about her friends, saying they had split personalities, or what I guess you would call Dissociative Personality Disorder now. They had several. Of course I took it for face value. Eventually she admitted that she had it too. The most common she showed was a little six year old girl that called herself Tiffy. I don't know if that was ever true, after a while none of this was ever mentioned ever again and I never asked.

Now she was beginning to talk about how she didn't like my friends, and thought they were bad people, especially one in particular. She'd rather I stay home and talk to her all the time than go out with them and have some fun, cause she felt like I was abandoning her even if I texted her while I was out. Eventually I started to turn against my friends, staying home all the time. Lying to them about why I wasn't going to hang out with them, or just refusing saying I had prior engagements but never actually saying what was going on.

Late December 2010, between Christmas and New Years I decided to go hang out with my friends and shot some fireworks, just spent time. That was all. Later that night, she brought it up and broke up with me over it and I was devastated. I did everything I could think of to plead and beg for her to reconsider, offering this and that. She eventually relented and we got back together the next day and I was happy again.

A couple months later we talked about meeting up. Unfortunately, our spring breaks did not line up. Mine was the week after hers. We talked about it, eventually talking to our parents, and hey diddle diddle she was flying down for a week in March 2011. I still had school, but we would still be together for real. We were beyond ecstatic. The week comes and my parents and i go pick her up from the airport, and we kiss and hug immediately. She was my first kiss, first everything really. But it's funny how it never felt that awkward.

So I went to school, just ready to go home so I could spend time with her. It went well, actually. We went out on a few dates, spent time with my family. My friends even came over and met her, though there was tension in the air between them. I think it was the only time I saw them that week aside from school. My parents were mad because we'd be on my bed most of the time. Eventually one day that week, we decided to have sex and I lost my virginity. Only of note because I, like a dumbass, didn't bother with a condom. The rest of the week passed and she flew back.

A few weeks later she claimed she had a miscarriage. I don't know to this day whether that is true or not. My final week of class, I found out that the band Cage The Elephant was going to be doing a show in a city nearby at a local place and tickets were $20, I really really wanted to go. Dana guilt tripped me into never going to the show.

Graduation time wasn't particularly notable other than us talking about when we'd get to see each other again. She wasn't able to come down for graduation, but she talked to her parents and they decided to buy me a ticket to fly up there to see her and stay there with her and her family for two weeks around the July 4th, 2011. I kinda sprung this on my parents out of nowhere so they kinda had to agree to it. Not my smartest move.

Before the time came, though, in June 2011 there were a few more notable incidents. One day she talks to me, sounding very upset and says she has to tell me something. What she tells me is that her friend, Carlos, raped her. She told me she cried and pleaded with him to let her at least call me and she'd let him do whatever he wanted. Obviously, he didn't let her. I was beyond pissed off, but what could I do a couple thousand miles away? Then a couple weeks later she said she had something else to tell her. She told me that she and her ex Sean had been hanging out on Fridays, playing some games. But every time, he would pressure her into sex. Me, in my infinite wisdom, told her to just stop hanging out with him then, but she more or less said she didn't wanna stop hanging out and playing games. I let it go.

Then I finally fly up there. Meet her family, we all get along pretty well. Have fun, get to see places shes talked about, she takes me to cool stores where I got a few souvenirs. Buy her an N64 and a few games for like $30. I meet her friends, and they're pretty cool people, we all get along. We go see fireworks for the 4th of July. I honestly had a really great time and things were great.

When I get home, things are more or less normal, though the situation with Sean is apparently still going on. I'm getting ready to go to college out of state, and I'm actively considering trying to change to another college that's near where she lives, but obviously my parents are like 'no.' Blessing in disguise.

August 2011 I move to campus 8 hours away with all of the stuff I need for school, dorm life, and my truck. I'm at one of my worst points. I don't want to be there, I feel like I'm making a mistake. But nothing I can do about it, and school starts. I don't make an effort to really make friends, not even with my roommate. (Eventually I would learn that I just do not like school and don't do well with that environment, and this wasn't entirely because of this relationship.)

Early September 2011, we don't have school for Labor Day, so we have a longer weekend. She's only 8 hours away from me, so without telling my own parents, I drive all the way up to see her and spend the weekend with her and her family again. My parents, to this day, do not know that I did that. Aside from that, the notable thing that happened this time is that I met both Sean and Carlos. You'd think I'd be absolutely livid to meet them, but in my naivete I took in in stride and I got along with both of them pretty well, especially Carlos. We had a small get together with her friends on Labor Day. I had class the next day, so I skipped class and got back to campus that day. I ended up failing that class.

At this time the cracks were truly starting to show in our relationship. She started a job at Chick-fil-A, and I was happy for her. She seemed to enjoy it, and made friends with several coworkers, most notably a guy named Daniel. I was a little weary, but tried to ignore it, thinking its just stupid jealousy. We start bickering a bit every once in a while, but we kept going forward.

I turned 18 in October of 2011. My mom and sister, with her several month old child drove eight hours to come visit me at school the weekend of my birthday. We went downtown in the city, we even went to an automotive museum, as cars are one of my passions in life, but I was adamant about not having fun. I wouldn't allow myself to have fun with it because I wasn't with Dana. I just made myself miserable and placated my mom and sister. (...I've never talked about this particular event before, and this is probably the first time since October 2011 that I've thought about this in its full context, and despite my strained relationship with my mom, this actually hurts to realize.)

The following weekend, I drove up to see Dana again. This time, neither of our parents knew. She told her parents she was staying over at a friends house for the weekend. I picked her up from her friends, and we went and watched a movie at a theater, I think it was either the final Harry Potter, or The Hangover Part II. Then we had to find somewhere to stay that night. We ended up at a La Quinta Inn because it was the only hotel that allowed a 19 year old to book a room, so we stayed there for the weekend. It was the last time we hugged, kissed, had sex, everything. I never saw her in person again.

The final days of October and the first of November was the climax of the tension that had been growing between us. I had her Facebook login information, I had for a while just like she'd had mine. One night, for whatever reason, I decided to login on hers and see a conversation between her and her friend talking about Daniel. He had asked her out on a date, and she was trying to decide what to do about it. We were still together at this point. I confronted her about this. Once the initial anger about me logging into her account unwarranted had passed she told me yes, it happened, and that she still hadn't made a decision. I was like "What the fuck? You have a boyfriend!" and we started arguing. She broke up with me for the final time, saying she was going on the date. It destroyed me. I was beyond upset and it took me a long time to recover.

We continued to talk, probably out of my vain and stupid hope we'd get back together yet again. I asked her how her date ended up going and she said it was pretty wonderful and that he asked her to be his girlfriend, and I asked her what she said, hoping she said no. But she said yes. I started crying again. She assured me we could still be friends and that everything will be okay in the end. And for a while, it seemed like things were becoming a new normal, it wasn't so bad. She made a point that she didn't want to have sex with him until they'd been in a relationship for six months, because she wanted to make sure the feelings between them were real. I thought that was pretty cool and left it at that.

Thanksgiving, obviously I wasn't going to see her, so I drove back home. Black Friday 2011 she texts me, asking if we can talk. I reply 'Sure' and call her. I ask her what's up, and she says she felt like she had no one else to turn to, because she knew I wouldn't judge her for it. Naturally I ask what is it? She then admits to me, less than a month after we broke up that she and Daniel had sex the previous night. She tells me how it was the best sex she's ever had, and went into a bit more detail that I won't repeat. I kept a straight face, but inside I felt my heart, which had begun to repair, die again. We hung up, and I never said anything else to her for few days. This was the point I finally lost respect for her. A few days after I got back to school, for whatever reason I decided to try logging into her Facebook again. It worked. And I caught her in a conversation with Daniel, making fun of me and talking about how she may still have my login information, and him suggesting she change my name to make fun of my genitals. Thankfully, she didn't do it. But I made sure to change my password.

This probably kicked off my actual depression, and in January 2012 between not liking school, and the emotional hurricane I had been through for the past six months, I dropped out and went back home. The final time we talked was February 2012. I was on the way to repairing my damaged friendships. She tells me one night, again because I 'wouldn't judge', that she's pregnant. This was the final straw and I stopped giving two shits about her entirely. A few nights later I'm hanging out with my friend that she hated the most. And I'm talking to him about the call back in November. And for whatever, reason, I had an idea. I pulled out my phone and texted her asking if she has a minute, and she says yeah. I ask her if she remembers the girl I mentioned that I have a crush on a few weeks ago. She says yeah, what about her? Since she took the bait, I proceeded to tell her that she and I had sex in her car the night before, giving her just as much detail as she had done to me. I just wanted to get even, as petty as it is. It worked better than I hope, she replies saying shes crying and realizes now what she did to me in November and apologizes profusely. I start laughing and close my phone, and I've never really talked to her since then. To this day she doesn't know I lied about the whole thing, it was for the sole reason of being a petty asshole to make myself feel a little better.



I was 18 then, I'm 26 right this second. It took me years to recognize the lasting effects that relationship had on me. Looking back, I don't know how much of the things she told me about Sean and Carlos are real, if any of it. I have my doubts about the suicide attempt I supposedly caught her in the middle of. In all seriousness, I think she just straight up cheated on me and used that as a way to get around it. Maybe she was into it. Hell if I know her reasons, and at this point I don't care to know.

I never really got closure, and to this day I'm extremely skeptical if anyone shows interest me romantically, sexually, whatever. It kick started my depression which has hung around and evolved since then. As a result of how manipulative and draining the relationship is, I'm now an emotionally very distant person and don't feel a whole lot, and I'm bad at showing it to the few people I've been interested in. And to those few people, I'm sorry for being so distant, and questioning of how genuine your feelings were. It took me years to realize this was a result of what Dana did to me. It took me that long to understand not only was I emotionally manipulated, I was emotionally abused. For nearly three whole years.

As far as silver linings, though, I learned a lot about relationships and what red flags to recognize in someone. So I'm thankful for that much, I guess. But I had to get this off of my chest, and if someone reading this can see that it's okay for me, a 26 year old man, to come forward and talk about how he was abused by a girlfriend in a world that normally won't take a male abuse victim seriously, then that can show them that it's okay to talk about it too if they've been through it. You're not alone in this, you never were, and you never will be. Do not be afraid to step forward and tell the truth. The right people will listen to you, and fuck everyone else that tries to disparage you for it.

If you sat through reading this entire bloated and long winded story of a post, I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was extremely cathartic and the most I have talked about this experience in a very long time, and some details I've never told anyone before. It feels good to just lay it all out.



tl;dr: My ex-girlfriend emotionally abused and manipulated me for a few years and it has had lasting effects, and I want people to know that its okay to come forward about their abuse, too.
submitted by SpacePandy to offmychest [link] [comments]


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