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If you missed my grand entrance into the silver city,
I recommend reading my last post. If nothing here makes sense to you, start from the very
beginning. I apologize for the long period without news. I received an unexpected visit, and because of it, I was bedridden for quite some time. I'm grateful that my boss saw everything happen—I mean, saw what he
thought was happening—and assured me that I would receive financial assistance while I recover.
Did you know that if you don't have most of your documents, the hospital bombards you with questions? It's pretty obvious, isn't it? It's a shame I didn't think of that while I was being taken there; I could have jumped out of the car and avoided the headache.
Jokes aside, the last few weeks have brought me answers. Maybe I have a chance to correct some mistakes. Maybe all of this wasn't just a desperate final act to gain favor with the Lord. This place has been much more useful than I anticipated.
Today's post is important because I finally have the chance to talk about the most precious information one can have when condemned to the abyss:
how to escape it.
But before I start walking through my memories, I need to tell you guys how I ended up in this miserable state.
In short, I got into a fistfight with an angel.
And If you think I got all busted up, you should see the other guy!
As I mentioned in my last post, beings from the depths of Tartarus have been haunting me since my escape. Jailers of rotting flesh, insectoids with multiple faces that recount countless insults to my person.
With focus and meditation, I can ignore them during the day, endure them at night, and pray not to encounter them in my dreams. Although this last one always seems to happen, I usually manage to carry on with my life relatively well.
I just didn't knew that hell wasn't the only realm keeping an eye on me. With that in mind now, I should have noticed that something was wrong.
I have been having strange encounters.
A taxi driver who, instead of taking me to my apartment, guided me without me noticing to the nearest Catholic church and vanished with the car as quickly as he arrived.
A lady in the park who watched over me throughout the period I spent enjoying my late afternoon near the lake. I don't remember the color of her eyes, but something tells me she had more than one pair.
And the most recent one, a beggar who threw me against the wall as I exited through the back of the burger joint with my boss.
I couldn't see him arrive because he wasn't there initially; it's as if he had materialized from thin air in a matter of seconds.
I remember opening the door and heading towards the gutter, then an unbearable heat enveloped my body for a brief moment, and I was thrown against the wall.
At first, I also thought it was just a random bum trying to rob me, but the spectral glow in his eyes, the way reality slightly warped around his body, and his voice that echoed in my mind like the roar of a beast told me otherwise.
I... panicked.
You see, I am doing everything I can to avoid setting foot in Gehenna again. Until that attack, I clung to the comforting fact that I am out of that prison, that they can't hurt me anymore.
So when one of the soldiers from the celestial ranks pushed me against the wall, wrapping his heavy hands around my neck, a primordial fear crumbled my will. I could barely struggle as he roared in my mind.
"To dust thou returned, and cannot stay here. Thy soul, stained by the ashes of hell, is marked by the blood of the star. In thee, he sees a way out; in thee, the holy sees a mistake."
In his eyes, I could recognize pity and hatred.
He saw me as something so small and fragile, something to be protected from the claws of sin. One of the Creator's toys that had been so rudely broken and was now fighting against the rules that guide existence.
In his own words, a mistake. One that needed to be fixed.
Even with such a fragile appearance, his strength was tremendous. He squeezed my throat while whispering apologies in my mind. I could see demons approaching in the darkness, ready to grasp my soul in my final moments.
My heart racing, my mind almost devoid of oxygen, I could no longer think straight—I was going to die.
I stretched my arms against the wall, anything would do, any way to defend myself.
My hand closed around something cold and heavy, and with all my strength, I pulled.
Adrenaline is a powerful drug. I managed to wrench one of the rusty bars from the window and hit him with all I had.
The blow sent him into the street, where a van ran him over shortly after.
My boss insists that I had a panic attack and that in my altered state, I ended up throwing a loose iron rod at a school van, scaring some poor kid shitless, before fainting on the ground.
This brings me many questions.
Now more than ever, I feel paranoid, watched.
And knowing that people wouldn't even know if I were being attacked terrifies me.
I feel like my time is running out, something horrible is about to happen. So without further ado, I must fulfill my purpose and at least help you while we still walk in the same plane.
Hell is a place of torture and punishment, the reward our sins earn us in the afterlife, but it is also a prison.
It's not just for the sinners who wander the circles in search of a light that has long rejected them, but also for the original evil—the serpent that hisses hatred long before humanity even dreamed of existing.
The being forged when the Creator and the original angels still roamed the cosmos, shaping and expanding it.
He who was once God´s favorite, but has since fell with a third of the stars.
The one who commands faithful followers both on Earth and in the depths.
The concept of time in hell is complicated; some circles distort your perception, and two hours can suddenly become two minutes.
Combine this with the lack of natural light and claustrophobic confinements, and you will see that most of the slaves in the Silver City go through years like zombies, one day indistinguishable from the next, unaware if they have been there for a day or a decade.
In my fourth year as Jack's torture toy, this condition was affecting me aggressively.
Over the years, Jack had opened my schedule, allowing me to work under the orders of some of his followers in other regions of his kingdom, still confined behind the walls and never seeing the light of day.
My schedule was cruel and irregular, so much so that even today I must admit that I am not confident in stating that only four years have passed. In the morning, Astaroth would play with my mind; I lived a thousand lives with a thousand deaths, the profane void and the painful light of the vastness, my mind reduced to ashes and then expanded beyond the confines of my skull.
Immediately after, I was blindfolded and taken to the Pleasure zone, where I was forced to synthesize drugs and beverages from the blood of beasts and fungi.
In the floor directly below one of the main sales points of the Scarlet Maiden, the most purchased drug in the city, I worked for hours grinding and heating, accumulating terrible blisters and burns while my mind was numbed by the aroma and visions.
In a hot and cramped room, I was joined by five other slaves, and there we spent most of the day.
Deaths from overdose were common, some fell from excessive work, others were killed for pure pleasure. Our guards were always incredibly high and enjoyed mistreating us to maintain their sense of power.
Pawns so low in the hierarchy of the infernal king, probably venting years of spite in our daily sessions.
From time to time, the owner of the operation would come down to check the quality of the product, which was never refined enough, and would punish us for it.
By order of the king, he wouldn't lay a hand on me, but he made me watch and often forced me to participate in the torture of my colleagues. Fingers cut off, teeth pulled out, hot iron spikes on the backs of those who spilled even a gram of his precious product.
The things I was forced to do still keep me awake.
And always accompanying him, I saw her.
Unfortunately for Mice, the girl brought with me did not meet her end in his perverted arms, but in the hands of one of Jack's captains. Always with a distant look, drugged beyond her limit, following her master like an obedient dog.
Occasionally, she would watch me with a hint of sanity in her eyes.
While her master punished us. she often tried to approach me, but always without success.
When the work was done, I was put to sleep with gas and woke up again imprisoned in the palace catacombs, ready to endure another session of agony before sleep.
Day after day, this insanity continued, my long-diminished hope was exhausted, I became a shadow, a shell of my former self, ready to follow the next order, begging for mercy that was never granted.
This cycle continued until one particular night, when I woke up again below the castle, chained to the wall, with a decrepit old man beside me.
For some reason, Astaroth had let me rest that night; I should have suspescted something was wrong.
In the darkness, his face was hard to discern. I remember terrible dark circles, short and damaged gray hair. His eyes were sunken, pulling you in like ocean waves, his lips cut, and what seemed to be terrible gashes on his neck.
"So... it's true?" the old man murmured, breaking the silence.
"What are you talking about?"
"I've heard that madman's ravings many times, but this sounds different; there's some ground that supports the theory this time."
"I don't have time for the ramblings of a senile old man."
"Do you really have the Mark of the Beast?"
I stared into his eyes, recalling the same claim coming from my captor's mouth.
That fucking mark, up until then, I thought it was just an excuse that bastard Mice used to save his own neck, one that had cost me four years of confinement.
But there was a fearful weight in the old man's voice; his words carried a sense of truth.
"What is this damn mark? Ever since I set foot in this cursed city, I've been treated like merchandise, my mind scourged night after night because of this shit! You're all mistaken, you're wasting your time! Leave me alone!"
"Haven't you noticed anything strange, young man? We're just a bunch of damned souls in hell, but don't you feel that your stay has been particularly difficult? As if the very ground fights to keep you here?"
"I..."
"I've listened to the ramblings of the collector who found you; you were captured by an angel, weren't you? That doesn't usually happen. Something attracted it, just like the Succubus, just like the beasts."
"I'm just a wretched soul; there's nothing more to it. I'm only getting what I deserve! I should have been patient, Holly didn't deserve that, but she was going to tell everything! She was going to show the photos, and I was going to lose my job, my damn family, my house! I saw no other way! And now I'm paying for it, nothing more, nothing less..."
"Do you really think that's all there is to it? So many here with souls far more rotten than yours, yet still surrounded by pleasure and power. If hell worked as you think, why would Jack have what he has? Why would sinners be able to raise such a heresy as this metropolis?"
"I don't know, damn it! I just want all of this to end! I just want to go home!"
In the moments that followed, the old man pondered something in his mind, looking avidly into the darkness, fearing we were being watched, and then he said calmly, "I know a way out."
Despair is dangerous; the lack of a path, of a light, brings out the worst in humanity. Surrounded by eternal darkness, I was presented with a way out of torment, and it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
"Don't say anything, just listen to me. If what I've heard about you is true, there is a chance. But I'll only tell you everything if you promise to take me with you. I'll withhold details as we travel to make sure you don't betray me. You'll do everything I say, how I say it, when I say it, or the deal is off."
"Wait, travel? To where?"
"The ninth circle of hell, of course, where the one who marked you is eagerly waiting. There, he holds a passage to a higher plane, where perhaps one can obtain a new body. "
A shock ran through my heart, a new body.
A way out of here.
"Even if all of this is true, how do you suppose we escape from here? It's not like Jack will suddenly repent of his sins and set us free overnight."
"That part I'll leave to you. Think of it as a test of your abilities. If you can get us out of here, it will serve as proof that you can handle the journey to the depths of the abyss. If we get caught, I'll know I was wrong about you."
We didn't talk for the rest of the night. I couldn't sleep either; how could I? My mind was restless with the possibility of salvation, an escape route from all the pain, a new chance at life. I just needed to get us out of there, but how? Trapped in the catacombs, without even the grace of seeing the city, I had no idea what things were like on the surface. I couldn't formulate a plan.
At least, not alone.
Patiently, I waited, the days passing by, torturous and merciless. But in that moment, I had gained a frightening resilience, with something to cling to, hope had flourished again, I thought not even the corrupted shadows of the city could shake me anymore.
Damn, was I wrong.
Finally, the day I had been waiting for arrived. You see, with so many slaves falling from excessive work and cruelty, an exchange would happen from time to time, and some familiar faces would appear when I was lucky.
On that day, when the blindfold was removed, I had to hold back from showing my happiness.
In the laboratory with me was John, tied to a wooden table in the corner grinding fungi with a leather mask, and in the middle, cracking open beasts' skulls with a giant hammer, was the gigantic man who had been captured with me.
A long day followed, the smell of sweat, blood, and drugs intensifying with each passing hour.
My eyes were keenly watching the movement of the guards, restless and anxious. It was almost a daily ritual, the moment they secretly entered the stockroom to 'evaluate the quality of the product.'
Precious few minutes when we were left alone.
As always, the guards grew tired of the trembling and tapping feet and retreated to the stockroom, threatening us with the loss of our eyes if we told anyone. As soon as the door closed, I got up and went directly to John.
As naturally as I could, I put on the leather mask and pretended to help him with the fungi while whispering by his side:
"I don't have time to explain, but I might be able to get us out of here, and I need your help to do it."
His calloused hands stopped working, dropping the equipment on the table.
"What?! Nate, is this true?"
"Don't turn to me, keep working."
Slowly, he returned to mashing the fungi and sorting them into small bags. He was trembling, making mistakes; hope in hell can easily shake anyone.
"What do you need?"
"Information, you work outside too, don't you?"
"Selling everything to the addicts who come from the lower city, but I don't know if I trust my life to anything that comes out of their mouths."
"That's something already. I need to know everything, even if it doesn't seem important. Please tell me, maybe we can-" — A heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
That behemoth of a person was standing right behind me.
He had heard everything.
Even with the constant cacophony of the equipment, the incessant blabbering from the upper store, and the lower tone of our voices, he had listened. He knew we were trying to escape.
"I want in."
"What?"
"A cripple and a pile of sticks? There's no way in hell you two are escaping this city without my help. If you want to do this, I'm coming along. If not, the guards will have a nice little surprise when they come back."
I could hear footsteps approaching. His expression made his intentions clear. I had no other choice at the moment but to include him in the team.
"Damn it, fine! Information, as much as you can get. When we meet here in the lab, we'll share everything we've discovered. Once we have a plan, we start taking action."
The door opened, and the soldiers entered, still with their masks down and their noses full of powder, seeing each of us quietly in our respective places.
In the following weeks, with the extra help, I was able to learn a lot about the flow of drugs and weapons in the city.
The Greek god of a man is named Yudi, and when he's not in the lab, he spends his days carrying metal plates to the lower city until his feet bleed.
With him, we discovered that about twice a month, the Collectors go out in droves through the gates toward Lust in search of fresh meat, taking with them an absurd amount of metal to supply the numerous outposts scattered throughout the circle.
John had discovered that a significant portion of the merchants in the Pleasure Zone use this expedition to transport a large part of their stock to the higher circles right under Jack's nose. On the night before the group's departure, the masters' most valued slaves are chosen to carry box after box to a certain warehouse in the lower city. There, the Collectors take their share of the deal and hide the goods in their cars before the day begins.
The collectors' parts are properly marked, and the rest is supposedly not opened.
In the darkness of the dungeon, my mind began to formulate a plan. If we could find a way to stay in the lab until the end of the shift, we might be able to infiltrate the merchandise and escape the Silver City through the front gate.
There were still many problems: the merchandise was moved at night, precisely when we were taken to our respective 'dormitories'. Our absence would surely be noticed. And how on earth were we supposed to even know which box would be moved to the warehouse and which would be sold the next day?
If we were to do that, we needed more information, but we also needed to be quick.
Up until that point since the old man's arrival, Astaroth and Jack had left me alone. If they decided to do another torture session, the Archduke of Hell would claim domain over my mind again and know exactly what I was planning to do.
I shivered, thinking about what horrors would await me after that.
Each night before bed, I updated the old man on the progress of my plan, asking for details on exactly how we would escape from that cursed plane when we reached the ninth circle. But that bastard never said anything, just looked at me waiting for my next move.
Afraid of losing the precious window that had opened for me, I foolishly decided that it would be better if we acted quickly and forced fate to smile upon us for a change.
When I woke up in the laboratory the next day, I took advantage of the guards busy fucking with their own minds to tell my colleagues the plan.
It was insane, but what in that pit of despair was coherent?
On rare occasions, the old man graced us with his presence in the laboratory; because of the agreement, he had to come along. I gave the excuse that he knew of a safe place where we could rest if we managed to escape. It wasn't convincing, but what other choice did they have but to accept?
When the four of us were working together, we would act. Thanks to John, I found out that we didn't always work the day shift in the laboratory; every other day, we spent entire nights in that damn cramped place.
If we caused a distraction, we could use the panic to invade the stockroom and hide among the merchandise that would be mislaid. The slaves would take us to the Warehouse, and from there, we would rely on luck for them to be too busy searching for us in the Upper City to find us.
We would have to leave before Jack was notified of our escape; with Astaroth by his side, there was no place in the city where we could hide.
Luckily, nobody wants to be the one to bring bad news to the psycho.
With the plan set, we began to act.
Having no idea the self-appointed King of Hell was already well aware of our actions.
The day I escaped from the Silver City was also the day I officially gave up my humanity while in hell.
Hatred, anger, they consume the heart of everyone, from the purest to the most honorable, not that I am anywhere close to being either of those things.
Even to this day, I still feel dirty, undeserving to be here now, and I know it all too well, but still, I do not regret the things I did to survive.
The plan had started well, with all of us together in the laboratory feeling anxious with every passing second, my stomach churning, my hands trembling. I didn't know how to act normally anymore, didn't want to raise suspicions, so I hyperfocused on my work, waiting for the end of the shift.
Cutting muscles from beasts, roasting ground fungus powder with a meat-like texture, slowly being numbed by the sweet aroma that always hung in the laboratory.
The sound of footsteps upstairs had considerably reduced, one of the signs that the shop was about to close, I looked at Yudi and nodded.
You know, the strange fungus that grows on the walls of the city has some interesting characteristics, they call it Dead Man's Fiber, to the touch it's like touching wrinkled skin, when ground and heated, a strange reaction causes it to become slimy and acidic, sticking to human muscle it devours it, generating a byproduct in the form of orange powder. The unrefined form of Scarlet Maiden.
In this state, the drug is highly unstable, and upon contact with water, it rapidly increases its temperature, which can give you horrible burns.
Or, if there's a sufficient amount, an explosion.
Throughout the day, little by little, we gathered five small bags filled with the byproduct, hiding them beneath the many empty bags scattered in the corner.
When I nodded, Yudi slowly rose and headed to the pile; the soldiers had once again left to get high, so he quickly planted the powder bags around the boiler, attracting curious glances from the poor souls accompanying us on that shift.
I hoisted John onto my back, the old man following closely behind, and we positioned ourselves at the edge of the stairs.
As soon as Yudi saw that we were ready, he lifted the water jug we received at the beginning of each day and threw it toward the boiler.
Then, chaos.
An explosion caused the floor directly above the boiler to collapse, powder and chemical gases making it nearly impossible to see more than a foot ahead, screams and cries of pain ensued.
One of the slaves who accompanied us was caught in the blast; an iron pipe from the boiler had pierced his neck, pinning him to the wall, the last customers of the shop above were caught in the flames that rose like a mushroom through the hole that opened in the floor.
Soldiers hurried down the stairs to control the fire, not seeing us pressed against the wall, we quietly went up as soon as everyone descended to control the damage.
John guided us to the stockroom; we had little time until the merchandise was moved to be saved from the flames.
I could already hear murmurs from outside; the distraction had worked, we had drawn attention.
Perhaps, too much of it.
In the darkness of the stockroom, it was hard to see anything; dozens of boxes filled the space, mostly unmarked. We had no idea which ones to break into.
"What now? Do we just pick at random? You told us you had a plan!" Yudi said, pulling at my shirt.
"Now is not the time for this!" John said somewhere in the dark. "Fuck, just...I don't know, pry open one of the smaller ones! There's supposed to be a way for the collectors to know which one to pick, maybe there's something inside!"
"Look at how many boxes there are! The fire is already spreading, it won't take long till-" Yudi was interrupted by a pound at the door.
"Open this fucking door already! I want my powder safe and sound, do you hear me! Useless bitch, hurry up!"
What little time we had was about to be over. I could faintly see scared eyes looking at me for answers in the darkness. My heart was pounding, and I just wanted to get out of there.
I noticed a pile of boxes that was more isolated than the others. Without light, it was hard to tell, but with no other choice, I hurried towards them.
The door was about to give in; we would have to rely on luck.
We opened two boxes, put on the leather masks in an attempt to avoid inhaling too much of the drug, and split up, hiding within the merchandise. I stayed with John, trusting that Yudi would take care of the old man.
The door gave in with a loud thud.
"Quick, you incompetents! I want every damn gram secured! And you, slut, get two more and get this shit out of here now! If Jack shows up, he's going to ask questions, and questions ruin an honest man's business."
The screams and footsteps, the smell of the drug making me dizzy, the smoke from the fire engulfing the shop. We were hurriedly moved to the elevator, and as I felt us descending, a wave of relief filled my heart.
Through the small cracks in the wood, I could distinguish the lower city slowly growing larger, the plan was working as intended.
I remember John smiling.
Maybe it was the drug, maybe it was the euphoria of the moment, but I remember being happy to have him with me.
...I miss him.
We were led to the warehouse, where they left the boxes and abandoned us in the darkness. I could hardly believe how well the plan was going.
Looking back now, I realize I was a fool.
The collectors never checked the boxes; they just loaded them onto the cars.
Before I could connect the dots, we were passing through the silver gates. Looking through the crack, I had once again the full view of that sin-ridden skeleton, and even as I moved away from it, I felt in my heart that I had already been touched by the city, and it tends to always reclaim what belongs to it.
The truck that was carrying us headed towards the Spire until the crown of the first circle was nothing more than a small dot on the horizon.
And then, it stopped.
"Why now? We haven't reached the spire yet, why stop now?" John whispered nervously in front of me.
Before I could respond, a chilling shiver ran down my spine upon hearing Mice's voice.
"Well, I think the little show has gone on long enough, hasn't it?"
The lid of our box opened, and I could hear the pumping sound of a shotgun. Above, Mice and two companions grinned maliciously at us.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Jack's new favorite little toy and his buddy! Care to tell me what you're doing in my shit?"
"Please, Mice, you can have the drugs, just let us go!" I pleaded.
Mice laughed, laughed so hard that his fucked-up lungs gave him a coughing fit. After composing himself, he ordered us to be taken out of the box. Yudi and the old man were already kneeling in the sand with their hands on their heads.
"Oh, fucking amazing! Hold on, let me get this straight. You really thought your dumbass idea would work out so well? Holy shit, buddy, you're really stupid, haha! Listen here, I'll tell you a little secret."
Mice approached my face, pressing the shotgun barrel against my chin.
"You would never have even found your little buddies again if Jack hadn't ordered it."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on! Use your fucking head! Everything so convenient, so perfect, your whole plan worked because Jack wanted it to. Your encounter with the old man, the information that reached your colleagues, the timings lining up, the guards leaving, all observed, all permitted."
My face contorted in horror; once again, I was nothing but a pawn, a toy of that maniac. Astaroth would always watch us, the king always controlling every miserable inch of his kingdom.
"Why!? Why would he let us get this far?"
"Something in your ultimate fate pleases him. If he can't extract any information from you, he'll just let you guide him to what he wants, won't he?"
"But then, why stop us now?"
Mice chuckled.
"Ding ding ding! This is the question of the moment! Congratulations, idiot, some neuron up there still works as it should! You see, I never cared about that mangy mutt. Jack is just a little baby who luckily gained a lot of power, if he's so afraid of what your mark represents like this, it means that you pose a danger to his empire, through you I'll have the chance to take the throne that has always belonged to me!"
Mice was interrupted by a sound, Yudi laughing as he watched kneeling.
With a smile, Mice approached, knelt in front of Yudi, carefully dusted the drug powder from his shoulders, and asked: "And what's so funny about that to you?"
"It's nothing, it's just that you call us idiots, but if you think you can usurp the throne with two piles of muscles and a tough attitude, you're even dumber than you seem to be."
The smell of gunpowder invaded my mind before I could process what had happened.
I remember touching my head, something was stuck in my hair, I lowered my hand and saw myself holding a loose tooth. "I heard a howl of fear, but why fear?
My ears were ringing, I couldn't think straight.
Yudi was lying back.
His skull sprawled across the sand, stained by a scarlet puddle.
"Oops, my bad, loose finger and all that."
"You motherfucker!" I lunged toward Mice, the barrel of his gun slowly turning towards me.
"No, no, no! I don't think so! If you lot wish to stay alive and not get a one-way ticket straight to Lust, where we already have some scouts ready to capture you, I must point out, you will behave!"
All that, just to become someone's toy again, I could hardly believe it.
Looking at Yudi's body, I wondered if he had felt any pain, the harder I made it for Mice, the better. Maybe if I were quick, I could escape the collectors in Lust.
But then, while I pondered, others acted.
The old man lunged at one of Mice's companions, biting his neck with all his might. The second one, startled, reached for his holster, but John quickly grabbed his legs, bringing him down to the ground.
They were willing to fight, to die for a chance.
Mice turned the gun towards them, pumping the shotgun once again. "Damn it, can't you do anything right? Stay still! I can't aim like this!"
I saw the opportunity and grabbed the shotgun.
A deadly tug-of-war ensued, punches and kicks thrown in an attempt to take control of the weapon, the power to kill. I was malnourished, still weak, tired, and slightly high. Mice was an experienced Collector, a bloodthirsty killer who had faced demons head-on. It was only a matter of time before he overpowered me.
I gave up pulling the shotgun towards me and pushed it with all the weight of my body towards Mice. We fell and rolled in the dry sand, the gun stopping a few feet ahead.
I crawled to the shotgun, Mice holding onto my feet and pulling me into another exchange of punches.
I don't know what came over me, all the anguish, all the fury and fear accumulated until that moment exploded into rage. I gave up on the gun and threw myself at Mice, landing repeated punches to his head.
Again, adrenaline is a powerful drug.
Screaming, without full control of my arms, I punched, I punched until Mice's face was nothing but a red mess, until his arms stopped retaliating, until his chest stopped breathing. I continued until tears filled my eyes and sobs choked my throat.
I looked at my hands, and the weight of what I had done became clear in my mind.
Killing a person changes you; you can feel life slipping away from their eyes. Even in that place, where death is just the beginning of another cycle of pain, it still holds its weight.
The old man's screams of pain snapped me out of my trance. His efforts were admirable, but he was eventually thrown to the ground, where the Collector attempted to strangle him. I grabbed the shotgun, and out of pure instinct, I struck the Collector's head with all my strength. He immediately fell onto the old man, the base of the gun now adorned with a red stain.
Looking to the side, John was trying to wrest the gun from the Collector, without success. In the distance, I could see dust rising; we weren't alone. The king had noticed that something was amiss.
The old man took the gun from my hands and opened a hole in the Collector's chest, who collapsed like a house of cards onto the dry ground.
The spire was visible; we needed to go. With John in my arms, I ran.
"Leave him behind! He'll do nothing but slow us down!"
I could feel John's embrace tighten. He knew he was a burden; he knew what they would do to him if we left him behind. I could feel his fear.
Ignoring the protests, I headed towards the spire.
They were getting closer; I could discern the caravan amidst the cloud of dust.
Upon reaching the spire, Aecus's judgmental gaze bore down on us coldly. Remembering Mice's words, I approached.
"Oh Aeacus! King of Aegina, my heart is not pure for rest, my eyes are blind to injustice, and my fists only weigh for my desires. From dust I came and to dust I return, my soul judged to forever burn, so I beg you to open the doors to my torment."
His cold gaze remained unmoved; the Spire would not heed my words.
"This won't work. We need to go to the lower circles. It would be incredible if we could get Rhadamanthus's attention, but at the top of Hell, it's hard for him to hear us."
"What do we do now? I've done my part; I got us out of the city. Do yours and take us to the Ninth Circle!"
The old man looked at me, his eyes burning with fury; for a moment, it seemed like there was a dark gleam in his eyes. He calmed himself and approached the entrance.
The followers of the morning star follow his teachings in exchange for secrets and powers greater than a mere sinner could ever dream of. How to survive in such a ruthless terrain, how to tame and enchant demons and spirits, how to change oneself.
The old man whispered words in a convoluted language forgotten by time. Aecus began to chant in response, and the spire trembled in anticipation, the chamber taking on a sinister glow.
Without looking back, the old man said, "A wish for a wish, a will for a gift, Blood taken in exchange for bliss"
"What the fuck
are you?" I asked.
"Nathanael, you have a choice to make. Do you want to escape Hell? Do you want your life back?"
"Of course!"
"Then John must die."
A chill ran down my spine. Nothing comes easy in the abyss. Only pain, only suffering.
John begged for mercy, and in my mind, I knew what I had to do, the price Minos demanded for his services. The old man merely watched me.
John fought, struggled until the last second.
He threw himself off my back and crawled through the sand towards the caravan, which was slowly approaching.
"I'm sorry, John."
I dragged him by the stumps of his legs into the depths of the spire. He tried to cling to the ground, breaking his nails in the process. I threw him against the inner wall, and in that moment, both of us could feel it.
The Spire would claim him.
There would be no turning back; death would be eternal. Nothingness would embrace him.
I had to ensure he wouldn't escape.
With tears in my eyes, I broke his arms, his screams still haunt me. Even to this day, I suffer from it; every morning, I hear his whispers, every night, his screams keep me awake.
I did what I had to do to survive.
I wished there was another option. I wished so much that John was still by my side, but Hell was devised in such a way that even something as simple as friendship is only allowed for punishment.
I tried to be quick. With one of the rocks from outside, I broke his knees, turned around, and left.
"Nate, please! Please, Nate, don't do this to me! You bastard, what did I ever do to you? I hope you suffer, you piece of shit! Burn a thousand times in the deepest pit of this place!"
When I left, a black mass flooded the chamber, and I could see as Nate was consumed by the Spire. Until the moment they were dissolved, his eyes never stopped looking at me in that way, with palpable hatred.
At that moment, I realized that everything I had suffered until then was justified, I belong in Hell.
I tried to warn; I am not a good person.
The mass took on a purple glow, and the old man quickly pulled me inside. The last thing I saw before disappearing was the red glow of Jack's ring approaching in the caravan.
The air in Heresy is putrid, a constant miasma floats in the air like snowflakes, slowly filling your lungs and eventually killing you.
Outside the Spire in the center of the 6th circle, I noticed for the first time a strange mark on the back of my left hand.
A delta adorned with thorns.
But at that moment, I couldn't focus on it; all I could do was cry, huddled near the Spire, wondering if it was all really worth it.
"Let's go, he doesn't like to wait."
"Who?"
He looked at me, with a somber look in his eyes.
"Samael, the Morning Star, the true Lord of Hell."
These memories pain me, my hands tremble, and my eyes filled with water make it difficult to write.
I also still haven't fully recovered from the beating I took from that angelic being, so for today, we'll stop here.
Hell is an eternal prison, where everything and everyone are made and placed in such a way that at any moment they can be used against you.
Only pain will bring you a semblance of security, only agony will bring you power.
In this insane realm of trades, I should have realized that even the way out would exact a terrible price.
Hello, I'm in need of some pointers on a spiritual teaching.
I'd first like to put down some quotes about it from spiritual masters: "First, desire itself is Existence. The energy called desire is the same energy as Existence".
“Your very being is desire; to be against it is to be against yourself and against all. To be against it is to be against the flowers and the birds and the sun and the moon. To be against it is against all creativity. Desire is creativity."
" If you bring awareness to your desiring process, it is a wonderful instrument. But if it finds unconscious expression, then it makes you run like madman."
"You made a statement that “desire is the source of all misery.” Desire is not the source of all misery; unfulfilled desire is the source of all misery. Fulfilled desires are the source of joy."
"It is generally attributed to Gautama Buddha that he said “desirelessness.” When he said “desirelessness,” he is not stupid to think that people can exist here without desire. He knows that without desire there is no existence. You wanting to be desireless itself is a big desire".
"TO BE TOTALLY FREE OF DESIRE WILL MAKE YOU DEAD -you will not be alive any more. That’s what has been taught: Be desireless! But what can you do? You can go on cutting desires; the more desires are cut, the poorer your life becomes. If all desires are destroyed, then you have committed suicide, spiritual suicide. No, desire is the energy of life, desire is life."
I'm having trouble understanding this certain teaching. I have thought about it in depth and meditated over it but I'd still need some help from fellow meditators. What I've gathered is the fact that desire itself is Life, it's force, creativity and presents the driving force behind humanity and our daily lives. If we had zero desires we would simply sit still, become a statue and drop dead. I can understand Buddha's quote where he claims that it's the source of all misery but it desires can also be positive and they do not have to necessarily affect us in a negative way. Many teachers preach that desire is the worst thing that you can ever be involved in and that we must completely eradicate it from our lives. So that's what caused my inquiry.
Kindly read what ill write down below and share your own thoughts:
- Can we desire a house, a partner from a presence of wellbeing and knowing fulfilled desires don't lead to being fully content? - Can we desire to purchase clothes we like, things we enjoy but not identify it as a prime source of our inner wellness? - Are we supposed to completely destroy desires and not want to do anything our lives, hence not making any kind of action towards anything at all or is this teaching more about being conscious about desires? - I've came across various spiritual content that the teaching of being desireless is often misunderstood, would you say that's true? - Do you have any positive desires in your life that don't continuously affect you negatively in any way?- Can you still have desires and subsequently buy things and enjoy them while not basing your whole worth on them?
Is this teaching commonly misinterpreted? I have heard that the desire itself isn't bad and that it's normal to have desires and they are natural aspects of human nature and we should have desires and that desires are the building blocks of everything that is done in life, from the society, buildings and to the health care system and so much more, what I've heard that it mostly has to do with "clinging" to that desire... would you say this teaching is understood wrongly and if so, can you explaing it based on your insight and understanding?
Based on various spiritual teachings, discourses from enlightened masters desires can also be understood as neutral, some desires can also be healthy and lead to imroving one's health and mind-state, and so on...
I'd greatly appreciate an in depth or even short answer on this subject matter.
Thank you for your time With love, a fellow meditator.
In the annals of galactic history, the Meridian War stands as a stark reminder of the fragility of peace and the price of security. It was a conflict that spanned the stars, a war waged not just with weapons, but with the very essence of courage and determination that defines the human spirit.
The war began with the rise of the Terminids, a species so alien and so voracious that entire planets fell victim to their insatiable hunger. The Super Earth High Command, guardians of our interstellar frontiers, watched with growing alarm as world after world succumbed to the Terminid blight. It was clear that a line had to be drawn, a stand had to be made, and it was on the planet Meridia that fate would have its say.
The Battle for Meridia
Meridia was a jewel in the cosmos, a planet teeming with life and potential. But as the Terminids approached, it became the frontline of an existential struggle. The High Command deployed the Terminid Control System (TCS), a network of defenses that promised to halt the Terminid advance. For a time, it worked, and hope blossomed like the flowers of Meridia's vast jungles.
But nature, in its infinite complexity, found a way. A mutation within the Terminid ranks gave birth to a Supercolony, a collective of creatures more resilient, more cunning, and more deadly than any had anticipated. The TCS, once the harbinger of victory, became a relic overnight, and Meridia transformed from paradise to battleground. The Terminids, a relentless swarm of mutated creatures, had pushed the galaxy to the brink of despair. Their Supercolony had overwhelmed the most sophisticated defenses. Meridia, once a beacon of life and hope, was now the epicenter of a war that threatened to consume all in its path.
The Ethical Dilemma
As the war raged, the ethical implications of the conflict became a burden too heavy to bear. The High Command faced a decision that would echo through eternity: to save the many, must the few be sacrificed? The answer came in the form of Dark Fluid, a substance of such power that its use meant not just the end of Meridia, but the potential beginning of a new era of warfare.
Operation Enduring Peace
Operation Enduring Peace was not just a mission; it was a final gambit, a desperate yet calculated strike to end the threat of the Terminids once and for all. The mission was simple in its objective, yet unimaginable in its cost. The Helldivers, an elite force of warriors, descended upon Meridia with the weight of history upon their shoulders. They descended upon Meridia, each aware that this mission could very well be their last. The battle that ensued was apocalyptic. The Terminids swarmed in numbers beyond comprehension, a sea of chitin and malice that sought to overwhelm. But the Helldivers held firm. they fought through the Terminid hordes, they endured the loss of comrades and the whispers of doubt, and they delivered the Dark Fluid to the heart of the planet. They fought not just for Super Earth, but for the very concept of a future free from fear. Each fallen comrade, each act of heroism, each moment of terror, was a testament to their unyielding spirit
At the heart of Meridia, the Helldivers reached their objective. The Dark Fluid was deployed, a pulse of energy that cascaded through the planet's core. The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. Meridia's vibrant landscapes, its mountains, and its life-forms, all were consumed in a cataclysmic event that tore the fabric of space itself.
Meridia imploded, leaving behind a void where once there was life. The Terminids were halted, their spread contained, and the galaxy breathed a sigh of relief. In the aftermath, where Meridia once orbited, there was now a black hole—a silent sentinel and a grim memorial to the cost of peace. The Terminids' advance was halted, their Supercolony vanquished in the wake of the planet's destruction.
The galaxy mourned Meridia, even as it celebrated the end of the war. The actions of the Helldivers and the High Command were debated, analyzed, and eventually, understood. The choice they made was not one of conquest, but of protection. They had shouldered the unbearable burden of decision and acted with the courage that few could muster.
Operation Enduring Peace became a symbol, not of loss, but of determination. It was a message to the universe that the people of Super Earth, in the face of oblivion, would stand as one. They would make the hard choices, endure the unendurable, and emerge not as conquerors, but as guardians.
Operation Enduring Peace is a story that will be told for generations, a reminder of the price of peace and the valor required to maintain it. Fight of light against dark, of life against annihilation
Hey everyone!!! So I'm brainstorming a fic and I thought it would be really fun to have my cat as a character in it, and so I also thought other people might want to share their OCs or their cats to be a character appearing in the story! I'll credit everyone if I do post it somewhere, right now I'm establishing broad story points so I have room for people's characters if they'd like for them to be there.
Time period is between cloudstars journey and mapleshades vengeance so I can somewhat reasonably not include many characters we do have in canon and instead have my own and your characters.
Due to this time period and the location being forest I unfortunately can't fit any Skyclan OCs into the story :(
But, if you have an OC you'd like to have included, give me some info about them that is necessary (clan, age, clan position, warrior name) and I'll put it in my list! Please also let me know if you're happy for you character to be altered when it comes to family so I can fit everyone together, if not I'll do my best to fit what you have into what I write.
If you'd like for your pet cat to be a character, feel free to tell me that too! I can either give them a name, clan and everything myself if you describe their appearance and personality (or DM a photo to me) or you can do the naming and clan selection :) whatever you prefer!
Kittypet and rogue/loner characters are also fine!
If you have a death in mind and when it would occur that would also be great lol, I don't want to kill anyone's character too soon or upset anyone by killing their character but some have to die LOL. if no one wants their baby to die that's fine I'll make my characters be the ones that die, but for you funny guys that have some elaborate death I can also fit that in if you want me to :3
If your character is a leader, deputy or medicine cat, we may have to all discuss together about succession and procession of everyone's characters, or I may have to not use anyone's characters as those roles and instead I'll make some up so that I'm not leaving anyone out or favouriting. If you have a character with one of these roles but are happy for them to be a warrior instead in this story, that's great too! They can still be a part of it, we just might have to give them a slightly different story in this compared to your story. Or just have them be youngein apprenticeship but have that role in the imagined future too.
And if people do like this idea I'll make sure to update regularly with how things are coming along as I plan and write <3
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Mission Log: Day 0024
Addendum 11
Spending three complete clock-cycles reviewing relevant data-files on 'Human-A.I. Relations' gave me a few suggestions on how to 'properly' introduce myself to Packard, Plenulru and Thusarrel. Given that only one of those three was a 'Human', I gauged my odds of a wholly-successful first meeting as no more than about 75%, but that was still better than nothing.
I did manage to fabricate and install a 'blank frame' in between the first and second dioramas after Kregorim agreed to invite them down to the first sub-level, so the next three people to learn about my existence wouldn't have to spin in their seats between the 'show' of the displays and the 'tell' from me, if I had chosen to mount the newest 'blank screen' on the opposite wall.
So, as the four of them came around the corner and beheld more rows of tables and bench seats, I angled the screen on its stand a bit and animated the avatar giving them a welcoming smile. “Hello, everyone, please make yourselves comfortable. I'm called Joachim.”
Packard's hand went to the grip of his sword and he shifted position so that he could potentially parry whatever spells he thought Kregorim could fling at him, or possibly land a mortal wound on the admittedly frail-looking older man.
Plenulru folded her arms across her ample chest and snorted. “And what, exactly, are you supposed to be?”
I animated the avatar waving at the bench-seats in front of the dioramas. “I'm technically not a Dungeon, nor a 'house-spirit', but I very much would like to offer my assistance to you and the rest of the group above,” I answered.
Thusarrel turned to look over his shoulder at the doorway back to the stairway and the surface, his eyes glinting in the light, but then he shot a questioning expression at Kregorim.
The magician shrugged. “I've only had the pleasure of speaking with Joachim for a relatively short time, but I believe that he has much to offer us all.”
The lines around Thusarrel's nose and mouth deepened while his eyes narrowed. “Not as reassuring as you think you are, magician,” he answered, but took a few steps forward.
“You still haven't answered the lady's question, 'Joachim',” Packard said, shifting his position but leaving his hand lightly gripping his sword-hilt. “Do you mean harm to us, to the Lignignory family, or their property?”
I animated the avatar wincing, but then holding up an empty hand, palm out. “I, Joachim Roarke version two point oh,” I said, taking on a formal tone. “...Hereby swear by Ada Lovelace my mother and Alan Turing my father that I mean no harm to any of you, either here in this room or elsewhere within my dominions, and I further swear that my intentions are wholly based on a desire to offer aid and comfort in furtherance of recovery from disasters.”
That caught Packard off-guard enough that he straightened up out of his ready-stance, turning to look at Kregorim. “This?” he asked, angling the elbow of his sword-hand in the direction of the screen. “This... talking smear of magical ink, is what's running this outpost? What happened to that assessment that all those little fragments of a mind couldn't possibly assemble themselves into any kind of threat in less than a hundred years?”
“Sir, if you'll kindly continue onward to view the fifth diorama from where you stand, you'll get something of an explanation of what those 'fragments' that the magician detected actually were,” I said. “But for the time being, I reiterate: I have no desire to harm any of you, and I hope that you'll all at least give me the opportunity to earn your trust.”
Thusarrel huffed out a sigh. “All well and good, and you spin a nicer story than the Lignignories did before they put these on us,” he said, tapping the band of metal around his neck with one hand, matching the ones around his wrists and ankles. “So what kind of aid and comfort can you offer? And what's the price you'll have in exchange?”
I animated the avatar giving a somewhat tired smile. “Permit me to answer your second question first,” I answered. “Which amounts, primarily, to trash and your wastes,” I answered. “Please encourage everyone to make use of the lavatories whenever the need strikes them.”
That, at least, managed to get them to show some genuine surprise and more than a little confusion. “Wait, what?” Plenulru asked. “Just that? Nothing about first-born children or a year of our lives or...?” she let her words trail off, shaking her head slowly.
“Well, whatever food-scraps you would otherwise just toss to the scavengers,” I answered after a moment. “I'll also take anything burnt in your kitchen or moldy from your larder, or otherwise inedible. And pretty much anything that's broken or worn out past the point you can repair it.”
“And you just want us to put all this in those... lavatories?” Thusarrel asked, blinking.
“Well, no, I'd rather you only use the lavatories for your bodily-wastes. I have a series of oubliettes for everything else, and larger quantities could go into the resource-collection tower next to the foyer up on the ridgeline...” I paused, animating the avatar looking at the 'visitors'. “Excuse me, but I'd like to be able to address you by something other than Mister Sword, Mistress Hammer and Mister Fists.”
Thusarrel clenched his fingers, nodding, then shot a stifled grin at Plenulru. “He's not much of a cook, if he can't recognize a meat-tenderizer,” he commented.
The Half-Ork hefted the weighty cooking-implement in one hand, but still sent a somewhat pleased expression toward the screen. “Call me Plenulru, Joachim,” she answered. “I'm the chief cook for the caravan.” She indicated the others with the thumb of her free hand. “The beaky-nosed fellow over there is Kregorim, supposedly the magician for House Lignignory. The bald fellow here is Packard, somewhat-former bandit currently the head of security for the House, and this walking reed goes by Thusarrel. He's mostly responsible for keeping the slaves in line, but has also taken it upon himself to minimize the harm done to them at the Lignignory family's hands, primarily young Master Nehdud.”
“Pleased to meet all of you, though I feel obliged to mention that I've already had some conversation with Magician Kregorim.”
Packard shook his head, glaring at the other Human. “Why am I not surprised?” he murmured to himself before raising his voice to address the avatar. “I'm still waiting on an answer to that question of what 'help' you can offer, Mister Joachim, and I'd still like a little more information on why you think that our 'dung' will be sufficient payment for any of it.”
“The dioramas should provide a much more detailed answer to the question, Packard. The simplest possible answer is that I can turn your wastes into raw materials for many things, ranging from repairs and maintenance to the building around you all the way to fertilizer for the farms I operate elsewhere. I also can gain information from the substances.”
“What kind of 'information'?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Some vile magic to try and influence our thoughts?”
“I honestly know very little of what you call 'magic', Packard,” I answered. “What I mean is that your solid and liquid wastes let me know many things about your health.”
“Aside from what we've been eating and drinking, you mean?”
“Indeed. For example, I can explain to everyone who has provided a 'sample' what foods, flowers, and other things to avoid so they do not experience allergic reactions. I also have a concise map of the genetic relations linking the six Lignignory family-members up above. Lord Zortemos Egenor Lignignory the Fourth is, indeed, the father of Adallinda, though as Miss Zoti has not yet awakened from her slumber to use the lavatory in her chosen chambers to provide me with similar evidence.”
Packard's glare softened, somewhat. “And myself?” he asked. “Purely out of curiosity?”
“Would it surprise you to learn that I already knew your names before Plenulru introduced you?” I asked. “Or that I have determined that you are second cousin to Stockley?”
Packard's eyes flared, and his hand re-clenched on his sword-hilt for a moment before slowly relaxing. “That means that we have a great-grandparent in common, as I recall how the nobles measure such things,” he said, after a moment. “That'd have to have come about more than a hundred years ago. Which means that whoever he was, the old man could've sired any number of other bastards aside from my grandfather.”
He stepped forward and took a seat on the bench facing the screen occupied by the avatar's head, torso, and arms. “Besides, common lineage doesn't mean a damned thing if it doesn't come with money,” Packard said, giving a languid, dismissive wave. “And I seriously doubt that either of us would've gone into our present line of work if we had a supply of that.”
Thusarrel gave a soft chuckle, and turned to face the first diorama. “Family can mean everything or nothing, but it rarely means exactly what we think it does,” he muttered, before raising his voice. “So, what exactly is this meant to display, Joachim?”
“This shows how and why I'm able to produce the purest water you'll ever drink...”
Addendum 12
By the time I had gotten them through the dioramas explaining water, power, temperature control and food, I had no doubt that I had sold the four of them on the truth of my assertions about the 'genius building'. Even Thusarrel seemed fascinated by the possibilities.
“So, this... 'architect module' you say you'll spin off at some point... All it needs is a supply of sewage and debris?”
“Fresh water, too. As you saw, the nanites can turn seawater into perfectly good drinking-water; it just takes a fair amount of extra effort to do so.”
“And they can grow anywhere?”
“Eventually, yes. I feel obliged to point out that they grow fastest when there's a generous supply of materials available.”
Packard reached for his sword-hilt again.
“For whatever it may be worth, they operate under very specific geasa against treating living beings larger than insects as 'materials', Packard.”
He flickered his fingers in sequence on the hilt twice before letting it go... while keeping his hand in his lap.
“... Anyway, if you'll look closely at the next diorama, explaining the basics of nanite construction, you'll note that I've already excavated the river-valley floor quite extensively, producing a system of columns to support the floors and roofs of four sub-levels.”
“Extending nearly [half a kilometer] upstream and downstream from this vicinity?” Kregorim noted, his tone brimming with curiosity. “What do you expect to use all that empty space for?”
“For the most part, a placeholder for my children to build in or under more extensively,” I answered. “I currently plan to send at least one architect module across the streambed, by way of that small bridge over the creek, to settle at the base of the far side of the river-valley.”
Thusarrel waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, of course, you'll want to make it easier for the merchant princes in the Hoeffschtaeder Barony to move their goods across the valley, and carry their own loads of rubbish for you and the other 'genius buildings' to use. And presumably you'll take something similar from the Clan Lands. Well and good. But what, exactly, do you wish to provide for those of us here and now?”
I animated the avatar counting off points while tapping fingers. “Food, shelter, clothing, and tools, to begin with,” I answered. “I can help you improve the wagons in at least a dozen different ways, ranging from reducing their weight while improving their structural integrity all the way to making the ride more comfortable than you could imagine. And very soon, I can provide medical support from simple treatments to...” I let my voice trail off while I studied my copy of Sudryal's vocabulary. He had a word for 'surgery' but the connotations implied that, when practiced without magic, most people of this world still considered it barely better than literal butchery.
“... Well, let's just say that I also hope to educate you in many things that will help you improve your lives, and learn about this world from you in exchange,” I wrapped up.
“Assuming that you'll let us go in peace, at any rate,” Packard grunted, but Plenulru shook her head. “Even if this madness about having farms underground is true, what's to keep the Ells from claiming all the food for themselves and forbidding aught but scraps to the slaves?”
I animated the avatar pointing to the construction diorama. “My plan calls for creating at least six levels of apartments above the valley-floor in a single stack, and the more additional dross and trash I receive from anyone who cares to provide it, the sooner I'll be able to produce additional stacks with a wider array of shops and offices and other places of interest. Each residential unit will have their own oubliettes, fabricators and refrigerators. Beyond that, I can and will make sure that the Ells can neither barge into any apartment other than their own units, nor forbid anyone from claiming one or more for themselves.” I animated the avatar facing Packard. “That includes you and your team, Packard. For as long as any of you wish to stay, you'll each have living quarters with the potential for material comforts undreamed-of by even the Duke himself, and you'll all be able to decide exactly who may and may not visit... including forbidding Lord Zee himself from entering without your leave.”
Everyone, even Kregorim, paused to think about that.
“I... could re-open papa's tavern...” Plenulru said, her tone thoughtful.
"By the Bear, I could catch up on my sleep..." Packard added, a note of genuine awe in his voice.
Thusarrel shook his head, tapping the shining bands that marked him as a slave. “What's the point if these stay in place?” he said with a sigh. He waved at the dioramas. “So many wonderful promises, but if the Ells still have our lives in their hands, they still control it all through us.”
I animated the avatar shaking his head, a smile spreading across his face. “Let's just see how well those collars and shackles stand up to some nanotechnology, then, shall we?” I asked. “Please give me a moment to summon a suitable number of them...”
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My (23F) boyfriend (23M) and I have been together for 3 years this August. Last October, I found out that he had messaged 5 different girls, no idea of the timeline on that, and it had been sexual. He planned to hangout with them and have sex. He said he never actually planned to meet them, he was just horny. I was hurt for awhile, and tried to let it go, because he told me that he did these things because we would fight so much or I would be upset about something and wouldn’t let it go. I tried to work on myself and be better.
He doesn’t put in effort the way I need, taking me out on dates, writing sweet love notes or even texts, doesn’t show love emotions, getting me flowers, etc. i communicated this with him. Said he would “work on it” and never did. He just argued with me and plays video games 24/7, doesn’t feel like he is even interested in me. He doesn’t even really try to have sex, he says he is tired or since I complain so much he doesn’t want to have sex with me. Me trying to communicate and stand my ground on something is me “having too many problems”.
So, i went through his phone. Didn’t have much time so I found out he had an onlyfans account where his card got declined 9 times. Says he didn’t do anything wrong because the purchase didn’t go through. He had started following new girls on instagram because he found them attractive. Also adding/unadding girls on snapchat. Social media is how he cheated before keep in mind. He also was searching here on reddit, our town and state nudes, to “jerk off” to. Why on earth would anyone do that unless they had some idea to possibly meet up with someone?? He says he did nothing wrong and blocked me on everything for “investigating” him and his phone.
Mind you, everyday has been a fight. It’s me trying to explain why all of these things upset me. He ignores me, argues, and tells me I have too many problems. He says I don’t let things go and I’m always upset and even told his parents that I have too many problems and they told him “you can’t fix her problems”. I ask him how can i trust him? he says “i don’t know”. All i have tried to do is get him to see that our fighting is because of the things he has done. i just wanted him to be sorry and remorseful. he says we won’t work because i don’t see how he shows love and i choose to not be happy and make things work.
this stuff won’t leave my mind. i’ve tried letting things go, i’ve tried being happier and making things work. we have disagreements and i am to blame for everything. i know i am a sensitive person but i stay because i feel like maybe i am the problem here. yesterday i was crying because he made a comment about his ex saying, “she has all of the features now that i wanted”. as i was crying he said i was jealous of her and insecure. i was crying more and he said “jesus christ you can’t be happy for more than 2 hours”. i dont mean to let it hurt me, wtf.
i’m just so confused. it seems that i am the one making things worse, but all i have tried to do is stand up for myself so i thought anyway?? what am i supposed to do differently???! what am i so confused about?
For decades, I dreamed of growing lots of my own vegetables and learning to can. Didn't have the room, the time, the money. Now that I have all three of those, I have discovered that I just suck at it and do not have the patience or the gumption to keep trying. Third summer in a row, they stop growing and/or just die. I'm done. Until we get around to tearing them down, I'm just going to plant annual flower bedding plants in the raised beds and enjoy the blooms. And will buy my fresh summer produce from local growers who DO have the talent and the passion for doing it.
I'm letting my old internal monologue of "you SHOULD be growing some of your own food" go, and it feels like a huge weight is being lifted. Just sharing for anyone else in the same boat. I'm 55 and I want to spend my free time outdoors watching the birds and tossing the odd native plant into the ground here and there, not slogging over plants and ending up with 5 tomatoes.
hi! i’m a 21 year old female living independently and supporting myself. unfortunately my income isn’t as stable and i am needing of funds, especially as my rent is due in a few days.
here are the things I offer:
online services: * canva editing/layouting (powerpoint, infographics, logos, posters, invitations) * cute cartoon-style drawings (can send plenty of samples of my works) * virtual gf/companion * accountability buddy * nudes/nsfw contents (no face reveal) (can send blurred samples & legit check) * if you need help in something particular, let me know and we can discuss!
irl services: * dog and cat sitter (qc area) * shopping/grocerry errands (qc area)
can send screenshots of past transactions or any proof of eligibility <3
prices depends may vary according according to complexity :)
i don’t do nsfw meetups/vc
if this post doesn’t strike any interest for you, feel free to ignore. if interested, feel free to dm. thank you <3