Monster high reproduction dolls
All things Monster High
2011.12.25 13:50 ag3nt_cha0s All things Monster High
Welcome to Monsterhighdolls for all things Monster High! Please feel free to post your dolls, art, repaints, and whatever fun media you find or create.
2011.07.28 22:08 kellypryde Be Yourself, Be Unique, Be a Monster <3
Welcome to the unofficial sub for everything Monster High related! Please enroll (Subscribe) to our creeperific School (Sub) for the best of fun! Please make sure to read the rules and have a look at our pinned post. If you need anything please Egore us Mods, have fun! <3
2009.09.25 06:54 kimonoboxjill Dolls
A subreddit dedicated to the hobby of collecting dolls. Posts on dolls, doll clothing, and doll accessories are welcome.
2023.06.01 07:26 -Rosewiththorns- People are ridiculous XD
 | I’m sorry but what the heck. submitted by -Rosewiththorns- to MonsterHigh [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 06:51 Medusa_De_Bruja Pedro Roles as Barbies vs Kens
 | Saw this lovely description on Instagram so felt like doing some alignments for the Pascal Cinematic Universe submitted by Medusa_De_Bruja to Pedro_Pascal [link] [comments] Barbies: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Oberyn Martell, Agent Whiskey, Javier Peña Kens: JAVI GUTIERREZ (ultimate baby girl), Dieter Bravo, Pedro Pascal himself (the og, the one and only), and I suspect Silva Frankie is both and therefore is a Bratz doll. Ezra is a Monster High doll. Max Lord doesn't get an alignment because he's just an evil cabbage patch doll. A Polly Pocket of Doom. What's your alignments? |
2023.06.01 06:50 General-Yam-948 New Player Nightmare
This story is about is about a new player that joined my homebrew campaign and tried to make me feel like an asshole for helping them out.
So, this is a homebrew world I had been running for many years with my friends from university, when Covid hit, the campaign moved online and stayed there as people moved back to their respective countries. I had run a couple of campaigns before this and was excited to run something new, but I needed to replace a few players as I did not get on with some of the previous ones, introducing Rogues (not the nightmare). He was a friend from overseas who I wanted to invite to my campaign after he tweeted that he was looking to join one. He wasn’t familiar with my friend group, so I suggested that he bring along someone he was close with. After a couple of tries with different people we add Paladin to the campaign.
I was told that they were new to DnD but had played one session prior to joining, this was fine, I had played with new players before. I directed the Paladin to resources about my homebrew world and asked if they would like to use an NPC in one of the sessions to see how they felt about the game, they told me they prefer to just watch and I was fine with that, eventually they ended up joining. The Rogue and I helped them make a character, I had a rule where I would allow players to reroll all their stats up to 3 times as long as they delete their previous set, Paladin came up with a set they were happy with, the only issues with it was one stat below 8, which they assigned to intelligence since that isn’t important for Paladins (this will be important later).
Paladin had this big expansive backstory that I asked them to fix since they were starting at level 3, and somehow they didn’t seem to understand that low level characters weren’t meant to be super powerful beings who had accomplished many great things, I gave the analogy that they were essentially a level 5 character in WoW, to which they claimed to have had never played that game before. This was a lie as they brought up playing it many times in the future. Another issue I ran into during character creation was finding out that they read none of the info I sent them about my homebrew world, as they went on to insert countries and lore from official modules into their backstory.
This probably isn’t the biggest issue anyone has ever ran into and its not friendship ending. At the time it simply annoyed me because I went through the effort of developing a world for my friends to play in and I felt that the least someone who was joining could do is read a little about the region they would be starting in.
It took me a while to figure out that Paladin didn’t really even know the basics about Dnd, or how to play a Paladin. I could chock this up to them just being a new player but at this point they had been playing with me for about 3 months. I don’t mind answering questions for a new player, but at some point a new player should stop being a new player and just start being a player. I don’t know if 3 months is too soon for that but I figured that most people would have read what their abilities do or having had looked up guides on how to play various classes. After suggesting to them to do this I was chewed out by them, stating that they had a very busy schedule and had no time in the week to look at a couple of tutorials. Even after 5 months they didn’t know the difference between a class and a subclass…
So, remember earlier how I said it would be important to note that he had dumped Intelligence? Well after a while he suddenly became unhappy with his low intelligence score, stating that based on his backstory, he should not be a stupid person. I had an in-group joke spanning back a bunch of campaigns where if anyone had less than 10 Int, they were essentially illiterate, seemingly the joke had come up in session in regards to the Paladin. He messaged me after the session saying that they were confused and thought I stated that they were meant to be smarter than the average person, I don’t recall ever making that statement especially since we once jokingly went through the monster manual to find beasts that were smarter than the paladin (there were a couple). This intelligence issue essentially led to our 1st fight.
Paladin didn’t realise that his character wasn’t the smartest based on their stats, but claimed that there is no way that should be true since they could speak 3 languages. In my opinion that might be more of an issue with the game than the character. After some back and forth, I explained that the intelligence score is essentially that character’s IQ. This led to the Paladin asking to reroll their stats. I don’t know if this is an issue for other DMs but the thought of someone rerolling their stats after 6 months of playing seemed ludicrous to me. The conversation went something like this:
Paladin: Would I be allowed to reroll my stats? Based on the fact that I wasn't aware that INT would be used this way?
Me: No
Paladin: I accepted the low int under false pretenses, though. I was told he'd be smarter than the average person
Me: not really, i am pretty sure i didnt say he would be smarter than the average person
Paladin: Its an oddly specific thing for me to remember
Me: you cant just reroll all ur stats because 1 is less than 10
Paladin: no Im asking to reroll them because if I had known a 6 basically means he as the same intelligence as an ape I'd have never accepted it
Me: i am certain i made the joke multiple times that he was barely smarter than most animals
Paladin: Yeah I thouht it was just a joke, not serious, that was never mentioned when we were actually choosing the stats. Like; I'm brand new to the game, I had no idea what that stat actually meant lmao
Me: i am sure ur asking this because ur new to dnd, but asking to reroll ur stats is completely unreasonable. rolling stats to begin with are randomised. with the point that they would be random and not predetermined. u already have pretty decent stats to begin with
Paladin: yeah but as someone who has no idea what the stats mean I was relying on you to tell me what they meant
Me: and i gave everyone the option to roll 3 times. and i told you the important stats for a paladin. being strength, constitution and charisma
Paladin: but you didnt tell me that a 6 int means he is functionally slow
Me: you were going to have to put the 6 somewhere. even if you didnt put it in intelligence. it would go somewhere else. and we would have the same conversation in a different scenario
After this we went on to talk about alternatives to rerolling stats, with Paladin being determined to increase his intelligence. He then claimed that I wasn’t being friendly by letting him make massive sudden changes to his character out of nowhere. I tried to explain that I have been treating him just how I treat all of the other players, with the addition of answering every question he has about the game, ever after half a year of him playing it. as he still wouldn’t budge on changing his Intelligence I tried explaining that they didn’t need a high score in every stat to play a good character, even citing a character in one of my previous campaigns (the scores for that character were: 20, 14, 15, 9, 5, 7). This argument went on for over an hour, eventually ending at 3am. I eventually compromised and let him reshuffle his stats around, while it still annoyed me, I figured it would have been better than him rerolling everything.
In any case, this was the 1st major grievance I had with Paladin, with others to follow as the months follow. Its something that has been bothering me for a while since I am not sure if I am just being an asshole to a new player or if I have been more than lenient with them, more info to follow…
submitted by General-Yam-948 to rpghorrorstories [link] [comments]
So, this is a homebrew world I had been running for many years with my friends from university, when Covid hit, the campaign moved online and stayed there as people moved back to their respective countries. I had run a couple of campaigns before this and was excited to run something new, but I needed to replace a few players as I did not get on with some of the previous ones, introducing Rogues (not the nightmare). He was a friend from overseas who I wanted to invite to my campaign after he tweeted that he was looking to join one. He wasn’t familiar with my friend group, so I suggested that he bring along someone he was close with. After a couple of tries with different people we add Paladin to the campaign.
I was told that they were new to DnD but had played one session prior to joining, this was fine, I had played with new players before. I directed the Paladin to resources about my homebrew world and asked if they would like to use an NPC in one of the sessions to see how they felt about the game, they told me they prefer to just watch and I was fine with that, eventually they ended up joining. The Rogue and I helped them make a character, I had a rule where I would allow players to reroll all their stats up to 3 times as long as they delete their previous set, Paladin came up with a set they were happy with, the only issues with it was one stat below 8, which they assigned to intelligence since that isn’t important for Paladins (this will be important later).
Paladin had this big expansive backstory that I asked them to fix since they were starting at level 3, and somehow they didn’t seem to understand that low level characters weren’t meant to be super powerful beings who had accomplished many great things, I gave the analogy that they were essentially a level 5 character in WoW, to which they claimed to have had never played that game before. This was a lie as they brought up playing it many times in the future. Another issue I ran into during character creation was finding out that they read none of the info I sent them about my homebrew world, as they went on to insert countries and lore from official modules into their backstory.
This probably isn’t the biggest issue anyone has ever ran into and its not friendship ending. At the time it simply annoyed me because I went through the effort of developing a world for my friends to play in and I felt that the least someone who was joining could do is read a little about the region they would be starting in.
It took me a while to figure out that Paladin didn’t really even know the basics about Dnd, or how to play a Paladin. I could chock this up to them just being a new player but at this point they had been playing with me for about 3 months. I don’t mind answering questions for a new player, but at some point a new player should stop being a new player and just start being a player. I don’t know if 3 months is too soon for that but I figured that most people would have read what their abilities do or having had looked up guides on how to play various classes. After suggesting to them to do this I was chewed out by them, stating that they had a very busy schedule and had no time in the week to look at a couple of tutorials. Even after 5 months they didn’t know the difference between a class and a subclass…
So, remember earlier how I said it would be important to note that he had dumped Intelligence? Well after a while he suddenly became unhappy with his low intelligence score, stating that based on his backstory, he should not be a stupid person. I had an in-group joke spanning back a bunch of campaigns where if anyone had less than 10 Int, they were essentially illiterate, seemingly the joke had come up in session in regards to the Paladin. He messaged me after the session saying that they were confused and thought I stated that they were meant to be smarter than the average person, I don’t recall ever making that statement especially since we once jokingly went through the monster manual to find beasts that were smarter than the paladin (there were a couple). This intelligence issue essentially led to our 1st fight.
Paladin didn’t realise that his character wasn’t the smartest based on their stats, but claimed that there is no way that should be true since they could speak 3 languages. In my opinion that might be more of an issue with the game than the character. After some back and forth, I explained that the intelligence score is essentially that character’s IQ. This led to the Paladin asking to reroll their stats. I don’t know if this is an issue for other DMs but the thought of someone rerolling their stats after 6 months of playing seemed ludicrous to me. The conversation went something like this:
Paladin: Would I be allowed to reroll my stats? Based on the fact that I wasn't aware that INT would be used this way?
Me: No
Paladin: I accepted the low int under false pretenses, though. I was told he'd be smarter than the average person
Me: not really, i am pretty sure i didnt say he would be smarter than the average person
Paladin: Its an oddly specific thing for me to remember
Me: you cant just reroll all ur stats because 1 is less than 10
Paladin: no Im asking to reroll them because if I had known a 6 basically means he as the same intelligence as an ape I'd have never accepted it
Me: i am certain i made the joke multiple times that he was barely smarter than most animals
Paladin: Yeah I thouht it was just a joke, not serious, that was never mentioned when we were actually choosing the stats. Like; I'm brand new to the game, I had no idea what that stat actually meant lmao
Me: i am sure ur asking this because ur new to dnd, but asking to reroll ur stats is completely unreasonable. rolling stats to begin with are randomised. with the point that they would be random and not predetermined. u already have pretty decent stats to begin with
Paladin: yeah but as someone who has no idea what the stats mean I was relying on you to tell me what they meant
Me: and i gave everyone the option to roll 3 times. and i told you the important stats for a paladin. being strength, constitution and charisma
Paladin: but you didnt tell me that a 6 int means he is functionally slow
Me: you were going to have to put the 6 somewhere. even if you didnt put it in intelligence. it would go somewhere else. and we would have the same conversation in a different scenario
After this we went on to talk about alternatives to rerolling stats, with Paladin being determined to increase his intelligence. He then claimed that I wasn’t being friendly by letting him make massive sudden changes to his character out of nowhere. I tried to explain that I have been treating him just how I treat all of the other players, with the addition of answering every question he has about the game, ever after half a year of him playing it. as he still wouldn’t budge on changing his Intelligence I tried explaining that they didn’t need a high score in every stat to play a good character, even citing a character in one of my previous campaigns (the scores for that character were: 20, 14, 15, 9, 5, 7). This argument went on for over an hour, eventually ending at 3am. I eventually compromised and let him reshuffle his stats around, while it still annoyed me, I figured it would have been better than him rerolling everything.
In any case, this was the 1st major grievance I had with Paladin, with others to follow as the months follow. Its something that has been bothering me for a while since I am not sure if I am just being an asshole to a new player or if I have been more than lenient with them, more info to follow…
2023.06.01 06:48 BodytreeStudioAUH For those of you looking to address stress without medicating
Stress is a common occurrence that affects everyone at some point, whether due to relationship struggles, work-related difficulties, or the loss of a loved one. While most people do not take it seriously until it becomes overwhelming, there is a point where it becomes too much.
When symptoms like frequent headaches, chest pain or tension, digestive issues, muscle tension or cramps, high blood pressure and heart rate, reproductive issues, and chronic fatigue occur, it may indicate that stress levels are too high. These symptoms can be misdiagnosed for other illnesses by doctors as they only look at the body chemically instead of holistically, and hence treat only the symptoms. Chronic stress can result in an increased risk of heart-related issues, suppression of immune function, and even cancer in some cases.
Taking care of your nervous system is crucial in reducing stress and building resilience. Here are a few simple, natural, holistic ways.
Read More: https://www.bodytreestudio.com/how-to-address-stress-without-medicating/
submitted by BodytreeStudioAUH to abudhabi [link] [comments]
When symptoms like frequent headaches, chest pain or tension, digestive issues, muscle tension or cramps, high blood pressure and heart rate, reproductive issues, and chronic fatigue occur, it may indicate that stress levels are too high. These symptoms can be misdiagnosed for other illnesses by doctors as they only look at the body chemically instead of holistically, and hence treat only the symptoms. Chronic stress can result in an increased risk of heart-related issues, suppression of immune function, and even cancer in some cases.
Taking care of your nervous system is crucial in reducing stress and building resilience. Here are a few simple, natural, holistic ways.
Read More: https://www.bodytreestudio.com/how-to-address-stress-without-medicating/
2023.06.01 06:43 TodayOk_99 I just lost my girlfriend of 3 years.. she was the one
Hi fellas, I’m a little late in the game of realization that for decades now (im 34) I’ve been unknowingly suffering from this addiction. I had NO IDEA how this has been psychologically damaging my brain and preventing me from reaching my full potential as my best self. I DIDN’T KNOW.
I thought I had it under control. I thought I had a right to my own private thoughts.
The more I think back and reflect… I can trace my story back to the very early ages of my youth (about 12 years old).
It started with my imagination… Then printing black and white pictures… (I was there for the birth of the internet) Then came Kazaa and illegal torrent movie downloads… Then the rise of Tube-sites and high speed internet…. Eventually transitioned from vanilla lesbian porn to more hardcore stuff… Gangbangs, bukake’s, rape fantasy’s, barely legal teenagers, and beastiality… Before i knew it, there were times when I was questioning my own sexuality simply bc the usual stuff simply “didnt do it for me anymore.”…
Every time, I needed more…. My brain kept telling me “MORE”. Only the extreme SHOCKING fantasies could get me hard anymore. Trans porn, gay porn, Ive fapped to it ALL.
Whats worse is that I didn’t know how much this was affecting my day2day life (outside of the fap-zone).
Fast forward a few failed relationships and throw in a few heartbreaks along the way…. After my 3rd heartbreak, I spent over 7 years single… feeding the beast. The monster that can never get enough. The bottomless black hole of Fap and no amount of jizz could ever fill it. No amount could be enough to satisfy my cravings, which kept exponentially growing and growing.
I was living the bachelor’s life filled w casual sexual flings, one night stands, and friends w benefits. Going to massage parlors and gambling at various prostitution websites. and there was nothing I could think of that would make me want to change it.
I thought I was happy. I had accepted my fate as a single man, and had no problems with it…
Then I met her…. She was different… She made me want to change.. I broke my own rule and fell for her.
She moved in…. A year later, We moved out together and upgraded from a small apartment to renting a house…. We adopted a dog… We averaged sex about 2x daily for 3 fucking years of living together… I had EVERYTHING I could ever want…
I just lost the best relationship I have ever been in, all because of THIS bullshit addiction… Bc i simply couldn’t let it go… I hate myself. I hate what I have become. She will NEVER forgive me. I have shattered her self-esteem and self-confidence. I HURT HER EMOTIONALLY AND CAUSED HER TRAUMA FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG… ALL because I couldn’t get enough… I NEEDED more. Or so my brain kept telling me. The LAST thing i wanted to ever do was to hurt this person… i swore to myself i would keep her safe and protect her… she was the one. But i couldn’t protect her from myself and my addictions (which i didn’t even realize at the time).
I’ve started seeing therapy now…. I’ve started reading “Your Brain On Porn - by Gary Wilson”… Chapter 1 recommended this Reddit community, and here I am….
Most fucked up thing is that it was my youngest brother, who had brought all of this addiction awareness to my attention, and only because he had recently gone through this exact same intervention that ruined his last relationship. Im reading HIS copy of YBOP. My younger brother, giving ME advice. It should be the other way around.
I HATE myself, that I was not there for him in the time that he needed me. I openly made fun of him and mocked him that he couldn’t control his porn habits. I joked and discouraged him from thinking that NoFap and cold showers was the solution.
I stand before you all now. Ashamed… and guilty….
I’ve hit rock bottom…
But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Everything we have done to ourselves is absolutely reversible. I just have to commit. Harder than anything ive ever tried to do..
We can do this. But I’ll need your help….
Im here to support… I’m here to be supported….
If my younger brother is reading this, you know who you are, and I’m so grateful that you showed me the way. I fucking love you little brother…
Im moving back home now with you and Mom and Dad, at least until I can get my feet back together.
One step at a time…. My chin is up…
Im starting today… Day #1
Here goes nothing..
submitted by TodayOk_99 to NoFap [link] [comments]
I thought I had it under control. I thought I had a right to my own private thoughts.
The more I think back and reflect… I can trace my story back to the very early ages of my youth (about 12 years old).
It started with my imagination… Then printing black and white pictures… (I was there for the birth of the internet) Then came Kazaa and illegal torrent movie downloads… Then the rise of Tube-sites and high speed internet…. Eventually transitioned from vanilla lesbian porn to more hardcore stuff… Gangbangs, bukake’s, rape fantasy’s, barely legal teenagers, and beastiality… Before i knew it, there were times when I was questioning my own sexuality simply bc the usual stuff simply “didnt do it for me anymore.”…
Every time, I needed more…. My brain kept telling me “MORE”. Only the extreme SHOCKING fantasies could get me hard anymore. Trans porn, gay porn, Ive fapped to it ALL.
Whats worse is that I didn’t know how much this was affecting my day2day life (outside of the fap-zone).
Fast forward a few failed relationships and throw in a few heartbreaks along the way…. After my 3rd heartbreak, I spent over 7 years single… feeding the beast. The monster that can never get enough. The bottomless black hole of Fap and no amount of jizz could ever fill it. No amount could be enough to satisfy my cravings, which kept exponentially growing and growing.
I was living the bachelor’s life filled w casual sexual flings, one night stands, and friends w benefits. Going to massage parlors and gambling at various prostitution websites. and there was nothing I could think of that would make me want to change it.
I thought I was happy. I had accepted my fate as a single man, and had no problems with it…
Then I met her…. She was different… She made me want to change.. I broke my own rule and fell for her.
She moved in…. A year later, We moved out together and upgraded from a small apartment to renting a house…. We adopted a dog… We averaged sex about 2x daily for 3 fucking years of living together… I had EVERYTHING I could ever want…
I just lost the best relationship I have ever been in, all because of THIS bullshit addiction… Bc i simply couldn’t let it go… I hate myself. I hate what I have become. She will NEVER forgive me. I have shattered her self-esteem and self-confidence. I HURT HER EMOTIONALLY AND CAUSED HER TRAUMA FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG… ALL because I couldn’t get enough… I NEEDED more. Or so my brain kept telling me. The LAST thing i wanted to ever do was to hurt this person… i swore to myself i would keep her safe and protect her… she was the one. But i couldn’t protect her from myself and my addictions (which i didn’t even realize at the time).
I’ve started seeing therapy now…. I’ve started reading “Your Brain On Porn - by Gary Wilson”… Chapter 1 recommended this Reddit community, and here I am….
Most fucked up thing is that it was my youngest brother, who had brought all of this addiction awareness to my attention, and only because he had recently gone through this exact same intervention that ruined his last relationship. Im reading HIS copy of YBOP. My younger brother, giving ME advice. It should be the other way around.
I HATE myself, that I was not there for him in the time that he needed me. I openly made fun of him and mocked him that he couldn’t control his porn habits. I joked and discouraged him from thinking that NoFap and cold showers was the solution.
I stand before you all now. Ashamed… and guilty….
I’ve hit rock bottom…
But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Everything we have done to ourselves is absolutely reversible. I just have to commit. Harder than anything ive ever tried to do..
We can do this. But I’ll need your help….
Im here to support… I’m here to be supported….
If my younger brother is reading this, you know who you are, and I’m so grateful that you showed me the way. I fucking love you little brother…
Im moving back home now with you and Mom and Dad, at least until I can get my feet back together.
One step at a time…. My chin is up…
Im starting today… Day #1
Here goes nothing..
2023.06.01 06:43 EfficientChoice4415 What was your fav scooby doo movie
 | submitted by EfficientChoice4415 to nostalgia [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 06:42 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
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2023.06.01 06:37 Alpha_Delta310 Hollyhock Manheim-Mannheim-Guerrero-Robinson-Zilberschlag-Hsung-Fonzerelli-McQuack-Doll
 | Im finally done!! Just finished gluing on her hair and im so excited i decided to post her now. This doll was a super tough process especially sculpting that face, but it was worth it. Hope you guys enjoy this one! (Last pic is doll parts used, monster high head with rainbow high body) submitted by Alpha_Delta310 to BoJackHorseman [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 06:37 EfficientChoice4415 Which is yall fav
 | submitted by EfficientChoice4415 to Scoobydoo [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 06:16 CompelledfromLurking Darkmoon in the DeepChapter 2: A Pact
Agila landed hard. She had dug her heels into the loose gravel of the ravine as much as she could during her descent, but it was a long way down. Didn't hear a snap, she thought. Good sign. She stood up and looked out into the darkness of the Green sea. The trees at this level of the forest were no taller than those outside this cursed place, but the bark at their bases was coated in a strange turquoise moss. In between and among other plants she did not recognize, ferns danced and wobbled in a peculiar fashion. Just like..
"Sea weed," Feraz said, landing dexterously beside her. "I worked on a skimmer airship for a time, harvesting it from above the canopy. Healers pay well for it." Agila blinked. The man was only slightly taller than she was, salt peppering his short beard and shoulder length brown hair.
"What did they use it for?" she asked.
"Never got the chance to ask," he replied, kneeling down and stripping a thin piece of bark from a sapling to tie back his hair. That's a good idea, Agila thought, and did the same. Her hair was longer than his, and a bright fiery red. A shot rang out above them, and another body tumbled to the forest floor. Feraz scanned his hazel eyes over the forest in front of them and continued.
"Whole airship crew got nicked in transport," he said, sighing. "We all knew the risk." He must have been desperate, Agila thought. Harvesting from the Green Sea without the blessing of the crown was treason. She was no stranger to desperation, and she knew the advantage of numbers in situations like these.
"Agila," she said, holding out her hand. Feraz broke his stare on the forest and looked over at her hand, a smile creeping up on the corner of his mouth. "I know who you are, Darkmoon," he replied, then reached out and clasped her hand. "Feraz. I take it this means you're open to a partnership?" His smile remained, but Agila could sense something barely masked in his expression. His hand began to shake before he withdrew it. He's terrified.
"We have a better chance together," she said. "Terms?"
Feraz tried and failed to contain the relief in his sigh. He flinched as another shot rang out above them, followed by the sickening thud as the body of the final prisoner hit the bottom of the ravine. Seven prisoners. Feraz and Agila alone had been brave enough to face the forest.
Or foolish enough not to choose the bullet.
"We keep our hands to ourselves," Feraz started, listing his first term to their partnership. "Except in cases of medical distress, of course," he added.
"Agreed," Agila said, nodding and feeling more than her fair share of relief. It wasn't that Feraz was ugly; he was clearly strong, and his high cheeks and square jaw were visible beneath his beard. He was, however, probably twice her age. She was happy to have one less monster to worry about in the depths.
"We stay within earshot of each other," Agila said, listing her first term. "Getting separated would probably get us both killed." Feraz nodded, returning his eyes to continue surveying their surroundings. "Agreed," he said. There was a moment of silence.
"Anything else?" Agila asked. Feraz met her eyes, uncertainty peeking out from behind his mask of stoicism.
"We share resources, and keep no secrets," he said, hesitantly. Agila winced. "No relevant secrets," she countered. "If it pertains to our shared survival in even a remote sense," she said, reaching her hand out again to seal their contract. "I can agree to that." Feraz stared at her for a moment in contemplation, then reached out and shook her hand.
"With the prowess as my witness I vow to uphold these terms," he said. Agila had heard the phrase only once before, but luckily remembered the appropriate response.
"With the prowess as my witness, I vow the same."
submitted by CompelledfromLurking to JPsTales [link] [comments]
"Sea weed," Feraz said, landing dexterously beside her. "I worked on a skimmer airship for a time, harvesting it from above the canopy. Healers pay well for it." Agila blinked. The man was only slightly taller than she was, salt peppering his short beard and shoulder length brown hair.
"What did they use it for?" she asked.
"Never got the chance to ask," he replied, kneeling down and stripping a thin piece of bark from a sapling to tie back his hair. That's a good idea, Agila thought, and did the same. Her hair was longer than his, and a bright fiery red. A shot rang out above them, and another body tumbled to the forest floor. Feraz scanned his hazel eyes over the forest in front of them and continued.
"Whole airship crew got nicked in transport," he said, sighing. "We all knew the risk." He must have been desperate, Agila thought. Harvesting from the Green Sea without the blessing of the crown was treason. She was no stranger to desperation, and she knew the advantage of numbers in situations like these.
"Agila," she said, holding out her hand. Feraz broke his stare on the forest and looked over at her hand, a smile creeping up on the corner of his mouth. "I know who you are, Darkmoon," he replied, then reached out and clasped her hand. "Feraz. I take it this means you're open to a partnership?" His smile remained, but Agila could sense something barely masked in his expression. His hand began to shake before he withdrew it. He's terrified.
"We have a better chance together," she said. "Terms?"
Feraz tried and failed to contain the relief in his sigh. He flinched as another shot rang out above them, followed by the sickening thud as the body of the final prisoner hit the bottom of the ravine. Seven prisoners. Feraz and Agila alone had been brave enough to face the forest.
Or foolish enough not to choose the bullet.
"We keep our hands to ourselves," Feraz started, listing his first term to their partnership. "Except in cases of medical distress, of course," he added.
"Agreed," Agila said, nodding and feeling more than her fair share of relief. It wasn't that Feraz was ugly; he was clearly strong, and his high cheeks and square jaw were visible beneath his beard. He was, however, probably twice her age. She was happy to have one less monster to worry about in the depths.
"We stay within earshot of each other," Agila said, listing her first term. "Getting separated would probably get us both killed." Feraz nodded, returning his eyes to continue surveying their surroundings. "Agreed," he said. There was a moment of silence.
"Anything else?" Agila asked. Feraz met her eyes, uncertainty peeking out from behind his mask of stoicism.
"We share resources, and keep no secrets," he said, hesitantly. Agila winced. "No relevant secrets," she countered. "If it pertains to our shared survival in even a remote sense," she said, reaching her hand out again to seal their contract. "I can agree to that." Feraz stared at her for a moment in contemplation, then reached out and shook her hand.
"With the prowess as my witness I vow to uphold these terms," he said. Agila had heard the phrase only once before, but luckily remembered the appropriate response.
"With the prowess as my witness, I vow the same."
2023.06.01 06:11 Ed_Derick_ Thoughts on KOTM after my rewatch for the movie's anniversary
Sorry but it's a mess of a movie. When I watched it in theater it was one of my best experiences ever, but the more I watched it at home the more flaws and things to get upset about I found. I'll start with the stupid "MCU humor". Characters cracking jokes in the worst moments possible, and it's always dad jokes/jokes that don't land. It's obnoxious. How hard it is to just keep it serious and not have every single character be a bad stand-up comedian? Since I'm on this topic I would like to say, the character "Sam" could have easily been cut from the movie. Why? Because he only serves two purposes: Exposition, and comedic relief. And he ends up being a bit annoying. Even the movie is self-aware about this because of that scene where Mark says "Does anyone else know where it is" , just so he can find a excuse to not be around Sam. Mark represents the audience in that scene. We just don't wanna see this guy on screen anymore because he's just so annoying and pointless.
During that scene at Mark's house, I always try to imagine what it would go like without Sam. And guess what, nothing changes. They could just have Graham and Serizawa deliver the exposition needed to push the plot and with a bonus of not having any jokes. Anyway, moving on.
Second thing is some weird one-liners, that feel more like the Godzilla-obsessed Director speaking, rather than the characters. Here's the most prominent examples:
- "Mothra. Queen of the Monsters."
That's just the director talking. Why? Because at no point in the movie we get a explanation as to why Mothra is "The Queen of the Monsters." It's just a throw away line. "Ackchually they call her that in the ARG". Yeah but movies should be made for all audiences to enjoy and understand, not just the redditor nerds who follow every single ARG. Doctor Chen calling Mothra "Queen of the Monsters" is more like Michael Dougherty informing us what he wants his version of Mothra to be. The problem is, he doesn't "display" Mothra as the queen of the monsters. All she does in the movie is show up, make a cocoon, show the protagonists where godzilla is, fight rodan for like 10 seconds, then sacrifice herself so Godzilla can get a power up. How does that make her "Queen of the Monsters" ? At least movie's title, King Of the Monsters, has a payoff, because Ghidorah becomes the "King" by controlling the titans, then Godzilla becomes the King at the end after he kills Ghidorah and the titans literally bow to him like humans would to a King.
Mothra has none of that, so there's no point in making a line calling her Queen, that's just Michael fanboying over his own character.
- "That makes sense we are a bunch of horny murderous carnivores."
What? How the hell would the titans know that? I just hate this plot point about the missing ORCA frequency being humans. It makes no sense. Why would the Titans, these 300 feet + beings, think that we, little ants, are Apex predators? And again this line it's just Michael talking, it's just him being preachy and probably thinking he's super big brain for saying "Humanity bad". My guy you released this movie 1 year after Infinity War. The idea of killing human population to help the environment is still fresh in the audience's mind. You are not breaking new ground here.
Moving on. I think everyone agrees right now Emma Russell is just an awful character. She's just completely delusional, her redemption arc doesn't hit because you remember she's the reason millions died around the world. It takes her sooo much time to realize "Hey maybe this is a bad idea". Also gotta love her logic:
"My son died to a titan. So i'll unleash every titan monarch has ever discovered so I can save the world. Yes, this is definitely what my son would want, millions of families going through the pain of loosing a loved one to a giant monster"
She's just causing San Francisco over and over again in the name of the greater good. And the movie is self-aware about this and doesn't do anything, it shows characters pointing out how she is crazy but she never realizes it herself. Also it's so weird how she just team ups with Jonah off-screen. Even after reading Aftershock it doesn't make sense. So this guy shows up, kills a bunch of her colleagues, and the scene cuts with her looking at the guy in terror and protecting her daughter. When we cut back to her how is she? Just working along the guy who just killed her colleagues. Why? Because humanity bad. It feels like there's scenes missing. Showing her being tricked by Jonah or something similar, because it's so weird how she just teams up with him.
Also the movie implies she has been planning this since 2014? Building the orca, indoctrinating Madison into going along with her genocidal plan, if Jonah didn't showed up, she would probably eventually do it on her own, she would become the eco-terrorist. So at this point, why not just have Jonah be the sole antagonist? Have him being a monarch member who was affected by the events of 2014, have him create the orca, and have him going around freeing titans. It's so weird.
Let's talk about the monsters a little bit. Godzilla is way too "Tohosized". He's got the classic plates, the classic roar mashed together with the 2014 roar. I already said in my post about GareGoji, Michael Dougherty didn't wanted "The Monsterverse Godzilla" , he just wanted to pull Toho's Godzilla into the monsterverse. Jesus why can't you just let Godzilla be different, let this Godzilla be his own thing? We had something new and unique in 2014 but then Michael had to come along and go "Nuh huh can't have that, we only have old stuff."
Rodan is a punching bag. That's it.
Mothra is a power up and a light show, that's it.
At least Ghidorah is fine. Feels world-ending. Feels like he could actually win this. Feels new. It's good to see him controlling stuff and not being a pawn for once.
Something I think the movie lacked was some build up for the main kaiju tho. Mothra is shoved right in your face at the first 5 minutes. Ghidorah has a little bit of build up and some suspense, and Rodan is the worst in the whole movie, because he has no build up, no foreshadowing. Emma and Jonah just choose him just because. It makes him feel no different than any other titan. It's like... they could have awaken Behemoth, Tiamat, Abbadon, Leviathan, any of them first, nothing would change. I wish there was some build up, like a scene with Jonah and Emma discussing which titan they wanna awake next, and they choose Rodan because he's the strongest one after Ghidorah (not counting Godzilla because he's already "awake") and because of that he would cause the most trouble for Monarch.
It's clear this was done as a "counter-measure" against the 2014 criticism, about the MUTOs taking 40 minutes to show up, while Godzilla takes like one hour, but at least it had a payoff. This is what people don't get. It was about building suspense, mystery, tease, then finally payoff. KOTM just goes straight for the payoff, it's like skipping straight to the dessert. Movie just wants to rush through everything as fast as possible because it is afraid people will dislike it if they tease the kaiju.
Another thing I hate about the kaiju is this stupid "good radiation" and "planet healing" thing which is just so vague and thrown away, might as well call it magic. It happens because Emma said it happens, no evidence needed. "Life is triggered by their radiation". Radiation is supposed to kill life. Do they produce a new type of radiation that does the opposite? We don't know, movie doesn't bother explaining it. Not to mention the radiation being inconsistent. One time we can approach "radioactive monsters" with no problem. But then other times we gotta use hazmat suits. We can't approach this highly radioactive temple, but we can approach Godzilla who was inside that temple, took a nuke to the face, and is about to turn into a nuke himself. Yeah that's completely safe and completely different situation. And then there's the fact this goes completely against Godzilla's reason for existing, as a warning about nuclear power and radiation.
A nuke saves the day, and radioactive abominations humanity and nature and animals. All of this happened in a movie featuring a character that only exists thanks to the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. Let that sink in.
Off topic comment: I hate how Graham's death doesn't affect Serizawa. He saw his colleague, no, his student, who he was mentoring for who knows how many years, being eaten alive by a three-headed dragon. And what he does? Falls to his knees, not a single tear. Then looks at her photo for 5 seconds, still no tears. That's it. That's all the impact Graham's death brings to the movie. This is just Michael not knowing what to do with her character. This is the first rewatch where it occurred to me: "Man... Serizawa should be wanting to kill Emma." Because Graham's death was her fault. He should be wanting to kill her for revenge. Yet he's barely antagonistic about her. "We will ask her. When we find her. For now, the search continues." WHAT? That's it? That's all you have to say about the person responsible for your loved one's death? He doesn't even mention Graham when he's about to sacrifice himself. Movie just forgets about it.
Alan Jonah is just boring. He is a little threatening at first but then calms down and leaves the script. He just "aight imma head out". "We got everything we need" What the hell you talking about? Where was it established he and his team were after something? He just leaves the plot for no reason, it's like the writers decided "Yeah sorry no idea what to do with him in the 3rd act, let's just put him aside but keep him alive so we can make a credits scene."
There's so many little things I wanna talk about it but I think this post is getting a bit too long, so i'll just list them without making a full paragraph about it:
- All the super saturated colors and filters hurt my eyes. Please make it stop. Screen is always all red, all blue, all green, all dark. Contrast and lighting are all over the place.
- Who decided to make a fortune cookie joke after Serizawa's amazing speech to Mark? Why ruin the moment, why not just have him stop talking and Mark act like "Damn he's right" and keep the scene moving?
- SHOW ANDREW'S DEATH YOU COWARDS! Kidding, but still. Movie would have a lot more emotional weight if they showed Mark and Emma finding Andrew's lifeless body. If i was making the movie I would add flashback scenes showing that, when Mark is knocked by Ghidorah, and show it at the start of the movie as well, then make the moment they are looking for Madison "mirror" Andrew's scene, also add some lines to make Emma's and Mark's reactions during that scene feel more genuine, like "Please God not again..." that would be a lot better
- Why the stupid cutaways, why do you feel the need of showing Madison going to her house... opening the door... going inside... closing the door, laying down... WHEN YOU JUST ESTABLISHED SHE'S IN THE HOUSE?! Just cut from Emma and Mark saying "Home", to Madison already inside, covering her ears while the house shakes, then quickly cut back to the fight.
- Sorry but Mothra vs Rodan was complete BS and she only won because plot. Rodan should have shredded her the second they collided. Either make their fight fair or have them team up with Goji
- Thanks for wasting Burning Godzilla and turning him into a Deus Ex Machina and a Power Up. Godzilla took a fire flower from Mario.
- Gotta love them creating 17 new titans then show them through tiny tv screens. Also they wasted what should have been the Endgame of the MV, all titans trying to take over the world.
You already know my only positives about the movie: soundtrack and sound design. One or two cool cinematography moments.
submitted by Ed_Derick_ to Monsterverse [link] [comments]
During that scene at Mark's house, I always try to imagine what it would go like without Sam. And guess what, nothing changes. They could just have Graham and Serizawa deliver the exposition needed to push the plot and with a bonus of not having any jokes. Anyway, moving on.
Second thing is some weird one-liners, that feel more like the Godzilla-obsessed Director speaking, rather than the characters. Here's the most prominent examples:
- "Mothra. Queen of the Monsters."
That's just the director talking. Why? Because at no point in the movie we get a explanation as to why Mothra is "The Queen of the Monsters." It's just a throw away line. "Ackchually they call her that in the ARG". Yeah but movies should be made for all audiences to enjoy and understand, not just the redditor nerds who follow every single ARG. Doctor Chen calling Mothra "Queen of the Monsters" is more like Michael Dougherty informing us what he wants his version of Mothra to be. The problem is, he doesn't "display" Mothra as the queen of the monsters. All she does in the movie is show up, make a cocoon, show the protagonists where godzilla is, fight rodan for like 10 seconds, then sacrifice herself so Godzilla can get a power up. How does that make her "Queen of the Monsters" ? At least movie's title, King Of the Monsters, has a payoff, because Ghidorah becomes the "King" by controlling the titans, then Godzilla becomes the King at the end after he kills Ghidorah and the titans literally bow to him like humans would to a King.
Mothra has none of that, so there's no point in making a line calling her Queen, that's just Michael fanboying over his own character.
- "That makes sense we are a bunch of horny murderous carnivores."
What? How the hell would the titans know that? I just hate this plot point about the missing ORCA frequency being humans. It makes no sense. Why would the Titans, these 300 feet + beings, think that we, little ants, are Apex predators? And again this line it's just Michael talking, it's just him being preachy and probably thinking he's super big brain for saying "Humanity bad". My guy you released this movie 1 year after Infinity War. The idea of killing human population to help the environment is still fresh in the audience's mind. You are not breaking new ground here.
Moving on. I think everyone agrees right now Emma Russell is just an awful character. She's just completely delusional, her redemption arc doesn't hit because you remember she's the reason millions died around the world. It takes her sooo much time to realize "Hey maybe this is a bad idea". Also gotta love her logic:
"My son died to a titan. So i'll unleash every titan monarch has ever discovered so I can save the world. Yes, this is definitely what my son would want, millions of families going through the pain of loosing a loved one to a giant monster"
She's just causing San Francisco over and over again in the name of the greater good. And the movie is self-aware about this and doesn't do anything, it shows characters pointing out how she is crazy but she never realizes it herself. Also it's so weird how she just team ups with Jonah off-screen. Even after reading Aftershock it doesn't make sense. So this guy shows up, kills a bunch of her colleagues, and the scene cuts with her looking at the guy in terror and protecting her daughter. When we cut back to her how is she? Just working along the guy who just killed her colleagues. Why? Because humanity bad. It feels like there's scenes missing. Showing her being tricked by Jonah or something similar, because it's so weird how she just teams up with him.
Also the movie implies she has been planning this since 2014? Building the orca, indoctrinating Madison into going along with her genocidal plan, if Jonah didn't showed up, she would probably eventually do it on her own, she would become the eco-terrorist. So at this point, why not just have Jonah be the sole antagonist? Have him being a monarch member who was affected by the events of 2014, have him create the orca, and have him going around freeing titans. It's so weird.
Let's talk about the monsters a little bit. Godzilla is way too "Tohosized". He's got the classic plates, the classic roar mashed together with the 2014 roar. I already said in my post about GareGoji, Michael Dougherty didn't wanted "The Monsterverse Godzilla" , he just wanted to pull Toho's Godzilla into the monsterverse. Jesus why can't you just let Godzilla be different, let this Godzilla be his own thing? We had something new and unique in 2014 but then Michael had to come along and go "Nuh huh can't have that, we only have old stuff."
Rodan is a punching bag. That's it.
Mothra is a power up and a light show, that's it.
At least Ghidorah is fine. Feels world-ending. Feels like he could actually win this. Feels new. It's good to see him controlling stuff and not being a pawn for once.
Something I think the movie lacked was some build up for the main kaiju tho. Mothra is shoved right in your face at the first 5 minutes. Ghidorah has a little bit of build up and some suspense, and Rodan is the worst in the whole movie, because he has no build up, no foreshadowing. Emma and Jonah just choose him just because. It makes him feel no different than any other titan. It's like... they could have awaken Behemoth, Tiamat, Abbadon, Leviathan, any of them first, nothing would change. I wish there was some build up, like a scene with Jonah and Emma discussing which titan they wanna awake next, and they choose Rodan because he's the strongest one after Ghidorah (not counting Godzilla because he's already "awake") and because of that he would cause the most trouble for Monarch.
It's clear this was done as a "counter-measure" against the 2014 criticism, about the MUTOs taking 40 minutes to show up, while Godzilla takes like one hour, but at least it had a payoff. This is what people don't get. It was about building suspense, mystery, tease, then finally payoff. KOTM just goes straight for the payoff, it's like skipping straight to the dessert. Movie just wants to rush through everything as fast as possible because it is afraid people will dislike it if they tease the kaiju.
Another thing I hate about the kaiju is this stupid "good radiation" and "planet healing" thing which is just so vague and thrown away, might as well call it magic. It happens because Emma said it happens, no evidence needed. "Life is triggered by their radiation". Radiation is supposed to kill life. Do they produce a new type of radiation that does the opposite? We don't know, movie doesn't bother explaining it. Not to mention the radiation being inconsistent. One time we can approach "radioactive monsters" with no problem. But then other times we gotta use hazmat suits. We can't approach this highly radioactive temple, but we can approach Godzilla who was inside that temple, took a nuke to the face, and is about to turn into a nuke himself. Yeah that's completely safe and completely different situation. And then there's the fact this goes completely against Godzilla's reason for existing, as a warning about nuclear power and radiation.
A nuke saves the day, and radioactive abominations humanity and nature and animals. All of this happened in a movie featuring a character that only exists thanks to the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. Let that sink in.
Off topic comment: I hate how Graham's death doesn't affect Serizawa. He saw his colleague, no, his student, who he was mentoring for who knows how many years, being eaten alive by a three-headed dragon. And what he does? Falls to his knees, not a single tear. Then looks at her photo for 5 seconds, still no tears. That's it. That's all the impact Graham's death brings to the movie. This is just Michael not knowing what to do with her character. This is the first rewatch where it occurred to me: "Man... Serizawa should be wanting to kill Emma." Because Graham's death was her fault. He should be wanting to kill her for revenge. Yet he's barely antagonistic about her. "We will ask her. When we find her. For now, the search continues." WHAT? That's it? That's all you have to say about the person responsible for your loved one's death? He doesn't even mention Graham when he's about to sacrifice himself. Movie just forgets about it.
Alan Jonah is just boring. He is a little threatening at first but then calms down and leaves the script. He just "aight imma head out". "We got everything we need" What the hell you talking about? Where was it established he and his team were after something? He just leaves the plot for no reason, it's like the writers decided "Yeah sorry no idea what to do with him in the 3rd act, let's just put him aside but keep him alive so we can make a credits scene."
There's so many little things I wanna talk about it but I think this post is getting a bit too long, so i'll just list them without making a full paragraph about it:
- All the super saturated colors and filters hurt my eyes. Please make it stop. Screen is always all red, all blue, all green, all dark. Contrast and lighting are all over the place.
- Who decided to make a fortune cookie joke after Serizawa's amazing speech to Mark? Why ruin the moment, why not just have him stop talking and Mark act like "Damn he's right" and keep the scene moving?
- SHOW ANDREW'S DEATH YOU COWARDS! Kidding, but still. Movie would have a lot more emotional weight if they showed Mark and Emma finding Andrew's lifeless body. If i was making the movie I would add flashback scenes showing that, when Mark is knocked by Ghidorah, and show it at the start of the movie as well, then make the moment they are looking for Madison "mirror" Andrew's scene, also add some lines to make Emma's and Mark's reactions during that scene feel more genuine, like "Please God not again..." that would be a lot better
- Why the stupid cutaways, why do you feel the need of showing Madison going to her house... opening the door... going inside... closing the door, laying down... WHEN YOU JUST ESTABLISHED SHE'S IN THE HOUSE?! Just cut from Emma and Mark saying "Home", to Madison already inside, covering her ears while the house shakes, then quickly cut back to the fight.
- Sorry but Mothra vs Rodan was complete BS and she only won because plot. Rodan should have shredded her the second they collided. Either make their fight fair or have them team up with Goji
- Thanks for wasting Burning Godzilla and turning him into a Deus Ex Machina and a Power Up. Godzilla took a fire flower from Mario.
- Gotta love them creating 17 new titans then show them through tiny tv screens. Also they wasted what should have been the Endgame of the MV, all titans trying to take over the world.
You already know my only positives about the movie: soundtrack and sound design. One or two cool cinematography moments.
2023.06.01 05:56 morelsupporter Watching Succession In Reverse
hi everyone i'm knew here to the sub. i just found out about succession on sunday at the whole foods self serve food section where i heard two people talking about it. one of them was short and the other had no idea what the other was talking about but was acting interested. they were both wearing turtlenecks so i assumed they had good taste in television shows
boy was i wrong.
i obviously couldn't watch the whole series in 45 minutes (or could i?) so i am planning on watching it in reverse chronological order.
you can try to spoil it if you want, but i think this story is written so simply that i have it all figured out. the only questions i have is about alexander skarsgaard. does this story take place before he moves to malibu and domestically abuses ActoLawyer Nicole Kidman or is it after that chick from Legally Blonde pushes him down the stairs? if the latter, i assume he faked his death (classic HBO trope and tie in).
the reason why he wants to have sek with shyohban is because she's a red head, like his malibu wife, except she's fat and stupid so he finds that more attractive.
also kevin mcallister's brother, is he Mattsons son (he's beat up?).
i assume there will be a Jerry Springer episode where we find out who the father is and if in fact Ken Doll is the eldest boy. is he truly #1?
for those of you who have never watched a tv series in reverse order, highly recommended!
oh and for those wondering, i got the steamed kale!
submitted by morelsupporter to okbuddysuccession [link] [comments]
boy was i wrong.
i obviously couldn't watch the whole series in 45 minutes (or could i?) so i am planning on watching it in reverse chronological order.
you can try to spoil it if you want, but i think this story is written so simply that i have it all figured out. the only questions i have is about alexander skarsgaard. does this story take place before he moves to malibu and domestically abuses ActoLawyer Nicole Kidman or is it after that chick from Legally Blonde pushes him down the stairs? if the latter, i assume he faked his death (classic HBO trope and tie in).
the reason why he wants to have sek with shyohban is because she's a red head, like his malibu wife, except she's fat and stupid so he finds that more attractive.
also kevin mcallister's brother, is he Mattsons son (he's beat up?).
i assume there will be a Jerry Springer episode where we find out who the father is and if in fact Ken Doll is the eldest boy. is he truly #1?
for those of you who have never watched a tv series in reverse order, highly recommended!
oh and for those wondering, i got the steamed kale!
2023.06.01 05:45 Bitter-Ad6965 I hate what I've become story time.
Long story but yeah.. I (30 M) got into a bad car accident in 2020. After the accident I seen everything I built up in 3 years just disappear. Started drinking heavily, using drugs, and just skipped town to somewhere healthier than where I was. Pretty shortly after I got a call for a new high paying job and moved back to California.. lost the job 8 months in. Most money I've ever made in my life and I spent most of it on booze. That was early 2021. Got back into an old forestry job, got a dui, roommate kicked me out due to a disagreement, slept on a couch for a couple months, new roommates, they kicked me out while high on meth. Still had my job but lost that early spring 2022. Moved in with my uncle and his gf. Started working in town at a bar and few other places, basically anything would work anything I could. Had some bad news about a trip I had planned for my kids, took my car over a ridge trying to end it. Put myself in the ward and back on meds. Lied to myself I was getting better. Night of my birthday I treated my grandparents to an amazing evening because I love them deeply. Next night I got too drunk at my bar and became a monster. Sent home with a fellow I knew for about a year. He drugged me and tried to take advantage of me. I made it out safe but was so out of it I could make it to the hospital a few blocks away and police took me to jail. Was passed out in jail for about 48 hours and they still didn't help me. Get out and get a toxicology done. Meth, pcp, heroin, and roofies were in my system. I was spun put on meth for the first time in my life. Uncle kicked me out. Took a week at my grandparents, then went up to Washington at a Christian sober living. Unfortunately they wouldn't allow me to work, and I have two children in Ecuador so it didn't feel right for me to stay there. I hitch hiked thru Washington and Oregon, finally got to a ladies house that help me when I was 18 and she took me in. Got a job logging, hated the isolation of the work and started drinking a lot again.. now it's 2023. I left to Arizona Grand canyon. Hoping to get a weird niche dream job of mine. I'd say the alcohol ruined it for me but it was all me at the end of the day. Present day I'm in Texas about a month now. Staying with a good friend and his wife. Memorial weekend we went out more east and I got drunk again, in a safe environment and idk what happened to my head, probably hit it while blacked out, but I realized I needed a change. I got 25 cents in my bank, job I was waiting for since I've been in Texas won't hire me for another year due to my dui, I've had insomnia all my life but this last week I've been having terrible night terrors. Last night I had at least 3 or 4. Depression all my life too, maybe asbergers or something else idk. Financially in debt, irs, But I've been sober 3 days now. No cigarettes for 2 days. If I don't get better I'm going to die this year and I can't let that happen. I won't let it happen. I know healing is lonely and I'm ready for that. I just had to let it all out somewhere there. I'm tired of who I've been, and don't even know who I am at this point in my life but I'm not giving up. I can't. Theres a lot of inbetween in my story but thanks for hearing me out.
submitted by Bitter-Ad6965 to mentalhealth [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 05:44 Sinfulys first MH doll ever🤭
 | my first ever monster high doll arrived in the mail today! (cleo g3), i've been wanting one ever since i was little so unboxing her was truly something special, im super excited to finally start my collection🫶 submitted by Sinfulys to MonsterHigh [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 05:42 Guilty_Chemistry9337 Hide Behind the Cypress Tree, pt. 2
They didn’t tell us the name of the next kid that disappeared. They didn’t tell us another kid had disappeared at all. We could all tell by the silence what had happened. It spoke volumes. I’m sure they talked about it in great detail amongst themselves. In PTA meetings and City Councils. My parents made sure to turn off the TV at 5 o’clock before the news came on, at least in my home. They’d turn it back on for the 11 o’clock news, when were were in bed and couldn’t hear the details.
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.
submitted by Guilty_Chemistry9337 to EBDavis [link] [comments]
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.
2023.06.01 05:34 RealXilverXoul Best system to use?
I am trying to find the best system I can use for a story idea and am hoping to get some input.
My story takes place in a story that could basically classed as steampunk. Victorian style architecture, ateam powered cars/airships, and pseudo futuristic machinery. Surrounding these towns are desert wastelands and high sea levels.
The players are a group of "hunters" who work for a secret organization tadked with thr goal of chasing down and slaying horrifying monsters that hide in the nighttime shadows and devour humans. The hunters work out of small hidden bases spread out throughout the cities that act as places to gather information, find allies, and stock up on supplies to hunt their quarries.
The players will largely be fighting monsters far strong than then in urban areas, but might also find themselves in burried desert ruins or airship battles.
Any suggestions you might have would be greatly appreciated! Of course, I would be happy to expound on any details if you need any clarification.
submitted by RealXilverXoul to tabletop [link] [comments]
My story takes place in a story that could basically classed as steampunk. Victorian style architecture, ateam powered cars/airships, and pseudo futuristic machinery. Surrounding these towns are desert wastelands and high sea levels.
The players are a group of "hunters" who work for a secret organization tadked with thr goal of chasing down and slaying horrifying monsters that hide in the nighttime shadows and devour humans. The hunters work out of small hidden bases spread out throughout the cities that act as places to gather information, find allies, and stock up on supplies to hunt their quarries.
The players will largely be fighting monsters far strong than then in urban areas, but might also find themselves in burried desert ruins or airship battles.
Any suggestions you might have would be greatly appreciated! Of course, I would be happy to expound on any details if you need any clarification.
2023.06.01 05:23 howdudo Tears of my kingdom 10/10
The newest Nintendo video game I can't stop playing it! I've been playing for hours and hours, and I'm still not bored. It's the most fun I've had in a long time. But it's so addictive! I can't stop playing it! I'm starting to neglect my other responsibilities. I'm not sleeping, I'm not eating, I'm not even going to the bathroom! All I do is play the game. I know I should stop, but I can't. It's like I'm possessed. I'm addicted to the game. I need it. I need it more than I need air or water. The game is my precious. And I will never let it go. But it's so scary! The monsters are so big and they're always coming after me. I'm always afraid that I'm going to die. But I can't stop playing. I have to keep going. I have to find the end. The game is my precious. And I will never let it go. But it's so angry! I'm always so angry when I play. I'm always yelling and screaming and hitting things. I'm so full of rage. I can't control it. The game is my precious. And I will never let it go. But it's making me crazy! I'm starting to see things. I'm starting to hear things. I'm starting to believe things that aren't real. I'm losing my mind. The game is my precious. And I will never let it go. I highly recommend this game to anyone who wants to lose their mind. It's the most addictive game ever made. You won't be able to stop playing. You'll be so angry and so scared and so crazy. But you'll never be able to let it go.
submitted by howdudo to copypasta [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 05:17 LoveMangaBuddy Read Ultra Alter - Chapter 84 - MangaPuma
“Awaken a New Self”. Lee Oh Reum is a high schooler who plays as a “Healer Shuttle” character in the kinesthetic VR MMORPG game . One day, his sub character “Avenger” that he was secretly raising becomes the best. Will Lee Oh Reum be able to overcome all dangers like constantly appearing monsters and various quests to become his new self? An authentic action altermodern drama fantasy. ... Read Ultra Alter - Chapter 84 - MangaPuma. Read more at https://mangapuma.com/ultra-altechapter-84
submitted by LoveMangaBuddy to lovemanga [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 05:16 LoveMangaBuddy Read Ultra Alter - Chapter 84 - MangaPuma
“Awaken a New Self”. Lee Oh Reum is a high schooler who plays as a “Healer Shuttle” character in the kinesthetic VR MMORPG game . One day, his sub character “Avenger” that he was secretly raising becomes the best. Will Lee Oh Reum be able to overcome all dangers like constantly appearing monsters and various quests to become his new self? An authentic action altermodern drama fantasy. ... Read Ultra Alter - Chapter 84 - MangaPuma. Read more at https://mangapuma.com/ultra-altechapter-84
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2023.06.01 05:13 copaceticalli this illness is so exhausting
i know i’m high strung. people don’t need to remind me. yet, they feel the need to. i live in constant fear of history repeating and i worry that i just come off as a crazy bitch with a short fuse to everyone in my life. i don’t want to be like this. i am trying so hard not to be like this.
i feel like a monster for being so angry all the time. i feel like a control freak. i feel like everything’s always on the verge of collapsing. i feel like a scared little child hiding under the bed all the time. i want so desperately to be anybody else.
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i feel like a monster for being so angry all the time. i feel like a control freak. i feel like everything’s always on the verge of collapsing. i feel like a scared little child hiding under the bed all the time. i want so desperately to be anybody else.
2023.06.01 05:06 howmanyjrbaconchz Any Octomore Sightings?
Went to Islay last month and came back a peat monster. I’m particularly interested in 8.3 and willing to pay a high premium. Any sightings in the wild of anything older than 13 recently? Thanks for your help!
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2023.06.01 04:53 daintyxrose Weed, beer, caffeine does nothing to me
I take: Buspirone 10mg Bupropion 300mg Parazosin 3mg Aripiprazole 30mg
Just recently my wife wanted to try weed together, it was a hybrid strain. She felt the effects but did nothing to me :( and I took 5 puffs while she just did one puff.
When I’m drinking with the family everybody gets tipsy so fast meanwhile I’m 4 soju bottles in and nothing.
As for caffeine; see I work from 330am-1255pm and I have a hard time waking Up. I’ve tried monster, c4, Red Bull, coffee, etc but nothing works.
My question is am I the only one that because of the medication I feel nothing?
Granted the medication has helped me a lot with my depression and anxiety but still… I always feel… left out… im not saying I wish to get drunk or get high everyday just once in a while u know?
submitted by daintyxrose to antidepressants [link] [comments]
Just recently my wife wanted to try weed together, it was a hybrid strain. She felt the effects but did nothing to me :( and I took 5 puffs while she just did one puff.
When I’m drinking with the family everybody gets tipsy so fast meanwhile I’m 4 soju bottles in and nothing.
As for caffeine; see I work from 330am-1255pm and I have a hard time waking Up. I’ve tried monster, c4, Red Bull, coffee, etc but nothing works.
My question is am I the only one that because of the medication I feel nothing?
Granted the medication has helped me a lot with my depression and anxiety but still… I always feel… left out… im not saying I wish to get drunk or get high everyday just once in a while u know?