Sleepy town escapades

Mod Sleepy Town

2018.07.26 05:19 Champagne_Sound Mod Sleepy Town

A subreddit with very strict rules and regulations. Posts must relate directly to the theme of the week. However, if the mods don’t catch you within an hour, your post stays up.

2013.03.18 04:35 omegaaf Manotick

Sleepy little town in Ottawa

2018.04.24 19:10 Theraghty The subreddit of New Fairfield

The Officially Unofficial subreddit of a sleepy town

2023.05.29 05:17 kalebsantos Respect Griffin, The Invisible Man (The Invisible Man)

Griffin, was a thirty year old scientist who has created a device capable of turning things, both living and nonliving, invisible. After using it on a cat, he turns the device on himself to escape his landlord. He then visits the small town of Iping in disguise. The intoxicating power of ambiguity quickly takes control of him as he begins to commit horrid acts and using his invisibility to escape. However he is eventually confronted by his old friend, Kemp who tries to stop Griffin’s selfish and evil escapades.
Full Text




submitted by kalebsantos to Kalebsantos [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 17:51 yeti1911 I live in a beautiful small sleepy town that has so much potential. They’re trying to figure out to to revitalize the downtown area. The answer is so obvious it’s painful.

I live across town from downtown. It’s a 14 minute bike ride downtown from my house. Probably a 9 minute drive with traffic and lights. Anyone in this town is not further than a 20 minute bike ride from our beautiful downtown.
Downtown is dying and no one knows why.
There is literally 2 three lane one way roads that run parallel to each other that completely separates the residential housing from downtown. No access for walkers/cyclists to cross the road safely. None.
Summer of 2021 they shut down Main Street and allowed tables, live music, open atmosphere, and the whole downtown became revived. Laughter, smiles, business was booming, people were happy.
Guess what? There wasn’t any fucking cars on those 2 streets so people could actually cross it safely from their neighborhoods.
Now we’re back to normal. They closed Main Street, but people aren’t coming like 2021. They’re trying to hard to figure out the issue on why they can’t replicate it.
It’s the fucking roads. It’s always been the fucking roads.
submitted by yeti1911 to fuckcars [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 17:18 Cultural_Memory000 What do you think of my magic system?

What do you think of my magic system?
I created a magic system for one of my anthology comics stories that I think would go well with it, plus that particular story I plan to make it a standalone series of my anthology comics series.
In itself, magic in that world is basically a psychic ability that uses supernatural means to make changes in reality, but being a psychic ability it is subject to the health and state of the human brain, as well as to the state and mental health.
It's basically a muscle: the more you have it, the stronger it is, but if you lift too much weight you're going to get injured, but in this case you'll have a stroke, mental illness and things like that. You have to remember that even stress can give you cancer.
It is very dangerous to practice magic if you are drugged, if you are sleepy, if you have mental problems, etc., in addition to trying something that is outside your current limits or contacting supernatural entities, since it will not only screw up your life, but also to many more. Just imagine Scarlet Witch or Carrie making her messes though you have to put magic powers on Carrie when she destroyed almost the whole town on prom night plus she died from using too many of her powers so it matches my system of magic.
In itself, although this magic system has limitations, it is a soft magic system, since there are no limits to how powerful it can be.
I did it this way since I can base myself on the human brain and what is known in mental health to put limitations and consequences on magic, make it more realistic and incidentally not so broken.
Babies when they are in the mother's womb cannot do very powerful magic since their magical muscle is not developed, babies and very young people have that muscle underdeveloped. That muscle begins to develop more intensely at puberty and is considered fully developed after 14 years of age. The more you train that magical muscle, the stronger it will be.
In the case of earthly humans, yes. The magic muscle weakens with age, as it is a natural biological prevention means to prevent people with senile dementia and other degenerative diseases of the brain due to old age from creating disasters. The muscle begins to weaken at high speed after the age of 50. Earth humans have magic since the year 2000 when babies with that ability were born, so no Earth magical humans have reached old age yet as not enough time has passed.
The muscle is not physical but at the same time it is, since part of its strength derives from the supernatural, from the brain's ability to use the supernatural to make changes in reality. The physical part of the muscle is the brain, more specifically an area of the brain developed for this purpose that is located in the frontal lobe and that extends in a series of neuronal ramifications throughout the brain. That part of the brain is called the arcane lobe.
By using this muscle, the heart rate increases and blood pressure rises, breathing becomes more intense, all this so that the brain has more oxygen, so that it has more energy to use magic, that leads to mental fatigue and physically from using a lot of magic constantly and without rest, since part of the body's nutrients will be consumed and the brain will be more stressed and tired from so much mental activity. It is recommended to replace the spent nutrients by eating nutritious food, resting, relaxing and sleeping.
Arcane lobe is a hereditary mutation.
Schools and colleges vary, most high schools and colleges have integrated compulsory courses to learn how to use magic correctly, there are specialized schools and colleges for that and other more professional ones. For the careers that need magic in a professional, specialized, constant or simply more face-to-face way, you should go to the most professional schools and faculties. In itself, learning to use magic correctly in specialized basic classes for that is mandatory to minimize the risks of that power.
Magic is very much incorporated into the world. It is very incorporated in Eden, which is a world connected to ours, and in our world it has been very incorporated since the year 2000 when the parallel world of Eden introduced that magical mutation to our world. Magic plays a fundamental role in the modern world, since the people who can use magic are 29% of the population, so there will be some people in the office who can turn on the light with magic, and there are specialized jobs that require magic. magical professionals. Magic and technology merged to create magical technology, so most things have magic built into them, and technological advances have come a long way since then.
Magic can manipulate reality itself but it depends on how strong the magical muscle of the person in question is, most are only capable of telekinesis, slight manipulation of matter, telepathy, creating illusions, some dreams that predict the future in a way unclear, slight precognition, remarkable intuition, and certain slight alterations in reality, such as the probabilities of events or alterations to the laws of physics such as reverse gravity, and use spells, incantations, etc., to do larger tasks. Others, however, can greatly alter reality at the city or even continent level with just their will, the most powerful can alter reality at a planetary level, although all help each other with spells to carry out larger tasks since spells are a way of channeling the mind to alter reality in a more powerful, stable and precise way (depending on the person with this ability and the spell in question as there are complicated spells that less prepared people are not ready to perform and it will end very badly ((in fact, using magic recklessly always ends incredibly badly)).
Magic can be done while asleep and is called involuntary magic, although this is a disorder that affects the arcane lobe, since the magical muscle is usually partially at rest during sleep and is only capable of performing precognitive dreams, warning you of a danger, telepathy that sometimes generates shared dreams, and so on.
submitted by Cultural_Memory000 to worldbuilding [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 10:43 Proletlariet Xena - Gabrielle

Gabrielle, the Battling Bard of Potidaea

"I'm not really good at anything except… talking"
Bio: A farm girl with dreams of becoming a bard, Gabrielle's life was irrevocably changed when she was kidnapped by slavers and saved by Xena the Warrior Princess, a notorious warlord infamous for her brutality and ruthlessness. Xena, having just committed herself to fighting for the greater good, took Gabrielle, who longed for adventure outside of her sleepy town, with her on her travels. The pair formed a close romantic bond, pushing each other to grow as they traveled the land righting wrongs.
Fighting Style: Earlier in her travels with Xena, Gabrielle usually attempts to use her wits and charm to avoid fighting or make her foes fight each other. If that fails, she uses her battle staff to defend herself. After training with Xena and the Amazons, Gabrielle isn't hesitant to use her staff straight away, though she refuses to kill. Following her crucifixion, she takes up sai and is willing to kill foes if they pose a threat.
Hover over the feat for the source.








Intelligence/Bard Skill

Quick Thinking
Silver Tongue
Bard Skill

Combat Skill

Pressure Points
vs Groups
vs Single Foes

Misc Skill


Standard Gear


While in India, Gabrielle how to apply the sacred skin paint Mehndi that imbued her and Xena with magic powers


submitted by Proletlariet to u/Proletlariet [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 09:36 Cosmic_Colin Seaside towns in England?

My mother in law is coming from abroad to stay with us for a couple of months in June-July and my wife has asked if I can arrange a trip for our whole family.
We live in Hertfordshire and have a small baby so we'd like to keep the journey time down, so that probably limits us to the South and East coast of England.
We've looked into Brighton before and that looks good, although a little pricey. We may go there for a day trip or as part of a bigger trip.
Other than that most seaside towns seem quite run down and a lot worse than when I was a child in the 90s. Are there any other genuinely nice seaside towns/cities left?
Also not looking for anything too small/rural e.g. a nice beach with 4 or 5 shops. My wife and her mum are kind of foodie people who enjoy seeing restaurants, cafés etc. so I don't think they'd enjoy a sleepy seaside village.
submitted by Cosmic_Colin to AskUK [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 08:04 Travelcat67 Why does the murder rate in Midsomer rival a major city?

I love this show so much, but it’s like Cabot Cove in ‘Murder she Wrote’!! How does a small sleepy British country side town with maybe 30,000 residents total have such a high murder rate? Is there something in the tap water? Especially considering most episodes have multiple murders; we are literally talking about the serial killer capital of the world!!
Don’t find yourself in Midsomer after dark! You might get got!!
What episode made you simultaneously say “what?? That’s ridiculous and crazy!!! But I love it!!”
submitted by Travelcat67 to MidsomerMurders [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 06:55 psyopticnerve Nothing Grows Here [Part 1}

"Nothing ever grows here."
This was a sentiment my father expressed often, referring to a particular plot on the east side of our property, murmuring the words bitterly. No matter what crops he planted there, no matter the attention he gave them, they would either wither and die or grow in a sickly, twisted fashion.
When I was young I watched him work the land and brought him food and water as the sun beat down upon us, dreading the day that he often told me would come- the day I was old enough to toil alongside him.
My interests were books, knowledge, the arts. Things they taught at school, and the more interesting topics I could learn about from Thomas, our neighbor who lived a mile down the road from us. Though he was several grades above me, Thomas was always kind, treating me as one would a younger sibling and entertaining my curiosities. It was from him that I found myself immersed in works of fiction and fantasy, things that my father would glance at and grimace.
"These things aren't meant for people like us, Leroy. No, we weren't dealt a hand to indulge ourselves in the luxury of idle pleasures for men who do not work with their hands."
He never said these things with a tone of anger or resentment, but rather in a measured way, meant to let me understand that he would derive no pleasure in keeping me from my interests or from walking to the school in a few short months. No, he said these things regretfully, wearily. He too, had once dreamed of a life away from his family's struggling farm. The only of his three siblings to survive adolescence, he chose to stay and aid my grandfather after my grandmother passed and he began succumbing to the bottle.
While my father never gave in to such vices, seeing him grow stiffer and harder of breath each day, I knew that I soon would assume the role he had once played for his father. And so I clung to my remaining days of freedom with a feverish fervor.

"...and it's entirely made of ice?" I asked, insistent and intrusive at Thomas's side.
"No, it's a continent covered by and surrounded by ice…" he replied distractedly, keeping his eyes on his book as we walked, "The, uh, Vikings found it I think… maybe the Spaniards. It's interesting though, no one owns Antarctica… Besides maybe the penguins."
"The Spanish find everything.”
“Mm. The Nazis went there too. My father told me.”
“Does he ever talk about the war?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from the page. His father, Sheriff Russell, patrolled Mt.Harmon with an efficiency that could only have been instilled by combat. Nothing ever happened in our sleepy little town, and he often seemed disappointed by this.
“Does yours?” Thomas replied.
“No. Mostly worries about the Russians these days. ”
“You’d think we’d be tired of war by now, wouldn’t you? And yet we continue to find new and horrifying ways to kill one another. Seems if we invent the weapons we’ll invent a reason to point them at someone.”
“Why do we keep making them then?”
“It’s profitable.”
There was a long pause between us. I decided to change the subject.
"What are you reading?"
"Frankenstein, or; The Modern Prometheus. It's by a woman named Mary Shelley. Gruesome throughout, it's about a monster created by a man who becomes a monster himself… You'd like it, I think. You can borrow it when I'm finished."
“How does one become a monster?”
“Inwardly. You’ll see when you read it. Conversely, the monster begins to appear more human.”
I pondered the meaning of what he had said and we neared a bend in the road. Thomas suddenly stopped in his tracks and dropped Frankenstein to his side. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinting at something through thick coniferous branches. I followed his gaze, finding nothing.
"Do you see that?"
"No…" I whispered. I followed his finger until I was able to see the camouflaged Great Horned Owl roosting there. Its sharp eyes were trained on us.
“How bizarre,” Thomas remarked.
“Not really. That’s one of the most common species of owl in this region.”
“It’s not bizarre that it’s here. It’s bizarre that it’s awake in daylight and that there are so many in one place.”
Taken aback, I realized the forest we were staring into was staring right back at us. Dozens of these owls were scattered throughout the trees.
“Incredible… Enjoy this moment, Leroy. We’ll never see anything like this again.”
We lingered for a while, soaking it in. After a silent agreement was reached that we had appreciated them sufficiently we turned away and journeyed on.

“You’re getting better with that,” I noted, watching my father adjust the radio’s dial to his favorite station. He often asked me to tune it for him.
“There is a part of me that still dislikes it greatly. Yet I find myself compelled. It doesn’t do us well to be uninformed.”
The broadcast spoke of the weather. The next week was to be warm, uncharacteristically so for this time of year. To this he grunted, “Figures.”
“How does that figure?”
“Maybe it doesn’t. But it gives me something to blame. Might as well be the weather.”
“And what do you blame on the weather?”
“Whatever you want. It’s the perfect scapegoat.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Let the cat out.”
I journeyed to the porch with the orange creature weaving itself between my feet. It wasn’t our cat, but it was here often enough for us to feel responsible for it. We weren’t sure who it belonged to, if anyone. It scampered out into the night, where a thick fog had settled over the grass. I listened to the chirping of crickets mingle with the muffled chatter of the radio while settling into a creaking rocking chair. The glow from the lamp inside gave off just enough light as I examined the cover before opening Frankenstein, flipping through to see what annotations Thomas had made in his scribbled, slanted way of expressing his thoughts between the printed lines. They always intrigued me as much as the original work. I smiled, returning to the first page.
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils…

“...Well, what did you think of Duck and Cover?”
Thomas was clearly excited to discuss the schoolwide atomic weapon safety protocol video we had been shown that morning. I was less than eager to reply. Practicing the drill had left me feeling ill.
“A desk would never save us from an explosion of that magnitude.”
“Why not build a bunker?”
Thomas laughed, “It costs money. Besides, would you want to be trapped in a bunker for years until the radiation decays? I’d rather die, frankly, than become a human sardine.”
“If the government really wanted to make dealing with the aftermath convenient, they’d have us each dig our own grave beforehand. When the alarms blare we would simply lie down in them, and wait.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and mimed falling backwards.
I forced the resemblance of a chuckle out of a throat that had constricted.
“You don’t look well.”
“Why should I?” I turned to him, exasperated, “I don’t have a desk at home. Even the illusion of shelter might be nice.”
Thomas softened his voice, “I’m sorry, I was trying to make light of the absurdity of it all… I try not to mention that you’re leaving school. I force it from my mind so often that it sometimes slips away completely.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
“...Doesn’t it bother you? To know that there are decisions being made for us? Ones that we do not get a say in- like who to bomb, or being forced to hide under a desk in the face of certain death?” I could feel my eyes beginning to water.
“...Of course it does.”
“And yet you laugh about it?”
Thomas shrugged, “I try to. Sometimes that’s the only option left.”

“What was your reasoning in choosing a Chevrolet over a Ford?”
My father was patching a tire, I was pestering him while he worked in the barn.
“Truth be told, I could give a damn about brands, makes or models. They all drive, they all break down, they all require special attention to certain faulty components… I simply needed a truck, and this is the one I could afford the day I was buying.”
“So you don’t ever find yourself admiring a Ford?”
“Sure. The grass is always greener, as they say...”
“And as you say. That's an idiom you use often.”
“Perhaps. I’m a practicing pragmatist.”
“You consider yourself to be a pragmatist?”
“...Should I surmise from your tone that you disagree?"
“I… didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words.”
A pair of owls hooted rhythmically from somewhere to the east. He placed the tire back on the hub, giving me a stern look before winking at me as he began tightening the bolts to the rim. His point was made and my tongue was tied. He gave a curt nod at my concession and lowered the jack, running his hands across the repaired tread to make certain that no air was escaping. Once he was satisfied that it had been patched successfully he wiped them on his coveralls and stood up, grunting and groaning as his tired limbs protested just as loudly.
When he spoke again his voice had lost some of the sharpness it typically held, “There was another matter I wished to discuss with you before this task took precedence this evening”
“I’m all ears.”
“Tell that to the mouth you’re always running…” he chuckled softly, his usual gruff timbre still absent from this remark, “Leroy, I’ve decided to hire some help around here.”
I stared at him, sizing up the implication of what he’d said.
“Do you forget who manages your finances?” I asked, incredulous, knowing that we didn’t have a quarter to spare.
“That only adds to my point. You are a child, yet you understand these things as well, or perhaps even better, than I.”
“Indeed, which makes your statement even more foolish.”
The gruffness came back to his voice with his response.
“Not at all. There is hope for you yet. You haven’t made the poor decisions I have and tied yourself to this cursed piece of land… Nothing grows here. And what does is meager…”
“...Meaning that you will need my help to succeed.”
“Nonsense. You will be at school for the spring and the fall, and in the summer you will have chores. But I cannot bear keeping you here with me. I will hire help.”
There was a finality to what he had said. A weight had been simultaneously lifted from my shoulders and placed firmly in the air between us. Impenetrable and inarguable. I found my lips trembling.
“Were you ever happy here?”
My question took him aback. He regarded me for a while before he spoke, his voice once again lowered to a softer cadence and volume.
“...I suppose I was for a time. We told ourselves we would return home to a hero's welcome… To parades and medals and our loved ones. And we did… To all the fanfare and the admiration… For what we had done. Who we had killed. The enemy- young men just like us. Scared, tired, hungry, sick men that we were told to kill with distorted reasoning, manipulation, for fear of being called a coward or a traitor… Through similar methods they were coerced to do the same to us. At the end of the day, we were only ever trying to survive, no matter which uniform we wore.”
He leaned against the frame of the Chevy.
“So I was happy to survive… I was happy to return to my infant, my wife…” he sighed heavily, staring down at the ground, “And then she left us... She was not happy here.”
“We… Couldn’t we have gone with her?”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that, Leroy… She was- is- a spirit meant to be free. She would have never been happy with us. Perhaps I was a fool for ever thinking that she could be…”
I had never heard him speak of her this frankly. I could see his eyes sadden as memories of their time together flashed through his mind. I nearly regretted broaching the subject.
“She was- she is- a good woman, in her own way,” he concluded, looking back at me.
“...And you are a great man,” I told him.
He rubbed his face with his sleeve, quickly concealing the mist forming in his eyes from my sight. When he lowered his arm he was once again composed.
“And you are a great son, Leroy.”

The next morning Thomas was not waiting on the porch for me on the way to school as usual. Instead I was greeted by Sheriff Russell after I knocked on the screen door. Seeing him dressed in a robe and slippers instead of his uniform was oddly disorienting.
"Good morning, Leroy. I'm afraid Thomas has had a fever through the night. His mother believes it best for him to stay in bed for the day. Just getting over mine," he added, seeming to feel the need to justify his attire.
"Oh, well pass it along to him that I hope he feels better soon."
"I'll do that, I'll do just that..." Russell yawned, coffee mug in hand. The sound of bare feet bounding down the steps came from inside and Thomas appeared, looking pale and tired.
“Young man, you ought to be resting!” Darcy poked her head around the corner to half-heartedly scold him.
“I’ll go back up in a minute, Ma, relax!”
Russell scowled at him.
“Did Pop show you this?” he asked, grabbing something off of the kitchen table and pressing it against the screen for me to see.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Only if you believe it to be a Geiger counter."
“I figured we ought to have a few at the station in case we… Well, you never know these days,” Russell said grimly, “They’ve been giving off odd readings though.”
“Have they been calibrated?”
“Do you really think I didn’t zero them in?” Thomas answered before his father could speak.
“It’s just a question… Were they stored with packets of desiccant? Have you made certain that the ionization chambers have not rusted? That the welds are intact? They will be useless if any air gets inside.”
Thomas looked toward Russell to reply.
“I… don’t know. Well, Leroy, Thomas always told me you were sharp,” Russell said, seeming to have gone from seeing me as a child to an equal in that moment. Darcy reappeared around the corner.
“Thomas, get back in your room and rest!”
He grimaced at her.
“I’ll be better in a day or two,” he grumbled, “I’ll see you then.”
“Feel better. Good to see you, Sheriff,” I said, turning to depart.
“One moment, Leroy,” he called, and I returned to the porch, “Have you ever been to the library in Augusta?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been to Augusta at all.”
“You don’t say? Well, with as much as the two of you read, it occurs to me that it would be a worthy pilgrimage to make. What do you say we all take a trip down once we’ve recovered? I imagine they have a few books in the capitol library that you could never find in our little town.”
“I… I’d love to, Sheriff,” I murmured, flustered by this act of kindness, “I’ll… I’ll ask my father.”
“Good man. And Leroy, you may call me Russell,” he smiled.

This was the night that the monster visited me.
It waited until my sheets were soaked in cold sweat and my teeth chattered uncontrollably to make itself known.
It rose out of the darkness, a form that slowly took shape out of billowing shadow. And then it was before me. Massive. Cadaverous. Its suppurating flesh crudely sewn together in multicolored patches.
But worse was its grin. Something so hideous was not meant to express the joy it conveyed from the cruelty of its intentions. Blackened teeth and bloodshot eyes bore into my very essence as the form of Mary Shelley's literary creation was brought to fruition before me. The scream in my lungs would not release itself. It felt as if a great weight had settled over my throat and ribs.
But no, it was the screaming in my ears that made the tapestry of my nightmare begin to fray.
My eyes shot open and the tethers of sleep paralysis released their grip on my limbs.
There it was once more, shrill and agonized, the sound of something suffering in the throes of its final moments before death.
I was on my feet. My door slammed against the wall. My father's door was already open. As I careened down the hallway I was just able to make out his silhouette, a shotgun in his hands.
"Stay here, Leroy," he barked.
A change had come over him. He was no longer the stiff-limbed, patient father I knew. His posture straightened, his voice was callous. He burst into the night, once more a soldier storming into battle. Even in my panic I could not help being awed by the transformation I had witnessed.
A shot fired…
And another.
Then a complete and deafening silence.
I crept to the door, pushing it open just enough to peer out. An impermeable fog clung to the air, making it impossible to make out anything past the porch.
My toes were on the top step now, slowly inching their way to the damp grass.
Still. Silent.
The owls began hooting and the crickets started up their chatter once more. Altogether, the creatures around seemed to release a breath they had held collectively. Even the fog relinquished its grip on my vision.
I could just make out his slumped form. My feet slapped against the cold earth as I sprinted my way toward him, anticipating the worst.
"Dad, are you okay? Dad!"
Then he was on his feet once more, gripping me by the waist and hoisting me up.
"There is nothing for you to see, Leroy... Nothing at all. Close your eyes, son. Please, close your eyes…"
Despite the desperation and sincerity in his voice my curiosity got the better of me. I squinted through my eyelids, just able to make out the pile of scattered limbs through my lashes. I forced bile back down my throat and clenched my eyes tightly, shocked to find myself wishing to return to the nightmare that had awoke me.
submitted by psyopticnerve to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 06:28 rjb1027 This: especially when you consider where you find them.

This: especially when you consider where you find them. submitted by rjb1027 to FuckLewis_ [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 01:23 worduniv Luna's Enchanting Journey: A Tale of Grace, Playfulness, and Love Part 1

Luna's Enchanting Journey: A Tale of Grace, Playfulness, and Love Part 1

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction and is purely a product of imagination. Any resemblance to actual cats, events, or individuals, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. The characters, incidents, and settings portrayed in this story are entirely fictional. The purpose of this tale is to create an imaginative and entertaining narrative. Enjoy & Join our fluffylunaworld to continue with the tale:
In the picturesque town of Willowbrook, nestled amidst rolling hills and adorned with quaint cottages and cobblestone streets, a tale of wonder and enchantment unfolds. It is a story that centers around a remarkable feline named Luna, whose mysterious arrival brings a touch of magic to the lives of the townspeople.
Luna, with her coat as dark as the midnight sky and eyes that shimmered like emerald jewels, appeared on the doorstep of the local bakery one fateful evening. From that moment on, the town of Willowbrook would never be the same. Luna's presence ignited a spark of curiosity and awe, captivating the hearts of all who crossed her path.
As Luna gracefully traverses the streets, her every movement exudes an air of mystery and grace. The townspeople, known for their warmth and hospitality, find themselves irresistibly drawn to this enigmatic feline. From the baker who offers her a freshly baked croissant to the children who eagerly seek her gentle touch, Luna weaves her way into their lives, leaving an indelible mark.
Rumors and whispers spread throughout the town, each tale more fantastical than the last. Some believe Luna hails from distant lands, guided by celestial forces to bring blessings upon the town. Others wonder if she possesses magical powers, capable of bestowing good fortune upon those fortunate enough to encounter her. But amidst the speculation, one thing remains clear—Luna's presence has touched the souls of the townspeople, filling their hearts with a sense of wonder and joy.
As the story unfolds, join us on a journey through the streets of Willowbrook, where enchantment and friendship intertwine. Discover the captivating allure of Luna and witness the transformative power she possesses. Through her presence, we delve into a world where dreams and reality intertwine, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and where the bond between humans and animals becomes a testament to the magic that exists in the world.
So, step into the world of Willowbrook and allow Luna's tale to transport you to a place where the beauty of a simple feline brings about profound and lasting changes. Prepare to be enchanted by her presence, for Luna's story is one that will forever leave an imprint on your heart and inspire you to see the world through a lens of wonder and possibility.

Chapter 1: Luna's Mysterious Arrival

In the sleepy town of Willowbrook, where the sun cast a golden glow upon cobblestone streets and the scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, a quiet evening was about to be forever transformed by an extraordinary visitor.
Nestled amidst the charming cottages that lined the main street, stood a small bakery known as "Sweet Delights." The bakery was renowned for its delectable pastries, warm smiles, and the comforting aroma that wafted through its doors. It was here, on a particularly enchanting evening, that the townspeople's lives would intersect with fate.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal pink hue upon the sky, the bakery's owner, Mrs. Jenkins, was preparing to close up shop. She meticulously arranged the remaining pastries on the display shelves, ensuring they would be fresh for the next day's customers. It was then that a soft rustling sound caught her attention.
Curiosity piqued, Mrs. Jenkins followed the sound to the bakery's entrance. To her surprise, there, nestled in the doorway, sat a small bundle of fur. Startled yet captivated, she leaned closer to get a better look. It was a cat, unlike any she had ever seen before.
The cat had sleek, ebony fur that glistened under the glow of the streetlights, and its vibrant, emerald-green eyes shimmered with an otherworldly radiance. Mrs. Jenkins, unable to resist the allure of this mysterious creature, reached out a hand, her fingers trembling with anticipation.
To her astonishment, the cat approached with cautious steps, its movements graceful and fluid. It nuzzled against her hand, its purrs vibrating through her fingertips. Overwhelmed by a wave of tenderness and an inexplicable connection, Mrs. Jenkins knew that this was no ordinary cat.
With a mixture of awe and curiosity, Mrs. Jenkins invited the cat inside the bakery, offering it a warm saucer of milk. The cat, whom she named Luna, lapped up the milk eagerly, her eyes never leaving Mrs. Jenkins' gaze. It was as if Luna had chosen this moment, this place, to embark on a journey that would touch the lives of everyone in Willowbrook.
Word of Luna's arrival spread throughout the town like wildfire. The townspeople, with their kind hearts and open minds, were immediately drawn to this enigmatic feline. They flocked to the bakery, not only to indulge in Mrs. Jenkins' mouthwatering treats but also to catch a glimpse of Luna's mysterious presence.
Children gathered outside the bakery window, their eyes wide with wonder as Luna gracefully moved from shelf to shelf, her tail swaying with a rhythm only she understood. Adults, too, were captivated by her charm, feeling an inexplicable sense of calm wash over them whenever Luna brushed against their legs or settled in their laps.
As Luna gracefully traversed the streets of Willowbrook, she seemed to understand the needs of the townspeople intuitively. She would comfort the elderly with her soothing presence, lending an ear as they shared stories of bygone days. She would playfully chase after children, bringing smiles and laughter to their faces. Luna's ability to connect with individuals on a deep, emotional level was nothing short of remarkable.
Whispers and speculations about Luna's origin filled the town's gatherings. Some believed she had descended from the heavens, a celestial being sent to bring blessings upon the town. Others wove tales of her magical abilities, attributing miracles to her presence. But amidst the fantastical stories, there was a collective understanding among the townspeople that Luna was no ordinary cat. She possessed an aura, an energy that reached into their souls and awakened something profound within them.
As days turned into weeks, the bond between Luna and the townspeople of Willowbrook grew stronger. She became a symbol of unity and compassion, bridging the gaps between individuals and reminding them of the magic that existed in their lives. The town, once marked by a sense of routine, was now alive with anticipation, as if each day held the promise of a new adventure, courtesy of Luna's whimsical spirit.
In the quiet corners of Willowbrook, whispers of gratitude could be heard. Gratitude for the joy Luna had brought, for the sense of wonder she had rekindled, and for the reminder that sometimes, the most extraordinary things could be found in the simplest of encounters.
As Luna continued her enchanting journey through Willowbrook, her influence would extend far beyond the town's borders. For Luna had a destiny, a purpose that would reveal itself with each passing day. And the town, forever changed by her presence, eagerly awaited the next chapter in Luna's extraordinary tale.
submitted by worduniv to fluffylunaworld [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 00:35 spycat924 SATS headcanons because they've been in my head recently

Annnnd that's it for now
submitted by spycat924 to flipline [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 23:39 Life-Is-Difficile I (30f) am finally accepting myself, looking for advice!

Tl;Dr - new to ENM and exploring sexuality. How do you meet new people? (I'm UK based and live in a sleepy seaside town) - any top tips for dating? - in your opinion/experience, does being married with a kid put me in an unfavourable position to meet people?
This will probably be a long one, thanks in advance if you stay with it... I am choosing my language carefully but I am new to this and am not the best with making the words match the feelings (this is a good start! /s).
I (30f) have been with my husband (29m) for 13 years, 8 married. We met when I was 17 and he 16, and have been together ever since, through uni, lived together, got a dog etc. We were each others' firsts (and onlys). I have never dated.
Fast forward - our family grew to include a (now toddler aged) kid. Loving life.
Start of this year I scrapped the contraceptive pill after it was making me mentally not great. I also found myself fantasising about women, something that I will blame on the hormones or pregnancy (but as you're internet strangers I'm just gonna level with you and say I think I've always known I was not straight but just ignored this...).
I did some soul searching and realised that I wanted to explore my sexuality, and know I would feel regretful and maybe grow to be resentful later in life if I didn't seek out a relationship with another woman at some point. I didn't want to end it with my husband. I felt guilty because I probably should be busying myself with my toddler and family life, but I also didn't want to pour from my sexually repressed and probably resentful cup.
After a surprisingly deep and revealing conversation with a gay friend airing these thoughts, she suggested just talking to my husband about NM/poly. So I did.
What started off as a terrifying conversation became easy and open, and each conversation since (over a series of several days with time to think and compose questions and thoughts in between) concluded that he was not only ok with this, but would support me however he could to be NM. He isn't interested in it himself, but is happy for me to explore.
I read more on poly/ENM, and now is a good time for me. I rationalised away most of the guilt, and our kid is young enough to either not remember or understand if this is a short lived thing, or that NM/poly would be the norm for them. And hey, it comes necessarily with improved communication skills, which I'm sure many millenials would agree is a skill we weren't taught.
So great, I have the support of an amazing husband, a rough idea of what I'm looking for, and finally some free evenings where I can leave the toddler with their dad.
That rough idea is - I want to meet people and be open to seeing where things go, with re-evaluations and check ins at different points to see if everyone is happy. Ace.
So how the f do I meet people?
I live in a small town which is not doing me any favours. I'm often in London and bigger cities which I want to take advantage of. Are there any welcoming queeNM/poly scenes?
I have seen apps mentioned in comments/poets; I tried one app for two weeks and it gave me the ick so stopped, which may have been premature.
Do you guys use apps? - which ones?
I've read so many posts about relationships with marriages and where people in the relationships have kids, so it's not impossible, but so I can callibrate my expectations, are these situations rare and unfavourable?
Is there anyone in the community reading this thinking "go be there for your kid, stop being selfish."?
Further info - we have a poly friend we talk to often. We have both agreed to get relationship councilling at the first sign of any red (even amber) flags. I'm still embracing my sexuality, and use the term bisexuality loosely as until I meet people I don't know if I actually mean pansexuality.
submitted by Life-Is-Difficile to nonmonogamy [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 19:18 Sharpreed "Oh, the Terrors That Lurk: A Dr. Seuss-inspired Adventure"

Chatgpt and Bing Create collaborate to reimagine Stephen King's It.
submitted by Sharpreed to AIGeneratedArt [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 16:19 Most-Substance1799 Multiple different ghost stories

So the first one starts with my dad in the woods hunting he hears leaves crackling behind him but when he turns around their is no one there so he runs and gets up in a deer stand thinking he could get away but the ghost ended up following him up the deer stand eventually he just left from there and went home. The second story starts with my dad in the woods again a decade later he was walking in the woods and a man that wasn't wearing any hunting clothes walked by my dad waved at him and he waved back then my dad turned around just as soon as the man had walked past him and there was nothing he had just disappeared. In 2020 my dad was sleeping in his bed when the cover slowly got pulled off of him and he lay there watching and a black silhouette walked by back throught the wall after and he just pulled the cover back on him and went to sleep. Onen day my mom seen the words SOON wrote on a kitchen cabinet when owned I didn't write it neither did my brother or mom or dad. In 2021 my dad's mother who died in 1993 walked up to his bet while he was sleeping and looked at him he asked what was it and she said you will 3 times and she was still talking but it was like her voice had cut off leaving him not being able to hear the rest then she walked out the door and disappeared. Also in 2021 he woke before in bed with a man wearing workboots standing over him the walking out disappearing. On October 29, 2021 my mom was on her phone texting my dad cause he don't love with us at this point and he told her he was gonna go to bed and stopped texting then after he had went to bed a text from him came on the phone saying looks like it's gonna be a bad night for billy then the message was unsent mom was so worried she Ran uphill to were he lived to see bout him he came to the door he said he had been asleep and his phone was left in the living room and while he was sleepy he said he heard heavy footsteps before mom received the text. Then one dad my dad was leaving out to go town when he looked in our neighbors yard absolutely no one lives there the people that do live in another state and just have the house occasionally but anyway my dad went thtought and seen a little old man standing at the back of his car he turned around and waved at dad the scary thing is he had been dead for months. The my dad woke up one night and seen a little child silhouette writing on the same kitchen cabinet soon was wrote on but when my Dad went to approach him he ran through the living room and disappeared we looked at what he wrote and it's a word but we can't make it out to know what it is. There's also been a black silhouette appear in front of my dad in the living room and they talked but I'd rather not say what they're discussion was about. But guys I feel like we have demons or the devil at our and it's just bad
submitted by Most-Substance1799 to Ghoststories [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 03:04 Jgrupe SCP 9388 - Ethereal Enterprises

This story was written by me and was first featured on the SCP Experience Podcast! Please enjoy. Another cake day story will be coming tomorrow!
Item #: SCP-9388
Object class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures:
Attempts at containing SCP-9388 have been unsuccessful. Due to the transient nature of SCP-9388, it is difficult to initiate containment protocols. However, the successful placement of a permanent tracking device on an exterior wall by Foundation team members has allowed for quick mobilization to defend the perimeter and prevent human entrance once reconstitution is imminent.
Any humans already within the transient structure upon arrival of Foundation task forces are to be considered acceptable losses. Under no circumstances should Foundation team members enter SCP-9388, no matter how desirable the benefits of employment within may seem. Foundation team members who seem particularly interested should be reminded of their ongoing contract for lifetime service with SCP Foundation, and the consequences of voiding that contract.
Finally, any humans who are discovered dismembered or severely injured after escape from SCP-9388 should be brought in for immediate decontamination and neurological reprogramming following debriefing.
SCP-9388 appears to all unknowing eyes as a factory.
The casual observer will wonder how the building was constructed so quickly, as it seems to appear overnight. This is not far from the truth, as SCP-9388 does locomote, using some mechanism still yet to be determined.
Either that, or it teleports itself from place to place. One way or another, it gets where it needs to be.
For anyone unfortunate enough to enter SCP-9388, they will find escape to be quite impossible.
Through some investigation, it has been determined that SCP-9388 uses a tried and true method of luring victims within its doors.
By insinuating itself in a community with poor job opportunities and high unemployment rates, the building which appears to be a factory can lure in many unsuspecting people. By offering decent paying jobs with health benefits, SCP-9388 often finds itself with a surplus of victims - the survivors being left sometimes intact, sometimes partially dismembered, but ALWAYS dissatisfied when it comes to recounting their recent employment.
One such survivor recalled his experience during an interview which was recorded for posterity.
Here is one short excerpt, which gives a glimpse of a typical survivor's experience inside SCP-9388.
Interview 9388-604C - Subject: Redacted Date: Redacted
Investigator: Can you tell us how you came to find yourself in the employ of the aforementioned factory. The place you keep calling, “Sergeant Sphincter’s Nightmaratorium?”
Subject: Sure. It’s hard to forget. Maybe talking about it will help. That’s what they say, right? Talk therapy? Ain’t that a thing?
Investigator: Please sign this form indicating I am not a therapist.
Subject: For real?
Investigator: Yes, I’m afraid so.
Subject: (While signing paper) Okay, listen, I don’t like to think about it, that’s all. The factory was weird. It was all sorts of fucked up.
Investigator: Define “all sorts of fucked up.”
Subject: (Sighs) The day I noticed the place I was walking down the street. I never seen this place before, I think to myself, looking up at this big building that sprung up just since last week. Maybe more recent than that, even, but I ain’t been that way since Tuesday.
So anyways, I’d normally walk right past a help wanted sign, on account of I got a pretty sweet gig with the welfare office right now, but this place stuck out like a sore thumb. It was shiny and new, and there was a big sign planted out front - red with bold white letters - saying, “Hiring - No experience needed - High pay with benefits and pension.” I damn near shit ma’ self. Didn’t think pensions existed no more. Everybody’s doing 401Ks now - they're a helluva lot cheaper on the books.
Investigator: So you went inside? Then what happened?
Subject: Well, it looked normal enough at first. There was a lady at the front reception desk, pretty little thing, had an old fashioned haircut, though. Didn’t look right on her. Someone her age should be lookin’ more stylish than that, I thought. But I wasn’t in a position to be sayin’ nothin’ about it.
I got up to the desk and asked for an application, told her I saw the sign out front sayin’ they was hiring. And she gives me a pen and an application on a clipboard just like that, tells me to sit down and fill it out. Man, weirdest thing was her eyes. They didn’t look right. I don’t know how else to explain it, they just looked strange. Like she wasn’t human, or something. They was wide, like a cartoon character. And she kept lookin’ right past me.
Investigator: Can you elaborate on that? How else did she seem other than human?
Subject: I guess her skin. Now that I think about it. It was a bit plastic-like. Almost like a doll. She was pretty enough to be one, too. Like a damn Barbie doll but life-size and could walk and talk. And when she talked it was flat, like one of those online robots you can type words into and it’ll repeat them back for ya.
Investigator: Text-to-speech. I see. Please, continue.
Subject: So I sat down and started filling out this form. And man, was it long. There was nobody else in there with me, either, I noticed. Even though this place was huge and there was that big sign out front saying they was hiring and how good of a place it was to work. I just kept thinking to myself, ‘It goes to show, nobody wants to work no more these days.”
Investigator: You filled out the forms, yes? What happened next? Did they hire you?
Subject: That’s the thing. The forms went on forever. They just kept asking so many questions. What’s your greatest strength? What’s your greatest weakness? Sure, those ones you’d expect. But then it got more personal. Started asking, “What’s your greatest fear? What’s the name of your childhood best friend? Have you ever fallen asleep in the bathtub? Have you ever plugged in a toaster and dropped it into a bathtub while someone else was inside? What sort of sexual kinks do you have? How big is your-”
Investigator: I see. So it got quite personal. What did you do when you realized you didn’t wish to fill out the rest of the application?
Subject: I stood up. I was gonna go see that receptionist and give her a piece of my mind. I thought she was messing with me. You know what I mean? Like she gave me a bullshit application to fill out just to waste my time.
I got up to the desk and there’s nobody there. Just a sign that says, “Applicants please proceed to Section A.”
Investigator: So the receptionist was gone? And nobody else was around? Didn’t that seem strange to you?
Subject: Sure it did. But I thought maybe she just went to lunch. So I followed the sign to the next room, thinking maybe I’d find her manager there or somebody and I could complain. She was messin’ with me, I thought. For sure, she had to be messin’ with me.
Investigator: What happened after that?
Subject: I went in through those doors. Man, I wish I hadn’t though.
Investigator: And why is that?
Subject: Well, that’s when things started getting crazy. I walked through those doors and there’s this long, long hallway. And so I started walking down it. Ain’t no doors or windows, no pictures hangin’ up. Even the walls didn’t look right. They were smooth, no gaps, just this off-yellow paint. It smelled too. Like they had a bad mildew problem. The floor was a little squishy when you walked on it. Like that carpet was a bit damp. I started to feel water leaking through my shoes and into my socks - but it wasn't cold like you would expect from a flood or a leak. It was warm, almost body temperature, like blood. The fluorescent lights were flickering in this terrible way that made my head hurt, and I just wanted to turn around and go back. But I didn't. Something kept making me want to go forward, like because I'd gotten this far my mind wouldn't let me go back. But I got this feeling it wasn't MY MIND telling me to stay, it was something else. Something stronger than me that I couldn't fight any more than you could fight against the riptide if it was dragging you out to sea.
Investigator: (While scribbling furiously on notepad) Interesting. Please continue. Don’t let me interrupt.
Subject: I’m walking down this long hallway for what feels like forever. And then I realize the door at the end ain’t getting any closer. Just stays the same distance away from me no matter how fast or slow I walk. Yeah, weird, right? And I’m startin’ to think maybe this is a test, like a psychiatrist exam or something that they’re putting me through for this job, because this is the weirdest thing I've ever seen.
But at the same time, I’m thinking about all this other stuff. Like those questions from the forms that I didn’t want to answer, and I’m reliving all of these memories and it’s like I’m filling out those forms in my mind as I’m walking down this never-ending hallway, and I can’t turn back and I can’t think about nothin’ else.
Investigator: Something like that would frighten most people. Did you find yourself afraid at this point in time?
Subject: No, that was the other weird thing. The longer I was there for the more it started to feel like all this weird shit that was happening was okay. Like it was no big deal.
Investigator: So you found yourself acclimating to the place. Becoming accustomed to it. Please continue.
Subject: Right. Yeah, like you said. I was accustomating to it. So eventually I realize I’m in this big factory space. Machines whirring and spinning all around me. Conveyor belts and…
Investigator: I’m sorry, could you go back for a second? What happened to the hallway? Did you find a door leading out of the never-ending hallway? This seems to be a familiar pattern and we never get a straight answer on this.
Subject: Nah, I was just in the hallway one second, then in the factory the next. I must not have been paying attention. Anyways, this guy’s standing in front of me with a clipboard in his hands. He’s wearing a hardhat and safety goggles like you’d expect, but then he’s also got on this real fancy three-piece suit. His shoes too, looked like he was coming from a wedding or a real snooty restaurant or something, like he was one of those Mater Dee guys. And he tells me that I’m gonna be workin’ on the line. And I said sure, no problem, but I didn’t finish filling out the forms. He tells me, “Sure you did. Everyone fills out the forms, whether they want to or not.”
Investigator: Interesting. So he took you to your work station?
Subject: Yeah, he took me over to the line and tells me to stand in front of this conveyor belt. He tells me I’m on quality control, and that I’ve gotta keep an eye for any deformed product coming down the conveyor belt.
After that he walks away and I’m waiting for something to come down the line, but nothing does. I’m standing there for ten minutes and starting to think something’s broken. I was about to walk away to go find that supervisor guy. But then stuff starts coming towards me down the conveyor belt.
Investigator: What EXACTLY did you see first? If you can recall.
Subject: Oh I remember, alright. I can’t forget them. No way can I forget them. Umbrellas. Black umbrellas started coming out of this machine one by one. They were unfurled and closed, alternating one after another. It was so strange. I couldn’t figure out why they’d be like that. Why they wouldn’t all be the same. But either way I kept watching them closely, making sure there wasn’t nothin’ wrong with them. And the longer I stared at those umbrellas, open, closed, open, closed, one after another, the more I started to feel sleepy. Hypnotized.
And then other stuff started coming down the conveyor belt. Bad stuff. Real bad.
Investigator: I understand this must be difficult for you. Please take your time. What do you mean when you say bad stuff was coming down the conveyor belt? Can you be more specific?
Subject: (tearing up) I didn’t understand how she could be there. How she could be laying there on that conveyor belt, looking up at me.
Investigator: Who? Who was there?
Subject: My momma. She died when I was just a little boy. I could barely even remember her face before I saw her coming down the conveyor belt.
Investigator: Your mother was in the factory?
Subject: She was dressed just like she was at that fucking funeral! Her face all painted up, looking waxy and gray. And I felt like I was right back there again, watching her get buried. Standing in the rain. All those black umbrellas all around me. People crying fake tears, dressed all in black, giving me fake sympathy and fake sadness when really they were happy she was gone. She was a terrible mother. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love her. Even if she did smack me around when she’d had too much to drink.
I thought she was still alive at first. I reached out to grab her and tried to pull her off that damn belt. I wanted to save her! But that fucking machine gobbled her up! And it grabbed me! Started to pull me in, too! It took part of my arm and munched it up with those awful teeth! Everyone I ever loved came pouring out of that fucking machine onto that conveyor belt, one by one rushing past me and heading into that black abyss that’s gonna swallow em up and they’ll be gone forever! I tried to stop them! I tried to help them! You have to believe me! You have to! (Sobbing) I hit the red button! The emergency stop button! It didn’t work! It didn’t do anything! It just kept going and going until I was covered in their bodies! They were all around me, everywhere, on top of me! And I could see their eyes! Somehow they were all looking right at me. All of them! Their eyes were all staring at me!
Investigator: Perhaps we should take a break for a few minutes.
Subject: (Sobbing turns to demented laughter) That fucking place ate my arms and legs, you son of a bitch! I'm nothing now but a stump with a head! A break! You want a break!? How about the universe gives me a fucking break! Get me the fuck out of here you-
Interview ends
Since tracking began SCP-9388 has been responsible for at least 2,549 deaths, 928 major injuries requiring hospitalization, 129 minor injuries, and one single individual who managed to escape the factory unscathed. Psychological trauma notwithstanding.
Following extraction, the subject who will be referred to here as “Abercrombie” was interviewed to determine how he managed his successful escape. It was believed that if replicated, this technique could serve as a framework for Foundation team members to safely infiltrate the facility, in an attempt to further potential containment efforts.
Interview 9388-452F - Subject: CODE NAME Abercrombie Date: Redacted
Investigator: Thank you for taking the time to sit down with me, sir. I promise this will just take a few minutes. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.
Abercrombie: You’re damn right I’m a busy man! This is bullshit. Do you know who my father is? Let me tell you, I’m not opposed to suing if I’m not out of here in the next ten minutes. My dad has the best lawyers in town on retainer.
Investigator: Ten minutes is more than generous. Now, please, if you would quickly sum up how you came to find yourself in the factory?
Abercrombie: Whatever, man. As long as it gets me out of this place. Are you guys cops? You have to tell me if you're cops.
Investigator: For the sake of simplicity, sure, we're cops.
Abercrombie: Look, I just needed to take a piss. Fuckin’ Starbucks went right through me. So I went inside this factory, it looked new at least, not like the other piece of shit places around there. Anyways, there's a guy sittin’ at the front desk - looks like he’s high on pills or something - eyes wide as frickin’ dinner plates. So I go up to him and ask for the bathroom, and he says to go down the hall to the left.
I go through these double doors and start walking down this long hallway. I’m thinking there’s gonna be a bathroom somewhere sooner or later, but there’s nothing.
Investigator: Did you find yourself having any… flashbacks during this time in the hallway? Did memories from your past coming rushing back with a flood of emotions?
Abercrombie: Nah, man. I just kept thinkin’ about how bad I needed to take that piss. Couldn’t really focus on much else.
Investigator: (writing furiously) Interesting. What happened next?
Abercrombie: I ended up in this big factory space all of a sudden and I got no memory of how I got there. But there’s this guy standing in front of me all fancy like a butler with a clipboard and a hardhat on his head. He says to me I’m gonna be working the line but I was like, ‘fuck that, bro. I just needed the can.’ And he starts gettin’ all agro on me. Tells me I'm part of The Horde now, whatever the fuck that means. I kicked him in his pecker.
Investigator: You kicked him in the…
Abercrombie: You heard me bro. You want some?
Investigator: No, I’m good. So, how did you manage to escape the place? Did anyone come after you after that?
Abercrombie: Nah, bro. I just opened my eyes and I was standing outside. Fucking pissed myself, though. That was embarrassing. Haven't pissed myself since college.
Interview ends
Following extensive investigation SCP Foundation management has determined that infiltrating SCP-9388 may be feasible in the coming days. Several insights have been gleaned from interviewing the subjects mentioned above as well as many others.
Recommendations for a future containment operation have been outlined in detail, but are summarized below.
Although it will be a dangerous endeavor it is believed that infiltration and containment may be possible using the following mechanisms:
Team members entering SCP-9388 during project codename: Xavier would be required to have a full bladder. It seems that physiological stimuli such as the need to urinate may cause the hypnotic programming and memory extraction of SCP-9388 to have less significant effects. Only the most devoted and seasoned SCP Foundation team members should be assigned for this theoretical mission, as the abilities of SCP-9388 to lure potential candidates for employment is well-recognized. It should be noted that during early phases of identification, several Foundation team members did succumb to the temptation of employment inside SCP-9388 and were subsequently never seen again. Team members should have little to no attachment to any living or deceased relatives if assigned to project codename: Xavier, in order to minimize chances of psychological manipulation and bodily consumption. Team members chosen should preferably be of low moral character, with rich daddies, and questionable decision making ability - matching the profile of subject codename Abercrombie.
SCP-9388 is a transient, semi-ethereal structure with a hive-mind capability of vast superior intelligence, manipulating its victims and feasting on their body parts. An alternative theory suggests that SCP-9388 does not fully consume its victims, but incorporates them in their ethereal state into the factory, using them as workers. Similar to a ghost ship, SCP-9388 contains the essences of many individuals, whose disembodied forms are still capable of doing lasting physical and psychological damage if confronted.
Several reports indicate the presence of additional lifeforms within the factory, most of them appearing at least vaguely human, although they can be differentiated from victims of the factory as they have blue skin, oversized almond-shaped eyes, and are at least twelve feet tall.
Little is known about these beings due to limited contact and even fewer documented encounters with credible SCP Foundation team members.
Although there is potential for future containment, it will involve great risk to any SCP team members assigned to the project. Until that time, foundation team members will do what we can to protect and secure SCP-9388 whenever it resurfaces.
Otherwise, there’s a good chance SCP-9388 will continue getting craftier and more creative - as it finds new ways to lure in its victims.
The size of SCP-9388 has continued to grow larger with each documented encounter - as it is now the size of several city blocks, and is getting exponentially bigger with each reoccurrence.
Hopefully we can contain it before it consumes us all.
submitted by Jgrupe to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]

2023.05.26 22:39 bleepbloop1990 The gaze of the abyss

The poor state of the roads and the necessity of navigating without GPS meant it was after dark by the time Doctor Harsgrove arrived at the observation facility. He sat for a while in the car, staring at the thin folder spread open on his lap, the pages engrossed with strident red confidential designations.
The sound of the insects from the grounds around the facility rose from a low hum to a strident churn of noise as he got out of the car, a thousand small voices rising together as if crying out in fear and rage. He heard the tick of the car’s engine winding down, the harsh buzz of the sodium lights of the parking lot and the cloying musty smell of thick vegetation after a storm. He looked down at his hands and noticed they were trembling. He realized, with something approaching awe, that he was afraid.
Doctor Harsgrove’s official title was Special Incident Command Specialist. He dealt with government agencies and subagencies, with the sprawling, many-limbed, infrastructure of the National Security State. He was who they called when things went wrong, when agencies that weren’t supposed to exist, did things that weren’t supposed to be done.
The sleepy little radio observation facility in a small West Virginia town nestled against the Appalachians was unlike most of the places he was called. The file he had read on the drive told a simple and familiar story of a government facility sliding slowly into disarray, a victim of neglect and lackluster funding.
There was hints though, hidden among the high staff turnover, and disjointed and irregular reports, of something much stranger. There was a pattern there to be discerned, if one had the skill, in the dry reports and readings.
New recruits seemed to always begin with professionalism and keen attention to detail, and then display a similar decline. Reports would become riddled with errors and increasingly bizarre and irrelevant details. Doctor Harsgrove had observed a particular fixation on unexplained noises, and scattered references to some creature or creatures that were “near to breaking through” in the words of one individual. Now contact with the facility had ceased entirely.
Doctor Harsgrove shook himself and strode firmly toward the entryway. He would be damned if, in the twilight of a distinguished career, after the things he had seen, he would let the fears of some second-rate government employees relegated to the armpit of the country shake him. He placed both hands on the double doors of the entryway and paused.
The doors were… breathing.
He felt them swell and retreat against his hand, the texture rough and scaled. His nose was filled with the fetid smell of something both alive and dying. Doctor Harsgrove craned his neck back to look up at the creature and felt his mind collapse at the sight of it.
When he felt his sanity let go, unable to reckon with the sight of something beyond this world, it was a relief.
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2023.05.26 21:23 Sola_Sista_94 Substitute Kokichi: Part Two (Fanfic)

The next afternoon, Himiko's phone rang. She was ecstatic to see that Kokichi was calling her, and immediately answered the phone.

"KOKICHI!!" she exclaimed happily.

"Hey, Monkey Buns!" Kokichi replied. " are you, besides sleepy?"

"I'm okay," Himiko replied in a quiet voice.

"Bored, huh?" Kokichi asked.

"Yeah," Himiko said sadly. "It's no fun without you, and...I really miss you."

"D'aw, you're makin' me blush, HimiCocoa Bean!" Kokichi gushed. "I would have called sooner, but I knew you were still asleep, so I waited a bit."

", your plane landed a few hours ago?" Himiko asked.

"No, actually, it landed almost an hour ago," Kokichi replied. "It's like, 3:45 a.m. here, and I know you usually get up around noon over there, so I just waited until then to call you."

"Nyeh...d'aw, Kokichi, you know me so well! You're makin' me blush!" Himiko said, imitating Kokichi.

"Nee-heehee...I can tell!" Kokichi teased. "I can practically feel the heat from your wittle blushy-wushy cheeky-weekies!" Himiko giggled goofily after hearing that, due to the fact that she really was blushing. "Haha, well, I gotta go, Himiko. I gotta take care of some things." Himiko felt her heart drop.

"Okay," she replied forlornly.

"I'll see you when I get back, 'kay?" Kokichi said.

"Okay," Himiko replied quietly.

"I wuv yooouuuu..." Kokichi said in a silly voice. Himiko giggled softly through her tears.

"I wuv you, too," she said, trying to also be silly. She heard Kokichi chuckle.

"Later, babe," he said.

"Bye," Himiko replied softly. After a few seconds, she heard Kokichi hang up. Himiko put her phone down as tears streamed from her eyes.

"Himiko? You okay?" Tenko asked as she entered the room. Himiko nodded wordlessly as she wiped her face with her hands. Tenko sat down on Himiko's bed next to her and wrapped her arms comfortingly around her. "Don't cry, Himiko. Soon, you'll be hearing that degen-...I mean...Kokichi's voice in no time again! You'll see!" Himiko stopped crying all of a sudden as she remembered something.

"'re right," she replied. "Maybe a lot sooner than I thought!"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Tenko asked. Without answering, Himiko immediately got out of bed and got dressed. She then headed next door to 7th Island House and knocked on the door. Ibuki answered the door.

"HE-LLLLOOOOOOOO, HIMIKOOOOOO!!!" she cheerfully shouted. She gasped suddenly. "Aaahh!! Where's your other half?!"

"Nyeh? My other half?" Himiko asked.

"Yeah! Checkers! Where is he?" Ibuki asked. Himiko's shoulders slumped.

"He's out of town," she mumbled sadly. "But I don't wanna talk about it. I just wanna know if Fuyuhiko is here."

"Fuyuhiko?! Why?!" Ibuki asked.

"Well...n-no reason," Himiko replied sheepishly. She didn't want to tell Ibuki the real reason why she wanted to see Fuyuhiko, afraid that Ibuki would think she was really weird.

"Are you going to cheat on Kokichi?!" Ibuki asked in a horrified whisper.

"No! I'd never do anything like that!" Himiko exclaimed. "I just have to talk to Fuyuhiko! It's really important!"

"Hmm...okay!" Ibuki replied cheerfully. "As long as you're not planning to cheat, I guess it's totally fine! Come on in, little redhead rockstar!" Ibuki led Himiko inside 7th Island House and to the hallway where the boys' rooms were. "Fuyuhiko and Gundham's room is the second door on the right!"

"Nyeh...thanks, Ibuki," Himiko said.

"Nooo problem-ooooo!!!" Ibuki said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a date with two stacks o' flapjacks! See ya!" Ibuki eagerly ran off to the dining room to eat. Himiko took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Fuyuhiko and Gundham's room. Fuyuhiko answered the door, and raised his eyebrows in surprise upon seeing Himiko.

"Himiko? What are you doing here?" he asked. Himiko couldn't help but smile at the mention of her name in Kokichi's voice. She had always loved it whenever Kokichi mentioned her name, and now hearing his voice mentioning it again, even when Kokichi was gone, thrilled her.

"Um...well, I um...I wanted to ask you something?" she answered. Fuyuhiko raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"Does this, by any chance, have anything to do with Kokichi?" he asked.

"N-NO!!!" Himiko replied, blushing. Fuyuhiko chuckled and shook his head.

"Look, Himiko, I understand that you're feeling sad, but...I don't think Kokichi would appreciate you talking to me while he's out of town," he said.

"B-But...I just wanna hear you talk!" Himiko pleaded. "P-Please? Your voice is the only thing that'll get me through this nightmare!"

"For the last time, Himiko, I don't sound anything like Kokichi!" Fuyuhiko insisted. He waved for Himiko to step inside his room. "Gundham, do you think I sound like Kokichi?" Gundham looked up from the book he was reading.

"Of course not!" he said. "If you did, I would either demand another room to sleep in, OR you would have perished from the almighty wrath of my Four Dark Devas of Destruction a long time ago!"

"See?" Fuyuhiko said to Himiko.

"Although..." Gundham added, getting up from his bed. "Your voice does strike a peculiar resemblance to that of the Clown Prince of Lies, albeit, yours is deeper, like a fearsome demon from the pits of hell-aahh!! No, wait...that is me."

"Wait, so you're saying that I actually sound like that bastard?!" Fuyuhiko exclaimed incredulously.

"HEY!!" Himiko shouted angrily.

" offense," Fuyuhiko said. "Sorry."

"Yes, though I admit that your voice is not as grating and cacophonous to my ears," Gundham responded.

"Kokichi's voice isn't bad, either!" Himiko huffed, crossing her arms.

"The only time his voice would be acceptable is if I were deaf," Gundham said. "Other than that, his voice rips into my soul and makes me want to rip out every fiber of my being!"

"HIS VOICE IS BEAUTIFUL!!!" Himiko countered.

"Hey, hey! Relax," Fuyuhiko said. Then, he sighed. "Okay, Himiko, if it means so much to you... I'll hang out with you while Kokichi's gone."

"He is gone?" Gundham asked. "Himiko, as much as I despise that impudent imp you call a boyfriend, I find it odd that you would go behind his back to pine after Fuyuhiko."

"Nyeeeh...I'm not pining after Fuyuhiko!" Himiko groaned in frustration. "I just wanna hear him talk, okay?!"

"Hear him talk?" Gundham repeated.

"Because I apparently sound like Kokichi," Fuyuhiko said.

"I see," Gundham muttered. "How unfortunate to share a voice with such a deceitful, impertinent creature!"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Himiko growled.

"C'mon, Himiko. Let's just go," Fuyuhiko said, waving over to Himiko for her to follow him outside the room. "Let's hang out in the backyard. Just like your guys' backyard, we got a gazebo there, too."

"Nyeh...okay, Koki-...I mean...Fuyuhiko," Himiko replied, following Fuyuhiko as a smile appeared on her face.
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2023.05.26 13:03 OwlCouncil23 Carrington (Book 1) - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter Table of Contents
Maria's Perspective
The night had felt unusually long and restful for some reason. My dreams took me back to a vacation trip my family had taken to visit my grandmother in Mexico before she passed away and well before I lost my husband. The memories were bittersweet, filling my heart with both warmth and sorrow.
As I woke up, I could feel a tear on my cheek and the sun’s rays warming my face through the living room window. Startled by the sudden realization that I might have overslept, I bolted upright, fearing that I had missed the alarm and Derrick bringing home Mr. and Mrs. Allen.
Frantically, I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. To my surprise, it was stuck just past 2 o’clock. Confused, I checked my phone, but the battery was completely dead. In a last attempt to figure out the time, I turned to look at the grandfather clock standing tall by the wall. It was ticking away steadily, indicating that it was 8:30 in the morning.
With a surge of energy, I jumped up and ran to the garage, my legs still feeling the effects of sleep. Flinging the door open, I saw that the town car was still missing. Only the other vehicles were parked in the oversize garage. Puzzled, I thought Derrick must have parked it in the driveway. So, I jogged to the front door and opened it, only to find nothing there. The driveway was empty.
I took a few steps out and looked around. The only car there was mine, tucked out of the way. I stopped and listened. But couldn’t hear any vehicles driving in the distance.
Breathing in the morning air, I was surprised. The air outside was a bit smoky, and I couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong. Everything seemed just a bit off, too, still. I could only hear birds singing and a few dogs barking in the distance. Everything else felt like it was frozen.
Walking back into the house, I closed the front door and glanced at the small table near the door, where a landline phone rested. Picking it up, I tried to remember Derrick’s number, but there was no dial tone. Frustrated, I placed the receiver back down, turned around, and leaned against the door, trying to understand what was happening.
Determined to find a solution, I returned to the couch and picked up my phone. No matter how many buttons I pressed, it still refused to turn on. I rummaged through my bag and found my charger. I went to the nearest wall plug and plugged in my phone, hoping it would spring back to life. After waiting a few seconds, I was disappointed that nothing had changed. It was still dead and unresponsive.
Frustrated, I tried another wall plug, but this one didn’t work either. I stared at a blank phone with a cable attached to a dead charger.
Suddenly, I heard a cute little yawn from behind me. I turned around to see Emma standing there, rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands. I couldn’t help but smile at her sleepy little face. After finishing her yawn, she stomped up to me and wrapped her arms around me in a hug.
“Good morning, Emma,” I said softly, my eyes crinkling in a smile.
“Good morning,” she mumbled, her eyes still half-closed. Suddenly, she looked up at me, her curiosity piqued, and asked, “Why are the lights out?”
I furrowed my brow, slightly taken aback by her question. I didn’t even think of trying the light switches with how much light was pouring through the windows. “What do you mean, sweetie?”
She explained, pointing down the hall, “The lights in the bathroom didn’t turn on when I went to pee. And the water didn’t work well either.”
I quickly racked my brain for an explanation, not wanting to alarm her. With a smile still on my face, I shrugged and said, “It’s probably just a power outage, honey.”
Emma nodded childishly, understandingly, her eyes drifting to the window. “Oh, probably,” she agreed, seemingly satisfied with the answer. She pointed to the window and asked, “Can we play in the park while Mom and Dad are asleep?”
Thinking quickly, I responded, “I’m not sure if Mom and Dad are back yet, sweetie.”
Emma’s eyes widened with concern as she looked up at me. “Where are they?”
I tried to reassure her with a smile, quickly explaining, “Derrick will bring them home soon. They must have stopped by somewhere on the way home.”
Before Emma could respond, we both jumped as we heard Michel’s scream from the other side of the house, “Why doesn’t the toilet flush?!”
I exchanged a glance with Emma, and we burst out laughing, unable to contain ourselves.
Michel ran down the hall, his face flushed with embarrassment. He only sped up when he saw me hugging Emma. I managed to turn just in time to shield Emma from his attempted tackle and hug, catching him with one arm instead.
With both of them by my side, I looked down and said comfortingly, “Don’t worry, you two. Everything will be fine.”
The kids didn’t seem entirely convinced by my reassurance, so I tried a different tactic to distract them. I enthusiastically smiled and asked, “How about some food? Are you two hungry?”
Their faces lit up, and they screamed in unison, “Yes!”
I led them to the kitchen, pretending to use them as anchor points where I could only walk when they stood with my hands stretched between them. We noticed a large puddle on the floor as we entered the kitchen. The kids giggled at the sight of the puddle and my startled reaction.
“Alright, you two,” I said, trying to maintain control of the situation, “sit at the table and wait while I figure this out.”
I exaggeratedly danced around the puddle, eliciting more giggles from Emma and Michel. As I reached the fridge, I noticed the water coming from there. I pointed it out to the kids, a look of mock horror on my face.
“Looks like our fridge decided to take a leak!” I exclaimed, trying to keep the mood light.
The kids laughed, their earlier concerns momentarily forgotten, and I couldn’t help but join them in their amusement. With the power out, I quickly opened the door, grabbed cheese and meat from the fridge, and closed the door with a huff.
The kids seemed to enjoy my theatrics, so I continued stalking over to the pantry.
Continuing my theatrical performance, I dove into the pantry and triumphantly pulled out a bag of bagels. The kids’ eyes widened with excitement at the sight of them. Looking at the bag, I realized it was the sweet blueberry one. Shrugging, I said, “First time for everything.”
Striding over to the toaster, I tried to toast the bagels but remembered that the power was out. Not to be deterred, I grabbed a skillet and used the gas stove to toast the bagels for the kids and myself. The scent of toasting bagels filled the kitchen, adding to the cozy atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the kids started babbling to each other about something, their earlier worries seemingly forgotten. Relaxing, I said a quick prayer for my family, Derrick, and Mr. and Mrs. Allen. I focused on finishing breakfast, placing the toasted bagels on plates, and adding cheese and deli meat slices.
With a flourish, I grabbed the kids’ attention and delivered the plates to the table, and the kids clapped and cheered, excited for their breakfast. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile as I sat down to join them in the impromptu feast.
Out of nowhere, Michel’s face suddenly took on a worried expression. “When will Mom and Dad be home?” he asked, his tiny voice tinged with concern.
I didn’t want to let them spiral into worry, so I quickly thought of a way to distract them. “I’m not sure, sweetie, but you know what? Cooking these bagels on the skillet reminds me of when I would visit my grandmother. She lived in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere in Mexico. They didn’t have much electricity, and gas was more expensive than wood, so they would cook on an outdoor wood stove most of the time. Do you know those old cowboy cartoons you like? It was kind of like that!”
The eyes of the kids shifted from worry to wonder as they listened to my story, their imaginations taking over. My deflection and distraction seemed to be working again. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief but couldn’t help feeling a pang of concern for my family and the Allens. I hoped they would be home soon, safe and sound.
In my heart, I also longed to be with my own children, praying that everything would turn out alright.

Previous Chapter Table of Contents
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2023.05.26 06:04 DropWatcher Drop Watch: May 26th, 2023





and (unsorted):
Bold songs drop at midnight
Songs in bold came out at midnight
* means not on Apple Music or Spotify
Sorted by Spotify Monthly Listeners

Old Drop Watches

Full Calendar

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2023.05.26 03:29 Ok-Cat-1716 [Online][Other][GMT+1][Weekdays][LGBTQIA+ Friendly] Looking for a party to play through Risus: Slimes In Blossom Grove

EDIT: Applications closed, thanks everyone for your interest!
Hey! I'm relatively new to TTRPGs and thus wanted a game that is relatively simple to DM for my first. I've been a player in a few DnD campaigns on and off over the past few years and found the Roleplay element of the game to be fun. Thus, I found Risus, a free TTRPGs with all of it's rules fitting onto 4 pages!
The module I'd be running is called Slimes in Blossom Grove and seems super interesting! It would be a one-shot, but if we enjoy it I'm fully willing to either create my own setting and run a longer campaign or run the slightly longer module, Toast of The Town.
Here's a bit of context about the module:
The Player Characters, tired and hungry from a long day on the road, approach a stop they’ve enjoyed before: the village of Blossom Grove. The PCs remember this place for its friendly little inn, its friendly little populace, and for being the only decent place to get a hot meal and a bath for seven leagues in either direction.
But as the PCs approach, it’s obvious that Blossom Grove has hit the jackpot on Slimes. Or that the jackpot hit Blossom Grove. Even before they’re within the comforting shadows of the village proper, the PCs will see stacks of Slimes napping on the backs of sheep in the pastures, a small group of Slimes having a lazy picnic in an olive grove, and Slimes passed out drunk in the dulcarine orchards (the dulcarine, which doesn’t exactly rhyme with Tulsa Lean, is the local specialty, rosy gold in color, the size of a plum but fuzzy like a peach, sweet and mild). So many Slimes in one place is unprecedented in these sleepy Human hill-shires, and that alone might be sufficient to put the PCs on alert, but then some Slime toddlers nearly set them on fire.

Please apply to be part of the campaign here:
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2023.05.26 02:35 SafeComfortable1009 General Confrence

General Conference
Good Afternoon Brothers And Sisters. Welcome To This Session Of The General Conference. Today I Would Like To Address The Subject Of Caffeine And The Word Of Wisdom Revealed By Prophecy Through The Prophet Joseph Smith. Many Think It's Okay To Have A Cup Of Coffee Or Consume Tea! It Is A Commandment Of The Lord To Abstain From These Things Being Ministers Of His Holy Gospel.
Revelation gave you that. When You Had Your Temple Interview, One Crucial Question Was Asked By Your Bishop. Have You abstained From Coffee, Tea, Tobacco, and Hot Drinks? I'm Here To Announce, Under Church Guidance And Prophecy From President Nielsen, By New Revelation, That A Cup Of Coffee Won't Send You To Outer Darkness Or Keep You From Your Family Eternally! We're Overjoyed To Announce That It's Okay To Partake Of A Cup Of Coffee, Everything In Moderation, Though.
We've Also Received By Revelation That It's Also Ok To Partake In Marijuana In Moderation. President Nielsen Was Pretty High When He Received This Revelation, But It Is From Heavenly Father. This Should Relieve The Consciousness Of Many That Are Wondering How They Were Going To Cope Without Being With Their Miserable Families Throughout Eternity And, Worse Being On A Planet Similar To Kolob As Servants To The Righteous. Heavenly Father Looks Down On Gambling As A Sin. Still, We've Realized That The Revenue Is Going Two Feet Into Wendover, Nevada, And Wendover, Utah, Is Getting A Bend Over From Wendover, Nevada.
It Was Great Discernment And Prayer That Members Had Authorized This To Protect Gambling And Give State Revenue To Wendover, Utah, adjacent too, the state line. They need Income Too, So They're Not Starving To Death Or Having To Go Across The Border To Work In The Great State Of Nevada. Hell, We Do. We've Been Caught With Prostitutes, And Then We Must Confess To President Nielsen. It Would Be Nice If Members Didn't Have Cameras Capturing Us In Our Lusty Night Escapades In Wendover, Nevada!
We're Human, Too. We're Horny Old Prophets And Revelators. Joseph Smith Says, And I Quote, "The Lord Has Made Provision For His Servants To Be Self-gratified." Unquote This May Seem A Bit Out Of Character For Our Profit Who Founded This Holy Institution. Still, He Also Slept With Many Women, Including A Fourteen-year-old Girl Named Fanny Algers. We Tried Our Best To Hide It, But There Are Too Many Intelligent People Out There On The Internet, And We're Coming Clean With His Sordid Life, But We Believe His Revelation On The Church Is True Because We Need The Income! I Mean Heavenly Father's Income.
We Don't Care About You, But We Act Like It, And We Act Like We're Your Grandfather And Give You Sound Common Sense Advice Cloaked As Inspiration And Numbing Harmonious Melodies To Put You To Sleep And A Touch Of Which Is Nothing More Than Common Sense. Truthfully We Don't Know Diddly. Well, I Want To Leave You With This New Instruction And Hope You Understand That The Church Is Becoming More Understanding Of You! Everything Is Subjective, Including Old Geezers Groping In The Lord's Temple.
I Want To Close This Session In The Name Of Our Heavenly Father, Even So, Our Savior Jesus Christ, The One That Atoned For Our Sins, Even Him That Is Above All Names, Even Our Savior, Jesus Christ, Amen.
~apostle Holsendorf~
Hot Mike: "Did I Hum My Talk Enough? Were There Enough Hypnotic Overtones They Seemed Sleepy?"
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2023.05.25 22:50 Spicytoiletpaper Sleepy Town, Eden Utah

Sleepy Town, Eden Utah submitted by Spicytoiletpaper to MostBeautiful [link] [comments]

2023.05.25 15:47 MarshallJMooreAuthor Release Day for Son of a Sailor 🏴‍☠️

Release Day for Son of a Sailor 🏴‍☠️
Son of a Sailor: A Cozy Pirate Tale by Marshall J. Moore (that’s me!) is officially out today! If you are looking for a cozy story with a tropical setting for the summer, be sure to check this one out. It has pirates, a mermaid, found family, and a charming small island community.
You can order the book here.
A pirate tale about home and the family you make for yourself.
Captain Redbeard is the most wanted pirate ever to sail the Eight Seas. But to the folk of his sleepy island hometown, Captain Redbeard is no more than a distant legend. To them, he’s just Quint Thatch - the tavernkeepers’ son.
When tragic news calls him home, Quint hides his pirate identity (and loses his beard) to reconnect with his formidable Ma and childhood friends. As he processes his grief, Quint learns that the bonds of home are as strong as those tying him to his crewmates.
But when Quint’s pirate crew and a ghost from his past sail into town, both halves of his life are thrown into jeopardy. Will he have to choose between his home and his crew, or can Quint find a way to reconcile the two sides of his identity and save them both?

"Pirates, long lost loves, mermaids, found family and refound family -- this novel has it all!" - Rebecca Thorne, author of Can't Spell Treason Without Tea

"The big heart, the found family, the pirate-packed adventure, and the gentle healing journey -- it's the kind of book that sticks with you and connects in ways you never expected." - Meg Hood of Meg's Tea Room Cozy Fantasy Reviews
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