Fred meyer wrapping paper

Whoa, that's a whole lotta stuff!" #mindblown #impressed #holyguacamole

2023.03.22 14:05 Holi_laccy Whoa, that's a whole lotta stuff!" #mindblown #impressed #holyguacamole

Whoa, that's a whole lotta stuff! submitted by Holi_laccy to Flipping [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 13:56 Yakapo88 First time using pellet grill & making brisket. Looking for input.

Here’s my game plan -
Trim and season the brisket, leave in fridge for an hour.
Fire up the grill at 225 and light up the smoker tube.
Cook to 170, then wrap the brisket with parchment paper.
Increase temp to 250 and cook until brisket is 205 degrees.
Does that sound good?
submitted by Yakapo88 to pelletgrills [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 11:27 Raptor013 [OC] New World Order - Chapter Twenty One

The latest Chapter for the on going story, New World Order is now available for everyone's viewing. It can also be found at

‘Did you really have to threaten to open fire on one of your fellow countrymen?’ I hear Jensen ask via an overhead speaker.
“Jensen,” I start, wincing slightly as I readjust my position in the makeshift bed, I had been forced into despite my many protests, “I don’t make threats. If I say I’m going to do something, I’ll make it happen.”
‘That doesn’t help,’ Jensen replies, ‘It also doesn’t help that you delivered that statement to an Enlisted Officer.’
“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” I reply, “Mark was a self-entitled bully back when we were at school. And his attitude certainly hasn’t improved based on our brief encounter the other day.”
‘They’ve lodged an official complaint,’ Jensen states, ‘Apparently they want know why a Nazi flagged ship entered the harbour, threatened the Coast Guard and then simply sailed off.’
“They don’t want to know anything about the attempted air raid, or the battle just off the coast that repelled that air raid?” I ask.
‘There is no mention anywhere in their complaint of seeing any aircraft above the harbour,’ Jensen replies, ‘Although they are also wanting to know about the mystery figure they spotted skating around one of the islands in the harbour.’
“Out of interest,” I ask, “Has anyone from the Chinese Government made a statement about this?”
‘Not officially,’ Jensen answers, ‘Although there have been some back-channel discussions. From what they have disclosed to us, they did witness the air raid and the defensive actions your fleet took. As to their inaction. They were unable to verify our warning to them in time to be able to raise the warning with their boats.’
“That entire engagement lasted almost two hours,” I say shaking my head in disbelief, “If they want answers, I’ll answer them if they can tell me why their only response was to send a single Coast Guard cutter out to investigate.”
‘As I said,’ Jensen begins, ‘They make no mention of seeing any of this in their complaint.’
“Then they are either covering it up, are incompetent or both,” I state, “The lack of action from the Chinese ships that were in the harbour can probably be explained as not wanting to start an International Incident. But I’m not buying the story that no one else saw what was going on that morning.”
‘It certainly does seem that someone is trying to cover this up,’ Jensen agrees, ‘However, without a full investigation into what happened, it’s your word against theirs. And being as you withdrew from the area almost as soon as the battle was over you can see why it doesn’t look good.’
“They’ll have a hard time explaining away all the evidence from the battlefield,” I say, “The boys at the lab are going to be busy for a while documenting everything.”
‘What evidence?’ Jensen asks.
“Well aside from numerous parts from the aircraft that attacked Darwin,” I begin, “The reason I withdrew as fast as I could was, we were able to recover one of the enemy boats.”
‘Have you learned anything about how they work?’ Jensen asks.
“I haven’t been aboard,” I admit, “I’ve been confined to bedrest for the last week.”
‘Its not like you to follow doctors’ orders,’ Jensen comments, ‘You normally ignore most medical advice.’
“What doctor?” I ask, “I still have to be given the all clear from the medical team once we get back to Midway.”
‘Sounds serious,’ Jensen replies, ‘What happened?’
“A concussion of some sort and what I believe to be at least two broken ribs,” I answer, “The ship came under direct attack and Eugen was forced to make some rapid course changes, which sent me bouncing through a hatchway on my way to the deck.”
‘So how long until you reach Midway?’ Jensen inquires.
“Probably two weeks at best guess,” I reply, “Between the slow speed we need to maintain due to having a heavily damaged ship under tow and the rough weather down here it’s making for a slow return voyage.”
‘Well keep in briefed,’ Jensen comments before I hear the audible click as the phone connection ends.
As the skies slowly began to illuminate marking the start of another day, I found myself out on deck during one of the rare moments I had been allowed to leave my quarters.
In the distance the outline of the main laboratory building came into view as Eugen skilfully navigating her ship around the atoll towards the area reserved for offshore mooring of large ships that visited Midway.
As the ship rounded the western most edge of the atoll, the details of the upgrades the team had been working on became apparent. The barge which had been used to transport the huge generator from Darwin had been beached not far from the main power station.
Another larger building had also started to take shape not far from the main laboratories although its purpose was lost on me given the last reports, I had read indicated that we were only using around sixty percent of the facilities storage and research spaces and under forty percent of the living areas.
“It would seem that the team has been busy in our absence,” I comment aloud.
As I say this the rising sun clears the top of the main building, bathing the waters around the atoll in light. Taking in the sight I spy Bogue’s ship moored in the distance. My gaze is soon captured however as in the growing light across the waves a pair of large, heavily armed gun boats lay at anchor.
As Eugen slows her ship and in the near distance I hear the rattle of numerous anchor chains, I take in the details of the closest ship. From the stern flag post a white flag with a red pattern hangs limp in the still morning.
As I scan across the length of the ship, I take note of the numerous sets of gun turrets spread along the length of the main deck from just below the bridge structure running back to just ahead of the number four main battery.
My attention however is soon drawn away to the second of the gun boats, this ship despite from the distance appearing to be slightly smaller in size projected more fear despite fact that like the other ships anchored around the atoll was simply floating at anchor in the low morning swells.
I put the additional sense of projected fear down to the fact that the entire ship appeared to be painted in a flat black paint from the waterline all the way to the very top of the super structure. The only hint of another colour was the flag hanging from the stern post.
“Do you have any lingering effects from the hit to your head?” the doctor asks.
“No,” I reply with a shake of my head, “The headaches cleared up about three days after. The burly vision and ringing in my ears cleared up around the same time.”
“Well,” the doctor says turning off the torch he had been using a moment before, “I’d say you have a minor concussion. But if you aren’t suffering any of the after effects now, you should be fine to return to your regular duties. As for your ribs.” He continues turning to a scan pinned to a light board on the wall. “They are healing well. But you definitely broke two. There’s not much else we can do to speed up your recovery there. Just take it easy.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I retort sarcastically.
“Yes,” the doctor agrees, “You do have a habit of being right where the action is.”
“Speaking of action,” I say changing the subject, “What have I missed here?”
“A lot,” the doctor admits, “However the Professor said he’ll brief you once we were finished here.”
Five minutes later, after the doctor signed off on my medical reports, I enter the main research room to find the Professor sitting in front of his usual multi monitor setup rapidly scrolling through an endless stream of what appeared to be computer code from a distance. “Pull up a chair Nathan,” he says, “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“It would seem so,” I answer remaining standing a short distance away next to a table littered with pages of reports. “Can we begin with an update from the Global Explorer. Surely Jim has reported in by now?”
“He sent a pair of video data folders yesterday,” Professor Strickland answers, “Two separate files he says are from two different locations. He labelled them with the co-ordinates.”
“Anything interesting in the videos?” I ask.
“Plenty if you’re interest lies in the contour of the ocean floor,” Strickland answers with a slight chuckle, “But aside from that. Nothing of importance. I still don’t know why you sent him to either of those locations.”
“Because I needed to confirm a theory,” I reply, “Both of those sites he checked out are where the wrecks of the Akagi and Kaga were found.”
“And that proves a theory?” Strickland asks.
“It certainly lends a lot of support to my theory,” I reply, “Whoever is behind the attacks out at sea has been testing us. Well testing our military at the very least. So far, they’ve employed tactics from our history against us, and are using weapons from our past against us as well.”
“To what end though?” Strickland asks, “None of that makes any sense.”
“I agree,” I say, “But look carefully at what we know. Pearl Harbour was attacked in very similar fashion to how the Japanese did at the start of the Pacific War. And what do we find floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean but a ship that matches perfectly to one of the very ships that was involved in the original battle. A ship that by rights should be on the bottom of the Pacific a couple of hundred nautical miles away from this atoll.”
“But we still don’t know the who or the what,” Strickland insists, “We also don’t know how far this goes?”
“I think we can safely say it goes as far as every ocean on the planet,” I reply, “I’m certainly no expert when it comes to warfare. But whoever is behind this is playing for keeps. They’ve already openly attacked at American Naval Base, a British Fleet out at sea and conducted two Air Raids on major ports in Australia. Plus, there’s enough evidence to believe they ambushed an American Fleet as well.”
“So, your theory is that we are at war with an unknown enemy?” Strickland presses.
“Yes,” I answer, “So far though. I believe they have only been testing our abilities. Otherwise, this would be on every news network around the globe. Right now, the only reason we know anything is through sheer luck.”
“It would seem that you are not alone in thinking that,” Strickland admits, “One of our newest arrivals is of the same opinion.”
“Yes,” I begin, “I meant to ask earlier about the two ships anchored off the atoll. Care to fill me in on that?”
“Do you remember the briefing before you left,” Strickland says, “Where we covered our theory on what those cubes we keep finding are.”
“I remember,” I reply, “The theory is that they contain data of some sort. Only the scanners could not complete the scans due to overheating.”
“The new generator solved that problem,” Strickland announces proudly, “With the extra power, we were able to stabilize the power supply and run additional cooling. We’ve also been able to read quite a few of those cubes now. We found a few of them to be blank however.”
“Blank?” I ask.
“Yes,” Strickland confirms, “Blank. Nothing on them at all. So, one of the junior programmers wondered what would happen if we tried to load data into a cube.”
“What sort of data?” I ask in a worried tone.
“It started off simple,” Strickland admits, “The team transferred about a dozen different ship designs into a couple of cubes. Then transferred data about various types of weapon systems, radars, tactical data from reports that we obtained from Jensen.”
“Does Jensen know about that?” I ask.
“He said it was okay,” Strickland answers, “He said most of the reports were public knowledge already and those that weren’t, were not subject to any privacy laws.”
“Okay, so now we have a bunch of cubes that contain technical and tactical data,” I say, “How does any of that equal two ships anchored off shore?”
“We subjected some of them to a large electrical charge,” Strickland answers simply.
“You didn’t,” I say feeling the colour drain from my face at the prospect.
“We sure did,” Strickland admits, “In fact your timing is perfect. Our first arrival from those experiments has just arrived.”
Turning towards the door, I notice a tall woman with long brown hair step through the open door to the lab. As she makes her way towards us a feeling of familiarity hits me. Everything about her appearance feels oddly like someone I had met before. From the prominent fox-like ears, numerous tails lazily waving behind her, even the style in how she wore her hair.
Then it hit me. Aside from the lighter shade of colour in her hair and the more modest choice of clothing, she nearly was identical in appearance to Akagi. Someone who for the last several weeks had barely been out of my presence as she had insisted on making certain I had remained in the makeshift medical bay to recover from the injuries I had sustained during the battle.
“Please forgive my lateness, Professor,” she says in a voice that despite its calm nature, hints that should the occasion require, could dominate the room. “I lost track of the time studying the history papers you gave me.”
“No need for apologies,” Strickland replies, “I was just briefing the Captain on the latest progress the research team had been making.”
Turning to me, “Allow me to introduce our senior Captain, Nathan Harrison. He oversees our research ships and is one of the teams leading theoretical researchers.” Strickland announces, “Nathan, this is Amagi. Her presence here is the result of one of the experiments I mentioned a moment ago.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” I say with a smile.
“The Professor has spoken of you often,” Amagi says, “He mentioned that you lead from the front and take a very hands-on approach to the projects you oversee.”
“I certainly try to keep myself busy,” I reply, “Being able to have full control of the ship certainly makes the research side of my job easier given I have a greater control over the variables.”
Amagi nods silently in agreement.
“Would I be correct in assuming that the larger of the two cruisers anchored off shore is yours?” I enquire.
“You assume correctly,” Amagi replies, “Are you familiar with Japanese Naval History, Captain?”
“I have a very limited knowledge when it comes to naval history or even tactics for that matter,” I admit, “However I’m certainly learning a lot recently given the events of the past several months.”
“From how the Professor explained my arrival here and the arrival of the other members of the fleet,” Amagi explains, “It would seem that the cubes used in my creation have taken the form from my original design.”
“Your original design?” I ask.
“My ship was original designed to be a battle cruiser, before an attempted conversion to an aircraft carrier was halted due to my hull being badly damaged,” Amagi replies.
Before I can reply, the phone on the table beside the Professor buzzes. Picking it up, the Professor listens in silence before speaking, “We’ll be over in the minute.”
“Problem?” I ask seeing the worried look on the Professors face.
“Maybe,’ he replies, “The radio guys are picking up a radio call from the Global Explorer. They say it sounds like a distress call.”
Crossing the room to where one of the team’s radio operators was listening closely through a headset. As we approached, he held up a hand to prevent any of us from speaking. After a brief pause, he removed the headset and turned to face us. “I have cleaned up the recording as much as possible. But there is a lot of static.”
“Play it,” Strickland says.
‘Glo..l Explorer .. Midway. Encount.. hostile ….. Attack.. Sink… Host… head… fo. Mi..ay. Se..nt..n hour. No..h R.n’
Sharing a look with the Professor as I mentally replayed the message in my head filling it the blanks with the most logical word. As I realized the full message my eyes widened in shock. Going to the nearest computer and sliding the operator out of the way, I rapidly log into the facility’s secure server.
As the opening page loads on the monitor, I take note of the spinning icon in the lower left corner of the screen. Double clicking on the icon, my worst fears are confirmed. “The Global Explorer is dumping its logs onto the server,” I report.
“What does that mean?” I hear Amagi ask in confusion.
“It’s the last action taken before abandoning ship,” I reply, “It’s either manually activated by one of the senior crew before they leave the bridge, or automatically triggered if the ships internal sensors detect multiple compartments flooding.”
“Any chance that it’s a false alarm?” the Professor asks.
“None,” I reply, scrolling through the data logs, barely giving them time to finish loading before moving to the next. “I don’t know what happened out there. But the engine room temperature spiked to over a thousand degrees before dropping down to eleven. Both the forward cargo compartment and rear loading deck compartment sensors are indicating flooding. And the trim sensors are showing a forty-degree list to starboard.”
Looking away from the computer and taking a deep breath to compose my thoughts, “That and the radio message,” I say, “It was definitely Jim. He clearly said hostile and attack and that whoever they were, are headed this way.”
Standing in the conference room fifteen minutes later, the realization that with the apparent loss of the Global Explorer and the loss of the Intrepid and the very real possibility of a hostile enemy closing in on Midway, the team stationed here had lost both main pre-planned escape options we had prepared for in situations that required the rapid evacuation of the atoll.
Behind me I hear various people entering the conference room and taking a seat. As the scrapping of chairs being moved dies down, I turn to face those gathered. Before I can speak, a couple of late arrivals step in through the open door.
The final member of this group is a young woman with short, light peach coloured hair. Who on seeing me, turned away from the group and ran straight for me. On reaching me she wrapped both arms around me drawing me into a tight embrace.
“I see you’ve met Roon,” I hear the Professor call from the doorway as he enters the room.
“So it would seem,” I struggle to reply, “I take it she is the second result of your experiments,” I add.
“Yes,” Strickland replies joining me at the front of the room, “It would seem that she’s a hugger.”
“Would it be possible to have my body back please?” I ask.
Slowly releasing me, Roon steps back, before silently re-joining the others seated in the room.
“I think she likes you,” The Professor comments.
“What makes you say that?” I ask gently feeling my ribs which feel like they are on fire.
“The fact she followed your request,” Strickland answers, “You’re the first who’s been able to get through to her.”
“That’s great,” I mutter sarcastically, “We just need to work on her introductions then. I swear she just re-broke my ribs.”
“If its any consolation,” Strickland begins, “Her combat prowess is second to none based on what little we’ve learned to date.”
Shaking me head in quiet disbelief at the Professor’s continued unyielding push for results rather than showing any concern for how those results were obtained. I scanned the room to find that everyone was looking in my direction.
Everyone save for Akagi. Who was staring through narrowed eyes towards Roon sitting a few rows away.
Clearing my throat, “As some of you may already know. We have received a warning of a possible hostile enemy that is heading straight for us,” I explain, “To those of you who are in senior positions. I need you to wind up any work your departments are working on. And execute our evacuation protocols.”
“Where are we going?” someone from the back of the room calls out.
“The team will evacuate towards Hawaii,” I reply, “There they will either report in to the Navy Yard. Or if advised carry on to the main land.”
As I finish this brief explanation. Over half of those gathered, stand up and walk out to begin the evacuation. As the door closes behind the last of them Professor Strickland speaks up, “Do you really intend to run?”
Looking across at the Professor I reply, “I intend for you and the others to run. In case the rest of us fail to stop the enemy from reaching Midway.”
submitted by Raptor013 to AzureLane [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 10:11 conger-conger Platen material

I am going to change the rubber on my Underwood standard portable 3-bank. Most of the Internet suggest using 3 layers of shrink wrap, but I am worried it won't grip the paper enough. Any suggestions on other, more rubber-y material?
submitted by conger-conger to TypewriterRepair [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 08:58 SuperHotUKDeals 3pk Ben & Jerry's Peace Pops - £1 @ Farmfoods

The following description is not provided by this sub or any of its contributors.
£1 - FarmFoods
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submitted by SuperHotUKDeals to SuperHotUKDeals [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 07:04 carpediem1331 Feedback - Custom Packaging

Looking for some feedback about my custom packing process, value for money, time spent, etc.
So the process... Material: 1. Caft coloured packing boxes, $100 for 50 2. Custom box Sleaves, $150 for 25 3.Tags/stickers, $155 for 500 4. Custom wrapping paper, $11 for 900x1500mm 5. Thank you card, $80 for 250 6. Adhesive spray, $30 7. Raffia Ribbon x3, $7 for 100m
I also add some white tissue paper to wrap the items in and if needed some shredded crinkle paper (teal) to fill the box. Both cost barely anything and I can't remember the exact numbers honestly haha. Final pieces are the thank you card and business card on top of everything and to close it up.
Time: The process of adding the paper, wrapping and folding it all together takes under 30min.
Shipping: I then used Auspost flat rate mailers to ship the boxes out
So what are your thoughts? Do you have any suggestions on how I could improve the process, more cost effective options, more time efficient steps, etc? What about the final result, is it worth all the time effort and money put in?
submitted by carpediem1331 to EtsySellers [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 07:04 Upstairs-Form1418 After retiring, we were able to "reunite" with our mother; chatting became our daily routine.

Worried about my mother being lonely, I moved in with her. Walking into this familiar village, I rarely see my childhood friends. Most of the village is old, lonely men and widows, waiting in the spacious room and looking at the screen, which is extraordinarily quiet. Since the mother insisted on going home and returning to the countryside to live alone. The mother was satisfied and smiled brightly.

I remember when I was five or six years old, it was a difficult time, and I was skinny and lonely, walking around ten miles from Zhanghua Village to my mother's house. The door was opened, and the half-covered door was pushed open. The mother was sitting on the head of the bed wearing a printed headscarf, and the younger brother was wrapped in a thin quilt, waiting to be fed. When my mother saw me, she said, "Hey, how did you get here?" My tears fell like broken beads. My mother got up quickly, took out a paper bag from the bedside table, opened it layer by layer, squeezed a small ball of brown sugar (which she ate during confinement), and poured boiling water into a large porcelain bowl. I was so hungry and thirsty that I didn't care too much. I took the hot bowl and drank it with my head up, which made me scream. This is also the most unforgettable "sweet memory" in my life.

Our mother and son cherish the time, are inseparable, and lie in the same room at night; chatting in our respective beds three steps apart, a series of secrets and anecdotes, ups and downs. As I talked, I responded from the initial "hmm" to the snoring sound of falling asleep. When I was woken up by the chirping birds in the morning, my mother had already prepared breakfast, and the first thing she said when she saw me was, "Your snoring is so loud, it's exactly like mine." There is an old saying about knowing a child like a mother". Day after day, those whispers that blend into the blood of the soul clarify the emotional context of our mother and child.

Because my biological father and my mother had a disagreement in their personalities in the early years, I didn't live with my mother when I was young. Both mother and son have a tacit grievance. Those past events are unbearable to look back on; with a long cry, they suddenly fall. Those misfortunes and encounters in life, in front of my mother, there is nothing I can't let go of. There are two old houses, one is the old house I used to live in, which no longer exists now; but the old house where my mother lived gave me a sense of belonging in my later years.

In the cold winter and the twelfth lunar month, it is so pleasant to be able to lean against the gable and bask in the sun with my mother, chat about homework, fill the space between heaven and earth, and fill my heart. My mother raised me, and I grow old with my mother, I hope that I am worthy of my heart.
submitted by Upstairs-Form1418 to Needafriend [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 06:19 TheHonorableDrDingle Nine Photo Picture Collage Customizable Gift Wrapping Paper Zazzle

Nine Photo Picture Collage Customizable Gift Wrapping Paper Zazzle submitted by TheHonorableDrDingle to CustomPhotoGifts [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 05:46 Adam-best Sliding Wrapping Paper Cutter-Makes Cuts In Seconds Your Best Assistant for Christmas Gift Wrapping!!!! Whenever I cut some wrapping paper to wrap a gift, the cut are comes out so jagged that it looks like there was an earthquake happening while I was cutting it. If you're sick of cutting your

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2023.03.22 05:32 RobotsBanging Nude Week on the Oil Rig - WIP

Ezra arrived at the oil rig early in the morning, after a long and arduous journey that left her feeling exhausted. The helicopter ride was bumpy, and she struggled to keep her breakfast down as they flew over the vast expanse of ocean. But despite her queasy stomach, Ezra couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight below her. The crystal-clear waters were so blue that they seemed almost unreal, while small islands dotted the horizon like emerald jewels.
As she stepped off the helicopter onto the deck of the offshore rig, Ezra was immediately struck by the deafening noise. The sound of machinery whirring and clanging filled her ears, making it hard to hear anything else. But even though it was loud, there was something comforting about it - like a steady heartbeat that kept everything running smoothly.
The workers who greeted her were all men, their faces weathered by years of exposure to wind and sun. They wore hard hats and reflective vests that made them stand out against the dull grey metal of the rig. Despite their gruff appearances, they welcomed Ezra with open arms and showed her around like an old friend.
Fred, in particular, stood out to Ezra. He had a thick beard that covered most of his face and eyes that twinkled mischievously behind his safety goggles. He spoke in a deep voice that rumbled like thunder whenever he laughed or joked around with his colleagues.
Throughout the day, Ezra worked alongside Fred as he taught her how to operate machinery and carry out routine maintenance checks. She struggled at first with some of the heavy equipment - wrenches and hammers that felt awkward in her hands - but soon got into a rhythm as Fred patiently showed her what to do.
The smells on the rig were intense too - a heady mix of salty sea air mingled with diesel fumes from the generators that powered everything on board. There was also a faint tang of oil in the air - not overpowering but enough to make Ezra feel like she was part of something important.
During lunch break in the dining hall, Ezra sat down at one of the long tables with Fred and several other workers from different departments. The room was plain but functional - stainless steel benches lined up against white walls with fluorescent lights overhead casting an artificial glow over everything.
Despite being surrounded by strangers who worked in such different roles from hers, Ezra felt comfortable here. The workers chatted amicably about their work experiences between bites of their meals while occasionally ribbing each other for fun.
Jake caught everyone's attention when he told an outrageous story about getting lost on another rig where he used to work before joining this current one. His laughter rang across the room causing other diners' heads to turn towards him while Mike listened quietly but amusedly from across their table.
As the day wore on, Ezra felt more and more at home on the rig. She had always been a hard worker, and the physical labour of her job gave her a sense of satisfaction that was hard to describe. There was something about being part of a team that worked together to keep everything running smoothly that made her feel alive.
But towards the end of the day, things took an unexpected turn. As she was packing up her tools, one of her coworkers - a man named Dave - approached her with a sly grin on his face.
"Hey Ezra," he said, "you excited for Nude Week next week?"
Ezra felt her heart drop into her stomach as she realized what he was talking about. Nude Week was a tradition on some offshore rigs where workers would shed their clothes for an entire week while they worked as a way of bonding and having fun.
She had heard about it before but hadn't given it much thought - after all, it wasn't common. But now she felt like she had been blindsided by this question from Dave.
"I...uh...I don't know," she stammered, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
Dave just chuckled and slapped her on the back. "Don't worry about it too much," he said. "It's just a bit of fun. But I gotta warn you - we get pretty wild during Nude Week."
Ezra tried to laugh along with him but couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling in her gut. She didn't want to seem prudish or uptight, but the idea of being naked around these men made her nervous. Her boyfriend Tom was the jealous type and they've always been exclusive with each other, she wondered what he would think if he heard about her working around a bunch of fit young nude men, possibly even being nude herself.
She tried to put the idea out of her head, it was something she could worry about next week.
As she made her way back to her cabin, Ezra couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience of working on an oil rig. It was hard work, no doubt about it - physically demanding and mentally exhausting. But there was something exhilarating about being part of such a vital industry - one that kept economies running and people's lives moving forward.
She knew that there would be many more challenges ahead of her in the days and weeks to come - long hours, rough seas, and tough conditions. But with support from people like Fred, Jake, Mike, and even Hank, she felt confident that she could handle anything that came her way.
And as she settled into bed that night with the sound of machinery humming around her like a lullaby, Ezra felt at peace knowing that she was doing something meaningful with her life - something that mattered not just to herself but also to countless others who depended on the oil industry for their livelihoods.
Despite the grueling schedule, she found herself enjoying her time here more and more. The other workers had become like family to her - a close-knit community of people who relied on each other for support in this harsh environment.
Ezra had even struck up an unlikely friendship with Hank, one of the older workers on board. He was rough around the edges but had a heart of gold underneath it all. They would often sit together during breaks sharing stories about their lives back home or making jokes at each other's expense.
But as Nude Week drew closer, Ezra began to feel anxious once again. It wasn't just about being naked in front of these men - it was also about what might happen afterward- whether she could resist temptation no matter how strong that desire inside became?
She tried not to think too much about it as she went through her daily tasks but couldn't help feeling nervous every time someone mentioned Nude Week within proximity.
The morning of Nude Week had arrived, and Ezra felt like she was walking to her doom. The mere thought of being naked in front of her male colleagues made her feel queasy. She tried to psych herself up by telling herself that it was just a bit of fun, but it didn't help much.
The morning of Nude Week had arrived, and Ezra felt like she was walking to her doom. The mere thought of being naked in front of her male colleagues made her feel queasy. She tried to psych herself up by telling herself that it was just a bit of fun, but it didn't help much.
As she stepped out onto the deck, Ezra found that most of the other workers were already nude, milling around and chatting as if this were perfectly normal. Some of them were even carrying out their work duties while completely naked.
Ezra tried to avoid looking at anyone for too long, but it was difficult. Everywhere she turned there seemed to be another naked man - some old and wrinkled, others young and toned.
She could feel eyes on her immediately as she walked around the rig. Some men looked away quickly when they saw her coming, while others stared openly at her body in a way that made her feel uncomfortable and exposed.
Despite trying not to stare too long at any one man's body, Ezra couldn't help but notice every contour of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin or every vein that ran down an erect penis standing proud between muscular thighs.
The sight of so many naked bodies all around her had awakened something deep inside her- something primal and raw- a hunger for sexual indulgence unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Every time Ezra caught sight of a man's bare chest or butt or genitals, she felt an intense surge of desire wash over her. And as the day wore on, these feelings only grew stronger until they became nearly unbearable.
It wasn't just physical either - there was something about being surrounded by so many naked men that made Ezra feel wild with lust. She found herself flirting shamelessly with some of the guys who showed interest in talking to her - batting her eyelashes and swaying her hips suggestively as she talked about work-related topics.
But despite all this sexual tension building up inside her, Ezra knew that she couldn't act on it openly. She was here to do a job after all - one that required focus and concentration if she wanted to make sure everyone came home safe at night.
During breaks from work activities though things got even more heated because now some men were starting to make crude remarks which only added fuel to the fire within making things worse than before!
And then there was Fin...
He looked like he belonged back in high school rather than working on an oil rig among experienced veterans twice his age but he had caught Ezra's eye early on during Nude Week because every time he thought nobody was looking he'd steal glances at her body too quickly followed by averting his eyes trying not get caught staring directly at anything inappropriate which made him seem even more adorable somehow!
They started working together later in the afternoon when they both got assigned to the same task. Fin seemed nervous at first, fidgeting with his tools and avoiding eye contact as they worked side by side.
It wasn't long though before Ezra noticed how fit he looked underneath all that grease - tight muscles bulging against taught skin with every move he made- especially when he bent down over equipment exposing his lower backside for all the world (and Ezras' hungry gaze) to see! Her own nipples hardened as arousal coursed through every fiber of her being making it hard to focus solely on their task ahead while being surrounded by such temptation!
Her gaze drifted lower until she noticed his ballsack hanging low between his legs- round and full like ripe fruit waiting for someone's eager mouth or hand...or both! It took everything within Ezra not to pounce onto him right then and there, to wrap her hands around that tantalizing sac and massage it until he was moaning her name.
But Ezra knew better than to act impulsively. She was still in a committed relationship with her boyfriend back in Idaho, after all. She couldn't let herself get carried away by these wild desires, no matter how much she craved the touch of another man's body against hers.
Still, the temptation was too much for her to resist. As they worked side-by-side, Ezra found herself getting bolder and more daring with every passing moment. She pretended to drop something near him and reached down between his legs from behind to grab it and brushed her hand against his ballsack as she did so.
"Oh! Sorry!" She said giggling.
Fin looked startled but didn't seem to mind her touch. In fact, Ezra could see his penis twitch in response growing more prominent with each passing moment.
She bit her lip and felt a flush spread over every inch of exposed skin as she realized how much he was enjoying this illicit contact between them. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab hold of those tender orbs- squeezing gently until they spilled over into ecstasy.
"D-Don't worry about it" he said.
But their brief contact seems to have stuck with him, several minutes later while she was replacing a fuse in a blasting cabinet she looked down and saw Fin laying on a creeper seat with his head and shoulders under the machinery and his bottom half sticking out laying upright on the floor below her.
Even several minutes after their brief touch his penis was hard and erect as if in anticipation of her welcoming hole. Ezra's own arousal surged to even greater heights as she realized what he wanted from her.
As she worked on the machine above him, she stretched out her leg just enough that it brushed against Fin's inner thigh. He gasped slightly at the contact, but didn't move away.
Ezra took that as a sign of encouragement and looked around too see if any other coworkers could see them.
Luckily, everyone else was busy with their own tasks and there were no prying eyes around to catch them in the act. Emboldened by this newfound sense of secrecy, Ezra quietly closed the fuse-box and stepped over Fin with one leg. She slowly squatted down with her legs apart, positioning herself over Fin's hard cock. She give one more quick glance around to be sure nobody was watching and then lowered herself slowly and quietly onto Fin's throbbing erection.
Fin gasped with shock, which made Dave look up from his desk in their direction. Ezra looked back like a deer caught in the headlights. Dave was on the other side of the room and could see her squatting down in front of the machine, but couldn't see Fin underneath her so he returned to his schematics.
Ezra was still frozen with fear of being caught, but she felt Fins hands grasp her waist and lift her up until only the tip of his penis remained inside. Then he pulled her back down with a soft grunt.
Ezra let out a sigh of relief as she felt Fin's hard length slide deeper inside her, filling her with an intense pleasure that left her gasping for breath. They moved together slowly and quietly, their bodies rocking in perfect rhythm as they tried to keep their activities hidden from the other workers.
Dave glanced in her direction again but this time she didn't stop moving.
She continued to bounce up and down on Fin's hard cock, feeling the pleasure build within her with each thrust. She was so close to the edge of release that all she could think about was how good it would feel when she finally let herself go.
And then suddenly, they heard footsteps approaching from behind them. Panic set in as Ezra realized that someone had caught them in the act.
But it wasn't a coworker come to catch them red-handed- it was just Fred who had finished his work under the machine and decided to check on their progress.
"Hey guys," he said, poking his head into view. "Everything alright?"
Ezra froze mid-thrust for what seemed like an eternity, but then she stood up quickly, pulling herself off of Fin's cock with an audible 'pop' and leaving a ring of wetness around him. Her face flushed with embarrassment and arousal.
"Uh...yeah," she said, trying to sound casual. "Just fixing this machine."
Fred raised an eyebrow and then asked: "Fin in here?"
Ezra nodded, feeling relieved that they weren't caught in the act. "He's under the machine," she said.
Fred narrowed his eyes at her: "Okay... just make sure you clean up when you finish."
Ezra couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at Fred's words. She knew that he was winking at her, letting her know that he was aware of what she and Fin had been up to.
Despite the embarrassment she felt earlier, Ezra realized that part of her wanted to be caught - wanted someone else to know about the illicit encounter between them. It made it all the more exciting and dangerous somehow.
As Fred walked away with a knowing smirk on his face, Ezra turned back to Fin who was still lying on his creeper seat looking dazed from their intense experience moments ago.
"Is everything okay?" she asked him softly.
Fin nodded silently, his eyes glazed over with pleasure as if unable to speak or move after such an intimate moment "Yeah..." he said breathlessly."That was... amazing."
Ezra grinned widely in response feeling grateful for this unexpected connection they've shared today. Despite how risky it had been both physically (they could have been seen by anyone) and emotionally (both were already in committed relationships), there was something inexplicable pulling them together- something primal and fierce like fire raging within each other's bodies demanding release until satisfied completely!
And even though Nude Week would end soon enough leaving nothing more than just memories behind; yet those memories will last forever etched into their minds reminding each other of this incredible day years down the line when they think back upon life changing events- maybe someday they'll even meet again!
submitted by RobotsBanging to u/RobotsBanging [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 05:07 tdciago [SPOILERS S5] When We Wrap We Dance

Looks like FBI Agents Joaquin and Meyer may have concluded their filming. @nick_sean_gomez posted a little celebratory dance video to Instagram with the caption When we wrap we dance.
Meanwhile, @jessicapohly posted video from a car ride through Nanton, Alberta, Canada, with fellow passenger Nick deep in thought.,_Alberta
In other cast news, @lukasgage (Lars Olmstead) has been all over celebrity news lately. By the time this season actually premieres, he may be a bigger fancrush thing than Joe Keery.
Yes, I've apparently turned into Fargo TMZ now. How long until the Fall TV season?
submitted by tdciago to FargoTV [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 04:59 TemporaryUnlikely736 Fred Meyer

Why is Fred Meyer stuck with old cases?
submitted by TemporaryUnlikely736 to HotWheels [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 04:34 CatInDisguiseDGD Recently learned Fred Meyer sells Pokémon Cards, so I went to see if they had any Crown Zenith packs. Bought a Galarian Moltres tin, and...

Recently learned Fred Meyer sells Pokémon Cards, so I went to see if they had any Crown Zenith packs. Bought a Galarian Moltres tin, and... submitted by CatInDisguiseDGD to PokemonTCG [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 04:11 olegeener I'm 32, live in a HCOL city, work in digital marketing & will make $117K since I just got promoted!

Age: 32 Occupation: Senior Digital Marketing Manager Location: HCOL, Midwest, US
Gross income: Currently, $103.5K + 10% annual bonus. Starting next week, $117K + 15% annual bonus! I do some sporadic freelance work for $2-3K per year. Husband is $51K. HHI is $168K (no bonus).
Net income: Current biweekly paycheck is ~$2.8K. Deductions: $75 HSA, health insurance, taxes. Not sure what new paycheck will be! Husband’s is ~$1.5K. Deductions: 401K, health insurances, taxes.
Income progression:
- 2012: After undergrad, got a part time contract job as a community manager (when social media was just barely a thing for businesses). Made $12/hr. Also was a server. All in w/both, $35-45K.
- 2014-2017: Over 5 years, contract gig got more serious. I quit my serving job as I made more from contract gig. Eventually, my role was absorbed by largest client. Started w/them as a social media manager at $55K.
- 2019: After a couple years, took new job in editorial/writing for $51K.
- 2019: Company filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy 6 weeks after I got there (lol). So got a digital marketing manager job in a new, much more expensive city making $70K.
- 2021: After 2 years & a short COVID furlough, joined my current company as a digital marketing manager (under a former boss) at $102K + 10% bonus.
- 2022: Last year, received COL raise to $103.5K.
- March 2023: As of next week, start promotion to senior digital marketing manager w/, $117K + 15% annual bonus.
Assets & Debt
First, to start: my husband & I share finances. We’ve been together for nearly 8 years. We officially combined everything after we got married about a year ago. All assets, spend, etc. reflects both of us.
Retirement balance: ~$2K & that’s it. I did not grow up w/financially fluent family (they also didn’t have any money), nor did I have an understanding about retirement until recently. I’ve also been prioritizing enjoying some of my spoils/saving for other things, tbh. This is changing soon!
Savings balance: $21.5K. Have some medically necessary procedures coming up (not covered by insurance) so socking away for that. We also rent, so always want to have moving cash accessible just in case.
Joint checking: $5.6K.
Solo checking: $1.4K
Student loans: none! Paid mine off in 2020 (~$20K total). (I qualified for a lot of aid; scholarships, grants & subsidized student loans covered my undergrad degree. My parents did not contribute/)
Mortgage: n/a. We rent.
Car: $550 monthly. Bought the car 6 years ago. First decent car either one of us has had. Worth it. (~$3.5K left. We’re gonna pay this off in the spring).
Credit card: Currently $3K but we pay off in full each month.
Monthly Recurring Expenses
Rent: $2,100 for 2 bed, 2 bath, 3rd floor walkup, including outdoor parking space. We’ve lived here almost 4 years. Rent has not increased.
Electric & gas: $250-$350 depending on time of year.
Internet: ~$70.
Car insurance: ~$200 for two cars.
Phones & service: $155 for two phones + service but I get an $80 subsidy for work, so $75.
Fitness: $209 for unlimited Orangetheory. I go ~3 times/week & it’s great.
Prescriptions: ~$90. I have a daily inhaler & I take Adderall for ADHD.
Subscriptions: YouTube music, streaming TV, random podcasts, etc. my husband supports: ~75.
Savings: We put $1K-$2.5K in savings every month.
Weekly Diary!
DAY 1 – TOTAL: $4.75
DAY 2 – TOTAL: $208.20
DAY 3 – TOTAL: $325
DAY 4 – TOTAL: $0
DAY 5 – TOTAL: $484.57
DAY 6 – TOTAL: $38.49
DAY 7 – TOTAL: $143.67
TOTAL FOR WEEK: $1,204.68
This was an above average spending week. Brunch & shopping is not a weekly occurrence, nor are those medical bills. We typically eat/cook/meal prep at home a bit more too. But there ya have it – hope you enjoyed!
submitted by olegeener to MoneyDiariesACTIVE [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 02:47 Jaded-Substance-3492 Day 2

Today was my first full day without my soul mate...
I went to work. Same old, same old.
Around 1pm, he called me. He sounded so defeated and miserable. My heart aches for what he's going through. I found out he has to quarantine for 5 days.. alone basically. Aside from the occasional federal prison inmate that is in and out of the room...
He said he's allowed to leave his cell between 1p and 2p and that's it. Are you fucking kidding me? Did he commit a misdemeanor crime or murder? This shit sounds like solitary confinement. My heart and stomach hurt thinking about how much he's suffering for such a minor crime, and because the judge has a vendetta against him. Fucking bull shit.
We talked for 15 minutes (that's the maximum, smdh). He called his mom. Then called me back. By that time, it was almost 2pm and they told him to wrap it up. He's cold. He's in a plain, white box, alone, no book, tv, music, paper, pencil. NOTHING. Yea, this is a great form of "REHABILITATION". My fucking ass. No wonder people come out crazy. This is the fucking opposite of rehabilitation. This is cruel.
I am a strong. I am fucking strong. But he makes me weak.. I cannot imagine how maddening this could be for him.
And then there's his parents. His mom hasn't slept, his father is so distraught, he can't even look at me. He doesn't know what to do with himself. I almost saw his mom come to tears just thinking about seeing his face on a video call that she has set up tomorrow. My heart breaks for them.
We have 2 dogs. I work 10 hour days, and am basically away from the home for 12 hours. His lovely mom drove 30 minutes to come take care of our dogs. Her heart broke seeing how sad and mopey they were. So, she took them to her house. Man this made my pups so happy. I was honestly worried about their broken hearts - not seeing their dad.
My kids........... I joke that I acquired his 4 children about a year ago. They moved into my house.. and took it over.. and I'm not mad 1 bit. I LOVE THEM as if they were my own. And they love me. But I have 0 rights in this matter, so I don't know when exactly I'll see them again. This breaks my heart and I know it's breaking his.. because they are not safe there. They are not loved over there.
But there's nothing I can do except try and reach out to my daughter through her phone, every day.
submitted by Jaded-Substance-3492 to u/Jaded-Substance-3492 [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 02:32 Emnems RAVE THREAD!!!!!

submitted by Emnems to Eugene [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 02:26 Junior_Cress2828 Are there any good resources for learning to draw pokemon?

So, long story short, I'm an assistant preschool teacher and one of our kids is OBSESSED with pokemon.
And every single day if there is a pen and paper that she can reach, she's bringing it to me and begging me to draw pikachu. She's really uneasy with drawing. And gets super nervous if you ask her to hold any writing instrument. So I draw pikachu with her to encourage her use of markers because its good for fine motor skills, which she is lagging behind with. Today? I took a black marker and drew pikachu with her. And wrapped her hand around a yellow marker and guided her hand to color it in.
And I'm pretty good at drawing a pikachu. I can draw pikachu for memory. I have a pikachu build a bear that's sitting about 3 feet away from me on a shelf. But I am. Not so good at drawing other pokemon from memory.
But she always asks me to draw other pokemon after I draw pikachu. Today she asked me to draw Piplup (well, she calls Piplup "Plip-Plup" and my heart almost spontaneously combusted. There is nothing cuter than her pronunciation of pokemon.) And I. could not do it from memory. I came up with this derpy little penguin that looked vaugely like piplup, but I'm just not confident in it.
She also regularly asks me to draw Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle with her (as well as Charizard, who she calls "Charchard"). Sometimes I get a request for "veevee" (eevee) or "tuttwit" (Turtwig).
This is super important to her education, if you could believe that. When she does actually draw on her own, I applaud her by naming off pokemon that are the same color as whatever color she's drawing with. On the RARE occasion I can get her to write letters, it's usually because she's copying me while I'm writing the word "P-i-k-a-c-h-u" out above a drawing of pikachu.
I want to keep encouraging her to practice her fine motor skills, and the best way to do that has been drawing pokemon. Is there someplace that I can go that I can find a collection of simple drawing tutorials so I can better practice drawing pokemon for her?
submitted by Junior_Cress2828 to pokemon [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 01:34 Azu_Creates Mystery snails in the mail for 7 days, potentially longer.

So I just shipped out some mystery snails. I got priority shipping, but they said because the area is very rural that it’s likely they won’t arrive until next Monday at the least. I’m praying they arrive sooner than that though. I packed them pretty well. I had them in a food safe container with some holes at the top, with four damp paper towels wrapped around them. It’s just two small snails. I also stuck a small bag with some live plants in it in there, a bit of medicated fish food I made for my friend, and a little bracelet. I made sure to secure the snails well with tightly packed shipping paper. I lined the box with reflective insulation bubble wrap. There is a 72 hour shipping heat pack lightly wrapped in some paper in there, with some shipping paper separating it from the snails. When I closed the box with tape I did cut a small hole for air to get in to the heat pack and snails. They are going to a rural town in Michigan. From what I heard from my friend it should be in the 50s for the next few days, I’m unsure about the start of next week though. Will the two snails be able to survive that amount of time? I couldn’t afford the express shipping with the amount of money my mom gave me to ship them (I’m still a minor, so I still have to rely on my parents for money). As much as I wanted to do the express priority shipping, I know for sure that my mom wouldn’t want to pay $55-56 for it.
submitted by Azu_Creates to Aquariums [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 01:13 InkwellValentine Collection of Theories and Knowledge Accrued So Far

Collection of Theories and Knowledge Accrued So Far
Hello! This is my first time getting into an ARG, let alone taking notes FOR said ARG, so I apologize ahead of time if things may seem scattered or less-than-organized. But I still wanted to put out me (and my friends) Observations on the Welcome Home ARG! Below you'll find my thoughts and finding on a few of the pictures linked in the "What is Welcome Home?" Page, the map screen, and the guest book. As well as some working theories on what I think is happening here. (Found Here)

- The Eye-Conography -

Prefacing my larger-scale theories and observations, I would first like to mention that there is a LOT of imagery regarding EYES. Observations. LOOKING. PEEPIN'. That sort of deal.

I'll be attaching visual aide and my findings with each. So opening it up at the same time wouldn't be ENTIRELY necessary. But if you wanna explore it yourself, don't hesitate to in the slightest. Most noticeable around the borders of the web-page. These are easy to miss, at first. Considering that one doesn't really pay much mind to the borders and edges of a screen when reading or observing art. But it's true. One thing to more before starting is that there is a LOT of eye iconography in this ARG. Something I think'll get expounded on the more we delve into it.

- Image 1: The Vinyl Ad -

The Ad Itself
This was the first image I really bit into in terms of taking a deeper look at photo editing and paying attention to the words used. On top of putting our, supposed, main culprit front and center. (That being Home.), I'd like to point towards the image provided with the ad. (Of Eddie, Sunny, and the Vinyl.) You'll notice, pretty obviously, that there's a label for everything. Sunny, Eddie, the Vinyl, and the House. These are all referenced at the bottom of the image. Where it explains each in detail.
Aforementioned Labels and Explanations
Although, if look for even a second, you'll notice that there's a forth label. one that seems to be obscured by writing or crossed out at the indicator. This would be the first thing I took notice of when I viewed this advertisement. That there seems to be a label for something in the dark. Something hidden underneath the paper. I thought for a second that the crinkling of the paper was what was being highlighted. But upon inspection, me and my friends deduced that it it's, honestly, nothing. Not saying that there isn't anything there, of course. But that it's obscured by the age of the paper and my inability to apply filters and effects is most likely indicative of it not being visible. Only implied. Upon giving it some more thought, I realize that the reason that it may appear 'crossed out' is because there are actually MULTIPLE letters layering over the same indicator. Meaning that there is more than one entity worth cataloguing inside the darkness. Or, upon even closer inspection, could be a star of some sort put in between the letter D. Whatever it is, we know for a fact that there is SOMETHING there. What it is, we've yet to conclude.
My current working theory is that it may be another puppet. Or perhaps a spirit of some sort. But finding any of this out would be harder than I care to admit. As most of my methods of editing have proven futile in brightening or exposing the image further.
Another thing of note on this page would be, as i mentioned before, the language. The language on this page seems fine on first read. Like on of those optical illusions made to make you feel dumb when you read over something that, sounded out aloud, should not make any sense. But if you read it in your head, it seems rather innocuous. This would lie in the brief little caption between all the diagrammed merchandise available. Particularly:
And who?
It would seem, and this is something of a trend I have noticed, that a character has, purposefully, been left out. A character that, presumably would have been sold with the others. Or, perhaps, the piece of merchandise belonging to the fourth and final indicator. This clue is what really set me off on starting to, deeply, investigate each and every image present in the Welcome Home tab. Though, in truth, I've to find the truth of many images. I can still surmise what it may be about.
My first theory is that, whoever published the advertisement, purposefully kept out this character for the sake of maintaining the character's concealed identity, but didn't want to put the effort forward to fully conceal it's existence. From the lack of care given to concealing the mistake, I would surmise this has a high chance of being meddling from the Corporate side of Welcome Home's sphere of creative influence. This corporate meddling is further expounded on in a later image. (actually the one right after this one), but I digress.
My second theory on this particular, unexplained typo would be suppression by a higher power. From what I can understand, there is, indeed, a higher power at play in this universe. An unkownable entity pulling the string from behind the scenes. An entity that, in its hubris, is failing to entirely wipe acknowledgment of it's existence free from the site and world. It's worked in the past, I am assuming. As it would appear that, (in-universe), people forgot about Welcome Home until the ClownIllustrations blog came about. This is still a working theory, with very few plot-threads that would lead me to this conclusion. But, overactive imagination aside, I believe it still might be a possibility worth considering. At least until more evidence comes to surface in the future.

- Image 2: "Business Pals" -
For the most part, the second image provided on the site is less ominously foreboding as the first. (What with the assumed censorship or concealment of names and whatnot and the ghost indicator).
But in turn, I believe this image actually provides us with a small, if brief, look into what may or may not have been occurring on the creative versus corporate side of Playfellow Workshop. Though before we discuss speculation on the purpose of this restored piece, I would like to talk about the one piece of hard evidence that I believe is found on this work.
In the bottom-right of the image, you would be remiss for confusing the jumble of numbers as a signature. Or some other form of identifying mark to distinguish who drew this image and why. But in reality, its a bundle of numbers. Numbers that, after staring at the image for longer than I care to admit, could be discerned as follows. (Bear in mind this could have any number of permutations, I'm simply throwing the numbers out there for the sake of clarity.)
Personally, I perceive the numbers 6 5 7 3.
Of course, it could be ordered and framed any sort of way. But I believe that, in the future, this may either allude to a Date, a code, or some other form of content that might be lead up to more clues down the line. Other than that, however, lets get into what I believe this drawing represents.
(Speculation Time)
I believe that this drawing, taken deeper than face value, may allude to the condition of the creative presently working at Playfellow Workshop. From what we understand, Welcome Home had a total runtime of (Almost) 4 years. 4 years of a show, if we're assuming that this ran alongside the Muppet's, is quite a long time. With, assuredly, episodes being released every week. And specials made every large holiday. (This is expounded upon later with future illustrative entries.) Profits would be high. At least one would assume. But, as the profits drove higher and higher, so did the desires of the higher ups at Playfellow (Portrayed by Julie in this image). At the cost of the conditions of the workers charged with MAKING the show in the first place. (Portrayed by crying Eddie.) Which is a crime. You should be ashamed if you ever make Eddie cry. While at the moment, I'm unsure if this may be a spark for something later on down the line, this image may yet be a hint that not all things were right at Playfellow Workshop. (Woah, a television company working its artists to the bone to ensure they keep profits up? Who would've thought.)
Though again, this is speculation. At least largely speculation. Other than this, and the digit code, I have yet to find anything else in this image. If I do find anything, I'll be sure to either add it in the comments, or edit it in later.

- Image 3/4; "Lovely Eats" -


Black and White
This duo of images was what really sent me over the edge in wanting to dive into this ARG more than I care to admit, as I noticed that the things I had taken close eye of, none others had commented on. Hence this post, where I wish to catalog my findings so that others can use it as a springboard for their own discoveries.
First would be the obvious observation. Frank's book.
Supposed Gibberish
The book itself is, assumedly a cookbook. Though in the image, Frank wields a hammer. Something that I feel may have significance in the future. But at present, will only mention it in passing.
The book itself is not meant to be understood, at least in terms of in-universe justification. It would just be artists attempting to dress the book so it's not entirely blank. But on that same note. Why NOT leave it blank? I'm sure people would assume that it's a book for cooking. Why feel the need to add decoration in general?
Well that's because people like me exist, that take every little detail and run with it. Though, sadly, this little details holds little value outside of the simple "Lovely Eat!" anagram when re-arranging the letters. I figured that maybe you could re-arrange the letters into a new word. But I at present, I can't figure anything else from these letters. If you have any ideas, use this as a springboard.
If you've taken to looking at the image before reading this post about it, you actually may not have noticed the bottom text on the screen.
We'll Be Right Back!
Seems pretty basic as is, yeah? But take a closer look. Do you see what I see? Almost as though it's written in invisible ink (Pun intended), there's WORDS there. Words that blend DIRECTLY into the image if you don't zoom in. At first, I immediately jumped to see if anyone else had mentioned it on the subreddit. But alas, nothing yet. So I'll break it. The words, after being run through an EXPOSURE filter, read as follows.
\"May Your Home Be\"
"May Your Home Be." A sentence that I practically hooped and hollered to discover. Though it felt... Incomplete. I scoured the rest of the page looking for absolutely any continuation to this sentence. But then it hit me.
What if it there ISN'T A CONTINUATION at all? What if this message, alone, is something uttered by someone at the formation of something grander? Something sinister. What if this message isn't meant to be; "May Your Home Be Blessed" What if it's, quite literally, "May Your Home Be."? What if this is talking, directly, about a home GAINING sentience? (I.E, Home, The Character.) What if this is referring to Wally's house GAINING it's sentience and becoming an entity in and of itself?
There's a lot of uncertainty in this ARG due to the nature of new people coming in. (Myself included). But I Think this is a deliberate choice of words by the creator. Whether that be the person making the ARG, or the person who put the message in there in-universe. One thing is certain in this entire ARG.
--- The House is ALIVE. It is a SENTIENT BEING. ---
It see's, feels, and understands everything that goes on around it. And this is something I think that leads into more points later on down this post. But I'll save that for when we get there. Onto the next image.

- Image 5: "Hello You" -

Frank and Eddie out on the Post together. (They're kinda cute together tbh)
This one, for the most part, is one that I could only gleam one true piece of information out of. That is; The letters attached to the book, or article, on the right of the image. Which goes, as follows.
(From top to down)
Now, there's two words that are quite obvious to me. "HELLO YOU" and the words "WAIT" Sitting in there amongst the jumble. Now, when writing these down in my notepad, I practically had a heart attack realizing that the letters were, ENTIRELY, meant to jumpscare me and others who were looking to dive into this ARG further. It may be a ciphered image, but as of right now, I'm not entirely sure. All I DO know is that the ARG is now DIRECTLY addressing the playereadeviewer. Which becomes a theme, from what I understand. The person allowing these leaks, or rather, the person directing us forward in discovery of new clues and discoveries, is either unknowingly leaving us clues, or outright purposefully leaving us clues to pick up on. Clues that I, and many others, are willing to pick up on.
Aside from this message, there's little else that I can discern form this page. At least for now. If I find anything, I'll post about it again. (As listed before)

- Image 6: "Wally's Wisdom" -

Wally being kind of a smart-ass with his wisdom.
This next image does more to insinuate than it does to explain like some of the others. The evidence I've peeled off the top of this one is almost entirely circumstantial and theory-based. So I would ask that you please bare with me in this one, as I'm going to let my imagination flow with explaining the information presented. Breaking it up into parts for ease of understanding.
The text portion of this piece (Excluding the bottom right), is the second most curious work in this piece. (Beauitful artwork aside.) The text, assuming that it's not done for purpose comedic timing, seems to be broken in some manner. If you recall from my earlier explanation on the first photo in the welcome home gallery, I mentioned that;
"Whoever published the advertisement, purposefully kept out this character for the sake of maintaining the character's concealed identity, but didn't want to put the effort forward to fully conceal it's existence" - A sorta cool guy
I think what we're seeing here is another example of that same influence being put onto Wally here. As is indicated by the comma adorning his response. It's something that, admittedly, is really funny due to the fact that Wally responded the way he did. And it, granted, did take me a minute to fully get the joke. But what if it isn't a joke? What if it's just Wally being censored once again from speaking on a certain topic. Like, it seems like he truly replies to the question/request doesn't he? As though he says something along the lines of; "Yes, a penny saved is a penny earned...! I hope that helped!" Or gives some other sort of advice on the matter that, for some reason, needed to be struck from the writing. Whatever it is, it didn't sit well with me for a moment. At least until I laughed, realizing that the, most likely intended, way to take this piece would be Wally taking it as someone LITERALLY asking; "Can I ask for advice?" And him replying 'yes! Hope that helped!'
The second thing in regards to the text is that it addresses Wally's house, or Home. As just that. Home. As if it is its own entity. (Which, as is proven by the website and sources, is true. it is alive.) It feels STRANGE that this voice, not only doesn't have a subject in which to come from, but is instead just a void-less thing raising the question. Of course, it's a children's book. That tends to be the case with things in regards to logic or leaps in it, to deliver on a scene or message. Like Pooh bear stumbling on a pot of honey. You're not supposed to think about who put it there, just that "Oh, he found it. Cool." I think this works in a similar manner. But considering the context of which we're viewing these stories, it adds a sort of uneasy feeling to my stomach.
Finally, the words in the bottom left are too vague to surmise anything from. "DO NOT P-" Could be many things. What I assume it to be is "DO NOT PUBLISH." As the copy we're shown could be from an early rendition of the childsbook. (Which supports my theory further down the post about the hand present on the page.)
--- THE HAND ---

Them Grippers
If it isn't obvious enough, the puppet hand seems to be DELIBERATELY places there in order to be noted by people looking for clues or other hints as to what's currently going on.
I think, particularly in this case of purposefully putting things before us to consume, it's safe to say that this, the character holding the book open and taking a picture IS A PUPPET. Very obviously this is not from the page. As can be deduced by the shadow present. It's also not pose-processed, as the lighting seems to line up with every other aspect of the image. No, this is something, or someone holding the book open to SHOW US the page. To SHOW US this particular drawing, for some reason. ON TOP OF showing us that THEY'RE the one's here showing this page to us. They're showing themselves a bit. Whether as a taunt, reminder, or absent-minded slip, we now know that SOMETHING or someone is taking some of these pictures. And, presumably, holds these children's books in good enough quality to warrant sending it to the Restoration project. They either want to be seen, o want to convey a message. (And I mean this both from their perspective, and the ARG creators perspective.) I can deduce on theory that /may/ be a bit finnicky, but would be startling to discover if true.
The Restoration Project is being supplied information by the Puppets themselves.
Or at least one of them. That one being Wally. Who, if my morbid brain is telling me correctly, is the last remaining puppet of the original show. The state at which he is in? Unclear. From the state of the hand? It seems to be in good condition. But we don't see the rest of the body. And therefore, we can't assume much (I mean we can, but I wanna try and stay at least a little bit on-track here.)
This in general is either a slip-up, or done purposefully. Both of which would be valid in their own respective theories. Whether they be yours or supporting another's. This page gives us some potential insight to what or who is sending the Restoration project it's data and information. And, from the words we can assume from the welcome page; I don't think that's a good thing.

- Images 7-12: Be My Valentine! -

Reduced size for Post Image Limit
These sets of images are not only absolutely and almost SICKENINGLY adorable. (In a great way), but they're also, probably, the ACTUALLY most innocuous images in the collection. These Images are, supposedly, attached to the Card's present in-universe that people would give out to folks during Valentines day. THe only problem? Wally and Barnaby don't HAVE any of these cards. EVERYONE in town has cards EXCEPT Barnaby, Home, and Wally. Which, if my assumptions are correct, paints a semi-ominous picture as to what might be going on in Welcome Home. (This will be elaborated on later in the post don't worry.)
Aside from wanting these to be real. (If you're reading this, making some of these as a charity product would be so cute, and I'd order more than I should probably, legally, own.) I'm willing to admit these have me, effectively, stunned. I'm not sure what they mean, besides being works of art. (Which is ironic.) But when me and my friends figure it out, I'll make a post about it.

- Other, Unrelated Notes -

Due to the fact I've been at it for half a day now, I wanted to wrap up on things that I'm SURE of. As opposed to things I may be theorizing about. Though, in truth; There's SO MUCH MORE to these images, and the other images in the archived gallery. But for the sake of not making this post novel-length, lemme wrap things up with some quick fires. (I'll elaborate on things in more posts to come. But I wanna collect enough evidence to JUSTIFY a big post. Y'know? I don't want to push everything out bit by bit and be a pain in the neck for mods and readers trying to get a concise(ish) story.)

The said hole under said house
If you've been keeping your eye on the Sub lately, you'll've noticed that, upon using Inspect Element to delete the gif of Home from the Neighborhood, you'll find an honestly haunting hole in the ground. Presumably BENEATH the house. This feeds into a theory I have about Wally, Barnaby, and Welcome Home in general. But I'll elaborate on that in the "BIG THEORY" Section.
For this in particular, it's practically yelling at you that Wally, and by extension Barnaby, are WELL AWARE of what's happening in Welcome Home. Home (The Character) Being the center of EVERYTHING happening in this ARG. THE Evil that's infecting the world and its people. The House, Wally ,and Barnaby, I think, are responsible for a lot more than what we presently know. This just being an indicator of it.

Something is wrong with the Restoration Team
There's something wrong with the Restoration Team.
OR at least someone is speaking to us through the site that isn't on the Restoration Team. But I believe that there is something intrinsically wrong with the leader, or at least the spokesperson for the restoration team. Something sent in the first letter has gotten ahold of them. Or at least I believe that some supernatural entity has poisoned the people on the Restoration Team. Something has gotten in early, and dug its nails into them. This post being one of the, presumably, few cracks in the mask I think we're going to see on the team. That may or may not lead to more discoveries down the line.
--- Wally Sees US ---

Who's this W a LL y?
Another thing of note is the Guestbook. Scrolling to the empty boxes, we can see that, indeed, someone is typing. Or rather, someone knows we're looking. WALLY knows we're looking. Or at least someone sharing Wally's identity knows that we're looking for clues. Looking for any information we can about his whereabouts. Where HE might be. And I think this Wally. (Who I'll Wall-A) Finds it amusing. As if to taunt us. I see this "Silly Silly" as a taunt. As if to mock us for looking deeper. Mock me for looking deeper.
Though there's something else that brings /anothe question to light. Or rather, some ONE else.
Who on earth is W a L L y? (Who I will call Wall-B.)
Wall-B doesn't seem to be the same person as Wall-A. Wall-B seems to typing to someone. Maybe a fan? I imagine that if a hardcore lover of Kermit sent him a letter, they'd expect a letter back in their grand delusion of ego. But this Fan didn't get a letter back from Wally. instead, Wall-B got nothing. As far as we know, Wall-B didn't so much as get an acknowledgement in the Guestbook. Thus sparking this immature little outrage in white text. Something that, I'm assuming, is being hidden by the Restoration Team to either save face, or generally moderate. Which I don't blame them for. But that still doesn't answer the question.

- The Big Theory -

Theres a lot of things that I could pull from to support a wide range of theories about Welcome Home. Corporate Meddling, Malicious Summoning, Possession. All of it is valid, as the best part of ARG is the fact that you never know what the REAL Truth is. Only the person who made it knows the truth. And they want to see what everyone comes up with. So I'll spit my current theory now, then mold it later on depending on what new evidence comes to light because, FOR SURE, new evidence WILL Come to light.
v v v v v v
Welcome Home's problems started when they had hit it big. The money they were raking in was, I would assume, akin to Muppet money. Star Wars Cameo Muppet Money. So much money that it lead to a boon in merchandising, brand deals, magazine ad spots, paper craft toys. The WHOLE caboodle. The creative team on Welcome Home flourished at first. Making art of the characters they created and loved. Though, as they got bigger. Things started to change. Corporate started stepping in. Forcing them to begin making changes to the show. Making more merchandise. Drawings. Valentine's cards. Holiday Specials. They wanted to merchandise the HELL out of Welcome Home. Now, whether this is the inciting 'incident' or not is something I've yet to piece together. We only truly know about the WORLD of Welcome Home. Not the company and studio who PRODUCED it. Somewhere along the lines, someone in the creative sphere found something. Whether it be tied to the Welcome Home property in general, tied to the characters, or tied to the company, Playfellow Workshop. SOMEONE got a hold of something that would infect the very brand of Welcome Home by the roots. Situating itself deep into the core of the show. Wally. Wally and his happy house, Home. It infected the creative team first, I would assume. As they were the most closely involved with the creation of Welcome Home. Through them, it would spread to Corporate. Eventually dismantling the entire empire all on its own. So much so that it wiped Welcome Home from the general subconscious. That is, until, either, it was no longer satisfied, OR the Restoration Team came knocking at its door. Wondering whatever happened to their favorite kids show, Welcome Home. From there, whatever entity not entrenches itself in the puppets of Welcome Home sent a letter. Packaged in it was a piece of history. As well as a piece of itself. With that piece, it was able to attach itself to a new host. Passing on the possession to even greater heights than before.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
That's all my working theories and observations. I'll post more when I get there. Me and my friends are diving head first into this world. Something isn't' right here, and I don't think we should trust the people giving us the information here. People were theorizing earlier that the doodles on the message book were Wally talking to us. But I don't think that's true. This is the Archive, remember? It's a restoration project that, in its entirety, is trying to catalogue everything they know about what happened to Welcome Home. Why would Wally be here? Unless... The person running the site shares a similar mind space with Wally. Only then would it explain it.
submitted by InkwellValentine to WelcomeHomeNeighbor [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 00:59 ineedabettertitle Have you ever received a phantom call?

Your phone begins to vibrate, indicating that someone is calling you. You look down from whatever you were doing, and pull your phone out of your pocket. You look at the screen...and.
The screen is blank, no emails needing to be read, and no missed calls. The call was a hoax, it seemed to not exist. Just the imagination of a busy mind.
You chuckle to yourself. I must really be addicted to my phone if I am imagining it ringing, you think. You chalk it up to the phone suddenly changing position in your pocket, and get on with the task at hand.
Blissfully unaware.
You see, at that moment, they wanted your attention elsewhere.
Journal Excerpt, Ivan Mikhailov 9th March 1982 [Translated]
"You can't be serious with this." Dimitri slowly said, carefully reading what I had given him.
"It works. All preliminary tests and calculations have been run flawlessly. There seems to be no current limitations."
"No...limitations." He looked up at me, narrowing his eyes. "You do realise what this means for the future of energy?"
Of course, I was well aware. I had created it for that purpose after all.
I nodded. "As amazing as this may seem, this is only the beginning, imagine the possibilities. Endless."
His gaze shifted off into the distance. "Infinite, you mean."
His statement was correct. I had devised a way to create infinite energy from a finite source. This was always theorised to be impossible, you would either have to make the source do infinite work in finite time or have it do finite work in zero time. Both of which were scientifically unfeasible.
Key word being were.
I had opted for the finite work in zero time route. I had hypothesised that, if I was somehow able to slow down time to a complete halt in a specific location, even as small as a pinprick, then by moving the location past the speed of light, I would technically be able to manufacture infinite energy.
After years of trial and error, I was able to hone my research. It wasn't unstable, nor volatile, it would operate consistently and expectedly. In other words it was perfect.
And I was ready to share my discoveries to the world.
Dimitri looked at me again, snapping out from whatever daydream he was in, "You do realise we have to keep this under wraps, right? The potential power of th-"
"Under wraps?!" I interjected. "One of the greatest discoveries of our time, and you want to sweep it under the rug?"
Dimitri placed his head into his palms, clearly worried. "The Americans, man! We don't have the resources to do this practically right now. And if we did, their spies would surely discover it, and beat us to the punch. Remember the moon race? We'd be giving our enemies essentially the keys to unlimited energy, bad enough, but especially in this time!"
I didn't say anything. He was right, of course. But something this big couldn't be contained. Not on my life.
"We do not do anything about this now, agreed?" Dimitri asked.
"Agreed." I said, and got up to shake his hand.
I will start tonight.
This morning, there was a journal in my mailbox.
Covered in 'happy birthday' wrapping paper and topped off with a red bowtie. The journal itself was a faint green, leather-bound, and peeling at the edges. The pages were dog-eared and filled with inky diagrams of thoughts and ideas, machines and contraptions. Things that were really beyond my knowledge.
And it was written completely in Russian.
Intrigued, I ran it through an online translator, and began to read the journal. Most of it was technical jargon that I couldn't understand. But, occasionally, the author would write about what they did that day. I have inserted one such instance above.
After the excerpt I have shown you, the journal goes on to detail how this scientist builds a machine harnessing the power of 'both refracted nanoparticles and a manufactured gravitational pull to create a momentary time dilation in an area of 1nm².'
Essentially, he stopped time.
As best as I can reckon, the formulas and measurements he used were not known in his time, and the way he stopped time has been proven to not be scientifically possible. So I chalked up the journal to the ramblings of a mad scientist, intent on making a name for himself.
As I neared the end of the journal, his writings and notes became even more jumbled and incoherent, in my opinion further solidifying my point. On the very last page of the journal, the scientist had wrote, in very large letters, in what I have come to understand as his final words:
Below the message was a haphazard drawing of a man looking at some sort of device, and above him, was some sort of creature. I say creature, because while it was human in shape, it definitely wasn't intended to be interpreted as such. The creature was drawn with jagged lines which criss-crossed over each other in an irregular pattern, similar to how a toddler would aimlessly colour in shapes.
Its back seemed to be hunched over, making it parallel with its legs. The head was triangular in shape, and its hands were outreached towards the man on the ground.
I shivered at the picture. It looked frightening, of course, but the person who drew this was obviously demented. Grasping at straws, trying to prove that they had created an 'infinite energy' source.
I was closely studying this page of the journal, when my phone began vibrating. After a few seconds, I began to take it out of my pocket, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flash of blue cross my ceiling. I took my hand out of my pocket and stood up, scanning the room for what I just saw.
On inspection, there was nothing out of the ordinary, so I took my phone, which had not stopped vibrating, out to look for who was calling me. And...nothing. No missed calls. I unlocked my phone and searched through my apps, but the search was fruitless. Nothing was new.
But my phone had definitely vibrated.
I put my phone down, wondering what had just happened, when I saw a glimpse of another blue flash on my left side. The flash was so small and inconsequential, that I probably wouldn't have noticed it, had I not been thinking about it.
Remembering something, I began to look through Ivan's journal again. I quickly flipped through the pages before I reached what I was looking for. It seemed like he was going through something similar to me.
Journal Excerpt, Ivan Mikhailov 15th January 1983 [Translated]
The first of the speed experiments has been an undeniable success. After manufacturing a way to retain the time dilation for lengthy periods of time, my next goal was to make it move faster than the speed of light, yet have it remain stationary.
The answer to this admittedly complex problem was simple.
Theoretically, if I could make the speed of vibration equal to the speed of light in a time dilated location, then my experiment would be a success.
So I put my theory to the test. And it worked. I was able to, using vibrations and time dilation, manufacture a source of infinite energy. In essence I was creating energy. Of course, since I had no way to contain this energy, it spilled out in all directions, which made some sort of hyper-blast. The resulting destruction has only set me back a couple of months.
My only goal now is to create some sort of energy containment unit to harness this unlimited energy source.
In other problems, which I believe are due to the hyper-blast, some technologies have been acting up. Vibrating and whirring as if they were on, although thorough investigation has proved that they most definitely were not hooked up to a power source. I am also occasionally seeing 'blue streaks' in the corner of my vision. I do not know the reason, and I am contemplating going to the doctor's for an examination.
This may be irrelevant, but the streaks seem to be more prevalent when I have abstained from using technology for a lengthy period of time.
I will look into this.
I closed the journal.
Blue streaks.
As if on cue, my phone began to vibrate again. A subtle reminder from deep within the recesses of my pockets that someone was trying to contact me. I ignored it.
If I wanted to learn more about these streaks, I had to apparently not use my phone.
So I sat in expectant silence. I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for, or how long I had to wait for that matter. I ignored my still-vibrating phone and waited. After a while, my computer chassis started whirring and flashing its lights, as if it was in the process of turning on. I ignored that as well and moved my gaze away from the monitor.
A flash of blue.
Moving in and out of my peripheral vision in mere moments. I turned my head to see what had caused it but had no luck. I concentrated on where I had seen it last, and resolutely decided to spend all day here if I had to.
Another flash, purple and more prominent.
I again turned my gaze to fixate on it. Nothing. And so it went on for about an hour. I would catch a subtle glimpse of a colour and chase it around the room. Purples and pinks, blues and magenta, my vision was filled with dancing colours. Over time, the colours became more discernible, resolving themselves into blurry shapes of various sizes.
And then finally, it stopped.
The colours grouped together, in the far corner of my ceiling, swirling and muddling, but staying somewhat still. I could finally study what I was actually looking at. I got up to get a closer look, but still wary, I did not touch them.
They were fluttering around in a mini storm. Cascading and colliding, they seemed to emanate anger. Each colour seemed to have its own consciousness, moving and gliding where it pleased. The colours rippled against each other in a flurry of motion.
Then, as if a veil was lifted over my eyes, my vision refocused and I could make out what I was actually seeing. The originally shapeless colours reformed into a person standing on my ceiling, their back bent over, arms outstretched towards me.
Needless to say, I got the fuck out of there.
I ran out of my room and quickly shut the door behind me, chest heaving. Suddenly an arm appeared through my closed door, heaving and writhing like a pit of snakes. Another arm and a head soon followed suit. Once the creature’s eyes looked at me, it opened its mouth and began to shriek.
The resulting sound brought me to my knees, as I covered my ears in a failed attempt to stop the pain. The shriek was high-pitched and made a crackling sort of sound, similar to an intense television static. The sound pierced through my ears with aggressive force, echoing inside my skull.
The creature advanced on me, taking each step with what seemed to be great difficulty, before thrusting a large tendril towards my chest. The force pushed me backwards, and pinned me against the wall. It drew closer, preparing to strike me again.
Rendered immobile due to the noise, I had no choice but to accept my fate in silent fear. It thrust out at me again, forcing its arms through my chest, while apparently leaving no physical damage.
And yet it still hurt.
Each strike burned like a living fire, stretching throughout my veins and causing immeasurable pain. The creature showed no sign of slowing down, it was relentless in its assault against me.
Another strike.
I threw my head back and cried out in anguish, begging for even a moment of respite.
Another strike.
The force of the attack sent my head reeling, I could not comprehend anything else but the searing pain.
Another strike.
The creature picked me up and threw me again once more.
The momentum carried me backwards, and I heard several bones snap as the wall collapsed behind me. I hit my head on something hard and cylindrical, causing me to momentarily lose consciousness.
I woke up to another shriek, louder and more intense than ever before, and the sound of gas rushing out of the pipe I made contact with. Unable to get up, I slowly turned my head towards the creature, who was writhing and jerking, seeming to be in battle with itself.
The creature shrieked again, however this time sounded different. What used to be a vicious noise that was dripping with unbridled anger had turned into a hollow and reverberating echo.
The creature was in pain.
The several colours it was made up of began to drip off the main body, and pool at its feet. The creature staggered around drunkenly, as it began to slowly lose limbs and mobility. With whatever strength it had left, the creature made its way through my walls and away from me, leaving behind a trail of mismatched colours.
I looked back at the colours, which were bubbling and shaking, and noticed they were pooling together again, shaping and forming another creature, although somewhat laboured this time. They were swirling together, and stacking on top of each other like building blocks.
I screamed, for I could not move.
And then my phone vibrated. A soft buzz that I would have laughed at, if my ribs didn’t feel like they had been run over. I painfully repositioned myself, in a way that I would be able to take my phone out of my pocket.
I looked at it. Nothing.
With a blinding flash, the colours around me disappeared, leaving behind no indication that they were ever there, except for the hole in the wall. Breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in a while, I called emergency services.
I left the hospital in a stable condition, but broken bones still take time to heal. Every time my phone rings, I consider not looking at it.
But I can't.
For all I know, I won't make it out alive.
Journal Excerpt, Ivan Mikhailov 29th July 1983 [Translated]
I will write this quickly, as I have much to do and so little time.
I have decided to abandon the project. I was toying with things beyond my control, that perhaps even God himself didn’t want me to see. I will do my best to clear up my mess, but it is unlikely I will be successful. I have let too much escape from my grip.
I will leave whoever may stumble upon these words of mine with a final warning:
Resist all temptations.
It wants your attention elsewhere.

submitted by ineedabettertitle to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 00:56 theradioheadflan goosebumps merchandise iceberg

goosebumps merchandise iceberg submitted by theradioheadflan to GooseBumps [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 00:56 drunkroach-kun I recently realised I was abused growing up, and I regret it.

So warning, mention of abuse and blood, not too graphic.
So hi, I'm a 17 years old girl who, two weeks ago, realised my mother and step brother used to abuse me.
So for background information: My mother and my father both have other kids, and are married so in the marriage I'm the only child. Growing up, I used to live with my parents, and two of my mother's kids, a brother and sister.
Alright! Let's go!
So when I was six, my father got his residence from his elder sister, and came to America, he left and only called three days after and told my mother and older brother. He then ask my brother to look after me, and that he'll take of financial things and that sort.
Then just a half a year later, he visited because he was sick. After that visit, he left again for the next five years
So here's where it started.
Just a couple months after my father left, my mother started to be more aggressive towards me. Yelling, screaming, hitting me with no reason. When she didn't want to hit me, she would let my brother handle it. For a visual representation, my brother is five eleven (don't know if he got shorter), with a large build and thick ass hands. He's left handed, and strong as heck. One playful tap from that dude would leave a mark behind, even worse, he had no control of his strength.
And it's not like I was a bad kid, I was always at the top of my class, and didn't like going out (I still don't)
My mother would try to find any reason, and I mean any reason to hit me. But there's two times that stuck with me till this day.
Like that one time she hit me with an open can of milk while I was playing. Why? Because she called me and I didn't hear her.......I was laughing. The can cut right beside my eye, it was so bad to the point I couldn't see in the eye for days. When I asked her why she hit me, she scolded me and said it was my fault, since I wasn't making sure I was listening just incase she called me. Sillly me was like, oh alright, my bad. And went on with my red eye. Even better, I still have the scar to this day.
Then another time, when there was a celebration at our church I was performing in. She was inside, and I was done performing, so I went out to get some fresh air. While standing at the church gates, this girl came up to me with a folded paper, and told me a boy sent her to give it to me. She was my "friend", so I didn't see why not, and told her sure. Then she took me with her, to a shop across the church to use the lights. I was just standing there, watching her unfold the paper, when this boy who knows my mother saw us. My "friend" saw him coming, and rip the paper in two, and thew it in those big trash thingies. When I saw her throw it away, I started panicking because, why didn't she just give it to him? Now I'll get in trouble for being "sneaky"
And I was so right. The boy went in found a flashlight, and climbed in the bin, and took out the paper. He brought it to my mother, who then gave it to my brother. To this day, I have not a single idea of what was in the paper. And that night, I was beaten with a belt buckle in front of the church, wth people watching. While trying to run, it cut open my shoulder, close to my nape. All I heard was blood trickling down on the floor, when I saw red, I blacked out. Mind you, I was seven, so I was panicking panicking.
The cut was so bad, because of it I didn't go to school for days and only wrapped myself with bedsheets or wore spaghetti strap shirts becaue it was so bad. After it healed, it turned black. My mother didn't want my father to find out, so she bought bleaching cream to lighten it up to my skintone.
Those events never sat right with me, because I was blamed for everything with no explanation. Then two weeks ago, I was making noodles AND CONNECTED THE FUCKING DOTS. AND NOW I WISH I DIDN'T BECAUSE EVERY TIME I SEE MY MOTHER, SHE DISGUST ME......HEEEELP 😭😭😭
Anyways, yeah, thanks for coming to my renting session. Buhbye!! 😘😘
submitted by drunkroach-kun to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]