#and I have not sneezed in 4 days that is unheard of for me but I am thrilled

[goodlucksnez]

Because I don’t have time I’m just going to spill a couple ideas that I have that probably will not turn into anything but like I need to just voice that because the voices are making me go crazy

Number one chuuya and Dazai undercover chuuya I had to go as the “ female” and decided to fuck with Dazai and wears a perfume that dazai/himself are allergic to

number two eracerMic- trying to surprise Shouta, but he knows he wouldn’t leave work unless there’s emergency, so he pretends to be hurt/sick so sho comes home and then finds a surprise party

three Tetchō and Kenji -take them to the mountain side to show them his hometown and Tetchō can’t handle it and has an allergy fit which Kenji tries to avoid making him feel embarrassed

. 

I’m gonna try to get 1/2 wavs out before the 11th but idk anyway goodnight

[arthropod-concoctions]

Uprooted: chapter 4

(ch 1 - ch 3 - ch 5)

Scott woke up to sunlight creeping over the edge of the horizon and a horrible itch in his nose.

He sneezed, pushing the hay out of his face and startling Jimmy, who was laying next to him. Scott closed his eyes again, but he heard Jimmy yawning and shifting over on the haystack.

“Babe,” Jimmy said, “That was really stupid of us.”

“Mmmmwhuh?” Scott replied, still half-asleep.

“Sleeping here. We could've just gone inside, slept on an actual bed.”

Now Scott did open his eyes, and turned around to see Jimmy next to him, looking upward, with his usual goofy grin that Scott loved so much. “Yeah, maybe.” He yawned as well, and stretched his arms out. “I dunno. It was a good idea at the time. It was about the vibe, you know?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Sure. But let's sleep inside tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott rolled closer to Jimmy, wrapped his arms around him- then scrunched up his nose. “But you need to take a bath first. You smell like death.”

Jimmy laughed, and then they laid there in silence, watching the sunrise.

Things weren't back to normal right away. Scott would still get startled when he turned around and saw Jimmy looking at him, and sometimes Jimmy would hold his hand too close to a burning candle, or neglect to wear a jacket in the cold nighttime air, or not eat for a whole day, and it was a reminder that something had changed him, that he wasn't quite the same type of human as Scott. He didn't cry when it was time to take one of the cows to the slaughter anymore, and the smell of smoke never went away, no matter how much he bathed.

It took a week before Scott was able to look Jimmy in the eyes from up close again. While the inner circles of his irises had turned a vibrant red, the edges of them still revealed Jimmy's natural eye colors: one brown, one blue. They clashed with the red, but the mismatched colors were so familiar, so Jimmy, that Scott found it a beautiful sight anyways. Even out of the sunlight, when the red gave off a faint glow, Scott now noticed the other colors, and wondered how he could have ever found the sight to be frightening.

So, as much as it could, business went back to usual. Jimmy took care of the cows-- with just as much love as he always had-- and Scott made dyes and leatherworks. But Jimmy didn't leave the farm anymore, and when acquaintances asked Scott about him, he left out the detail of him being red-lifed now. Reds living together with non-Reds was unheard of, and Scott didn't think the locals would react well to the news that Jimmy's eyes were red now, even if his temperament remained the same. So they kept the fact a secret.

This went well, until a visitor came to their door instead.

A few weeks after the incident, Scott and Jimmy were eating lunch when Scott heard a knock on the door. He looked at Jimmy, who looked just as confused as he felt; they never got visitors to their house. After a few seconds, the person knocked again, and called out: “Is anybody home?”

Scott told Jimmy: “Okay, I'll answer the door; you should stay out of sight.” Jimmy nodded, and headed to their bedroom; Scott got up and opened the door.

Standing outside was somebody Scott had never met before. A man with long ginger hair, wearing a green uniform and carrying large red-and-white banner partially strapped to his back. Next to him stood a horse, casually grazing on the grass of Scott's lawn.

“Ah, hello,” the unknown man said to Scott. “Is there anybody else living here?”

Scott had intended to tell whoever was at the door that his husband was sick, but seeing this stranger, he changed his mind. “Nope. Just me.”

The man looked skeptical, but didn't push the matter. Instead he grabbed a scroll of paper, and began to read from it. “Well, I'm here to inform you that this land now belongs to King Ren of Sanguacanis, and you are therefore beholden to the following laws...”

Scott hummed in surprise. He'd heard rumors of war, of course, but him and Jimmy lived so far away from any big community that they didn't think they would ever experience consequences of it quite this directly.

“First of all, the kingdom uses a currency of coins and emeralds. One gold coin is worth the same as a loaf of bread, and one emerald has the value of ten coins. You should accept these coins to trade for your wares instead of bartering.”

that would explain the story Jimmy told about that crazy lady, Scott thought.

“Second, you are expected to pay a tax to the kingdom. The tax amounts to fifteen coins per month, and will be collected monthly. If you don't have coins at the time, then goods you've created of equal value will suffice.”

“What?” Scott exclaimed in shock. If one coin was equal to one loaf of bread, that was a ludicrous amount of extra goods to get every month. “How are we meant to get that money? We can barely trade enough to eat every month!”

“Well, perhaps raising your prices might help,” the messenger responded. He seemed bored, like he'd had this exchange with a dozen people already. “But who's 'we'? You said you lived alone.”

Scott silently cursed himself. How was he going to explain this? A partial truth was probably the best option.

“Sorry. My husband turned Red recently, I'm still not quite accustomed to... that.” he tried to put as much grief into his voice as possible, in hopes the messenger wouldn't ask too many follow-up questions.

The man nodded, and said: “I'm sorry that's happened. But the next law may be of particular interest to you then: all red-lifed citizens will be recruited into the Red Army.”

Scott felt his face getting paler. “The... Red Army?”

“Yes. The red-lifed can then use their fighting spirit in a constructive way: to fight for King Ren.” The messenger began to rummage through a bag hanging off of his horse's side. “This also means you are not to bury or cremate Reds anymore; simply hang this banner on the road near your house, and scouts of the army will come retrieve them.”

The man handed Scott a wide strip of red fabric, similar to the banner he was bearing. The anxiety Scott felt must've been noticeable on his face, because the man smiled at him and added:

“If you're worried about your husband hurting you, don't worry. The Red Army is quite competent at dealing with overly aggressive Reds. You'll both be fine.”

Scott nodded and gave a strangled sort of hum as a response. The reassurance didn't comfort him at all; quite the opposite. The thought of Jimmy being dragged away to a literal army of Reds made him nauseous with dread.

The messenger mounted his horse again and went along the road, so Scott turned around and went back inside. There he found Jimmy with his ear against the wall. He looked at Scott, eyes wide.

“I don't want to join the army,” he eventually said.

“I don't want that either!” Scott responded. He looked at the banner in his hands. “I'm supposed to hang this up by the road, but...”

“Well don't do that then!” Jimmy yelled. “I can't join the army. I'm already Red, if I get into another fight... it's over.”

Scott dropped the banner to the ground, then kicked it into a corner of the room. “Well, we've been doing a pretty good job of hiding that you're Red so far. I think if we just... keep doing that, we should be fine.”

Jimmy nodded. “I hope so.”

Scott's lunch was still on the table, so he resumed eating, even though his appetite had vanished.

- - -

After sunset, Scott and Jimmy were lighting candles, when they heard something shuffling outside the door. Scott glanced at Jimmy, then turned towards the door and watched it carefully. It didn't open, but after a few seconds, a note was slid underneath. Scott heard a knock on the door, then the sound of someone walking away. After a moment, Jimmy carefully went to the door and picked up the note. He read it, then looked to Scott.

“Scott. Come take a look at this,” he said. Scott went to Jimmy, and he handed him the note. Scott looked at it. The handwriting was difficult to decipher, especially in the candlelight, but when he squinted he could make out the words:

Don't want to pay taxes or join the army? Come to the Red Desert! A soceity where reds and greens can live as equals.

Come to the desert to the west during the nighttime.

“Huh,” Scott said. “Guess we do have options.”

[ahnsael]

I really hate calling in sick.

For one thing, tonight will be only the second time since my hospital stay in January of 2018. I pride myself on dependability. Usually I just push through, but also four of my five days per week are days when I CAN NOT miss work.

Either I’m the only manager (in which case me calling off would mean the swing shift manager stays four hours late and the day shift manager comes in four hours early, meaning both work 12-hour shifts), or it’s the weekend and I would have to pay for a doctor’s visit to get a note releasing me back to work per the policy on missing work on a weekend, or it’s payroll night (according to a note I saw in the office this week that my boss forgot to throw away/hide, me going in to do Payroll and charging the hours to the day before my vacation because even though I was technically on vacation at the time, I couldn’t charge that hour to a day when I was getting vacation pay was a big kerfuffle, but my boss approved it and I got paid for it), or it’s “drop night” when I REALLY need to be there.

This was pretty much the ONLY day of the week where I could feasibly call off, so I guess...good for me for getting sick on the one day of the week where I can actually miss work?.

The rest under a cut in case you’d rather not read details (nothing TOO terrible, but...yeah, what’s above is the gist of things so you can stop here if that’s all you need to know).

But...as much as I’ve...well, to put it mildly, “bent down in worship of the porcelain god” over the past couple hours, I had to make the call. Better to do it in the early afternoon than to say “I think I can do this” and then find out later than I cannot. Either way, they’re covered -- they have a manager and a bartender, and also a casino attendant whose new schedule has her there until 4:30am (they used to be there until 7:30am but the person asked for  “early outs” so often that my boss decided to change her schedule to have her come in earlier in order to be off earlier).

There’s a chance I could make it if I tried. But, per company policy, we have to give as much notice as possible (with a MINIMUM of four hours) if we’re calling in sick. And if I feel later as I do now, there’s just...no way. I mean, I could NOT call off, and then show up to work, and ask to be sent home sick (which, at that point, wouldn’t count as an absence under our rules, and I’m sure the other manager tonight would be good with that), but...as much as I’ve worshiped the throne this late morning/early afternoon, I don’t want to take a chance. And why avoid calling in sick, just to show up and tell my co-workers “sorry, I’m screwing you over” when I can just call and let them know in plenty of time to plan ahead. Plus. I knew one of my in-house bosses was there, so I was able to call and talk to him personally instead of having them hear “through the grapevine” that I had called in sick.

(Granted the other manager will have a bartender, plus a casino attendant [which we have NEVER had on graveyard until about a month ago] to help out. Granted, the casino attendant is only there until 4:30am, but by then things are mellow -- by then even the tweakers are going to bed and it’s all about making sure we have enough coffee ready for the morning guests, so she should be okay).

It’s probably food poisoning.

My parents love to ignore all food safety regulations. Okay, maybe that’s not fair. They don’t KNOW food safety regulations. Apparently.

Usually I’m used to it enough that, depending on the food, I know not to eat it. If I know they’ve used something long-expired in it (it’s literally not unheard of for my stepdad to spoon the mold off of old sauce and then use that sauce in a meal when it’s his turn to cook -- he also literally digs paper plates out of the trash to re-use them because that 0.3¢ is THAT important). But all I ate this morning was some leftover pasta that my mom made two nights ago.

Yesterday I was fine eating the leftovers, so I don’t think I can blame stepdad for this one. Other than him and my mom both choosing to probably leave the leftovers out at room temperature last night for hours, as they both often do, and then put it back in the fridge.

They have a habit of leaving food out on the counter for a LONG time (it’s usually several hours before they refrigerate leftovers), and they had the leftovers last night. Which means that it may have sat out for several MORE hours last night.

Refrigerating (or even freezing) leftovers does not kill any growing bacteria. And after about four hours, those levels can grow to sickening (literally) levels.Between the two nights, plus the time in the refrigerator (which would only slow bacterial growth, not stop or reverse it -- freezing would stop the growth, but not kill the bacteria), I probably should have stopped at Jack in the Box for a burger or something after work instead of eating what I ate.

I had to get certified in food safety when I lived in Illinois in the late 1990s. That certification has long expired (and was only valid in that state anyway).

But...if you ever get certified in food safety, whether for a job or by choice, it’s GOING to make you question everything you eat.

I generally have a good immune system (my hospital stay in early 2018, for those who weren’t following me at the time, was for anemia, not a bacterial infection or anything like that).

But...even I have my limits. Whether it’s food left out at room temperature too long, or whether I caught something from the guest who sneezed a LOT last night, or whether it’s something different...I hope it doesn’t last long.

[wahbegan]

Red’s Retro Reviews - Condemned Criminal Origins

Hello and welcome to the tag where I use my otherwise useless and time-consuming habit of taking very old classic games that I’ve wrung all the enjoyment out of like a troubled child with an injured bird and turn it into entertainment! Maybe one day the editor of some chic magazine will hire me to talk about how much I know about Batman: Arkham Asylum and how much I hate myself for it.

Anyway, this week I thought I’d start off with an overlooked little gem that had a bit of cult notoriety and good critical reception, but which otherwise nobody gave an ounce of rat shit about: the Condemned series. More specifically, the original game.

Now, when I ask you who started the extremely lucrative habit of live-streaming themselves hilariously over-reacting to horror games, you might be tempted to say the Game Grumps, or Markiplier if you’re younger, or Pewdiepie if you’re the kind of person who unironically uses the phrase anti-white racism. But you’d all be wrong and stupid. Also possibly nazi sympathizers, but I digress.

NO! The first college-age white boys who decided it would be a good idea to beam them fucking up a video game to thousands and thousands of people online are..........lost to history because archiving of the exact history of internet trends is such an enormous clusterfuck that for years people were convinced, and some still are, that Slenderman was a real urban legend and not something some dickhead made up for a photoshop competition circa 2009

But ONE of the first was the 4 Players Network, or 4 Players Podcast, or 4PP. I know very little about these guys, so if they all turned out to be nonces and serial killers please don’t @ me, but what i DO know, is that they uploaded a video that changed my life forever. This video was “Holy Crap That’s a Bear !” Certainly not a name that would stand out in today’s massively oversaturated Let’s Play market, but this delightful video documented these two dumb assholes losing their shit over a game. The game of course, being Condemned 2: Bloodshot. Specifically, the level in which you are chased through a hunting lodge by a rabid bear. As an aside, I looked it up, having never heard of the phenomenon, and apparently it’s very rare, but yes bears can and do get rabies, usually with just about as fatal results as you would expect. So sweet dreams!

Anyway, watching this couple of dipshits get jumpscared and mauled to death by a poorly rendered bear again and again as they were repeatedly outwitted at every turn by an entity with a few lines of programming instead of a brain was, in y’know the year 2008,  the absolute most fun a 14-year-old boy could have. Clearly it still is, but you always remember your first time, particularly when the only LPs i have watched since were a handful of markiplier videos with a girl in college who liked to get me very stoned and then put them on because she thought that counted as courtship.

A n y w a y, apart from the unfortunate and definitely a mistake innovation of streaming video games, the sequence of being chased through a claustrophobic environment by a bear which can rip down doors, break through walls, run faster than you, shrug off 15 shotgun blasts to the face without so much as sneezing, etc. seemed incredibly tense and original, an amazing concept for a game. Once again, this was circa 2008 before “Run for your fucking life” had become the norm for horror games.

So then why the fuck are you not reviewing that game?? You might be thinking if you’re still reading this which someone clearly is or my narrative voice would have ceased to exist by now in that tree falling in the woods kind of way. Well, dear reader, while Condemned 2 was better than the first game in a LOT of ways, it’s always worth taking a gander at the one that started it all. Also, Condemned 1 is, if only slightly, probably better known. Also, Bloodshot commits the cardinal sin of over-explaining the first game’s mystery and a result making it kind of goofy and ridiculous see also the entire history of the Halloween franchise, and as a result the ending is....well, a bit shit, to be honest. Finally, and most importantly, it’s not on Steam for 3 dollars, so shut up

The thing about Condemned is that while Let’s Plays and seemingly inanimate objects moving only when you’re not looking at them and unstoppable juggernauts of wanton death have now become the norm for video game horror (and thanks a fucking bunch, Doctor fucking Who, for always being what people say started the inanimate object fuckery even though Stephen King did it in The Shining in the FUCKING 70s and let’s be honest it’s just a primal universal fear and i’ll be in the cold fucking ground before that bloody show sees one ounce of credit where it isn’t due), Condemned as a whole has remained remarkably unique. Not wholly unique, the developers have heavily borrowed from genre-straddling crime horror movies like Silence of the Lambs and Se7en and in fact almost beat-for-beat stole the most infamous jump scare from the latter, but if it still ends with shit in my pants, and it does, I can’t really call it a failure.

Most of the creativity the game DOES have is in the gameplay itself, or rather one aspect of the two aspects of the gameplay. It’s the combat I’m talking about the combat, seeing as that’s basically all there is. Let’s just get this out of the way first, the forensic investigation shit is........well, it’s a bit shit. Oh yes, there’s a couple crime scenes you have to “solve” in a cursory almost a cutscene sort of way, where you have helpful premonitions about where you’re supposed to look and, as your lab tech helpfully informs you, “the system will choose which tool you need for you, so don’t worry about that!” Well, Christ kill me, thank God YOU know between the three fucking tools I have, one of which is an everything sensor and one of which is just a fucking camera which I’m supposed to use, God knows I wouldn’t have liked to have solved that mystery myself. It’s a shame because some of the crime scenes are quite intricate and yes, I would have liked to have put together myself that “wait a minute there’s a handprint in the paint here that matches the killer but the UV light shows an old blood spatter on the wall right above where he’d be sitting to make it, THAT MUST MEAN-” but nope. No you just have a premonition of the guy getting clobbered over the back of the head because the game is so terrified you won’t be able to put two and two together that it points out both the twos and hands you a multiplication table and nudges you and looks meaningfully at four every few minutes if you hesitate.

Anyway, that’s all the whingeing about the gameplay out of the way, because the rest of it is just delightful. Condemned is the rare first person game that focuses almost solely on melee combat and the almost unheard of one that does it well. In fact, it is the only example I can think of that’s not shit. Weapons all have individual stats to do with their heft and how far they can reach and how much of a man’s skull you can cave in at once with it and you have to choose between the plank with nails sticking out of it you can swing three times a second but you have to beat a man so badly with it it’s tiring just to watch and the sledgehammer, which demands a two weeks’ notice in writing if you’re planning on hitting someone with it, but will basically render every living thing in its considerable swing arc sent to the fucking Shadow Realm upon impact.

Something about the sound effects and the way the weapons in this game control really gets under my skin, I was killed by a 300-pound Subway-dwelling crazy survivalist wielding the aforementioned sledgehammer, and when I went down, I was sure I was familiar with the sound effect that played when it struck my skull, a sort of distant, muffled ringing of bone hitting metal. Wait a minute, I thought, I know I’ve experienced this in real life, how did they get this sound effect? Did they kill a man with a hammer to get this sound effect? Was I killed with a hammer in a past life? Killing people is equally fucking unpleasant as even the most vicious and inhuman looking ones don’t go down easily, and you can see them spit gobs of broken teeth and blood and god knows what, hear the lovingly researched impact noises, and almost feel the impact as you necessitate years of reconstructive facial surgery with one swing of your mighty chunk of concrete attached to a rebar. Then some of them have the gall to shakily get to their knees, not quite dead, trying to mumble something and you’re required to hit them AGAIN, which is always harrowing. To quote another underappreciated piece of media about the joys of gruesome murder: Why won’t you just die?! This is hard enough for me!!

The guns you do get are absolute balls, generally having about three bullets in them, you can’t reload them even if you find the exact same type of gun later, you can’t hold them in your inventory, and if you want an aiming reticle you have to actively turn it on in the options menu, and you can almost hear the game laughing at you for being such a shameless pussy.

Well, you now might be thinking to yourself, cheers for making the effort, but I’m not an insane person and therefore do not think the idea of a brutally beating people to death simulator sounds very enticing, but that’s the thing, it’s not really supposed to be. It does have a strangely addictive quality after a while, but for the most part it’s panicky and harrowing and grotesque and you really don’t want to do it but you have no choice, which is absolutely the best kind of survival horror. See, the combat in survival horror is always a bit of a sticking point, isn’t it? Because if you give the player too much firepower it just becomes an action game with spooky set pieces, but if you give them none at all, as is chic today, you better have loads of other surprises in store buddy boy, because the sheen on that trend has died and now you’re just likely to get slapped with the dreaded WALKING SIMULATOR sticker.

No, the best kind of combat for a horror feel is exactly the kind Condemned delivers, so of course they never FUCKING did it again. You leave every fight low on supplies, exhausted, badly wounded, and a bit sick at what you just reduced a human being’s skull to. Too often, the combat in games is, even that word “combat” it’s clean, it’s cold, it’s detached, it’s a very unique euphemism for butchering God knows how many people. I play this little game in my head when I go through games sometimes trying to keep track of how many unique, thinking, feeling entities I’ve just reduced to a mess for the janitor to mop up, and I always lose track around the third level. Condemned isn’t like that. Its violence is violence: horrible, awful, terrifying violence, and it doesn’t let you forget it. 

The graphics also add a lot to the horror if you can get past the dated polygonal weird-ass xbox 360 at launch faces and cutscenes, which is actually pretty easy once you get used to it. The level and character design is fantastic, and really adds a lot to the whole feel of the game. Everywhere you look is dark and labyrinthine, crumbling with rebars jutting out and exposed paneling and plumbing beneath holes rotted in the walls and grime and blood and god knows what just staining everything. This game is really nihilistic in tone, and you get the sense just from the graphics that you’re somewhere nobody gives a shit about, in a part of a city that’s just been left to die and rot. One almost gets the feeling moving around the fourth or fifth condemned (ohhhhh I see what they did there) building that the whole city is just a ghost town full of nobody but violent lunatics, and also that if you keep playing for too long you might get hepatitis just from exposure.

Plot-wise, I could fill another twenty paragraphs with petty gripes. It’s a bit Kill List which i’m sure is a reference you all understand in that it starts as a crime thriller about catching a serial murderer and ends in some bizarre insane bullshit halfway between Hereditary and Hellraiser, and leads you into it gently enough that you never really notice a sudden lurch.

You play as Ethan Thomas, a very boring and generic FBI Agent called in to investigate a serial killer case by two cops who are REMARKABLY blithe about murdering people, and it’s a bit jarring in today’s political climate. Though distrust, fear, and hatred of the police isn’t exactly new, and violence amongst police officers is brought up at one point, albeit in a loading screen, so honestly I can’t be arsed to speculate on what level of self-awareness we’re operating on here. Regardless, it’s bothersome.

“Oh yeah, this place is full of addicts, hopped up on something, I think, just shoot ‘em. What? Lost your gun, eh? That’s fine here’s a fire axe go nuts, kid, we’ll deal with the paperwork later”

Anyway, you are ambushed by a man you believe to be the killer for.......no real reason, really. He was spying on you checking out the crime scene, but we just established this place is full of squatters, what if one of the 8 people I murdered on the way into this ambush was the killer??? Case solved! 

Anyway, needless to say, without wishing to spoil, the dude IS the main antagonist the yellow eyes are a helpful giveaway, and he takes your gun and swiftly shoots Generic Beat Cop and Generic Dick with it, then throws you out a window, whereupon some other asshole whose main role in the game is to be enigmatic and plot-convenient, you know, one of THOSE characters, spirits you away from the scene, making it look like you just killed two cops and fled.

Now, in real life, as we all know, a cop can’t be indicted for murder even if 50 people saw him do it, but in this world, it means you have to go on the run from the FBI (not your lab tech, though, who is somehow assisting you from the lab and sending confidential data to your phone unnoticed??) while trying to solve the murder.

Meanwhile, in the background, in an “I’m sure this isn’t important and will in no way inform the last level of the game going batshit bonkers” kind of way, all of the people, including the cops, in certain dilapidated and neglected areas of the unnamed City City appear to be going what is medically known as balls-to-the-wall kill crazy, and birds are dropping dead from the sky by the thousands. Even you, protagonist, are prone to horrible screaming nightmare visions coming right the blazing blue fuck out of nowhere and that you never feel the need to comment on or go take a lie-down. I’m sure it’s nothing.

The voice acting is what you’d expect from this era of video games i.e. not good and the writing has an absolutely DESPICABLE habit of having characters tell Ethan things he should already god damned well know for the sake of gameplay or exposition, leading to my current theory that Agent Ethan Thomas has some kind of horrible head injury and can’t remember anything from over 2 minutes ago like Guy Pearce in that pretentious movie where he accidentally kills his wife and then runs around for two hours terrorizing random-ass people about it.

The game never full-on plays the AND THE MAN YOU’VE BEEN PLAYING AS WAS CRAZY THE WHOLE TIME card and leaves things a bit ambiguous, but after caving in the 15th vagrant’s head and the 7th vision you’ve had of being murdered by some Cenobite-looking motherfucker while conducting an unsanctioned investigation during a suspension prompted by you presumably murdering the shit out of two guys, you start to think this may not be standard FBI protocol. 

It’s all a bit hard to swallow is me point, a bit hard to sympathize, and a bit muddy if we’re supposed to or not. But you know what? It certainly isn’t boring, and I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t effective. This game is now one of only two to have genuinely given me nightmares, and I think it’s rather telling that after I played the hallucination part I had the nightmare about, I was having genuine trouble remembering if something happened in my nightmare of it or in the actual version.

Condemned is batshit crazy, hilariously easy to write off as “that game about killing hobos”, and very, very dated. But it is genuinely harrowing and unpleasant, and was clearly genuinely made by artists with the intent of saying.....errr i’m not exactly sure what, but SOMETHING! It’s about as far a cry as you can get from the Triple A crawling with microtransactions like your MCM is with crabs milk-you-for-money-until-your-udders-bleed look-at-how-shiny-we-are games, and even a lot of indie horror games who think it’s a measure of a masterpiece being able just to constantly trigger your fight-or-flight response again and again and again so you can make a hilarious Let’s Play out of it not to name any names Five Night’s at Freddy’s. It’s a relic of a different and i think a better time in gaming history, where big-name publishers were still taking chances and hadn’t quite yet worked out the formula for how to distill games into their most skeletal, malnourished, corporate, addictive, glorified gambling form.

Also it’s 3 dollars on Steam and you can finish it in like ffffffffucking...two days? So really why the fuck not. I have no idea how to assign numbers to things i’d probably give ir a 7 or 8 or 4 out of 5 stars but i’m bad at systems like that, just play it if you give a shit. If nothing else, a bunch of people snapping it up out of nowhere will really fuck with marketing, which is always a noble pursuit

[veridium]

dirty little secret

WOAH BOY. I did not expect such a quick turn around, but when you’re writing sweet, sweet friendship, shit happens. thanks to @bitchesofostwick and her fabulous writing that got my gears going.

I have been wanting to use an all-american-rejects ref as a title since we started and now, here I am!

on this episode...Olivia awakens to find Ellinor wearing a strange fleece (HM??). BUT, that is not the only incident that surprises her, as a message left on her door gives her cause for concern. 

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 

--

Her cell phone alarm goes off as it always does on wednesday: 7:30, just enough time to get her shit together before her 10am lecture. However, as she revisits the text she got the night before from Ellinor, it also becomes a beautiful morning for hearing all about her “group project meeting.” Luckily she doesn’t have to travel far, or bother with pants. Wearing an over-sized, old All-American Rejects tour shirt she thrifted a year ago, she fits the bill when lastly she slips on her pink fuzzy slippers -- the only items of her wardrobe she would accept in such a color. She then wanders a few doors down to Ellinor’s and Sera’s room. Sera is gone for a few days on some road trip to one of her many hair-brained destinations, so Olivia has no minced feelings about knocking loudly.

Knock, knock, knock. Nothing.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Nothing again.

“Knock, knock, bitch, get up! We need coffee!”

The door rips open, and a face with slight drool on the corner of her mouth and hair tousled over her eyes appears. But, it’s not her expression that Olivia’s eyes fixate on like a moth to a fleece flame.

A Knight athletic fleece, the expensive one.

“Good morning sunsh--shit, is that…”

Ellinor jerks her chin down, suddenly coherent. Her brow furrows and she whirls around to retreat back into her lair, mumbling things while she lazily swings the door shut. Olivia, of course, slaps her hand on it and waves it open with gusto.

“Ellinor Trev--”

“NO.”

“Is he in here?!” she skips in, looking around in all corners and nooks as if Cullen is compactible like a lawn chair or something. “Oh, God dammit, I never catch your lovers! No fair!”

Ellinor crawls back under her covers and pulls them up over her head. Interestingly, she does not forsake the fleece sweatshirt that has seemed to magically exist out of nowhere.

“Is that his…”

“Mmph.”

“So it IS. You’re a filthy liar! You said you didn’t do anything in your text, I got receipts!” Olivia promptly hops onto the lower side of the twin mattress, curling her legs up under her sideways.

“I didn’t do anything. I meant it. I just...this...it was cold, okay! Why does everyone think I am magically not cold susceptible? I have questionable circulation…” she half-whines the last part, before squirming into her pillow some more like a burrowing naked mole rat.

Olivia hums, not convinced. “You got some explaining to do, and this calls for extra strong coffee. And scones. I want every detail. I’m gonna throw on some sweats or something, I won’t be long.” The casual mood she has yesterday with Cassandra has carried over through a full night’s sleep, and Olivia feels all the pomp and makeup of her typical routine to be unnecessary for once. She swats on the bump in the comforter she suspects is Ellinor’s ass before hopping back onto her feet and out into the hallway. She’ll be back to wrangle her soon enough out of the depths of her ironic despair.

Scooting her poof-slippered feet out into the hall she spots her door half-shut. Only, it’s not her door -- not the way she remembers it, anyhow. There’s...papers? Taped on it just above the doorknob. Posted notes and event reminders aren’t exactly unheard of in dorm halls, but as she walks she scans the other shut and locked doors -- nothing. Just hers has stuff on it.

When she arrives she yanks off the posted paper and notices some hastily copy/pasted clipart of some crosses mounted on a hillside. Her stomach churns as she reads the message. It’s a pamphlet-esque flyer asking the reader if their soul has been saved, and if not, resources in order to accomplish that. On the back there’s a scripture excerpt as the header, and then a list of every Church in the city limits with their contact information and addresses. It has the design skills of a 4th grader who’s project is due the morning after and all they have to use is Microsoft Word 2003.

And on the very bottom, handwritten for that special touch: “For the Slut in 21C.”

She looks both ways down the end of the hall and sees no one lurking, though the hair on the back of her neck stands up. The faces of those Church preps that pouted at her when she was on Cassandra’s bike pop into her head. Oh, it would be an interesting coffee sesh indeed.

--

What had originally been intentions to come outside casual and no muss, no fuss, turned into a black knit oversized sweater dress, thigh-high black velvet boot stilettos, and loose curls with a full face of sharp makeup. She looks like an insta model out in the light of day instead of in her cardboard box, but it is better this way: people don’t fuck with her.

They get their coffee downtown and walk out onto the sidewalk. She has class in 30 minutes, anyway. Ellinor is holding the flyer in her hand, though it’s bent outta shape from Olivia’s wrath.

“I don’t know, Liv. It is kind of concerning that they know where your dorm is. Isn’t that a hate crime if it’s targeting a member of a targeted group?”

“Biphobia getting treated as biphobia instead of ‘free speech’ discussing sexual behavior that both straights and gays sneer at? In this economy?” Olivia slips her own shades on and shoves the forsaken paper into her bag. “And besides, my dorm is easy to find out. All they’d need is one person to see me walking in, or one person who lives in the same hall as me.”

Ellinor slurps her hot matcha latte and hands it over to her, before pulling her aviator shades down from atop her head of a loose braid crown. She slides her arm through the second shoulder strap of her backpack.

Olivia is steeping. On the surface she looks straight up pissed, which is intentional. But deep down she’s nervous. This was more than she signed up for.

“What are you going to do then? It’s obvious this has to do with you hanging out with her. This is bullshit. if I was there when those punks came into the dorm, I would have shoved my timbs so far up their pastey Jesus mayo asses that….that...gah! Just really far, okay?” Ellinor grumbles and sips as they near the corner. She hasn’t had enough caffeine yet. 

Olivia veers to the left and punches the crosswalk button. She reaches into her back searching for her keys as she spots her black mini cooper parked on the curb a block from them.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do! I feel like I’ve become this Scarlet Letter for something I haven’t even done. It’d be different if we had actually, like...did stuff. But she is so prim and…” the crosswalk signals walk, and they push onward. “She goes from this super interested and focused person to hands-off and out the door faster than I can get my eyeliner wings to match.”

Olivia walks faster as Ellinor hones in on the passenger door facing the curb. “Woah that’s...that’s pretty fast.”

“You think?” Olivia faces her over the car hood as she hits the car alarm button, making the headlights flash. She unlocks fast and eyes both ends of the street for surveilling gazes before sliding in.

“At least with Cullen...” Olivia tries to keep her conversation going while settling in, tossing her bag over her head. She slides her key into the ignition and checks her mirror. Ellinor slides her drink into the center console and pulls her seat belt. She’ll need it -- Olivia has a love of driving, and that love translates into speed and mastery of a stick shift.

“At least with Cullen, what?” Ellinor replies, dreading it already.

Olivia bites her lip and eyes her. “You know...at least…” she slumps forward against her steering wheel. “At least you know what his intentions are...I mean, were, for you. He was pursuing you. He wanted to do...to do things with you.” Her tone has gotten less spirited and more melancholy. Enough for Ellinor’s initial defensive pouty face to melt into sympathy. Though, Olivia worries if it’s less sympathy and more soreness at being reminded of what she tossed up.

Dammit, Liv, she thinks to herself. Ellinor isn’t as tough as she plays.

“Well...I think she really does like you,” Ellinor comforts after a pause, her gregarious personality trying its best to rally.

Olivia twists the key to start. The engine grinds and then starts with ease, and she clutches the stick shift with her manicured hand covered in black, dramatic rings on almost every finger.

“I know she likes me. What I meant was, like...you know.”

“You said she asked if she had another...didn’t she call it a ‘shot’ or something?”

“Yeah, but, I don’t--”

“Liv, I don’t know anyone who would ask if they could be friends with someone by asking if they had another shot. Remember how we met?”

Olivia looks at her windshield and snorts. “Yeah. You asked if I had time to talk about our Lord and Savior Gerard Way at a freshman ice cream social of all fucking places. Then I sat on my retainer.”

“Hah,” Ellinor sits back, elbow on the door. “Exactly. Not ‘Do I have a shot?’”

Ellinor, in her particular brand of eloquence, has a point. Cassandra is one of the most intentional people Olivia has ever met. She doesn’t even sneeze out of line. And she doesn’t strike Olivia as the kind of person to sit idle while the things and the people she wants float on by. But, there’s something still hanging her up on it all. An unspeakable hesitancy that comes from having one foot in and one foot out the door.

“I just wish she like...did the thing.”

“Thing? What thing?”

Olivia pulls the car into gear and puts her hands on the wheel, staring out her side mirror for oncoming traffic. “You know, like, there’s a thing queer people do when they want to drop their queerness on the radar. Say you loved the new Hayley Kiyoko single, or...shit, like, you went to Pride last summer and had a blast. Something.”

“Cassandra Pentaghast at Pride? Even if she’s 1/24th lady-lover, dude, I doubt she’d be down.”

“Yeah because that’s how it works, Ellinor,” Olivia chuckles and pulls into the lane, clutches and shifts into gear again as she accelerates. “It’s just like...okay, you know what I mean. Something. Just a little tidbit. Like...letting me go home with a fleece sweatshirt.”

She only has to side-eye her once to see Ellinor’s cheeks go deep with blush, her lips rolling shut.

Olivia raises a brow and adjusts her large, round black sunglasses. “Mhm.”

“Look, I said what I said. It was cold.”

“Fine, fine. I’m only holding off on hounding you ‘cause I know you have to see him again. I can almost see his face watching you leave with it. Ugh, good shit.”

Ellinor slaps her on the arm before grabbing her drink. “It wasn’t like that, dammit.”

“Not when you were looking it wasn’t,” Olivia continues to tease in that sultry tone. “But…’as she walked off, her figure becoming shapeless in the dark and only traceable by lamp light, I knew that she took a piece of my with her...a piece, of fleece…’”

“GOD you are HORRIBLE!” Ellinor’s laugh gets louder the longer Olivia does her act. The ‘poetry recitation’ voice Olivia does is too good, too pure even in its mortification. She laughs, too, as they turn onto the boulevard which will take them directly to campus.

“You talk a good story for a cynic,” Ellinor settles down, resting her knee against the door. The woman can’t sit right in any chair to save her life.

Olivia smirks as she turns her signal on, the car arriving at the light before the campus entrance. “My Mom had those movies on all day when I was a kid, okay. I internalized that trash in between Blue’s Clues episodes.”

“Ugh, I forgot, my bad.”

They pull in and drive past all the pretty red brick building tops, and people walking with backpacks on the sidewalks or running with shorts and tanks on. Olivia notices a jogger weaving through the pairings of people walking to class and she remembers the way Cassandra looked on the soccer fields, back when she was just a tall, dark, and beautiful stranger she could pretend was all these things. Never could she have foreseen this all unfolding, but a part of her misses when it was all a mystery. When it was a mystery, she could believe that Cassandra was for sure into girls. Now, she is attached to finding out the truth, and the truth might not be so kind.

They pull up into one of the Blue parking lots and by some miracle, someone is pulling out in time for her to snag the spot. She turns in and puts it into park.

“Tits up, girl,” Ellinor sighs, grabbing for her things as Olivia turns the key back, the engine going quiet. They both adjust their bras on cue at her word.

“You’re hiding that fleece in your backpack, aren’t you?” Olivia eyes the bag, a little swollen in shape.

Ellinor glares at her. “No.”

“Ellinor,” Olivia giggles, as she pulls her drink up out of the cupholder. “You don’t want to give it back. Admit it.”

“I admit…!” she looks away for a moment and composes herself. “I...am not the owner of this garment, and I will not be keeping it. It was borrowed. I said I would give it to him during class.”

“Mhmm,” Olivia hums again, reaching for the door. Before she does, though, Ellinor is not done with her side of questioning.

“You gonna tell her what happened?”

“Why should I? What is she gonna do, challenge all the preps to a duel on quad? It’s not gonna change anything. Don’t tell Cullen, either. I’m gonna...handle it. It’ll be fine.”

Ellinor rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m not any of your horoscope apps, but the Cassandra I saw last night staring down a guy stick up for someone she barely knows, seems like the kind of person who’d like to know if people are messing with her girl.”

The phrase ‘her girl’ makes Olivia’s stomach erupt into butterflies, and she blushes and looks away towards her window. Thank goodness for giant sunglasses.

“This isn’t High School. I’m not ‘her girl,’ I’m her friend. And a friend who could quickly turn out to be more work than she wanted to deal with when she realizes all her peers want to burn her at the stake.”

“Over my dead body,” Ellinor says, before grabbing Olivia on her forearm as she tries to get out for the car. “Hey, I mean it. If it’s not Cass, it’s me grabbing a crowbar, alright? Just say when and where to aim.”

Olivia looks back at her and her lower lip curdles. “Aw, Ellinor…” she tilts her head, “you do have affectionate emotions….?”

Ellinor quickly scoffs and pushes her. Back to normal in an instant. They get out, and Olivia locks the door. Slinging her bag on her shoulder she looks around again, slightly paranoid despite her cool exterior. No pastel polo shirts and no french braid pigtails. No woman in a black long-sleeve with pants and a pixie cut. For once, she’s relieved on both fronts, and walks with Ellinor down the way towards their respective lecture halls.

On the way, OIivia elbows her in the shoulder, a sly smile on her black lips. “Thanks, babe.”

--

Later that day --

-- Hey, you didn’t say whether you’d come with to the gala next weekend. I need confirmation!!

-- Ellinor: I can, but I’m not going to! You already have someone who can go!

-- That is the opposite of what I have! I’m not inviting her. Ughhh don’t do this to me I’ll cry.

-- Ellinor: [Kim Kardashian Tragic GIF]

-- You’re the worst. How did Cullen act when you gave back the sweater?

✓ READ AT 4:12PM

If she weren’t in the library, she would have screeched like a harpie. As it was, she was not in the place or the time to do so, so her catharsis would have to wait. She shoved her phone in her bra and goes back to collecting her arms worth of books. They aren’t for her this time -- a Professor she’s TA-ing for wanted to scan and make copies of chapters for students, and asked her to do it while they...well, do Professor things.

Such as TA’s did, and Liv being a TA as a third year undergrad was an esteemed vote of confidence she did not shirk.

She comes around the aisle she’s in and decides to cut through to the stairwell. She’s down two floors from the ground level where the checkout desk is, a level that separates the boys from the men in terms of archival dedication. She balances the six or so books of varying densities, wondering how close they are to weighing the same as her.

Around another corner and she comes upon a cluster of single-seat study desks -- you know, the kind that only libraries have, with soft wood and worn out, grey-blue upholstery. A couple heads bob up from their stationed spots at them and she pays them no mind. That is, until she sees a blonde head. Blonde, wavy head.

“C...Cullen?” she says, and is promptly shh’d by someone else. Cullen himself looks up from his desk and laptop, and grins.

“Oliv--” another shh, and he gives them a pointed stare of come on man, before pushing his chair back. “How you been?”

She bobs from foot to foot carrying the stack in both her hands. “Uh, good! Good, just, doing some TA work.”

“Oh, nice. Cassandra mentioned you TA for Professor...uh, their name esca--”

“Erickson. Professor Erickson,” she smiles. “Just for the intro to political and economic theory classes. It’s not a big thing.”  It was and is a big deal. The Political Science department has a huge group of grad students who could TA or assist courses, and they often do. Taking in an undergrad for a TA position meant that undergrad could do the work they did with Bachelor’s degrees, and sometimes even Master’s degrees, under their belt. Her parents didn’t stop talking about it like that for a month after she was invited by Erickson to fill the position. Though, they made it more pompous-sounding than she would have liked.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know. Cassandra is the only other undergrad I know who TA’s.”

“She...she TA’s?”

He looks at her and his brows go together. In a sort of, ‘yeah, of course’ kind of way. Like she was supposed to know that.

“Uh, yeah! In Philosophy, I think.” Figures. The woman breathes and spews philosophy and english lit fervor like Shakespeare has used her for a horcrux. It’s...annoying. And...wonderful.

“Ah, yeah, I think she mentioned that,” she lies, and tucks hair behind her ear while balancing the stack nervously in the other arm.

“You uh, you need help with that?” he gestures to get up, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No, no,” she replies, smiling again. “It’s fine. I need the conditioning for dance, anyways. How is your group project going?”

He grins and looks back to his desk, blinking fast. He shouldn’t have to say, she already knows. But, it’s the kindness that counts. “Oh, yeah, it’s going good. Group projects, you know. They...they are what they are.”

“Yeah, but, at least it’s with Ellinor right? It’s always better with…” she catches herself, bits her smiling lip, and looks away too. Damn, didn’t think that one through.

“It’s better with people you know, right, I gotcha,” he finishes and puts her out of her misery. He’s a good guy -- he doesn’t let anyone hang out on a limb by themselves, even if he’s a bit awkward in his solidarity. It’s easy being in his presence despite the underlying melancholy.

“Yeah, right! Sorry, my head is fried from today. Look, don’t be a stranger. Come by anytime.” she sounds like she has a house with a picket fence and not a hole-in-the-wall dorm room. The olive branch didn’t fit the ecosystem.

He smiles crookedly and nods. “For sure. Yeah. You have a safe walk back with those books.”

“Oh you know, what’s a fall down some stairs?”

He chuckles and waves his hand casually. “Whatever you say.”

She waves back and sees herself off. A couple yards away from him and she spots the staircase, she reaches in her shoulder bag while keeping her eyes on the sign that says “TO LEVEL B,” feeling for her phone and attached headphones. The papers and pack of gum get shoved in and out, and the smooth plastic of her case finally turns up. She yanks it out before the stack of books in her hand fall apart. The sound and sensation of something falling behind her to the ground pries at the back of her head, but she ignores it -- the books are heavy, and the stairs are gonna be a pain in the ass, and that pain will pale in comparison to copying individual chapters 40 copies each.

She reaches the checkout desk after a grueling journey up two flights and through another plethora of shelf rows. While catching her breath against the desk, she checks her phone. A new message sent 15 minutes prior.

Cassandra: Hey. I’m going to be grading practice midterms Friday afternoon at my TA office in Henderson Hall. I thought maybe you would have a similar workload? Want to keep each other company?

Keep each other company. How sexy. Had she said she TA’d, and Olivia just never caught that detail? That would have been something she’d remember. Oh, wait, they were talking about course-loads at one point during a walk to classes...oh, shit, that was the day Cassandra wore a blazer and took it off as she was walking and was so smooth while doing so and...and...oh. God, Olivia is too bisexual to function.

She looks up and scans the room, her gaze out of focus while she thinks. No, she has no reason to! She can deny her this once, what, does she come at her beck and call now? She has no work to do anyw--

Her email ding goes off. It’s Professor Erickson:

Hi Olivia,

My mother is in the hospital and we are heading out of town to see her. I know it’s short notice, but could you grade the stack of bibliographies in my inbox before Monday and hand them out on that day’s class? I promised the students. Just markup for Chicago style and make sure they have the 3 required sources and 2 outside, and nothing looks iffy. I’m going to cancel Friday’s class.

I might be out until middle of next week. Monday is just a hand-back day, so don’t worry about keeping them entertained after they get their work. Play a movie, maybe. Nothing too radically bootlegged, please.

Don’t worry about the chapter copies. Those aren’t needed until next Wednesday, and if you can’t get to them I will finish what you don’t. Good job today by the way explaining to that one student the difference between socialism and democratic-socialism. You are getting more concise!

Thanks!

E

Sent from my Iphone

Professors. The nerve. They emailed on phones even when it was a long-ass message, and yet threw fits when students didn’t title their emails with anything less than an oath to name their firstborn child after them. Erickson wasn’t that bad, though. A fun guy -- a bit too into loafers -- but a fun guy, and amazing Professor. And she was getting paid, which helped.

She rolls her eyes closed and groans so deep the poor library work study student flinches. She looks at them apologetically before turning her attention back to her phone.

-- Hey. Sure, but I can’t stay very long. What time?

Cassandra: Cool, no worries. Say around 6?

-- Yeah, that works. Henderson is that long building by bio sciences, right?

Cassandra: Actually, it’s the one to the left of quad. Big archway entrance. I’ll be at my desk in 10E.

Olivia sighs. Great, a big building on quad. In front of everyone. Open season continues for her. 6:00pm on a Friday? Why that time? Surely if they were exams they were not going to be handed back over the weekend. Did Cassandra have a life that wasn’t work, sport, and more work?

-- Right, I forgot. Whoops. Okay, see you then!

Cassandra: Awesome. See you. 

Cassandra: Oh, also -- this song came up on my shuffle. It’s an old one, but it’s Adele. I would appreciate if you listened to it. I think you’d like it.

Another chance for a ‘sign’ thwarted. As promised, she sends the link to a song and it is, in fact, Adele. Adele. Olivia pouts to herself. Adele is a beautiful singer, but her songs tend to sound the same to her sometimes. One of those ‘you listen to one, you listen to them all,’ kinda deals. The song is entitled “Water Under The Bridge.” Olivia had hoped it would at least be one of the romantic ones, but it hardly sounds like a profession of love or crushing. Her frustration continues to grow in her mind, and she clicks her phone to lock. 

“Alright, Ma’am, that’s it! They’re due back October 7th!” The woman on the other side of the table shoves the plastic bag of books. What a blessing to have them in a bag. She smiles, says thanks, and heads out the door into the open air of dusk. As she walks back to Jefferson Hall a few minutes away, she can’t help but look over her shoulder ever so often, hand clutching her keys in her bag. But, no one approaches or even appears, and as she gets in the door to her own academic building, it feels like it’s all in her head.

It’ll blow over. No big deal. Just have to pretend it doesn’t bother me.

She gets into the elevator and hits the #3. Thankfully, she, too, has an office to hull up in.

[fradoutvimer1976-blog]

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[katrandomtiger]

Glass Knives Ch5

A Hitman 76 and detective Reyes fic.

Read it on AO3

October 4th, 207X – 19:30 – Watchpoint Apartments

Gabriel swore as he dug through his couch cushions looking for the cellphone which was currently screaming for his attention. Short glowered from his perch on the back of the armchair, he was very displeased with being removed from Gabriel’s lap.

“Reyes,” Gabe managed after finally managing to recover his phone.

“Hey Gabe, it’s Jesse,”

Confusion flickered across Gabriel’s face as he repositioned himself on the couch and patted his lap. Short ignored him but Gloria came trotting up to claim the position.

“Hey Jess, what’s going on?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you that the FBI wants me out in D.C. in about two weeks. Figured you’d like the warning that you’ll need to find a new partner to pick on soon.”

Gabriel smiled, “That’s great! How’s your mom taking that?”

“Well, uh, I haven’t told her yet, you’re the first one to know,” Jesse chuckled nervously.

“Jesse.”

“Look, Gabe, I’m just worried how she’s going to take it. You know how she gets about law enforcement, especially the FBI.”

“Have you at least told her you got in?”

“I…”

Gabriel sighed and rubbed the side of his face, “Jesse you need to talk to her. She’s your mom, I doubt she’s going to throw you out just because you’re moving up in the world.”

“I- I just don’t want her to be afraid of me,” Jesse finally whispered.

Gabriel’s heart dropped at those words. He knew that Jesse sacrificed a lot when he became an officer but to think he was thinking that his own mother would be afraid of him turning her in…

“Jesse,” he started, “If your mom can beat the shit out of five rival gang members twice her size with just an iron skillet, I highly doubt she’s going to be afraid of her incredibly capable, loving, and loyal adoptive son going into the FBI.”

Jesse chuckled at that.

“And unless you’re going to tell the government about the best places to buy meat in the desert, I don’t think you’ll really be telling them anything they don’t already know.”

“You’re right. Thanks Gabe.”

“Tell me how it goes, ok? If you don’t show up to work tomorrow I’ll know.”

Jesse laughed again, “I’ll send you a text that I’m alive, alright? Talk to you later…hopefully.”

And with that he hung up and left Gabe in the silence of his apartment. The sound of Arashi ripping out of the parking lot across the street was the only thing to disturb the peace.

Carefully, Gabriel slid himself out from under Gloria and headed into the kitchen where he grabbed a beer and a pack of cigarettes off the counter. Unable to stand the silence that permeates every inch of his apartment, he steps out to the terrace and falls into the chair he dragged out there ages ago.

The town provides the noise he needs as he pops the top on the bottle in his hands. He blissfully falls into the monotone noise and environment around him.

It’s times like this that he misses the chaos his daughter used to cause with the cats. She used to go flying through the house with the feather chaser and Short hot on her heels. Gabriel would forgive a hundred broken glasses just to hear her laughter again.

Gabriel lets out a smoky sigh and sinks further into his chair. Old grief and anger threaten to surface again.

“Long day?” came a gruff voice from the neighboring terrace.

Gabriel tensed before reorienting himself, “You could say that,” he replied, not even bothering to glance over at the source.

The warm chuckle he received sent shivers down his spine and was enough to turn his head towards the voice. What he saw looked more like a miniature garden than a shitty apartment terrace. How long had it been since he was out here?

“Nice garden, planning on feeding the entire complex?” Gabriel quipped, earning another laugh.

A pair of broad shoulder and greying blonde hair became visible as the man stood up and moved along the planters, not bothering to face Gabriel, “Well, my ma made me learn how to grow herbs in planters before she ever let me go to college. Guess it’s just a habit now.”

Gabriel snorted, “I hear that. My dad is a five-star chef and he made damn sure that I knew how to cook for myself before I could even be home alone. He didn’t want me to end up like my mom.”

“Oh god, my grandma and mom both taught me to bake when I was little. My dad wasn’t entirely hopeless but grandma always told me that he was her greatest failure.”

Gabriel turned more to face the man and watched with interest as the muscles in his back worked over the plants. There was something familiarly alluring about him.

“Where are you from?” Gabriel asked after a few more rounds of trying to one up each other on family skills.

“Everywhere, I haven’t really stayed in any one place for a long time. I was born and raised in Indiana though, if that’s what you’re asking,” the man said before turning. His glasses sat skewed across a scarred face and his smile was lopsided, “How about you?”

A moment passed as Gabriel stared into the face of his would-be killer and the prime suspect in his current investigation. Cold fear shot down his back, replacing the warm familiarity, and he carefully stood up and bolted back into his apartment.

“Shit. Shit. Shitting fuck!” he growled as he yanked his jacket off the back of the armchair to search the pockets for his pistol.

Gloria and Short went skidding down the hall as he loaded the gun and went to grab his phone. Where was it? A sinking feeling came upon him as he peeked out the door and saw 76 standing with his phone in hand. The hitman tapped at the glass and made a confused gesture.

He aimed his gun at the glass, 76’s eye’s widened and he vaulted back over onto his own terrace once more. Gabriel listened to the footsteps cross the apartment before abruptly stopping. He waited.

A few minutes passed before scratching on his own door took the detective’s attention from the wall. Cautiously, Gabriel made sure the chain was hooked and cracked the door open. Nothing was there. He stepped back and opened the door as far as the chain allowed but he still didn’t see anything.

“Wha-“

‘Boof’

Gabriel spun around with his gun raised only to be met the soft brown eyes of a golden retriever. He watched in disbelief as the dog wagged her tail and laid down by his feet. Slowly he crouched down and gave the dog a tentative pat before spinning her collar around to reveal the name ‘Lucy’.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Gabriel whispered as he let go and slid down the wall to join Lucy on the floor.

Time passed at an unbearably slow paced, Gabriel strained to hear the footsteps next door start again but nothing came. At some point is hand wandered to the scruff of Lucy’s neck where he began to absentmindedly scratch as they waited.

After what felt like hours the footsteps started again. Gabriel jumped to his feet as the door to the neighboring apartment opened and closed. He braced his back against the door frame as the footsteps stopped in front of his door.

“Can I have my dog back?”

Gabriel blinked and looked down where Lucy was still laying, her ears stood up but she made no move to stand, “Uh, no?”

The door rattled as 76 tried to open it, “I’m not leaving until I get my dog, Reyes.”

Fear numbed his legs as 76’s pleasant tone from earlier lost all inflection and emotion. Ill thought out bravery tore the words from him mouth before he could stop them, “Why? So when I open the door you can shoot me again? No thank-you, jackass. Lucy is my dog now!”

A startled bark of laughter caused Gabriel to jump and tighten his grip on the gun.

“Dude, just crack the door open, let her out, and I’ll leave. Jesus Christ,” 76 snorted, the life returning to his voice.

Carefully, Gabriel cracked the door open and glanced out to see 76 standing in the hall. His hands were empty but it didn’t mean he was unarmed nor that he couldn’t just over power the detective.

Reports of hitman taking out small SWAT teams without any form of firearms were rare but not unheard of, in fact one of the handful of reports were from Soldier:76 himself.

“Don’t try any shit,” Gabriel growled before opening the door on the chain and looking back at Lucy. The dog glanced up at him and yawned before rolling onto her side, “I think your dog is broken…”

“Lucy, come.” 76 said, peeking through the crack in the door.

Lucy sneezed.

“What a well-trained dog you have here 76.”

The hitman glared at Gabriel before trying a whistle command, “You know I could just grab her…”

“Nope,” Gabriel yelped before slamming the door closed, “My dog now, I guess.”

“Reyes-“

“Nope.”

The silence from the other side of the door was deafening to Gabriel. He shifted his weight back and forth waiting for the hitman to make a move, a noise, anything.

Finally a sigh and a thump came from the door, “Fine. I’ll leave if you get her out.”

“Only if you go back to your apartment,” Gabriel relented, “and I want my phone back too.”

Something hit the floor before his phone slide under the door and between his feet. He listened as uneven footstep made their way down the hall. Gabriel waited a moment before cracking his door open and peeking out into the empty hall before holstering his weapon.

Taking a shaky breath, he walked to where Lucy was still lying and gently started to half-drag her to the doorway. Gabriel stumbled over her as he got to the door and listened for any activity before unlatching the chain.

Gabriel had no time to process as the door slammed into him and sent him to the floor. Fear froze him where he fell when the barrel of a large gun came into his vision. His life flashed before his eyes and he said his prayers-

‘Thwack’

He looked to up in disbelief as a foam dart bounced off his forehead and onto his chest. 76 laughed and lower himself over Gabriel so they were face to face, a nerf gun was grasped lightly in one hand.

“Wha-what the fuck?” Gabriel managed.

76 cocked his head to the side and confusion crossed his face once more, “What? I already got to kill you once. I mean, you’re still on my hitlist but I also don’t give a fuck right now.”

Gabriel gaped at the hitman as he stood and whistled a different command, Lucy immediately got up and trotted out of the room.

“You planned this.”

76 smiled, “Actually I didn’t, but it was fortunate you dropped your phone. Well, fortunate for me anyway.”

A feeling of dread deepened in Gabriel.

“It saved me a lot of time of trying to track down all your friends and family.” 76 began to walk out the door as he spoke before turning in the doorway, “Good news for you though, as long as you keep your mouth shut we should have no problems, right, Gabi?”

With that the door shut leaving Gabriel alone in the quiet of his apartment.

[inspirationalvideoboundless-blog]

Feel the POWER of POSITIVE thinking - How To Let Go of Negativity and BE HAPPY 😃 Get Good Health

Power of positive thinking Make Positive Thinking A Lifelong Habit for Good HealthWe hear so much about eating healthy, exercising regularly and avoiding lifestyle choices like smoking. While this is certainly good advice, we don’t hear as much about our patterns of thinking and attitude towards life. However, it’s a fact that your psychological outlook can have a dramatic effect on your overall health and longevity. Have you ever noticed that people who perceive the proverbial glass as being half full seem to enjoy life more than their neighbor who sees it consistently half empty?The power of positive thinking cannot be underrated. Remember Eeyore, the famously depressed and negative-thinking character in the Winnie the Pooh stories? Poor Eeyore always saw the worst case of any situation. When faced with the possibility of a negative outcome, Eeyore would immediately embrace that negative outcome as the only possible result.If you instead embrace positive thinking and a good result, you’ll be surprised to find how often that becomes the case. It has been argued in medical circles that up to 90% of disease has psychological origins. A famous medical study in the 1940s found that women who were depressed were much more likely to be diagnosed with cancer at some point. This is food for thought for all of us.People who actively practice positive thinking are far less likely to become ill and are generally happier than those who make it their habit to find and cultivate the bad news in any situation.Next time you feel as though you’ve caught a chill and are headed for a bad cold, try this positive thinking exercise. First, assess your facts. You were out in the cold and got damp and chilled. Sneezes ensued. OK, but it doesn’t necessarily follow that you’re doomed to a week of blowing your nose and feeling miserable. What can you do to ward off the bad effects of your chill? 

You can get warm and cozy, take a big dose of vitamin C and settle back with a cup of herbal tea and a good book. Don’t even think about coming down with the inevitable cold. Take care of yourself, stay warm and mentally give that cold the brushoff. You’ll be astonished to find how effective a remedy positive thinking is.Positive thinking habits assume the best, not the worst. Let’s say you’re interviewing for a new job. Don’t be like Eeyore. Your negative attitude will show. The prospective employer will see your lack of confidence and your no-can-do posture as a negative communication. How will such a person fare when faced with a challenging deadline or major decision? Eeyore won’t get the job.Forming the habit of thinking positively is one of the best actions you can take to improve your overall health. Your mind is a powerful ingredient in the recipe for good health!what is positive thinking?Positive thinking is a process of controlling your mind through mental visualizations, mental affirmations, focusing on your good attributes, drawing upon your inner powers, and developing a confident and optimistic thought pattern. Positive thinking is an approach to life. It’s a way of living your life in confidence and victory, rather than feeling overwhelmed and defeated. We all face troubles. Positive thinking does not deny that in our lives there will be trials of all sorts. Positive thinking says that we will not be defeated by these trials. Think of how easily we can become over-wrought by our circumstances. The more we dwell on the misery the bigger the problem grows until it has become huge and gained momentum. By keeping our thoughts under control, and emphasizing either our assets or the up side of a situation, Norman Vincent Peale in his book, The Power of Positive Thinking, claims we “will rise out of any difficulty regardless of what it may be.”Also, when you believe in God, you have His mighty power to draw upon. As Pastor Rock Dillaman of Allegheny Center Alliance Church in Pittsburgh often says, “You plus God equals A Majority.” And the Bible asks in Romans 8:31, “If God be for us, who can be against us?”The same power that God used to create the universe is available to those who believe in Him and spend time in His presence. A bible verse that helps me in times of serious trouble is Isaiah 41:10:So, do not fear, for I am with you;Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.I will strengthen you and help you;I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. It’s not unheard of for me to mentally recite that verse dozens of times a day. This verse reminds me that God is with me, and He is mine. His precious words tell me He will give me the strength I need and help me, and His mighty hand will be there to support me and bring the right outcome to pass.Is positive thinking easier said than done? Being human is not easy. But what seems to be tremendously easy for humans is letting our minds wander down the path of despair and helplessness. Our minds seem naturally bent toward the negative, so we must make a conscious effort to be positive. To battle our fears and insecurities we must attack them with thoughts of confidence, faith and security.My favorite author on the topic of positive thinking is Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. Much of what I’ve learned from about turning fear and defeat into confidence and triumph I did indeed learn from his many books, articles and booklets. Here are ten suggestions from Dr. Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking to boost your positive thinking process:Develop a positive mental picture of yourself succeeding at whatever challenge(s) you are currently facing. Hold that picture. Your mind will seek to develop the picture into reality.Negative thoughts will pop into your head. Be prepared to counter them with positive thoughts.Sometimes we blow obstacles or challenges out of proportion, and we must deflate them in order to see them for just what they are. Do not allow your fear to inflate them – work on inflating your confidence instead.Please don’t ever waste time comparing yourself to someone else. Every person is unique, and no one on earth will be as good as YOU as you can be. Focus on your good attributes, and work on developing your weaknesses into strengths.It may help you to repeat ten times each day, from Romans 8:31, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”If you are really having trouble gaining control over your thoughts, it might be worth your while to see out a professional counselor to help you discover and disarm the origins of these deep-rooted feelings.Also repeat ten times a day, from Philippians 4:13, “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.”Develop a wholesome self-respect. Consider your abilities — humbly and honestly acknowledge the level of the abilities you have been given, then up that estimate by 10% for good measure.God’s power is available to all His people. Draw upon that power. Put yourself in His capable hands and believe you are receiving all the power you need to adequately meet all of life’s demands. Truly believe your power comes from Him.Know that God is with you, and NOTHING can defeat you. God alone is sufficient to meet your needs.But there’s another aspect to this concept of positive thinking. What we think about tends to happen to us – we attract it to ourselves. Our thoughts are extremely powerful. In the book, Your Subconscious Mind, author Joseph Murphy explains that when we plant seeds (thoughts) in our subconscious, our incredible brains work to make those thoughts a physical reality – whether the thoughts are good thoughts or bad thoughts. The subconscious mind accepts all thoughts. It does not throw out the detrimental thoughts and hang onto the beneficial thoughts. It keeps them ALL without any argument. And the subconscious mind is very sensitive to suggestion, so be careful what you feed your mind. Murphy further explains that the subconscious does not pick and choose, it merely takes what it is given. Then the subconscious works to bring these thoughts to pass. Work harder to control your thoughts. Murphy profoundly suggests that by controlling your thoughts, you control your destiny.God offers a suggestion in Philippians 4:8, “Whatever it true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.” Clearly God knew our thoughts would cause us trouble and that we must discipline them. If thoughts don’t measure up to the standards of Philippians 4:8, get rid of them immediately.Along these same lines, another good book is David Stoop’s You Are What You Think. He equates our thoughts to the way we talk to ourselves. He calls it “Self-Talk”. In essence, we talk ourselves into things. We determine whether we are going to have a good day or a bad day by the conversations we have inside our heads. He also suggests that we must guard our minds and watch what we think. Stoop remarks that the events in our lives do not dictate our feelings, emotions & behavior – our thoughts dictate them.Want to change your life? Control your thoughts. Want today to be different from all of your yesterdays? Then think differently about today. Is it easy? No. Can it be done? Absolutely! You have a choice. After all, they are YOUR thoughts.Have you taken control of your thoughts? Can you share ways which you’ve found it possible to keep negative thoughts from your mind, or replace negative thoughts with positive thoughts? Please leave a comment that will be helpful to others.Do you have a specific question on this topic? Please ask and I will try to help you make a difference in your life. http://www.you2repeat.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://www.ezlooper.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtubeonrepeat.com/watch/?v=xfSMidgou74 https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtubeloop.net/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=xfSMidgou74 http://endlessvideo.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://loopvideos.com/xfSMidgou74 http://loopthetube.com/#xfSMidgou74 http://youloop.org/loop.php?v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtuberepeater.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://www.yourepeat.com/watch/?v=xfSMidgou74 http://www.vidtunez.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 HOW TO BECOME WELL-LIKED BY OTHERS – Part I Here’s an easy way to get started if your quest is to become a person that other people like. First, remember people’s names, and use them. People like to hear their name. Are the same people always working at the security desk in your office building, or at your bank, or the grocery store, or the dry cleaners, or the hair salon, etc.? If so, find out their names, and say hello to them by name. Maybe you are lousy at remembering names. Well, if you want to be well-liked, you are going to have to find ways to get good at it! For example, keep a small notebook with you. Write down people’s names: Dry Cleaner – Sandy Security Guard at Office – Bill Hair Stylist (or maybe your barber) – Chris Mailman – Randy Neighbor with cute, little dog - Barbara Now that you have them written down, you can either memorize them while visualizing the person’s face in your mind, and/or keep that notebook handy, and just before you pick up your clothes at the cleaners, find “Sandy” and make sure you give her a warm hello when you see her. Don’t underestimate the value of remembering and using people’s names. It means a lot to someone that you remember them – and that they are worth remembering. It’s a real boost for their self-esteem. And, don’t be offended if they don’t remember your name. Take the opportunity to reintroduce yourself. Next, here’s an even easier thing to do: Think good, kind, warm thoughts about people. What you think in your head and your heart will show in your words and attitude. So, when someone comes to mind, try to think of at least one of their good qualities – something you like about them. In order to be liked by others, we first have to like people. And this must develop into a sincere liking because people can easily spot or sense a phony. We should like people just because of who they are, not because there’s a purpose to liking them. If liking others doesn’t come naturally to you, it will become easier the more you practice. If you take a positive attitude toward everyone, it will become a natural way of life for you. And you will find that one day you wake up, and because you have genuinely liked people, they have certainly grown to like you in return. Now let’s get more challenging. My next suggestion is to develop a genuine interest in others. Ask people about themselves; don’t make the conversation all about you. This involves getting your mind off yourself and focusing on other people. Remember the hair stylist (Chris) or the neighbor (Barbara)? Next time you see them, if the opportunity presents itself, sincerely ask them something about themselves. It doesn’t have to be personal, and it shouldn’t be in the early stages of friendship, but it should be genuine interest on your part. If you think you aren’t good at small talk, this may take some practice as well. Think ahead about what you might ask your stylist as he/she works on your hair: “How long have you been a stylist?” “Where did you go to school?” “How long have you worked in this salon?” Here again, people want to know that they are worth knowing – that others find them worth talking to and getting to know better. As you get to know people better, you can ask more personal questions such as, “How old are your kids?” and “Where do they go to school?” The conversation should develop comfortably over time until you actually have a friendship, albeit quite casual, with a new person. Only a special few friendships will develop into deep friendships. Most will be acquaintances, and those are good too. Treat others well, respect each one as a person, and you will be well liked by others. Building others up is another great way to become a person other want to be around. Everyone wants to feel good, and they want to feel important. A few kind words go a long way to elevating someone’s self-respect and contributing to their feeling of personal worth. Congratulate someone on their achievement, thank them for their kind or prompt service, compliment them (sincerely), acknowledge how hard they are working or what a great job they did. Boost their ego – everyone loves it especially when they know someone meant it from their heart. Another way to build others up is by helping them accept who they are and helping them to be their best. Short people want to be taller, tall people want to be shorter, fat people want to be thinner and skinny people want to put weight on. People spend a great deal of time trying to be like someone else, or trying to be something other than what God made them. What a gift it would be to help someone see the benefits of being exactly who they are. They are unique in this world – there’s no one else like them. Encourage people to be just who they are, with their own personal style and without the need to be like others. Help them be comfortable just as they are. Here’s another idea: Let other people have the spot light. Let’s say someone in our group tells a joke and everyone laughs. That person feels really good that they made others laugh and they got a bit of attention. But, if I laugh and then say, “Oh, I heard that joke on the radio yesterday morning,” well, not only do I look like a jerk, but I make the person who told the joke feel small. You don’t have to be the know-it-all, and you don’t have to be the center of attention. Give others that opportunity, and make them feel good about it in the process. Now let’s explore something that’s even harder to do: be likable. Doesn’t it make sense that if you want others to like you that you should be likable? But some people don’t easily see it. If you are abrasive, egotistical, grouchy, irritable, or easily annoyed, who will want to be around you?   https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&app=mobile https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&app=desktop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&hc_location=ufi https://youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&app=desktop https://youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/watch?feature=youtube_gdata&v=xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74?version=3 https://youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/embed/xfSMidgou74 https://youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74?app=desktop https://youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74 https://youtu.be/xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=youtube_gdata https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=youtu.be https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=share https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=kp https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&app=desktop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtube_gdata&v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtube.be&v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74?version=3 https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74&feature=youtube_gdata https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74&feature=youtu.be https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74&feature=share https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74&feature=kp https://www.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/embed/xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74?app=desktop https://www.youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74 https://www.youtube.com/attribution_link?a=xfSMidgou74&u=watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=share https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&feature=youtube_gdata https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=xfSMidgou74 https://m.youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74 https://m.youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74&app=desktop http://youtube.com/watch?v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/watch?feature=youtube_gdata&v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74?version=3 http://youtube.com/v/xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/embed/xfSMidgou74 http://youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74?app=desktop http://youtube.com/e/xfSMidgou74 https://youtu.be/xfSMidgou74 Develop an easy-going personality. As my daughter would say, “Don’t get your underwear in a wrinkle.” Foster within yourself a spirit of humor and goodwill. Make it a pleasant experience for others to be around you. Next suggestion, show concern for others and be helpful. People have needs and problems. Think of the people in your life: customers, students, clients, parishioners, patients, family members, neighbors, etc. View them as people who could use your help. Respectfully, try to help them solve their problems. Some people don’t want to be helped, that’s for sure. But those who truly want a solution to their problem will be very grateful to the person who provides that solution. With understanding and patience, serve others through whatever it is that you do, and help them to the best of your ability. We already touched on being a likable person – consider taking that further – become an up-beat person! You can be an inspiration to others by remaining calm and cheerful in nearly all circumstances. Also, you can be an inspiration by letting day-to-day petty or unpleasant occurrences bounce right off you. You can point out the up-side of situations. You can be the “glass-is-half-full” person. As you may have gathered by now, becoming a person that other people like to be around isn’t about you at all. It’s about other people. We must forget about our own need for attention and focus our attention on others. That’s the primary concept – forget yourself, think of others. Here’s a summary of the techniques discussed: Remember names and use them Think good, kind, warm thoughts about people Develop a genuine interest in others Build people up – make them feel good about themselves Let others have the spotlight Be likeable Show concern for others and help them Become an up-beat person If you would like greater details about any of these suggestions, or need help implementing them, please go to the “About” page for this blog and contact me directly. Please feel free to comment on this post or on successes you’ve had in becoming a well-liked person. Remember to practice liking people until it comes naturally. Resources: Peale, Norman Vincent. The Power of Positive Thinking. First Fireside ed. New York