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jokes for adults with answers - win

AITA for not wanting to "twin" all my outfits with my sister?

My (26F) sister (24) told us 5 months ago that she's trans (MtF). She got hugs and support from me and mum, dad was "shocked and disgusted", but came around when he saw how much happier his child is as a woman.
We both had to move back into our childhood bedrooms within 2 months of each other last year (bad breakup & redundancy), it was actually kind of nice.
Until Christmas. We always got perfume/cologne from mum. So this year she asked if Jess wanted specific perfume. Jess said she'd think about it.
Later she asked what perfume I wore. I told her my favourites, let her try some. she gave mum a list of the perfumes she'd tried. only those.
Fair enough, it's a bad time to touch the same tester bottles as everyone else. So you'd pick something you've tried.
And same when she did it with my makeup. She wanted to buy my favourites, but okay, they're my favourites for a reason.
less okay when she started borrowing my clothes. I wear a 12, but the few clothes she's bought have been 18-20. She's 5'10, I'm 5'2. So clothes fit differently. I said so when she took my jeans (without asking), came into the living room in tears because they're small. She called me an arse, that I was saying she's "manly" and "fat". She ripped the zipper when she took them off. They were £75 jeans, I yelled at her.
Dad told us to stop arguing, we could each have £100 to buy new clothes, that i should show Jess where I like to buy stuff.
Cool. Free money, new clothes. Jess said it would be fun to do thesame sites at the same time so it would feel more like a shopping trip.
I went to the petite section. Thats what fits.
"The whole point is that we use the same page. Go to regular stuff." Fine. I find a top I like, it has an option for a size that fits, I add it to the cart. Jess adds the same one, in her size. Item 2, same thing.
I jokingly tell her she's allowed to pick what she likes... and she blows up again. Dad asks what all the shouting is about, Jess says that I don't really see her as a sister, that I'm disgusted at the thought of "wearing the same clothes as a tranny" (again, never thought that and would never call her that!), but I don't get a chance to speak before Dad tells me he's disappointed in me.
this morning and she tells me she has a surprise.Not only has she ordered her stuff, she added my sizes to the order too. Oh, and a handful of stuff that I already own, in her size.
And not "white t-shirt, dark jeans", she went on Ebay and found an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt I bought in 2013, where I did, and put 2 pins where I have 2 pins. She doesn't like Arctic Monkeys. "I just thought, it be great to be twins? You have such great style, it's a compliment."
I told her we're not 10. A couple things sure, but not everything.
Dad agrees with Jess, that I'm being petty.Mum says Dad feels bad about how he reacted when Jess came out, he's being unfair.
AITA for wanting my own style?
Edit 1: I'd misgendered her at the start of the post in an attempt to explain that she's come out recently. I've reworded that on advice that there are easier ways. It's all quite choppy because of word count.
Also an IRL friend has suggested a clothes swap and already has 5 people who are up for it if Jess wants, including one who is her size and leaving the country soon, so she's happy to give her 90% of her wardrobe, without it being too impersonal (still a curated wardrobe in a similar style to me and Jess). I've had suggestions to do a "just for you" shopping day, where I add what I would want to her cart, but only in her size, and tell her exactly why I like it. She's out for a walk with my dad now, but I'll update again tonight or tomorrow with her thoughts.
Thank you for all the insightful comments, including (and perhaps espexially) the YTA And NAH comments, its helped me find better ways to approach this with her.
Edit 2: so there's been a lot this evening, pretty much all good. Dad and Jess were gone for ages, and spent that time having a long talk about everything. Lots of stuff that isn't mine to tell, but the general stuff is that Jess finally called him out for how awful he acted and he's finally apologised properly.
While they were out my friend who's moving soon came by and dropped off two suitcases worth of mostly summer clothes she won't be able to wear before leaving. She promised there's even more and apologised for not having much that can be worn now, but she'll go through stuff in the next week and bring warmer things. Which is so sweet. She told us to wash it all before going through it, just in case (germs, plus it's all been in bins under her bed for over a year), but we waited till Jess got home so she could at least look at it briefly.
She was SO EXCITED, it was honestly the cutest thing. Our washing machine is the standard tiny European thing that doubles as a dryer, so we couldn't do everything tonight, but we found the warmer looking stuff and a few tops Jess recognised from the friend wearing them, and that went in first.
Dinner was still kind of quiet and awkward, just the thump of the washing machine and mum trying to make small talk every few minutes, but after dinner Jess asked if I still wanted my makeup done (she's got so good at doing Makeup, and offered to do mine for a Zoom date I'd scheduled). I told her I'd cancelled my plans because I really wasn't in the mood, and she suddenly looked so broken, like she realised just how upset this is all making me. She asked if it was her fault, and I told her it wasn't, that I'm stressed in general and this is just contributing (true, I have a stupid amount of work to do and my new boss enjoys impossible deadlines). I asked her if we could talk, and tried to explain why I don't want her to wear the exact same thing as me. She actually listened. Looked like she was going to interrupt to tell me why I'm wrong a couple times, but didn't. She apologised for ruining my clothes order and my jeans, and told me she'd pay for it when she can. I suggested we put that money toward the personal shopper idea instead, and explained that idea, along with the clothes swap with the other girls, and subscription boxes a few other people mentioned.
She didn't like the idea of an in person swap too much, and admitted that she feels like our friends are just being polite but don't want to be around her anymore. She says they've done absolutely nothing to suggest that, but because she hasn't been able to see half of them in person since coming out, it feels like a personal snub, no matter how irrational. Some more talking later, that's been somewhat resolved by asking the girls if they wanted to do weekly zoom hangouts that eventually turn into in person stuff every week. Not everyone's responded yet, but it generally seems to be posite answers or "my schedule is hectic but ill try to make it most of the time", which I've reminded Jess is normal, if anything they're more committed to this than past plans.
When the conversation kind of naturally ended she said she was exhausted and wanted to nap, but I told her it was too late for that (it was like 8, she can't get to sleep if she naps after 5), and suggested we watch a movie until her clothes were dry.
So we did that, then she tried on the clothes, and almost all of it actually fits really well! Some of it is too big or small, and a few things were hilariously dated (turns out our friend is a bit of a hoarder. We found some of those weird skirt trousers that were last cool 10 years ago that we're pretty sure she wore the whole summer before she went to uni), but overall 90% of it is genuinely really nice, and Jess says she'd wear most of it and feel comfortable. So that was really fun, but it's been a long day for everyone, and about an hour ago mum said she'd had enough and was going to bed, and told us to be quiet or sleep. So Jess said she'd go to bed too, I've been sat with dad watching the news and thought I'd update.
There's not much more to say...
A few people asked about Therapy: she's on a waiting list, but they've said probably not until April. She's also really not looking forward to it, because she had a psych evaluation before they agreed to give her HRT, and she felt they were quite mean and didn't listen, wanted to wear her down until she decided against HRT..I wasn't there so I don't know if it was really that bad or if they're just required to ask really tough stuff, it didn't seem like my place to tell her she's being dramatic or whatever, if she's uncomfortable that's valid. But we can't afford private therapy anyway, so she has a little while to get used to it. She's already asked mum to go with her to at least the first session and mum promised she'll be there if it's allowed, so that's good.
Other people have pointed out that a lot of her behaviour was probably due to the mood swings and basically second puberty that come with HRT, and yeah, that all sounds pretty accurate. I didn't bring that up today because there was enough to chat about on top of that, but I'll definitely keep it in mind when I'm frustrated that she's done something seemingly just to annoy me. I think I was being quite patient if this was just a case of "your siblings is being weird" but probably quite cold for "Jennifer has no idea how to do any of this and has just come to terms with a lot of this stuff in the middle of an unusually awful year, so there's a lot she can't do that would normally make this easier". So I'm.going to make an effort to remember that she's an adult woman is a body she has to fight to keep female, and side effets include acting like a preteen.
There's not much else to say, thank you to people for the little award things, but I don't plan to use this account for anything else, and there probably won't be anything else to update, so I don't really need more of them.
Thanks everyone for the advice!
submitted by dicecat2 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

AITA for refusing to talk to my brother because he told my girlfriend no one cares about her OCD?

I (22M) have been dating my girlfriend Quinn (21F) for just over 3 years. I love her more than anything and plan on marrying her (hopefully in the near future).
We moved in with my parents this summer because our lease was up, and this way we could see them safely. My parents and sisters love Quinn; she's a naturally charming person and made a strong effort to connect with my family. The only exception is my brother Ryan (17M).
Ryan has never really liked Quinn. He's always been polite to her, but doesn't go out of his way to get to know her the way the rest of my family has. Quinn will try and have a conversation with him, but he just shrugs her off. I've tried asking him why he doesn't like her, but he's never given me a real answer.
A few weeks ago, Ryan had some friends over for his birthday, on the same day Quinn had an appointment with her psychiatrist (she's been having very intense intrusive thoughts lately). His friends like me, so I came down to the basement to play some video games with them and just hang out for a while.
While I was down there, Quinn came down and started telling me about her appointment, and how she had gotten diagnosed with OCD. I thought it would be weird for Ryan's friends to hear, but they seemed genuinely concerned and even asked her a couple questions about OCD. While Quinn was answering, Ryan interrupted her and said, flat out, "no one gives a fuck". I got upset with him and he tried to play it off as a joke, but Quinn was visibly hurt by his comment.
She and I left, and once Ryan's friends had left, I told Ryan he owed Quinn an apology. He insisted he had nothing to apologize for. I decided if he was going to be rude to my girlfriend, I wasn't going to speak to him. I've been ignoring him since, because he hasn't apologized.
Ryan complained to my parents, who now have been asking me to let it go. My dad went as far as threatening to kick me out if I don't start talking to Ryan again. A couple family members & family friends have also gotten word of the incident and most are in agreement with my parents. However, I don't think I'm TA here, because I feel Ryan owes Quinn an apology for what he said.
EDIT: I forgot to mention that Quinn has said that she would like an apology from Ryan, but is willing to drop it. She doesn't want to cause a big fuss over it, as she hates conflict.
EDIT 2: Adding this a few days after posting because I don't think I'll do an update. Thank you all for your responses, a lot of the polite comments were very helpfully and much appreciated. As for the people making gigantic leaps and calling my girlfriend an attention stealing drama queen, or saying "girls like her are more likely to cheat", etc: thank you for reminding me why you should take Reddit's opinions with a grain of salt lol.
No one else in my family has ever had any issues with Quinn; if they did, they would've said something (we're an opinionated bunch). Her OCD doesn't show up in daily life in a way that affects Ryan (or anyone else). I spend a good amount of time with my brother, and I've never wanted him to feel like Quinn was "stealing" me from him, so always made sure to hang out with him everyday. The party happened a few days after his birthday, an entire day where the focus was 100% on him. Also, maybe it's just me but I can't see how this scenario is in anyway similar to announcing a pregnancy at a wedding, but some of you really clung to that comparison.
Quinn has met his friends multiple times, they like her, and IMO saying "turns out I have OCD" to someone on the edge of a group while everyone else is on their phone/talking to each other doesn't quite qualify as revealing extremely private medical information, but everyone has their own opinions.
I talked to Quinn about what happened, and told her I thought we could both apologize to Ryan for interrupting his party and not being the adults in a situation where we should have been, which she agreed to. I will be honest, I was disappointed that we were apologizing before he was, but I'd rather lose some pride than lose my brother.
We apologized, and Quinn said she'd be happy to stay with a friend for a weekend if Ryan wanted to have a guys' weekend with me and his friends. I also told him that we'd be moving back out soon, so he'll get the house to himself in a month or two. He took it well, accepted our apology and apologized to Quinn. Even though it was a bit obvious he didn't fully mean it, I'm just glad we can put this all behind us.
submitted by waterbottle331 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

AITA for telling my sister she needs to move on from high school and get a life?

I know it sounds bad at first but hear me out. My sister (20F) finished high school three years ago and I (18F) am in my last year at the same school. It’s been three years and she still hasn’t gotten over finishing high school.
I think she had a bit of a nervous breakdown when she graduated, which my parents and I genuinely tried to help her with. She was distraught, crying all day and making herself physically sick because she didn’t know what to do after high school. She couldn’t function properly for about 2-3 months, my parents were worried about her hurting herself since she had done that in the past.
It sounds like another case of peaking in high school but in reality she has never peaked anywhere. She was an anxious nerd in high school with a small group of introverted friends. She was never involved in the school’s leadership or anything that would indicate a love for the school.
She now goes to one of the top universities in the country but she still hasn’t moved on from high school. I have even caught her unironically singing the school song in her bedroom. I don’t understand. I’m going to graduate this year and I can’t wait to get the hell out and actually live my life.
She’s meant to be an adult now but she acts like a loser teenager. She doesn’t have a job; she lays around all day sleeping and playing the Sims. She doesn’t clean her room or shower for weeks at a time. One time she didn’t brush her hair for 2 weeks and my mum had to cut out the knots. She doesn’t do any housework. She only has about 2 friends and they barely even want to hang out with her. She’s even scared to go into bars, not that she has any friends who would go drink with her.
My parents have split up now and I believe a large reason for that was the arguing she caused. If she had just grown up and been a normal adult, there wouldn’t have been all that conflict. She never washed the dishes or cleaned her room and that stressed out my parents so much.
Yesterday I went into her room to ask her if she was coming to visit our dad that weekend. Instead of just answering and letting me go, she decided to show me a stupid tiktok she found. It was some dude joking about how life is all downhill after high school. That sent me over the edge of my patience and in my anger I told her that she was a loser who needed to move the hell on and get a life before she ends up a miserable old spinster.
Now she won’t speak to me. My mother says that what I said was a perfectly fine wake up call but I still kind of feel bad. She looked pretty angry when I said that to her and she hasn’t avoided me this much for a long time. I don’t think that apologising will do anything.
TDLR: My sister is a mess who can’t move on from high school, I told her that she needs to move on and get a life. She’s giving me the silent treatment now.
submitted by kafhithrowawayaita to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

DC: Batman DOES attract criminals to Gotham... on purpose

One of the biggest fan criticisms of Batman is that he ends up making his own worst enemies, and draws villains in towards him like a magnet. It's gotten so big that even the movies and comics mention it. The Joker even says that the only reason he's there is because of Batman, and that he's like "a dog chasing it's own tail". All of that serves to make Gotham even more dangerous than it might be otherwise.
Batman knows that he's a magnet for supervillains, which he does in order to gather them all in one place.
Imagine that you're a regular cop in a random city, let's say St. Louis, and all of a sudden, a lunatic with clown face paint uses a chemical gas on hundreds of civilians. You'd be panicking, and have no clue what to do. But for the Gotham police, that's just Tuesday. They get so used to supervillains being around that they start to develop procedures for specific villains. It also means that villains don't have shock value on their side. By consolidating all the villains in one area, and working with the police, Batman can create one, specialized force to deal with supervillains. If he weren't around, all those criminals would disperse across the country, to attack far less prepared cities.
It also gives Batman a chance to do the same. We know that he has contingency plans for all of the villains, as well as having developed ways to neutralize a lot of them. He gives himself shots that lessen Scarecrow's fear gas, creates pesticides specifically for Poison Ivy, etc. The Injustice comics start with the idea that the Joker decides to go after Superman instead of Batman. In one fell swoop, Joker manages to trick Superman into killing both Lois Lane, and his unborn daughter, as well as triggering a nuke in Metropolis, wiping out the city. Remember, that wasn't a Joker with extra powers, or increased planning. That was just Joker dealing with someone besides Batman. It's easy to blame Batman for dealing poorly with the Joker, when in reality, he's actually one of the few people capable of understanding Joker well enough to counter him.
In addition, having those supercriminals there helped to make the GCPD less corrupt. When Batman first arrived, they made a point of showing that Jim Gordon was the only good cop, with maybe a few others. Now, it's flipped. Sure, they have a few dirty cops to spice up a storyline now and then, but most of the time, GCPD is efficient and above board. That's because someone like the Joker or Bane isn't going to bother trying to bribe anyone, and if they do, it's part of a mind game that will end up with that cop dead. The only one who did so was the Penguin, who had been a mob boss long before Batman ever showed up. It also makes crooked cops less likely to want to be in Gotham. Before, you could have a job with almost zero risk, that paid a ton. After, you were in a ton of danger, getting paid very little money. The only people actually willing to work that job would be those that legitimately believed in it.
Villains also tend to be extremely egotistical and territorial, causing them to spend much of their time attacking each other instead of civilians. Think about all the different grudges they hold: Harley Quinn is obsessed with killing Joker, which Poison Ivy wants to help her with; Penguin has a score with Catwoman over the jewels she stole from him, etc. The War of Jokes and Riddles even focused exactly on that, Joker and Riddler collecting armies of villains to fight each other over who got to kill Batman. While there were civilian casualties, there were far less so than if those same armies had just decided to take over the city, which they easily could have done.
Finally, it also gives villains a chance to direct their hatred at Batman himself. He's willing to sacrifice his own well being to be their target, their punching bag. Imagine what Riddler could do if he wasn't obsessed with sending Batman notes about his crimes in advance, or if Joker just decided to poison the reservoir without driving around in a giant clown shaped boat? Their obsession with Batman causes them to do their best to destroy him, distracting them from their vast, untapped potential for chaos. Riddler even tells him that "I keep you alive for the same reason that we all keep you alive. You're that first riddle you hear when you're a child. That you return to as an adult, though you know the answer. You're not a challenge. But you're fun." In some dark, twisted way, all of Batman's villains need him, as a focus for their anger and violence.
Batman is well known for making some... dark decisions. The man created elaborate murder plans for all his best friends, as well as his adopted children. He often makes decisions that would seem immoral for any other hero, but are necessary in his eyes to prevent a greater evil. He collects dozens of villains who otherwise could be extremely successful, and lures them in to Gotham. That way, rather than having tens of thousands of potential deaths, millions of dollars stolen or destroyed, and entire cities wiped out, the damage can be limited. Gotham was already a crime filled city, and Batman's villains actually ended up inadvertently helping with some of that, taking out mob families, and helping clean up the police. In Batman's pragmatic eyes, it was the perfect solution: The world stayed safe, and Gotham was already bad enough that it didn't matter much (and actually made it a bit better in some ways).
TL;DR: Batman knows he draws villains into Gotham, and is OK with that, because by concentrating all the villains in one spot, he can limit their damage, and spare the rest of the world.
submitted by EquivalentInflation to FanTheories [link] [comments]

Recap: Becca on Blake's podcast

Okay so I attempted to start this earlier today but I was having trouble with hiding the episode recap section as a spoiler, so we're going to just omit that section. Summary: I am all aboard this ship. They are laughing/giggling the ENTIRE TIME and you can tell they have been in frequent contact.
submitted by jhaz622 to thebachelor [link] [comments]

I was kicked out of home at 17- here’s three things I wish I knew first:

So for reasons I won’t go into, I was kicked out of home at 17 and absolutely could not go back; this post is a bit long but I hope it helps someone. So, without further ado, here are the three life skills I wish I’d learned before that happened.
​
How to manage money:
This one is important and it can be the difference between you eating and not eating. If you find yourself on your own without a plan, an unexpected bill can really mess you up. I was hit by one not long after my 18th birthday when my car blew up and I basically didn’t have food for four days. Don’t be me, learn from my mistakes.
This is the system I came up with after that and it hasn’t failed me since:
  1. Write down all your bills (other than rent) such as phone, internet, electricity, car insurance etc. These will all be billed at different intervals so break them down into weeks.
E.g. if your internet is $40 per month, that’s roughly $10 per week.
Once all of your bills are in weeks, add them up to figure out how much money you need to put aside per week to pay them. If you are paid weekly, great! Put that amount aside in a bank account called _BILLS_ as soon as you get paid. If you are paid fortnightly, double it and do the same thing. It’s not rocket science, but it works.
  1. Rent! No one wants to be homeless, so this is pretty damn important. Honestly, I should move it to #1 but I’m lazy.
Same as BILLS, put this aside in a bank account called RENT as soon as you are paid. If you are paid weekly, put one week’s worth aside. If you are paid fortnightly, put two weeks worth aside. You get the picture.
Note: there is an added bonus to doing it like this. If your landlord ever tries to say you missed a payment, you have all of your dated transactions in one easily searchable account. One of my landlords once lost a week of my rent and tried to bill me for it a second time. With good records you can tell them to go fuck themselves take a hike.
For both RENT and BILLS use automatic transfers or direct debits where possible. They make life easier, save time, and you’ll never miss a payment.
Money Part 2: Electric Boogaloo
Now that you’ve done that, you have an idea of what’s left over after you get paid. We aren’t done yet though. You don’t have a savings account or an “oh fuck” account. Let’s fix that.
  1. Oh, fuck: your crazy housemate pissed in the fridge, slashed your tyres, and what’s worse, drank your milk without replacing it. Jokes on them though, you pissed in the milk first. Still, what an asshole.
However it happens, sometimes shit just goes wrong. That’s when you need an Oh, FuckTM account.
Look at any weekly expenses you have left, these will most likely be groceries and petrol/gas plus a few other random things. Total those up and use them as a baseline to give yourself a weekly “wage”. Anything above this, put into your Oh Fuck account until you have enough to last a couple of months if shit really hits the fan.
Now that you’ve done that, never touch this account unless you really bloody well have to. Have it with a different bank if necessary, and definitely do not have a card linked to it. This is your lifeline, don’t waste it on a bloody sofa (or a clean one, for that matter).
  1. You thought we were done? Haha, nah fam. Being an adult is long and tedious. Next up is SAVINGS. Once you have gotten your Oh Fuck account to an acceptable level start putting most of your excess here instead. This is the account you will use for new shoes & clothes (you fucking Diva) or luxuries like entertainment and other non essential items.
It’s okay to spend from this account where necessary, but for any bigger purchases wait a week or so and see if you still want it. People have shit judgement when they impulse buy, and statistically you and I are no different. Yay?
  1. General Account: this is the account you get paid into, and the account you weep over as you transfer away bills, rent, savings, and Oh Fuck money. The only money you want in here is your weekly wage (mentioned above). If you don’t get paid weekly and tend to eat into next week’s wage, consider keeping next week’s wage in your savings account until the new week. Anything left over at the end of the pay cycle should be moved to Savings or Oh Fuck depending on what you’re trying to build up.
  2. Bonus: this isn’t a big one, but I like it. Every time you want to order takeaway, cook instead and earmark the money you would have spent as guilt free you money. It adds up surprisingly quickly and you can use it to buy things that you’ll enjoy more in the long term.
​
How to cook (properly):
This one should be obvious, but eating out is really expensive long term. If your parents are any good at cooking, ask them to teach you before you move out. The earlier the better, trust me. I was half decent, but I wish I’d learned a lot more.
If they aren’t, the internet is an amazing resource. I recommend buying one GOOD knife rather than a set of knives and some stainless steel pots. Treat them well and they will last you forever. Non stick are convenient, but you can say goodbye if a metal utensil even looks at them funny. Hot oil in a hot stainless steel pan = non stick anyway.
General cooking tips:-Onions and garlic are you friends, they are cheap but make things taste less poor.
​
No one cares about you (and that’s a good thing)
Hear me out here. I was so self conscious when I first moved out of home that I was terrified of looking like an idiot. I never had a dad so I put off buying fucking shaving cream and a razor in case I got the “wrong(?)” ones and the clerk thought I was stupid or something. Speaking to my female friends, they detailed similar stories about buying feminine hygiene essentials. Plot twist: outside of a few friends and family members no one gives a shit about you. The Clerk will forget you exist after about five minutes, and if your friends give you crap you can just get better friends.
I know this one is easier said than done, but try and keep things in perspective. What’s the worst that could happen? Usually it’s actually nothing. They don’t care if you buy shaving cream or pads, and if someone thinks you look weird crawling around for a good photo, fuck em. Your photos are probably better than theirs anyway.
​
So uh, yeah, that’s it. Those are the three things I wish I’d known before getting kicked out of home: no one cares about you, cooking is good (and might even land you a girlfriend/boyfriend), and managing money is important. Who’da thunk it.
​
Edits:
I'm really glad this seems to be reaching the people who need it, or will need it. I just came back to 300+ comments so do forgive me for answering some common questions here:
Where are you from?
Here I was thinking that all the swearing would have given me away. Maybe I should have said brah or cunt, but I tend to avoid the latter since it is an absolute cunt of a word. Anyway, If you ask that I'll have to hand you a Vegemite sandwich. Don't tempt me, its a national sport for us.
Are you doing better now?
Yes, thanks for asking! I completed my university studies mid this year whereupon I graduated into a global pandemic. Or didn't, since we weren't allowed to have graduations... Still, I'm proud of myself.
How will cooking get me a girlfriend/boyfriend?
Worked for me. I had a housemate going through hard times so I always "accidentally" cooked extra so she could have some. She knew I was full of it of course, and she still does. Worst comes to worst, you can have a nice meal to cry alone over just like old times. Basically, no warranties, guarantees or batteries included with this one.
Can I share this?
By all means, I wrote this to help people so feel free to spread my profanity far and wide.
submitted by just_fucking_write to teenagers [link] [comments]

Lost in translations

The human gazed at the aliens around him and knew, just knew, he was in a LOT of trouble.
They were not much to look at. Small. Furry. Possessing faintly rodent like features. Their powerful hindlegs had them leaping quite large distances. When humans first encountered this species their initial impression was of some kind of hybrid of Kangaroos, harvest mice and Hobbits.
Their gentle and passive nature and their habit of communal sleeping had led humans to call them ‘Dormice’ out of affection.
The human wanted, very much wanted, to go back home and inform his fellow humans that this was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
The Yucani did not appreciate the term. The Yucani did not appreciate a lot of things. Mostly, right now, this group of about 400 of them did not appreciate him.
Their angry chirps and trills grow in intensity as they hopped angrily around him. Younger males would seemingly leap towards him at high speed, before landing close with a furious hissing noise. While the human could speak Yucani, he could barely understand them as they trilled so quickly. He held up his hands in what he hoped was a universal sign of surrender.
The human may not have been an expert on Yucani culture, but he was fairly sure he knew what a lynch mob looked like. The mass of small creatures had cornered him against a wall and continued to gaze at him balefully. Each passing moment they seemed to increase in anger, in their aggression, in their potential for violence.
A stone slammed into the wall besides him.
Three things happened immediately. The human saw the stones arrival seemed to give the Yucani the idea that this was a brilliant innovation.
Oh crap! They are going to stone me!
The largest Yucani in the mob, stood about seven feet away from him, suddenly removed a vicious looking knife, with a long serrated edge.
It’s gonna stab me!
And a roar of a Yucani constabulary patrol ship suddenly was heard, its distinctive sound causing many of the small creatures at the back to turn their heads.
The police! They’re gonna save me!
As the vechicle moved closer, more and more of the mob heard it and the human was very relieved to see that they didn’t start picking up rocks and the one with a knife, his large brown eyes filled with fury and rage, slowly returned the knife back to his clothing.
The craft landed, and six Yucani got out; their green uniforms were armoured, which made them look actually impressive (the human had long ago realised that only the larger members of the race were ever chosen for their constabulary).
They slowly hopped towards the mob, who had now turned and were trilling and squeaking in high pitched tones towards the newly arrived officers.
The human gulped down a breath of air. The sense of relief and gratitude he felt was immense. He was saved. As the officers made their way towards him, the crowd parting, he felt his legs go weak. He wanted to collapse. But he managed to hold it together long enough, to offer a grateful smile as one finally made his way towards him, dividing his fellow Yuanci like the Moses before the Red Sea.
“I am very happy to see you,” says the human, smiling down at the Yucani constabulary officer. It responds by removing a short grey metallic pole and jabbing it into the humans leg.
Pain. SO much pain. A searing, agonising, exploding pain that begins in his leg and races through every single nerve cluster in his body. The human convulses and screams, his bladder empties and he almost instantly drops into unconsciousness from the agony. He falls into a crumpled heap against the wall. The Yucani officer, ignoring the little cheer that had began from his fellow species, gazed down at the human with contempt and spat.
Two months later…
The young human, manacled and bound is thrown into the small conference room the aliens had built for this meeting. His eyes glance up and fall upon the first human face he had seen in many weeks.
“Oh God, thank you. Are you here to save me?”
The other human was in his fifties; his eyes bore the look of a man who had seen many things, perhaps too many. His suit was well made, sensible, if not slightly on the conservative side.
In response to the question he smiles gently and says, “Kid, I’m fairly sure only God can save you. But I am here to try and help with the mess you are in.”
Relief, mixed with wild joy fill the prisoners face. The younger man spots a chair to sit in (the room had the familiar setting of two human shaped chairs and a desk between them), and falls into it in a heap, his manacled hands landing heavily upon the table.
“Oh, thank you! You need to get me off this planet. The conditions I’ve been kept in have been awful. I am totally isolated. A hole in the ground with a large vent in the ceiling. They throw food down to me. The place stinks.”
The older man raises an eyebrow, “That’s good. You getting off lightly.”
“Lightly? The entire thing stinks like a sewer.”
“That’s because it probably IS a sewer,” shrugs the older man, reaching for a briefcase by his side.
“What?”
“Yucani prisons. They don’t incarcerate anyone but worst offenders on their world. The closest they have to prisons are specially made sewers.”
“That’s…”
“Tell me, have random Yucani been coming along and urinating and crapping into your cell as they pass?”
“What? No. That’s horrible.”
As the older man places his briefcase upon the table between them, he smiles a cold, tight smile, “The Yucani word for ‘prisoner’ literally translates into English as ‘Eaters of Our Shit’. I think the fact that they are throwing you human food and not pissing on you qualifies as light treatment.”
The younger man’s jaw just drops. A stunned look of absolute horror crosses his face. The older human uses this as an excuse to open his briefcase, remove a heafty file in a manilla cover out (it lands on the table with a satisfying heavy sound), closes the briefcase and places it on the floor besides him.
“Are you from the Embassy?”
“No. I just arrived in-world an hour ago. Four days at warp. My guts feel mushy.”
“Oh. Are you a lawyer?”
“I afraid not. Formally the excuse the Embassy will give you is there are no humans conversant in the intricacies of Yucani jurisprudence to be able to offer effective advice. Off the record? No lawyer in the entire solar system would touch your case. So, they sent me. I’m a specialist.”
“What in?”
“Apparently being human,” says the older man, who opens the folder and begins scanning the pages underneath. The younger man is too confused to say anything which suits the older one just fine. He glances up into the scared eyes of the prisoner.
“Andrew Montgomery Eversham, born 2118, Britain. British? Should have figured. Father was an engineer on Ares station, mother was… French. Well that explains much.”
“What does my mother have to do with anything?”
The older man gazes him up and down and asks, “Only child huh?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Thought so. Right, Mr Eversham. Do you know what they are charging you with?”
“No one has told me anything at all. I was performing, and the next thing I know I was being chased by a mob of angry Dormice, and then one of their police…”
“Yucani. Not Dormice.”
“What?” Eversham’s eyes widen, and he nods, “Yes, right. I know. I figured that out. But you know its just us here.”
“Saying Dormouse to describe a Yucani is like being home and using the word ‘Kike’. It’s a derogative term. An insult. Maybe not enough to get you punched, but we don’t do that.”
“Alright. Yes. I understand. I will try. Good job you ain’t Jewish eh?”
“Bad news I’m afraid. I am.”
“Oh.”
The older man scans through the documents and frowns.
“You are charged with a multitude of offenses. The first of which is Causing Great Disgust of Public Morals; Crude and Offensive Language; Heresy towards the Gods of the Yucani; Causing a Disturbance of the Peace… what were you doing?”
“I was doing my routine.”
“Routine?”
“I’m a comedian. Stand up.”
There was a raised eyebrow.
“You are comedian?”
“Yes.”
“And you caused this reaction?”
“Apparently.”
“Gonna say Kid, I’d work on your act.”
Eversham blinks and his face contorts with frustration, “Are you here to help me or not?”
The older man however just gazes at the file before him, “As well as the above you are charged with Inciting a Yucani to Wish to Commit Violence- this is a serious offense by itself, but they have charged you with inciting every individual in the crowd who heard you. So that’s 496 separate charges. And given each one carries a possible death sentence…”
“Death sentence? I could die?”
The older man smiles coldly across the table, “And we haven’t even gotten onto the serious allegations yet. So far, its just been the warm up. Now it says here that you perform under a different name.”
“Yeah. Abe Froman.”
“What?”
“Abe Froman. You know from that old movie.”
“What old movie?”
“A 20th century classic. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The character of Abe Froman- the Sausage King of Chicargo? You must have heard of it?”
The older human raises his eyebrows high.
“No ‘Abe’ I haven’t. Neither have the Yucani. Which means they arrested someone called Abe Froman, only then to discover his real name is Andrew Eversham.”
“It’s my stage name.”
“The Yuctani don’t have concepts for ‘stage names’. All they know is a human arrived on planet with one name and then started using another name once here. And THIS is why they have charged you with espionage.”
“ESPIONAGE!!?”
“Yes. Specifically, because of the two names thing. And THEN because they think you are some kind of human agent, but don’t know what exactly you could have been up to, they assume the worst and charged you with everything they think you COULD have been here to do. That’s what the rest of the folder is.”
Andrew gazes at the thick pages with a look of absolute terror. The older humans eyes begin scanning; “So, from the top, ‘Suspected of Wishing to Assassinate the Emperor of the Yucani; Suspected of wishing to Assassinate the Chancellor of the Emperor of the Yucani…”
He moves forward a few pages.
“Suspected of wishing to put poison in the water supply of the cities of Heshis and Jebin…”
“But I…”
The older man lifts up more pages and smiles, “Suspected of seeking to violate the sacred virginity of the High Priestess of Rho- that’s impressive.”
“Are you serious? This is a joke.”
“Deadly serious,” hisses the old man, who closes the file with a loud thump. He fixes Eversham with a fierce stare.
“I gotta tell you ‘Abe’- you are in so much trouble right now that EarthGov is an inch away from washing their hands of you, throwing you to the Yucani and letting them take dumps on your for the rest of your short life. I am, literally, the only hope in hell you have of surviving and if I’m being honest- it aint much of a hope.”
“But it was just a few jokes,” mews Eversham, his eyes welling up with tears.
“Who thought it would be a good idea to travel to another planet and do stand up comedy?”
“My agent.”
“Your agent? What did you do? Sleep with his wife?”
“No,” comes the panicked reply.
“Didn’t you even do some basic research on what the Yucani considered humour?”
“No. I thought it would be more interesting to just turn up and see how they reacted to human jokes… you know… see the raw reaction.”
The older man is briefly speechless. He takes a breath and says quietly, “Gotta admire your chutzpah Kid. Not smart but that’s a LOT of chutzpah…”
“Why would EarthGov throw me under the bus? I don’t understand. I screwed up sure, but…”
He stops as the older man just holds up a hand. He gazes into his eyes as the first human he has seen in months speaks very quietly.
“Here’s the deal. As far as we can tell, a couple of months ago, this young human leaves Earth and flies to Yucani homeworld. He passes customs, checks into a Yucani version of a hotel and asks if they have versions of ‘clubs’. He discovers that, being social creatures, Yucani do indeed have these places where they gather to be entertained. Brilliant says he. The human goes to one of these. This human, he is not entirely ignorant- he’s learned basic Yucani. Not much, but enough to converse conversationally.”
The older mans stare nails the young man to his chair.
“So he goes there and meets the Yucani in charge. Explains that he is a ‘human entertainer’. Asks if he can perform. The Yucani, like the rest of his species? They get on well with us. We share similar traits. We have had good relations since the Treaty of Commerce and Travel was signed fifteen years ago. Sure, he says. He announces this human. Who gets on stage. But does not sing. Doesn’t dance. He talks. He talks to them. He says some pretty damn insulting things about them. He ignores their obvious growls of displeasure.”
“I thought they were laughing!”
“You thought wrong kid. The crowd sat for about twenty minutes getting madder and then decides enough is enough. They chase him out of the club, across two streets and corner him outside of his hotel. Where he is arrested and not lynched because the club owner rang the constabulary. Have I missed anything out?”
“No,” says Eversham quietly.
“So the EarthGov embassy gets informed of all this and do what they do and move to smooth ruffled fur. It’s just a misunderstanding they say. It’s an easy mistake they say. Their records show he is JUST a comedian. But here’s the thing kid. Yucani don’t have comedians. They don’t get it. So the Ambassador tries to explain it to them. Which in turn leads to a discussion about a very unique trait we humans have that Yucani do NOT have. Know what that is?”
“A sense of humour?” Eversham says, literally unable to help himself. He is surprised at the response.
“Well spotted. They have one but it is nothing like our own. They became fascinated at our sense of humour and then in quick measure, horrified at it. They find the very essence of human humour to be offensive, aggressive, cruel and vicious. Their government is considering tearing up the Treaty between our two races. Literally, your little stunt has caused the MOTHER of all diplomatic incidents.”
“I… I had… no idea,” stammers the Englishman.
“That comes as no surprise to me whatsoever,” comes the hissed reply. The older man sighs and rubs his eyes and continues. “Now the GOOD news is, given the severity of the charges you face, the nature of the issue, and the sheer monumental insanity of this whole thing, the Yucani have decided to not bother with all the minor courts, judges, appleant proceadures. You are going to be tried by the top court on the planet. The Ultimate Court. One trial, one hearing, one.”
Eversham just nods.
“The bad news is, it won’t be you alone on trial. It will be the entire human species. And our sense of humour. Somehow, just somehow, we have to convince these creatures that actually our sense of humour isn’t just an awful trait that they find offensive. And that means somehow, just somehow, I’ve got to defend human comedy in front of a species who has no concept of comedy at all.”
The older man sighs.
“And I thought raising my eldest daughter was tough!”
There is a silence. The full weight of the moment clearly hits the young man. He lowers his head and fights back tears. Eventually, without looking up, he says quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are kid.”
“I’ve been a fool.”
“This much EVERYONE can agree upon.”
“I never meant to cause this…”
The older man sighs again, “I know you didn’t kid. Everyone knows you didn’t MEAN it. Doesn’t make it any easier for folks back home.”
Andrew Eversham nods. Displaying the stoicism his nation was famed for, he remains very quiet. Tears drip off his nose but he makes no sound. The older man just looks at him, an iota of sympathy creeping into his sad eyes. Moments pass. Eversham finally speaks.
“It… maybe it would be better if everyone just wrote me off. Said I was insane. Aberrational. Throw me under the bus. Let everyone get on with it?”
A small sad smile crosses the older mans face.
“To be blunt, that is what a LOT wanted to do back in EarthGov. A lot still do. But it’s too late for that. The whole race is in the mix now. Like it or not, we gotta jump on this ride and see it through to the end. And this is why they sent me. Because some fool thinks that if anyone can win this, can somehow get you off, its me.”
“Are you a diplomat?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“So why did they send you?”
“Beats me kid. I mean I have a rough idea, but really? I think they sent me because they are desperate.”
“What do you do for a living?”
A smile.
“For my sins? I’m a Rabbi.”
Four Days Later; The Grand Chamber of the Yucani Ultimate Court
Rabbi Johnathan Cohen had to admit- it was impressive. For such a small race, the Yucani could do ‘grand’. As he looked around the chamber of the highest judiciary on their planet, he could imagine it being used for an equally impressive purpose back on Earth. Of course on Earth the décor and colour scheme would be a tad different. More imposing.
Regal even. This?
It reminded him of the garish interior of some Western Bordelo from the 1890’s if he was honest. Still, the gold and purples and reds didn’t distract from the gravitas of the assembly or the importance of the room.
Or the size of the crowd.
EarthGov told him it was going to be a big show. They were not kidding. The five judges (known as a ‘claw’ the standard designation in all Yucani trials apparently) were looking impressive in their yellow robes of office, but they were upstaged by everyone else. The importance of the nature of this trial had demanded that anyone who was anyone would be here.
Rabbi Cohen could see the heir to the Yucani Empire had arrived (representing his father and 83 siblings); the Minister for Relations With The Hairless Ones (the formal designation for the poor Yucani official who dealt with humans) was also there, talking to him in hurried trills.
There were delegations of all the great and the good of this species, including The High Matron of the Sacred Priestesses of Rho, whose arrival caused him to smile inwardly. And it wasn’t just the Yucani who were here.
The unique nature of the diplomatic spat had caused interest from a half dozen other species. He saw the Ambassador of the Tu-Kek sitting within a glass encased sphere; the Emissary of the Golden Hive, which sat unmoving upon a perch, witnessing all that it relayed to the collective hive mind of the crew of the colony/ship that had arrived in orbit a few days before.
There was even a Frosh there, hovering enigmatically in its encounter suit, and the Frosh didn’t seem interested in anything except fractal mathematical equations most of the time. None of the species knew a damn thing about them- highly advanced but utterly abstract.
And there were the other humans. The Ambassador was there looking nervous (he was partly to blame for messing up the aftermath of the event- his job was on the line); the Commodore of Human Forces in the nearest sector was to his right, looking bored (only here because EarthGov was slightly worried this could end in a war). The attractive secretary (who everyone whispered the Ambassdor was sleeping with), sat on the other side of the Commodore, his handsom eyes glancing at the proceedings nervously.
And this ignored the several hundred normal Yucani who had managed to gain attendance to the trial. Rabbi Cohen took a sip of water and muttered to himself, “No pressure then Johnathan…”
“What?”
He turned to the rather pathetic figure of Andrew Eversham besides him. He wasn’t chained, and he had been issued new clothing, but his eyes were sunken and he looked the very image of a broken man.
“Nothing kid,” he says kindly, “you ready for this?”
“No,” comes the dispondant reply. For some reason Johnathan smiles at this.
“That’s the way. Honesty is always the best policy.”
The beating of a gavel is enough to start the proceedings. Ear pieces to allow fluent translations of all sides words are donned, and Rabbi Cohen takes a deep breath. Yucani trials followed a slightly differing format than humans- but the jist was roughly the same. The ‘prosecution’ he noticed was a grey furred alien, whose somewhat rotund body revealed him to be a corpulent and well fed member of his species. No doubt some great legal mind.
The trial passed quickly enough- the facts were not in dispute and indeed the defence case being as it was (the human in question was ignorant of any harm he could cause and meant no malice) was not even seriously contested by the state. No, in truth the real reckoning lay in the deeper issue of human sense of humour, and how in would colour future Human-Yucani relations.
Eventually, after about an hour, the rotund alien hopped back towards his table and began trilling in low, dark tones. In Cohen’s ear the translation came across clearly.
Which leads us, most supreme claw, to the crux of the issue. The human’s case rests upon a simple defense; he was innocent of any illwill towards our peoples, but sought to ‘entertain’ us with an example of human ‘humour’. This has led to our people investigating this aspect of the aliens personalities, and what we have found is disturbing indeed.
Johnathan watched closely as little creature trilled and squeaked in strong tones, his brown eyes forever gazing around him; while he was no expert on Yucani bodylanguage, Cohen knew showboating when he saw it. The little fat furball was playing to the crowd, playing upon the sensibilities of his race.
We have found humans delight in mockery; in lampooning; in deriding. They claim they do the same to themselves, as if this excuses them, as if it gives them the writ to inflict such things upon the rest of the galaxy. For a human, mockery of their institutions and their leaders is to be expected. But as we all KNOW- such things are anathema to we Yucani; where the familial bonds of love and honour are as natural to us as breathing…
The Rabbi tried hard not to roll his eyes. The prosecution was laying it on thick. Really thick. He watched as the creature hopped and trilled, waving its little arms about, modulating its voice expertly. He could see every Yucani in the room moved by this; their noses twitched, eyes welled up, their tails would go back and forth violently.
Carefully the Rabbi listened as the little creature moved onto the mainstay of his argument.
Is it not said by the Goddess Rho, that ‘all things shall be in its natural place, from star to planet, from ruler to bondman’; does not Rho teach us that there is only joy to be found in ‘careful appreciation of the natural order of all things’? Is it not said within our most sacred texts that ‘The ONLY path towards elevation of a soul, is through acceptance of its time within the body’? These are the foundations of our very society, our very civilisations…
The prosecution begins waxing lyrical about the virtues of the civilisation of the Yucani, but Johnathan was only half listening. There was a religious aspect to this after all?
As he mused on the sacred words of the Rho, part of him wondered if the wiley President of Earth was smarter than he liked to appear. Did the old guy KNOW this was going to be their approach? Is this why he sent him?
His thoughts are broken as the prosecution brings his long and somewhat vaudevillian diatribe to its conclusion…
…which bases itself upon mockery, and lampoon and cruelty towards living things are ideas we Yucani cannot afford to allow infect our civilisation. They gnaw at its roots. They will in time infest our nests. Supreme Claw, I must ask, no implore, no BEG of you, to issue an edict which petitions our Emperor to reconsider allowing these humans access to our world. Lest one night, one terrible night, the scenes we saw, where a single voice defiles the virtues of our culture are repeated… but this time by one of our own children.
Cohen takes a breath and smiles to himself. He glances over at the ambassador who looks back nervously. Besides him the quiet voice of Andrew Eversham says, “I really screwed this all up didn’t I?”
“Yes kid. But look on the bright side?”
“There’s a bright side?”
“It’s not everyday you get to be accused of defiling an entire civilisation. Think about how it will look on your CV?”
Rabbi Cohen stands as his opposing side sits down heavily. He picks up a small card wherein the correct honourifics needed to address the court are clearly printed and runs through the formalities quickly enough. That done he gazes at the five judges for a moment, and shrugs.
“The human sense of humour. Where do I, one of our species, even BEGIN to start describing this complex thing that lies at the heart of who we are, to your most Supreme Claw? There are great minds on Earth who have wondered about this for many centuries and reached no conclusion. And yet it is clear, I must. So let me try and break this down into a way I feel the Yucani can understand and I hope, accept it, for all its imperfections.”
“It is a question often asked by us humans- what makes us laugh? What is the source of our humour? The prosecution would have you believe it is cruelty and mockery. And from the surface it would appear so. But allow me to illustrate that human humour is complicated and made up of many levels.”
He strides out from behind his table, keeping his voice low and his eyes focused on the judges.
“The starting point is incongruity. We humans like you Yucanti had an issue with incongruity. Evolutionary speaking our ancestors, like yours, lived lives fearing predators; both our species in our ancient past? We would gaze, eyes to the horizon, forever searching for danger. We learned well the safety in patterns, the formal, fixed nature of our surroundings. Anything out of place, incongruous, we would be drawn to. It spelt danger, it spelt threat.”
“For my species, long after we had evolved past the need to spot such things, we had this trait inherent still within us. Why do I stress this? When humans spot an incongruity in nature, when it does not threaten us? We laugh. An exclamation of relief. Identical to what Yucani call the ‘musk of fear ending’. For your species it is natural and normal. Same with ours. Yours is scent. Ours is sound. Identical reactions. A thing we have in common yes?”
A few aliens nod at this. A good start.
“However this is not the full basis of our humour. Incongruity cannot be the full extent of our humour. If I was to find a shoe in a dishwasher, or you were to find Gurnix inside a Flubuton, that in itself would not be the cause of humour to us. It would be odd, but not humorous. The key for us humans is that incogurity has to be of a correct kind. For humans it has to involve a shift of perspective. The great human psychologist, Koestler, pointed out that for humans this shift is all important. An example would be…”
He nods to one of the technicians and displayed in the air in both languages are words.
When is a door not a door?
When it is a jar!
“This is an example of that type of humour. Incongruity presenting a perspective shift.”
There is utter silence from the audience and he scans the translation and smiles.
“Of course the joke does not translate at all to your race. The play on contexts and language is entirely lost to you. But notice how my fellow humans did not laugh either. Such things are primitive; plays on words, sudden perspective shifts. Proto-Jokes almost. I raise it to establish the baseline of our humour.”
“We humans have many of these jokes. We call them things like ‘knock-knock jokes’ and ‘lightbulb jokes’. They are not truly appealing to our humour, the highest compliment they can get is to be called clever, for you see they are missing a particular element of humour which the prosecution has done well to highlight.”
“What they miss, is a degree of cruelty.”
The little rotund advocate for the state stands and begins trilling in high pitched tones. Cohen waits for the translation to come through.
So you admit that humans revel in cruelty?
He smiles, “No.”
But you just said that your humour needs cruelty!
“A certain type, yes. But not the type you described.”
Semantics! Your supreme clawness, I urge you end this nonsense…
We will hear the human defence, intones the oldest, long whiskered judge, As we are curious as not how they will justify this.
“I thank the indulgence of the court,” smiles Cohen, and he takes a breath.
“There remains, there always will, an aspect of human behaviour that is mistaken for our humour but is not. This is how we humans use laughter. Laughter is a physical response to things. Mostly to humour yes, but also, and this is where the prosecution made their mistake, it can be a sound of triumph. At such times the sound is indeed dark and unmistakably cruel. Many have observed that for all the love we have of the sound of laughter it is by volume and in ferocity, an aggressive sound. And there exists many examples of our species using laughter when committing acts of cruelty.”
He shrugs, “It was only a few centruies ago that it became unfashionable to visit the places we kept our psychically and mentally disable for the purpose of laughing at them. We thought it good sport to look upon their pain. All of human history contains accounts of how public executions were raucous affairs, we would attend and celebrate the killing of one of our own, often with laughter as the guillotine came down upon them…”
Rabbi Cohen sighs heavily, “When I was younger I once saw a picture. Germany. The 1930’s. A small child, a Jewish boy, was being forced to clean the street on his hands and knees. Around him stood adults and they were laughing. This isn’t human humour, it’s cruelty. There are countless episodes of torturers laughing as they inflict pain. Of laughter being heard from mass shooters, from soldiers in war, at our most darkest moments. These things I do not refute. But point out a similarity of experience between our species.”
“Every species in the galaxy knows Yucani are fastidious in cleaning, how they value healthy and clean fur. No Yucani would ever dose another in urine for example. What then of your treatment of prisoners? Are we to take that as indicative of Yucani finding such things acceptable? Of course not. It is a certain, dark aspect of your society, misunderstood except BY your species. This is the same as using laughter by humans in moments of cruelty. It is separate FROM the debate about humour.”
He takes a breath and a sip of water before continuing.
“No, to say human humour is incognuity mixed with cruelty is too simplistic. It has to be the right type of cruelty…”
What do you mean the right type of cruelty? asks the supreme judge.
Johnathan Cohen thinks for a moment and smiles, “On Earth, a wise man called Mel Brooks once asked the question- what is the difference between tragedy and comedy?”
What was his answer?
“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall down a manhole cover and die.”
The Ambassadors secretary bursts out laughing, the sound carries across the room, ALL eyes fall upon him. Hurridly he covers his mouth, going red in the process.
“And you see the very nature of it right there. A sudden juxtaposition of incongruity and a certain element of cruelty, producing an involuntary response. Laughter.”
He pauses for a moment and says quietly, “In our distant past, in the year 1991 of our calander, a human writer called David Barry said the following, “The most important humor truth of all is that to really see the humour in a situation, you have to have perspective. ‘Perspective’ is derived from two ancient Greek words: ‘persp’ meaning ‘something bad happens to someone else’ and ‘ective’ meaning ‘ideally someone like Donald Trump’.”
At this all the humans bursts out laughing and Rabbi Cohen holds up his hands, “Again- the involuntary reaction. I won’t bother to explain it your honours, just to say that last statement was a joke designed to highlight something.”
“The core cruelty here is that someone must lose dignity. As we humans say be brought down a peg or two, or be knocked off a pedestal. It can be used by the mob as a weapon, and YES, it does have a subversive power. One of our ancients, a man called Plato, thought humour was destabalsing to the state and should be banned from it, which for us humans? Tell us much about the kind of guy Plato actually was.”
See? This is my allegation Supreme Claw. The human ADMITS what I am saying is true…
“What we do you got right, WHY we do it you got wrong. I heard you speaking about how Rho says we must appreciate the time our souls connect with our bodies correct?”
The prosecution’s whiskers twitch a little, and carefully it says Yes
“Well, the most basic, the most universal, the most raw and successful brand of comedy, the one my clients version was but a verbal variation of, the one that transcends the many human languages, is humour based upon just that. The realisation that there is a split between the soul, the essence of a human, and these dull, mundane frail bodies we exist in. What a psychologist once called the ‘dualism of subtle mind and inert matter’. “
“We call that humour, slapstick.”
He grins to himself.
“The core of all slapstick is the ‘the blow and the fall’. It can be as simple as a human slipping on the skin of recently eaten fruit. Or elaborate and detailed, but at its core is something very important. We understand, totally, the immortality of the soul, what the Goddess Rho holds to essence of being, but we also recognise the limitations of the body. Your species finds solance in holding to the immutable structure of the universe to reconcile this correct? We reconcile it by finding humor when we are reminded that these frail bodies cannot match the perfection of what lies within.”
“All of this is just by way of explaining this…”
An image appears on screen. It is a small human infant, wearing a sundress, maybe aged about 2 or 3 years old. Walking towards them is an image of Rabbi Cohen. He smiles at the child, and walks towards her and then, suddenly, slips and lands on his backside, a look of mock shock on his face. And at that, the court room is filled with the sound of the small child laughing, laughing hard; uncontrollable laughter, a sound that makes every human in the room smile. The image ends.
“Your honours, THAT is the most beloved sound on my home planet. The sound of an innocent child laughing. It transcends cultures and languages, transcends time. It delights us like NO other sound. We can spend hours just trying to get children to make it.”
“Consider then what you just saw? An innocent- capable of no higher functions of thought; an infant. It’s reactions are primal. But what DID you see? An infant is able to identify itself as a being, and me as a separate being. It saw the classic imposition upon my being by this mundane body. I tripped and slipped on my tuchus. A sudden juxtaposition of incongruity. One second I am stood, the next I am not. Mixed with the RIGHT kind of cruelty. Misfortune happening to another. But notice my reaction- my mock smile? My grand daughter realises that it is not hurting me and responds with a spontainious reaction of laughter.”
“THIS is at its base, the core of ALL human comedy and humour; it is based on empathy, and innocence. Not for her convoluted explanations involving cruelty and mockery. Just instinct. As we grow we develop more sophisticated methods to find humour but at its core? That is it. Is that not a demonstration of how our humour is as identical as your veneration of the soul within the body? The acceptance of the duality of body and spirit?”
Rabbi Cohen smiles, gently and turns to the Judges.
“Your honours, I urge you to dismiss this case. And I urge you to do so because let me tell you what will happen to the defendant. He will be released. He will return home. And when he does? He will become the subject of many, many jokes. He bore no ill will in his heart towards your race- but he was a schmuck.”
What is a schmuck?
“It’s a certain type of human. For the Yucani? A schmuck will forever be my client.”
In his chair the stand up comedian opens his mouth and then closes it. Defeated.
“He will return home and we will make stories about what he did. We will laugh at his foolishness, his ignorance, his pride….”
And we so gonna have fun with you little fat gerbil, he thinks but does not say as he eyes the prosecutor.
“And our ambassador will sit down with the Crown Prince and they will add a provision to the Treaty of Trade and friendship that says, based on the psychological underpinnings of our two species, and given we recognise that we share in common a belief of the duality of our existence and indeed of the existence of the soul, that human humour is a natural byproduct of our evolution like musk scenting is part of yours. Neither of our species share these traits, so lets not inflict it upon the other huh?”
“That would seem to me to be a most equitable and fair solution.”
The judges consulte one another, the Yucani remove their translation devices, but Johnathan can see their chirpings are appreciative. He may not have convinced them humans are FUNNY… but he may have convinced them to let this slide. He sits down at his table, gathers up his case note and begins to place them inside his briefcase.
Besides him, the comedian gazes over and sees there, amidst the papers in the briefcase, a hard backed book… ‘On the origins of humor: why Neaderthals can’t take a joke’ by Dr Johnathan Cohen, and a sudden realisation crosses his mind and he whispers, “You wrote that?”
“When not studying the Torah, I dabble in evolutionary psychology. It pays the bills.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey kid, what we gonna do? Let aliens say we bad for liking to laugh? What’s next? We are sinful because we breath?”
As the court recesses, and the judges leave to make their judgement, Rabbi Cohen stands and turns to make his way over to the Ambassadour when he is stopped suddenly. There, before him, stands the representative of the Frosh. It’s towering form, its huge encounter suit, obscuring the being from within. It’s cold black visage, plain glass of some kind, looms balefully over him.
In all the hustle of the Yucani leaving, no one notices this member of the most elusive and obscure of all the alien species, make his way to stand before the human. Johnathan clears his throat and goes, “Hello?”
The alien just stands.
“Can I help you?”
The black screen suddenly flashes brief, fractal images upon it, who flare in and out of existing as quick as a human blink. At the same time a warbling high pitch noise emits from deep in the chest area.
The Rabbi blinks and says, “What?”
The images and the noise is repeated again. Realisation dawning, Rabbi Cohen places down his briefcase and picks up the translator device he was using back on the table.
“Say that again please?”
The images flash and the noise is made and two seconds later words form in the humans ear… a simple message…
Pull my finger.
There is a silence. Around them the Yucani chitter and trill but Johnathan Cohen begins to smile…
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Hunter or Huntress Chapter 90: A Bad Night

So another round one, chapter 90. Only 10 to go for the big number, this actually also marks 1000 novel size pages of story-making just over 277.000 words thus far O_o For comparison, the lord of the rings is 576.000 so damn near halfway there... Holy fuck that is a lot of writing in just over three months. To mark the occasion this one is a special one. at some point, during today's story, there is going to be a fade to black and a little link (If you are speed machines please have patients it's coming ASAP)
Now in there, you will find nothing but gratuitous pancake, this is so that you have the choice, you may skip the standalone chapter and I promise you are not missing any of the actual story, at least as little as I could manage. for the rest of you Enjoy,
With the semantics out of the way, I say we get on with the story,
ko-fi For having more pretty pictures commissioned.
Sapphire
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Chapter 90: A Bad Night
Luke had returned with a gaggle of kids, who all looked rather overwhelmed by what they saw coming out. There were a lot of them, Tom counted twelve in total. All of them rather young; he guessed the oldest one looked about nine.
“Look, dragon!” a young boy shouted, running over to Jarix with a few others on his heels. Some were looking around, clearly searching for people who might not be here anymore. Others stood staring at Tom.
The sight of other kids also caused a fair amount of excitement, Luke ushering the more timid kids towards the ones from Hylsdal.
Tom just stood there putting a hand around Jacky’s waist, looking at the best reason for doing all this. He chuckled as Jarix elevated his head just out of grabbing range as the more excitable of the kids tried to touch his face. He had a smile on though, even if he looked a little unsure of what to do. Zarko was on hand to help though, telling off the kids who tried to climb up the wounded dragon.
It took some coaxing, but in the end, most of the kids had been convinced to start playing with each other, though some were still around sitting either crying or just keeping to themselves. Lothal was doing his best to try and console his friends and doing a remarkably good job of it. Tom couldn't decide if he was proud or sad at seeing an eleven-year-old acting like an adult.
Dinner was nothing special, just some more of the stew from earlier with some rather stale tasting bread. Jacky, Tom, Zarko, and Unkai had sat together with the lady, Luke, Requi and the healer who was sort of conscious for the moment. She was apparently called Quin, at least for short. Unkai too was sitting rather slack-eared, clearly having been put to hard work already.
Jarix was given some cuts of cured meat. The lady had brought out both some decent ale and even some wine, which was passed around the table. Tom had never tried dragonette wine before, so, despite his reservations about mixing alcohol with blood loss, he poured a cup for himself. That was an old student tactic, after all, to donate blood before a night on the town. It made things a bit cheaper.
“We might not be able to put together a feast, but we can do this, a small token of thanks. Luke, if you wouldn’t mind,” The Lady went as she took her seat, Luke standing up raising a glass.
“To the heroes in our hour of need!”
Tom damn near stood up to join Luke, Zarko grabbing him by the shoulder to keep him seated. As the assembled dragonettes of the keep gave a toast. Tom didn’t really know if he felt proud or just uncomfortable at this point. On one hand, he could look around the room to see many faces, most of which appeared happy. On the other hand, many definitely weren’t: a lone wounded father with a sobbing kid; the kids from Hylsdal; the countless wounded, some looking like they might not fly or even walk properly again.
“To the crazy bastard who made it possible,” Jackalope went as she raised her cup looking at Tom, apparently figuring out what was being toasted.
“Hey!” Jarix let out, clearly trying to sound offended. “To the crazy bastards who made it possible,” Zarko corrected, raising her cup.
“To wiping those fuckers off the map,” Tom joined in, feeling a little left out.
“Cheers to that,” The silvered huntress replied without much enthusiasm, slamming her drink down in one go. She was joined by the others. Tom took his time with his wine though. As expected it was rather sweet, definitely not bad though. They hadn’t made a huge thing out of the meal, it was just stew and bread after all, even if their drinks were well above average.
It had been a rather awkward meal though. Jackalope couldn’t partake in the conversation unless Tom or someone else wrote down for her what was going on. They all did their best to avoid the more depressing subject matters, but it was pretty damn hard to avoid them in their current state. Quite a few of the others had taken to drinking rather heavily. Tom could hardly blame them, but he kept it mild for now. Jacky, though, did make a dent in the ale supply. She didn’t get piss drunk, but she was definitely inebriated by now.
“You know, I’ve never been called a hero before,” Jacky went, leaning on Tom after they had finished the meal. “You still got the ace though… You always get the ace… Why are you so damn good at killing?” She questioned hanging on his shoulders.
Tom didn’t really know how to answer her on that one. “You know what,” She went, pulling back and poking him in the chest with a finger. “You get to teach me how. You’re not getting the ace next time,” Tom pondered for a second if that was a smart thing to agree to. It was likely going to happen though, so why not.
“I guess that’s the smart part about being deaf, I can’t hear if you're protesting, so I’m just gonna say you agreed,” Jackalope continued before he managed to nod his reply. She poured a fresh mug for the both of them, snickering. Tom debated getting out the notepad to try and tell her he needed to be a little careful when it came to alcohol right now. She beat him to it though. “You’re not drinking like last time; afraid we might do something stupid?”
Unkai damn near choked at that one. Zarko just shook her head, looking a tad embarrassed. ’Remember the angry smith Tom, Remember the angry smith,’ he repeated to himself. He got out the notepad to write down a response. Tom made well sure no one else saw what he wrote as he showed it to Jacky.
“I’m wounded, also your mother,” she pulled back a bit, looking a little annoyed.
“She is not here nor will she be... Hey Unkai! Can you give him a check? He claims to be wounded; I don’t want him dying on me.” She went, sounding entirely inappropriate.
Even Zarko had to suppress a slight laugh at that, Unkai looking like a deer in the headlights as Jacky’s attention switched to him.
“I mean sure. I’ll just finish this,” the healer replied, gesturing at his cup.
“I can’t hear you,” Jackalope reiterated with a side to side head bob. Unkai looked very embarrassed, just giving her a thumbs up instead.
‘Oh boy,’ Tom thought to himself, shrinking down.
“I think he needs more liquid courage to handle me though. Watch closely Unkai, you might learn how to grow a spine. Even if it’s only for a bit,” Jackalope continued, laughing at her own joke as she poured another drink for herself and refilling Tom’s cup.
“The man who went toe to toe with a small army and he needs help to handle you. What does that tell you?” Zarko let out, looking at Tom, seeming very pleased with herself.
“Don’t let them get to you Tom, you're braver than her,” Jarix added, ensuring that everyone in the entire hall was now invested in the conversation.
Tom just picked up the mug of ale she had poured for him. Jackalope excitedly raised hers as they knocked them together. ‘May the hangover have mercy on my soul,’ Tom thought to himself. He had been saved after a few mugs by the lady declaring that they needed to save enough for a proper feast when they could manage it.
The result was a nice buzz and an even cockier Jackalope as they left the table. Perhaps it was her time for some healing following that whole shit show. He had never seen her as distraught as she was at Hylsdal. Not to mention the expression on her face when Zarko had carried the body of the dead girl away after they landed.
Apparently, alcohol had at the very least helped her think about something else, as she was spouting funny stories and, of course, boasting about how amazing she had been in the battle. That had led to a hasty explanation about how Tom had let her borrow some of his power during the battle. He wasn’t entirely sure if any of the locals bought it, but they were way too polite to question the explanation though. Or possibly scared, or just didn’t care, he wasn’t quite sure.
Unkai had gone over Jackalope first and deemed her as fixed as she could be right now; he didn't dare try to fix her ears, claiming that to be way beyond him. He sounded confident that Nunuk might be able to put them back together again though. Jackalope let out an annoyed sigh at the news, though the part about Nunuk did help.
It was clear Jacky and Tom had received priority when it came to getting fixed up after the battle. Unkai had put in some work on Tom, mainly putting his effort into the stinger wound on his side. Tom had him check his neck wound as thoroughly as he could manage. But Unkai claimed that was as good as it was going to get, though he recommended some resting time.
“Fuck, I took painkillers earlier,” Tom let out as Unkai touched the stinger wound, which didn’t hurt as much as it should have.
“Is that bad?” Unkai had questioned, looking at the wound.
“I drank alcohol too, you're not supposed to mix those.” Unkai looked at Tom as if he was expecting more than that.
“Well don’t look at me, I don’t know how they work,” he finally responded, Jackalope’s face growing worried at the exchange, her gaze breaking as she looked to Unkai.
“He’s fine, right? He’s been stung before. He’s tough on that front even if his skin is soft like a kid’s,” She asked with worry in her voice slurring slightly, Tom taking slight offense at the last part. Unkai turned to her, giving her a thumbs up and a smile before looking back at the wound.
“Anything we can do about it?” the healer questioned, clearly trying to not look worried this time, for Jacky’s sake.
“Don’t think so. I guess I’m just gonna cross my fingers and wait it out,” Tom answered truthfully. He had no clue what the actual effect of that might be. He felt fine though. He was a little weird in the head, but that was honestly to be expected in his current condition.
“Well I don’t think you’re gonna be sleeping alone anyway, but consider it medical advice to have someone look after you,” Unkai replied trying a sly smile, which just looked wrong on him.
“Tom the hot stone reporting for duty,” Tom joked back as Unkai went about reapplying the bandage to the wound. Jacky’s gaze switching back to Tom seemingly excited, the edges of her mouth curling into a slight smile.
The young woman who had washed his clothes earlier had shown them up to the bedrooms after the quick check-up.
“We have a few rooms which weren’t in use before, don’t worry it’s not… someones. I'm sorry if they are dirty, but you can have one each if you want.” She sounded really rather uncomfortable. Tom could get why. He could see the number of rooms and there had to be at least a few that had owners until recently.
“This is very kind of you. Thank you,” Tom replied, the woman giving a curtsy before making her way back down the stairs rather hurriedly. Tom got out the notepad to ask Jacky if she wanted to share a room. Thinking back, that wasn’t at all necessary; he just felt like it was the right thing to at least ask.
Jackalope though didn’t bother to ask him. Taking him by the wrist rather firmly, she led him into the first room the young woman had shown them.
​
The Pancake Chapter: Pancake!
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Balethon now safely in her grasp, Sapphire circled back the way she came. She almost wanted to tell him to enjoy this since she was likely not gonna be carrying him again, not to mention at night in nothing but her underwear. The dude had already had a remarkably shitty night though, so she refrained.
She spotted the large disorganized group which had been supposed to keep the tavern safe. They had set down in a square and were looking around confused as Sapphire came in to land. She was quickly greeted by a near-hysterical Haiko who looked ready to drop his mace as he nearly trod on Balethon in an attempt to hug her faster.
“You’re okay, right? Nothing wrong?”
“I’m fine, the bastards couldn’t shoot.”
“Oh thank whoever cared,” he let out, squeezing her tightly.
“Where is Dakota?” Sapphire squeaked out from his embrace. He let go of her taking a step back looking around.
“Not here. Neither is that Maiko guy, and he damn near caught up to you before you shot off into the darkness. You haven't gotten any slower, have you now?”
“Not by much, no,” she replied, looking down to her stricken cargo. “Let’s get him to sit up somewhere. Any of you got some water?” she questioned, looking to the other guards. Her eyes landed on someone being bound up. She assumed it was the mercenary who had tried to attack her. “You're a shit fighter, I hope you know that,” She shouted out, glaring at the arsehole, who just stared at her with clear contempt.
Draki had come over with a canteen of water, looking up to Sapphire and looking a bit strained in the face before he turned to Haiko.
“I owe you two silver, don’t I?” the diminutive guy asked, seeming rather annoyed.
“I told you, she’s the fastest woman you ever saw,” Haiko replied with a smile, trying to fold out Balethon, eventually giving up. “Grab on, let’s put him on that bench over there,” he went, grabbing Balethon by the legs, with Sapphire taking the shoulders as they carried him over. He was stiff as a board, though the panicked look in his eyes was at least sort of gone.
“You put a bet on me catching them?” Sapphire questioned as set him down. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or angry. Haiko held up his hands defensively, shaking his head.
“No no, Draki just didn’t believe all the stories, so I put two silver on the stories being true. Easiest bet ever.” That was more to Sapphire’s liking, and she gave him a slightly wicked smile. “You know we used to get a slice of the bets back then.”
“Hey, I got you your own personal protection service,” He replied, gesturing to the motley collection of dragonettes mulling about the square.
“That’s a word for it, I guess,” Sapphire replied, not overly impressed. It wasn’t like they had done much good tonight. “Take good care of him, I have some questions,” she went, leaving Haiko and going over to the now thoroughly tied up dragonette who had attacked her, the questioning already underway. Someone let out a suggestive growl as she walked by. The fact that she was wearing nothing but her underpants in the middle of the street dawning on her.
“Do that again and I’ll kill you,” she snarled, not sure who the offending member was, before turning her attention to the mercenary. “So… You thought kidnapping one of my friends was a good idea? How well would you say that went?” She questioned looking down at the piece of shit.
“Fucking brilliantly,” he responded angrily. “I ended up with a nice view if nothing else,” he continued with a shit-eating grin.
“How hard may I punch him?” She demanded, looking around at the guards. Most of them just looked confused at each other.
“As hard as I say so,” Maiko bellowed out, coming down alongside Dakota, who was carrying a very large unconscious female dragonette with an arrow sticking out of her back.
“Not your best shot, but it did the trick,” Dakota let out, unceremoniously dumping the dragonette on the ground before setting down. “Tie her up too, she won’t be out forever.”
After a bit they got the both of them tied up at about the same time as a contingent of city guards arrived, demanding to know what was going on. Sapphire cursed the fact she likely wouldn’t be allowed to beat the shit out of them now, as they began asking some very pointed questions.
“Oh yeah sure, a group of armed what was it... Tavern guards? Out at night with a pair of half-naked women and a dude who claims to be Royal Guard. And why has she been shot?!” the lead city guard questioned, looking around at them.
“Because she kidnapped him after stabbing him with vargulf poison,” Sapphire let out, wide armed. “How the fuck is that hard to understand!?”
“Calm down woman, who shot her?” the man questioned pointing at the female mercenary.
“I did and two other pieces of shit who tried to kill us!”
“Right, you're all coming with us. We need to know what happened here. Manacles,” the City Guard replied, snapping his fingers over his shoulder and receiving the item in question. Sapphire’s heart sank; she had never been arrested before. Closest she had ever gotten was being given a stern talking to for sneaking into the training fields.
Dakota looked ready with a reply, when Maiko beat her to it.
“Listen up you little shit-eating ground rat, see what this is?!” He went, holding up his sword, which true to form bore the royal insignia on the crossguard. “I will make a cape out of your fucking wings if you don’t man up and do your fucking job. These bastards attacked a tavern in the middle of the night, attempted murder, managed a kidnapping, then had a go at murder again during the desperate chase to catch them and your useless ass turns up just in time to insult the Royal Guard and be useless.”
“I’m gonna have to ask you to...” the city guard attempted to protest, though seemingly with a growing sense of apprehension.
“No, you may not. You are outranked! Or do I need to get the colonel to inform her the city guard is aiding an enemy of the crown? That would lead to some serious fucking cleansing of your unit, I can assure you of that!”
“In that case, I say we take you to the stockade and send for this colonel of yours, perhaps letting her know someone stole a blade from the Royal Guard armories.” Sapphire expected Maiko to explode at that insult, though he just pulled back with an evil smile.
“Very good sir, let’s go. Though I would appreciate the opportunity to get my uniform before appearing before my superior. You may escort me to the tavern in question if you wish.”
“That can be arranged, I assume you two wouldn’t mind getting dressed either, though I must insist on you accompanying us. Don’t we have a blanket or something?” he asked, looking back to his unit, eventually procuring a pair of thin woolen blankets.
“Bloody brilliant sir, how exactly do we fly with these?” Dakota questioned sounding very unimpressed.
“Uhm…”
As they were getting ready for takeoff Sapphire heard someone get a smack to the back of the head as she moved to check up on Balethon. Looking back, a slightly ashamed looking tavern guard was rubbing the back of his head, a very unimpressed woman standing next to him. ‘God fucking dammit’ she cursed to herself.
The ones who had woken up in the middle of the night broke off, going back to the tavern to get dressed in preparation for a long night. They wanted the bastards interrogated immediately anyway, even if getting interrogated themselves hadn't really been the plan. If this was the work of the Flaxens they would be doing their best to cover their tracks as soon as they learned of the mission's failure, so speed was of the essence.
“Why can’t we just be left in peace!” Dakota snapped as they were getting dressed. “Please let it just be the Flaxens so we can get them dealt with already.”
“Of course it’s them, who else could it be?” Sapphire dismissed her as she strapped on her greaves. Sapphire had a feeling Colonel Hashaw would not take kindly to this attack so she was bound to be there, therefore she needed to look proper in case they got fine company at the stockade.
Maiko had gone on to the Hashaw Estate to report back on the evening’s activities and hopefully convince Victoria to make an appearance. So Sapphire and Dakota found themselves standing in front of the stockade with a city guard escort.
It was a large, ugly building, looking like a place you wanted to avoid at all costs with its rough grey stone and metal barred cell windows lining the walls. “May they rot in here forever,” Sapphire let out as they were shown inside. She and Dakota were taken to different interrogation rooms. They were civil about it though, not even tying her up like she had feared.
The guy who had ‘caught them’ as he claimed was apparently in charge of this case. He formally introduced himself as Sergeant Lanok and set about asking questions, not many of which were intelligent. Where they were from, what they were doing here, why they had an armed escort in the middle of the night despite not even being properly dressed at the time.
He of course didn't believe most of the answers he was getting. Especially the part about being in the employ of the king at the moment, nor the whole Flaxen situation.
“What? You claim to be the target of a kidnapping attempt by a noble family, one on the council at that?! Give me a break,” Sapphire had to fight really hard not to slap him, but she didn’t want to end up in manacles, so she just stared at him contemptuously. Then there was a deep thunk that shook the building followed by creaking wood from above.
“This should be good,” Sapphire let out, leaning back with a smirk, relishing in the confusion on the guy’s face.
It took a bit longer than Sapphire had anticipated, as she refused to answer further questions, but there was eventually a knock on the door, Sergeant Lanok getting up to answer it. He was confronted by a very pissed looking Colonel Hashaw in formal uniform, Maiko and Yilditz at her back.
“You seem to have attempted to arrest one of my men and two people you really shouldn’t have. Not to mention waking both me and a decidedly grumpy 10 ton black dragon currently on your roof.”
‘So it wasn’t Baron then,’ Sapphire concluded. She doubted very much he could have been roused for this anyway, it also made sense to bring a black, they liked the night anyway. Maiko had been decent at laying out a string of insults, but Hashaw was clearly the source of his talent, as she chewed out not only the sergeant but anyone dumb enough to make an objection or not make themselves as small as they could including the captain of the Stockade much to Sapphire's horror.
It definitely helped that she was flanked by Ylditz, the person who had been tasked with finding out who the mercenaries were, as well as a few other family members. The dragon in question was apparently Tiguan, one of Jarix's training buddies. Sapphire guessed he was here just as much for a bit of experience then.
“Is there anyone dumb or useless enough in here to have anything more to say...? Very good. Where are the two who ‘actually’ need questioning?”
The tavern guards had been allowed to go, though Haiko had stuck around. The Sergeant was now looking very small as he took them to the room where the one who hadn’t been shot was sitting. The woman who had been carrying Balethon currently being treated.
“Do you have even the slightest idea how much you fucked up tonight?” Hashaw asked as she strode in the door, the sergeant holding it open for her.
“Pretty fucking badly I presume, but what the hell are you gonna do, huh? Gonna execute me, perhaps clip my wings? Doesn't matter if you’re Royal Guard or tavern guard the punishment is the same. So you don’t scare me woman or should I say… oh, Colonel, wow I really did fuck up, huh?” Well, Sapphire had to give it to him, he was taking the news that he was likely done for rather well, or perhaps he was just in denial about the whole thing.
“Oh, I can do worse than that I think. Sapphire, you wouldn’t happen to have learned a thing or two from our friend?”
“Might have done,” she admitted, thinking back to what she could remember of Tom’s escapades.
“Sergeant, what is the punishment for his crimes?”
“Well, he failed to kill anyone, hence he is charged with attempted murder and attempted kidnapping. So indentured servitude for quite a while. Unless he could pay for a prison sentence of course.”
“Right then, how about this? Tell me who sent you and I will pay for your prison time,” the colonel then went, looking to the perp. “I know you were hired to do this, so while you may be a piece of shit it’s not you that I want. Alternatively, I could start pulling strings until we get some alone time with you and make your life really fucking unpleasant.”
Sapphire looked slightly nervously to the sergeant, but he was still cowering, so she guessed Hashaw got away with threatening to break the law inside the stockade. It was a generous offer too. If this guy was going away for a long time, paying for it wasn’t gonna be cheap.
“You know my choice is death or slavery here. You can’t be dumb enough to believe they will let me live if I talk.”
“That depends on who sent you, because if it is who I think it is they won't be around to send someone to kill you after this.” Again Sapphire was fairly sure they couldn't condemn the entire Flaxen family for something like this, but hey if it works it works.
“You seriously think we take jobs directly? It’s not the client that will kill me dipshit. My boss would.” Hashaw was very clearly not pleased with that answer, as she turned to the sergeant.
“Would you agree this man is guilty, on the word of both independent tavern guards, the Royal Guard, and our two huntresses of the noble Bizmati Keep? Or do you insist on a mock trial for this piece of shit?”
The sergeant looked a tad bewildered for a second before nodding. “Yes ma’am. I’ll have him sent off to the deepest mine I can find tomorrow.”
“No, I want him handed over to the Royal Guard so we may question him as an enemy combatant.”
“You cannot do that and you know it,” the sergeant replied, finally standing up for himself. Clearly to Hashaw’s great annoyance.
“Then I want you to get me a telepath. Am I correct in assuming his rights on that matter are no longer in place even if I can’t pull his claws out?”
“Yes, but we don’t have one, ma’am. You must understand, a criminal’s mind is not exactly the kindest place to be.”
“Weak-minded cowards,” Hashaw cursed, looking away pondering. “Fine keep him here, you may continue with your excuse for questioning. I’ll be back, luckily not everyone is as weak of spine.”
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So then We have prisoners to work with once again. hopefully, they will fare a little better than the last one. then again... Maybe not. As always do let me know what you thought down below be it good bad or just generally hilarious.
until next time, have an awesome day.
​
ko-fi For having more pretty pictures commissioned.
Sapphire
Wiki Discord
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Just in case you missed it, the pancake chapter: Pancake!
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AITA for telling my mom not to speak to me until she pays back 7 years of rent?

So this is a throwaway because I'd rather this not be on my main. The current situation calls for a little back story. When my older brother and were in high school out mom explained that when we turn 18 and had graduated, whether we chose to go to college or not, she expected us to get a job and pay rent if we chose to stay home. That wasn't a problem because we were taught we have to earn what we want and plus because we'd be adults at that point so it only made sense.
​
Fast forward to last Christmas. We had a small gathering. Just my mom, two younger brothers, and me. The oldest couldn't be there as he joined the airforce out of high school and is wherever they have him. So anyway gifts were opened and everyone is just relaxing and what not. I'm talking to the brother after me. He's 18 turning 19 in February. I ask him about school, his major, and what he plans on doing. General small talk. Well, he brings up how once it's back in stock he plans on buying the PS5, a bigger TV for his room, and several other things. I chuckle and say that's a lot to drop in a single purchase joking about if he can afford that and still pay rent. He gets confused and says he doesn't pay any rent and me wanting to confirms asks and sure enough he never paid anything for rent once he got a job after graduating.
​
I dropped the conversation after that, but it didn't sit right with me, so on the 30th, I had called my mom and just asked her why she never charged my younger brother rent. The reasons and excuses I got from her were everything from "You were more responsible at his age so it made sense for you two pay" to "He needs a headstart in life". All of which honestly just made me even more upset because I always felt she was softer on the younger two growing up, but it was mostly small things so I never paid much attention to it. In the end I basically just yell at her, saying she was always favoring them and being easier on them than she was when I was their age. I said until she pays back the 7 years of rent I paid to her then I don't want to speak to her. I guess she ended up telling people because after that call I received a few calls from family members who say I was being an asshole, making my mom cry for doing her best as a parent, and etc. Even my older brother had called to say how much I ruined the holidays and I was just being greedy and that there's no way she can pay that back.
​
I don't think I was wrong, but maybe I was a bit harsh. I had no problem paying the rent itself. I have a problem being the only one who was charged and looks like I will be the only one who was charged. Just seems completely unfair. I was paying for rent, a car, food, and putting what I could in savings. I was tough, but not cruel or anything. I learned to choose between wants and needs which I think is great. So am I the asshole?
​
Because I know Reddit will ask these questions. I'm 27 male, I moved out after 25 and I paid $365 a month every month for the time I was living at home.
EDIT: So quick edit because I see a lot of the same questions popping up so I'll answer those.
What do I want out of all of this? Honestly, I don't know. I don't really care about the money just the fact they this is a long line of her playing favorites over the years. The chances of my brother ever being made to pay rent at this point are zero based on past experiences. So the demand to be paid back was just the first thing I could think of knowing that fact. And it didn't help because the whole "You're more responsible" statement has been used exclusively with me. Not just with my mom, but other family members as well.
What compromise would satisfy me? Ideally an apology for all the obvious favoritism and having my brother pay something, but again that likely will never happen.
Has your mom's financial situation changed in that time? I couldn't say. Even after I started paying rent there wasn't really any talk about finances.
I saw at least one comment asking about my biological relationship with my brothers. The oldest and I share a dare and the two younger share a dad. So we're half brothers. Our dad passed away sometime when I was young and theirs is still in the picture. He paid child support for both (still pays for the youngest) which is why I always let a lot of things slide because I always thought "well they have their dad so that why things are like that".
submitted by Rentasshole95 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]

~90% of school teachers are women. How do you feel about this with regards to the healthy development of masculine/feminine identity and social dynamics in both boys AND girls?

So, it all started with a joke by Bill Burr about raising a boy “right.”
I’d often heard this phrase but thought little of it growing up. Now, after I heard it again, I thought to myself, “wtf does that even mean? like really?” I know it meant (vaguely) “raise him to be a man” in the traditional sense, but I wanted something more substantive.
So I came across this video, and it actually gave pretty solid advice I think most fathers (and many to most mothers) would agree with.
My question is about the first point they make:
the boy comes under the supervision of kindergarten teachers, and then he goes to school, where women constitute 90% of teachers.
he’s always in the company of women, and he often lacks male education.
When I heard this, it reminded me of that scene in Fight Club
We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.
Then I thought about my sister, whom my father was absent for most her developing years, and how that influenced her expectations and interactions with men. She was wildly unprepared and found men to be quite scary and unpredictable for many years. Her husband today is a great guy, but he’s also a bit of a doormat to her. I think that’s most likely the only kind of guy she is compatible with.
I wondered how our perceptions and lives might have been different had we had more exposure to adult male interaction growing up...
There’s many areas in society where people say we should have more equal representation. How do women feel about this wrt the gender imbalance at teaching institutions?
—
Most people do not regularly attend church where they can see adult men and women interacting.
Most people do not join coed sports teams to see adult men and women interacting.
Most western families are individualistic and do not place as great an emphasis on frequent family bonding/family gathering.
For most kids, the majority of their time is at school and home - maybe an extra-curricular sport. If they desire social interaction, kids now prefer to have a screen between them rather than force themselves to physically go out and interact with people face to face.
So I’m not sure where kids, boys in particular, are going to make up this deficit in social interaction...
Do you view a 90% gender difference as a problem for the development of young children’s social psyche?
submitted by redditthrowaway1478 to PurplePillDebate [link] [comments]

Community gift subs killed my community; A warning.

Hi y'all I'm here to share an problem I have faced and after speaking to a few other female streamers, it seems to be a normal problem. There shall be no links or sales pitches and this is on a throwaway. This is also going to be a very long post.
To begin - If you are doing twitch solely for income, there is nothing wrong with that and this warning will not apply to you. If you are trying to build a community please read on. This is also mostly directed at female streamers, I am one myself, but good knowledge all around.
I'm a mid-20's part time streamer while I go to school during the day. I started streaming over a year ago. Things went well; I had an active community both on and off twitch. My twitch income was low but it was never the main focus of my stream. Unfortunately I'm a poor college student so every sub and every bit warmed my heart. I got pretty close to partner, just shy of an average number of viewers. I started a push with some goals and incentives to hit partner!
I never hit partner.
During a personal celebration stream I had someone come into chat and after posting come cute animal emotes from the other women he's subscribed to, I welcomed him in with open arms as I would anyone else. Then he gifted 100 community subs. He spoke altruistically about how my community seemed fun and he wanted to support me and my community. Everyone was hype! In my stomach I felt strange that someone came in and spent that much on my stream but gift subs were normal in my stream and even an inside joke to a degree.
I kept an eye on this new person wondering what would make someone spend that much on someone they'd watched for only a few hours. He spoke about his job and he was very open about exactly what he did. In an effort to not doxx myself or said person, let's just say it was one of those jobs that the general public assumes anyone working in makes fat bank. He had spending money and seemed to be an adult not spending his last few dollars for attention. He never made any overtly creepy comments and we often spoke about adult things. No boundaries were ever crossed.
It got weird after a few months. Around the beginning of each month he'd gift another hundred or so subs. He'd sometimes treat me like a dancing monkey asking "what is your favorite drink" "what is your favorite pizza" "what's your favorite meal" "what games have you been wanting", all innocuous questions but then he would almost always immediately donate through paypal to cover the costs for any of these things. It reminded me of when I'd be out at a bar drinking with friends and a man would come up to me and ask me nearly the same thing as an ice breaker to then buy me a drink or meal. I would often tell these men no but these are usually the type of men to not take a stern no for an answer. This isn't a flex by any means. I don't want to be someone's sugar baby, I came on twitch to build a community and maybe make money.
I believe Community subs were built for big streamers, the streamers with hundreds if not thousands of viewers. Community gift subs are not really that great for someone with less than a hundred viewers. As a celebration or one-off thing they can be fine but they were almost all handed out to bots or people who had likely opened my stream and closed it. Even worse they were often handed out to people who had followed and unfollowed. I can't begin to count how many times we had people follow and unfollow only to follow again (presumably out of guilt) when they were gifted a sub.
Long gone were the days that I'd had people making friends in chat anymore. All of my regulars slowly disappeared and all the newcomers sort of worshipped this guy. They called him generous, they called him epic, they thanked him and acted as if they were friends.
Nobody was friends with this guy. Not even me. I realized far too late he'd basically forced his way into my community. He started suggesting games for me to play and just like the men at the bar who didn't know how to take a soft no as an answer, he'd offer to pay for them. I'd naïvely added him on steam so I was constantly gifted games he'd love to see me play.
How do you say no to any of this? This isn't someone outright giving me money asking for nudes back. This isn't someone who is afraid to talk about how much he makes or spends. He was always telling me how many subs he gifted in other channels. Maybe as a brag or maybe an attempt to make me jealous. Or even worse maybe in an attempt to make me beg for those subs myself.
Streaming albeit profitable is no longer fun. Do you remember in old movies when there was often a woman singing alone on a stage and a man would walk into the jazz club and start flaunting his wealth an an attempt to woo her? That's what streaming feels like now. I no longer know anyone in my community. My dreams of reaching partner are dead as I have no desire to stream anyway. Whenever I do stream I feel more like this guy is now my pimp and he's never done ONE actual bad thing.
I've reached out to a few other female streamer friends and quite a few have very similar stories. I've come to realize a lot of these men talk like dads in chat. RANDOMLY.......capitalizing WORDS.....and using.....A LOT.....of ellipses. Once they stop using the cute animals or cute girl emotes from the streamers they subscribe to. I could theorize all day long if they have some sort of father-daughter fetish where they really want to take care of a much younger woman, but it also may just be someone who is socially dumb and believes money will solve everything.
Community gift subs alone have scared off all of my regulars. Now my chat is constantly full of people asking me who I am, following me, then thanking the very generous man who gifted them a sub and pulled them into my stream. I'm constantly getting notifications that I was gifted a sub from the same man to another woman's stream. Another common thread I found was they love to intertwine their favorite streamers. In the same way they'll push hard for you to play their favorite game and they're often not really gamers themselves, at the end of a stream when you start looking to raid someone they're quick to pipe up with a few names of people who they do the same thing to.
Beyond killing my own community, I can no longer recommend my friends who were often female as this same guy would go into their chat and gift their community another hundred subs. To see that unawareness and excitement upon getting that breaks my heart. If this guy stays and does the same thing to me as he did to them, I'd never wish that on a friend. It's not like I can pass him off to someone else either as he already seemingly does this to a handful of other women.
​
So now I write this as a eulogy for my streaming dreams on twitch. I'll never make partner. I can't just outright ban this man as he's given me so much money and I have no real reason to ban him. My discord is bare and any time I post in there to liven it up he hits back with some caring type message. I cannot talk about anything without some overtly nice input from him. I was naive in the beginning and didn't have a business paypal so he knows my full name. I've deleted my social media accounts under my real name as I never want this man to follow me off the platform. I tried to remove different aspects from my stream that even remotely incentivized money. Turned off hype train, got rid of paypal, even turned off on stream notifications. Nothing worked. He just wants to give me money. Which from the outside doesn't sound like much of a problem but it is. No longer do I have friends in chat jokingly giving bits or subs to friends. My entire stream is under his thumb and if he decides to leave then I'm back at square one as my community has been gutted. I suspect this guy with his job that you have to be pretty intelligent to partake in knows all of this too. My stream is now his.
So my only option is to quit and maybe someday stream under a new name and without a webcam. I only want this to serve as a warning to anyone else who finds themselves with someone like this in their stream. Maybe you can nip it in the bud, lest you find yourself as a dancing monkey for one wealthy man.
After reaching out to friends we realized a few things as well. Gifting 100 subs will give an affiliate around $250 in revenue and cost the gifter around $550 dollars. Whereas they could buy 25,000 twitch bits which will give the streamer $250 but only cost the bit-gifter around $350. These are already insane amounts but why would you spend $200 more dollars to give the streamer the same amount of revenue. In most cases it's a celebration of community and gives back and helps build a community.
In this case, it killed my community and made this man the one and only OG of my stream and he's likely fully aware of it. All while never actually doing anything wrong. Lots of love and be safe XOXO
submitted by RIPcommunitygiftsubs to Twitch [link] [comments]

First Contact - Third Wave - Chapter 408

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"He's trying to get behind us, get on him, Mal-Kar, get on him!" I yelled, my face pressed tight to the worn and flattened foam surrounding my gunner's sight, welding my helmet's visor to it.
"I'm trying," Mal-Kar snarled, his feet moving as he shifted the balance of the fans to slide us to the side harder.
One of the Precursor's companion vessels got a clear shot at us as we slid past a pile of rubble that had been a furniture store. The heavy graser shot caught us a glancing blow, collapsing the starboard battlescreen. The trees we had strapped to the side exploded outward, the violent blast sending burning and charred chunks of wood fountaining into the sky.
But the armor held.
Mal-Kar's maneuvers knocked down several of the smaller units, smaller than a Telkan female, and the tank's weight crushed them. There was some clattering noises as one of them hung up on a fan, but the pitch changed and I knew the fan was still running.
"Almoooost," I crooned, my foot above the firing lever.
Another Precursor machine fired, taking advantage of Feelmeenta rotating up and powering new battlescreen projector cores. The lighter machines, that we were in the middle off, were ripping at us with lasers too weak to do anything more than light up the air between us.
The sandbags that were hit by the heavy laser sagged slightly, pebbles of glass falling from the charred bags, but nothing else. The lasers concentrated on that supposed weakness, but nothing happened.
Mal-Kar found a little bit of speed and my sight slid over the massive Precursor, the size of two double decker buses end to end. The tank rocked as we ran over something slightly larger, bobbling my sight, but it leveled out at just the right time.
"SHOT OUT!" I stomped the lever and the plasma gun roared, heat backwashing into the crew compartment. Even though my Terran made armor I could feel the heat rise.
The plasma shot, the "Enhanced Lanaktallan Plasma Cannon Round Mark IV", hit square where the two articulated body sections met. The ravening psuedo-matter detonated on the armor, caving it in.
"SHOT OUT!" I fired into the hellish flames of the first shot.
The Precursor machine kept turning, but the weapons stopped firing, the battlescreens collapsed. It began crushing its own smaller brethren.
One of its two companions fired at our back deck, but we were past, the shot streaming past us to hit the dead one even as Mal-Kar spun us in place, dragging the front right nacelle to pull us around faster than we would have normally been able to move.
The one that had just fired came into my sights just as the third, fired again. The cupola rang, but the armor held.
"SHOT OUT!" I stomped the bar and the Precursor fired.
Our forward battlescreen collapsed. The wood on the front of the tank exploded, blinding me for a second, but my sight cleared and I stomped the bar again. "SHOT OUT!"
The second one exploded in place as Feelmeenta cried out in victory. The battlescreen on the port side spun up even as she rotated up a new set of cores for the forward screen and Mal-Kar slid us forward even as we rotated.
The third one fired at the exact same time as I stomped the bar.
"SHO-" I started, my durachrome hoof stomping down on the bar.
My shot hit it before it could withdraw its missile launchers, the plasma hitting perfectly. The missile bay was suddenly filled with the stuff that makes up stars, even as it started to reload from automated systems.
The Precursor exploded as its missile stores detonated.
Then it was our turn.
The missiles screamed in, almost two thirds of them picked off by our point defense. Twenty got through, impacting against the remaining logs and the sandbags. Burning wood exploded from the front of our tanks, dirt and sand blew out in a cone. The lasers played over the armor, seeking anyplace that the superconductor layer didn't dissipate heat fast enough. The two heavy mass drivers fired, one ripping off all the sandbags from the top of the cupola and snapping off the TC's weapon. The other hit the forward glacis of the turret square, most of the energy directed away by the slant of the armor.
For the most part, the armor held.
For the most part.
The front panels inside the crew cab exploded. A bright lance went through the crew compartment and Feelmeenta screamed. Mal-Kar cried out to his digital savior. I cried out in pain and terror. Lu'ucilu'u screamed from her EW panel as it exploded in her face. Karelesh howled in agony. Shrapenl scythed through the cab panels exploded, screens imploded, and part of the armor detonated into the cab. Flames roared up around us even as I heard two fans go dead. The internal fire suppression system went off, filling the cab with inert noble gas in a sudden rush even as the ventilation system suddenly cut off.
The hull rang on the port side as munitions got through the battlescreen and impacted against the wood and sandbags, but the inner lining held.
Mal-Kar kept us moving, cursing, snarling, biting off the words savagery as he steered us.
"Cycling up projectors," Feelmeenta gagged.
I could see dull red light of the burning city streaming through the hole in the cupola big enough for a Telkan to crawl through.
The last one slid into sight.
"SHOT OUT!" I yelled, and stamped the bar.
All I got back was beeping, barely audible over the wailing alarms.
The gun was empty.
A look showed me that there were still twenty-two rounds in the ammo locker.
I stomped the loading pedal.
It beeped back.
The Precursor fired again, the missiles slicing out. Point defense got all but two and those exploded against the battlescreen that had just started to spin up. I changed my grip, grabbing the controls for the coax, opening fire with the Terran 20mm autocannon.
The whole cab was full of smoke and white mist, but a glance showed me that the majority of my crew's vitals were yellow and green.
Karelesh's was flashing red.
Not X'd out.
Just flashing red.
I filed away the data as I hammered the Precursor vehicle with heavy kinetic rounds so favored by the Terran Confederacy. Another shot hit and the hull next to me suddenly acquired a slide down it a good half meter wide and two meters long.
My suit's medical alarms started wailing.
"HERE COMES THE RAIN!" Feelmeenta yelled out over our datalinks. The tank's commo system was dead.
Karelesh regained consciousness, shaking his head. He slapped the controls and the hatch for his gunner's assistant seat popped open. He grabbed the bag of antimatter grenades from the floor where they thankfully still sat undetonated as the seat rose up.
"Transponder squawking!" Lu'ucilu'u called out from the EW station.
The tank was showering sparks, the ass end dragging as I kept up the fire from the coax. The Terran rounds were shredding the armor, blowing huge craters in it, ripping it away.
To reveal more armor.
"Back, pull back," Karelesh coughed as his seat lifted him high enough to grab one of the secondary guns. It was dead, local control only, the computer linkage cut.
Mal-Kar threw the tank in reverse, ignoring that the hoverskirts of the rear plenum chambers folded back and shredded even as he applied full power to lift us up far enough to move.
Computer guided terminal guidance artillery rounds began raining down, hitting the smaller machines that my tank had been able to ignore. Huge fountains of alloys, ceracrete, ferrocrete, dirt, and burning rubble fountained into the air as the thermobaric rounds detonated.
Karelesh reached into the bag with both hands, did something, then slung the bag overhand, at the Precursor vehicle.
It landed between us even as I raked its forward sensors.
Karelesh grabbed the handle of the hatch, yanking it down after him as he dropped into the tank.
One of the return shots hit the hatch before it got closed, snatching it from his hand, hitting the twisted and wrecked missile pod and blowing it apart.
Shrapnel howled through the cab, clanking off metal.
Karelesh fell to the floor, limp, his icon burning a steady red.
But no X.
The Precursor machine rushed forward, through the falling artillery shells that were detonation around us, the terminal guidance systems IDing our transponder and steering the rounds away from us. Feelmeenta gave another cry of victory and I saw our forward battlescreen spin up as I kept raking the forward glacis of the precursor machine as it rushed us even as Mal-Kar sped us backwards.
The grenades detonated under the Precursor machine, breaking it in half, the white flare of antimatter snapping out again and again as they went off beneath the weakest point of the armor.
Mal-Kar dropped the tank onto the ground and Feelmeenta ramped up the battlescreens. We turtled up in the artillery rain, the battlescreens snarling from the blooms of plasma, the shockwaves of superheated air, and the shrapnel.
But the battlescreens held.
I coughed and looked around.
The tank was finished.
Feelmeenta had the medical kit opened and she unbuckled from the seat, half falling, kneeling next to Karelesh. She ran the scanner over him and started pulling out syringes based on the color coding and markings.
Lu'ucilu'u pinged me and I opened the channel.
"Got a SAR team coming in. My board is all over me. I'm injured, Most High," she said.
"How badly?" I asked her.
"I fear I may have to wipe my ass with a hook," she said, bitter humor in her voice.
"Do so gingerly," I advised.
She snorted as I changed the channels. "Mal-Kar, status?"
"The tank is..." he started.
"To the Digital Garbage Pile with the tank. What is your status?" I snapped.
"Hard to breathe, but the suit's medical kit is keeping me from being in pain," he said.
"No missing limbs? No missing tail? All of your eyes there?" I asked.
"No, Most High. My suit is telling me I have broken chest rings, that is all," he said.
"Relax, Mal-Kar. I do not believe our tank will be going anywhere," I told him.
The datalink pinged as I switched.
"Feelmeenta, how is he?" I asked.
"Bad. He's stable right now, thank the Digital Omnimessiah for the Terran medical kits that the Matron insisted we take," Feelmeenta said. "He lost a hand and part of his forearm, internal injuries. His armor held though."
"And you?" I asked.
"I will miss my tail," she said softly.
"Very well. SAR is on the way," I told them. I clicked through channels until I got to the recovery vehicle. "Vul'Krit, this is Ha'almo'or, do you read? Over."
"I read you, Most High," the N'Karooan said. "We're on our way, a half mile out if your transponder is still attached to your tank."
I chuckled. "I believe it is. Ha'almo'or, out."
We sat in the dark tank as the breeze moved through it. The black rain dripped in through the gaps and there was a faint flash followed by a rumble.
I heard impacts on the ground and there came a knocking at the hull.
"13th Evac SAR," came the loudspeaker projected voice.
"We are here," I called back. "We have wounded. One badly."
"The loading ramp's jammed, we'll have to pry it open," the speaker said.
"I do not think it will matter much in the grand scheme of things," I told the speaker.
Heavy gauntlets pushed through the gap, the battlesteel flexing and bending away. The hands pulled open the back loading deck, where it fell to the ground with a crash.
The logs covering it were smoking from a hit we'd taken and not even realized.
The armors looked fearsome, despite the fact they were silver.
They took Mal-Kar and Karelesh first, hurrying them out on grav-stretchers. I watched as they loaded Feelmeenta and Lu'ucilu'u onto stretchers and carried them out.
One of the armored medics knelt down next to me, looking me over.
"Are you just trapped or is your armor breached?" He asked, playing a white light over the anti-spalling liner that had curled over my rear legs.
"Trapped, I believe," I told him. "I have been holding still and trying not to give into panic."
The face shield nodded. "All right. Let's cut this away."
I held still while the heavy fusion torch built into the medic's armor cut away the liner. It fell to the floor and the pressure over my rear legs eased.
"Don't move yet," the medic told me. He scanned me again. There was a beep and he put his scanner down where my abdomen met my lower torso. "No cardiac events. Your heart was beating pretty hard, but that's to be expected in combat."
He shook his head. "You should still be in recovery, with how recent that cardiac cybernetic implant is."
"This is the duty I must perform," I said stiffly.
"I getcha. All right, let's get you out of here," he said. He cut through the jammed arm rests and helped me out of the seat. I trotted down the ramp just as the recovery vehicle pushed its way through the wreckage, backing up. Vul'Krit was half out of the driver's hatch, waving at me, as he slowly came to a stop.
The medivac striker lifted off, my loyal crew out of the fight, and I sat down on the ramp. I popped open my face shield and slowly unwrapped a Goody Yum Yum Bar, the Matron smiling at me. There was a joke printed on the inside of the wrapper.
One cannibal looks at the other and says "Does this comedian taste funny?"
The crude, horrific joke made me bray out laughter as I sat on the loading ramp, surrounded by destroyed Precursor machines. Vul-Krit moved up to me and patted my shoulder.
"How are you holding up, Most High?" He asked me.
"Much better now," I said, holding up the bar. The sweet doughy outside was delicious, and the berry gelatin interior was crisp tasting and delicious.
"Those bars are the best," he agreed. He waved his hands. "All right, crew, let's hook up the Most High's tank!"
Three hulking Tukna'rn adults exited the vehicle, two grabbing the heavy cables and pulling them along. The third carried heavy graviton lifters over to magnetically attach them to my tank.
"These guys were maintenance workers at one of the factories. I kinda told them they work for me now," the N'Karooan rubbed the top of his head where short fur was growing in. "I needed crewmen."
"I approve," I told him. I took another bite and held it in my mouth, touching it with my feeding tendrils, absorbing the taste and texture. I closed my eyes, even my two cybereyes, and relished the sensation.
"Hooked up, boss," the Tukna'rn said, slapping his hands together. I opened my eyes and saw that another one was bringing over a pack of brown bottles that I recognized as narcobrew. Vul'Krit grabbed one, opened it, handed it to me, then grabbed one for himself. The three Tukna'rn each grabbed a bottle, cracking them open with the sharp fizz of good quality narcobrew.
We sat on the back deck, drinking the thick beer, as strikers roared by overhead. Four times there was the faint flash of far away atomic blasts.
"Those Terrans can fight, boss," one of the Tukna'rn rumbled. "Never seen anyone got at the Precursors like that."
Vul'Krit nodded. "Dam crazy lemurs, but they make good food bars and narcobrew."
We fell back to silence until the narcobrews were done.
"I think I will sit on my tank," I said.
"Sure thing, boss. Be about an hour drive back anyway," Vul'Krit said. He tossed me the last narcobrew. "Drink up, boss."
I climbed clumsily around to the front of my tank, my cybernetic hoof clunking on the damaged battlesteel. I sat down and cracked open the bottle, staring at the wreckage around me as Vul'Krit began towing my tank back to the base.
Time flowed by slowly and I avoided thinking by staring at the surroundings but actually looking at nothing. I finished the narcobrew and threw the bottle into the ruins, seeing it bounce twice before shattering.
I opened up another Goody Yum Yum Bar.
Why can't you trust atoms? They make up everything.
That got another braying laugh from me.
We were moving through a section of the city that I had cleared days before, the habs all collapsed, when I spotted her.
She ran out into the street, waving a cloth, stumbling and almost falling as she chased after us.
"Vul'Krit, stop the vehicle," I ordered, standing up. I jumped down, almost collapsing from the shock of jumping from such a hieght, and trotted up to her.
I held my rifle in my hands and watched around myself with all six eyes.
"Please, help us! She can't move any more and won't wake up," the little immature female Cemtrary cried out as I got close. "She's too heavy for us to move!"
I could see her fur was singed and blood stained. She had bandages and what looked like medical gel on her in patches.
"Please, Overseer, help us," she cried out.
"Lead me to 'her', little one," I ordered.
"We covered her up with the hood of a car," she told me.
I kept close watch around us. I would not be fooled. There was the wreckage of many Precursor infantry robots around, even three of the heavier combat machines burning nearby.
It looked like they had put the hood of a vehicle over the top part of a robot. Massively thick legs stuck out from under the hood. Powerful hands, one holding a heavy thick stubber with a bird of prey done up in burning gold on the side. Around the covered prone figure were two dozen Cemtrary females, most of them holding tiny versions of themselves.
I grabbed the hood and threw it to the side.
Her face was severe, pale, I could see her skull where three heavy divots had blown bone out in a crater. I could not see her brain, but the divots blown out of her skull probably did not mean anything good for her. She had long flowing blonde hair. Her eyes were closed, blue around the corners of her mouth and nose, but she was still breathing heavily. Blood was running from her nose.
"We can't pull her, Overseer, she's too heavy," one of the Cemtrary girls said.
It was a Terran over three meters tall, entirely clad in heavy thick plates of armor. There was a bird of prey on the chest, just as it was on the weapon, the warsteel smouldering white in silent fury. She had a torch on each shoulder, the torches smouldering, and what looked like some kind of ejector system on her hip.
"I'll bet she is," I said softly. I turned on my datalink. "Vul'Krit, get a grav-dolly and a power lifter. We've got a Terran heavy power armor troop down and unconscious."
"All right, boss," Vul'Krit answered.
I knelt down, staring at the Terran. She was beautiful, in a coldly angry kind of way. She faintly smelled of incense and scorched warsteel.
The two Tukna'rn came through rubble, pulling the grav-dolly with the power-lifter on one end.
"What is that?" one of them asked.
"It's a SHE, not a WHAT," one of the Cemtrary snapped.
"Yeah," one of the smaller ones holding tight to her back added.
"A Terran," I said.
"Huh. OK, boss," one said.
"Be careful with her," another Cemtrary female added.
They carefully moved her onto the dolly. She was too heavy for the two muscular Tukna'rn to move by themselves, so they used the lifter system. I glanced at the gauge and saw that she weighed just over two tons.
"Follow me," I ordered. I pushed the grav-dolly myself, my prosthetic hoof striking sparks as I walked.
"What happened to your foot, Overseer?" one asked.
"Precursor blew it off," I told her. "I am no-one's Overseer. Call me Ha'almo'or, little one."
"Oh," she said.
I watched as the little ones climbed into the recovery vehicle, then took a hooked chain and attached the grav-dolly to my tank so we could tow the wounded Terran. One of the Tukna'rn came around to help me and hand me another nacrobrew.
I sat back on the front armor, took out another Goody Yum Yum bar and began to eat, sipping at the narcobrew as I read the wrapper.
Why was the burglar so emotional? He took things personally.
I brayed laughter as the black rain fell around me.
--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.
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jokes for adults with answers video

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25 Clever Riddles for Kids (With Answers) - YouTube

8 Adult Riddles That Will Prove You Have A Dirty Mind. These are the double meaning riddles. Some of the riddles on this video seem dirty, but they are not, ... Get ready to speed up your brain with a mix of logic questions and text riddles with answers! If you struggle with most of these riddles, you should try to a... Funny Adult Jokes IN KIDS SHOWS! Just some dirty jokes in kids cartoons like sponge bob and other stuff on nickelodeon that you didn't get as a kid! Leave a ... How to Boost Your Brain Quickly. Do you think you are smarter than other people and have exceptional logic? Test your brain and your analytical skills with o... These short and fun brain teasers with answers for adults, picture puzzles and text riddles will brighten up your mood and will force your brain to exercise ... Boost your analytical skills with a set of 12 hard riddles with answers for crime experts! Logic exercises are great to stimulate your brain activity. So be ... Most people can appreciate a funny riddle. Riddles are a good way to keep your mind busy while making it smarter. Are you looking for a fun way to entertain ... Watch this video to see the top 30 interesting Riddles with Answers. Which one of the Riddles in this Video you like much? Are you able to find answers for a... Funny adult jokes in shows not made for adults make so much more sense when you're older!If we reach 20,000 likes I will make more videos on funny adult joke...

jokes for adults with answers

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