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| 2016-10-31: An Old Debt |
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Posted by: robkelk - 09-01-2026, 07:31 AM - Forum: Stories
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This story is now available on AO3.
Meh. It's short, so have a copy. Explanatory note, if you need it, is also on AO3.
Some time during the Halloween Party
"Setsuna's full of surprises, isn't she?" asked Makoto Kino. "Who knew that she and the Doctor were-"
"The Doctor's here?" Minako Aino interrupted.
"Yeah, he's at the photo shoot, dressed as the Fourth Doctor."
"I gotta go!" And Minako ran off.
She finally found the assembled Doctors – funny how popular the costume theme was – and headed for the one who was wearing the long scarf (passing Kyousuke Kasuga going the other way). "There you are!"
The Doctor looked over, and in surprise said, "Minako?"
"You still owe me for teaching you Venusian Karate, mister!"
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| Schedule crunch - writers please action |
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Posted by: robkelk - 08-29-2026, 06:14 PM - Forum: My Apartment Manager is not an Isekai Character
- Replies (4)
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Writers, please check the Drafts list on AO3 before end of day August 31. I came up with something that might fill a gap in the posting schedule... if you'll let me post it. (I can't be the first person to think of the plot gimmick, but it is a bit silly...)
Bob, I'm having trouble with the PM system. If I specify more than one person to receive the PM, it claims that none of the recipients are registered. Even if I pull them off my Buddies list.
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| "Immortals" |
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Posted by: robkelk - 08-29-2026, 04:15 PM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play
- Replies (1)
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"Immortals", by Fall Out Boy
Official music video
Lyrics
So, Eimi, what do you think this might do?
"Well, Rob, I expect that this one only works if somebody who Doug wants to spend the rest of his life with is in the area of effect. ('I try to picture me without you, but I can't.' So, Maggie. Or Makoto.) While the song is playing, that person and Doug are... say it with me... immortal. Maybe Doug could push the effect to include teammates or close friends as well, the first time he plays the song... but I wouldn't count on it, and he'd still need to include that special person who he'd rather not live without."
Any drawbacks?
"Yes. It's only three minutes and nine seconds long, but three minutes of immortality might be enough depending on what sort of emergency they need to live through. And there's nothing in the song that says they'll survive in one piece, just that they'll survive. Doug had better have a healing song queued, just in case."
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| My Name Is Not Garrick Grimm (Story Thread) |
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Posted by: Black Aeronaut - 08-29-2026, 02:06 AM - Forum: Hangar 13
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Note: please use the commentary thread for all discussion. This will keep the story thread uncluttered and easier to peruse.
Chapter 1
Dead On Arrival
I don't know what I'm searching for
I never have opened the door
Tomorrow might find me at last
Turning my back on the past
But time will tell of stars that fell
A million years ago
Memories can never take you back
Home, sweet home
You can never go home anymore.
-The Moody Blues, “You Can Never Go Home” Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, Threshold Records, 1971
The man sighed as he polished off his energy drink, then tossed the empty can into the box in the passenger-side foot-well. It was late at night, but that was fine. The nighttime was his time. It was his element. He needed the energy drink more to help overcome the hypnotic effects of driving at night than to fight off any sort of sleepiness.
Listening to the rock-steady drone of his truck’s engine brought a small smile to his face. Affectionately dubbed “Ol' Blue” for it’s deteriorated blue paint, it was an old Ford pickup truck - a simple truck, but therein lay its charm. No thrills, no gimmicks, just an honest work vehicle.
Well, that wasn't quite true. For one thing, there was the intercooled twin-turbocharger system he'd installed, a transmission rebuilt to a high-performance specification, and a secondary-overdrive unit. But otherwise, he kept the old truck looking as close to it's stock configuration as possible.
Even though he'd been the one to first lay eyes on it, the moment he showed his mother the pictures he'd taken with his phone she immediately declared that the truck will not leave the family. Which was quite a grand way to announce that she intended to buy it. It would become an heirloom vehicle, one for which he would be responsible for the work on restoring it. So it was only natural that his brothers and sister unanimously agreed that he should have it.
And he did indeed have use for it. As a freelance engineer, his occupation brought him far and wide in the continental US. And while per diem did much to offset the cost of living in short-term fully furnished apartments and long term hotel suites, sometimes it was much better to have something familiar.
And that familiarity came in the form of a pop-top truck camper in the back. It was small, but cozy, and supplied enough of the basic comforts - a soft bed, a kitchenette, a toilet, wet-bath, and heating and air conditioning. There was even a power generator and solar panels that would allow him to boondock¹ for a few days at a time, fully separated from the civilized world except for his mobile satellite internet service. However, powering his workstation was another matter. It was so powerful that he absolutely had to be connected to shore power to run it. So he only boondocked when he was on a recreational trip.
Additionally, he had two vehicles in tow behind him: a Mazda B-Series pick-up and a Saturn S-Series coupe, dubbed Scrappy and Zipper, respectively.
Scrappy, which was really a Ford Ranger with a Mazda badge, was configured for flat-towing. With permanently mounted base plates for the tow bar, an electric brake system that actuated the smaller truck's brakes, and a custom driveshaft with a lockable coupling, it could literally be made ready to tow in under five minutes.
Zipper, on the other hand, had no such alterations. Instead, it rode on a tow dolly pulled behind the Mazda pick-up. The tow dolly itself had a surge brake system², so there was no real need for a complicated setup. Granted, getting the coupe onto the two dolly was something of a chore, it was still easy enough to manage.
While this may seem much for the old pick-up truck, it actually was within it's capabilities. While the payload capacity was roughly 1750 pounds, it's towing capacity of 8,000 lbs far exceeded that. He had made certain of that with the upgrades he'd made.
Surprising to many, the entire combination behaved itself very well at all speeds. Between the smaller truck having it’s own brakes operated by the electric trailer brake system and the surge brakes on the tow dolly, stopping wasn’t too much of an issue. And highway patrols never gave him any trouble over it. And if they did? He had the non-commercial class-A driver's license that satisfied all requirements. There’d even been a state trooper that stopped to check out the combination system at a rest stop, and he had been duly impressed with how cleanly integrated everything was.
But this man was good about these sorts of things. As an engineer by both inclination and profession, he loved little more than assembling clever systems like this one and putting them through their paces.
As for why he’d have this many vehicles only to himself? There was actually an element of practicality. Holding degrees in mechanical, electrical, and aerospace engineering made for an incredibly wide field of work, and these jobs often needed him to haul his own specialty tools to the jobsite. Engineers don’t always sit in comfortable office chairs all day - there were days where they got their hands good and dirty by working out in the field. This usually entailed measuring all kinds of things - dimensions, weights, densities, speed, rotation, vibration, shock, strain, fatigue, pressure, flow, temperature, current, voltage, and resistance just to cover the basics.
And, because lives typically depended on him getting things right the first time every time, these measurements were usually done with highly precise equipment. Such equipment was used often enough by an engineer that employers typically expected him to have such tools in his possession. It was only for the most esoteric needs that a tool that was special, even for him, was called for. Fortunately, these actually were provided by his employer du jour.
This meant having a light duty truck like his little Scrappy was an absolute essential. While Ol' Blue was for hauling his camper and towing his other vehicles, the Mazda served as his actual work truck, used to haul his tools of the trade out to jobsites. And, of course, Zipper was used for commuting to the office and the more mundane tasks of running personal errands.
As he descended a steep hill, he noticed that there was fog covering the valley up ahead. He pushed down on the brake pedal, automatically canceling the cruise control, and began to slow the combination vehicle quickly, but not dangerously so. Just to be safe, he then tugged on the hazard lights switch on the steering column.
It wasn’t the season for fog, really, but he didn’t let that bother him. Weather in South Texas - especially during the winter time - can be pretty chaotic. It was not unusual to see the daily low and high temperatures swing by as much as forty degrees Fahrenheit, and to have sunny skies one day, and then freezing rain and sleet the next. Once, he’d even seen a sun-shower that rained on only one side of a downtown street in San Antonio.
Suddenly, the fog cleared revealing a grassy meadow with a large house by a lake. Immediately, the truck began to jostle. His adrenaline surged as he realized that he had somehow left the freeway.
There was no time for thought. He shoved his panic to the back of his head and simply acted.
Foot Notes:
Boondocking is where someone literally camps out with their RV, relying only on it's own facilities without any shore power, water, or sewage connections. Surge Brakes are mechanically operated automatic brakes for trailers that are heavy enough to mandate having a braking system. Though transportation codes in the USA technically specify electric brakes, surge brakes are generally accepted as well due to having a certain advantage. That being that they automatically apply themselves in power that is proportionate to the towing vehicle's deceleration, granting smooth, gradual braking without sacrificing the ability to make an emergency stop. For electric trailer brakes to have this? They require more sophisticated electronics than what standard electric brake controllers possess, and they usually need to be recalibrated if and when switching from one trailer to another.
At her preferred spot in the grand atrium of her lab, Washu Hakubi stopped for a moment, getting up from her levitating cushion in front of her central terminal to stretch her legs. Even though she could make it so she didn’t need to, she actually enjoyed the sensations of a corporeal body.
For a moment, she let her mind wander, and it quickly drifted to the events of the last year.
Kagato’s death and her release.
Meeting Tenchi Masaki and learning of his incredible abilities.
Little Sasami and her other half, Tsunami.
The shenanigans of her daughter, Ryoko, and Princess Aeka as they bickered.
Learning about Seina Yamada and his weapons-grade misfortune.
So many changes in so little time.
Really, Washu was quite happy about it. Everything always being in such a state of flux was a stark contrast between the present and her time imprisoned by Kagato.
Just then, the proximity sensor system she had in place around the Masaki residence suddenly sounded an alarm. Quickly, a holographic screen was summoned, displaying footage from a sentry drone she had patrolling the area outside.
She raised a speculative eyebrow at what she saw: an old cargo vehicle - she believed it was called a ‘pickup truck’ - pulling two other vehicles behind it, and barreling across the property at an absolutely reckless speed.
The driver floored the brakes, causing the wheels on the front axle to lock-up. But the rear axle wheels rapidly locked and unlocked.
Ah, a rudimentary traction control system. Simple, but effective enough.
Though Washu did begin to sweat a bit as the truck got progressively closer to the house. Quickly, she ran the math through her head, estimating the speed and mass of the combination vehicle based on the minutia she could observe such as how the suspension behaved under the load.
She didn’t like what she was seeing. The driver didn’t have a chance of stopping in time!
Washu was just about to act when she saw something that nearly made her heart stop. It all happened so fast that she had to replay what she saw in her mind’s eye several times before she was fully certain that she actually saw what she saw.
First, the driver let off the brakes, and then, to her shock, opened the throttle wide, causing the rear tires to spin.
This might seem insane to the uninitiated, but there was good reason for the driver doing this.
With this, he had no traction on the rear axle, but the wheels up front had plenty. He thus cut the steering wheels quickly and sharply toward the lake. The effect was immediate - the trailing vehicles in-tow pushed from the rear, slewing the rear-end of the tractor vehicle to the side.
Immediately afterward, he let off the throttle and cut the steering wheels back in the opposite direction - towards the house. Instead of turning towards the house, though, the pick-up truck began to turn away.
He was steering into the skid.
While it did not appear so, the initial jacknifing of his combination vehicle was turning his truck away from the house, and steering in the opposite direction made the front end of the truck turn back towards the house. In short, he achieved equilibrium between the trailing vehicles pushing from behind and his steering wheels leading the truck.
And then he applied the brakes, but only those of the middle vehicle using the override control of the electric trailer brake system.
Shockingly, the entire combination straightened itself out as the driver lined up his steering wheels with the new orientation, running parallel to that side of the house. Only the rear-most vehicle fishtailed, and only a little bit, even as he came to a careening stop just shy of the boardwalk that extended over the lake.
Washu let loose the breath she’d been holding. She knew she shouldn’t have been so concerned, but even so...
She had to admit, that was damn impressive skill. Getting such a combination vehicle under control by seemingly losing control took incredible skill and nerves of steel. Now, she definitely wanted to meet this person, if for no other reason than to congratulate them on doing something that even a seasoned Galaxy Police officer might have trouble with.
And, regardless, she felt it was best to go and confront this stranger who so suddenly appeared.
Leaving her lab and exiting the house through the front entrance, she went around to the side of the house where the truck had stopped.
Briefly, she was taken aback. The truck was absolutely enormous. At least, by the standards of the Japanese people. But given the two other vehicles it was pulling, it’d have to be at least this large.
And then she saw the driver.
Male.
Moderate height for a human - he was just a few centimeters taller than Tenchi.
Not Japanese at all. High forehead, high cheek bones, and a sharp and prominent nose made the likelihood of that highly improbable. Not to mention his eyes. He had deep, expressive eyes with thick, yet finely shaped eyebrows. And those eyelashes! They must have made other women go green with envy.
His hair was long, dark, thick, and cascading around his face with natural, vertical curls that Washu knew for certain some women would kill for.
This guy was unusually pretty for a male.
Washu couldn’t quite pin down his ethnicity. Maybe he is an American? That place was such a melting pot of ethnic groups.
He was young, too. Maybe he was sixteen or eighteen years old? But something about him made her think that he was actually a lot older than that.
He looked a bit unsettled, and rightfully so! While Washu could make a good estimate on exactly how much adrenaline he had pumping through his system right then, that didn’t mean she envied him for it! It spoke volumes of his countenance that he was coping as well as he was, trying to put himself at ease by seeing to the disposition of his combination vehicle and its cargo.
Washu then cleared her throat.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she called out in Japanese.
The young man jolted with a shout and snapped around to look at her.
He then sighed in relief and spoke using English.
“Jeeze, you startled me there.” He then sheepishly looked at his combination vehicle and the deep tracks it had left in their yard and said, “Sorry about this mess.”
“He-eh?” said Washu in interest. He seemed pretty sharp, all things considered. But just how sharp was he, she wondered. “You don’t speak Japanese, do you?” she said, still using the local language.
He blinked at her once again in surprise.
“Ah, no,” he said, his own Japanese coming out very clumsily. “Little-little Japanese. Very few words.”
And that clinched it for Washu.
“So you are an American then!” she said brightly in English.
He gave Washu a nonplussed look at that.
“Ah, pardon my ignorance little miss, but can you tell me where I’m at?”
Washu was so pleased. An honest admission of ignorance! Because being able to admit you didn’t know everything was a sign of a true genius. After all, no matter how much you’ve already learned, there was always something new to learn. Even if you had to be the first person to learn it. This was the real driving force behind the minds of the Philosophers at the Galaxy Academy.
And it also helped that he called her a “little miss”! He’d just earned himself some serious brownie points for that alone.
“Sure!” declared Washu cheerfully. “You’re in Japan. And if I'm guessing right, you were someplace else before hand.”
“Texas,” he confirmed, his nonplussed expression intensifying.
Washu nodded her head. It was a serious situation, but this guy was hitting all the right buttons to make her happy, so it was hard to keep a smile off her face.
“Well, why don't we see if we can get you sorted out?” she said. Because, stranger or not, this man suddenly being transported half-way around the planet with his vehicle definitely warranted further investigation.
“Uhm, mind if I use the toilet first?” asked the young man suddenly.
“Sure sure,” said Washu breezily. After all, she saw no issue with that, and it would be understandable if he felt the need to relieve himself after such a scare. “Go around the side, here, and around the corner will be the main entrance. Just go straight from there and you’ll find the toilets. There’s two of them, so pick either door. Just don't go stomping around and waking anyone up.”
“Thanks,” said the young man and he turned to make his way inside. Washu had no concerns about it. It was obvious he was just scared, and she somehow got the sense that this person was someone she could trust.
Strange, that. She rarely ever got that sense about anyone. And 20,000 years of life experience gave one an incredible ability to read people.
While she waited, she began to examine the vehicle and the vehicles in-tow.
The truck was an example of simple and forthright engineering. Uncomplicated to minimize maintenance and upkeep. A large, reciprocal cylinder engine fueled by hydrocarbons was the power plant. Not the most efficient thing, but good enough to do the job. Judging by her scans, this engine was solidly built and capable of delivering a surprising amount of torque and power.
Primitive indeed, yet forthright in execution! As anachronistic as they were, Washu did so dearly love systems like these! How they made use of lesser technology to achieve effective results showed a stubborn sort of genius - one which was worthy of appreciation and respect, as far as she was concerned.
Just then, there were two shouts of surprise from inside the house - one female and the other male - followed quickly by the sound of wooden furniture being smashed.
Washu’s heart sank and she turned to run inside as quickly as possible.
Ryoko cracked an eyelid when she heard the commotion outside. She had been just about to go investigate it when Washu popped out of her lab and quick-marched straight to the entrance and out the door in a flash.
With that, she mentally shrugged and tried to settle back in. She could tell from her link to her mother that Washu was not agitated at all.
In fact, she was downright impressed by something.
Whatever! It wasn’t her business.
Just as she was about to drift off, though, a tightness down in her pelvic area made itself known.
Her bladder was full.
Of all the times... Ryoko then stopped there, mid-thought, and sighed to herself. Well, I did put away a good amount of sake before going to sleep earlier. Jeeze, what was I thinking?
After all, she had decided to try being more “human” lately in an effort to better relate to Tenchi. And allowing bodily functions like urination and defecation instead of just converting all the mass into energy was something that, while unpleasant at first, gave a wonderful sense of relief afterwards.
So, she simply reminded herself that she should look forward to the blissful relief as she rolled out of her bed (such as it was), and then teleported as she drifted towards the bathroom.
She had been finishing up her business inside when she heard the door up front open, and then close.
At first, Ryoko simply put it off as Washu finally coming back inside after dealing with... whatever was happening outside.
But then she noticed something odd.
As clichéd as it was, it was too quiet in the entry hall. Even for Washu, because she would at least make sure her footfalls were audible. Not that Ryoko couldn’t hear them at all, but they were so soft and so gentle that it hardly made any difference.
Soon, though, she could make out a heartbeat. But it didn’t belong to anyone she knew, and that immediately set Ryoko on edge.
Quickly and quietly, she made herself decent again. She didn’t even bother with the door and simply phased through it.
A strange face with tired eyes greeted her, but once they registered her presence, the person suddenly let out of shout of surprise. That startled Ryoko - enough that her initial fight-or-flight response quickly settled on “fight” - and she let out a shout of surprise as well.
And then she punched him.
Not hard. After all, she wouldn’t want to deal with that kind of mess, especially at this hour.
But then, as she saw the person soar through the air, she suddenly realized that there might be a whole different kind of mess to clean up.
As they landed against the small entryway cabinet where the telephone was kept, buried amidst the other sounds of cracking and splintering wood, there was a different sounding sort of crack.
Ryoko somehow knew for sure that this night was going to be one she would never forget. And probably for all the wrong reasons.
Washu assessed the situation immediately upon entering the entry way. It only took her a mere second to conclude that it was as close as possible to being the worst-case scenario.
The stranger was slumped against the shattered remains of the entryway cabinet. He was not moving at all, and his neck was at an odd angle, but he was still conscious. And standing over him with a horrified look on her face was Ryoko.
Disregarding her daughter for the moment, she went to examine the young man so she could verify her initial assessment. She had to be careful here - at this point, the slightest wrong move could end him right then and there.
“Hey, are you alright?” she cried out. “Say something! Anything!”
His face was completely blank as he could no longer control the muscles to make facial expressions. But his eyes...
In her 20,000 years of life, Washu had watched many people die. She never liked it. It was always unpleasant business, be it a person with ill-intentions, or someone who’d been under her medical care.
It never got any easier to deal with. Because while it wasn’t the first time, the last thing she liked to see was someone realize that they’re dying and lose all hope.
And even though he couldn’t really emote at that time, Washu could see everything in his eyes.
A life unfulfilled. Someone who was robbed at just about every turn. An existence that was more cursed than blessed. And now this: a sudden and tragic end from an ignominious accident. The knowledge that they were dying, and that there was nothing that could be done to stop it from happening.
They didn’t even have the chance to pass on any last words in the final minutes of their life.
What was worse was that Washu could tell that, as far as he was concerned, this only made sense. A horrible, twisted sort of sense, but still a sense that was rooted soundly in the hardest and coldest of all logic.
“Oh HELL NO!” cried out Washu, because she was not about to let this sort of thing happen if she could help it. She instinctively knew that this was a man who had potential to do great things... but somehow, everything that was important to him had been taken away, and his own life was just the last thing left to him that really mattered at all.
“RYOKO!” called out Washu, immediately summoning her daughter to her side. “Tell me what happened.”
“It... it wasn’t... I didn’t mean it!” stammered Ryoko in a way that was almost out of character for her. Meanwhile, Washu had opened a small portal into a subspace pocket and began to rummage through the contents inside, looking for the one thing that would save this man’s life.
“I know you didn’t!” said Washu, trying not to snap at her daughter. “Just tell me what happened.”
“I just finished using the toilet and when I went through the door, he was just there! I barely even heard him! So I...”
Washu stopped for only a second as she shot Ryoko an astonished look.
“You didn’t hear him coming!?”
“Barely! I could hear his heartbeat. But it didn’t sound like anyone else I know! And since that was pretty much all I could hear...”
Washu could only stare in astonishment. How was it possible that someone could tread so lightly that someone like Ryoko could only barely hear them!?
Quickly, though, Washu regathered herself and her hand finally latched onto what she was looking for.
“AH-HAH!” she cried out triumphantly as she pulled out a small, oblong object. Her TDS - the Thoracic Diaphragm Stimulator - guaranteed to keep a man breathing no matter what, or double your money back.
“Boy, I am so glad I never throw anything like this out. Hang on, mister, we'll get you through this.”
With that, Washu carefully pulled the bottom of his shirt up, just enough so she could seat the device at the bottom-end of his solar plexus.
Suddenly, there was a strong inhalation as his diaphragm began to work once again.
The look in his eyes changed slightly. There was now a tiny spark of hope. But overlaying that was something else.
Why are you going so far for me?
“Alright,” said Washu with a sigh. “That Thoracic Diaphragm Stimulator should keep you alive for the moment. Now, I’d ask you to sit still, except that’s a given. Let’s see if we can move you.”
With that, Washu gently felt around his neck, carefully probing for where the bones were all at.
“Well?” asked Ryoko.
Washu nodded. “It’s pretty much as bad as it can be without being instantly fatal. We’ll need to be careful about it, but we can move him.”
“Okay,” said Ryoko. “What do you need me to do.”
It didn’t take long. Washu was good at giving directions, and Ryoko was not in the mindset to mess this up.
Just as they got him laid out in the entryway, though, people began to show up.
Mihoshi stirred the moment she heard the sounds outside. Sitting up, she had a blank look in her eyes as she operated purely on instinct. Reaching out to her side, she retrieved her GP subspace storage device, manipulated it like it was a Rubik’s Cube, causing it to take on all kinds of different shapes, textures, and colors as she did so, and then caught her standard issue particle projector pistol as it appeared out of thin air.
Clad only in her comfiest underwear, she left her room without any regard to modesty at all - her sun-colored curly hair all disheveled and her chocolate-brown skin on display everywhere.
Really, she would have slept nude. As a Seniwan, she was accustomed to long, harsh winters and perpetually tundra-like climates. So the summer nights in Japan were absolutely torrid to her.
But she did at least understand that even if she didn’t really care about her body being seen by others, it still made some people uncomfortable. Her loose fitting tank top and comfiest panties were her compromise so long as she was in her room. And, under normal circumstances, she would have put on a bit more before leaving said room.
However, this was important. There was a stranger here. And sometimes strangers can be very dangerous. How others felt about seeing her body did not matter when someone she cared about could be hurt.
Her face was still blank as she quietly took up a position on the second-floor mezzanine that overlooked the front hallway and entryway.
She saw Washu come into the hallway from the den and then leave through the entryway.
She saw Ryoko phase into existence just below her as the former pirate made way for the toilet.
It was only then her conscious mind finally woke up.
She blinked in confusion as she noticed that she had her pistol gripped firmly in her hands and was in a ready-stance to aim and fire. She then relaxed as she put a finger to her lips, deep in thought.
Ehhhh-uuuuhhhmmm... What was I doing now?
Her confusion was short-lived, because that was when the stranger came in through the entry way. Mihoshi nearly panicked, but caught herself at the very last second as she realized that if she made any sound, the stranger would notice her. Once she mastered herself, she then aimed her pistol at the stranger, watching him intently for the slightest hint of aggression.
That aggression never came.
Instead, he carefully slipped his shoes off, and then did the most peculiar thing. He covered his eyes and stayed that way for a short moment.
Some part of Mihoshi’s mind, somewhere far, far away, noted that he was forcing his eyes to adjust to the near-total darkness inside. That meant that this person was very used to moving in dark places.
It was very suspicious. But he was still not doing anything wrong.
Yet.
But what happened next made the police girl very nervous. Treading so softly that she couldn’t hear his foot-falls, he slowly made his way down the hall, taking short steps so not even his clothing rustled, and obviously listening to himself for any sound whatsoever.
Mihoshi had to keep herself from making any sound herself. That was SCARY! It was almost like he was a ghost!
Is he a ghost!? Oh no, please don’t let him be a ghost! I don’t have anything I can use to fight against a ghost!
However, Mihoshi quickly realized that she could hear the faint, tell-tale sound of a heartbeat coming from him. It was something all GP officers could do once they received their body modification.
Additionally, she sensed no bad intentions from this stranger. In fact, it seemed like he had no desire to cause any trouble at all. Which was why he was being so very quiet. He didn’t want to disturb anyone!
Oh! He must be a really nice person, then.
Just as Mihoshi was starting to relax, there was the two shouts of surprise, a meaty-sounding impact, and then the sight of the stranger suddenly flying down the hallway and crushing the cabinet by the entryway.
And her sensitive ears clearly heard the sound of bone snapping.
Oh no! This is bad! Really really bad! That’s a big owie. Someone can die from an owie like that!
Before Mihoshi could do anything, though, Washu came in and started to take care of things.
Mihoshi sighed in relief. Washu-chan was super-good at fixing people. She didn’t need to worry about anything now.
Once more, Mihoshi began to relax, only for someone to make her practically jump out of her skin.
“Mihoshi?”
“KYAAAHHH!!!” cried out the nearly-naked police girl. But then, she saw who it was.
“Oh! Tenchi-kun! I’m so glad it was just you.”
“Sorry, Mihoshi,” said Tenchi sheepishly. But then, his expression became serious. “What’s going on down there?”
“I dunno,” replied Mihoshi helplessly. “I heard something happen outside... Or at least I think I did? Yeah, that had to be it. Because then Washu-chan went outside to see what was happening. So I waited here, and then Ryoko came out and went to the toilet.”
Mihoshi’s face then lit up in realization.
“Oh! Ryoko must be practicing being human! I thought that was kinda strange.”
Tenchi blinked at her, nonplussed by the non sequitur.
“But what about what happened outside?” asked Tenchi leadingly.
Fortunately, the tactic worked and Mihoshi was brought back on track. It had been difficult at first, but he was starting to learn how to handle the seemingly air-headed police detective by guiding her eidetic memory playbacks.
“Oh! Right! Well, I dunno what was happening outside, but then that stranger came inside. I didn’t understand why he was there. But then, I knew that if Washu-chan let him in, then it must be okay.
“But then he did something really spooky!”
“Spooky?” repeated Tenchi.
Mihoshi nodded her head vigorously. “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! After he took his shoes off, I couldn’t hear him moving! The only thing I could hear at all was his heart going doki-doki-doki.”
Tenchi was following along, but it took him a second to realize the importance of that statement.
“Wait!” he cried out in surprise. “You could hear his heart beat? And that was the only sound he was making!?”
“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” replied Mihoshi, nodding her head again. “I can hear everyone’s heart beating if its quiet enough. All GP officers can after they get their body modification. It does take a lotta practice, but I could do it almost right away!”
She then beamed a big smile at Tenchi - one that he had quickly learned from Ryo-Ohki that meant “I did a good! Praise me! Praise me!”
Tenchi laughed somewhat sheepishly and then patted Mihoshi’s head.
“That is very good. But what about that stranger?”
“What stranger?” came another voice as someone else joined them. It was Princess Aeka, clad in her sleepwear and giving them a confused look. “Lord Tenchi? Mihoshi? What is going on down there?”
“There was a stranger,” said Tenchi. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm to us because Washu-chan was with him.”
“Right!” replied Mihoshi. “But he was so quiet he even scared Ryoko when she came out of the toilet!”
“What!?” cried out Aeka. “He scared Ryoko!? How?”
Tenchi answered for Mihoshi before she could repeat everything all over again.
“He was somehow so quiet that Ryoko didn’t hear him coming.”
Aeka’s expression became deadly-serious.
“Is he a threat of some kind?”
Mihoshi, though, shook her head. “I could tell, he is a very nice person because he didn’t want to bother anyone. He just wanted to use the toilet. But he saw Ryoko and yelled, which made her yell, and then POW! Mister Stranger went ZOOM and CRASH, and got a very big owie.”
“A big owie?” said Tenchi in confusion.
Mihoshi nodded again, but this time it was a more solemn expression.
“His neck got broken and he almost died.”
Tenchi and Aeka could only stare at Mihoshi in shock. While they were no strangers to death, it was another matter to have that specter visiting within the very walls of their own home. What’s more, they both knew that even as strange as Mihoshi could be at times, she was never one to embellish a turn of events like that.
Mihoshi went on, unabated. “That was when Washu-chan came in. She got very worried...”
Mihoshi then... hesitated.
“Mihoshi?” asked Tenchi.
“His eyes,” she said, almost like she was someplace else far away. “He was so sad. Even though he couldn’t move his face, I could see it. He knew he was gonna die. And that no one would ever know about him. A lonely life, and a lonely death.”
Mihoshi then seemed to come back to herself.
“That was what made Washu-chan so upset. After that, she became the super-serious Washu-chan! The one who only shows up when things are really bad.”
With that, their collective attention turned back to the controlled chaos going on by the entry way.
“Should... we go down and help?” asked Aeka, uncertainly.
Tenchi, though, shook his head. “We’d only be getting in the way.”
As though to confirm this, Washu looked up at the second floor railing, and then made several one-handed gestures. These were standard Galaxy Police hand signs.
Without being prompted to, Mihoshi translated the signs for Aeka and Tenchi.
“Remain in place. Situation is stable. Will report again in five minutes.”
All they could do was watch helplessly. And in that moment, it became obvious from the glimmering dampness on his face that he had been crying.
“He must be terribly confused right now,” said Aeka.
“There may be more to it than that,” said another voice.
Everyone jolted, then turned to find Tsunami, standing tall and regal in her elaborate robes.
“Tsunami-sama!” said Tenchi in surprise. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Unfortunately, not at this time,” replied the Choushin. “All I do know right now is that I sensed an incursion in this dimension. And now we have this man down there.”
“He came from another world?” said Aeka in surprise.
“Indeed,” replied Tsunami, nodding her head. “Though what world it was, I have no idea. All I can say is that it is not a world that any of us Choushin are responsible for.”
“So,” began Tenchi, “when you say that there may be more to it...”
Tsunami nodded her head. “He may very well have just lost everything that is dear and precious to him. For that reason, I would advise great care in dealing with him for the moment.”
“Why is that?” asked Aeka.
“There is a saying,” said Tenchi quietly, “that the most dangerous thing in the world is a man with nothing left to lose.”
“Indeed,” agreed Tsunami in a solemn tone.
“So...” said Aeka ponderously. “We treat him with respect?”
“No,” said Mihoshi, her tone uncharacteristically sober. “Respect is nice, but... he is hurting inside. We need to be kind to him.”
“Exactly,” said Tsunami. “I am sorry for imposing on all of you, but I would like you to keep him here. At least until I can find out why he is here. I get the sense that he may be in some kind of danger, but from what, I’m not sure.”
Everyone looked to each other, and then all eyes fell on Tenchi.
Tenchi sighed. “Alright. We’ll keep him here for now. I’d feel really bad anyways if we just threw him out once he’s healed.”
“Thank you,” replied Tsunami. “I’m going to let Sasami take over now. But in the meantime I will be investigating this matter from my end.”
With that, the Choushin suddenly glowed brightly and shrunk in on herself, taking on a much smaller form: that of Sasami Masaki.
“I already saw everything as Tsunami,” said the girl. “I don’t think anyone is going to be able to go back to sleep after all this, so I think it would be a good idea to make some snacks for everyone.”
There was a soft murmuring of agreements, and the group then made their way into the living room and then down the stairs.
However, they all pulled up short as Washu and Ryoko entered the room from the hallway, guiding the stranger on a levitating gurney.
“Washu-chan?” said Tenchi, uncertainly.
The small scientist stopped the gurney with a touch and turned to Tenchi.
“Everything is going to be alright, Tenchi. I already gave him an injection of surgical nanites and his spinal nerve is being mended right now. However, I’m going to have to keep him immobilized until the damage to his cervical spine is fully repaired. In the meantime, though, I’m going to be getting the entire story from his perspective.”
“It’s all gonna be okay, Mister,” came Sasami’s voice all the sudden. Turning around, Washu and everyone else saw that Sasami had gone to the side of the gurney without anyone noticing. She was gently dabbing at the stranger’s face with a handkerchief, drying his tears.
“Washu-chan is a good person. She’ll make sure you get better.”
Washu reached over and gently touched Sasami on the shoulder.
“I need to take him into my lab, now. I promise, you’ll see him again when he’s better.”
Sasami only silently nodded her head and then went back to Tenchi’s side. With no further interruptions, Washu opened the door to her lab, and the gurney then followed her inside, carrying the stranger with it.
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My Name Is Not Garrick Grimm (Commentary Thread) |
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Posted by: Black Aeronaut - 08-29-2026, 01:55 AM - Forum: Hangar 13
- Replies (6)
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Yeesh. I really oughta clean up in here.
Speaking of cleaning up, I've still been working on this ghastly thing. And this is, in part, thanks to my gaining an even better understanding of Tenchi Muyo.
Now, the most important thing to understand about TM is that it has a number of different continuities for you to choose from.
The most controversial being the original OVA series, guided primarily by Masaki Kajishima. Why? Because this show - this specific continuity, even - was the trope-namer for the ultimate solution of who to marry: The Tenchi Solution (aka Marry Them All).
Once this tidbit came out, there were a lot of Ryoko-fanboys here in the USA (the largest faction by far in this theater of the Waifu Wars) that had autistic meltdowns over this because, in their head-canons, Ryoko should be Tenchi's one and only, and all the others are trash. And from that point on, all of them just kept looking for ways to hate on the OVA series, including spreading the rumor that Masaki Kajishima drove all the other creative minds away.
(BTW: This rumor is utterly false, and the people he supposedly "drove away" would dearly wish for you to stop spreading that rumor. This rumor came by way of Masaki Kajishima and Hayashi Hiroki talking things out after the production of OVA 1, and coming to the realization that their creative visions differed quite wildly. So, rather than be at loggerheads over it, they agreed amicably to part ways. Kajishima has otherwise been kind, generous, and supportive of everyone else's endeavors, going as far as to even share his own story notes and character designs with others like Naoko Hasegawa.)
And despite some of the hate this continuity gets, it's the one that's most popular with fans back in Japan. Probably because Kajishima-sensei's vision for this has always been something like the old Japanese TV-serial period dramas about feudal samurai lords and their intrigues, served up with a scoop of romantic comedy, and garnished with science-fiction.
And then there's the sheer scope of this story.
It literally spans eons, outdoing other more well known franchises like Star Wars or Frank Herbert's Dune saga.
And this isn't just something that's buried in apocrypha. Both animes, Proton: The Idiot Adventures and Dual! Parallel Trouble Adventure are part of this continuity, and occur millions of years before the events of the OVA series.
In essence? Maskai Kajishima is telling a never-ending story.
But even here on The Forums, the show has it's detractors.
I know Bob doesn't like it because of something that Washu did to Ryoko. To which I contest that the other incarnations of Washu are even more screwball - one continuity even has her as an outright criminal and Ryoko was an actual space pirate and her partner in crime. As for what happened in Kajishima's rendition that Bob didn't like? It was the whole thing at the end of OVA 2 where Washu had locked up Ryoko in her lab in what was pretty much a sensory deprivation chamber. (Which is actually a thing some psychologists may prescribe, though this is usually with the patient's consent or that of the patient's parent/guardian. It is considered to be especially therapeutic for people with severe Autism as it grants a momentary respite from the outside world that overwhelms their senses.)
But Washu had a purpose in mind when she did that - that being breaking Ryoko's psyche so that she could be rehabilitated. The whole thing with her making Ryoko "cry for mommy" was supposed to get her back in touch with her own humanity, which had been buried under hundreds of years of heinous acts when she was under the control of Kagato.
But even so, it rubbed Bob wrong to have it done that way. It probably isn't helped by the fact that Washu was actually enjoying hearing Ryoko cry for mommy. But this is one of those things you have to take with a grain of salt. Washu literally has 20,000+ years of contiguous life-experience, and with all the highs and lows that such a long life implies. She's gonna have a bit of Blue-and-Orange morality going on, and thus come off as being at least somewhat unhinged. (Also, keep in mind that Washu's feelings towards Ryoko are similar to that of Hild towards Urd in Oh! My Goddess - she wants Ryoko to acknowledge her as her mother without any reservation.)
And I know Brent doesn't like it because they took his favorite dojiko from the series, Mihoshi, and gave her background a story that has actual substance to it. He didn't seem to like the idea that Mihoshi inherited an ability to passively warp causality to her favor from her several-greats grandmother, Washu, and that she often does so unwittingly as she bumbles around. Or that she was once-upon-a-time a very competent (if still kinda clumsy) police detective and the reason she seems so airheaded now is because of an accident she suffered while in the pursuit of her duties as a detective.
But this all makes sense if you think of the Galaxy Police in Tenchi Muyo as an actual organization committed to upholding the law in the greater galaxy, and not just a collection of straight-men who only seem to exist so that a punchline can be pinned on them. Otherwise, if Mihoshi had always been like that? Then she would never have made the cut to become a detective.
Instead, Brent much prefers the idea that Mihoshi is just an adorable airhead who is incredibly clumsy and somehow has the luck of the heavens on her side. It's a much more simple, cut-and-dry archetype that is an easy source of comedy.
In fact, from what I've pieced together, he seems to like most of his characters to be simple as he grew up on Carl Barks's Disney comics. With certain exceptions, of course - those being the Hero-That-Saves-The-Universe archetypes like Utena Tenjou and Tsukino Usagi.
But that's not to take anything away from Brent. I myself grew up on Looney Tunes and Tom and Jerry, and it shows whenever my Sneaky-Playful Trickster side comes to the fore. But some part of me, even back then, knew and understood that these were simply caricatures.
To me, real "characters" were the ones who had incredible and utterly life-altering adventures - like Atreyu and Sebastian in The NeverEnding Story, and Luke Skywalker and Han Solo in Star Wars. And characters like Bugs Bunny and Jerry Mouse simply existed to show you how to pull the rug out from under someone.
Thus, unlike Bob and Brent, this is why I like Kajishima's Tenchi Muyo. I deeply appreciate stories where, even if they are following the basic archetypes, each character is their own person with their own story, and it just happens to tie into this greater story like threads in a tapestry. Everyone has a motive. Everyone's actions have repercussions. From the drollest of side-characters to the most heinous of villains. There is no true status quo as everything is in motion and ever changing. And even though it may often rhyme, history is not repeating itself over and over again.
That said, I'm still going to be borrowing a bit from the mangas drawn by Hitoshi Okuda in order to inject a little more space opera into the overall plot. It's not too hard to transplant the characters and events since the Okuda manga diverge from the OVA timeline after OVA 2. However, there are still changes that I need to make to make them all compliant with Masaki Kajishima's cosmology.
As for Garrick here? He's still based on me, but with a few caveats.
Here's something to wrap your heads around: what would a Mary Sue in real life be like? What drives a person to be that kind of "perfect"? What happens when you deconstruct the trope and build up a living, breathing person around that framework?
I can assure you from my past experiences: What causes someone to become Mary Sue is nothing good. Nothing good at all.
You see, this is one of my biggest personality flaws - that I have the in-born autistic trait of wanting to get everything right. And my stepfather made it even worse by demanding utter perfection in everything I did, and punishing me every time I failed to meet his expectations... which were so extreme that even a competent adult would have difficulty doing.
And as if that wasn't enough, that led to me pretty much being brainwashed to think that I am nothing special. After all, how could I be anything but pond scum if I can't even accomplish "simple tasks"?
And, unfortunately, this is something that Real Life has done a very, very good job of reinforcing with this world becoming ever more demanding that people do everything perfectly and the slightest fuck-up is severely punished by sheer dint of "consequences" no matter what the boss might say otherwise.
(BTW, if you think using the term "brainwashing" is a bit strong here, then you obviously have no idea what child abuse is like. See here: https://recovery.com/resources/mind-cont...ex-trauma/)
Naturally, this means that I'd constantly bend over backwards, trying to please everyone, unknowingly seeking validation for my very right to even *exist*, until my anxieties cause me to implode on myself. So it's easy to imagine that even if I'm able to charm someone at first, they eventually leave me because my need to be perfect and validated is just too much to handle.
As you may have guessed, this means there is gonna be some serious deconstruction. After all, this is a self-insert we're dealing with, and it's been long-established that the best way to do these kinds of stories is by deconstructing (and sometimes even reconstructing) the relevant tropes.
But this is gonna go a step further. We're gonna be outright destroying a lot of the comedy tropes. And you're gonna get to vicariously experience what it's like to be as uncertain, insecure, and isolated as I am. And I don't mean that in the way most people typically are. I'm talking about actual Anxiety Disorder and Pretender Syndrome - the seriously unhealthy shit that makes you scream, "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?"
Guess what? You're gonna find out exactly why. And whether or not you've ever seen or heard of some of the things that makes a person like this? It might even hurt to see it. Because this shit is literally psychologically damaging to experience first-hand.
And in a setting like Tenchi Muyo where the most outrageously unlikely things can happen? Where the unexpected can literally be lurking around the corner? Where lives can be fundamentally altered like it's a "Tuesday" kinda thing? You can crank that anxiety to the "11" that someone wrote in sharpie marker just past the spot on the dial that reads "10".
Why? Because even if the end result is something someone might say is "a good thing", that doesn't always mean that the road there is a pleasant one. Especially in deconstructions.
Also, going ahead, I've changed things a bit to having my SI yoinked at about 20 years in the future from the present me. I passively hope that maybe things with my family will get straightened out and I'll finally be able to go to a university and get those engineering degrees I so dearly want to have.
Maybe when pigs fly.
One last thing, just so you know. Most of this will be told in a Third-Person narrative style - this makes it easier to tell the story from multiple perspectives - but there will be introspectives that can only really be told as a First-Person narrative, so expect those sudden shifts accordingly. And I'll try to find spots where I can inject some "Unreliable Narrator" into the narrative. Just to keep you on your toes. I know I may be preaching to the choir here, but you must always remember that it's all about the character's perspective, not yours.
Chapter One will be coming up next in it's own thread momentarily.
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| My Stepfather Is Dead (A Retrospective On My Survival Of Child Abuse) |
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Posted by: Black Aeronaut - 08-13-2026, 02:57 AM - Forum: General Chatter
- Replies (3)
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It''s been a while, hasn't it? But, despite what some might wish for, I'm still around, clinging on for dear life.
And I know for sure they're thinking something along the line of "Here we go again, it's all about him all the time."
Well yeah, of course this is gonna be about me. What the hell do you expect when someone decides to finally break the silence?
And really, as the thread's title implies, I have a good reason for that.
Earlier this year, in the month of January, my stepfather died.
It was not a clean passing. He was riding his motorcycle, trailing behind my mother while she was driving the car when something happened. We don't know what because it was night time out in the hinterlands on I-37, but it was horrible. Shovels were involved, and that should tell you just how bad it was.
I know some of you might feel that I need to be comforted, but no, I don't. This is mainly because I had the opposite sort of connection with him that everyone else did. So instead, it's the rest of my family that are going through the grieving process, and there isn't much I can do about it. All I can do are the more mundane things to make life easier on a person.
Some of you probably think ill of me after what happened a few years ago. The same people who think ill of me probably know a bit about what I went through growing up.
But now that dad is gone, mom has come out with some... very alarming details that will take any pictures I've painted in the past from "bad feels" and outright into the territory of "fridge horror" - that belated realization that you don't quite get at first when you're watching/reading it... that is, up until you go to the fridge for some refreshments and it suddenly hits you.
How bad was it? Buckle-up and hang on tight. Rough doesn't even come close to describing it.
In essence?
I was raised to hate absolutely everything about myself. Even though he would have insisted otherwise, my stepfather had no appreciation for me. He wanted to change me into something I could not be. And because I could not be that thing he wanted me to be? He made me suffer by stripping me of everything.
You see, he didn't necessarily want me as a son. He wanted me as something that he could be "proud of". Something that made him look "good".
He wanted an appliance. An automaton. Something that he could program to function without faults, and carry out his directives. Something that would not trouble him for anything at all, save for basic needs and necessities. Something that appeared human by becoming an utter mockery of what a human is.
And it was pretty much just me he was focused on.
I bet you're thinking, "Oh god, it's a Cinderella story."
Folks? Cinderella ain't got shit on me. (Albeit the Disney version - the original Brother's Grimm version was a helluva lot darker.)
Let me demonstrate just how distorted things were in my family.
Quote:"Fishy needed a bath and a haircut."
No, that is not metaphor or some strange sort of code. This was what literally happened. My younger brothers gave my pet fish, a beta, a "haircut" by trying to cut the fins using scissors, and a "bath" by dumping dishwashing soap into the tank and stirring it up.
And that ridiculous "bath and a hair cut" line was their excuse for ALL THREE TIMES IT HAPPENED.
Yes. This happened not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES.
(I know some people are thinking, "Psychopathic much!?" but it was actually a one-two-uppercut combo of Impulsivity Disorder, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, and ADHD+Autism. But these revelations didn't come until later when these guys were in middle school.)
But what was done about it?
Simple. It was decided that I should not have any pets.
Now, stop and think that over carefully. You might consider it a wise move on my stepfather's part to make that mandate - that it was too dangerous to bring an animal into the household. But that would imply that I was the liability, and not my brothers.
I obviously had no part in what my brothers did, aside from keeping a colorful tropical fish that is easy to care for as a pet. I was not neglectful in any way, shape or form. The aquarium was always in my room - not any of the common areas in the house. Which means each time it happened, they came into my room to do as they pleased.
Yes, this could have been prevented by putting a lock on my door. That would be the sensible thing, right? But my stepfather vetoed that each and every time it came up.
Why?
Because if I had a lock on my door, then I could ostensibly hide things from him.
That's right. He didn't want me to have any way of hiding anything from him. And that overruled any right I had to protect anything of mine from my brothers. And despite me having no fault whatsoever in this, the eventual consequence was that I was no longer allowed to have a pet.
As for the consequences for my brothers? Well, my stepfather did believe it was uncalled for. But in the end? He saw it as boys being boys.
That's right. I got punished for something my younger brothers did. Something they did to hurt me. Getting my pet privileges revoked wasn't their aim because it meant they no longer had that avenue for hurting me open to them.
I literally could not have anything nice because if I had anything nice they would destroy it, kill it, or vandalize it.
And keep in mind, this only applied to "nice things" like Lego sets, toys, and model kits. Essentials like clothing, furniture, and bedding were left alone.
Before you think, "Well, at least you had that much," stop and think that over.
Most convicts serving out their prison sentence has at least a room (albeit a shared one), a bed, and other essentials.
Not that I was a prisoner in the traditional sense, but for how often Stepfather thought I was doing something "wrong" and needed to be punished for it?
Yeah.
So please, disabuse yourself of any notion that any aspect of this had a silver lining. I was being treated like I had no rights at all. I only *barely* got fed what everyone else ate. And believe me, if my mother wasn't there for me? I would have been given pet food because I hadn't earned the right for anything better.
Yes, my stepfather was *that* kind of person. More about him in a minute...
Things only got better because the oldest of my younger brothers had to start going to school. This meant that he couldn't get at my things while I myself was at school. And he was definitely the ringleader with the others only being three, two, and one year old. Not that they *couldn't* do things, but really they were mostly along for the ride.
But even with that, the difference between how I was treated and how they were treated was always a stark contrast.
That same brother of mine, on a whim, once got a hammer and started tapping it on the glass of a computer monitor (back when CRT's were still pretty common). In front of my stepdad. He only snapped at him and took the hammer away.
I once spilled acidophilus milk because my stepfather purposefully did a jumpscare on me while I was pouring it. And then he backhanded me so hard that I slid across the floor to the other end of the kitchen.
While mom and stepfather were out running errands, my younger brothers would get into fights with me, which quickly escalated to the oldest one finding the razor-sharp carving knife that would only come out for holiday dinners and trying to cut me with it. And nothing was ever done to rectify this.
If I had hit any of them, whether it was out of anger or self-defense, my punishment was to have my bare ass whipped with a leather belt.
My brothers would only get yelled at if they were running around the house and screaming.
I would try to make as little noise as possible, only to be punished for it because I was "slinking around". Why? Because if I was doing that, then I simply *had* to be in the middle of committing an offense that was worthy of punishment.
(By the way, his hearing was hyper-sensitive. I kid you not, he used to be able to hear a mouse farting on the opposite side of a room. So I got very, VERY good at being quiet. So much that even to this day I make people jump out of their skin because I'm calibrated for avoiding my stepfather's attention.)
My brothers rarely ever got lectured because they were "too young to understand."
I got angry sermons that would run at least 45 minutes long that pointed out all of my flaws, and how he expected better of me. Oh, and he would DEMAND constant eye contact the entire time. And if he thought I was giving him a dirty look (which was most of the time because by God my neutral expression alone is intense), I'd get backhanded hard enough to see stars.
I couldn't even get away with getting actually sick. He'd only let me miss out on my chores if forcing me to do so otherwise causes more damage. That is, not to my person, but to what I was supposed to be tending to. Like cleaning the kitchen - not much point in that if I'm uncontrollably vomiting, spewing bile and pathogens all over what I'm supposed to be cleaning.
(This has had knock-on effects. Remember this thread? http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/s...?tid=13575 The thing I forgot to mention there was that *I drove myself* to the hospital, over ten miles, and half of it was city-driving because the expressways were shut down for construction work. And I pulled this off only because I was raised brainwashed for this kind of behavior.)
It's insane, right? But that was how high the bar I had to clear even for being sick.
That was my childhood.
And you wanna know the most fantastically fucked-up part about it?
It was practically condoned.
Oh, don't get me wrong. If the true extent of what was going on was known, then I would have been put into the foster care system faster than you can say "Parental Rights".
But it wasn't known. Instead, what I was put through was downplayed, and spun into a narrative of "He's so difficult to deal with - look at how he acts!"
For the record, I have diagnosed ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder (like dyslexia if it was applied to your auditory cortex instead), a sleep disorder known as Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome (imagine having jetlag you can never get rid of), and I am almost assuredly on the Autism Spectrum as well.
So yes, I was difficult to deal with. But we all know that nothing warrants this kind of treatment. He just used my neurodivergent behaviors as an excuse and made it look like I was blowing things out of proportion.
Most people simply accepted what my stepfather said. They never looked hard enough to see what was really happening - how my stepfather was hiding just how messed up my treatment was.
The few that didn't buy it? They were either so horrified that they distanced themselves as far away from us as possible and pretend it never happened, or they had absolutely no idea of what to say or what to do because it was so far beyond the context of what they knew as common sense.
And anytime I spoke out? Even to other people my age? I was just "looking for attention" and acting like a "special snowflake". I didn't have the communication skills to properly convey what was happening to me.
Worst of all, some people even thought it was funny. To them, the story I told was absolutely unbelievable. A work of fiction to be sure. A sitcom, even, because what have most sitcoms done in the days of Gen-Xers and Millennials? Portray a dysfunctional family for comedy.
(I detest sitcoms for this reason. And don't even get me fucking started on The Big Bang Theory - every time I hear "Oh! So you're just like Sheldon!" it makes me wanna punch someone.)
In every aspect of my life, my stepfather made sure to isolate me from anyone who would probably not buy into his story, and mostly by making it clear to me (or rather brainwashing me to think) that I was nothing special. That I didn't warrant anyone's attention. He'd dress that up by telling me that the world doesn't revolve around me, and then take it far beyond simply instilling a sense of modesty and humility.
I was to be absolutely subservient to him.
I was to do everything right the first time, even if I wasn't sure what to do because that much should be obvious to someone as intelligent as me.
I was to perform all tasks with the swiftness, accuracy, and diligence of a machine, and without making enough noise to bother him.
I was to anticipate all of his whims and moods, to both somehow intentionally make my presence known but without upsetting him.
I was to look him in the eyes at all times, even though that kind of eye contact sometimes registers as a challenge to one's authority.
I was to accept all punishments he meted out without pleading, crying, or flinching, no matter how brutal it was.
I was to never complain or cry for any reason.
I was to be everything he expected of me, and also nothing at all.
Do you have any idea what that does to a child? Do you have any idea what that does to someone who grows up that way with no means of recourse, escape, or respite? And all because he made damn sure that you were certain that the alternatives were far, far worse?
Can you imagine someone being 25 years old and cowering like a frightened child because he had accidentally angered his sister's at-the-time-husband to the point of violence?
That is how fucked up this was. That I was stuck in there until I was that old. The *only* reason I got out at all was because of two friends of my sister's saw it happen and got me the hell out of there.
And that was only because they knew *exactly* what it was when they saw it, because they had both lived it, too.
So, now I bet you're wondering about the man himself.
Well, wonder no more.
While he was in the Air Force he once got put on medical leave because a psychiatric evaluation flagged him for signs of psychopathy.
Imagine that.
Except that there was nothing imaginary about it.
You ever watched the anime, A Certain Magical Index? How it turned out that all those children with esper abilities were subtly being trained to be an army of superhumans?
Guess what? That's pretty much what his dad did to him and his brothers!
See, Grandpa J was of the opinion that either the Russians, the Chinese, or even both were gonna invade America at some point in time, and so he lived his life accordingly.
And no, not quite in the Burt Gummer sense - he didn't have a massive collection of guns in a house built like a bunker. Instead, he only had his .30-06 Lee-Enfield rifle... one that was rebuilt specifically so you can't mount a scope to it, thus restricting you to the iron sights alone. Yeah, Grandpa J was incredibly hard-core because he'd take this thing to all kinds of shooting competitions. And more often than not, he'd place in the top three.
(My mother, being an excellent genealogist, has found strong evidence that implies stepfather's patrilineal line are descendants of the infamous outlaw, Jesse James.)
And though he was no Burt Gummer, he certainly did keep a modest stockpile of preserved food, firearms, and ammunition. And not just bullets, but also the materials and tools to *make* freakin' custom-loaded ammunition - we literally have several boxes of fucking 7.62mm armor piercing and steel core bullets for his rifle! And it's legal because they're not complete rounds, but the individual components. We would only get into trouble if we assemble them without first getting a permit from the ATF to do so. Which can be done if we can prove it's for a sporting purpose... like hunting large, dangerous game like brown bears or wild boars.
(Yes, I checked, because holy fuck we had to go through the Border Patrol Checkpoint in Falfurias while we were getting mom moved out of her house in McAllen.)
That said? Grandpa J was subtly molding his boys to become a group of survivalists, each with their own role.
The older brother was taught to be charming and good at social engineering - the metaphorical face who made deals with others.
The younger brother was taught to be the store keeper and technician - the one who fixes things when they break and keep track of their supplies.
And stepfather?
He was taught to be the stone-cold killer. That if there was ever any need for it, then he would have no compunctions at all about finding someone and eliminating them.
Are you freaked out yet? Stay tuned, it gets better worse.
My stepfather and his brothers were raised in what is the absolutely most fucked up perversion of patriarchy you can possibly imagine.
While their father dined on steak and potatoes, they got beans and franks. Road trips were a thing, but they only stopped when the car needed gas - bathroom breaks would only happen then, and food was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made by their mom while their father drove. And if he had to deal with an issue their mother couldn't handle? They all got beaten for it, even if one of them was completely uninvolved. He only voluntarily interacted with his sons to teach them what he considered "Men's Matters" like those aforementioned roles, as well as how to hunt, fish, live in the outdoors, and even how to lay with a woman.
Of course, he didn't want much to do with his father for a while afterward. When my stepfather was 16, he already had his own car and his own money from working with contractors building houses. When he was 18, he joined the Air Force and did not look back.
And I'm pretty sure that the only reason he had relations at all with Grandpa J afterward was because Grandma J and Granny were very different people. They were even kind to my mother, even though they felt she wasn't a good match for stepfather. And Granny was more than happy to share some of her Swedish culture with us. I got to experience things like pickled herring and pepparkakor cookies.
How Grandpa J got a woman like Grandma J to marry him is a mystery to both mom and me, and will probably remain unsolved since both have long-since passed away.
The most ironic thing about this is that my paternal biological grandfather, Grandpa R, would have gotten along with Grandpa J like a house on fire.
Grandpa R, like Grandpa J, felt the it was only a matter of time before the Russians and Chinese came a-knocking. Although his survival strategy differed, it was in a way that would have dovetailed perfectly with Grandpa J's strategy. Where Grandpa J focused on a hunker down strategy, Grandpa R was a professional truck driver. He intended to use his trucker skills to stay mobile and evade enemies, and also run a trade route in the process. Thus, if the two had ever met, Grandpa J's spot in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains would have made a perfect way station for Grandpa R, and the two would probably have worked out all kinds of survival schemes.
So yeah, you can count that in my makeup as well as part of the "nature" side of things.
Now, with all of that said, you might think that I hate and despise my stepfather.
Honestly though? I don't.
The thing is, I learned a long, long time ago that there's just nothing to be gained from stirring up that sort of drama. And you don't have to go looking far to find proof of this - sometimes it's even living right next door.
And honestly, I simply never had the spoons for it, and I seriously don't understand where people find the energy to carry on with that kind of thing.
Besides, he was suffering already from the side-effects of my abuse - that being how he neglected to discipline my younger brothers.
Remember what I said about this sounding like a Cinderella story? Well, here's how the deconstructed real-life version ends.
The two oldest ones wound up going to prison for a few years. Both for incredibly fucked up reasons that I *will not* be getting into.
Two more, the middle child and the youngest, were failures to launch. Both because of equal parts physical and mental health issues.
One signed on for a term of enlistment in the armed forces. (He went Marines while I went Navy. Funny that, huh?) He's been the one who's had the most success, and I primarily chalk that up to him being so much like his dad that all he had to do was follow his example. Fortunately, he's the second-youngest among us, so he got the least of stepfather's bad examples.
And me? So-so. I have tried, I really have, but I'm sure you can understand that with the mental and emotional scarring I had, and only having the chance to be properly treated for it when it's too little, too late? Yeah. My life has just been one big let-down.
There are only two of us who have married and had children. Ironically, the oldest of my brothers was one of them despite being the walking cataclysm he is. Of course, once he was convicted for what he did, his wife divorced him in short order and took their daughter along with her.
The other is my sister. And trust me, that is a can of worms we do *not* want to open right now.
Me? I never even had a snowball's chance in hell because, like I said earlier, I was raised to hate absolutely everything about myself. And not only that, but I was always expected to get things right the first time. I've pretty much been programmed to have a horrible aversion to making mistakes and because of that... Let's just say that I have unwittingly come off as a real-life Marty Stu in the past - in some ways, I was too good to be true. Add in the fact that I was so insecure I could barely hold anything together... Yeah.
The only one that wasn't put off by my damage was probably a high-functioning autistic like me, and one of the very few women I've been intimate with who had an intellect that actually rivaled mine. (Keep in mind, I had a 12th grade reading level when I was in 4th grade, and a collegiate reading level by time I was in 6th grade.) Rather than put her off, she found me to be charming, sexy, and just downright fascinating. Things between her and I might have worked out...
The reason why we didn't get to find out was because I was moving along in my training in the in the Navy and bound for Seventh Fleet, and she didn't want to wind up being estranged from her family.
(Think about the film, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Yes, it was exactly like that, including the fact that her family was 100% Greek and that they were in the restaurant business... except unlike the movie, there was no happy ending for us.)
So that's a major part of the reason why I don't make drama out of what I went through, even though a lot of people could say I'd be perfectly justified in doing so. The birds came home to roost, and the anguish this caused my stepfather was far worse than anything I could have done. Even the fact that I myself have been such a failure hurts because he spent so much time trying to correct me, only to have it turn out that turning me into a high-strung perfectionist with a metric fuckton of insecurities is not conducive to proper socialization.
So, like I said, we buried the hatchet and we worked on it. It wasn't going to undo anything that had been done, but there was nothing to be gained by causing even more pain.
And then?
Then the Accident happened.
Say what you will, but even I feel he didn't deserve to go out like that. I can only imagine the combination of terror and resignation he must have felt - that for all of his skills (especially those he's honed as a motorcycle rider - he was incredibly good at that), this was the thing he was not able to avoid, and it was all over.
While I am nowhere nearly as impacted by his loss as the rest of my family, the fact of the matter was that he and I had been trying.
And now that will never be.
So, I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm spilling my guts like this.
You can rest assured, there is a purpose in mind. But for now? It's important that you understand what I've been through and how screwed up it has made me. Because that has a lot to do with what will come later.
Bob Schroeck, Rob Kelk, Labster?
This will not be the thread for That Discussion. This one I am reserving so that others can ask me questions about the abusive relationship I only barely survived. You may join in if you like, but I imagine you won't have the stomach for it.
Just for a bit of Ha-Ha, I'll leave you with this Skeletor meme that is oh-so-painfully relevant.
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