What you do to have a skin party is gather a bunch of people (about 10+ people) and all wear the same skin, then go to a random popular server and just all do the same thing!
Se que suena extraño, pero he estado buscando una serie de minecraft por un par de años ya, era en español y no recuerdo mucho de ella, probablemente sera de la epoca dorada de las series de minecraft sobre el 2016 mas o menos, la skin del chico era amarilla, puede ser que con la camiseta verde y creo que en un capitulo salia un alienigena creo (no estoy segura) (edit: recuerdo que en un capitulo habia una explosion y que en otro le decian que fuera a un sitio y luego como que le ataban en una silla y le amenazaban), la verdad es que he olvidado mucho y es que no me sale de la cabeza pero de verdad que me encantaria encontrarla ya que llevo años teniendo como flashbacks de esa serie y no la encuentro, recuerdo que estaba medianamente bien hecha (a lo mejor es que como la vi de pequeña pues la recuerdo mejor de lo que es)
--- Table of Contents
--- Spring 4984, 9 Kuromoth, Spring Equinox
“Archmage, I thought you had already gone…” Brom’s voice, beyond Her door. She didn’t move, didn’t bother to look towards the closed portal. Had it been months or years since he'd last come to sit with Her?
“I will be leaving presently…” Archmage Morndancer’s cold voice answered. She squeezed tighter into Her little ball in the dark corner. It didn’t matter that he would be gone. He left the tower often, but it didn’t stop Her punishment. Even as the season turned from winter to spring, She'd stayed locked in Her room. With no books and no company. Occasionally being taken out to give samples in a lab completely separate from that of Her treasures. Only their yowls and barks from down the hall offering any comfort.
“It’s an important day, isn’t it, Archmage? Perhaps Sellon will pass the test.” Ran’s voice. Did he sound nervous? Her head tilted, just a little, towards the door. The half-circle of light from Her window did very little to banish the darkness of the room. She hadn’t bothered to light the candles. What was the point?
Morndancer scoffed, “Doubtful. Ronni didn’t manage it. And just as his sister before him, Sellon will join the Mages Guild whether he passes or not.” Sellon and Ronni, Archmage Morndancer’s children. She'd heard of them from Brom and Ran. So they were Mages as well. Perhaps they would be the ones to come take Her blood and cut Her hair in future. It didn’t matter. Nothing had ever mattered.
“But a Wizard-Cleric of Saint Bede might…”
“Enough.” Morndancer interrupted Brom, “Bede is no god, he wasn't even a decent Mage, he was and is a villain. We would not have this responsibility to save the world if he and his lot hadn’t doomed it.”
“Of course, Archmage, yes.” nervous feet shuffled outside Her door.
“Even now, Shaloon is trying to locate the next storm.” Morndancer continued his chastisement, “They come more frequently and destroy greater swaths of land. If we continue to be as useless as the other Talons, there will be no world left to save. So rather than waste your time on prayers to usurper gods, you had best refocus and redouble your efforts while we are away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Archmage,” Brom and Ran said in unison.
“Good. And be sure to return those to the library when you have finished with them.” the hiss of fabric on stone accompanied the Archmage's exit.
Her door handle jingled, and Her head came up a fraction, but, “Wait…” Brom’s whisper. Silence followed, and She dropped Her head again, pressing her closed eyes into Her knees. Minutes passed, or was it hours? Did it matter? Maybe She would crawl into Her bed and try to sleep. Time passed faster that way. Or maybe She would just stay here in Her little ball in the corner.
“He should be gone by now…” Her lock clicked, and the door creaked open, but She didn’t bother to look up, “Goldy? Maybe She’s sleeping…” Brom whispered.
“Damn, it’s dark in here. Red, can we get a light?” She didn’t answer Ran’s request. What was the point? They would find Her and they would take Her for samples. She didn’t have to help them do it. “Grab the candle from the table, Brom. My hands are full.”
She could feel the life of a tiny flame beyond Her door. Felt it draw closer and enter Her room before it flickered and died. “Oh, Goldy… please don’t…” the shuffling of feet moving carefully in the darkness came closer. She tried to pull in tighter, tucking Her head against Her chest and letting Her now shoulder-length hair fall forward to further hide Her face.
They crouched at either side of Her, Brom setting the useless candle down to Her left with a soft ‘tink’ of brass on stone. Something much heavier was placed on Her right, the familiar scents of hardbound leather, paper, and ink… “We brought you some books, Red…”
She lifted Her head, looking through the tangled strands of golden hair and seeing a pair of worried faces looming in the dark. “If you light up the room a bit, we can read,” Brom slowly pushed Her hair back, careful not to touch Her skin. As though She would burn him. She might have. If She could find the energy.
“You’re not supposed to...” Her voice crackled from lack of use, making Her whisper even more inaudible.
“What?” Ran leaned closer, but She didn’t repeat Herself, “It’s been months, Red. You’re not in trouble anymore.”
She blinked silently at him.
“Look, Goldy,” Brom shuffled forward, still in his crouch, “things can go back to normal now. The Archmage will be out for a few days. We can take you to play with the animals tomorrow.” She shifted Her blank stare to him. Brom waited for a moment, searching Her face for a familiar flicker of excitement. She didn’t give it to him. He sighed, “We’ll leave these with you then. You can read them when you’re ready.”
Brom made to stand, but She grabbed the hem of his sleeve, “Stay with me…” On the candle, the smallest of lights began to flicker to life. Brom sat down with a groan, and on Her other side, Ran plopped down even less gracefully.
He leaned his back against Her bed and picked the top book off the small pile they'd brought Her, “We can stay until lunch, Goldy.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do…”
It was enough. The candle burned brighter, and She shifted Her legs down, taking the book Ran passed to Her. Things would finally be returning to normal. As they always had been, and as they always would be.
Shon woke long before the kitchen servant would come to fetch him. Everything was the same, and yet nothing would ever be as it was before. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to realize that everything wasn't
the same. The other two boys who'd reached maturity were also awake. It looked like Gaven hadn’t slept at all, his sandy hair tousled and his dark eyes bloodshot.
“This is it then… the last morning in the dorms?” Gaven whispered the useless question. Nan, the oldest by a month, nodded in silence. Shon didn’t bother with even that much, swinging his legs off the bed and kicking something. Another difference. A final gift from the Church. A leather pack for him to carry everything he owned.
Shon dressed in silence only broken by the shuffle of the other two joining him. After tying his boots, he started packing the bag. It was large enough to fit all of his clothes and even his seven journals, though the eighth made it a very tight fit.
“Should we make the beds?” Nan whispered. Again, Shon didn’t answer. Instead, he stripped the blanket and sheets from the mattress, folding them neatly and placing them with the pillow at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah… they'll have to strip them to wash anyway…” Gaven said, following Shon’s example.
They'd just finished when the door creaked open. Normally woken by the morning bells, Gaven and Nan both jumped, looking from the dark window to the door then at each other.
The servant girl who usually woke Shon looked in on them with some confusion, then hummed in understanding before holding the door open for them, “Come on then. There may be some leftover dessert you can have while we make breakfast…”
Shon doubted he could eat anything at the moment. His stomach worked itself in knots that put an uncomfortable pressure on his heart that in turn seemed as though it wanted to beat its way into his throat. The entire sensation made him feel a strange sort of nauseous. Nan and Gaven looked no better than he felt, and they both swallowed before exiting the room. Gaven took a moment to look back over his shoulder before shaking himself and setting his eyes forward. Nan seemed to rush from the room, too afraid to look back. Shon took one last look around before following, the door clicking closed behind them.
He let the other boys walk ahead of him and wondered what they were thinking. Gaven would be taking the test with him today, but Nan had been selected to join the Masons Guild and had opted to accept the offer right away rather than try for one of the divine orders first. Perhaps Nan was the smartest of them.
“We'll miss you…” the servant girl whispered so only Shon could hear, “It isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work... if you want to join the Servants Guild…” the Servants Guild was a loose association of otherwise privately employed cleaners and cooks. It was the last choice for orphans, but also their most common destination. She'd meant the offer as a kindness, so Shon nodded in thanks, though nothing but the most desperate situation would ever see him join.
The head cook looked up as they entered the kitchen, nodding in understanding, “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Nan and Gaven, who mumbled incoherently in response. To Shon, the cook smiled, offering only a silent nod.
The girl who'd reached maturity with them was already in the dining room, staring mournfully at a plate of hastily scrambled eggs and a few cookies from the night before.
“Hey Lara, couldn’t sleep anymore either?” Gaven asked with a strained smile. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and tried to force down some of the breakfast. She'd been accepted into the Tailors Guild, but unlike Nan, had chosen to take the test with Shon and Gavin. Just in case.
The cook himself brought the boys their plates of eggs and cookies, and they ate in silence until the morning bells sounded. The three unused to being up early jumped at the sound, exchanging nervous looks. Their juniors and the priests would come flooding in soon, laughing and talking and enjoying another breakfast with friends and the closest thing they had to family. It would be the last time the four of them ate with the others in this room.
Shon didn’t know if he could take the bustle today, even if it was the last. Or maybe because it was. He stood, taking his mostly full plate and returning it to the kitchen. The cook looked from the untouched food to Shon and back again, then picked up a pair of cookies and held them out to him, “You might not be able to eat now, but you can save these for after.”
Shon took the gift, meeting the cook's eyes and nodding in silent thanks. The cook returned the nod and Shon left the kitchen without looking back. He slipped the cookies into one of the side pockets of his new pack as he made his way to the courtyard. He passed the bathroom, its wall lined with low-hanging sinks and a single long mirror. He'd practiced arching his eyebrows in that mirror...
Entering the courtyard, Shon hesitated, remembering his first early morning. When he couldn’t sleep for excitement at the mere possibility
of training with a real adventurer. He'd wanted to learn to fight, but more than that, he'd wanted to learn how to train. After all, he would be doing a lot of that once he joined the Temple. It would be helpful to have a head start… Or, that's what he'd told himself back then.
Shon shut the door with a click of finality that rang in the still morning air. To his left were the classrooms where the city's children took lessons. Just thinking about his last lesson, with only those coming of age, still made him blush. To his right was the door to the chapel, where he'd sat with the other orphans through the weekly sermons. Shon respected the god of life and healing, but Soleil had never been his patron. Across from him was the clinic, where the Clerics of Soleil saw to the needs of the sick and injured. He'd only been sent there once, after breaking his arm trying to climb the tree in the courtyard.
Shon would have no need to pray to Soleil specifically, and the Temple kept their own clinic... if he passed. If he didn't... There was a chance he would see the clinic again, perhaps the chapel...
Shon stepped off the walkway surrounding the central tree, and a familiar voice sounded from its roots, “Feeling up to a few exercises?” Master Veon-Zih asked, rising from his cross-legged seat in one fluid motion. Shon stopped in their little clearing and nodded, letting his pack slide off his shoulder and flop heavily to the ground. “I take it there's nothing fragile in there then?” Veon-Zih asked with a chuckle.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old would have something valuable or fragile enough to break just by dropping the bag finally pulled Shon all the way out of his contemplations. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his master.
“There, that’s more like it. You looked like a rather well-preserved zombie.” Veon-Zih took Shon by the shoulder, shaking him, “Not a thought in your head, or skip in your step.”
Shon shook his head, sinking into his horse stance to start his drills. He punched with his left fist first, and Veon-Zih took position just out of reach, so Shon’s knuckles barely brushed the fabric of his tunic. Shon held the position until Veon-Zih also threw his first punch. He aimed for Shon’s face, sending a wave of air and ki over his skin and nearly touching his nose. Shon didn’t flinch.
They worked through their punches in unison, nearly touching but never quite connecting. Shon worked in silence for a while then said, “Too many
“And none of them new, I’m sure,” Veon-Zih commented.
Shon nodded, “The same ones circle again and again. Even though I can’t do anything about them... yet.”
“Not until after the test.”
Shon had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat and nodded again, unable to speak even if he'd wanted to.
Veon-Zih moved on to the next strike, and Shon copied him. He'd lost count of the punches but followed his Master's lead. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Master Veon-Zih asked.
Shon shook his head but then sighed. Most people seemed to like thinking out loud, especially when troubled. He didn’t understand why, but his usual quiet contemplation wasn’t working, so maybe… “If I don’t pass…”
“I would think of all days, today would be the one to take a break!” Father Branston called from the chapel door. He began strolling towards them with a broad smile, “Do you think you’ll be done in time to join me?”
Was it time already? Shon glanced around, noticing Nan, Gaven, and Lara approaching from the living quarter, all looking pale, their lips drawn in tight unsmiling lines.
Veon-Zih hadn’t come up from his stance, so neither did Shon, but the Monk did laugh, “Keeping a routine can be soothing in times of great change.” he winked at Shon, “Even if it’s a positive change.”
Shon tried to smile at Veon-Zih’s apparent show of faith but wasn’t sure if he'd managed it. What if…?
“Well, I don’t want to rush you. Can I trust you to get Shon to the Chapel on time if I take the others now?” Father Branston laughed as though he'd said something particularly humourous, his great belly bouncing with mirth.
“We'll be there.” Master Veon-Zih assured Father Branston, and Shon nodded mutely, resuming his drills and trying not to watch the others leave. “We have plenty of time,” Veon-Zih whispered, “Take a few deep breaths. It's the end of your childhood, not your life.”
They moved from drills to kata. Master Veon-Zih stayed in front of Shon, moving with him and matching his routine strikes with the appropriate counters. “You were saying?” it had been awhile since Shon had tried to speak, though his head continued to spin with the half-formed thoughts.
“I don’t want to think about not passing,” Shon said, kicking high and hitting Veon-Zih’s waiting arm.
“Do you believe such thoughts will jinx you?”
Shon dropped his kick and punched as the kata dictated. Veon-Zih was right; working through their regular routines did seem to help calm his pounding heart. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s stupid, though. Whether I pass or not was decided when I was born. It won’t change just because I think about it.”
“Emotions are rarely logical.” Veon-Zih smacked Shon’s punch aside at the last moment, and Shon moved smoothly from that strike to the next, “It’s normal to be nervous. One of your peers is just as nervous, and he already knows where he’s going.”
“They all do…” Shon mumbled, snap kicking straight in front of him, confident in his Master’s speed to dodge and counter.
Veon-Zih did indeed dodge, but instead of the usual counter he hooked Shon’s foot with his own and tried to pull him off balance. Shon only stumbled for a moment, shifting his form to a different kata and counter, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Veon-Zih spoke as they continued the different form without finishing the first, prompting, “Even those taking the test have other plans, just in case?”
“Lara was accepted by the Tailors, and Gaven is going to enlist in the guard…” They had sped up the pace, and Shon needed to concentrate, now on edge in case Master Veon-Zih decided to shift the practice again. A few more strikes in, the Monk dropped below Shon’s punch and swung at his ribs, forcing Shon to block. Shon switched the kata to his most recent on instinct, using the block to redirect the punch rather than stop it as the original kata would have dictated.
Veon-Zih smiled, his eyes twinkling at the move as he picked up the pace even further, “Both of those are honest jobs and noble callings.” Shon could only grunt in response, now moving too fast for him to think of anything but the exercise. Veon-Zih continued, “The enlisted make up the bulk of Hengist’s armies, and their loyalty is admirable. The Tailors Guild not only clothes the populace but often creates beautiful works of art that serve to enhance the natural beauty of the human form.”
The Master hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Shon had to gasp out, “But I don’t-” before he was interrupted by another unexpected punch. He countered but then disengaged, breathing deep and slow, “What will I
do? If I don’t pass? I thought about joining the enlisted too but…” but the idea of being so close, and yet so impossibly far from his failed dream, pained him in a way he couldn’t put into words.
When Shon didn’t continue, Veon-Zih asked, “Will you reconsider joining me then?”
Shon blinked at the Monk, his eyes going wide. He'd thought he'd lost his chance with the Monastery when he'd denied Veon-Zih for the Temple three years ago, “You mean you'll still take me?” he stammered out.
Veon-Zih closed the distance between them and placed a firm hand on Shon’s shoulder, “So long as you are an obedient and willing student, remember?”
Shon’s eyes burned and another lump rose in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He nodded, and Veon-Zih smiled, turning away from him so Shon could rub his eyes without the Monk seeing. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of failing, but he felt a little more at ease, knowing he wouldn’t be alone even if he did.
“Shall we go then?” Veon-Zih scooped up Shon’s pack and held it out to him, “Destiny awaits no man.”
The Grand Chapel was dedicated to all the gods of the kingdom, and though today it was closed to the public, the doors were still crowded with families from every walk of life. Merchants and craftsmen mingled excitedly with one another while their children nervously awaited the start of the test that would determine the trajectory of the rest of their lives. A smaller group of only two families stood apart from the throng. Dressed in fine clothes and protected by private guards, the nobles surveyed the commoners with a detached air as though above the gods themselves. The boy Shon often saw at the Temple was among them.
Shon stopped just outside the crowd, arching his neck to try and see the doors. His quiet dread had turned to jitters of nervousness as he and Master Veon-Zih walked through the city. He wasn’t sure if he'd wanted to run or stop moving altogether. Now that they were here, he tried to distract himself by studying the faces and movements of those gathered. Though if he tried to draw them now, the shaking of his hands would probably make the pictures impossible to decipher.
The differences between the nobles and commoners, in particular, caught his eye. One of the nobles, a man of middling years, wore long robes with a high collar buttoned tight to his neck and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Shon had just finished scanning up the man’s robes when their eyes met. A shiver, entirely unrelated to the general anxiety of the test, ran down his spine.
The noble’s eyes went wide, and he started for Shon, the edge of the crowd giving way for him like the sea before a ship. “You…” his voice was breathy, and he reached out. Shon stepped back and ran into Master Veon-Zih, “They are back, truly?” the strange man asked, his eyes fixed on Shon who could only stare in bewilderment.
“My good lord Morndancer!” Father Branston’s joy-filled greeting sounded from the side, “So your youngest has come of age has he?” the Abbot seemed to snap the noble from his focus, and he turned away from Shon as Branston made his way through the crowd, Lara and Gaven close behind.
“Yes, Abbot.” Morndancer surveyed the Cleric with what Shon could only describe as contempt, though the look hardly wiped the wide smile from Branston’s face, “Will we be starting soon? Sellon and I have business with the Mages Guild.”
“Though if young Sellon should find himself capable…” Branston started, but the noble snorted. “Ah well, to each their own.” Branston finished, turning away from Morndancer to address his young charges.
From a pouch on his belt, Father Branston pulled forth three small books that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the little bag, “I present to you, your papers.” He fanned the books out before him, and each of them took the one closest to them. They were bound in leather with the seal of the Kingdom of Daanlin embossed on the cover. The knight on the kingdom seal rode a horse and held a shield with the seal of Clearhelm on it, three tall pine trees in front of a snow-capped mountain.
Their papers were proof of their citizenship and would serve as a record of their lives and accomplishments. Master Veon-Zih had shown Shon his own papers months before. It held a record of every border he had ever crossed and every teleport he had ever taken, as well as proof of all of his adventures and every job performed for any of the kingdom’s organizations. Veon-Zih’s papers were a veritable tome compared to Shon’s meager notebook. Opening it to the first page, Shon saw his name followed by his presumed place and date of birth. It detailed that he had been raised in the Church in Smildna and when he had come of age. At the bottom was a place labeled but left blank for the date and results of today’s test…
Branston was still speaking to them, but Shon only partly registered the words, “You should keep your papers on you whenever possible. You will need them to reenter the city any time you leave…”
Veon-Zih placed a hand on Shon’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise. Leaning down, the Monk whispered in his ear, “Soon this book will be full of your adventures and accomplishments. Regardless of what happens today.”
“Abbot,” Morndancer interjected as Father Branston finished his explanation, “the test? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, my dear Lord Morndancer. The sun will rise no faster with you tapping your foot at its pace.” he lowered his voice and continued to address the anxious children, “I am so very proud of all of you. Know that no matter what is discovered today, the light of Soleil will always shine with joy at what you have and will accomplish in your lives.” Shon wondered if any of the adults realized that their constant efforts to comfort their nerves seemed to be having the opposite effect. Shon’s palms were sweating as he closed his papers, and he had to wipe them on his pants to try and distract himself from his pounding heart.
“Follow me,” Branston turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd that had suddenly grown hush at his movement towards the door. Veon-Zih gave Shon one last pat, then slipped Shon’s pack from his back and tossed it over his own shoulder. Letting his student know without words that he would be waiting for Shon to return, one way or another.
Shon could feel the eyes of the noble Morndancer boring into him as he followed Father Branston through the throng towards the Grand Chapel. What was that man's problem? Who was back?
Shon was too distracted by the test to dwell on it, but the man had made his skin crawl, and having him at his back wasn’t helping his nerves.
Father Branston turned to address the crowd as the doors began to swing open, “The testers will enter alone and present their papers to the clerks by the door. Families and friends may wait outside until the test is complete.” Nervous adolescents made their way forward, careful not to jostle one another, many accepting last-minute hugs and well wishes from their families.
Shon thought he remembered the Grand Chapel well from his visit almost six years ago, but was struck again by the beauty of its art. The masterwork statues and carvings were outshone only by the stained glass dome that painted the round floor in bright light of every color he could imagine.
Of the ten gods, eight representatives stood opposite the doors, waiting quietly while the testers handed their papers to the clerks and shuffled nervously in the middle of the majestic holy site. Neither the Temples of Horsa nor Saint Giorgos were present. Their absence wasn’t surprising. The Temple of Saint Giorgos only took those of noble birth and would give their tests separately, and the Temple of Horsa was openly shunned in Clearhelm, its only branch located in the capital city of Tarorn.
Shon handed one of three clerks his papers. She took them with only a glance, hastily scribbling Shon’s name on a long list before handing the book to one of the others who wrote the date in the spot allocated. By the time all the testers had filtered in, there were about twenty young boys and girls huddled in the center of the room.
The Cleric of Hengist, in robes of white and blue, stepped forward to address them. “You are gathered here today in the hopes of being chosen to serve. To serve the province, the kingdom, and most importantly, the gods. But before the gods can choose you to act as their divine hands and voice, you must train and study hard their tenants and virtues. And before even that, your body must be able to hold and direct their power. For a feather that cannot hold ink will never be a quill. This is not a test of your worth but of your natural, innate ability.”
As he spoke, two other Clerics, Father Branston of Soleil and a female in the colors of Lune, stepped forward, each holding something round covered with a dark cloth. The Cleric of Hengist continued, “Very few are born with the capacity to touch the divine, there is no shame in failing.” the Clerics of Soleil and Lune removed the protective coverings and everyone had to shield their eyes from the brilliant light that flared in Father Branston’s hand.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Shon could just make out an orb glowing in a bowl in the Abbot’s hands. The Cleric of Lune held a similar sphere, though it appeared dead beside the brilliance of the other. “When we call your name, you will touch the empty vessel,” the Cleric of Hengist gestured towards the unlit stone, “and then you will touch the vessel filled with divine magic,” with his other hand, he gestured towards the light. “Do not hold the stone for longer than a moment. If your body is unable to channel the magic it could do serious harm,” he warned.
“Trase,” one of the clerks called from the door, reading off the list they'd compiled. A tall boy stepped forward on shaking feet. He approached the Clerics, who nodded solemnly, all encouraging smiles gone. Reaching out, he touched the unlit orb, then with a deep breath, reached for the glowing vessel.
Nothing happened. Trase pulled his hands back, and Branston whispered -though all could hear in the stillness of the room- “It’s alright lad, you may go…”
“Anhala,” the clerk called, and a girl jumped before rushing forward to try.
The first six failed before a girl named Gena reached shaking hands to the orbs. As her fingers brushed the light vessel, the dead sphere in her other hand began to glow. She gasped, holding tight to both globes, now both shining brightly.
“Congratulations, my dear, you may choose an order…” the Cleric of Hengist gestured to the altars around the Chapel. Gena pulled her hands back slowly, and the unlit stone died once again. Shon watched as she walked to the altar of Soleil to await the end of the test before beginning her life as an adept in training at the Church.
“Shaclin Ebonheart,” the noble boy Shon often saw at the Temple stepped forward, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching for the orbs. Nothing. He held on, and Father Branston gently removed the boy’s fingers from the light orb. Shaclin pulled away sharply, clutching his hand to his chest and whimpering. His skin had grown red and blistered.
“I’m sorry…” the Cleric of Hengist whispered.
Shaclin turned away without a word and strode for the door, still clutching his burned hand, silent tears staining his cheeks. I won’t cry… I won’t…
“Shon,” Shon closed his eyes, imagining himself in the Temple chapel with its calm silence and soothing scent of incense. He could almost smell it when he opened his eyes and moved forward.
Time slowed down… it took hours to reach the Clerics. Days to raise his hand to touch the dark orb. Now that he was closer he saw that they were actually crystals, tumbled into perfectly smooth spheres. His palm covered the dead stone, and it felt cool, as though it had just been dug from the ground by adventurous children. He reached for the stone bathed in light, feeling the warmth radiate off it before he even made contact. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to burn, and yet Shaclin’s hand had shown blisters.
Shon touched the stone. The warmth filled his fingers and crawled up his arm. It flooded his body like a vessel being filled with water before flowing out his other arm and down his hand. The dead stone came to life, its coolness replaced by the warmth of the divine magic, using him as its conduit connecting the two.
“Congratulations, son, you may choose an order…”
Time sped back up, and Shon let his hands slide off the stones. “Congratulations,” Father Branston echoed, nodding towards the altar of Hengist, “The rest is up to you.”
Only two others passed the test. A girl with long auburn hair and green eyes had joined the Temple with Shon, and a boy had gone to the Church of Saint Bjarki. They stood by their respective altars as the last of the failed testers left the Chapel. Gaven and Lara managed strained smiles at Shon as they left. He attempted to return them but wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The eight Clerics all breathed sighs of relief as the last left, and Branston and the Cleric of Lune returned the covers over the stones. Though still lit by the light through the colored dome, the Chapel seemed so much darker without the divine light to fill it.
“Four this year! An entire fifth!” the Druid of Cathbad exclaimed, her brown and green robes rustling as she danced in place.
“Yes, quite remarkable. Twice the average.” the Cleric of Saint Bede agreed. Though he resisted dancing for joy.
The Cleric of Hengist was also smiling broadly, though when he spoke, it was to the kids, “You may spend the afternoon with your families. Report to your chosen order before sixth bell.”
The girl who also joined the Temple of Hengist, Daisy, gave Shon a warm smile and hurried with the others to retrieve her papers. Now marked with their status as divine conduits. Shon walked behind them, his nervousness replaced with excited anticipation. He felt somehow full and empty all at once. With one door open, another had closed...
Shon stepped into the morning light to find the crowd had cleared. Only the three families of his fellows remained, hugging and kissing their children in joy. “We shall have a feast fit for the King!” Daisy’s father exclaimed, lifting her into the air as if she were no more than five. Shon’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Veon-Zih asked, stepping out from beside the door and presenting Shon with his pack. Shon felt his cheeks go red, and Veon-Zih laughed, rubbing his own belly, “I could use some lunch myself.”
Hastily Shon dropped his pack and rifled through the outside pockets, finding the cookies in the last one left to check. They were cracked and crumbled in some places, but he held one out to Veon-Zih regardless.
The Monk took it with a bow, “I am trying to resist being disappointed.” he confessed as Shon eagerly shoved his own broken cookie in his mouth.
He nearly choked, and Veon-Zih patted his back hard, not helping. Shon managed to swallow, then stammered, “Master, I…”
Veon-Zih interrupted with a laugh loud enough to fill the empty entryway, “Just promise me you won’t let your new studies dull your old. I plan on testing you with each visit.”
"Visit?" Something Shon couldn’t name filled his chest with warmth reminiscent of the divine light, "Test? You..." He thought he might burst with barely contained hope. No one could be so blessed... "You'll still train me?" Shon asked.
“I happen to be good friends with one of your future teachers at Hamerfoss.” Veon-Zih stated for the first time, “I’m sure he'll welcome my visits. If you'll have me…”
Shon didn’t have words for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward, wrapping Veon-Zih in the first and only hug he could remember giving anyone.
--- Table of Contents
All comments and communication are welcome and wanted.
Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13lfqkw/vulturebeard_the_legbeard_that_ruined_roomies_fo
Hi everyone, bunny here. I’m having Ezekial post this for me because while I lurk on reddit, I’m on too many online communities and burn out quickly on all of them. I’m just here to tell this incredibly long tale. Pull up a chair, grab a snack, get comfy. This is a long ride. The Cast List Bunny
(author): 33, female, a year or so out of a divorce that turned toxic and abusive and ultimately helped me realize I was gay. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately very familiar with surviving trauma. Z
(poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma. One Liner Beard (OLB)
: 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. He also suspects autism but isn’t pursuing a diagnosis. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute. VultureBeard (Vulture)
: 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real – that will all be explained. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name will be explained in this part. Kid
: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet. Minor mentions
: Shit ass ex-husband (SA)
: name is self-explanatory. 32, male. Divorce was amicable to keep the peace. I immediately went no contact with him after. J2
: Friend of OLBs.
You ready? Deep breath. Now let’s dive into this mess.
Chapter Two: VultureBeard, or the Walking Diagnosis
With the backstory of how we wound up with a neckbeard, a legbeard, and their kid out of the way, I’ll start on VultureBeard properly now.
J2 was the one who introduced her to OLB. He ran into her at a local convention, and they talked and spent the day together. He ended up sleeping over at her house, on her couch, since she lived a few minutes away from the convention center, and he introduced her to his D&D group that OLB was a DM for. He said that at first, he wanted to smash just based on looks (before she stopped caring for herself, before the pregnancy), until she opened her mouth. Oh boy.
I met her on Halloween 2018 or 2019 (trauma made my memory absolute garbage, ain’t it fun?), when OLB wanted to run a one-shot Curse of Strahd campaign for our D&D group. J2’s group was called Party A, we were Party B. Both of our campaigns existed in the same universe that OLB created. It was a fun one shot. I liked her. We integrated her into our D&D campaign as a side character who joined our party.
With her autism, she talks a lot, and can have a conversation with anyone, but she does naturally miss a lot of social cues. She says it’s okay to be direct with her and say things like, “I can’t talk right now, I’m busy.” But in the wild, she just enjoys people. That in itself isn’t a bad thing.
When we met, she was a Mormon with long brown hair, glasses, and modest clothes with long ankle-length jean skirts. I don’t know if that was a lifelong practice or just the people she had associated with. She didn’t curse at all, and still substitutes “fudge” for my favorite and most often-used curse word. Over time, she dropped religion, but she only curses in text, and very rarely at that, like when she’s pushed to her mental limit. She still dresses in a lot of the modest clothes from before, but it’s mostly because she doesn’t go clothes shopping a lot. I have passed down some clothes I have shrunk out of to her.
Her fashion sense is a bit of Walmart-meets-Goodwill. The tired mom “this is clean, so I’ll wear it” kind of aesthetic. She’s big on thrifting, but so am I. Most of my wardrobe is thrifted or passed on from a few gym friends these days, so it’s not like I’m poking fun at secondhand clothes. It’s just that there’s a lack of style or effort on her part, like she just puts clothes on and sometimes remembers to brush her hair out. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t recognize she’s plus sized after pregnancy because she once bought clothes that are size medium, and they didn’t fit. She fit my old 2X leggings. I traded her leggings once, my bigger size for her smaller size.
She and OLB don’t fold laundry or put it away, so she will have laundry stuffed in their hamper that they keep in our shoe closet next to the laundry room, or boxes on her desk, or on her desk chair. They kind of live out of that clothes pile. If she needs to dress in something nice, it likely is wrinkly because it was in an unfolded pile.
The first run-in with realizing that something was a little “off” with her was when she tried cooking for us. We had other friends over to play D&D and Magic with us, and she wanted to cook some kind of chicken and noodle dish. With her POTs (post orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), she’s usually sodium deficient so she adds way too much salt to whatever she’s eating. Not being used to cooking for others, she served us completely inedible chicken that was too salty.
One of my former friends was there for that debacle. What she also noticed was that Kid seemed to be behind some childhood markers. At 2, Kid was still using a bottle and didn’t seem to talk much. She was worried that Kid would keep falling behind. It was a red flag that got tucked away. At the time, I was still thinking of Vulture as a burned-out first-time neuro spicy mom. That’s a lot for a disabled woman to handle. As a disabled person myself, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I gave her too much benefit of the doubt for way too long.
Vulture as a person focuses very much on herself. Because of the body aches and pains that come with both Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and POTs, yes, I understand that her body regularly fights itself. But why is it that every time her body expressed pain, she had to do a loud, “AH, OW
” or other pain noises as loud as she could? Or she will complain about whatever is giving her trouble. Some days she will be using her computer quietly, then when I come out of my bedroom, she starts to complain about her daily aches and pains. This happens pretty much every day, for different reasons. Her sneezes are likewise as loud, to where I can hear her across the house, through a closed door and over the show Z and I are watching.
Most awkward is Vulture’s bathroom habits. In Apartment #2, I guess Vulture got used to using the bathroom with the door cracked because they lived in a house without roommates, and she needed to keep an ear on Kid. Even now in a shared space, she keeps the door cracked, sometimes with the light off so I don’t think anyone is in the bathroom because it’s more migraine friendly.
Until I hear the grunting. THE GRUNTING. THE POOP GRUNTING.
I have heard it through my closed bedroom door, because her bathroom is right next to my bedroom. Usually, it’s when my bedroom is quieter, like when Z and I are off to sleep. But I hear her grunting as she’s using the bathroom, either because the door is open, or she is just that loud. I’m terrified to know which one it is.
Her hygiene is questionable at best. I know personally that Depression™ makes hygiene and self-care extremely difficult. I myself do the best I can, especially while being constantly sweaty at the gym and a Big Sad (depression) fighter. So, I get mental illness and hygiene. With Vulture and her long hair, she would leave it in a bun for days until it matted. She asked for my help with detangling it and it took me around two hours to safely work the mats and tangles out. When she cut it in a homemade attempt to do the popular wolf cut on Tik Tok, it was much more manageable. When it’s shorter, it has tight curls. She constantly has a natural body odor smell to her. I think with her sensitive skin, she has to wear a specific unscented deodorant, but I don’t think she applies it unless she’s leaving the house. The sink in her and OLB’s bathroom is used as mostly a storage space with things piled on top of it, so I don’t think it’s used for much. The bathtub needs a deep scrubbing, and she gives Kid a bath more than she herself showers.
Having heard the poop grunting, I’m afraid to look at their toilet.
In general, Vulture isn’t active, but to say that she’s sedentary is a vast understatement. The average sedentary person looks like an Olympic athlete next to her. She occupies two spots in the house: Her bed, or the couch in the living room. For most of the day. She will just have her laptop either on the table next to her or in her lap, and that’s where she spends most of the day, gaming.
With me being a gym rat, I am incredibly proud of how I went from a couch potato to a weightlifter. When I think about what would happen if I suddenly dropped to her levels of activity, I know my body would fall apart. I often wonder if her lying in bed or on the couch contributes to more of her body pains because her muscles are deteriorating from disuse. I mean what do I know, I’m not a doctor. That body pain cycles to her being even more inactive because she hurts. It’s a big cycle of negativity.
When the weather changes drastically, she will be hit with migraines or allergy attacks, to where she has to lay down all day as well. She takes OTC pain medicine frequently, as well as allergy meds. One of her desk cabinets is a well-stocked mini pharmacy of OTC medication and some prescription medication she has collected over time that expired over a year ago. When I’m hit with a rare migraine, I know she will have something in stock for it.
Her doctor says she needs to eat more frequently because she’s always shaky. She will hold up her hand to show me how much it’s shaking, and it always looks as though she’s making it shake from the wrist, instead of it being an actual hand movement. She always tells me, “Look at this,” and holds up her shaking hand, like she’s trying to show me how bad she’s doing, but it’s for different reasons every time. She didn’t eat, she’s too tired, she has a migraine, she has sinus pain – everything gives her shaky hands, which I joked about once.
If she has a new symptom, she goes to Doctor Google to look up what’s wrong with her, and then talk in our house chat on discord that she thinks she might have “so and so” wrong with her because the symptoms match. Or she will post screenshots of whatever her symptoms are. As far as I know in the time living with her, she’s never had close medical calls or anything that needed further treatment, except for a heart study where she wore a device to monitor her heart rate. Doctor Google gave her all sorts of things she could have, though.
Within the time I started writing this saga, I had this encounter with her in the house group chat on discord that she, OLB, and I are in, about how she thinks she’s allergic to mosquito bites because the bites swelled up and got inflamed: Vulture
: Just figured out something I’m most likely allergic to: mosquito’s saliva reaction is increased inflammation around the bite site and the condition is skeeter syndrome. Me
: You should get that confirmed by a doctor. It’s mosquito season. (it sounds like she copy/pasted that bit about mosquito’s saliva from Google)
Mind you, my former in-laws thought I was allergic to mosquito bites because the same thing happened to me. My mosquito bites swelled up beyond what they should look like, and mosquitos have a good nose at finding me in particular compared to other people. I tried to empathize with her, even though it just seemed like she wanted to identify with a syndrome she found on the internet.
She said that she had the same symptoms her friend’s dad had for GERD because her acid reflux was acting up. The GERD saga is a fun one as well, which I’ll fully share later.
Funny enough, if I also have something similar to what her current issue is, she doesn’t play Oppression Olympics and say hers is worse. I’ve been dealing with vertigo on and off for the past month and I don’t have the ability to see a doctor for it at the moment. So, when she says that she’s dizzy or the room is spinning, I express empathy or at least a little “oh, same here,” because I have to carefully move my body in ways that don’t make the room spin. It might be her autism, it might be because she doesn’t care, but she never expresses empathy my way. She just moves on.
I’ve told her multiple times she needs to see a doctor to check for each new symptom she has, but somehow there’s an excuse. The latest I’ve heard is, “I will once my phone is turned back on. It hasn’t been paid in a while.” Valid yes, but then please get off Google. Because she’s on government assistance and doesn’t have a car and doesn’t know how to drive, she’s ferried to her appointments by a medical bus that stops at the house. They do need to be able to call her. Just please get off Google
in the meantime! I’ve even told her that Doctor Google and WebMD will say everything is cancer or fatal and it’s not good for you, and she just kind of brushed it off.
One of my friends calls her the Professional Victim. Z is convinced she has Factitious Disorder (formerly called Munchausen’s). She loves to hide behind her illnesses as to why she can’t get out of bed or can’t do chores. If you were to listen to her every day, you’d think she was falling apart at the seams because it was always something. Migraine, body pain, allergies, sinus problems or sinus infections, stomach problems, dizziness, shakiness. Repeat. Forever.
She will ask me if her forehead feels hot, and when I can’t tell, she checks with a thermometer. She says, “My natural body temperature is low so 99 degrees is a fever to me.”
This is also where I gave her a lot of benefit of the doubt at the beginning, because EDS and POTs will affect the entire body in different ways. One of my friends, in her casual dark humor, will have conversations with me about how she’s just not going to be able to walk properly that day, because her ankle joint slid out of place, but she still finished her work shift. I talk to my friend regularly about her struggles with her body, but somehow it doesn’t have the same self-pity that Vulture’s does. Every disability presents differently between people. As rare as EDS and POTs is, it’s pretty common in online communities because it’s where people tend to flock to. In my time in varying disabled online communities, I’ve never seen someone who complains or fishes for attention as much as Vulture does.
If she’s having a relatively good day, she will either be gaming, or maybe she will get to one of the chores that OLB tries to get her to do during the day, like doing the dishes or cleaning Kid’s room. When OLB had prescription Adderall (before the shortage made him switch to a different ADHD med), she took one of his pills and was zooming around actually being productive. She has symptoms of ADHD but doesn’t have a formal diagnosis, so OLB thought it might help her. It seemed to.
If she has a bad day, which is most of her days, she stays rooted on the couch or moves between her couch and her bed, moving her laptop with her. She spends all day building in Minecraft, completing her Pokedex, or playing other games.
Sometimes when I come out of my room to cook, she says something along the lines of, “I planned
on cleaning today,” followed by vague hand gestures of how she’s feeling. I never asked her about her daily plans, but she needed to tell me. Is it self-awareness or guilt?
If she’s doing a load of dishes, she will loudly proclaim that she’s dizzy and shaky and in pain and have to go sit down after 10 minutes of that. I don’t know if she actually has the body strength to stay upright for longer than ten minutes at a time, and I don’t know if that’s her actual chronic illnesses, or the fact that she doesn’t do anything at all.
I’ve given her the same advice I use myself for low spoon (low energy) days when I need to get things done. I’ve told her it’s okay to take ten-minute breaks and then get started again. Or an hour break, if her body is giving her trouble. I’ve told her it’s okay to clean the house while sitting on the ground or in a chair, if that’s easier on her body. In managing my broken mental health, I’ve taught myself all sorts of life hacks, or as I call them, “brain hacks,” to work around how gross depression makes me feel. And I’ve told her that if it’s a really bad day, the dishes aren’t going anywhere and can wait until tomorrow.
That’s meant to be compassionate, not taken in the “if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile” sort of way, but it must be interpreted as permission to not do The Thing. It just won’t get done if she feels she has permission to skip over it.
If she does anything, she will want metaphorical ass pats for her good work. OLB jokes that it’s a praise kink, but some days it really seems that way without anyone consenting to participate in her kink. She asks if I noticed she cleaned the kitchen or did some kind of cleaning and if I’m proud of her. I used to play along with the praise because I wanted to give her positive reinforcement, like maybe if I emphasized that it was a good thing, she’d be more encouraged to do it more. I’ve got jokes, apparently. Optimism was so strong early in the friendship.
If she cooks, usually it’s something frozen that she can heat up like pizza. Most of the time, she exists on boxed macaroni and cheese or sandwiches. Or what fast food OLB brings home. Most of her diet is processed, instant, or frozen. Or she eats odds and ends like what cereal and junk food is brought home from the food bank or when OLB goes shopping.
Since SA left the house, I took up cooking for myself and exploring what I like to cook, as SA was the main cook for the house. My gym regimen helped me meal prep and confront a lot of my bad eating habits, so I started prepping healthier foods. I am the stereotypical lifter that eats a lot of chicken, rice, and vegetables. Z also likes to cook, and it became a way for us to bond by cooking together or one of us watching the other cook and just vibe in each other’s company.
VultureBeard gets her name because, one, she is a legbeard. But two, every time I made something early on with her living with us, she always said something along the lines of, “Ooh, that smells so good! It’s making me hungry!”
Me, in my doormat stage, took the cue that she dangled and offered her some of my food. Back then, I always tried to cook enough for the whole house. It became a pattern. If I cooked something, she always popped up, hungry and unable to make actual food for herself or somehow her illnesses were acting up and preventing her from cooking for herself. If I said I was popping over to the store, sometimes she would ask if I could pick up a soda for her and occasionally, she would be able to pay me, always in loose change because her disability payments went right to the bills that she and OLB had. I always took the bait because yeah, doormats will doormat and vultures will vulture.
She does reciprocate in small ways, sharing some occasional treats with me or saying I can have some of her mac n cheese or Oreo cookies or French fries or whatever food she has some days. But for the most point, a lot of her behavior feels like fishing – fishing for attention, for food, for confirmations of her medical issues.
Her general attitude towards housework also contributes to her main other issue that makes me want to scream. She hoards. Empty salsa jars, Nesquik containers, pizza boxes, mac n cheese boxes. She holds onto things that Z and I see as garbage, because she has dozens of DIY projects in mind. She would be the person that followed 5 Minute Crafts for useful projects. To her credit, she did make a nifty sock organizer out of spare cardboard. But she has dozens of empty frozen pizza boxes and macaroni boxes piled up on her desk and ideas in her head, but no actual execution of them. I have pictures on my phone of her desk hoard, and while the desk itself is tall, the pile on the topmost part of the desk reaches the ceiling. That’s at least two feet of buildup.
It drives Z batty. With their OCD, Z can’t stand seeing the general mess in the house, but her desk makes them want to throw things. There was an empty Pizza Hut box that spent a week on the floor under the table in the living room before she finally picked it up and moved it to her desk. She scolded my cat for jumping on it. Vulture
: I want to save it for a project, I just don’t know what I want to use it for yet. Me
: Why not just throw it away? Isn’t it garbage?
She only gave a vague shrug, and the pizza box stayed on her desk for another few days until while cleaning the kitchen, Z got tired of looking at it and finally took it out to the outside garbage bin.
This is a constant pattern for her. She hoards things that she sees as something that could be useful in the future, but in the meantime it all stacks up and takes up space. She and OLB both are pack rats, which I think enables it further. OLB said that she also hoards food when she thinks there’s a food shortage in the house, but that also includes things that shouldn’t be eaten or are close to being spoiled. She freezes produce and even bread dough she made because she would start projects and then not have the energy to finish them or deal with them properly. I think if Z and I weren’t in the house, it would just be a rat’s nest of garbage.
That was why Z and I took on the majority of housework. We have a current setup to deep clean the common areas of the house monthly, and anything she doesn’t pick up that we read as trash will get thrown out. It’s barely making a change in the house, but it’s better for our mental health. It’s unfortunate that the house barely stays clean for two days after we clean it.
OLB usually has an excuse for not contributing towards the housework. His ADHD makes him forgetful, plus he hates dishes and purposefully avoids them until he knows he has to deal with it. He’s mostly just exhausted from work. With Vulture? Ten thousand excuses.
With OLB working an exhausting but consistent tech repair job, that leaves Vulture in charge of Kid during the day. If she exists entirely in her bed and the couch, how is she able to keep up with a toddler? Oh, that’s going to be a huge tale on its own. Fuckle the buck up. We’ve got a long way to go. And yes, it will make you angry.
What's up? I'm pretty stoked it's a long weekend despite the fact I'm stuck at home currently. I work from home, I'm on-call during a complicated situation and also currently battling an inflammation on my skin that's keeping me at home anyway.
To pass the time I'm playing some Minecraft and also doing some other stuff in VR and just building up my VR legs again. It's good stuff, but hella lonely. I have a friend group that I hang with on discord pretty religiously, but there's always room for more. These guys also don't really engage with my VR stuff so despite a couple friends playing on this server with me, I'm the only VR guy (And that's totally fine! Again, just sorta lonely)
Really, I'm just thinking that it'd be stellar to meet someone here and they'd be down to get into the weeds about themselves and if we click then we can totally start talking on VC or even move right onto getting you into the MC world as it's modded and such. Bonus points if you're keen on getting into VR with me or if you're local and all of this just sounds interesting and you want to know more. Like my title says, I'm an active guy. I stay active to be healthy so I can enjoy myself at home worry-free. Thank you for reading this far and as proof you did so (and you're going to reach out to me) let me know in the DMs a physical activity you like to get into and I'll grant you one wish (within reason)
Sorry if this is too vague in advance. There was this old minecraft youtuber who did a roleplay series. I can't remember the plot, only that one of the members was kicked for constantly changing their skin and later rejoined. There was a kill chamber plot point, as well as an apocalypse at some point and a castle/mansion on the hill. One of the guys also found a plot important sword in a player-made underground temple/dungeon near the start of the series. If I remember anything else I'll edit the post but for now that's it. Like I said at the start, I realize this is vague and will likely not result in an answer
We are pakistani. Im 17m and my dad has abused me in my childhood. He has abused me so much in the past and during my childhood. When he gets angry, he takes it out on us kids even for stupid reasons like me going to the bathroom (i was maybe 8 or 9) when he wanted to use the bathroom which was actually not the reason because he wanted to go to his sisters wedding in Pakistan (we are in the UK) and my mum was in her early stages of cancer so he didn't want my dad to go so he beat me so my mum was forced to say yes. We have left the house so many times with my mum because he would get abusive over stuff like my mum not letting him send money to his brother in Pakistan (he refused to get a job and we were struggling). He threw a tantrum during my brothers 18th birthday so we had to leave the house and my mum returned ingredients of his birthday meal (he told the butchers what he did and they thought of him differently because of that. He also destroyed my mums cancer medication because my mum didnt have any energy to cook. Once I had locked the door with the wrong key of the attic so it somehow locked but couldn't unlock and I ran out of the house (my mum died that same year) and ended up going to my uncles house where i stayed until he calmed down (he used a hammer to open the door lock). My dad works nightshift at the weekend and goes sleep during the day.
My little brother is autistic and he never stops annoying me. He used to cut me with his nails and rip them my skin and I still have scars from ages ago all over my arm. I got my door key to lock the door to stop him from annoying me. (My dad never did anything about it and would allow him to do this to me)
Today I made my little brother breakfast and woke him up early so he can eat. I made him some hot chocolate and went into the living room where the xbox is. I was playing Minecraft and he came in. I told him to get out but he didn't and he took my controller and was messing up my world. I turned the xbox off and he took my water bottle and ran off with it(usually what he always does). My stepmum was there cooking in the kitchen and she tried to get the water bottle off him but she couldn't and my brother threw it on the floor I was very annoyed but I tried to go back but I think he threw his tablet at me and sexually assaulted me (he usually does that). The tablet hit my hip bone and it hurt so much and I lost it. I tried to kick my brother but I ended up pushing him to the door and he started screaming. I ran to the attic (my bedroom) and locked the door.
My dad woke up and my brother told him to beat me up. He came kind of calm telling me to open the door to 'see me' he asked me why I pushed him and I told him the situation in a loud voice (I was still angry) and he told me to open the door. His voice was getting louder and was turning into that voice he uses when he is angry. He started slamming on the door and told me to open the door and he was going to get the screw driver out and unscrew the door. I was apologising and was terrified. His wife came up and begged him to stop but he got a hammer I think out and started hitting it on the door telling me to open it. It was so loud I thought he would break the door down. I heard him getting some tools and that is when I opened it. I tried running out but he had a hammer and was telling me to go back upstairs(the door is where the stairs start) his wife was behind him and trying to get the hammer out of his hands and I pushed the hammer away. He pointed to the bed and he almost stepped on my cat as he was really really angry. He went on my bad and put his knee on my legs and started screaming at me whilst slapping me. I begged him to stop and apologised so many times to him and he was talking about hitting my knees with a hammer or drilling into it since the '3 months in jail would be ok'. He calmed down enough to tell me to apologise to my brother. I was hysterical and I was hyperventilating and I apologised so many times to my brother my and my brother was normal and said with a sort of smile 'I accept his apology'. My dad kept trying to get a hammer out and his wife begged him to stop. He said it was my fault and how I wasted his 15 minutes because he was going to my uncles house before going to work as my auntie is going to Pakistan. My clothes has his spit all over it and I went upstairs. He kept blaming me saying how he won't get to eat cause of me and how he has a 12 hour shift. He told my brother that if I ever not let him touch my cats (he is usually squeezing them or scaring them and chasing them around the house so that is why I don't let my brother touch them) then he will sell my cats and then he will drill into my legs and I will remember this lesson for the rest of my life. He is out of the house now and was coming into my room blaming me for him losing his voice. I'm just so glad to not have a stick or my laptop or anything like that near my bed. I can't call the police and I have been writing this for 30 minutes. Thanks for reading
Edit: I can't go to the police or tell anyone about this since if my dad goes to jail then the house will be taken and I might be put in the Foster care system for only a couple of months before being homeless or something like that. Also I don't want people to think of me as a house breaker or as something bad for calling the police and he only does this maybe once or twice a year so it doesn't happen that often. He did say how he was going to kill me today and I know it isn't for what I did but the small stress he couldn't handle as yesterday my brother woke him up several times and my dad was completely calm and fine. The door is made out of 100% wood and it only made a few dents in the door. I think he was snooping in my room since he knows I have some money saved up and he will stop my pocket money everyweek but idk if he will. Thanks for the advice everyone. I am OK and he is at work. I have blocked him so he can't call me whilst he is at work anymore.
Now minecraft (both versions) have servers which involve micro transactions which is fine, However for Java we see many MANY servers break the EULA prohibiting pay-to-win practices however it is rarely enforced by mojang and is literal gambling for children.
Bedrock has a promoted server (pixel paradise) which abuses the integration with marketplace to lock parts of the server behind pay walls, so more pay to play but still awful Also pay-to-win servers are hosted on bedrock mainly accessible on mobile and pc platforms
Now the marketplace can be predatory to the child with a lot of mediocre content however things like ratings help combat this to a degree with a lot of great content on the marketplace mainly gamemode1 but alot of other collaborations are made for the marketplace which is presented upfront not the among us, dream, anime stuff. Lastly you get something from the marketplace, be it skins or maps you own these and get something of value