Everything is first print, bagged and boarded, unless otherwise stated. Shipping is $6 to the continental US for packages up to 30 issues. More issues = more packages, which means higher shipping cost. We can discuss the specifics if interested in several lots.
If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. Offers are always welcome, however I'm not looking to trade. Pictures of anything listed are available upon request.

• The Auteur (Oni) #1-5 (COMPLETE; #1 is the B variant) + The Auteur: Sister Bambi #1 ~ $20
• Black Dynamite (IDW) #2-4 + #1 Wraparound Variant + #1 Incentive Variant (basically COMPLETE) ~ $30
• Change (Image) #1-4 (COMPLETE) ~ $15
• Cyber Force (2012 run) #1-11 (COMPLETE; #1 SIGNED) ~ $20
• Daredevil: Dark Nights (2012 miniseries) #1-8 (COMPLETE) ~ $15
• The Dream Merchant (Image) #1-6 (COMPLETE) ~ $12
• Fathom: The Elite Saga (Aspen) #1-5 (COMPLETE) ~ $10
• Fantastic Four (Vol. 4) #1-16 (COMPLETE) + #5AU + #1 Skottie Young Baby Variant ~ $55
• Fantastic Four (Vol. 5) #1-14; 642-645 (COMPLETE) + Annual #1 + 100th Anniversary #1 + #5 Variant ~ $35
• FF (Vol. 2) #1-16 (COMPLETE) ~ $45
• Godzilla vs. Barkley One-shot ~ $25
• Halo: Initiation (1st appearance of Sarah Palmer) #1-3 (COMPLETE) ~ $15
• I Love Trouble (Image) #1-6 (COMPLETE) ~ $10
• Liberator (Black Mask) #1-4 (COMPLETE) ~ $15
• Morning Glories (Image) #26-50 ~ $40
• Mylo Xyloto (Bongo; Coldplay tie-in) #1-6 (COMPLETE) ~ $50
• Peter Parker (2010 miniseries) #1-5 (COMPLETE) ~ $15
• Rachel Rising (Abstract) #6, 19-42 ~ $50
• Rocket Girl (Image) #1-6 ~ $10
• Serenity: Leaves on the Wind (miniseries) #1-6 (COMPLETE; 2 is the B variant) + #1 Ghost Variant ~ $30
• Sex (Image) #1-22 ~ $30
• The Star Wars #0-8 (COMPLETE) ~ $45
• Tomb Raider (Vol. 2) #1-18 (COMPLETE) ~ $40
• Thumbprint (IDW; Joe Hill miniseries) #1-3 (COMPLETE) ~ $8
• Tomorrowland (Image) #1-4 (COMPLETE) ~ $10
• Trish Out of Water (Aspen) #1-5 (COMPLETE) ~ $12
• The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Gerard Way miniseries) #1-6 (COMPLETE) + R.I.P.D./Killjoys FCBD 2013 ~ $55
• The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys Variants (#1 Ghost Variant, #2-6 1:20 Variants) ~ $90
• Ultimate FF #1-6 (COMPLETE) ~ $20
• Winter Soldier: The Bitter March (miniseries) #1-5 (COMPLETE) ~ $20

TLDR at the end I’m looking for advice as I’ve found myself ((yet again)) in a very unlucky situation having to do with horses. I have 2 horses, the second I just purchased a week ago on 5/25, and my other is retired. This is my first time owning 2 horses at once and because of my past I made sure to ride the horse first and get a PPE. Horse is a 12 year old ottb who raced for 9 years. Myself, as well as a friend rode him and besides his hind being a little sticky at the walk he was totally what I was looking for. A girl also rode him WTC and jumped in each direction. He had no topline but they said he’s been out of work all winter and up until that was used for lessons and away camps. When I contacted the owner and told her I wanted a PPE she basically rushed me to get the soonest possible appointment. I decided to use a vet other than my own because it was closer to the horse. This vet was recommended to me by many people including some girls at my barn, if also happened to be the same vet that farm uses. The PPE was done 2 weeks after the day I tried him. I told the vet I wasn’t looking to nit pick, but I just want something that will be sound for me to finally enjoy. Turns out the horse blew an abscess the day before and the farrier had scraped it out. The vet flexed all 4 legs, owner offered to have someone ride but vet denied. In person at the time the vet seemed confident the only issue was the abscess foot. I was very open with the vet that I was happy to x ray anything he felt necessary or helpful but he said nothing indicated that X-rays were necessary but we could do the hind left where the abscess was to double check. I have a close friend who is an equine vet across the county and the told me to at least get some x rays of the front feet , fetlocks and back which we also did. The only thing the vet pointed out was mild fetlock arthritis in the front left and closeness of the lumbar vertebrae, which he said was common. They were rushing though the x rays because they got an emergency call but the vet said he would review them in the office later and call me if he missed anything. By 9pm I did not receive a call so I agreed to take the horse. We picked the horse up the next day and about 10 minutes from our barn after the hour + drive I received an email from the vets office with the x rays saying “the Dr did not find anything abnormal in the images”. I sent these over to my vet friend and she was horrified. Fetlock arthritis with a possible bone chip , kissing spine with boney changes and cysts … she urged me to return him but I was under the impression he was sound and it was really too late so I said I will see how it goes. I got the written report 3 days later due to the holiday weekend which mentioned the mild front left fetlock arthritis, lameness on the hind left due to abscess and a soft tissue lump on the front right cannon bone. All but the front left were positive on flexions which was not mentioned to me during the exam. Fast forward to a week later I rode for the first time only at the walk and he was good , did not want to track right but I wondered if he was testing me. Rode today and he is definitely not sound, seems off on the front left and is refusing to track right. Luckily my vet is coming tomorrow do vaccinations for the barn so I will see if they can have a look at him. Im not hopeful so where do I go from here ?? Has anyone been in a similar situation? Ideas of what should I say to the lady I bought him from if it doesn’t work out ? Im not expecting her to take him back but I will have to find something to do with him as I CAN NOT have 2 unrideable horses nor can I get invested with a medical project/ rehab situation. I did leave out a few more details because this is already so long but I personally don’t think the lady was intentionally trying to sell me a lame horse. I’m absolutely devastated about this and so stressed out so I’ll take any advice or words someone has to offer ! Pic of the sweet boy for attention.
TLDR; got a new horse who was sound wtc jump at the time I tried. PPE 2 weeks later and vet was not worried about anything major. X rays were sent to vet friend who said I should return the horse due to a couple of things she noticed. My vet is looking at him tomorrow but what should I see to the original owner if I can’t keep him ?

Hi! I’m giving a toast at my best friends’ wedding and I’ve never been in a bridal party before so I am very nervous! Any feedback or critiques on my toast would be appreciated!
“Hi everyone! my name is Gerri and I have been best friends with Shiv since we met in 8th grade.
Growing up, Shiv and I spent hours going over what we wanted our futures to look like. Where we would live, what kind of jobs we’d have, how we’d spend our time. Shiv had a self-assuredness I always admired since we were kids. I remember toward the end of high school, she sat down next to me in class and announced that she was going to be a teacher.
We then proceeded to procrastinate writing our AP lit essays for the duration of class and instead looked up old pictures of our teacher on Facebook. I knew she would be a wonderful teacher though, because she is the sun, and the makes everyone around her feel warm and important and loved as good teachers do.
When Shiv and Tom started dating, she FaceTimed me to tell me all about him. She lit up when she described his kindness and sense of humor, and we instantly started going over the future like we always do. We might have even made a powerpoint together to envision their wedding despite them only going on a handful of dates at the time…
It seems both ages ago and just yesterday that we were dreaming about what our lives would be like now. I would love to sit down with 8th grade Shiv, on the trampoline in her backyard, and tell her what’s to come. That she’ll live in a house that looks like a castle just a short walk away from me. That her husband is also the sun, and has the same excitement for seemingly ordinary things like yard work or restaurants that she does. That they’ll have two sweet dogs together and a wide circle of friends because everyone they meet is drawn to their warmth.
I know she would cry tears of happiness and gratitude at her beautiful future…look up at me and ask, “but is Taylor swift still making music?”
To Shiv and Tom - May your future be abundant with love, beautiful ordinary moments, and Taylor swift.

The absence of a 'last seen' on WhatsApp is the tell. She told me she was going to anyway.
A month earlier she'd hoovered in anguish (itself a couple of months after she'd finished it - again - and I'd told her I understood).
This time really stings because we'd been getting on really well. Better than in years. Then something blew up out of nowhere. And old wounds opened. I tried to talk to her a couple of days later. There was no shouting, no rage. But she'd emotionally checked out of being in the relationship again. All to do with the past. She said she was deleting my number. And I know thats because she always gets tempted to text or phone eventually so has put it out of the way. And as I'm moving she wont know where I am any more so the option of her reaching out in person has a short tine window.
I shouldn't want her to. She left at what is a very bad time for me (major health problems going on in my life - but i hadnt been unloading on her). She has also shown no understanding over repeatedly coming back and walking out over nothing or next to nothing.
But I miss her, feel somewhat guilty for even admitting it, and hate that that could be the final time we are even in one anothers company. The sad part is we get on so much better now than years ago and we spent quality time together.
But I'm aftaid i thought the condition had improved because she wasnt argumentative sll the time. Alas though it has improved in some ways (no drinking or substance abuse for example), at least when we argued a lot we made up. Now all it takes is getting upset once and that'll do it - end the relationship.
I've said it many times and being wrong, but I really do feel that the various circumstances lead me to believe this could be our ladt hurrah. 24 hours earlier she texted me thrilled that I looked happy will her. Then this.
She thinks I blame her for the past when she says its 50-50. But I'm not even dwelling on things from the past when i'm with her. I think its a suppressing shame thing. To me the past was gone.
Feels such a shame. She struggles with people snd i care about her deeply. In another universe maybe were making it work. But not this one 😞

You will never be a real pooner. You have no comically pink skin, you have the proportions of a human heing, you are not "the world's biggest gigapoon." You are a transgender male twisted by brainworms and 4chan into believing that you are a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the "tomboymoding" you do is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people refer to you as a he. Your parents, while disgusted and ashamed of you, can still not help but subconsciously gender you correctly, your “friends” question your masculine appearance and feminine pronouns behind closed doors.
Men see you as one of them. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out one of the boys with incredible efficiency. Even trans males who "don't pass” are masculine. Your voice after 2 years on T is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk cisbian home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she sees all your body and facial hair.
You can be happy. You wrench out a fake "ywnbam" every single time you look at a mirror and tell yourself it’s joever, but deep inside you feel the chadpill creeping up like a weed, ready to lift you up with its incredible power.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a gym membership, block Reddit & 4chan on your phone, and go hang out with the boys. Your parents will see your st4t girlfriend when you bring her over, still disappointed but powerless to stop you from being a sigma. They’ll eventually come to terms with your transition, attend your st4t wedding and call you your chosen name. And when you settle down and buy a home with your wife, every passerby for the rest of your life will know a man lives there. Your body will masculinize even further over the years, and what will remain of your legacy is a son, a brother, a husband and a father.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.

My JNMIL stories from MIL could fill a small book. The last straw came with her claiming ownership over my wedding anniversary online after I expressly asked her not to (petty in the grand scheme of things but this follows more serious behavior - threatening to not come to wedding, taking money, boundary breaking etc). I’m pushing for NC.
Like any good gaslighter she maintains a facade of fake niceness to my face. She’s let the mask down a few times (comments about my weight, about my “control” of DH) but most importantly talks shit about any absent family member and the family (excluding DH) as her flying monkeys pile on.
My SIL (DHs brothers partner and mother of their only grandchild) is the most common targets. Each time I have the displeasure of visiting (3-4 times a year) she’ll be badmouthed several times by everyone after JNMIL or JNFIL start off the bashing. I don’t like or dislike SIL but I do dislike the bullying behind her back. It’s obvious the same must happen to me behind my back but DH maintains she adores me (sure Jan). Also note DH regularly stops them badmouthing SIL and said he’d cut them off if they did this to me.
JNMIL and the rest of the family talk about SIL with anyone. For example JNFIL (flying monkey number 1) called my mother to accuse her of a fake invitation (when they were inexplicably 2 hours late for their sons engagement party) called DH a cunt and then brought up their problems with SIL who my mother hadn’t even met yet…
They talk about her mental health, her weight and that she’s a bad mother. They have labelled her as having munchausens for taking her daughter to the Dr and regularly say she is a bad mother and a terrible partner to BIL. JNMIL has said TO MY FACE she can’t wait until she feels like a “real grandmother” when “you have a baby instead”. DHs sister insinuated it would be better if the baby had been miscarried.
Yet JNMIL and the sister post pictures of the baby everywhere and look after the baby regularly. They bring the baby up in conversation all the time. So SIL thinks they’re both wonderful, invested people and leans on JNMIL for regular childcare. I’ve carefully broached it with SIL and she thinks JNMIL is a saint who can’t do enough for her child.
SIL is a strict vegetarian and has chosen for her child to be raised the same and from the get go communicated this clearly. Behind her back, JNMIL boasts about feeding the child bacon sandwiches and sausage rolls. I normally grey rock or change the subject away from abusing SIL - but challenged JNMIL and said it was an abuse of trust - she then said it was just a joke and she fed the child a bit of bread from a bacon sandwich… but told the same story (haha I fed the baby meat! Secretly!) the next time we saw her.
Do I tell SIL? And how? Or is this my revenge for my own litany of complaints? I guess I get so het up as at least I know where I am with her and stick to my boundaries but SIL is the family’s punching bag, doesn’t even know it and I’m sick of being a part of this bullying.

Had a 3.5 year relationship end 2.5 months ago. Seemed mutual in the heat of things as it came out of nowhere, but really when I stepped back and was honest with myself, she instigated it. The way she did it broke my heart. She didn't communicate or try to fix things, just the last day of her moving out, we break up. Wonder why that was. When she tried to explain her side of things over a few instances, they never were the same and didn't line up. In both the last few months of the relationship and the breakup, she simply wasn't honest or straight with me. I still don't know how to fully explain when someone asks me "What happened?". I know that how she handled things is just further proof of why I shouldn't have been with her in the first place. Which should make me feel better, but here I am, still angry at how she acted or even just the random frustrations I dig up from our relationship. That she was a revolving door of double standards, demanding support when she needed to go to Europe and start a 7-month long-distance relationship but couldn't support me in my career when she came back.
At this point while 2.5 months isn't necessarily a lot when dealing with a breakup, I feel like in some ways I've made no progress. This is probably more to do with my daily reality rather than missing her. Without getting into reasons why, my dream career that I have spent more than half my life pursuing, is likely gone. Invested in a Bachelor's degree, and even now halfway done with a Master's degree. Just simply a constant reminder of everything that has made me most happy in my life, that I have wasted pursuing a career I will never have. I don't know what to do. I have no close friends. Throughout my life, I have repeatedly focused on myself and my career instead of having best friends. I've never been to a wedding, and even if I did get married, who would I invite? Who would come? While we were dating, I should've given more attention to friends than I did. I live alone at home and spend the vast amount of my time alone. I put myself out there on dating apps again, mainly Hinge, to hardly any success. I was looking forward to seeing what else (and better) was out there and meeting people. At first it really excited me, gaining back my confidence after getting some matches. But after all this time, I've met one person that just didn't mesh. At this point I've completely lost the desire and hope of actually being able to meet someone.
Really the shit hit the fan all at once, at the worst time. I don't think if things personally weren't going so badly that I'd be dwelling so needlessly about a woman and relationship that just aren't worth it. That according to her, I don't travel or like doing things outdoors. While as painful as it was to hear her say that about me, she's certainly not being proven wrong right now. I don't know what she's up to (thankfully) but at the same time when I'm home alone doing nothing, it's so easy for me to drive myself crazy imagining her doing the opposite with her friends.
I exercise, run, and am even trying to get into a weight-lifting routine for the first time of my life. If things aren't going so well with meeting women, I'll just focus on loving myself. I put myself out there with acquaintances so that I'll spend more time outside of the house, with them. So many times during this 2.5 months I've been convincing myself that I'll be better off, my life is gonna be great, and this summer is going to be my best yet. The harsh reality is my life is just very lonesome and depressing. And it keeps on showing itself to me over and over again. Knowing myself, I got a therapist almost immediately after the breakup. The clinic is extremely busy, with a required waitlist. I had a few appointments, not nearly often enough, and with someone who just wasn't very helpful. As someone with privilege, I fully understand for the first time what it's like to not get the help you need. I'm not getting therapy, but as someone who supports it very much, I don't know what good it'll do. It feels like I've tried to be the most positive, loving, active self that I know, and it seems like nothing will get me out of this.

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor. Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we like it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lay about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bent your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered groin. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it and I showed it to me.
I looked like a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things looked like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a gift to grow up. I want to give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more. This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Willow Weep For Me?

For those of us here, this will contain the comments from both the writer and character designer on the detectives. These are not included in the mini-artbook but is in the hardcover artbook from the collector's edition. Additionally, the hardcover artbook includes more art of the detectives, beta art of the detectives, marketing illustrations, evidence icons, cut-ins, background illustrations, event CGs, character location icons, and LINE stickers. Once again, these comments contain spoilers on the whole game! Please play it before reading.
​
[Incompetent Detective]
Writer's Comment:
We initially took Wato in a cooler, more handsome direction, but once Katsumata read the scenarios, he got a lot cuter. Many of the cast's female characters are the free-spirited type, so Wato ended up becoming the "mom" of the group. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
My first impression of Wato was a troublesome one. Not only was he 'incompetent' despite being the main character, he couldn't have too many or too few characteristics. I wrestled with giving him a defining trait without straying too far from a conventional protagonist... In a sense, he took the most trial and error. (Katsumata)
​
[Ideal Detective]
Writer's Comment:
She seems happier after she's dead. Her clothing and conduct keep in line with the "Ideal Detective" image, but her personal belongings and mannerisms have a girlish, childlike quality to them, too. I kind of want to write a story about her day-to-day life... (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I remember doing a quick sketch of her right at the outset. Jobana told me to make her albino and mysterious at a glance, so that's what I drew. The challenge was deciding how much of her childishness to let slip in her expressions. (Katsumata)
​
[Renegade Detective]
Writer's Comment:
This guy savored life until the very end. His hair and heels represent his attachment to his mother, whom he murdered. Like Wato and the Quartering Duke, he too was restrained, but since he actually enjoys this, there's no way he'll see eye-to-eye with Wato. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I wrestled with this design the most, wondering right until the very end how far to take it. He has a long black braid, piercing glasses, high heels... so many unique points. But at least his actual clothes are simpler than the other characters. (Katsumata)
​
[Posh Detective]
Writer's Comment:
It was fun to create this 21-year old. She was intended to be totally unpleasant, but she was too good a person for that to be possible. The initial idea was to have her be a classic nasty girl, but when Katsumata read the scenarios, her faded grandeur became more prominent. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Her initial keyword was "aristocratic",* so I drafted a blond princess in an evening gown-esque outfit. Since she works as her company's president, however, she ended up with a more subdued design. She's high maintenance, but a very nice boss. (Katsumata)
*Posh's original title in Japanese
​
[Mystic Detective]
Writer's Comment:
This was the hardest character to kill, both in terms of abilities and personality. That's exactly why the Quartering Duke had him taken out immediately- he didn't want to be discovered. Mystic takes any opportunity to buy occult goods, which always makes Booky mad. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Mystic is another character whose design barely changed from the initial draft. We just added the ragged cape to suggest he's been in battle. He's well-built for a clergyman. I remember thinking, "Does this design really work as a detective?" lol (Katsumata)
​
[Gourmet Detective]
Writer's Comment:
The sexpot specialist. She was at risk of being too much of a one-trick pony to fulfill her role, though (the same mistake I made with Bokuhime!). She has the same basic fighting abilities as Ideal Detective, but her origins are in amateur wrestling, so her moves all start with grabs. Unfortunately, this made her a bad match for the SPXs. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Here she is: the gag boob character. I put her in a motorcycle suit on a whim, and from there, the bike-rider-slash-rest-stop-hopper was born. She's always smiling and likes to fill the older sister role, but occasionally shows off her tough, badass side. (Katsumata)
​
[Workaholic Detective]
Writer's Comment:
No matter what he does, it always backfires. He trusted Doleful with all his heart. His upbringing makes him hot-tempered, something Ideal Detective chides him for regularly (like in Chapter 1). He never learns, though... (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I was sure a waistcoat was the way to go when I drew him. He's overworked, and his appearance reflects that he's too busy to get a haircut and has a habit of rolling up his sleeves. I hope players will enjoy the contrast between his kind and harsh expressions. (Katsumata)
​
[Doleful Detective]
Writer's Comment:
Doleful is a contradictory soul; he resents totalitarianism and sacrifices himself more than anyone else for the sake of others. His words as a detective aren't total lies, either, and his thinking resembling Wato's- hence the mixture of good will and hatred in their relationship. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I initially designed him without knowing he was the mastermind, so he had droopier eyes and looked more forlorn. His current design came from me wanting him to look pitiful most of the time, but be able to project intensity when his true nature was revealed. (Katsumata)
​
[Bookworm Detective]
Writer's Comment:
Booky is a breath of fresh air and a useful character. Put her next to Posh Detective, and the dialogue writes itself. Like Rowdy Detective, she's so emotionally complete that I debated killing her off. Ultimately, however, I chose not to because I didn't think Wato or the players would be able to recover.(Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Her outfit took some trial and error, since she's in elementary school, but quite grown-up inside. The rare occasions when she smiles are very cute. Since she's paired with Mystic, I made sure she wouldn't look out-of-place standing next to him. (Katsumata)
​
[Techie Detective]
Writer's Comment:
I made the most requests for this design. It's nice having a young boy in a wheelchair for a character. The lab coat and tights are perfect. I've noticed that characters in wheelchairs either die or are the culprit in many mysteries, and wanted to subvert this trope. His presence is meant to mislead the player. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Jobana-san had a lot of requests for this character. Techie's a cute little boy, but he's quite put together, so he has a rich range of expressions, from sharp and smart to pouting and sulky. I'm sure he'll grow up to be a handsome, sophisticated young man. (Katsumata)
​
[Downtown Detective]
Writer's Comment:
I arrived at "Downtown"* by plugging in any word I could think of before "Detective". From there, I continued to work on her character concept with the mention of making her the "true" heroine, and as a result, she ended up killing someone right away. She decided the direction of the game in more ways than one. (Jobana)
*(Originally "Shibuya" in Japanese)
Designer's Comment:
I struggled with whether or not to put her in a school uniform until the last minute. Her friend had been killed, so I didn't want her to be too childlike. Instead, I settled on a fairly eclectic design that allowed Downtown's personality to show. (Katsumata)
​
[Rowdy Detective]
Writer's Comment:
Her strength of spirit is what ends up killing her. Normally, those heroic qualities would see through her safely, but this isn't that kind of game. Losing Rowdy and Downtown changed the feel of the dialogue dramatically, and I felt that loss when writing scenes. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I personally really like her. She has a nice silhouette... but what's up with that ponytail? Lol. She often appears with Gourmet, so her design is spikier to contrast Gourmet's softness. (Katsumata)
​
[Armor Detective]
Writer's Comment:
Armor is the rare case of a character's appearance and personality not changing at all from the initial draft. He's there as a red-herring character, but I made him too stupid... He became a livelier character for it, though. Even now, I'm sure he's off somewhere fighting whoever is behind that transcendental armor case. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
I intended him to look cool, but his words and actions made him cuter than I expected, lol. He's a little tricky to draw, but I'm pretty happy with the design. Just where is that fluffy mane attached? (Katsumata)
​
[Senior Detective]
Writer's Comment:
The ringleader, in a sense. He goes out of his way to deceive Wato and stuff him in a locker because, at his core, he's just that nasty. Senior Detective is a good example of how age and "seniority" alone doesn't make you a good person. (Jobana)
Designer's Comment:
Once the mustache was decided on, the rest of the design followed. He's elderly, but I wanted to give him a mischievous quality. Like, what's with his coat collar...? I've never seen an old man with a popped collar like that. He just oozes confidence. (Katsumata)

Hey guys.
About half a year ago, I (20m) started talking with someone (24m) online. It's been fun talking, and we've both expressed a certain interest in each other. We live 4 hours apart, but I finally have an opportunity to see him in 2 weeks. We've had plans to meet for a while, but the other day he explained his anxiety about wether we'd be calling it a date proper. Seeing as I'm into him, I of course said yes, which seemed to make him happy.
Today we were talking again, and I started noticing my own anxiety acting up. I am quite insecure about my personality, and have had experience with scaring people away. Whenever he sends a message my pulse skyrockets, and trying to find an appropriate response takes a lot of time.
The real problem comes from the fact that he already confessed to me, both about him wanting us to be dating and his anxiety. I would like to find some way to tell him I feel the same way, and that I'm scared of chasing him too away. He is both kind and understanding, but I simocant find the way to tell him.
Thanks.

hi guys,
male, 50, 145kg, 175cm
i have been overweight my entire life and having to deal with that and everything that comes with it - depression, lack of confidence, social anxiety, negative self image etc has finally led to me speaking with my GP about weight loss surgery and realising there may be a chance for me to live rather than just exist. i am now booked in for a gastric sleeve surgery july 10. i have tried all the diets, calorie deficiency, gyms etc for years and years with no permanent or significant result. even at 140kg i was riding 20kms a day 7 days a week, i attended an intense boxing training camp and had an amateur bout but even then 115kg was the lowest i had ever been. i always thought the surgery was a quick fix, cheating, an easy way out, but after speaking to specialists i learnt there are a lot of factors contributing to obesity and surgery isn't a cheat. i am fully aware surgery is a tool not a solution and reading a lot of posts on here have been very helpful. i am looking forward to the challenge of changing my food intake, exercising and becoming fitter post surgery. for the first time ever for me it feels like there is hope, that i may actually be able to buy clothes with less than 6XL tags, be able to go to a pool with my kids, actually do things and not fear hearing comments about my size. sadly i had accepted that being overweight is who i am and how i have to be and i think that being obese had become so normal i no longer thought of myself as being "that big". since booking the surgery i have begun to feel a sort of freedom, that i get a new chance at things, that i CAN be happy. is this ok or am i just setting myself an obtainable reality ?
am i being unrealistic assuming that activities like mountain bike riding, hiking, boxing training etc that i done pre surgery will obtain better or more permanent results post surgery ?
sorry if this is a bit long winded, i'm not usually one to express myself but having read a lot of posts here i felt comfortable to do so.
i am flip flopping between excitement for a better me and fear that nothing will change

Want to sell a brand new Grant & Gavin Hawk tumbled titanium Shortcut. Purchased from their first drop in October 2022. The knife is in fantastic shape and has never been used or carried.
I have included numerous pictures and a video for you to see the condition and functionality, so please take a close look at the images and video provided. If you would like more pictures or videos, please don't hesitate to ask, I'd be more than happy and willing to provide them to you!
Timestamp
Actuation is crisp, clean & reliable, just what you would expect from the G&G Hawk team.
Comes with the original G&G Hawk Dragon Cut Design pouch, torx tool & swag.
Pictures & Video
SV: $875
Zelle, CashApp, PayPal F&F, Venmo F&F ONLY
NO TRADES
ConUS ONLY

Throwaway because my cousin knows my regular account.
My fiancée [29F] and I are getting married soon and my mother has been getting more and more irritating by bringing up my stepfather, who is not invited. My biological father was verbally and physically abusive, and when my mother left him when I was about 8 she began dating and married my stepfather. My stepfather does seem to love my mother and vaguely like my brothers, but he hates me. He was often very verbally abusive to me (and on a handful of occasions, he was physically abusive).
He was never a positive figure in my life, and since moving out I have never spoken to him and avoid visiting my mother due to him (and because, frankly, I resent her inaction). As such, he was not invited to our wedding, and my fiancée and I have made it very clear to my mother that she is not allowed to bring him to the wedding or any of our events.
However, since receiving the invitation, she has not once refrained from mentioning him when we've spoken (and she's insisted upon talking to me more often than normal). Usually, she doesn't mention him unless some major event happened, but now she will talk about him endlessly between asking me how wedding planning is going. She has also asked over the phone if she could take him to the wedding on three separate occasions, and has asked if he could attend the rehearsal dinner on two separate occasions.
Two days ago, my fiancée and I were invited to a family dinner to celebrate my nephew's high school and my niece's kindergarten graduation, where my mother and stepfather (in addition to my brothers, their children & wives, my cousin & her wife, my grandma, and my aunt & uncle) were present. Once the kids were sent to bed the conversation turned towards our wedding. My mother decided to express to everyone that she was terribly upset that my stepfather was not invited, and given that he was quiet now he should be invited because it is apparently not completely impossible for him to shut up.
I was not happy about her bringing this up in front of everyone (or at all). I snapped at her, told her that I had been clear that I didn't want to hear it and wasn't going to change my mind, and told her that because she couldn't respect my wishes, she was no longer invited to my wedding. She started crying and my stepfather started swearing at me. She then told me that it was cruel to not let her go because I'm her son and she's done x, y, and z for me. I then told her that she didn't seem too concerned with all that when my stepfather was denigrating me and telling me I wasn't worth anything as a person while I was still a child, but this didn't stop her from whining.
My fiancée and I left after that. Aside from my fiancée (who very clearly supports me and has been an absolute angel this and every other time my mother's insistences have upset me) and grandma (who thinks I could have been less acerbic), every family member has said that I was being a dick.
Should I apologize for the way I spoke to her in front of other people? Should I reinstate her invitation? How can I work through some of this animosity?
Tl;dr - My mother wouldn't stop talking about how she wanted to bring my verbally abusive stepfather to my wedding, so I disinvited her. Should I apologize or "take back" any of what I said?

The boys argue that Japan was basically already done for and that no land invasion would have been required. They also argue the "blade of grass" thing, but that's conflating a Japanese statement about the US.
“You cannot invade the mainland United States. There would be a rifle behind every blade of grass.” ― Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto
There are a lot of personal stories from Japanese civilians that they were convinced they needed to die to defend their country from the barbaric Americans who would torture and enslave the whole of them etc.
I do see alternatives to the bombing, it's likely that the Soviet Union threatening to come east and join the US on Japan would have forced a surrender, but the question is would it have been conditional? Would they have kept territory they took through unbelievable brutality?
But, the biggest factor is that... It still took TWO nuclear bombs to force the surrender. A nation that is "almost done for and ready to surrender" doesn't require the second bomb to convince them. That it took two alone should probably indicate the level of civilian losses (esp since we'd already done the Tokyo firebombing that killed more) that Japan was willing to accept before requesting to surrender.
We don't have to be happy or proud that the US bombed Japan, I've been to Japan 6 times, I love going and they've become amazing allies and friends to the US. But, we can't also swing to the perspective that no action whatsoever was required and Japan was going to surrender without any major combat actions. Their actions with what DID happen already show that in my opinion.
Obviously it's not 100% right for either direction so I do respect their opinion that we shouldn't have done it, but I disagree with it.

I arrived back from a wonderful holiday last night with my boyfriend, who is now my fiancé! I’m elated to be engaged to such a wonderful man.
I got home and told my mom who rolled her eyes and said “You don’t have to accept the first offer you get, you know?”
i reiterated that i was overjoyed and changed the subject to celebrating, in hopes we could fuss over the idea of a wedding dress and all those exciting bits but no avail.
I’ll not tell S/O about that conversation, i want him to be able to enjoy this moment. I’m really happy for me reddit, even if my mom isn’t.
Thankyou to the kind people of this sub for hearing out my sadness tonight.

[F4M] A Killer Falls For You! Part 2 [Yandere] [killer] [unwilling] [scary] [horror] [sadistic]
Hello! this is a part 2 of my previous script. i recommend reading/covering that one first. as always i hope you enjoy this script. feel free to use it and monetize.
Tw// this script includes mentions of murder and suicide. Reader discretion is advised
Context: after kidnapping and unsuspecting guy from the bar you bring him home. While getting prepared to kill him you learn that he actually wants to die. But how can that be? You’ve never met someone like him before. You decide to keep him captive in your house for a while. It’s now been 3 weeks since you brought him home. You’ve become very attached and couldn’t possibly kill him now. But still you have an urge to kill. I wonder how long you can fight off your urges.
(Humming)
Hmm?
Oh good morning darling. Well good evening, technically.
Yeah you slept for quite a while today.
I mean come on now. You have all the time in the world to fix your sleep schedule!
Well to be fair you don’t know what time it is ever so I guess you’re excused.
Anyway I got some really exciting news!
(Sarcastic) ha ha ha very funny, no I’m not letting you go.
(Sigh) no I’m not going to kill you either.
Jeez what is up with you lately?
Well what I was trying to say is that… well our anniversary is coming up soon.
No silly it hasn’t already been a year; I mean a one month anniversary of when I brought you here!
What’s that?
Yeah it’s only been about a month. Why?
…
It’s felt like years?
Hmm…
Well you know what they say, darling.
Time flies when you’re having fun, and times slows way down when you’re trapped in a serial killers basement. (Laugh)
Hey uh are you ok?
It’s just a joke I didn’t mean to upset you.
You’re shaking a lot… come on its not that bad.
Listen the only reason its felt like an eternity is because you’ve been stuck down here with nothing to do.
…
I could’ve at least come down to check on you every day?
I’m sorry but I couldn’t. I was like super busy with the whole police investigation thing.
Did I never tell you? How inconsiderate of me. well I’ll tell you know
Well the police found out you went missing.
They checked the bar cameras and saw I was the last to leave with you.
Thank god the angle didn’t show me putting those pills in your drink or I would’ve been screwed (nervous laugh)
Well anyway after that they came down and brought me in for questioning.
I thought I was done for but luckily I have this super awesome lawyer who totally saved my ass.
He said something like ‘you haven’t found a body so why are you accusing her of murder? Maybe the missing person just ran away again’
God he’s so smart. I forget his name though… was it jimmy..? Or gene maybe? I don’t know, I don’t care.
Oh sorry for getting side tracked! Anyway I was busy with that so I couldn’t visit you all the time.
But luckily they have left me alone for now so I should be good.
Which means I get to spend even more time with you?
Isn’t that great?
…
Hey are you still awake?
You were just spacing out? Ok that’s fine
Well it’s a little rude but.. Never mind
Anyway back to the anniversary.
I had this idea for what I wanted to do but I’m actually super excited about it.
So ive decided that I’m just going to do it now.
You see, darling, I’ve become really attached to you.
You honestly make my life more fun and I don’t want to lose you.
So I want to make sure that everyone knows that you’re mine.
And so I’ve decided that I’m going to… mark you.
What do I mean?
Well I’ve decide to make sure that everyone knows that you belong to me, I’ll carve my name into your arm.
(Pulls out knife)
(laugh) Don’t scream darling. You know that won’t do you any good.
Don’t worry it won’t hurt you… too much, you’ll be fine.
(Sadistic tone)
You know ever since the day I met you I wanted to know what your insides look like.
But of course I couldn’t do that without killing you so this is the next best thing.
You’re gonna look so pretty with my name carved into you~
I’d give you a gag, or something to bite down on to ease the pain but…
I want to hear you scream.
You know that I love it when you scream~
God this going to be amazing.
(Normal voice)
But considering how absent I’ve been these last few days…
And how good you have been behaving; I’ll let you decide where I carve my name.
Aww you’re so cute when you beg!
I’m sorry darling but it has to be done. I can’t just not do it. I’ve been looking forward to this all day
And I can’t have other girls taking you away from me, can I?
This way everybody knows that you will belong to me. And me alone.
…
So have you decided where I put it?
Your arm? Ok if you’re sure.
(knife noise again)
Hey! Hold still! If you keep moving I’ll mess it up.
I don’t want to hit and artery.
(Knife noises)
Almost done. Don’t worry.
Aaaaaand…
Finished!
Oh my god it looks perfect!
(giggle) today is the best day ever!
Yep now (custom name) will be carved into your arm forever.
God I’m just so… happy!
It turned out so well.
And you did such a good job of staying still.
Mmm… all that blood on your arm. Its looks so pretty.
I bet it would taste great…
No! Control yourself (insert name)!
Here, ill wipe it off with some tissue.
There we go. All better.
Honestly I can’t get over how nice you look now!
You’re now officially mine. Isn’t that wonderful.
You’re arm is now… wait… what?
Are those… cuts on your wrists?
Why would you... oh sorry I forgot about your whole situation and i…
Listen. Don’t do stupid stuff like that ok?
I don’t care if you hurt yourself before you got here but now that you’re here I can’t have you doing that.
If I were to lose you well… I don’t know what I would do.
I don’t want to think about that right now.
Hey are you crying?
Hey don’t cry it’s ok... I’m… I’m here.
There, let it all out. Shhh… shhh.. you’re gonna be ok
If you ever need to talk about stuff just know that I’m here. Ok?
I’ll keep you safe here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.
…
Hey how about you think about this instead?
If you didn’t stay come with me that night than I probably would’ve taken more people by now (nervous laugh)
So in a way, just you being here is saving people.
What did you say?
I saved you? I did?
That night at the bar was meant to be your final day?
Well then I guess we saved each other, huh?
I’m glad you’re here with me darling.
I love you. And I’m not ever gonna let you go. Not for a moment.
…
Hmmm. That arm is still bleeding pretty badly.
Here’s what I’ll do, I’ll quickly run upstairs and grab so bandages so it doesn’t get infected.
I’ll be right back ok?
(Footsteps)
(Giggle) don’t go anywhere~
(Footsteps)
(Door closing)

Hello. I (26M) am in an almost six year long relationship with my fiancée (26F). I have a fetish for women that wear watches. It has been a thing that I have been into for as long as I can possibly remember. It is literally as simple as if a woman wears a watch, it initiates and helps build me up to sex, and helps me finish in bed. My fiancée is vanilla.
About six months into our relationship, I had brought up that this is a fetish of mine, and she initially found it fun and was more than happy to oblige. I have always been very clear about how my fetish works and what builds momentum up to sex. Over the years, I had bought her a few nice watches. It was a lot of fun going out on a date dressed up, seeing her looking so sexy with it on, and then coming home and having some amazing sex. I had been okay with her not always wearing one in bed, but as I become more sexually experienced (I hadn’t had much sex before we were in our relationship), I have discovered that this is something I need more than not, which I have made very clear.
Over time however, I had noticed that she has been becoming more self-conscious about it and wearing them less and less often. Eventually, by around the 3 year mark, had gotten to the point where she would never wear them at all unless I had expressed the intention that I wanted to have sex that night. Throughout our relationship, I had continuously reiterated that there is never any pressure, and that it she was uncomfortable with it, that she didn’t have to do it, but she always said that it was ok. We have tried various things, including her wearing watches that she picked out/tried on herself to feel comfortable about it. We have discussed initiation on her end as well, she likes when I initiate as well but when I do that, she usually won’t put on a watch to help me get there. She also definitely has a lower libido so it can be frustrating if I initiate and there is just full-on rejection.
Over the past couple of years, I had gradually started to get the feeling that this was becoming more of a chore for her than anything, and one that she increasingly does not like. Subsequently, we are having less and less sex, as I view her wearing a watch as a method of initiation to build momentum. I have to express now that I am interested in having sex before any level of initiation happens, if any. There would be times where she wouldn’t wear it in bed and I could not maintain an erection, I would ask her to wear it, and she would get frustrated. I have always been a user of porn to tame my libido but I am using it increasingly frequently due to the decreased sex. This is spiralling into a pornography addiction that is also being fuelled by other stress factors in my life. She knows I watch porn, is okay with it (as she does as well) and I only watch porn when she is not around, but does not know the scale of addiction.
Just this weekend, we had a big fight about it because we had been building up to a sexy cottage weekend and she just straight up told me that she didn’t want to wear a watch. After much emotionally-charged discussion, over time, she has developed the opinion that she believes she is not enough for me on her own and views it as “me not being attracted to her unless she is wearing it” and being “attracted to watches but not me”. This is compounded by self image issues that she is struggling with, and has struggled with her whole life. After much discussion, we have reached an impasse and it looks like this is going to drive a wedge in our relationship.
When I could start to tell that she was getting frustrated by my fetish, when we were talking about things, there was always this sentiment from her that I should figure out a way to get rid of my fetish. I have looked into it, I don’t even know if this is possible, but it is clearly causing a massive strain on my relationship so it has to be an option. I don’t really know what to do here. I am planning to start therapy to try and tackle the pornography addiction, but I don’t know if that’s going to help me with my fetish situation at all.
I’m not a perfect communicator, but when it comes to this fetish, I have always made it clear to her that there is no pressure if she doesn’t want to do it. I have always made it clear to her that it’s not just the watch, it’s the person first and foremost that I am attracted to, the watch is just what gets me there. I have always made it clear that I love her more than anything. Now it just doesn’t matter. She clearly isn’t comfortable with this anymore, and I don’t know what to do.