Hanging wreath on glass storm door
Does he want sex?
2023.05.28 08:23 10throwawayantsy Does he want sex?
I've been friends with him for 5+ years now. We initially met and were initially romantically interested and exchanges nudes, but I kind of called it off and wanted to keep him around as a friend.
We had a good friendship with each other and were always there for each other. I got drunk one time and he held my hand. I kind of went to him for advice and my love life was in shambles, which was probably annoying 4 him. He told me he would be in love with me "if I wasn't a train wreck" but at that time I was a horrific train wreck.
He then got a gf. His gf was extremely paranoid about me, which was weird, bc I wasn't even in the same geographical area as them. He complained about her, they then broke up. Then he complained about how much he missed her for a few years, would send her gifts for no reason, idk.
In this span of time, he has: Moved into the house next door to me, Tried to transfer to my college , Moved to my city, and then after I moved he moved 10 blocks away from me (It's a compact city, it's not as weird as it seems).
I have a bf but he tried to take a solo vacation with me. He tells me about his sexual adventures with other people and talks to me constantly. I never have to reach out to him first, bc he is always reaching out. He says I'm the most interesting person he's ever met, which ig isnt that weird because we've been friends for a rly long time now. He is very quick to introduce me to his friends and bring me on trips with his friends (For a lot of our friendship we weren't in the same area)
He's not really doing anything wrong, I feel comfortable with him. He pays for my snacks and makes sure I get home ok when we hang out. My house had mice so he said I could sleep in his extra bed and that we could have a "sleepover."
Recently he asked me why I'm not getting married to my boyfriend. I explained it was for financial reasons, and then said he really wants to find a wife and that his Arabic family would happily fund it.
I love my boyfriend but feel neglected very easily. I overall require a lot of attention and am difficult to maintain, so sometimes I do feel a little bit of something for my friend, but it usually goes away once I talk to my boyfriend more. Idk what to do.
submitted by 10throwawayantsy to TooAfraidToAsk [link] [comments]
We had a good friendship with each other and were always there for each other. I got drunk one time and he held my hand. I kind of went to him for advice and my love life was in shambles, which was probably annoying 4 him. He told me he would be in love with me "if I wasn't a train wreck" but at that time I was a horrific train wreck.
He then got a gf. His gf was extremely paranoid about me, which was weird, bc I wasn't even in the same geographical area as them. He complained about her, they then broke up. Then he complained about how much he missed her for a few years, would send her gifts for no reason, idk.
In this span of time, he has: Moved into the house next door to me, Tried to transfer to my college , Moved to my city, and then after I moved he moved 10 blocks away from me (It's a compact city, it's not as weird as it seems).
I have a bf but he tried to take a solo vacation with me. He tells me about his sexual adventures with other people and talks to me constantly. I never have to reach out to him first, bc he is always reaching out. He says I'm the most interesting person he's ever met, which ig isnt that weird because we've been friends for a rly long time now. He is very quick to introduce me to his friends and bring me on trips with his friends (For a lot of our friendship we weren't in the same area)
He's not really doing anything wrong, I feel comfortable with him. He pays for my snacks and makes sure I get home ok when we hang out. My house had mice so he said I could sleep in his extra bed and that we could have a "sleepover."
Recently he asked me why I'm not getting married to my boyfriend. I explained it was for financial reasons, and then said he really wants to find a wife and that his Arabic family would happily fund it.
I love my boyfriend but feel neglected very easily. I overall require a lot of attention and am difficult to maintain, so sometimes I do feel a little bit of something for my friend, but it usually goes away once I talk to my boyfriend more. Idk what to do.
2023.05.28 08:19 PinkJellyGirly The man that followed me home twice got what he deserved
So this happened back in 2020, during the summer. I was 18 at that time, working a summer job at a local beach bar. I had just gotten my driver's licence and my first car. That day I was working the night shift, I got to work at 6pm and got off around 2am. For reference, I live in a suburb that has a max of 10000 permanent residents. There are more people during the summer, as many people rent vacation properties because the beach is literally 5-10 minutes away on foot.
I got off work and on the drive back home, I felt kind of nauseous (I had eaten a chicken sandwich at work, maybe the chicken had gone bad), so I thought a soda would make me feel better. In my country, we have these small 'shops' (you can find them in every corner). It's more like a kiosk where you can buy refreshments, chips, ice cream etc. So because my city is a small suburb, there is only one of these kiosks that is oppen 24/7. I drive there and park my car directly in front of the kiosk with my hazard lights on, as I was only parking there for just one minute.
As I exit my car, I notice that right across the street there is a man sitting on the hood of his car, looking right at me. As soon as I saw the way he was looking at me, I knew he was looking for pray. He was around 45-47yrs old, short and chubby, with a bald spot on the top of his head. I ignore him, I grab a soda from the kiosk's fridge, I pay and I get back in my car. The moment he saw that I was heading back to my car, he got in the driver's seat in a rush and drove off. I knew something was fishy so I didn't take my eyes off that car. He thought he was being all smart and shit, because he drove a few meters ahead and he parked his car on the side of the road, in a spot that you wouldn't be able to see him unless you had witnessed him park, and he turned off his lights and engine.
I start my car and drive past him, acting as if I hadn't seen him. Just then, he starts up the car and follows me. He wasn't riding on my bumper, thinking that I wouldn't suspect anything if he kept a safe distance. Just because I was sure he was following me, I had already made a plan. I call 911 (not the number we use in my country, I live in Europe) and I tell the operator that I think a guy is following me and I need them on the line as I am about to make a few turns to confirm that he is following me. So I choose to go around the block, and get back to the same point, as that would mean that he was for sure following me, I mean why would someone go around the block just to get to the same spot they were before, if they know where they are going they wouldn't need to do that.
So as you can imagine, he turned every single time I turned and we now both are right where he started following me. That's when I look at my rearview mirron and spell the licence plate to the 911 operator. She wasn't even saying anything, so I tell her: '' Please stay on the line just in case anything happens, I'm gonna lead him right to the police station ''. The police station was straight ahead from where we were, so I shift gears and drive faster. He does too. The police station is not visible if you're driving and looking straight, you would have to turn your head to the left in order to spot it. So I slam the brakes right outside the police station, and I pull to the side. He pulls up from the left, his car is now right next to mine, I roll down my window and he rolls the window on the passenger's side. Before he was able to say anything, I point with my finger and I show him the police station. He turns his head and he sees it. There was a cop guarding the outside door. I tell him: 'See where I brought you? You wanna follow me you pervert, let's go to the cops right now.' I hadn't even finished my sentence and the guy sped off so fast he didn't even roll up his window.
I hang up the phone to the police and I watch his car turn left and dissapear. I stay there for a few minutes, just to make sure he's gone gone, and I drive to my house, which is also straight ahead, just two streets above the police station. I get in my house, but I first check my surroundings, because I was paranoid, thinking he was hiding in a bush or smth. I wake my mom up and tell her all about it. She asked me for the number of his licence plate was but I had already forgotten it.
A month goes by, and I was again coming back home from the night shift. This time I hadn't eaten anything at work and I was very hungry, so I stop at that kiosk again to buy some chips. FYI, there isn't any other place to buy food at that time, no restaurant in my city is open 24/7. I look around and check if the man was there, since I suffered from ptsd because of my last experience in this kiosk. I buy the chips and as I am paying I hear a car pulling up across the street. Sure enough, there he was, coming out of the car and sitting on the hood, as if he was reenacting our first encounter.
He starts staring at me again. It felt as if he didn't remembed what had happened the last time. So I was like, no, this time, I'm calling the cops on you. I get in my car, and of course he rushes to get in his. I call 911 an I explain that the situation. I tell the operator that this is the SAME man that did this to me a month ago. She told me to wait there and that she would send a few officers over, but that it might take some time until they get here. So I thought, since this guy is now making me lose sleep, I might as well have some fun. Also, note that he seemed a little bit retarded. As if he had some kind of mental issue.
So for the next 40 minutes, he would copy my every move. I got out of the car, he got out of the car. I got back in, he got back in. I started the engine, he started the engine. I turned on the lights, he turned on the lights. This little game was going on for the whole 40 minutes. A few times, I tricked him into thinking that I would actually drive off, so he drove a few meters, checked if I was coming, and then did a U turn and came back. After these long 40 minutes, 4 officers on bikes arrrive at the scene. I immediately point at him and say: 'That's the guy'. He was sitting at the hood of his car so he couldn't just drive off this time.
The two policemen start asking him questions, and the other two ask me for my ID and my version of events. After I explained everything to them, they do a quick search of his car and they find some rope in his trunk. That didn't proove anything though. At some point, this guy started walking up to me, yelling at me, saying: ' I don' t know you miss, when did I ever cause you any trouble, I've never seen you before, I didn't do anything to you! '. The policemen stopped him right away. I was infuriated so I replied and said: ' Yeah right act as if you don't know me you piece of shit, you followed me home a month ago, don't you remember? '. He insisted, telling the police officers that he hadn't done anthing and that he had no idea who I was or what I was talking about.
After the police officers collected all of the information they needed, they pulled me aside (one of them was watching him) and they informed me about my options. Me, being naive and not knowing many things about the law, I listened to the police officers, who basically told me that there was no point in pressing charges. He hadn't taken any action. He hadn't physically hurt me. So taking him to court is basically pointless. That's what they said.
They told him to get in his car and leave. They asked me if I needed anything and I hesitated but I eventually asked them if they could escort me to my home because I wasn't feeling safe after that.
A year goes by. It's 2021. It is around that same time that guy had followed me home the year before. I am sitting in the living room with my mom, watching the news. And this title appears on screen: 48 yr old man tried to abduct a 13 yr old girl riding the bike to her home in _____(the name of my city). They show a blurred picture of him on the news. I immediately knew it was him. There were no public pictures of the guy yet. I tell my mom: 'It's the guy that followed me home, I'm sure it's him'. I sit and watch the whole coverage on the case. It happened in broad day light. They found sleeping pills in his car. He was calling her beautiful and he was following her with his car as she was riding her bike back home. He asked her if she needed a ride and when she declined the offer, he started shouting at her and demanding that she gets in his car now. The girl escaped and went straight to her parents and they called the police.
I immediately got dressed and went to the police station to give my statement. I sat there three hours, recalling every moment from those two times he tried to follow me. There were phone call records where I was saying the licence plate. There were police records from the time I called the police on him. At the end, they showed me a picture of him and I confirmed that I recognised him.
After the trial, he was sentenced to 6 months in prison and 6 months house arrest. Do I think that's enough? Absolutely not. But at least I know that I did everything in my power so that he would get locked up. I know I could have pressed charges but honestly the officers made me think there was no point in doing that. Also, I had just finished school, it's not that I am all wise now but life has taught me a few lessons since then.
submitted by PinkJellyGirly to u/PinkJellyGirly [link] [comments]
I got off work and on the drive back home, I felt kind of nauseous (I had eaten a chicken sandwich at work, maybe the chicken had gone bad), so I thought a soda would make me feel better. In my country, we have these small 'shops' (you can find them in every corner). It's more like a kiosk where you can buy refreshments, chips, ice cream etc. So because my city is a small suburb, there is only one of these kiosks that is oppen 24/7. I drive there and park my car directly in front of the kiosk with my hazard lights on, as I was only parking there for just one minute.
As I exit my car, I notice that right across the street there is a man sitting on the hood of his car, looking right at me. As soon as I saw the way he was looking at me, I knew he was looking for pray. He was around 45-47yrs old, short and chubby, with a bald spot on the top of his head. I ignore him, I grab a soda from the kiosk's fridge, I pay and I get back in my car. The moment he saw that I was heading back to my car, he got in the driver's seat in a rush and drove off. I knew something was fishy so I didn't take my eyes off that car. He thought he was being all smart and shit, because he drove a few meters ahead and he parked his car on the side of the road, in a spot that you wouldn't be able to see him unless you had witnessed him park, and he turned off his lights and engine.
I start my car and drive past him, acting as if I hadn't seen him. Just then, he starts up the car and follows me. He wasn't riding on my bumper, thinking that I wouldn't suspect anything if he kept a safe distance. Just because I was sure he was following me, I had already made a plan. I call 911 (not the number we use in my country, I live in Europe) and I tell the operator that I think a guy is following me and I need them on the line as I am about to make a few turns to confirm that he is following me. So I choose to go around the block, and get back to the same point, as that would mean that he was for sure following me, I mean why would someone go around the block just to get to the same spot they were before, if they know where they are going they wouldn't need to do that.
So as you can imagine, he turned every single time I turned and we now both are right where he started following me. That's when I look at my rearview mirron and spell the licence plate to the 911 operator. She wasn't even saying anything, so I tell her: '' Please stay on the line just in case anything happens, I'm gonna lead him right to the police station ''. The police station was straight ahead from where we were, so I shift gears and drive faster. He does too. The police station is not visible if you're driving and looking straight, you would have to turn your head to the left in order to spot it. So I slam the brakes right outside the police station, and I pull to the side. He pulls up from the left, his car is now right next to mine, I roll down my window and he rolls the window on the passenger's side. Before he was able to say anything, I point with my finger and I show him the police station. He turns his head and he sees it. There was a cop guarding the outside door. I tell him: 'See where I brought you? You wanna follow me you pervert, let's go to the cops right now.' I hadn't even finished my sentence and the guy sped off so fast he didn't even roll up his window.
I hang up the phone to the police and I watch his car turn left and dissapear. I stay there for a few minutes, just to make sure he's gone gone, and I drive to my house, which is also straight ahead, just two streets above the police station. I get in my house, but I first check my surroundings, because I was paranoid, thinking he was hiding in a bush or smth. I wake my mom up and tell her all about it. She asked me for the number of his licence plate was but I had already forgotten it.
A month goes by, and I was again coming back home from the night shift. This time I hadn't eaten anything at work and I was very hungry, so I stop at that kiosk again to buy some chips. FYI, there isn't any other place to buy food at that time, no restaurant in my city is open 24/7. I look around and check if the man was there, since I suffered from ptsd because of my last experience in this kiosk. I buy the chips and as I am paying I hear a car pulling up across the street. Sure enough, there he was, coming out of the car and sitting on the hood, as if he was reenacting our first encounter.
He starts staring at me again. It felt as if he didn't remembed what had happened the last time. So I was like, no, this time, I'm calling the cops on you. I get in my car, and of course he rushes to get in his. I call 911 an I explain that the situation. I tell the operator that this is the SAME man that did this to me a month ago. She told me to wait there and that she would send a few officers over, but that it might take some time until they get here. So I thought, since this guy is now making me lose sleep, I might as well have some fun. Also, note that he seemed a little bit retarded. As if he had some kind of mental issue.
So for the next 40 minutes, he would copy my every move. I got out of the car, he got out of the car. I got back in, he got back in. I started the engine, he started the engine. I turned on the lights, he turned on the lights. This little game was going on for the whole 40 minutes. A few times, I tricked him into thinking that I would actually drive off, so he drove a few meters, checked if I was coming, and then did a U turn and came back. After these long 40 minutes, 4 officers on bikes arrrive at the scene. I immediately point at him and say: 'That's the guy'. He was sitting at the hood of his car so he couldn't just drive off this time.
The two policemen start asking him questions, and the other two ask me for my ID and my version of events. After I explained everything to them, they do a quick search of his car and they find some rope in his trunk. That didn't proove anything though. At some point, this guy started walking up to me, yelling at me, saying: ' I don' t know you miss, when did I ever cause you any trouble, I've never seen you before, I didn't do anything to you! '. The policemen stopped him right away. I was infuriated so I replied and said: ' Yeah right act as if you don't know me you piece of shit, you followed me home a month ago, don't you remember? '. He insisted, telling the police officers that he hadn't done anthing and that he had no idea who I was or what I was talking about.
After the police officers collected all of the information they needed, they pulled me aside (one of them was watching him) and they informed me about my options. Me, being naive and not knowing many things about the law, I listened to the police officers, who basically told me that there was no point in pressing charges. He hadn't taken any action. He hadn't physically hurt me. So taking him to court is basically pointless. That's what they said.
They told him to get in his car and leave. They asked me if I needed anything and I hesitated but I eventually asked them if they could escort me to my home because I wasn't feeling safe after that.
A year goes by. It's 2021. It is around that same time that guy had followed me home the year before. I am sitting in the living room with my mom, watching the news. And this title appears on screen: 48 yr old man tried to abduct a 13 yr old girl riding the bike to her home in _____(the name of my city). They show a blurred picture of him on the news. I immediately knew it was him. There were no public pictures of the guy yet. I tell my mom: 'It's the guy that followed me home, I'm sure it's him'. I sit and watch the whole coverage on the case. It happened in broad day light. They found sleeping pills in his car. He was calling her beautiful and he was following her with his car as she was riding her bike back home. He asked her if she needed a ride and when she declined the offer, he started shouting at her and demanding that she gets in his car now. The girl escaped and went straight to her parents and they called the police.
I immediately got dressed and went to the police station to give my statement. I sat there three hours, recalling every moment from those two times he tried to follow me. There were phone call records where I was saying the licence plate. There were police records from the time I called the police on him. At the end, they showed me a picture of him and I confirmed that I recognised him.
After the trial, he was sentenced to 6 months in prison and 6 months house arrest. Do I think that's enough? Absolutely not. But at least I know that I did everything in my power so that he would get locked up. I know I could have pressed charges but honestly the officers made me think there was no point in doing that. Also, I had just finished school, it's not that I am all wise now but life has taught me a few lessons since then.
2023.05.28 08:18 10throwawayantsy Does he want sex?
My friend is 26M, Im 23f.
I've been friends with him for 5+ years now. We initially met and were initially romantically interested and exchanges nudes, but I kind of called it off and wanted to keep him around as a friend.
We had a good friendship with each other and were always there for each other. I got drunk one time and he held my hand. I kind of went to him for advice and my love life was in shambles, which was probably annoying 4 him. He told me he would be in love with me "if I wasn't a train wreck" but at that time I was a horrific train wreck.
He then got a gf. His gf was extremely paranoid about me, which was weird, bc I wasn't even in the same geographical area as them. He complained about her, they then broke up. Then he complained about how much he missed her for a few years, would send her gifts for no reason, idk.
In this span of time, he has: Moved into the house next door to me, Tried to transfer to my college , Moved to my city, and then after I moved he moved 10 blocks away from me (It's a compact city, it's not as weird as it seems).
I have a bf but he tried to take a solo vacation with me. He tells me about his sexual adventures with other people and talks to me constantly. I never have to reach out to him first, bc he is always reaching out. He says I'm the most interesting person he's ever met, which ig isnt that weird because we've been friends for a rly long time now. He is very quick to introduce me to his friends and bring me on trips with his friends (For a lot of our friendship we weren't in the same area)
He's not really doing anything wrong, I feel comfortable with him. He pays for my snacks and makes sure I get home ok when we hang out. My house had mice so he said I could sleep in his extra bed and that we could have a "sleepover."
Recently he asked me why I'm not getting married to my boyfriend. I explained it was for financial reasons, and then said he really wants to find a wife and that his Arabic family would happily fund it.
I love my boyfriend but feel neglected very easily. I overall require a lot of attention and am difficult to maintain, so sometimes I do feel a little bit of something for my friend, but it usually goes away once I talk to my boyfriend more. Idk what to do.
submitted by 10throwawayantsy to sex [link] [comments]
I've been friends with him for 5+ years now. We initially met and were initially romantically interested and exchanges nudes, but I kind of called it off and wanted to keep him around as a friend.
We had a good friendship with each other and were always there for each other. I got drunk one time and he held my hand. I kind of went to him for advice and my love life was in shambles, which was probably annoying 4 him. He told me he would be in love with me "if I wasn't a train wreck" but at that time I was a horrific train wreck.
He then got a gf. His gf was extremely paranoid about me, which was weird, bc I wasn't even in the same geographical area as them. He complained about her, they then broke up. Then he complained about how much he missed her for a few years, would send her gifts for no reason, idk.
In this span of time, he has: Moved into the house next door to me, Tried to transfer to my college , Moved to my city, and then after I moved he moved 10 blocks away from me (It's a compact city, it's not as weird as it seems).
I have a bf but he tried to take a solo vacation with me. He tells me about his sexual adventures with other people and talks to me constantly. I never have to reach out to him first, bc he is always reaching out. He says I'm the most interesting person he's ever met, which ig isnt that weird because we've been friends for a rly long time now. He is very quick to introduce me to his friends and bring me on trips with his friends (For a lot of our friendship we weren't in the same area)
He's not really doing anything wrong, I feel comfortable with him. He pays for my snacks and makes sure I get home ok when we hang out. My house had mice so he said I could sleep in his extra bed and that we could have a "sleepover."
Recently he asked me why I'm not getting married to my boyfriend. I explained it was for financial reasons, and then said he really wants to find a wife and that his Arabic family would happily fund it.
I love my boyfriend but feel neglected very easily. I overall require a lot of attention and am difficult to maintain, so sometimes I do feel a little bit of something for my friend, but it usually goes away once I talk to my boyfriend more. Idk what to do.
2023.05.28 08:05 TheIllusionarySystem I feel like my trauma wasn't enough
I'll probably take this post down after a few days because it's really personal to me (us?), I just want some reassurance I guess
TRIGGER WARNING: SA and sexual talk (?), grooming, incest (?), suicide, self-harm etc
I'll never feel like my trauma was enough to cause this... I don't remember most of my life. anything before the ages of 12-13 is a blur and I have only some flashes or information of our traumas or random memories...
we had some stuff going on in our early childhood I didn't consider trauma because I kept forgetting about it
— constant fights with our sister, physical specifically
— our parents being absent most of the time because of work and also because they were on the verge of divorce, so dad would be absent because he moved away for some time
— hearing my parents doing sexual activities and even seeing it a few times
— possible SA. one from my sister when I was really young. I don't have any memories of it but only a faint memory of her saying she did that. I can't tell if it's real though. the other only a flash of the position I was in and saying it hurts and crying. i dont know who it might've been from. I remembered this during summer on a bus ride but I have heavy doubt it was SA
— isolation
— specific memory of my dad spanking me (it was only one hit though) while he was drunk that I think might've been a dream instead
— exposure to sexual stuff which lead to hypersexuality now
I don't remember anything else. we did act like we were traumatised, as I remember we had really bad anxiety even then and were scared of making mistakes, scared of being punished, scared of our mum, etc. I think it might've been because my sister was the one to get punished for misbehaving so I knew what not to do and tried to be a good kid. we were also a very sensitive child because of autism
and then after we moved away, when I was like 8 years old — a distant family member I'll be calling (unnamed). he would often disrespect my privacy and come into my house without being invited and without knocking, would lay in my bed with me when I was wearing a sleeping lingerie, would slap my ass, use me for homework and when I didn't want to do it he'd throw a fit and make me feel bad. would wait for me while I was showering, almost kissed me. he'd also hide my important belongings and then cry when I told him not to do it. comment on my weight...
—> I remember two specific memories from that. one where he got really mad at me and starting throwing my things out on the street and then locked himself in my house. I don't remember what happened then and I don't remember why he got mad. the other one was during summer when at the time my best friend (we'll call her (redacted)) and I were at my place. we didn't want him around because we didn't like him and he kept hiding our stuff so we kicked him out and locked ourselves in. he started kicking at the door until my dad came home and made him leave, while I was panicking and crying and my (redacted) called my mum
my parents didn't do anything. they didn't know the amount of stuff that happened and only knew a bit like the homework part and the last part
— I was really isolated and had only one friend (redacted). noone in my class really liked me but they didn't bully me. they'd like my art but wouldn't really talk to me or would ignore me
— (redacted) and I were very close friends of up to 6-7 years until she started ghosting me which completely ruined everything we built. there's only a few things I remember that could've been "traumatising"
—> exposing me to inappropriate content, I remember we watched a girl commit suicide on a video for some reason. a memory of her wanting us to "connect" through blood via ritual. at the time we both struggled with depression and self harm, but whenever I'd be the one to do it she'd yell at me and only make me feel like I shouldn't have told her or like I deserved it
I don't remember much unfortunately. she started to ghost me and gave me empty promises on hanging out or catching up, we never did. she doesn't look at me anymore when we see each other on the bus or tram, or on street
— at the time of (unnamed) and (redacted) I was also on amino and you already know where that goes. I roleplayed a lot of nsfw and had to save a lot of people from suicide or bare with their struggles. there was a specific drama in one amino that stuck to me because it completely ruined my sleeping schedule, worsened my depression and anxiety, made me s/h in the first place, etc
all that was from ages 8-11 I think..(redacted) and I stopped being friends a year or two later because of her ghosting
and then from 11 to 13 years old: — we met someone from the drama above again but with a different identity because we wanted a new start. we would role-play but soon it would turn into having some romantic feelings towards them and them towards me
—> tldr, they ended up cheating on their partner with me even if I told them I didn't want to do it, emotionally manipulated me and others, would lash out at me whenever I got jealous/upset but god forbid they were the one jealous. talk to me sexually despite them being 3 years older than me while I was 12, hurt MANY other people during it as well. forced their ex to send them nudes, drew nsfw of their partners who were minors, etc
ofc there's a lot more to it but that's just the basics
then the most recent a SA and other stuff from my ex, an important group in my life falling apart, drama with an ex friend, drama with the current class group
writing this down makes me realise how none of this was really normal, but I still don't know if it would qualify as enough trauma, especially because I don't remember everything and because I don't remember if we dissociated early in our childhood. what I know is we dissociated somewhere from age 8 up til now, not sure about before..it makes me question a lot wether or not we're actually a system
submitted by TheIllusionarySystem to OSDD [link] [comments]
TRIGGER WARNING: SA and sexual talk (?), grooming, incest (?), suicide, self-harm etc
I'll never feel like my trauma was enough to cause this... I don't remember most of my life. anything before the ages of 12-13 is a blur and I have only some flashes or information of our traumas or random memories...
we had some stuff going on in our early childhood I didn't consider trauma because I kept forgetting about it
— constant fights with our sister, physical specifically
— our parents being absent most of the time because of work and also because they were on the verge of divorce, so dad would be absent because he moved away for some time
— hearing my parents doing sexual activities and even seeing it a few times
— possible SA. one from my sister when I was really young. I don't have any memories of it but only a faint memory of her saying she did that. I can't tell if it's real though. the other only a flash of the position I was in and saying it hurts and crying. i dont know who it might've been from. I remembered this during summer on a bus ride but I have heavy doubt it was SA
— isolation
— specific memory of my dad spanking me (it was only one hit though) while he was drunk that I think might've been a dream instead
— exposure to sexual stuff which lead to hypersexuality now
I don't remember anything else. we did act like we were traumatised, as I remember we had really bad anxiety even then and were scared of making mistakes, scared of being punished, scared of our mum, etc. I think it might've been because my sister was the one to get punished for misbehaving so I knew what not to do and tried to be a good kid. we were also a very sensitive child because of autism
and then after we moved away, when I was like 8 years old — a distant family member I'll be calling (unnamed). he would often disrespect my privacy and come into my house without being invited and without knocking, would lay in my bed with me when I was wearing a sleeping lingerie, would slap my ass, use me for homework and when I didn't want to do it he'd throw a fit and make me feel bad. would wait for me while I was showering, almost kissed me. he'd also hide my important belongings and then cry when I told him not to do it. comment on my weight...
—> I remember two specific memories from that. one where he got really mad at me and starting throwing my things out on the street and then locked himself in my house. I don't remember what happened then and I don't remember why he got mad. the other one was during summer when at the time my best friend (we'll call her (redacted)) and I were at my place. we didn't want him around because we didn't like him and he kept hiding our stuff so we kicked him out and locked ourselves in. he started kicking at the door until my dad came home and made him leave, while I was panicking and crying and my (redacted) called my mum
my parents didn't do anything. they didn't know the amount of stuff that happened and only knew a bit like the homework part and the last part
— I was really isolated and had only one friend (redacted). noone in my class really liked me but they didn't bully me. they'd like my art but wouldn't really talk to me or would ignore me
— (redacted) and I were very close friends of up to 6-7 years until she started ghosting me which completely ruined everything we built. there's only a few things I remember that could've been "traumatising"
—> exposing me to inappropriate content, I remember we watched a girl commit suicide on a video for some reason. a memory of her wanting us to "connect" through blood via ritual. at the time we both struggled with depression and self harm, but whenever I'd be the one to do it she'd yell at me and only make me feel like I shouldn't have told her or like I deserved it
I don't remember much unfortunately. she started to ghost me and gave me empty promises on hanging out or catching up, we never did. she doesn't look at me anymore when we see each other on the bus or tram, or on street
— at the time of (unnamed) and (redacted) I was also on amino and you already know where that goes. I roleplayed a lot of nsfw and had to save a lot of people from suicide or bare with their struggles. there was a specific drama in one amino that stuck to me because it completely ruined my sleeping schedule, worsened my depression and anxiety, made me s/h in the first place, etc
all that was from ages 8-11 I think..(redacted) and I stopped being friends a year or two later because of her ghosting
and then from 11 to 13 years old: — we met someone from the drama above again but with a different identity because we wanted a new start. we would role-play but soon it would turn into having some romantic feelings towards them and them towards me
—> tldr, they ended up cheating on their partner with me even if I told them I didn't want to do it, emotionally manipulated me and others, would lash out at me whenever I got jealous/upset but god forbid they were the one jealous. talk to me sexually despite them being 3 years older than me while I was 12, hurt MANY other people during it as well. forced their ex to send them nudes, drew nsfw of their partners who were minors, etc
ofc there's a lot more to it but that's just the basics
then the most recent a SA and other stuff from my ex, an important group in my life falling apart, drama with an ex friend, drama with the current class group
writing this down makes me realise how none of this was really normal, but I still don't know if it would qualify as enough trauma, especially because I don't remember everything and because I don't remember if we dissociated early in our childhood. what I know is we dissociated somewhere from age 8 up til now, not sure about before..it makes me question a lot wether or not we're actually a system
2023.05.28 08:04 Quandale_Dingle274 Doppleganger
A few weeks ago I was watching a horror movie in the living room, I was home alone and it was almost 2 am so it made it even scarier. About half way through the movie I heard some scuffling and leaves rustling outside my window, I brushed it off because I knew we had some raccoons in the backyard. About 20 minutes before the end I paused the movie to refill my popcorn bucket and refilled my drink. I looked over out the window and saw a shadow with long hair and a nightie, I turned on the outside light to see who it was and it was me, except they were extremely pale and eyes blacked out, and they had a giant chefs knife covered in blood, I moved my arm up to do a sort of scared wave to see if they would respond, they didn’t just respond, they waved their arm up exactly as I did, I did a few more movements with my arm to see if they would still copy me, and they did. I soon realized if they copied my movements, I must of made them kill someone or something with that knife for it to be covered in blood, I moved my left arm and they moved their arm with the knife in their hand. I drove my hand closer to my throat and the knife slowly glided through its throat. I fell to the floor and passes out, I woke up in the hospital with a thick layer of bandages on my neck, the doctor came in an asked if I tried to kill myself, “no” I replied, a another doctor came in and asked me if was any substances, “no”. After a few weeks of recovering I went back home and stood in the place I found the doppleganger I looked closer and I found them again, I walked closer to them until I reached the glass window separating me from the outside, I looked again and found a human sized mirror, than I remembered i replaced my bedroom wardrobe door. I shook in fear as I realized there wasn’t a doppleganger, I-it was me the whole time
submitted by Quandale_Dingle274 to horrorstories [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 07:54 mmillington Actress in the House Group Read, Week 2: Chapters 1-4
Sorry it’s a little long.
Chapter 1
We begin with the slap. Bill Daley and his (girl?)friend Helen attend “a halfway mediocre” play during which a male character viciously strikes a female character, drawing (real?) blood. Daley spends much of the chapter interpreting and analyzing the responses of the other members of the audience and dissecting the blonde actress Becca Lang’s and the male actor’s motivations and responses. Much of his analysis focuses on who is or has experienced physical abuse/violence, as well as assessing threat levels. We see Daley express frustration with members of the audience for interrupting his analysis.
We learn a little about Helen: She travels frequently for work, she and Daley often attend plays together, and Daley sees her as someone he could be with, “the whole package.”
At intermission, the cast of characters in the audience share their responses to the slap.
We find out Daley booked the tickets after receiving a phone call several days ago from the actress, Lang.
Chapter 2
This chapter is a flashback several days to the phone call. While sitting with Kid Knox, a drummer, Daley answers the phone, expecting it to be a call from one of his long-time legal clients Lotta, but it’s a woman who says, “It’s you.”
Daley, his interest piqued, talks with her for some time, being told he was recommended to the woman by a Mr. van Diamond to address a housing issue she’s facing. She’s an actress subletting a place, but she spends significant time abroad, raising questions over her “primary residence.” She mentions “threats” against her.
Daley repeatedly thinks she doing a “voice-job” on him. We get frequent references to acting, drama, playing roles, performances.
Daley, while they’re talking, tracks the behavior of pigeons and an “out-of-place” brown dove outside his window.
He tells her he’s not a real estate lawyer, but he gets sucked into finding out more about her case. She tells him her name and that she’s a stage actress. The conversation grows friendly, and they joke with each other. She tells him van Diamond called him a good listener, a giver, a fool. Daley thinks she has “a gift for toil.” She mentions Daley’s “employment agency.”
Becca tells him, “We’re of the same blood, you know?” She mentions van Diamond’s “vile cufflinks” and gets Daley to agree to a short meeting.
Donna, Daley’s secretary comes into his office to check on him, having overheard the conversation, especially the mention of “threats.”
He stops at the supermarket on the way home to get a paper and track down the play Becca is in. He talks with his next-door neighbor about the mugging of a young boy on the playground at night. When he gets home, he books two seats for Becca’s play.
Chapter 3
The play resumes, and we’re filled in on some of the plot and character dynamics. The play features periodic pauses for voice-overs of Becca reading letters her character sent to her brother in Connecticut during her time in Nepal. The had a close relationship until he got married to a “noisy” redheaded woman. Becca then joined the Peace Corps and left for Africa.
The brother has developed “noise-cancellation technology,” but he faces potential legal problems for “professional improprieties.” He’s also having an affair with his secretary, whom the sister (Becca) knows.
The brother summons Becca home from Nepal, where she’d had a “spiritual experience” and been involved with the son of a Sherpa. The redhaired wife, leveraging power over Becca, pulls out the letters Becca wrote to her brother, at which point Becca tells her of the affair. She then runs to her brother to let him know she outed him, at which point we get the slap.
Chapter 4
Flashback 12 years to an earthquake in Manhattan. Daley wakes up around 3 a.m. to a phone call from his client Lotta, asking if she can sue Connecticut—which she claims was the origin of the quake—over the damage to two figurines that fell during the tremor. He tells her there’s no case to be had.
At this time, Daley is married to Della, a dancer in the process of retiring, and she is out of bed (reading, he thinks, but later thinks she went for a run instead).
He calls his little brother Wolf in Seattle to ask a structural engineering question related to one of Daley’s clients. We learn about Wolf’s history of error-proneness/unluckiness. He was literally blown out of the water when a nearby ship exploded in a harbor in Osaka, Japan; he collided while riding a dirtbike with the contents hanging off a moving truck. Daley was on vacation in India with his wife at the time of the Osaka harbor explosion, and the trip was cut short so they could attend to Wolf in the hospital.
On the phone, Wolf invites Daley to join him as legal consultant on a trip to inspect a dam in Australia in a week.
Daley gets up to check the house. He sees their house guest, a European financier Della hopes will fund a business that helps creative people find day/night jobs, lying in bed with his eyes open a slit. Daley answers a second call from Lotta, during which he hears the front door, and his wife comes upstairs. He had been thinking about how she would smell. They talk for a while; she encourages him to go on the Australia trip. He thinks about the letters her received from Wolf’s associates during his many travels.
Della says she thinks Lotta has been abused. Her rationale is that Lotta is abusing Daley: “No, she’s over the line, she’s abusing you, why does she do that?”
The couple turns sexual, we see a scar that runs from Daley’s wrist to elbow. As the couple gets going, the house guest is standing in the doorway. Possible implications of an affair?
Absorb dominates the first chapter and appears in the other three, characters in the novel and in the play within absorb one another, absorb blows, are absorbed in their work
Chapter two builds on voices in terms of accents, playing characters, and being out-of-place (reflected in the dove outside the window.
Chapter three explores noisiness in the redhead, the brother’s “noise-cancelling technology,” the “noise” of industrial warehouses (a callback to Daley’s observation of the poor acoustics in the renovated warehouse in which they’re watching the play). I also see it as a reference to the noisy aspects of the character’s lives, the affair, messy relationships, professional indiscretions.
Chapter four focuses on premonitions, Daley’s “prophetic” gift. I first noticed this in chapter two. Having begun the book with the slap, we get a flashback in chapter two that makes multiple references to a “jolt.” I don’t know of a term for this technique. Post-facto foreshadowing? But in chapter four, dreams, memories, fears (of physical danger to people he knows), and hopes are blended in the narration, and we have a chapter set more than a decade in the past, but the text remains conscious of present.
McElroy’s prose feels smooth, even in the play chapters when he’s transitioning between the stage action, audience associations, and meta-commentary on the action and devices of the play.
We also see the beginnings of McElroy using intratextual intertextuality: Within the novel, we get interplay between the “real” people and the characters. Daley analyzes the relationship between Becca and the male actor through the performance on stage. We see multiple analogues: the secretaries both referred to as “girl Friday,” characters face legal trouble over professional improprieties, a sibling leaving with the married one staying at home, and I suspect more of the play’s plot elements will appear in the “real” character’s lives.
submitted by mmillington to JosephMcElroy [link] [comments]
Chapter 1
We begin with the slap. Bill Daley and his (girl?)friend Helen attend “a halfway mediocre” play during which a male character viciously strikes a female character, drawing (real?) blood. Daley spends much of the chapter interpreting and analyzing the responses of the other members of the audience and dissecting the blonde actress Becca Lang’s and the male actor’s motivations and responses. Much of his analysis focuses on who is or has experienced physical abuse/violence, as well as assessing threat levels. We see Daley express frustration with members of the audience for interrupting his analysis.
We learn a little about Helen: She travels frequently for work, she and Daley often attend plays together, and Daley sees her as someone he could be with, “the whole package.”
At intermission, the cast of characters in the audience share their responses to the slap.
We find out Daley booked the tickets after receiving a phone call several days ago from the actress, Lang.
Chapter 2
This chapter is a flashback several days to the phone call. While sitting with Kid Knox, a drummer, Daley answers the phone, expecting it to be a call from one of his long-time legal clients Lotta, but it’s a woman who says, “It’s you.”
Daley, his interest piqued, talks with her for some time, being told he was recommended to the woman by a Mr. van Diamond to address a housing issue she’s facing. She’s an actress subletting a place, but she spends significant time abroad, raising questions over her “primary residence.” She mentions “threats” against her.
Daley repeatedly thinks she doing a “voice-job” on him. We get frequent references to acting, drama, playing roles, performances.
Daley, while they’re talking, tracks the behavior of pigeons and an “out-of-place” brown dove outside his window.
He tells her he’s not a real estate lawyer, but he gets sucked into finding out more about her case. She tells him her name and that she’s a stage actress. The conversation grows friendly, and they joke with each other. She tells him van Diamond called him a good listener, a giver, a fool. Daley thinks she has “a gift for toil.” She mentions Daley’s “employment agency.”
Becca tells him, “We’re of the same blood, you know?” She mentions van Diamond’s “vile cufflinks” and gets Daley to agree to a short meeting.
Donna, Daley’s secretary comes into his office to check on him, having overheard the conversation, especially the mention of “threats.”
He stops at the supermarket on the way home to get a paper and track down the play Becca is in. He talks with his next-door neighbor about the mugging of a young boy on the playground at night. When he gets home, he books two seats for Becca’s play.
Chapter 3
The play resumes, and we’re filled in on some of the plot and character dynamics. The play features periodic pauses for voice-overs of Becca reading letters her character sent to her brother in Connecticut during her time in Nepal. The had a close relationship until he got married to a “noisy” redheaded woman. Becca then joined the Peace Corps and left for Africa.
The brother has developed “noise-cancellation technology,” but he faces potential legal problems for “professional improprieties.” He’s also having an affair with his secretary, whom the sister (Becca) knows.
The brother summons Becca home from Nepal, where she’d had a “spiritual experience” and been involved with the son of a Sherpa. The redhaired wife, leveraging power over Becca, pulls out the letters Becca wrote to her brother, at which point Becca tells her of the affair. She then runs to her brother to let him know she outed him, at which point we get the slap.
Chapter 4
Flashback 12 years to an earthquake in Manhattan. Daley wakes up around 3 a.m. to a phone call from his client Lotta, asking if she can sue Connecticut—which she claims was the origin of the quake—over the damage to two figurines that fell during the tremor. He tells her there’s no case to be had.
At this time, Daley is married to Della, a dancer in the process of retiring, and she is out of bed (reading, he thinks, but later thinks she went for a run instead).
He calls his little brother Wolf in Seattle to ask a structural engineering question related to one of Daley’s clients. We learn about Wolf’s history of error-proneness/unluckiness. He was literally blown out of the water when a nearby ship exploded in a harbor in Osaka, Japan; he collided while riding a dirtbike with the contents hanging off a moving truck. Daley was on vacation in India with his wife at the time of the Osaka harbor explosion, and the trip was cut short so they could attend to Wolf in the hospital.
On the phone, Wolf invites Daley to join him as legal consultant on a trip to inspect a dam in Australia in a week.
Daley gets up to check the house. He sees their house guest, a European financier Della hopes will fund a business that helps creative people find day/night jobs, lying in bed with his eyes open a slit. Daley answers a second call from Lotta, during which he hears the front door, and his wife comes upstairs. He had been thinking about how she would smell. They talk for a while; she encourages him to go on the Australia trip. He thinks about the letters her received from Wolf’s associates during his many travels.
Della says she thinks Lotta has been abused. Her rationale is that Lotta is abusing Daley: “No, she’s over the line, she’s abusing you, why does she do that?”
The couple turns sexual, we see a scar that runs from Daley’s wrist to elbow. As the couple gets going, the house guest is standing in the doorway. Possible implications of an affair?
Analysis
So far, we see McElroy establishing a number of key themes: acting/performance, house/housing, violence (slap, jolt, explosions), absorption. As in Hind’s Kidnap, McElroy plays on the multiple usages of many words:Absorb dominates the first chapter and appears in the other three, characters in the novel and in the play within absorb one another, absorb blows, are absorbed in their work
Chapter two builds on voices in terms of accents, playing characters, and being out-of-place (reflected in the dove outside the window.
Chapter three explores noisiness in the redhead, the brother’s “noise-cancelling technology,” the “noise” of industrial warehouses (a callback to Daley’s observation of the poor acoustics in the renovated warehouse in which they’re watching the play). I also see it as a reference to the noisy aspects of the character’s lives, the affair, messy relationships, professional indiscretions.
Chapter four focuses on premonitions, Daley’s “prophetic” gift. I first noticed this in chapter two. Having begun the book with the slap, we get a flashback in chapter two that makes multiple references to a “jolt.” I don’t know of a term for this technique. Post-facto foreshadowing? But in chapter four, dreams, memories, fears (of physical danger to people he knows), and hopes are blended in the narration, and we have a chapter set more than a decade in the past, but the text remains conscious of present.
McElroy’s prose feels smooth, even in the play chapters when he’s transitioning between the stage action, audience associations, and meta-commentary on the action and devices of the play.
We also see the beginnings of McElroy using intratextual intertextuality: Within the novel, we get interplay between the “real” people and the characters. Daley analyzes the relationship between Becca and the male actor through the performance on stage. We see multiple analogues: the secretaries both referred to as “girl Friday,” characters face legal trouble over professional improprieties, a sibling leaving with the married one staying at home, and I suspect more of the play’s plot elements will appear in the “real” character’s lives.
Questions
- Blood is mentioned multiple times. How do you see the interplay of violence drawing Becca’s character’s blood with the slap, the family ties, and Becca’s insistence she and Daley are “of the same blood”?
- How are you tracking McElroy’s persistent use of layered meanings?
- What do you make of the numerous points at which the narrative shifts to the second person?
2023.05.28 07:48 WarmHugs1206 “Meet Me At Mama’s Place”
This happened about two hours ago.
I live in a sleepy part of Metry very close to the parish line but near a major cut-through street that could have you out of the parish in maybe 1-2ish minutes depending how crazy you’re driving. To my delight - It is still very much a neighborhood - from the over priced real estate down the block to the multi-families where drugs are definitely being sold to the wonderfully nosey old ladies in their cottages.
My aunt lives next door to me, we are on a corner and she in the middle of the block between my front street and her other neighbor who faces the cut-through.
Aunt calls me and asks if my husband will go outside and check because someone is knocking on her door and she doesn’t know who it is. My first thought is no fucking way I’m sending him, I’m calling 911. She tells me to wait. I do. I’ve got a sleeping 3 yr old snuggled together with husband and if I wake one, I wake both. She offers no details besides that this person knocked and is now sitting on her porch. And is wearing a baseball cap. She lives alone. It’s not very well lit.
I tell her to hold on and I start putting my boots. I’m going check her front door from around the way. Before I get out my own door she says “oh my god he’s coming to my back door call 911” so I hang up and call 911. Lock my own back door which is a good few paces from hers and also very poorly lit. I’m panicking because - isn’t home invasion like everyone’s worst nightmare?
While on the phone with 911, I’m looking at my aunt’s house through my bathroom window. I can’t see the back door and momentarily I can see a guy in the shadows come from the back of my aunt’s house and begin to make his way to the aforementioned thoroughfare. I then see my neighbor on the other side of aunt’s house come out and start talking to the guy. From my window all I can see is the back of shadow guy walking away from my aunt’s house. Intervening neighbor has two small children inside.
My husband at my prompting gets up at this point and isn’t alarmed in the least. “It’s probably some drunk guy wandering into the wrong house.” There is a neighborhood bar nearby. Fair-ish enough although for the better part of a decade living here we have never had a drunk visitor.
We’re both watching the neighbor talk to the guy while I’m still on the line with 911. The shadow’s body language suggests harmlessness but that could also be drug-addled and reckless. Erratic?! Who can tell? The 911 dispatcher informs me that there are now units on the scene.
Like fucking stealth hawks in the night four JPSO squad cars pull up on either side of the block 2/2. No lights no sounds. They were there in five minutes flat.
Turns out by the time the officers got there my aunt figured out it was a friend of her son, early 20’s. My cousin had told said “burglar” friend via text to “meet me at mama’s place” and friend thought he meant his literal mother’s house. Friend is not drunk whatsoever. He’s a sweet guy who interpreted my cousin literally. He even arrived with a six pack of Andy gator. Cousin had apparently texted him “come through the back” - hence the walking to attempt to enter through the back porch.
As we stood in the street while the cops pulled away without fanfare we couldn’t help but laugh. All I could think was how relieved I was it wasn’t a bad guy. How ridiculous I felt for such a false alarm. And how fucking glad I was that if it had been bad that the police showed up. Holy fuck.
Now. There are many holes in the Swiss cheese that aligned to create a memorable situation for my aunt, my cousins’s friend, and me.
All I can tell you is this: at some point in the first conversation with my aunt, I was scared shitless. The next thing is that those squad cars showed up so fast I was astonished. The final thing I will tell you is that I don’t keep a gun in my home because I don’t know how to use one. I believe in them. So if you’re like me, reinforce your doors, or if you do responsibly own a gun, you know who you are. Don’t let the fright lead you. Key word is responsible.
The final, final is - thank you to JPSO. And to NOPD please know that effective policing is possible. What’s your problem? This is not a blame on individuals, it’s a blame on the organization. I used to live in a “safe” part of Orleans parish. I do not consider it as such now because criminal activity which did not exist there before some recent snap of fingers -??? I am extremely concerned about the individual NOPD officers and how degraded they are. Support our police. Public safety is a joint effort.
submitted by WarmHugs1206 to NewOrleans [link] [comments]
I live in a sleepy part of Metry very close to the parish line but near a major cut-through street that could have you out of the parish in maybe 1-2ish minutes depending how crazy you’re driving. To my delight - It is still very much a neighborhood - from the over priced real estate down the block to the multi-families where drugs are definitely being sold to the wonderfully nosey old ladies in their cottages.
My aunt lives next door to me, we are on a corner and she in the middle of the block between my front street and her other neighbor who faces the cut-through.
Aunt calls me and asks if my husband will go outside and check because someone is knocking on her door and she doesn’t know who it is. My first thought is no fucking way I’m sending him, I’m calling 911. She tells me to wait. I do. I’ve got a sleeping 3 yr old snuggled together with husband and if I wake one, I wake both. She offers no details besides that this person knocked and is now sitting on her porch. And is wearing a baseball cap. She lives alone. It’s not very well lit.
I tell her to hold on and I start putting my boots. I’m going check her front door from around the way. Before I get out my own door she says “oh my god he’s coming to my back door call 911” so I hang up and call 911. Lock my own back door which is a good few paces from hers and also very poorly lit. I’m panicking because - isn’t home invasion like everyone’s worst nightmare?
While on the phone with 911, I’m looking at my aunt’s house through my bathroom window. I can’t see the back door and momentarily I can see a guy in the shadows come from the back of my aunt’s house and begin to make his way to the aforementioned thoroughfare. I then see my neighbor on the other side of aunt’s house come out and start talking to the guy. From my window all I can see is the back of shadow guy walking away from my aunt’s house. Intervening neighbor has two small children inside.
My husband at my prompting gets up at this point and isn’t alarmed in the least. “It’s probably some drunk guy wandering into the wrong house.” There is a neighborhood bar nearby. Fair-ish enough although for the better part of a decade living here we have never had a drunk visitor.
We’re both watching the neighbor talk to the guy while I’m still on the line with 911. The shadow’s body language suggests harmlessness but that could also be drug-addled and reckless. Erratic?! Who can tell? The 911 dispatcher informs me that there are now units on the scene.
Like fucking stealth hawks in the night four JPSO squad cars pull up on either side of the block 2/2. No lights no sounds. They were there in five minutes flat.
Turns out by the time the officers got there my aunt figured out it was a friend of her son, early 20’s. My cousin had told said “burglar” friend via text to “meet me at mama’s place” and friend thought he meant his literal mother’s house. Friend is not drunk whatsoever. He’s a sweet guy who interpreted my cousin literally. He even arrived with a six pack of Andy gator. Cousin had apparently texted him “come through the back” - hence the walking to attempt to enter through the back porch.
As we stood in the street while the cops pulled away without fanfare we couldn’t help but laugh. All I could think was how relieved I was it wasn’t a bad guy. How ridiculous I felt for such a false alarm. And how fucking glad I was that if it had been bad that the police showed up. Holy fuck.
Now. There are many holes in the Swiss cheese that aligned to create a memorable situation for my aunt, my cousins’s friend, and me.
All I can tell you is this: at some point in the first conversation with my aunt, I was scared shitless. The next thing is that those squad cars showed up so fast I was astonished. The final thing I will tell you is that I don’t keep a gun in my home because I don’t know how to use one. I believe in them. So if you’re like me, reinforce your doors, or if you do responsibly own a gun, you know who you are. Don’t let the fright lead you. Key word is responsible.
The final, final is - thank you to JPSO. And to NOPD please know that effective policing is possible. What’s your problem? This is not a blame on individuals, it’s a blame on the organization. I used to live in a “safe” part of Orleans parish. I do not consider it as such now because criminal activity which did not exist there before some recent snap of fingers -??? I am extremely concerned about the individual NOPD officers and how degraded they are. Support our police. Public safety is a joint effort.
2023.05.28 07:44 frog_without_a_cause Why are shower doors so fucking hard to clean!!!
Whoever decided shower doors need to be taken off in order to thoroughly clean them should have their toe crushed by one.
This is madness!
I decided to give my bathroom a thorough cleaning. I was just about done when I took a look at my shower and noticed that the doors had some old building up. It's important to note that I was only wearing socks at the time. While attempting to clean said mold from those hard to reach areas (as you know, you can't get to those areas unless you remove the doors) while attempting to remove them, the top part that the wheels hang from pops off and one of the doors drops about 10 inches straight down and lands right on top of my left fucking big toe!
Mind you these are some big ass glass doors and they are heavy as fuck!
I now have a toe that looks like it was in an episode of Tom and Jerry meets the Sopranos. I may post a pic later just for giggles.
submitted by frog_without_a_cause to Vent [link] [comments]
This is madness!
I decided to give my bathroom a thorough cleaning. I was just about done when I took a look at my shower and noticed that the doors had some old building up. It's important to note that I was only wearing socks at the time. While attempting to clean said mold from those hard to reach areas (as you know, you can't get to those areas unless you remove the doors) while attempting to remove them, the top part that the wheels hang from pops off and one of the doors drops about 10 inches straight down and lands right on top of my left fucking big toe!
Mind you these are some big ass glass doors and they are heavy as fuck!
I now have a toe that looks like it was in an episode of Tom and Jerry meets the Sopranos. I may post a pic later just for giggles.
2023.05.28 07:37 TheShadowspawn Chapter Thirty-Six - Alcohol
Captain knocks on the door to Human Dave's quarters, and an assenting yell to enter is heard.
Human Dave is seated on the floor, holding a glass bottle that contains a clear liquid, looking very relaxed.
Alien Captain: "Human Dave, are you alright?"
HD: "Captain! Never better!"
Human Dave starts giggling uncontrollably while looking at Captain.
AC: "Human Dave, are you quite certain? You are acting atypical of your normal behaviour, especially as I have noticed you are sitting atop your datapad."
HD: "I am?"
Human Dave looks down and also notices that he is sitting on a datapad; the screen having cracked from his weight.
HD: "Ah, crap. I'll have to fix that later."
AC: "Human Dave, what is that bottle?"
HD: "Oh, this? It's a little present from my dad. He finally managed to make some quality booze and had it shipped to me by courier."
AC: "Booze?"
HD: "Right. Uhh... what's the word again? Oh! Right! Alcohol!"
AC: "Alcohol? Is that not an extremely dangerous substance used to keep surfaces and skin sterile in preparation for surgery? Why are you ingesting it?"
Human Dave takes another swig from the bottle.
HD, slurring: "Coz' this one tastes good. Alcohol is something that humans consume regularly for rec... rec... it's used to loosen us up and help us relax, Captain."
AC: "Human Dave, you appear to be intoxicated."
HD: "I am, Captain! I'm intoxi... in... I'm drunk, Captain!"
AC, unnerved: "...maybe I should go and get Doctor. Perhaps she has something that can remedy this situation."
HD, loudly: "Nooo. I'm fine, Captain. It'll wear off after I sleep."
AC: "..."
HD, trailing off: "Might regret gettin' so drunk when I wakes up, but I'll be fine."
Human Dave slowly leans to the side and slumps onto the ground.
The contents of the bottle spill slightly, but the bottle appeared to be mostly empty when Human Dave fell.
A snort sounds out loudly, startling Captain for a moment, which is followed by loud snoring.
AC: "..."
AC: "Maybe I will get Doctor, just in case."
...
AC: "What is your professional opinion, Doctor?"
Doctor and Captain stand in Human Dave's quarters.
Doctor is keeping a close eye on Human Dave while using a medical grade scanner to ascertain his current condition.
Alien Doctor: "Human Dave will be fine, Captain. Humans are capable of metabolising ethanol in this form, but excess is not recommended."
Human Dave snorts loudly again but continues to sleep.
AC: "How will we know how much is considered an excessive amount?"
AD: "That depends on the individual human, Captain. I am willing to bet that Human Dave knows his limits and will not imbibe in excess of his body's limits."
AC: "Is ethanol not extremely harmful to sentient beings?"
AD: "It is, however, humans have made many forms that are capable of being ingested by many species in the galaxy. I daresay that this one that Human Dave has consumed is too strong for our biology, but he may have access to weaker forms that are compatible with our bodies."
AC: "You sound as though you want to ingest such a deadly substance."
AD: "... I will admit that my scientific curiosity is considering the idea, as I am somewhat curious as to how our physiology will react to intoxication in this form."
AC: "... how intoxication is somehow a curiosity to you, Doctor, I will never understand."
AD: "However, that is a discussion to take place after Human Dave has awakened from his alcohol-induced slumber."
...
HD: "... oh, God, my head!"
AD: "Human Dave, how are you feeling?"
Human Dave runs a hand over his face, and it settles over his eyes.
HD, covering his eyes: "... like I just went seven rounds with a Keltiss War-kin."
AD: "Ah. Interesting. Human Dave, drink this."
Doctor hands Human Dave a water pouch, and he takes it gratefully.
HD, between sips of water: "Thank you very much, Doctor. Have you been studying up on human biology and physiology again?"
AD: "I have had a somewhat interesting refresher, especially in regards to intoxication in your species, Human Dave."
HD: "Ah. Did I do anything too embarrassing?"
AD: "Aside from making Captain panic slightly, no. Which is a pity. I have heard that humans make wonderful fools of themselves when intoxicated."
HD: "Well, at least I didn't try to take the engine apart."
AD: "..."
HD: "I didn't try to take the engine apart, did I?"
AD: "Sadly, no. It would have been an amusing sight."
Human Dave continues to sip at his water pouch, still covering his eyes.
HD: "Did you need something else from me, Doctor? You seem curious about something."
AD: "I was curious about something, Human Dave."
HD: "What is it?"
AD: "Do you have a recommendation for alcohol that is compatible with the Cradelian physiology?"
HD: "... what?"
AD: "I find myself curious as to the sensation of intoxication, and would like to experience it myself, for scientific purposes."
HD, quietly, to himself: "'For scientific purposes', she says."
AD: "Yes. Cradelians do not imbibe ethanol in this form, nor do we normally experience intoxication in social settings. The only time a Cradelian would experience intoxication is when undergoing surgery from anaesthesia, as it has something of a narcotic effect on our physiology."
HD: "I'll tell you what: let me get over this hangover, and I'll see what I can do."
AD: "Excellent. I look forward to the experience."
...
AC: "Remind me again how it came to this, Human Dave."
Human Dave and Captain are carrying a thoroughly intoxicated Doctor back to the ship; one on either side of her, with her arms draped over their shoulders; her feet barely dragging along the ground.
HD: "Doctor wanted to try being drunk. So I took her to a human bar and tried out a few drinks.
AC: "..."
HD: "We found one that was weak enough not to cause any significant damage to her physiology, and she had a blast."
AC: "What is a 'blast', Human Dave?"
HD: "I meant that she enjoyed herself, Captain. She only managed two before she passed out, though. A Mojito and a vodka soda, if I remember correctly. I'm pretty sure she liked the Mojito more because of its fruity flavour."
AC: "Doctor is partial to fruits, so that is understandable."
HD: "How come you didn't try anything, Captain?"
AC: "And run the risk of poisoning myself as a result? No, thank you, Human Dave."
HD: "Then I'll just have to introduce you to some zero-alcohol drinks, Captain. They are basically the same as alcoholic drinks, only no alcohol content in them."
AC: "... that seems an acceptable alternative, Human Dave. And Doctor did seem to enjoy herself before she passed out."
HD: "A bit of sleep, and maybe a once-over with the medical scanner, and she'll be fine."
AC: "... that you even have to mention the medical scanner, even in passing, does not fill me with a sense of confidence, Human Dave."
submitted by TheShadowspawn to u/TheShadowspawn [link] [comments]
Human Dave is seated on the floor, holding a glass bottle that contains a clear liquid, looking very relaxed.
Alien Captain: "Human Dave, are you alright?"
HD: "Captain! Never better!"
Human Dave starts giggling uncontrollably while looking at Captain.
AC: "Human Dave, are you quite certain? You are acting atypical of your normal behaviour, especially as I have noticed you are sitting atop your datapad."
HD: "I am?"
Human Dave looks down and also notices that he is sitting on a datapad; the screen having cracked from his weight.
HD: "Ah, crap. I'll have to fix that later."
AC: "Human Dave, what is that bottle?"
HD: "Oh, this? It's a little present from my dad. He finally managed to make some quality booze and had it shipped to me by courier."
AC: "Booze?"
HD: "Right. Uhh... what's the word again? Oh! Right! Alcohol!"
AC: "Alcohol? Is that not an extremely dangerous substance used to keep surfaces and skin sterile in preparation for surgery? Why are you ingesting it?"
Human Dave takes another swig from the bottle.
HD, slurring: "Coz' this one tastes good. Alcohol is something that humans consume regularly for rec... rec... it's used to loosen us up and help us relax, Captain."
AC: "Human Dave, you appear to be intoxicated."
HD: "I am, Captain! I'm intoxi... in... I'm drunk, Captain!"
AC, unnerved: "...maybe I should go and get Doctor. Perhaps she has something that can remedy this situation."
HD, loudly: "Nooo. I'm fine, Captain. It'll wear off after I sleep."
AC: "..."
HD, trailing off: "Might regret gettin' so drunk when I wakes up, but I'll be fine."
Human Dave slowly leans to the side and slumps onto the ground.
The contents of the bottle spill slightly, but the bottle appeared to be mostly empty when Human Dave fell.
A snort sounds out loudly, startling Captain for a moment, which is followed by loud snoring.
AC: "..."
AC: "Maybe I will get Doctor, just in case."
...
AC: "What is your professional opinion, Doctor?"
Doctor and Captain stand in Human Dave's quarters.
Doctor is keeping a close eye on Human Dave while using a medical grade scanner to ascertain his current condition.
Alien Doctor: "Human Dave will be fine, Captain. Humans are capable of metabolising ethanol in this form, but excess is not recommended."
Human Dave snorts loudly again but continues to sleep.
AC: "How will we know how much is considered an excessive amount?"
AD: "That depends on the individual human, Captain. I am willing to bet that Human Dave knows his limits and will not imbibe in excess of his body's limits."
AC: "Is ethanol not extremely harmful to sentient beings?"
AD: "It is, however, humans have made many forms that are capable of being ingested by many species in the galaxy. I daresay that this one that Human Dave has consumed is too strong for our biology, but he may have access to weaker forms that are compatible with our bodies."
AC: "You sound as though you want to ingest such a deadly substance."
AD: "... I will admit that my scientific curiosity is considering the idea, as I am somewhat curious as to how our physiology will react to intoxication in this form."
AC: "... how intoxication is somehow a curiosity to you, Doctor, I will never understand."
AD: "However, that is a discussion to take place after Human Dave has awakened from his alcohol-induced slumber."
...
HD: "... oh, God, my head!"
AD: "Human Dave, how are you feeling?"
Human Dave runs a hand over his face, and it settles over his eyes.
HD, covering his eyes: "... like I just went seven rounds with a Keltiss War-kin."
AD: "Ah. Interesting. Human Dave, drink this."
Doctor hands Human Dave a water pouch, and he takes it gratefully.
HD, between sips of water: "Thank you very much, Doctor. Have you been studying up on human biology and physiology again?"
AD: "I have had a somewhat interesting refresher, especially in regards to intoxication in your species, Human Dave."
HD: "Ah. Did I do anything too embarrassing?"
AD: "Aside from making Captain panic slightly, no. Which is a pity. I have heard that humans make wonderful fools of themselves when intoxicated."
HD: "Well, at least I didn't try to take the engine apart."
AD: "..."
HD: "I didn't try to take the engine apart, did I?"
AD: "Sadly, no. It would have been an amusing sight."
Human Dave continues to sip at his water pouch, still covering his eyes.
HD: "Did you need something else from me, Doctor? You seem curious about something."
AD: "I was curious about something, Human Dave."
HD: "What is it?"
AD: "Do you have a recommendation for alcohol that is compatible with the Cradelian physiology?"
HD: "... what?"
AD: "I find myself curious as to the sensation of intoxication, and would like to experience it myself, for scientific purposes."
HD, quietly, to himself: "'For scientific purposes', she says."
AD: "Yes. Cradelians do not imbibe ethanol in this form, nor do we normally experience intoxication in social settings. The only time a Cradelian would experience intoxication is when undergoing surgery from anaesthesia, as it has something of a narcotic effect on our physiology."
HD: "I'll tell you what: let me get over this hangover, and I'll see what I can do."
AD: "Excellent. I look forward to the experience."
...
AC: "Remind me again how it came to this, Human Dave."
Human Dave and Captain are carrying a thoroughly intoxicated Doctor back to the ship; one on either side of her, with her arms draped over their shoulders; her feet barely dragging along the ground.
HD: "Doctor wanted to try being drunk. So I took her to a human bar and tried out a few drinks.
AC: "..."
HD: "We found one that was weak enough not to cause any significant damage to her physiology, and she had a blast."
AC: "What is a 'blast', Human Dave?"
HD: "I meant that she enjoyed herself, Captain. She only managed two before she passed out, though. A Mojito and a vodka soda, if I remember correctly. I'm pretty sure she liked the Mojito more because of its fruity flavour."
AC: "Doctor is partial to fruits, so that is understandable."
HD: "How come you didn't try anything, Captain?"
AC: "And run the risk of poisoning myself as a result? No, thank you, Human Dave."
HD: "Then I'll just have to introduce you to some zero-alcohol drinks, Captain. They are basically the same as alcoholic drinks, only no alcohol content in them."
AC: "... that seems an acceptable alternative, Human Dave. And Doctor did seem to enjoy herself before she passed out."
HD: "A bit of sleep, and maybe a once-over with the medical scanner, and she'll be fine."
AC: "... that you even have to mention the medical scanner, even in passing, does not fill me with a sense of confidence, Human Dave."
2023.05.28 07:34 Oggy20 Military Ball, 9th of September, 1944
Just like every year on 9th of September, 1944 was no different. Military was, again, organizing a ball to celebrate the foundation of the Republic.
Mark always found this event exciting. He was a staunch republican but that was not the only reason. Ball has always been one of the only activities where high ranking officers sat together and talked to each other in a lightened mood.
He went into the ball room and immediately after, one of the other officers called to him. He was the commander of the 2nd Army, Eric Hill. “Come, Mark. Sit with us.”
Mark saluted and sat down on a chair. The table was crowded with generals, almost everyone here was also a member of the General Staff. A server rushed towards him in order to get his order.
Mark turned towards the waiter and said, “Just water.”
Server nodded and rushed. Eric spoke out;
“You are not staying I assume?”
Mark replied, “No, General. I’m not. We’ve spotted movements on the other side of the Rummish border. My division is currently investigating the issue. I’ll depart for Narbel in a few hours.”
Eric nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I see. Duty calls, as always. It's a shame you won't be able to stay and enjoy the festivities, Mark. But I trust your judgment when it comes to matters of national security."
Mark nodded solemnly. "Thank you, General. It's unfortunate timing, but our duty to protect the Republic must always come first. I'll do everything in my power to ensure the safety of our borders."
As the server returned with Mark's glass of water, he took a sip and continued, "We've been monitoring the Rummish border closely for any signs of aggression. It seems tensions have been escalating recently. Have you received any specific intelligence regarding the movements?"
Eric leaned in, his expression serious. "Indeed, Mark. Our intelligence reports indicate that the Rummish forces have been conducting military exercises near the border. It's difficult to determine their exact intentions, but it's clear they're flexing their military might. We cannot afford to underestimate them."
Mark nodded again, his mind already focused on the impending mission. "I understand, General. I'll make sure my unit is prepared for any possible scenarios. We cannot afford to let our guard down."
Another officer, General Roberts, interjected, "Mark, I've heard rumors of a potential diplomatic solution to ease the tensions. Do you think there's any truth to that?"
Mark glanced at General Roberts, contemplating the question. "It's hard to say, General. Diplomatic solutions are always preferable, but we must be cautious. The Rummish have been known to use diplomacy as a tactic to buy time or gather intelligence. Remember Dome? Everyone thought it was safe and sound until the Rummish took the city overnight. We must remain vigilant and prepared for any outcome."
Eric added, "Indeed, Mark. Diplomacy may be an option, but we cannot rely solely on it. Our military strength and readiness are crucial in maintaining our security and protecting our interests."
Mark nodded in agreement with General Eric's statement. "You're absolutely right, General. Diplomacy can only go so far, and in times of uncertainty, it's our military strength and readiness that ensure the safety and stability of our Republic."
General Roberts, a seasoned veteran, chimed in. "I remember a time during the Battle of Zeharen when we were outnumbered and outgunned. It was a grueling fight, but our determination and the valor of our soldiers turned the tide. We held our ground, pushing back the rebel forces and securing a crucial victory. You were also protecting our northern flank in that battle, Mark. If we fight our battles like we fought in Zeharen, no one will even dare to attack Sordland."
Mark listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of respect and questioning. He surely admired Roberts's patriotism and heroism but have always criticized his 'unrealistic approaches to modern problems'. Mark replied, "It's stories like these, General Roberts, that remind us of the sacrifices and courage displayed by our men and women on the front lines. Their unwavering dedication and bravery make us proud to serve alongside them. But we must also remember that not only bravery can win a fight. Having a more maneuverable unit with better weaponry has enabled us to shed less Sordish blood while crushing the rebels."
General Hill, known for his experience, shared a more somber tale. "During the Siege of Holsord in the Civil War, I commanded a battalion that was tasked with holding a critical position. We fought tooth and nail, enduring heavy bombardment and relentless assaults. Many lives were lost, and the toll it took on our soldiers was immense. But we held that position, not just for the sake of victory, but for the comradeship and unwavering bond that develops in the face of adversity."
Mark's gaze turned introspective, his mind filled with memories of fallen comrades. "War is a harsh and unforgiving reality, General. It tests the limits of our humanity and challenges our notions of what is right and just. It's our duty as leaders to honor the sacrifices made by those who came before us and strive for a world where peace prevails."
“Do you have any memories to share with us, Mark? You fought in the civil war, were with us in Zeharen and also fought against BFF. I’m sure you have dozens of memories right now.” said General Roberts. Mark Replied;
“Yes, General. But one of them still scratches my mind.” Mark replied and continued, “In Bergia, especially in winter time, BFF return to the mountains like bears going into hibernation. Because as terrorists with no clear pathway between mountains and with very light clothing, it becomes very hard for them to move from hill to hill, mountain to mountain. And in the first days of the spring, they come out from their caves, like bears themselves.”
General Hill laughed and said, “Come on, Mark. We already know how BFF operates.”
Mark smiled and continued, “In that time, while guarding his post in the outskirts of Deyr, one Sergeant Major spotted something with his binoculars, approximately 500 meters away. He noticed that someone was running away from the forest towards an open area with practically no cover. Sergeant noticed that the person he was watching seemed to be short and slender for an adult. Sergeant thinks to himself that it might be a child running, but the way the person is running doesn't seem playful; they are running while looking behind as if they're escaping from something. Then, a larger figure resembling a horse enters the frame from the same forest and starts chasing after the kid. After analyzing the figure for three seconds, the sergeant shouts, "Damn, it's a bear!" and leaves the binoculars, grabs his weapon, and sounds the alarm at his post. Taking three out of the five soldiers from his post and starts to rush towards the location where the child is, firing a shot into the air every hundred meters, alternating between sprints and fast running.”
“At the halfway point, the sergeant sees that the bear catches up to the little girl and claws at her from behind. Then, a horrifying scream pierces through the air.”
“When the gendermaries arrive, the girl lies face down, covered in blood in the snowy mud. She appears to be weakened from the injury and the running while a very aggressive brown bear has bitten her ankle and is shaking its head like a crocodile, trying to tear it off. The girl is also being thrown around in the mud with the force of the bear's shaking. The sergeant quickly realizes the life-threatening danger, shoots the bear with great marksmanship and immediately calls for help on his radio. Fortunately, the gendarmerie vehicle is on patrol nearby and quickly arrives at the scene with its sirens. The sergeant slings his rifle across his back and lifts the girl onto his right shoulder, then starts running towards the main road. Displaying the true valor of a Sordish soldier with a blue beret, he manages to run at a steady pace with the heavily wounded girl on his shoulder for eight minutes uphill, finally reaching the gendarmerie patrol vehicle. He places the girl on the vehicle's floor and jumps inside himself and without even turning off the sirens, they rush towards the state hospital. It should be noted that despite losing a significant amount of blood, the young girl remains conscious. Along the way, the gendarmes try to talk to her, keeping her awake. She says her name is Cassie.”
“Why was the girl there at that time? She thought she could take a shortcut through the forest to the village road and sing a couple more Bludish folk songs before it gets dark. Little did she realize that she would encounter a bear on her way.”
“Upon reaching the emergency room, while the first aid is being administered, Cassie asks for her "big soldier brother" since she is scared of the nurses and doctors. The sergeant, covered in blood and dirt, holding his rifle, takes a seat next to her and tries to comfort her. Meanwhile, the doctors intervene in the open wound. It should be noted again that Cassie has a broken left fibula, multiple abrasions and contusions, her clothes are torn to shreds, and her back is completely exposed. Deep scars, around 45-50 centimeters long can be seen extending from her right scapula to her left kidney. Additionally, there is a severe injury on her ankle. Even though a bear's strike to the back often results in a fatal outcome, she somehow hangs on to life.
“Later, we heard that the girl received a total of 121 stitches. She's doing well and recovering. The entire district gendarmerie is laughing all day because a girl's life was saved. The local Bludish population started calling the sergeant as ‘Ayıboğan’, which refers to the strength of a bear in the local dialect.”
“Every time when I read propaganda posters distributed by BFF that the Gendarmerie and Sordish Armed Forces is a tool fed by the fascist Sollists to silence and enslave the Bludish people, I always think of the sergeant major who left his position and equipment behind and ran an absolute marathon to save the girl's life. Then a question keeps revolving in my mind. What is Sordish Armed Forces and the Gendarmerie truly protects? Just a post, a position with sandbags and heavy weaponry or children like Cassie?”
General Roberts replied, “Children, of course.” all of the table seemed to be agreeing with him, maybe except a few officers. He continued, “What happened to the Sergeant Major?”
Mark replied, “I've given Sergeant Major a commendation for leaving his post in line of duty, a post which he must protect with his life. Because he left his post in order to protect a child, even Bludish, a citizen of this Republic.”
The atmosphere around the table grew more solemn as each general shared their own stories, some glorious, some heart wrenching and some with dilemmas. The clinking of glasses and the distant melodies from the ballroom provided a stark contrast to the weight of their memories.
General Roberts, attempting to lighten the mood, raised his glass and said, "To our fallen comrades and to the unwavering spirit of the men and women who have fought for our Republic!"
The other generals raised their glasses in unison, echoing his sentiment. Mark's eyes met with the others, and in that moment, they understood the gravity of their roles as leaders and the importance of preserving the legacy of those who had fought and sacrificed before them.
As the night continued, the conversation shifted towards lighter topics, interspersed with moments of laughter and camaraderie. They shared stories of triumphs and defeats, of bonds forged in the crucible of combat, and the collective sense of purpose that bound them together.
In that moment, amidst the military ball and the company of fellow generals, Mark found solace and inspiration. He knew that regardless of the challenges ahead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with comrades who shared his commitment and determination to protect the Republic…
submitted by Oggy20 to SordlandRP [link] [comments]
Mark always found this event exciting. He was a staunch republican but that was not the only reason. Ball has always been one of the only activities where high ranking officers sat together and talked to each other in a lightened mood.
He went into the ball room and immediately after, one of the other officers called to him. He was the commander of the 2nd Army, Eric Hill. “Come, Mark. Sit with us.”
Mark saluted and sat down on a chair. The table was crowded with generals, almost everyone here was also a member of the General Staff. A server rushed towards him in order to get his order.
Mark turned towards the waiter and said, “Just water.”
Server nodded and rushed. Eric spoke out;
“You are not staying I assume?”
Mark replied, “No, General. I’m not. We’ve spotted movements on the other side of the Rummish border. My division is currently investigating the issue. I’ll depart for Narbel in a few hours.”
Eric nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I see. Duty calls, as always. It's a shame you won't be able to stay and enjoy the festivities, Mark. But I trust your judgment when it comes to matters of national security."
Mark nodded solemnly. "Thank you, General. It's unfortunate timing, but our duty to protect the Republic must always come first. I'll do everything in my power to ensure the safety of our borders."
As the server returned with Mark's glass of water, he took a sip and continued, "We've been monitoring the Rummish border closely for any signs of aggression. It seems tensions have been escalating recently. Have you received any specific intelligence regarding the movements?"
Eric leaned in, his expression serious. "Indeed, Mark. Our intelligence reports indicate that the Rummish forces have been conducting military exercises near the border. It's difficult to determine their exact intentions, but it's clear they're flexing their military might. We cannot afford to underestimate them."
Mark nodded again, his mind already focused on the impending mission. "I understand, General. I'll make sure my unit is prepared for any possible scenarios. We cannot afford to let our guard down."
Another officer, General Roberts, interjected, "Mark, I've heard rumors of a potential diplomatic solution to ease the tensions. Do you think there's any truth to that?"
Mark glanced at General Roberts, contemplating the question. "It's hard to say, General. Diplomatic solutions are always preferable, but we must be cautious. The Rummish have been known to use diplomacy as a tactic to buy time or gather intelligence. Remember Dome? Everyone thought it was safe and sound until the Rummish took the city overnight. We must remain vigilant and prepared for any outcome."
Eric added, "Indeed, Mark. Diplomacy may be an option, but we cannot rely solely on it. Our military strength and readiness are crucial in maintaining our security and protecting our interests."
Mark nodded in agreement with General Eric's statement. "You're absolutely right, General. Diplomacy can only go so far, and in times of uncertainty, it's our military strength and readiness that ensure the safety and stability of our Republic."
General Roberts, a seasoned veteran, chimed in. "I remember a time during the Battle of Zeharen when we were outnumbered and outgunned. It was a grueling fight, but our determination and the valor of our soldiers turned the tide. We held our ground, pushing back the rebel forces and securing a crucial victory. You were also protecting our northern flank in that battle, Mark. If we fight our battles like we fought in Zeharen, no one will even dare to attack Sordland."
Mark listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of respect and questioning. He surely admired Roberts's patriotism and heroism but have always criticized his 'unrealistic approaches to modern problems'. Mark replied, "It's stories like these, General Roberts, that remind us of the sacrifices and courage displayed by our men and women on the front lines. Their unwavering dedication and bravery make us proud to serve alongside them. But we must also remember that not only bravery can win a fight. Having a more maneuverable unit with better weaponry has enabled us to shed less Sordish blood while crushing the rebels."
General Hill, known for his experience, shared a more somber tale. "During the Siege of Holsord in the Civil War, I commanded a battalion that was tasked with holding a critical position. We fought tooth and nail, enduring heavy bombardment and relentless assaults. Many lives were lost, and the toll it took on our soldiers was immense. But we held that position, not just for the sake of victory, but for the comradeship and unwavering bond that develops in the face of adversity."
Mark's gaze turned introspective, his mind filled with memories of fallen comrades. "War is a harsh and unforgiving reality, General. It tests the limits of our humanity and challenges our notions of what is right and just. It's our duty as leaders to honor the sacrifices made by those who came before us and strive for a world where peace prevails."
“Do you have any memories to share with us, Mark? You fought in the civil war, were with us in Zeharen and also fought against BFF. I’m sure you have dozens of memories right now.” said General Roberts. Mark Replied;
“Yes, General. But one of them still scratches my mind.” Mark replied and continued, “In Bergia, especially in winter time, BFF return to the mountains like bears going into hibernation. Because as terrorists with no clear pathway between mountains and with very light clothing, it becomes very hard for them to move from hill to hill, mountain to mountain. And in the first days of the spring, they come out from their caves, like bears themselves.”
General Hill laughed and said, “Come on, Mark. We already know how BFF operates.”
Mark smiled and continued, “In that time, while guarding his post in the outskirts of Deyr, one Sergeant Major spotted something with his binoculars, approximately 500 meters away. He noticed that someone was running away from the forest towards an open area with practically no cover. Sergeant noticed that the person he was watching seemed to be short and slender for an adult. Sergeant thinks to himself that it might be a child running, but the way the person is running doesn't seem playful; they are running while looking behind as if they're escaping from something. Then, a larger figure resembling a horse enters the frame from the same forest and starts chasing after the kid. After analyzing the figure for three seconds, the sergeant shouts, "Damn, it's a bear!" and leaves the binoculars, grabs his weapon, and sounds the alarm at his post. Taking three out of the five soldiers from his post and starts to rush towards the location where the child is, firing a shot into the air every hundred meters, alternating between sprints and fast running.”
“At the halfway point, the sergeant sees that the bear catches up to the little girl and claws at her from behind. Then, a horrifying scream pierces through the air.”
“When the gendermaries arrive, the girl lies face down, covered in blood in the snowy mud. She appears to be weakened from the injury and the running while a very aggressive brown bear has bitten her ankle and is shaking its head like a crocodile, trying to tear it off. The girl is also being thrown around in the mud with the force of the bear's shaking. The sergeant quickly realizes the life-threatening danger, shoots the bear with great marksmanship and immediately calls for help on his radio. Fortunately, the gendarmerie vehicle is on patrol nearby and quickly arrives at the scene with its sirens. The sergeant slings his rifle across his back and lifts the girl onto his right shoulder, then starts running towards the main road. Displaying the true valor of a Sordish soldier with a blue beret, he manages to run at a steady pace with the heavily wounded girl on his shoulder for eight minutes uphill, finally reaching the gendarmerie patrol vehicle. He places the girl on the vehicle's floor and jumps inside himself and without even turning off the sirens, they rush towards the state hospital. It should be noted that despite losing a significant amount of blood, the young girl remains conscious. Along the way, the gendarmes try to talk to her, keeping her awake. She says her name is Cassie.”
“Why was the girl there at that time? She thought she could take a shortcut through the forest to the village road and sing a couple more Bludish folk songs before it gets dark. Little did she realize that she would encounter a bear on her way.”
“Upon reaching the emergency room, while the first aid is being administered, Cassie asks for her "big soldier brother" since she is scared of the nurses and doctors. The sergeant, covered in blood and dirt, holding his rifle, takes a seat next to her and tries to comfort her. Meanwhile, the doctors intervene in the open wound. It should be noted again that Cassie has a broken left fibula, multiple abrasions and contusions, her clothes are torn to shreds, and her back is completely exposed. Deep scars, around 45-50 centimeters long can be seen extending from her right scapula to her left kidney. Additionally, there is a severe injury on her ankle. Even though a bear's strike to the back often results in a fatal outcome, she somehow hangs on to life.
“Later, we heard that the girl received a total of 121 stitches. She's doing well and recovering. The entire district gendarmerie is laughing all day because a girl's life was saved. The local Bludish population started calling the sergeant as ‘Ayıboğan’, which refers to the strength of a bear in the local dialect.”
“Every time when I read propaganda posters distributed by BFF that the Gendarmerie and Sordish Armed Forces is a tool fed by the fascist Sollists to silence and enslave the Bludish people, I always think of the sergeant major who left his position and equipment behind and ran an absolute marathon to save the girl's life. Then a question keeps revolving in my mind. What is Sordish Armed Forces and the Gendarmerie truly protects? Just a post, a position with sandbags and heavy weaponry or children like Cassie?”
General Roberts replied, “Children, of course.” all of the table seemed to be agreeing with him, maybe except a few officers. He continued, “What happened to the Sergeant Major?”
Mark replied, “I've given Sergeant Major a commendation for leaving his post in line of duty, a post which he must protect with his life. Because he left his post in order to protect a child, even Bludish, a citizen of this Republic.”
The atmosphere around the table grew more solemn as each general shared their own stories, some glorious, some heart wrenching and some with dilemmas. The clinking of glasses and the distant melodies from the ballroom provided a stark contrast to the weight of their memories.
General Roberts, attempting to lighten the mood, raised his glass and said, "To our fallen comrades and to the unwavering spirit of the men and women who have fought for our Republic!"
The other generals raised their glasses in unison, echoing his sentiment. Mark's eyes met with the others, and in that moment, they understood the gravity of their roles as leaders and the importance of preserving the legacy of those who had fought and sacrificed before them.
As the night continued, the conversation shifted towards lighter topics, interspersed with moments of laughter and camaraderie. They shared stories of triumphs and defeats, of bonds forged in the crucible of combat, and the collective sense of purpose that bound them together.
In that moment, amidst the military ball and the company of fellow generals, Mark found solace and inspiration. He knew that regardless of the challenges ahead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with comrades who shared his commitment and determination to protect the Republic…
2023.05.28 07:32 likeeyedid I moved to a neighborhood where the people are too welcoming
It wasn't simply normal in the beginning, it was fantastic. I knew it as soon as the bus reached the neighborhood, as we passed all the roads with the coffee shops and streets so narrow I thought we might get stuck.
The apartment I looked at was rather small but enough for me and most importantly cheap. My workplace was only a twenty-minute bike ride away but I would never go there. Everything seemed right and I immediately signed the contract, I moved in a week later.
The best argument was that it felt like home. I'd recently gone through a rough breakup and some other stuff, I needed a fresh start and this was the perfect place for it.
This city had around a million residents but the neighborhood made you feel like you were in a small town or village even. Very rustic and charming. And with all sorts of quaint traditions that my neighbor Linda would teach me.
--
The apartment came furnished so I only had to carry in some boxes which I decided to do on my own. I knew it was time for me to become independent.
Linda greeted me as I walked in and took the box I was holding from my hands.
"Oh, you don't need to do that! I got it," I smiled at the old lady.
"Nonsense! We are neighbors and neighbors help each other. I'm not rotten yet, dear."
"Oh no, I didn't mean-," I paused and smiled instead. If she wanted to help, I'd let her help. Having a good relationship with your neighbors is always important as they can make your life hell if they want to.
Besides, she stopped helping after the first box. She sat down at my kitchen table and watched me carry the rest in. After I brought in the kitchen boxes, I made us some tea. Moving my boxes to the second floor took me less than an hour so I sat with her and chatted some more. That's when she told me about the first thing I had to do in the new neighborhood.
"Alright, listen dear. After you've settled in a bit, you get a long branch from a tree. You can buy it in one of our flower shops or get a fallen one from a real tree. After you remove all the leaves, you write your name on it and glue the branch to the door. The neighbors who wish to do so will write you little letters or glue small presents to the branch."
I'd never heard of anything like it but it sounded sweet.
--
After walking through the streets for a day, finding a grocery store, a pharmacy, and of course the flower shop, I noticed a few things.
For example, many of the houses had at least one window with black glass. It made little sense to me, why not simply use a curtain? But I would ask Linda about it later.
Everyone was insanely friendly. People waved at me and smiled as soon as they saw me. A young woman with a little boy in her arm even came up to me and asked if I'd put up my branch yet as she had a present for me.
"How do you know-" I started asking and she immediately interrupted me.
"Oh, I'm a friend of Linda's and, well, word travels fast here."
I smiled.
"Well, you don't need to get me anything, I already feel very welcome, everyone is so nice. My name is Maria, by the way."
I extended my arm to shake her hand.
"I know," she looked at my open hand for a moment but didn't reach for it. "You know, we have another new neighbor just on this street. A young gentleman named Julian," she pointed at an old, narrow house across from us with a branch taped to its door.
"I should get going. My other son is home alone. It was lovely to meet you, Maira. Welcome, again."
--
I decided to have a look at the new guy's branch, to get an idea of what I was to expect.
People had glued some notes on it. Some said "welcome", or "nice to have you hear", others were more strange.
"Count yourself lucky."
"Welcome to hell."
I reached for some of the presents when my hands touched something weird and slimy.
When I saw what it was, I instinctively jumped back.
An eye.
I can't say if it was human or from an animal as I'd never seen one out of its socket but it definitely looked real.
No matter how much I rubbed my hands against my pants, I couldn't get the feeling off.
That's when I noticed a guy watching me from a window next to the door.
He said something which I couldn't hear through the window but he looked angry. I got ready to leave quickly when the door opened.
"Wait!"
When he passed the branch he looked at it with disgust in his face.
"Are you Julian?" I asked.
He nodded and came dangerously close. I couldn't help but notice that his eyes had the same brown color as the one I'd just touched.
"You're new," he said.
"Yes."
I looked around and tried to think of a reason to leave. While he looked normal, nice even, he was giving me an off vibe.
He came even closer and started whispering in my ear.
"It's too late for me but you should try and leave."
I stepped back.
"Yes, I was just about to. See you-"
"No, leave this neighborhood. Try and see if you can. Most of us get stuck here."
Now I was getting really nervous.
"Listen, buddy, I really gotta go and-"
"Do you remember your life before coming here?"
I laughed.
"What kind of weird question is that? Of course, I remember."
"That's good. I guess."
He got a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and offered one to me.
I shook my head. From the things he was saying felt as if he was scared of something but he spoke in such a calm way.
"Do you see the window above mine here? With the black paint? They have someone trapped in there. He cries all night long. The other day I went up to check on the people there. I really shouldn't have."
"Why?" Now I was really asking out of curiosity.
"It's hard to explain to normal people. They are broken humans, or something like that."
He was talking like a crazy person but the weird thing is that he seemed really genuine. Maybe a little traumatized.
"Okay listen," I was speaking with a really loud voice now and people started looking out of their windows.
"No, you listen," Julian interrupted me again. "Is there an attic in your house? Or a basement? If there is, you might wanna look at it. Or not. Might be better to stay delusional, makes it easier."
--
I'd just moved here and had already met three eccentric neighbors. Still, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to discover.
The following afternoon, I went down to the basement of my house.
The door was locked but one of my keys fit the lock which eased my mind a little. There couldn't be anything that bad waiting for me if I was allowed down there.
In reality, though, it was absolutely horrific. Linda simply didn't care if I saw it.
When I opened the door, I looked into the darkness but quickly found a light switch at the top of the stairs. Still, the light was quite dim and it took my eyes a bit to get used to the light.
The basement was one surprisingly big room. Twice the size of my apartment.
And filled with at least a dozen fridges. The big ones that you see at the supermarket with glass tops.
And inside of them were organs.
I almost wished that this was about organ trafficking but it got so much worse. I walked up to one of them and inspected it. There was a heart inside which I swear was beating. And yes, I realize that's impossible.
But that's not even the worst part. The heart had all these flesh lumps, some small and some really big.
My stomach started turning and my brain was shouting to get the hell out when I heard someone coming down the stairs.
"Not everyone comes to live here, some come to die," I heard Linda say.
She laughed when she saw my frightened face.
"Oh, not you dear. You belong here."
I was freezing and sweating at the same time.
"What are- I don't understand. Why... are they growing?"
"Well humans sometimes die and when they are still fresh, we take whatever we can from them. We can make new ones out of the individual parts," she grinned like a proud child.
"New ones?"
"New humans."
My stomach kept turning, I wouldn't be able to keep it in for long but I also didn't want to puke in the room of growing organs. I had to look away.
"But how?"
She frowned.
"There are many different ways to make a human, it's not all sex or science. We make sure all conditions are right and then we pray. We do it our way, the way we were taught."
I swallowed.
"Taught by whom?"
She rolled her eyes as if I just asked the stupidest of questions.
"The one who takes care of all of us. He is our leader and the leader of many more communities. Don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough."
That's the last thing I wanted. This was entirely and absolutely absurd but she seemed so sure. This woman was insane, she probably killed people and experimented with their organs. Of course, no humans grew out of that. I knew I needed to get out of here but I couldn't let her see how freaked out I was, so I kept asking questions.
"But how does it make sense? You kill one person and make a new one out of them? Why not use existing people and-"
"This way we can make more. A brain makes a new one. A heart makes a new one. And so on. The more substance we have, the more different creatures we can create. They all serve different purposes. You see that by their looks. Some look just like you and me, others are far more uncanny. Usually, the one made out of hearts or livers, don't ask me why. But don't worry, we keep them hidden."
She shrugged.
"Anyway, you don't need to know every single detail. You know, I almost feel like you're using me. Pressing information out of me because you know I am lonely and like to chat. It is very cheeky and manipulative, I don't like it one bit. Being used."
"No! I'm just curious, that's all. I believe you are a very important part of this community."
"Sure as hell I am," she looked away but I could tell that she was slightly flattered. "You know you don't need to act all high and mighty just because you forgot."
"Forgot what?"
Linda smirked.
"That you came to life here, grew out of a magnificent brain. One that our leader brought us himself. You are one of our most excellent copies, Maira. And we are so glad you found your way home."
I stayed silent.
"You can go now, girl. I can tell that you're too much of a princess to help with my work."
--
I didn't need to hear more. I jumped up the stairs and went through the door. As soon as I stepped out, I started running.
Out of the neighborhood, I thought but I didn't even try. Instead, I ended up at Julian's doorstep.
He saw the look on my face and knew immediately.
"You can't leave. Not as long as they don't want you to."
"Yeah, figured that one out." I bit my lip and looked around. I almost didn't dare to say those next words.
"Is it odd that I don't feel bad about that? I mean, I kept trying to get out but when I couldn't, I wasn't really disappointed. It's like I belong-"
"I know," he interrupted me. "I feel the same way."
submitted by likeeyedid to nosleep [link] [comments]
The apartment I looked at was rather small but enough for me and most importantly cheap. My workplace was only a twenty-minute bike ride away but I would never go there. Everything seemed right and I immediately signed the contract, I moved in a week later.
The best argument was that it felt like home. I'd recently gone through a rough breakup and some other stuff, I needed a fresh start and this was the perfect place for it.
This city had around a million residents but the neighborhood made you feel like you were in a small town or village even. Very rustic and charming. And with all sorts of quaint traditions that my neighbor Linda would teach me.
--
The apartment came furnished so I only had to carry in some boxes which I decided to do on my own. I knew it was time for me to become independent.
Linda greeted me as I walked in and took the box I was holding from my hands.
"Oh, you don't need to do that! I got it," I smiled at the old lady.
"Nonsense! We are neighbors and neighbors help each other. I'm not rotten yet, dear."
"Oh no, I didn't mean-," I paused and smiled instead. If she wanted to help, I'd let her help. Having a good relationship with your neighbors is always important as they can make your life hell if they want to.
Besides, she stopped helping after the first box. She sat down at my kitchen table and watched me carry the rest in. After I brought in the kitchen boxes, I made us some tea. Moving my boxes to the second floor took me less than an hour so I sat with her and chatted some more. That's when she told me about the first thing I had to do in the new neighborhood.
"Alright, listen dear. After you've settled in a bit, you get a long branch from a tree. You can buy it in one of our flower shops or get a fallen one from a real tree. After you remove all the leaves, you write your name on it and glue the branch to the door. The neighbors who wish to do so will write you little letters or glue small presents to the branch."
I'd never heard of anything like it but it sounded sweet.
--
After walking through the streets for a day, finding a grocery store, a pharmacy, and of course the flower shop, I noticed a few things.
For example, many of the houses had at least one window with black glass. It made little sense to me, why not simply use a curtain? But I would ask Linda about it later.
Everyone was insanely friendly. People waved at me and smiled as soon as they saw me. A young woman with a little boy in her arm even came up to me and asked if I'd put up my branch yet as she had a present for me.
"How do you know-" I started asking and she immediately interrupted me.
"Oh, I'm a friend of Linda's and, well, word travels fast here."
I smiled.
"Well, you don't need to get me anything, I already feel very welcome, everyone is so nice. My name is Maria, by the way."
I extended my arm to shake her hand.
"I know," she looked at my open hand for a moment but didn't reach for it. "You know, we have another new neighbor just on this street. A young gentleman named Julian," she pointed at an old, narrow house across from us with a branch taped to its door.
"I should get going. My other son is home alone. It was lovely to meet you, Maira. Welcome, again."
--
I decided to have a look at the new guy's branch, to get an idea of what I was to expect.
People had glued some notes on it. Some said "welcome", or "nice to have you hear", others were more strange.
"Count yourself lucky."
"Welcome to hell."
I reached for some of the presents when my hands touched something weird and slimy.
When I saw what it was, I instinctively jumped back.
An eye.
I can't say if it was human or from an animal as I'd never seen one out of its socket but it definitely looked real.
No matter how much I rubbed my hands against my pants, I couldn't get the feeling off.
That's when I noticed a guy watching me from a window next to the door.
He said something which I couldn't hear through the window but he looked angry. I got ready to leave quickly when the door opened.
"Wait!"
When he passed the branch he looked at it with disgust in his face.
"Are you Julian?" I asked.
He nodded and came dangerously close. I couldn't help but notice that his eyes had the same brown color as the one I'd just touched.
"You're new," he said.
"Yes."
I looked around and tried to think of a reason to leave. While he looked normal, nice even, he was giving me an off vibe.
He came even closer and started whispering in my ear.
"It's too late for me but you should try and leave."
I stepped back.
"Yes, I was just about to. See you-"
"No, leave this neighborhood. Try and see if you can. Most of us get stuck here."
Now I was getting really nervous.
"Listen, buddy, I really gotta go and-"
"Do you remember your life before coming here?"
I laughed.
"What kind of weird question is that? Of course, I remember."
"That's good. I guess."
He got a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and offered one to me.
I shook my head. From the things he was saying felt as if he was scared of something but he spoke in such a calm way.
"Do you see the window above mine here? With the black paint? They have someone trapped in there. He cries all night long. The other day I went up to check on the people there. I really shouldn't have."
"Why?" Now I was really asking out of curiosity.
"It's hard to explain to normal people. They are broken humans, or something like that."
He was talking like a crazy person but the weird thing is that he seemed really genuine. Maybe a little traumatized.
"Okay listen," I was speaking with a really loud voice now and people started looking out of their windows.
"No, you listen," Julian interrupted me again. "Is there an attic in your house? Or a basement? If there is, you might wanna look at it. Or not. Might be better to stay delusional, makes it easier."
--
I'd just moved here and had already met three eccentric neighbors. Still, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to discover.
The following afternoon, I went down to the basement of my house.
The door was locked but one of my keys fit the lock which eased my mind a little. There couldn't be anything that bad waiting for me if I was allowed down there.
In reality, though, it was absolutely horrific. Linda simply didn't care if I saw it.
When I opened the door, I looked into the darkness but quickly found a light switch at the top of the stairs. Still, the light was quite dim and it took my eyes a bit to get used to the light.
The basement was one surprisingly big room. Twice the size of my apartment.
And filled with at least a dozen fridges. The big ones that you see at the supermarket with glass tops.
And inside of them were organs.
I almost wished that this was about organ trafficking but it got so much worse. I walked up to one of them and inspected it. There was a heart inside which I swear was beating. And yes, I realize that's impossible.
But that's not even the worst part. The heart had all these flesh lumps, some small and some really big.
My stomach started turning and my brain was shouting to get the hell out when I heard someone coming down the stairs.
"Not everyone comes to live here, some come to die," I heard Linda say.
She laughed when she saw my frightened face.
"Oh, not you dear. You belong here."
I was freezing and sweating at the same time.
"What are- I don't understand. Why... are they growing?"
"Well humans sometimes die and when they are still fresh, we take whatever we can from them. We can make new ones out of the individual parts," she grinned like a proud child.
"New ones?"
"New humans."
My stomach kept turning, I wouldn't be able to keep it in for long but I also didn't want to puke in the room of growing organs. I had to look away.
"But how?"
She frowned.
"There are many different ways to make a human, it's not all sex or science. We make sure all conditions are right and then we pray. We do it our way, the way we were taught."
I swallowed.
"Taught by whom?"
She rolled her eyes as if I just asked the stupidest of questions.
"The one who takes care of all of us. He is our leader and the leader of many more communities. Don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough."
That's the last thing I wanted. This was entirely and absolutely absurd but she seemed so sure. This woman was insane, she probably killed people and experimented with their organs. Of course, no humans grew out of that. I knew I needed to get out of here but I couldn't let her see how freaked out I was, so I kept asking questions.
"But how does it make sense? You kill one person and make a new one out of them? Why not use existing people and-"
"This way we can make more. A brain makes a new one. A heart makes a new one. And so on. The more substance we have, the more different creatures we can create. They all serve different purposes. You see that by their looks. Some look just like you and me, others are far more uncanny. Usually, the one made out of hearts or livers, don't ask me why. But don't worry, we keep them hidden."
She shrugged.
"Anyway, you don't need to know every single detail. You know, I almost feel like you're using me. Pressing information out of me because you know I am lonely and like to chat. It is very cheeky and manipulative, I don't like it one bit. Being used."
"No! I'm just curious, that's all. I believe you are a very important part of this community."
"Sure as hell I am," she looked away but I could tell that she was slightly flattered. "You know you don't need to act all high and mighty just because you forgot."
"Forgot what?"
Linda smirked.
"That you came to life here, grew out of a magnificent brain. One that our leader brought us himself. You are one of our most excellent copies, Maira. And we are so glad you found your way home."
I stayed silent.
"You can go now, girl. I can tell that you're too much of a princess to help with my work."
--
I didn't need to hear more. I jumped up the stairs and went through the door. As soon as I stepped out, I started running.
Out of the neighborhood, I thought but I didn't even try. Instead, I ended up at Julian's doorstep.
He saw the look on my face and knew immediately.
"You can't leave. Not as long as they don't want you to."
"Yeah, figured that one out." I bit my lip and looked around. I almost didn't dare to say those next words.
"Is it odd that I don't feel bad about that? I mean, I kept trying to get out but when I couldn't, I wasn't really disappointed. It's like I belong-"
"I know," he interrupted me. "I feel the same way."
2023.05.28 07:26 Original-Loquat3788 A Mechanized Killing
Laura Frater was studying John's framed black and white photo in his military uniform when her much older husband, Stoker Frater, appeared behind.
'I think it's time, darling. John needs to go into the attic.'
'It's just not right.' She sobbed. 'God shouldn't have done it.'
'You know this is a stead of science; don't blame God, blame mechanized warfare and that swine Kaiser Wilhelm.'
Of course, she could've blamed Stoker because he signed John up for the Great War.
Stoker led Laura, clutching the photo, to the attic stairs.
'You know, Laura. I lost a son that day.'
Stoker lit a gas burner and ascended into the thatch-roofed farmhouse with the picture.
'I still feel his presence,' Laura said.
'Laura, we've been over this.'
'But the medium in….'
'Quieten down! Those mystics are nothing but shearers trying to fleece you.'
Stoker was a dairy farmer but, more than that, an amateur inventor. His patented cholera belt lay in the attic. It hadn’t made him his fortune.
He paused. There were muddy footprints on the floor.
'Laura! Get the damn child here now!'
Thomas (10) stood in front of him.
'I haven't been up, I swear!'
He turned to Laura. 'Bring me the thwacker.'
'Please, Father.'
The battery-powered gears gradually ratcheted the tension until the paddle was released in a mighty wallop, wood striking flesh.
…
'You know we did a terrible thing, Stoker; we broke a covenant,' Laura said, looking up at the attic.
'You want to join the child? Go and feed the cattle!'
Laura pulled on her winter coat.
Tracks in the snow lead to the windswept barn. Strange. None of them had been out that morning.
Beside the door was a newspaper. She unfolded it but couldn't read it because it was in French.
…
When Laura didn't return, Stoker stormed outside.
'That bloody girl!'
And she was bloody.
Laura lay in the hay, her throat cut, cows lowing around her...
A disheveled, wild-eyed man sat in the shadows, and he brought Stoker down with a single shot from a model 1910 pistol.
'John, son, you were….'
'No, Father, I wasn't killed.' He stood over him.
'You've murdered your own,' he paused, about to say sister because it had become such an engrained lie they told the child.
'I've killed my wife? No, I believe she’s your wife now.'
John tied the old man's hands and dragged him across the dirt floor to another one of his inventions- the rotolactor.
'You sent me over there to be chewed up by mechanical monsters so you could steal her!' He gestured over at the dead woman. 'I made it easy for Laura but not for you.'
The rotolactor worked via a foot-powered pump attached to an udder-sized suction cup; he stuck it over the bullet wound in his father's chest.
'We're going to milk every last drop of blood from you for every pint I spilled on those killing fields.'
submitted by Original-Loquat3788 to shortscarystories [link] [comments]
'I think it's time, darling. John needs to go into the attic.'
'It's just not right.' She sobbed. 'God shouldn't have done it.'
'You know this is a stead of science; don't blame God, blame mechanized warfare and that swine Kaiser Wilhelm.'
Of course, she could've blamed Stoker because he signed John up for the Great War.
Stoker led Laura, clutching the photo, to the attic stairs.
'You know, Laura. I lost a son that day.'
Stoker lit a gas burner and ascended into the thatch-roofed farmhouse with the picture.
'I still feel his presence,' Laura said.
'Laura, we've been over this.'
'But the medium in….'
'Quieten down! Those mystics are nothing but shearers trying to fleece you.'
Stoker was a dairy farmer but, more than that, an amateur inventor. His patented cholera belt lay in the attic. It hadn’t made him his fortune.
He paused. There were muddy footprints on the floor.
'Laura! Get the damn child here now!'
Thomas (10) stood in front of him.
'I haven't been up, I swear!'
He turned to Laura. 'Bring me the thwacker.'
'Please, Father.'
The battery-powered gears gradually ratcheted the tension until the paddle was released in a mighty wallop, wood striking flesh.
…
'You know we did a terrible thing, Stoker; we broke a covenant,' Laura said, looking up at the attic.
'You want to join the child? Go and feed the cattle!'
Laura pulled on her winter coat.
Tracks in the snow lead to the windswept barn. Strange. None of them had been out that morning.
Beside the door was a newspaper. She unfolded it but couldn't read it because it was in French.
…
When Laura didn't return, Stoker stormed outside.
'That bloody girl!'
And she was bloody.
Laura lay in the hay, her throat cut, cows lowing around her...
A disheveled, wild-eyed man sat in the shadows, and he brought Stoker down with a single shot from a model 1910 pistol.
'John, son, you were….'
'No, Father, I wasn't killed.' He stood over him.
'You've murdered your own,' he paused, about to say sister because it had become such an engrained lie they told the child.
'I've killed my wife? No, I believe she’s your wife now.'
John tied the old man's hands and dragged him across the dirt floor to another one of his inventions- the rotolactor.
'You sent me over there to be chewed up by mechanical monsters so you could steal her!' He gestured over at the dead woman. 'I made it easy for Laura but not for you.'
The rotolactor worked via a foot-powered pump attached to an udder-sized suction cup; he stuck it over the bullet wound in his father's chest.
'We're going to milk every last drop of blood from you for every pint I spilled on those killing fields.'
2023.05.28 07:21 Takosannn Me experience from about 12 years ago.
Well after reading a bunch of stories I kind of wanted to share my experience and maybe hear thoughts about it from other people. I do have 2 separate stories where I had things happen to me throughout months. This story will be when I was about ten years old living in San Diego.
Anyways the first night something strange happened was after my surgery around august as I was about to enter 5th grade. I get home and as I was about to go to bed my parents ask me if I can walk up the stairs and I say no I struggle, but honestly it was just cuz I prefer sleeping on the floor then an actual bed and I still do. Around maybe 3/4 in the morning I randomly woke up and I hear a laughter coming towards a closet. I kind of was hoping it was one of my moms Halloween decorations went off as my mom was obsessed with Halloween and had a bunch of decorations. I’d say maybe like 5 minutes later I hear some scratching on the couch directly behind me then my dad walks down maybe like about thirty minutes later to get ready for work and I tell him what happened just for him to search the house and find nothing.
Things go on for months and it’s always little things like seeing shadows as I’m in the shower. There was also this one time where I was hanging off the ladder of the top bunk upside down and that was scary waking up to or another time when I’m asleep I wake up to me basically punching a shelf. Me punching the shelf I can understand as maybe it was an involuntary movement but hanging upside down from my bunk bed seems pretty hard to do and that was also the only time that has happened to me not entirely sure if these two instances had anything to do with what I’ve experienced but when it happened it just felt super strange to me.
Ok so now the last thing to ever happen to me or at least last thing I noticed was the most strangest thing to happen to me in my life. I can’t really remember around when it happened but basically I’m lying down in my bed as I’m trying to sleep then all of a sudden my vision goes black. I was confused and scared thinking I went blind as I knew my eyes were wide open then about ten seconds later my vision basically turned into something like infrared vision. The whole room was blue except for a guy who looked like they were sitting down on a box in my closet. The door was closed and I wanted to get up to open my door or at least make a run for it downstairs. People have told me it could’ve been sleep paralysis but I had full control over my body so to me that doesn’t really make much sense I was just too scared to do anything so I pretended to be asleep and after maybe like ten minutes later my vision went back to normal.
That’s my story thank you for reading if you did. Sorry if the story is long but I wanted to share every thought as well and maybe hear inputs from other people as well.
submitted by Takosannn to Paranormal [link] [comments]
Anyways the first night something strange happened was after my surgery around august as I was about to enter 5th grade. I get home and as I was about to go to bed my parents ask me if I can walk up the stairs and I say no I struggle, but honestly it was just cuz I prefer sleeping on the floor then an actual bed and I still do. Around maybe 3/4 in the morning I randomly woke up and I hear a laughter coming towards a closet. I kind of was hoping it was one of my moms Halloween decorations went off as my mom was obsessed with Halloween and had a bunch of decorations. I’d say maybe like 5 minutes later I hear some scratching on the couch directly behind me then my dad walks down maybe like about thirty minutes later to get ready for work and I tell him what happened just for him to search the house and find nothing.
Things go on for months and it’s always little things like seeing shadows as I’m in the shower. There was also this one time where I was hanging off the ladder of the top bunk upside down and that was scary waking up to or another time when I’m asleep I wake up to me basically punching a shelf. Me punching the shelf I can understand as maybe it was an involuntary movement but hanging upside down from my bunk bed seems pretty hard to do and that was also the only time that has happened to me not entirely sure if these two instances had anything to do with what I’ve experienced but when it happened it just felt super strange to me.
Ok so now the last thing to ever happen to me or at least last thing I noticed was the most strangest thing to happen to me in my life. I can’t really remember around when it happened but basically I’m lying down in my bed as I’m trying to sleep then all of a sudden my vision goes black. I was confused and scared thinking I went blind as I knew my eyes were wide open then about ten seconds later my vision basically turned into something like infrared vision. The whole room was blue except for a guy who looked like they were sitting down on a box in my closet. The door was closed and I wanted to get up to open my door or at least make a run for it downstairs. People have told me it could’ve been sleep paralysis but I had full control over my body so to me that doesn’t really make much sense I was just too scared to do anything so I pretended to be asleep and after maybe like ten minutes later my vision went back to normal.
That’s my story thank you for reading if you did. Sorry if the story is long but I wanted to share every thought as well and maybe hear inputs from other people as well.
2023.05.28 06:56 Speedster012 How do you write bad things happening to the protagonists (despite being against the idea yourself)?
Asking for others' approaches, techniques about this topic. If this falls into brainstorming, I apologize, and I'll delete this post.
It's like the Titanic. The iceberg decided to be petty that night, the ship has been deep six'd in more ways than one, and everyone left behind is screaming until there's nothing else but complete silence. Jack and Rose are hanging for dear life on that raft and they're freezing to death. In an act of true love, Jack gets off the raft, dies of hypothermia, and sinks to oblivion so that Rose can live and eventually find and be saved by the people on the lifeboat.
...But there's always that "what if" scenario. What if that raft was a bit sturdier? What if it was a bit warmer? What if the lifeboat came sooner? Or rather, why let the Titanic sink in the first place? They could have just seen the iceberg sooner, steer away, and Rose and Jack would survive, find land, get married, and live happily ever after. The END.
But no, that's not how it works. It was based on real-life events, so obviously it has to be accurate to the nth degree (with some caveats). The ship was too big and going too fast to avoid it in time. The damage was too severe and there was no saving the vessel at all. They had mismanagement with the lifeboats, some leaving before they were even full. ~1500 people were going to die, and they couldn't do anything about it. And even though they proved that both Jack and Rose could both fit on top of the raft, the door wasn't sturdy enough to keep the both of them from freezing to death. They couldn't both live; one of them had to die.
It HAD to happen: Both logically and for the story to have drama.
That being said: How do you put a character through hell, even though you really don't want to? And I'm talking more than just a bad day at work. I'm talking about failing to save their loved ones, losing a family member to sickness, getting fired from their dream job, their home destroyed by a fire, getting tortured, being betrayed, etc. It's different from everyone, but you don't want the bad guys to win/bad things to happen and put your MC through immense shame and humiliation, but at same time, it would be boring if Mary Sue just painted her nails after swimming through freezing waters, finding a lifeboat, and saving tens of thousands of lives like it was Tuesday.
Conflict is necessary for the character and story to grow--it's a necessity and provides a reason why the story --but it also hurts doing so. How do you approach this?
submitted by Speedster012 to writing [link] [comments]
It's like the Titanic. The iceberg decided to be petty that night, the ship has been deep six'd in more ways than one, and everyone left behind is screaming until there's nothing else but complete silence. Jack and Rose are hanging for dear life on that raft and they're freezing to death. In an act of true love, Jack gets off the raft, dies of hypothermia, and sinks to oblivion so that Rose can live and eventually find and be saved by the people on the lifeboat.
...But there's always that "what if" scenario. What if that raft was a bit sturdier? What if it was a bit warmer? What if the lifeboat came sooner? Or rather, why let the Titanic sink in the first place? They could have just seen the iceberg sooner, steer away, and Rose and Jack would survive, find land, get married, and live happily ever after. The END.
But no, that's not how it works. It was based on real-life events, so obviously it has to be accurate to the nth degree (with some caveats). The ship was too big and going too fast to avoid it in time. The damage was too severe and there was no saving the vessel at all. They had mismanagement with the lifeboats, some leaving before they were even full. ~1500 people were going to die, and they couldn't do anything about it. And even though they proved that both Jack and Rose could both fit on top of the raft, the door wasn't sturdy enough to keep the both of them from freezing to death. They couldn't both live; one of them had to die.
It HAD to happen: Both logically and for the story to have drama.
That being said: How do you put a character through hell, even though you really don't want to? And I'm talking more than just a bad day at work. I'm talking about failing to save their loved ones, losing a family member to sickness, getting fired from their dream job, their home destroyed by a fire, getting tortured, being betrayed, etc. It's different from everyone, but you don't want the bad guys to win/bad things to happen and put your MC through immense shame and humiliation, but at same time, it would be boring if Mary Sue just painted her nails after swimming through freezing waters, finding a lifeboat, and saving tens of thousands of lives like it was Tuesday.
Conflict is necessary for the character and story to grow--it's a necessity and provides a reason why the story --but it also hurts doing so. How do you approach this?
2023.05.28 06:56 gothskies Am I in the wrong?
basically my roommate, (2 bedroom, 2 bath, just the two of us both 19f) has suddenly became literally unbearable.
some of the things she has done recently:
(also literally everything besides the stuff in her room is mine everything from the couch, tv, barstools, to the goddamn silverware, so she won’t have anything. not even a trash can.)
submitted by gothskies to badroommates [link] [comments]
some of the things she has done recently:
- stole 4/6 rolls of my toilet paper just to find out she had an entire 6 pack unopened under her sink.
- took my brand new unopened dry shampoo and used all of it.
- used my entire thc cartridge within a few days.
- caused me to pay $700 extra to cover her in rent and pay her late fees she caused while almost getting us evicted not because she didnt have the money for rent, but because she was too lazy to pay it. also she has no plan to pay me back at all. when brought up she said it wasn’t her fault as if i was the one who didn’t have rent on the first and i also had to cover her because she didn’t feel like dipping into her savings account (which has over 10k in it)
- had 6 people over after i told her i’d like to not have people over because i had to be up early and work a double the next day and security got called and we got a noise complaint due to them being so disrespectfully loud.
- eats my food constantly without asking and will leave 2 bites left in the fridge.
- left shattered glass all over the floor inches from my cats food.
- let her dishes mold in the sink. (i’m extremely allergic to mold and shes very aware of this)
- turns the heat to 85, HEAT, meanwhile its summer and mid 80’s outside where we live.
- broke my phone charger.
- decides to leave her rolled up dollar bills (ifykyk) all over to the point where i can’t even have my own mother come over because shes such a druggie it’s embarrassing
- also smokes weed inside after i’ve asked her 3 times now to do it on the balcony and will do it with all the doors and windows shut with my cats in the room.
(also literally everything besides the stuff in her room is mine everything from the couch, tv, barstools, to the goddamn silverware, so she won’t have anything. not even a trash can.)
2023.05.28 06:55 psyopticnerve Nothing Grows Here [Part 1}
"Nothing ever grows here."
This was a sentiment my father expressed often, referring to a particular plot on the east side of our property, murmuring the words bitterly. No matter what crops he planted there, no matter the attention he gave them, they would either wither and die or grow in a sickly, twisted fashion.
When I was young I watched him work the land and brought him food and water as the sun beat down upon us, dreading the day that he often told me would come- the day I was old enough to toil alongside him.
My interests were books, knowledge, the arts. Things they taught at school, and the more interesting topics I could learn about from Thomas, our neighbor who lived a mile down the road from us. Though he was several grades above me, Thomas was always kind, treating me as one would a younger sibling and entertaining my curiosities. It was from him that I found myself immersed in works of fiction and fantasy, things that my father would glance at and grimace.
"These things aren't meant for people like us, Leroy. No, we weren't dealt a hand to indulge ourselves in the luxury of idle pleasures for men who do not work with their hands."
He never said these things with a tone of anger or resentment, but rather in a measured way, meant to let me understand that he would derive no pleasure in keeping me from my interests or from walking to the school in a few short months. No, he said these things regretfully, wearily. He too, had once dreamed of a life away from his family's struggling farm. The only of his three siblings to survive adolescence, he chose to stay and aid my grandfather after my grandmother passed and he began succumbing to the bottle.
While my father never gave in to such vices, seeing him grow stiffer and harder of breath each day, I knew that I soon would assume the role he had once played for his father. And so I clung to my remaining days of freedom with a feverish fervor.
"...and it's entirely made of ice?" I asked, insistent and intrusive at Thomas's side.
"No, it's a continent covered by and surrounded by ice…" he replied distractedly, keeping his eyes on his book as we walked, "The, uh, Vikings found it I think… maybe the Spaniards. It's interesting though, no one owns Antarctica… Besides maybe the penguins."
"The Spanish find everything.”
“Mm. The Nazis went there too. My father told me.”
“Does he ever talk about the war?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from the page. His father, Sheriff Russell, patrolled Mt.Harmon with an efficiency that could only have been instilled by combat. Nothing ever happened in our sleepy little town, and he often seemed disappointed by this.
“Does yours?” Thomas replied.
“No. Mostly worries about the Russians these days. ”
“You’d think we’d be tired of war by now, wouldn’t you? And yet we continue to find new and horrifying ways to kill one another. Seems if we invent the weapons we’ll invent a reason to point them at someone.”
“Why do we keep making them then?”
“It’s profitable.”
There was a long pause between us. I decided to change the subject.
"What are you reading?"
"Frankenstein, or; The Modern Prometheus. It's by a woman named Mary Shelley. Gruesome throughout, it's about a monster created by a man who becomes a monster himself… You'd like it, I think. You can borrow it when I'm finished."
“How does one become a monster?”
“Inwardly. You’ll see when you read it. Conversely, the monster begins to appear more human.”
I pondered the meaning of what he had said and we neared a bend in the road. Thomas suddenly stopped in his tracks and dropped Frankenstein to his side. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinting at something through thick coniferous branches. I followed his gaze, finding nothing.
"Do you see that?"
"No…" I whispered. I followed his finger until I was able to see the camouflaged Great Horned Owl roosting there. Its sharp eyes were trained on us.
“How bizarre,” Thomas remarked.
“Not really. That’s one of the most common species of owl in this region.”
“It’s not bizarre that it’s here. It’s bizarre that it’s awake in daylight and that there are so many in one place.”
Taken aback, I realized the forest we were staring into was staring right back at us. Dozens of these owls were scattered throughout the trees.
“Incredible… Enjoy this moment, Leroy. We’ll never see anything like this again.”
We lingered for a while, soaking it in. After a silent agreement was reached that we had appreciated them sufficiently we turned away and journeyed on.
“You’re getting better with that,” I noted, watching my father adjust the radio’s dial to his favorite station. He often asked me to tune it for him.
“There is a part of me that still dislikes it greatly. Yet I find myself compelled. It doesn’t do us well to be uninformed.”
The broadcast spoke of the weather. The next week was to be warm, uncharacteristically so for this time of year. To this he grunted, “Figures.”
“How does that figure?”
“Maybe it doesn’t. But it gives me something to blame. Might as well be the weather.”
“And what do you blame on the weather?”
“Whatever you want. It’s the perfect scapegoat.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Let the cat out.”
I journeyed to the porch with the orange creature weaving itself between my feet. It wasn’t our cat, but it was here often enough for us to feel responsible for it. We weren’t sure who it belonged to, if anyone. It scampered out into the night, where a thick fog had settled over the grass. I listened to the chirping of crickets mingle with the muffled chatter of the radio while settling into a creaking rocking chair. The glow from the lamp inside gave off just enough light as I examined the cover before opening Frankenstein, flipping through to see what annotations Thomas had made in his scribbled, slanted way of expressing his thoughts between the printed lines. They always intrigued me as much as the original work. I smiled, returning to the first page.
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils…
“...Well, what did you think of Duck and Cover?”
Thomas was clearly excited to discuss the schoolwide atomic weapon safety protocol video we had been shown that morning. I was less than eager to reply. Practicing the drill had left me feeling ill.
“A desk would never save us from an explosion of that magnitude.”
“Clearly.”
“Why not build a bunker?”
Thomas laughed, “It costs money. Besides, would you want to be trapped in a bunker for years until the radiation decays? I’d rather die, frankly, than become a human sardine.”
“Valid…”
“If the government really wanted to make dealing with the aftermath convenient, they’d have us each dig our own grave beforehand. When the alarms blare we would simply lie down in them, and wait.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and mimed falling backwards.
I forced the resemblance of a chuckle out of a throat that had constricted.
“You don’t look well.”
“Why should I?” I turned to him, exasperated, “I don’t have a desk at home. Even the illusion of shelter might be nice.”
Thomas softened his voice, “I’m sorry, I was trying to make light of the absurdity of it all… I try not to mention that you’re leaving school. I force it from my mind so often that it sometimes slips away completely.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
“...Doesn’t it bother you? To know that there are decisions being made for us? Ones that we do not get a say in- like who to bomb, or being forced to hide under a desk in the face of certain death?” I could feel my eyes beginning to water.
“...Of course it does.”
“And yet you laugh about it?”
Thomas shrugged, “I try to. Sometimes that’s the only option left.”
“What was your reasoning in choosing a Chevrolet over a Ford?”
My father was patching a tire, I was pestering him while he worked in the barn.
“Truth be told, I could give a damn about brands, makes or models. They all drive, they all break down, they all require special attention to certain faulty components… I simply needed a truck, and this is the one I could afford the day I was buying.”
“So you don’t ever find yourself admiring a Ford?”
“Sure. The grass is always greener, as they say...”
“And as you say. That's an idiom you use often.”
“Perhaps. I’m a practicing pragmatist.”
“You consider yourself to be a pragmatist?”
“...Should I surmise from your tone that you disagree?"
“I… didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words.”
A pair of owls hooted rhythmically from somewhere to the east. He placed the tire back on the hub, giving me a stern look before winking at me as he began tightening the bolts to the rim. His point was made and my tongue was tied. He gave a curt nod at my concession and lowered the jack, running his hands across the repaired tread to make certain that no air was escaping. Once he was satisfied that it had been patched successfully he wiped them on his coveralls and stood up, grunting and groaning as his tired limbs protested just as loudly.
When he spoke again his voice had lost some of the sharpness it typically held, “There was another matter I wished to discuss with you before this task took precedence this evening”
“I’m all ears.”
“Tell that to the mouth you’re always running…” he chuckled softly, his usual gruff timbre still absent from this remark, “Leroy, I’ve decided to hire some help around here.”
I stared at him, sizing up the implication of what he’d said.
“Do you forget who manages your finances?” I asked, incredulous, knowing that we didn’t have a quarter to spare.
“That only adds to my point. You are a child, yet you understand these things as well, or perhaps even better, than I.”
“Indeed, which makes your statement even more foolish.”
The gruffness came back to his voice with his response.
“Not at all. There is hope for you yet. You haven’t made the poor decisions I have and tied yourself to this cursed piece of land… Nothing grows here. And what does is meager…”
“...Meaning that you will need my help to succeed.”
“Nonsense. You will be at school for the spring and the fall, and in the summer you will have chores. But I cannot bear keeping you here with me. I will hire help.”
There was a finality to what he had said. A weight had been simultaneously lifted from my shoulders and placed firmly in the air between us. Impenetrable and inarguable. I found my lips trembling.
“Were you ever happy here?”
My question took him aback. He regarded me for a while before he spoke, his voice once again lowered to a softer cadence and volume.
“...I suppose I was for a time. We told ourselves we would return home to a hero's welcome… To parades and medals and our loved ones. And we did… To all the fanfare and the admiration… For what we had done. Who we had killed. The enemy- young men just like us. Scared, tired, hungry, sick men that we were told to kill with distorted reasoning, manipulation, for fear of being called a coward or a traitor… Through similar methods they were coerced to do the same to us. At the end of the day, we were only ever trying to survive, no matter which uniform we wore.”
He leaned against the frame of the Chevy.
“So I was happy to survive… I was happy to return to my infant, my wife…” he sighed heavily, staring down at the ground, “And then she left us... She was not happy here.”
“We… Couldn’t we have gone with her?”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that, Leroy… She was- is- a spirit meant to be free. She would have never been happy with us. Perhaps I was a fool for ever thinking that she could be…”
I had never heard him speak of her this frankly. I could see his eyes sadden as memories of their time together flashed through his mind. I nearly regretted broaching the subject.
“She was- she is- a good woman, in her own way,” he concluded, looking back at me.
“...And you are a great man,” I told him.
He rubbed his face with his sleeve, quickly concealing the mist forming in his eyes from my sight. When he lowered his arm he was once again composed.
“And you are a great son, Leroy.”
The next morning Thomas was not waiting on the porch for me on the way to school as usual. Instead I was greeted by Sheriff Russell after I knocked on the screen door. Seeing him dressed in a robe and slippers instead of his uniform was oddly disorienting.
"Good morning, Leroy. I'm afraid Thomas has had a fever through the night. His mother believes it best for him to stay in bed for the day. Just getting over mine," he added, seeming to feel the need to justify his attire.
"Oh, well pass it along to him that I hope he feels better soon."
"I'll do that, I'll do just that..." Russell yawned, coffee mug in hand. The sound of bare feet bounding down the steps came from inside and Thomas appeared, looking pale and tired.
“Young man, you ought to be resting!” Darcy poked her head around the corner to half-heartedly scold him.
“I’ll go back up in a minute, Ma, relax!”
Russell scowled at him.
“Did Pop show you this?” he asked, grabbing something off of the kitchen table and pressing it against the screen for me to see.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Only if you believe it to be a Geiger counter."
“I figured we ought to have a few at the station in case we… Well, you never know these days,” Russell said grimly, “They’ve been giving off odd readings though.”
“Have they been calibrated?”
“Do you really think I didn’t zero them in?” Thomas answered before his father could speak.
“It’s just a question… Were they stored with packets of desiccant? Have you made certain that the ionization chambers have not rusted? That the welds are intact? They will be useless if any air gets inside.”
Thomas looked toward Russell to reply.
“I… don’t know. Well, Leroy, Thomas always told me you were sharp,” Russell said, seeming to have gone from seeing me as a child to an equal in that moment. Darcy reappeared around the corner.
“Thomas, get back in your room and rest!”
He grimaced at her.
“I’ll be better in a day or two,” he grumbled, “I’ll see you then.”
“Feel better. Good to see you, Sheriff,” I said, turning to depart.
“One moment, Leroy,” he called, and I returned to the porch, “Have you ever been to the library in Augusta?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been to Augusta at all.”
“You don’t say? Well, with as much as the two of you read, it occurs to me that it would be a worthy pilgrimage to make. What do you say we all take a trip down once we’ve recovered? I imagine they have a few books in the capitol library that you could never find in our little town.”
“I… I’d love to, Sheriff,” I murmured, flustered by this act of kindness, “I’ll… I’ll ask my father.”
“Good man. And Leroy, you may call me Russell,” he smiled.
This was the night that the monster visited me.
It waited until my sheets were soaked in cold sweat and my teeth chattered uncontrollably to make itself known.
It rose out of the darkness, a form that slowly took shape out of billowing shadow. And then it was before me. Massive. Cadaverous. Its suppurating flesh crudely sewn together in multicolored patches.
But worse was its grin. Something so hideous was not meant to express the joy it conveyed from the cruelty of its intentions. Blackened teeth and bloodshot eyes bore into my very essence as the form of Mary Shelley's literary creation was brought to fruition before me. The scream in my lungs would not release itself. It felt as if a great weight had settled over my throat and ribs.
But no, it was the screaming in my ears that made the tapestry of my nightmare begin to fray.
My eyes shot open and the tethers of sleep paralysis released their grip on my limbs.
There it was once more, shrill and agonized, the sound of something suffering in the throes of its final moments before death.
I was on my feet. My door slammed against the wall. My father's door was already open. As I careened down the hallway I was just able to make out his silhouette, a shotgun in his hands.
"Stay here, Leroy," he barked.
A change had come over him. He was no longer the stiff-limbed, patient father I knew. His posture straightened, his voice was callous. He burst into the night, once more a soldier storming into battle. Even in my panic I could not help being awed by the transformation I had witnessed.
A shot fired…
And another.
Then a complete and deafening silence.
I crept to the door, pushing it open just enough to peer out. An impermeable fog clung to the air, making it impossible to make out anything past the porch.
"F-father?"
My toes were on the top step now, slowly inching their way to the damp grass.
Still. Silent.
"Dad?!"
The owls began hooting and the crickets started up their chatter once more. Altogether, the creatures around seemed to release a breath they had held collectively. Even the fog relinquished its grip on my vision.
I could just make out his slumped form. My feet slapped against the cold earth as I sprinted my way toward him, anticipating the worst.
"Dad, are you okay? Dad!"
Then he was on his feet once more, gripping me by the waist and hoisting me up.
"There is nothing for you to see, Leroy... Nothing at all. Close your eyes, son. Please, close your eyes…"
Despite the desperation and sincerity in his voice my curiosity got the better of me. I squinted through my eyelids, just able to make out the pile of scattered limbs through my lashes. I forced bile back down my throat and clenched my eyes tightly, shocked to find myself wishing to return to the nightmare that had awoke me.
submitted by psyopticnerve to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
This was a sentiment my father expressed often, referring to a particular plot on the east side of our property, murmuring the words bitterly. No matter what crops he planted there, no matter the attention he gave them, they would either wither and die or grow in a sickly, twisted fashion.
When I was young I watched him work the land and brought him food and water as the sun beat down upon us, dreading the day that he often told me would come- the day I was old enough to toil alongside him.
My interests were books, knowledge, the arts. Things they taught at school, and the more interesting topics I could learn about from Thomas, our neighbor who lived a mile down the road from us. Though he was several grades above me, Thomas was always kind, treating me as one would a younger sibling and entertaining my curiosities. It was from him that I found myself immersed in works of fiction and fantasy, things that my father would glance at and grimace.
"These things aren't meant for people like us, Leroy. No, we weren't dealt a hand to indulge ourselves in the luxury of idle pleasures for men who do not work with their hands."
He never said these things with a tone of anger or resentment, but rather in a measured way, meant to let me understand that he would derive no pleasure in keeping me from my interests or from walking to the school in a few short months. No, he said these things regretfully, wearily. He too, had once dreamed of a life away from his family's struggling farm. The only of his three siblings to survive adolescence, he chose to stay and aid my grandfather after my grandmother passed and he began succumbing to the bottle.
While my father never gave in to such vices, seeing him grow stiffer and harder of breath each day, I knew that I soon would assume the role he had once played for his father. And so I clung to my remaining days of freedom with a feverish fervor.
"...and it's entirely made of ice?" I asked, insistent and intrusive at Thomas's side.
"No, it's a continent covered by and surrounded by ice…" he replied distractedly, keeping his eyes on his book as we walked, "The, uh, Vikings found it I think… maybe the Spaniards. It's interesting though, no one owns Antarctica… Besides maybe the penguins."
"The Spanish find everything.”
“Mm. The Nazis went there too. My father told me.”
“Does he ever talk about the war?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from the page. His father, Sheriff Russell, patrolled Mt.Harmon with an efficiency that could only have been instilled by combat. Nothing ever happened in our sleepy little town, and he often seemed disappointed by this.
“Does yours?” Thomas replied.
“No. Mostly worries about the Russians these days. ”
“You’d think we’d be tired of war by now, wouldn’t you? And yet we continue to find new and horrifying ways to kill one another. Seems if we invent the weapons we’ll invent a reason to point them at someone.”
“Why do we keep making them then?”
“It’s profitable.”
There was a long pause between us. I decided to change the subject.
"What are you reading?"
"Frankenstein, or; The Modern Prometheus. It's by a woman named Mary Shelley. Gruesome throughout, it's about a monster created by a man who becomes a monster himself… You'd like it, I think. You can borrow it when I'm finished."
“How does one become a monster?”
“Inwardly. You’ll see when you read it. Conversely, the monster begins to appear more human.”
I pondered the meaning of what he had said and we neared a bend in the road. Thomas suddenly stopped in his tracks and dropped Frankenstein to his side. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinting at something through thick coniferous branches. I followed his gaze, finding nothing.
"Do you see that?"
"No…" I whispered. I followed his finger until I was able to see the camouflaged Great Horned Owl roosting there. Its sharp eyes were trained on us.
“How bizarre,” Thomas remarked.
“Not really. That’s one of the most common species of owl in this region.”
“It’s not bizarre that it’s here. It’s bizarre that it’s awake in daylight and that there are so many in one place.”
Taken aback, I realized the forest we were staring into was staring right back at us. Dozens of these owls were scattered throughout the trees.
“Incredible… Enjoy this moment, Leroy. We’ll never see anything like this again.”
We lingered for a while, soaking it in. After a silent agreement was reached that we had appreciated them sufficiently we turned away and journeyed on.
“You’re getting better with that,” I noted, watching my father adjust the radio’s dial to his favorite station. He often asked me to tune it for him.
“There is a part of me that still dislikes it greatly. Yet I find myself compelled. It doesn’t do us well to be uninformed.”
The broadcast spoke of the weather. The next week was to be warm, uncharacteristically so for this time of year. To this he grunted, “Figures.”
“How does that figure?”
“Maybe it doesn’t. But it gives me something to blame. Might as well be the weather.”
“And what do you blame on the weather?”
“Whatever you want. It’s the perfect scapegoat.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Let the cat out.”
I journeyed to the porch with the orange creature weaving itself between my feet. It wasn’t our cat, but it was here often enough for us to feel responsible for it. We weren’t sure who it belonged to, if anyone. It scampered out into the night, where a thick fog had settled over the grass. I listened to the chirping of crickets mingle with the muffled chatter of the radio while settling into a creaking rocking chair. The glow from the lamp inside gave off just enough light as I examined the cover before opening Frankenstein, flipping through to see what annotations Thomas had made in his scribbled, slanted way of expressing his thoughts between the printed lines. They always intrigued me as much as the original work. I smiled, returning to the first page.
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils…
“...Well, what did you think of Duck and Cover?”
Thomas was clearly excited to discuss the schoolwide atomic weapon safety protocol video we had been shown that morning. I was less than eager to reply. Practicing the drill had left me feeling ill.
“A desk would never save us from an explosion of that magnitude.”
“Clearly.”
“Why not build a bunker?”
Thomas laughed, “It costs money. Besides, would you want to be trapped in a bunker for years until the radiation decays? I’d rather die, frankly, than become a human sardine.”
“Valid…”
“If the government really wanted to make dealing with the aftermath convenient, they’d have us each dig our own grave beforehand. When the alarms blare we would simply lie down in them, and wait.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and mimed falling backwards.
I forced the resemblance of a chuckle out of a throat that had constricted.
“You don’t look well.”
“Why should I?” I turned to him, exasperated, “I don’t have a desk at home. Even the illusion of shelter might be nice.”
Thomas softened his voice, “I’m sorry, I was trying to make light of the absurdity of it all… I try not to mention that you’re leaving school. I force it from my mind so often that it sometimes slips away completely.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
“...Doesn’t it bother you? To know that there are decisions being made for us? Ones that we do not get a say in- like who to bomb, or being forced to hide under a desk in the face of certain death?” I could feel my eyes beginning to water.
“...Of course it does.”
“And yet you laugh about it?”
Thomas shrugged, “I try to. Sometimes that’s the only option left.”
“What was your reasoning in choosing a Chevrolet over a Ford?”
My father was patching a tire, I was pestering him while he worked in the barn.
“Truth be told, I could give a damn about brands, makes or models. They all drive, they all break down, they all require special attention to certain faulty components… I simply needed a truck, and this is the one I could afford the day I was buying.”
“So you don’t ever find yourself admiring a Ford?”
“Sure. The grass is always greener, as they say...”
“And as you say. That's an idiom you use often.”
“Perhaps. I’m a practicing pragmatist.”
“You consider yourself to be a pragmatist?”
“...Should I surmise from your tone that you disagree?"
“I… didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words.”
A pair of owls hooted rhythmically from somewhere to the east. He placed the tire back on the hub, giving me a stern look before winking at me as he began tightening the bolts to the rim. His point was made and my tongue was tied. He gave a curt nod at my concession and lowered the jack, running his hands across the repaired tread to make certain that no air was escaping. Once he was satisfied that it had been patched successfully he wiped them on his coveralls and stood up, grunting and groaning as his tired limbs protested just as loudly.
When he spoke again his voice had lost some of the sharpness it typically held, “There was another matter I wished to discuss with you before this task took precedence this evening”
“I’m all ears.”
“Tell that to the mouth you’re always running…” he chuckled softly, his usual gruff timbre still absent from this remark, “Leroy, I’ve decided to hire some help around here.”
I stared at him, sizing up the implication of what he’d said.
“Do you forget who manages your finances?” I asked, incredulous, knowing that we didn’t have a quarter to spare.
“That only adds to my point. You are a child, yet you understand these things as well, or perhaps even better, than I.”
“Indeed, which makes your statement even more foolish.”
The gruffness came back to his voice with his response.
“Not at all. There is hope for you yet. You haven’t made the poor decisions I have and tied yourself to this cursed piece of land… Nothing grows here. And what does is meager…”
“...Meaning that you will need my help to succeed.”
“Nonsense. You will be at school for the spring and the fall, and in the summer you will have chores. But I cannot bear keeping you here with me. I will hire help.”
There was a finality to what he had said. A weight had been simultaneously lifted from my shoulders and placed firmly in the air between us. Impenetrable and inarguable. I found my lips trembling.
“Were you ever happy here?”
My question took him aback. He regarded me for a while before he spoke, his voice once again lowered to a softer cadence and volume.
“...I suppose I was for a time. We told ourselves we would return home to a hero's welcome… To parades and medals and our loved ones. And we did… To all the fanfare and the admiration… For what we had done. Who we had killed. The enemy- young men just like us. Scared, tired, hungry, sick men that we were told to kill with distorted reasoning, manipulation, for fear of being called a coward or a traitor… Through similar methods they were coerced to do the same to us. At the end of the day, we were only ever trying to survive, no matter which uniform we wore.”
He leaned against the frame of the Chevy.
“So I was happy to survive… I was happy to return to my infant, my wife…” he sighed heavily, staring down at the ground, “And then she left us... She was not happy here.”
“We… Couldn’t we have gone with her?”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that, Leroy… She was- is- a spirit meant to be free. She would have never been happy with us. Perhaps I was a fool for ever thinking that she could be…”
I had never heard him speak of her this frankly. I could see his eyes sadden as memories of their time together flashed through his mind. I nearly regretted broaching the subject.
“She was- she is- a good woman, in her own way,” he concluded, looking back at me.
“...And you are a great man,” I told him.
He rubbed his face with his sleeve, quickly concealing the mist forming in his eyes from my sight. When he lowered his arm he was once again composed.
“And you are a great son, Leroy.”
The next morning Thomas was not waiting on the porch for me on the way to school as usual. Instead I was greeted by Sheriff Russell after I knocked on the screen door. Seeing him dressed in a robe and slippers instead of his uniform was oddly disorienting.
"Good morning, Leroy. I'm afraid Thomas has had a fever through the night. His mother believes it best for him to stay in bed for the day. Just getting over mine," he added, seeming to feel the need to justify his attire.
"Oh, well pass it along to him that I hope he feels better soon."
"I'll do that, I'll do just that..." Russell yawned, coffee mug in hand. The sound of bare feet bounding down the steps came from inside and Thomas appeared, looking pale and tired.
“Young man, you ought to be resting!” Darcy poked her head around the corner to half-heartedly scold him.
“I’ll go back up in a minute, Ma, relax!”
Russell scowled at him.
“Did Pop show you this?” he asked, grabbing something off of the kitchen table and pressing it against the screen for me to see.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Only if you believe it to be a Geiger counter."
“I figured we ought to have a few at the station in case we… Well, you never know these days,” Russell said grimly, “They’ve been giving off odd readings though.”
“Have they been calibrated?”
“Do you really think I didn’t zero them in?” Thomas answered before his father could speak.
“It’s just a question… Were they stored with packets of desiccant? Have you made certain that the ionization chambers have not rusted? That the welds are intact? They will be useless if any air gets inside.”
Thomas looked toward Russell to reply.
“I… don’t know. Well, Leroy, Thomas always told me you were sharp,” Russell said, seeming to have gone from seeing me as a child to an equal in that moment. Darcy reappeared around the corner.
“Thomas, get back in your room and rest!”
He grimaced at her.
“I’ll be better in a day or two,” he grumbled, “I’ll see you then.”
“Feel better. Good to see you, Sheriff,” I said, turning to depart.
“One moment, Leroy,” he called, and I returned to the porch, “Have you ever been to the library in Augusta?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been to Augusta at all.”
“You don’t say? Well, with as much as the two of you read, it occurs to me that it would be a worthy pilgrimage to make. What do you say we all take a trip down once we’ve recovered? I imagine they have a few books in the capitol library that you could never find in our little town.”
“I… I’d love to, Sheriff,” I murmured, flustered by this act of kindness, “I’ll… I’ll ask my father.”
“Good man. And Leroy, you may call me Russell,” he smiled.
This was the night that the monster visited me.
It waited until my sheets were soaked in cold sweat and my teeth chattered uncontrollably to make itself known.
It rose out of the darkness, a form that slowly took shape out of billowing shadow. And then it was before me. Massive. Cadaverous. Its suppurating flesh crudely sewn together in multicolored patches.
But worse was its grin. Something so hideous was not meant to express the joy it conveyed from the cruelty of its intentions. Blackened teeth and bloodshot eyes bore into my very essence as the form of Mary Shelley's literary creation was brought to fruition before me. The scream in my lungs would not release itself. It felt as if a great weight had settled over my throat and ribs.
But no, it was the screaming in my ears that made the tapestry of my nightmare begin to fray.
My eyes shot open and the tethers of sleep paralysis released their grip on my limbs.
There it was once more, shrill and agonized, the sound of something suffering in the throes of its final moments before death.
I was on my feet. My door slammed against the wall. My father's door was already open. As I careened down the hallway I was just able to make out his silhouette, a shotgun in his hands.
"Stay here, Leroy," he barked.
A change had come over him. He was no longer the stiff-limbed, patient father I knew. His posture straightened, his voice was callous. He burst into the night, once more a soldier storming into battle. Even in my panic I could not help being awed by the transformation I had witnessed.
A shot fired…
And another.
Then a complete and deafening silence.
I crept to the door, pushing it open just enough to peer out. An impermeable fog clung to the air, making it impossible to make out anything past the porch.
"F-father?"
My toes were on the top step now, slowly inching their way to the damp grass.
Still. Silent.
"Dad?!"
The owls began hooting and the crickets started up their chatter once more. Altogether, the creatures around seemed to release a breath they had held collectively. Even the fog relinquished its grip on my vision.
I could just make out his slumped form. My feet slapped against the cold earth as I sprinted my way toward him, anticipating the worst.
"Dad, are you okay? Dad!"
Then he was on his feet once more, gripping me by the waist and hoisting me up.
"There is nothing for you to see, Leroy... Nothing at all. Close your eyes, son. Please, close your eyes…"
Despite the desperation and sincerity in his voice my curiosity got the better of me. I squinted through my eyelids, just able to make out the pile of scattered limbs through my lashes. I forced bile back down my throat and clenched my eyes tightly, shocked to find myself wishing to return to the nightmare that had awoke me.
2023.05.28 06:50 Ak_Tasha 1 series pre vs. post facelift
recently i've been in the market for some new mirror glass for my 128i. i've been looking at the euro-spec blue tinted with convex and aspherical on both sides. Only problem is that it says its only for 2010 and back. pre facelift. now my car is a 2011 128i but the badge inside the door jam says 08/10. I've done a vin decoder and it really didn't tell me anything in regards to whether or not there is a real difference in the glass shape or glass backing in regards to the mirror. can anyone help???
submitted by Ak_Tasha to e82 [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 06:48 Toothlessboiiii My friend got sent to a juvenile prison and I haven't seen him since
I haven't told anyone this story and I really needed to tell people about this. This takes place in my old ballet classes where every one there was messed up in some way. The kids there had parents with divorce, forced to be child models, parents neglecting them and much more.
The production was called Tera. It was about forgivness and rage portrayed in a play like format. It was run by 1 teacher and 2 parents. In total there was about 20 kids there. My friend who got sent to juvenile prison was a very good kid. His mother was a sever alcoholic getting drunk in her car which ended up in him having to walk home and his father was out of the picture. We became very good friend ever since i got there. He hasn't been to school since the 5th grade. School wasn't a fit for him and his mother didn't do anything to get him there.
He was a natural at Ballet, it was graceful. We shared a lot with each other and bonded over that. every time there was a show we would hang out backstage and just talk. Over time the production became super money hungry, forcing kids to come to work all day and when there was a storm and all the trains shut down they were insisting that we performed. After that I left and I lost contact with all my friends and I haven't seen them.
A year later I received news that he got sent to juvenile prison. Apparently he got in a fight with his mother. She was drunk and it escalated to the point where she called the cops on him. He was removed from the home and got sent away. After a year in juvenile prison he got sent to a care center later. It seems like a very good home that cares about the kids they have so I don't think I need to worry. There is no way to contact him or meet him as his location isn't shared to his friends. I really miss him and I hope he's doing good there. Keep in touch with your friend and cherish the time you have with them.
submitted by Toothlessboiiii to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
The production was called Tera. It was about forgivness and rage portrayed in a play like format. It was run by 1 teacher and 2 parents. In total there was about 20 kids there. My friend who got sent to juvenile prison was a very good kid. His mother was a sever alcoholic getting drunk in her car which ended up in him having to walk home and his father was out of the picture. We became very good friend ever since i got there. He hasn't been to school since the 5th grade. School wasn't a fit for him and his mother didn't do anything to get him there.
He was a natural at Ballet, it was graceful. We shared a lot with each other and bonded over that. every time there was a show we would hang out backstage and just talk. Over time the production became super money hungry, forcing kids to come to work all day and when there was a storm and all the trains shut down they were insisting that we performed. After that I left and I lost contact with all my friends and I haven't seen them.
A year later I received news that he got sent to juvenile prison. Apparently he got in a fight with his mother. She was drunk and it escalated to the point where she called the cops on him. He was removed from the home and got sent away. After a year in juvenile prison he got sent to a care center later. It seems like a very good home that cares about the kids they have so I don't think I need to worry. There is no way to contact him or meet him as his location isn't shared to his friends. I really miss him and I hope he's doing good there. Keep in touch with your friend and cherish the time you have with them.
2023.05.28 06:34 bimbo_wannabe_ [I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 5: The Dead Are Especially Nosy Down Here
![[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 5: The Dead Are Especially Nosy Down Here](https://preview.redd.it/zkaxtarwkj2b1.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=8b33a651493fb05e79994bff658fc34e98166e4e "[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 5: The Dead Are Especially Nosy Down Here") | Previous Part: https://www.reddit.com/redditserials/comments/13sxdo9/i_accidentally_joined_the_mafia_in_south_brooklyn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button submitted by bimbo_wannabe_ to redditserials [link] [comments] These last few parts have taken a lot longer for me to write than I thought. A lot of shit has gone down in the last two months, and a lot of it, frankly, is kind of a blur. But I figure, if you've stuck with me this long, then you deserve to know how it all ended up so I'm going to try my best to remember every detail of what happened. Me? I've spent every free hour I've had, just lying in bed. I've got a lot of healed wounds that still hurt me pretty damned badly. Blood loss from multiple gunshot wounds and then drowning in the East River, dying and then being brought back while still human, incidentally, takes a lot out of a guy. But… I'm getting way ahead of myself. Where were we, again? Oh yeah, that's right. The funeral without caskets, inside of a Ukrainian restaurant just off the boardwalk in Brighton Beach. That's where I left off at. ()()() Antoni's corpse and I had spoken together for a while longer, about Beccs and their baby, actually, sitting there in the floor in front of the three empty bathroom stalls. The next moment, as usual, he was… just gone. It took a while to slow the bleeding, and it took even longer to try and clean myself up with just hand soap and paper towels and the water from the sink. Nobody came into the bathroom again, and as I left, I saw why. There was a sign on the door that read 'Out of Order' with something printed below it in Cyrillic that I imagined probably said the same thing as the English. My new winter coat had been left on the floor in front of the door and the Emergency Exit at the end of the hall had its alarm disabled and had been left propped open with a brick. I took that as a clear message that they didn't want me rejoining the party, so I exited into the alley and sat on a milk crate chain-smoking until 2 PM when the funeral ended. The weather app on my phone said it was 10 degrees outside, but oddly enough the cold air felt soothing on my bruised face. My eyes were nearly swollen shut, and every now and again I had to pull some of the toilet paper out that I'd stuffed in my pocket to wipe another trickle of blood from my nose when I sniffed a little too hard and moved the clots loose. At 1:57, I started to hear people exiting the restaurant, so I moved onto the sidewalk to wait for Becca. The people leaving the funeral only glanced at me for a second and then looked away with a bored expression, like I wasn't even there. Finally, only Becca and Toni's immediate family were still inside. Tatiana gave Becca a hug, Igor, a gentle handshake, and Antoni Sr. bent down, cupped his hands around Becca's face and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. I could see that his right hand was bandaged and he was holding it straighter than his left. Good. I hoped the fucker had broken it when he'd punched me in the jaw. As Becca exited, I could tell she was angry even before she stomped over to me and shoved me three times in quick succession. Like Jimmy, Becca was a lot stronger than she looked, but now I knew why. I couldn't do much but ball up and take the hits. "Where the fuck did you go? You just took off and left me there by myself. 'He wouldn't have left without saying goodbye if he had a choice.' You knew, you cocksucker, you knew, you knew he was dead!" "Yeah, I knew! Antoni was in the news. But we gotta get the fuck out of here, Beccs, you're making a scene, another one, and I gotta get outta this neighborhood before something worse happens to me." The high color of anger in her cheeks dropped away immediately into a pallid white. She'd been so pissed she'd never once registered the state of my face. "Jesus Christ, Tony, what the fuck happened to you?" "Your little Polish sausage's Daddy Dearest just beat the fuck out of me in the men's bathroom, that's what the fuck happened." "Why would he do that?" Becca asked, but I didn't answer. She looked back to Skovorodka, following my gaze. Antoni Sr. was still standing there, just inside the front door, watching me with narrowed eyes, his hands folded neatly behind his back like a soldier at ease. It reminded me a lot of how Antoni used to stand while we were waiting for the train together. "Fuck," she muttered, then "Shit," and grabbed me by the arm. "Come on." "Why would he do that?" She asked me again as we climbed the stairs to the train platform. "Antoni was Mob, Becca, Bratva. His whole goddamned family is. Him and his brothers and his father and his fucking Russian uncle, and I'd say your Mama Tatiana probably isn't in the dark about what her brother and her hubby and his sons do to make a living, either. I don't know why the Zabrowskas were on the Avenue, but suffice to say it was probably for nefarious reasons, and Jimmy found out about it and took care of business. "Only I don't think he realized exactly who he was taking out at the time he did it, or else he never would have put the body in the River for somebody to find. And then the other three showed up to avenge their brother, only two of 'em never made it past Bianchi any farther than Antoni did." "The fuck are you trying to say?" Her tone says she already understands just fine and doesn't want to. "I'm saying your dear sweet Mamma killed your boyfriend, Becca. She removed all the identifying marks from his body, ate what she wanted, then pulled all his teeth out and chewed off his hands and his feet. They dumped the body in the East River and they found him about 5 days ago, floating off of Battery Park." "Oh God. That's why. I asked Tatiana where Antoni was going to be buried and she told me in the public cemetery on Hart Island. They're not claiming the body because they don't wanna go to the cops. For the last week I been cussing him for everything he was worth, and he's been laying in the fucking morgue." She pressed her hand to her mouth, and I saw her bloodshot eyes filling with tears again. "Please don't cry, Becca, cause I'm gonna start crying again and I've cried enough for today." She sniffed back her tears and swallowed hard. "But I don't understand, Tony, what the fuck does that have to do with you?" "They knew, Beccs, they knew how the Zabrowskas died, who killed them, and they knew I helped Moretti get rid of the bodies afterwards. That's why Antoni's father went after me. The uh… the fucking Pakhan thought Jimmy sent me there to rub it in their faces that they weren't going to be able to bury any of their boys." "How the fuck would they know that?" She barked at me. "Somebody's feeding them information and not some asshole on the street, somebody from inside the Camorra." "Who would do that?" I saw her eyes darting about wildly as she tried to think of the answer to her own question. "I don't know, uh, the driver that brought Moretti, he didn't look like he was too fond of Bianchi, maybe he's a fucking option." "Frankie? I mean, him and Ma have never gotten along. He's never liked her and the feeling's mutual but… that doesn't make any sense, Frankie's always been loyal to the Camorra. Rossi always said he practically muttered the Omerta in his fucking sleep, that he was a soldato down to the bones." "I have no idea, Becca, but it gets worse," I said quietly. If it didn't hurt so goddamned bad, I would've squeezed my eyes shut. "How the fuck could it possibly get worse, Tony?" "First you gotta promise you're not gonna hit me again." Her hand balled into a fist, and I couldn't help but flinch. "I'm gonna knock you the fuck out right now if you don't stop wasting my time, Cipriani." "I sold her out, Becca. Bianchi. I told them where she lives and how to find her tonight." "You what!?" "I had to! He was gonna cut my fucking fingers off, and I don't know if he was going to take all four or just three but I wasn't about to fucking find out. I kind of need those fingers seeing as I'm a fucking southpaw!" I held my left hand out to her, curled my fingers inward, but the third finger just… stayed straight. "Ah, fuck, I didn't even notice that." "Jesus Christ, the tendon's been cut," she whispered, and when she pressed her hand to her mouth again she looked less like she was swallowing back tears and more like she was trying to swallow back vomit. I couldn't really blame her. I felt pretty nauseous myself. "You know, I'm, I'm not worried about Ma," she said, finally. "It wouldn't be the first time somebody's tried to take her out. She's harder to kill than they think." "Would, uh, would cutting her head off work? Cause if so I think they're already pretty aware of how to get the job done. They… they know Bianchi's not human, Becca." Her face got paler, if that was even possible, and her eyes were the size of saucers. "This is a goddamn nuclear disaster. Jesus fuck." We stood the last few minutes waiting for the train in silence. As the doors slid shut and we sat down, Becca began laughing wildly. "So you're in hysterics for real, huh?" I asked. "You're gonna have to forgive me, I'm a little slow on the uptake today, but I just got it, Polish sausage… only, he wasn't little, you know, he was hung like a fucking horse, and it's a goddamn tragedy for women everywhere that the man isn't on this earth anymore. And he knew how to use it, too. Best sex I ever had in my life… only sex I ever had in my life, but that's not the fucking point." A short, barking sob tore out of her. I groaned. "You know, that is way, way more information than I ever wanted to know about you and Antoni's sex life. You couldn't, uh, you couldn't let that one pass by, huh?" "I never pass up the opportunity to make a good dick joke. And he had Good Dick." I laughed and regretted it as it tightened muscles in my stomach that were still a little angry about being used as Antoni Sr's personal punching bag. "Touché, Miss Rebecca, touché." "The two-faced bastard, I gotta give the motherfucker that much, you know, it's a uniquely personal way to say Fuck You to the Underboss, getting his teenaged daughter pregnant. I am so, so goddamned tired of being a pawn in other people's games. He's lucky he's already dead or I'd kill the bitch myself," she whispered. "It wasn't a game, Becca, what happened between you and Antoni," I whispered back. I knew because Antoni's corpse had told me as much. "Don't ask me how I know, cause I don't wanna talk about it, but it wasn't a game. You didn't know about him and he didn't know about you and it was a big, fucked up coincidence. You loved him, and he really, truly loved you... he worshiped the ground you walked on." Actually, he had said he worshiped the boots she walked in, but I figured it was a translation issue. "It was a regular old Romeo and Juliet: Brooklyn Edition." She squeezed her eyes shut, snorted and at the same time choked on another sob. "Yeah, but Romeo and Juliet ended in a double suicide, not a murder and a single mother." Her tiny hand went to her mouth again, and she wasn't able to hold back the tears this time. "I miss him, Tony, I miss him so fucking much." "You know, Beccs, I miss him, too." I miss him when he was alive, not looking like a walking nightmare, and talking my goddamned ear off half the time, but I wasn't about to tell her that. "He was the first friend I made down here." "It's fucking stupid. I still remember every single thing he said to me those first few times I met him." "Odd as it is, I do too, Beccs. He was that kind of guy, I guess, he didn't have to work hard to make an impression on people. It was, uh, three days after I moved in, I think. I was in the basement, getting ready to do my laundry that morning, fighting with the stuck knob on that machine down at the end? And he walks in with his clothes basket balanced on his hip and reaches past me and just… turned the fucking thing, like it wasn't even stuck to begin with. 'It has an attitude, but it likes me,' he says, and I say, 'I can see that.' "And he, he told me his name. 'Zabrowska,' he says, 'Antoni.' And I laughed and said, 'Nice to meet you, Toni, I'm Tony.' 'Really?' he says, and I say 'Yeah. Really. Antonio Alessio Gioele Cipriani, the third, if you please.'" "Goddamn, that name is painfully Italian. No wonder you tell everybody 'Just call me Tony,'" Becca snorted. "Thank you, Miss Rebecca, I can assure you I didn't pick it myself. But, 'Ah,' Toni says and kind of taps his hand in the center of his chest, 'Junior.' And I laughed again and said 'Our parents were goddamned creative when it came to the baby naming, right?' And he laughed, too, and shook my hand. "And uh, a few days after that he showed up outside of my apartment and asked me if I wanted to go watch a game with him and his brothers at the sports bar down the street. It was Poland vs Korea. I still don't know shit about soccer, I've always been more of an American football kind of guy, but I did learn quite a few Polish swear words that day. Apparently they'd all bet money on the home team winning that game." "I bet you did. Poland kept catching red cards that whole game. I bet on Korea, of course, and altogether I won 8 grand from four extremely pissed off Polish dudes when we stomped their ass all over the pitch. I had no idea how seriously the four of them took soccer. Antoni wouldn't even talk to me for three days. Probably didn't help I made an ass of myself laughing at all of them. Course, I woulda bet more if I'd known they were good for it. Dry cleaners, my ass," Becca spat. "Well, in Antoni's defense, he probably did work at a dry cleaners like he told us, just like you work at a bodega, and Jimmy and me work at a restaurant, and Pops works at a hardware store. We all got day jobs. You know, I hate to bust your balls, Becca, but did it… never occur to you to ask Antoni if the tattoos meant something?" "No," she said weakly. "I mean, I knew they were prison tats but Jesus Christ, half the people I know have been to prison. You've been to prison, half of my cousins have been to prison, hell, Pops has been to prison. You weren't here then, but all of 2016 to 2020 I was wearing a 'Free Rossi' t-shirt everyday, a lot of people in this neighborhood did. Ma got him off on the Murder 1 charges but numbers are numbers, and she couldn't get him out of the Tax Evasion. But I figured, if Antoni didn't wanna talk about it, then it was none of my business what had happened before we met each other." She'd minded her own business a little too hard this time. "What did you and Antoni talk about, Becca?" "Everything! And anything, and nothing, all at the same time. He'd complain about living with his brothers, about Misiu always leaving hair all over the bathroom, and how Ciech always left sugar all over the kitchen counter after he made his coffee. And I'd complain about having to pick up all the empty bottles of makgeolli after my Dad in the morning. I'd help him wash all the dishes his dirty ass brothers would leave piled in the sink, and fold everybody's clothes. "We got along well, me and Antoni, we were actually very compatible, we were both neat freaks when it came to our housekeeping. We even folded our towels the same way. And he'd bitch about how Igor could never balance the register correctly at the end of the day, and I'd bitch about how my Dad never checked our invoices correctly, and I was always having to cuss out the distribution reps for shorting us on our deliveries myself. "And we'd watch TV together. He always made fun of me for the lame ass old Chuck Lorre sitcoms I loved to watch, and I'd make fun of him for all the stupid cop dramas he watched, every Law and Order known to man, and Blue Bloods and shit. We just… talked to each other, like we were two regular people, just living our lives. It was simple and it was easy, and it was enough, it was goddamned enough for me. Our relationship was the one normal thing I had going in my fucked up life." She cracked at the end, sobbing brokenly. She turned her head to the side, pressed her face into my bicep as she wrapped both arms around mine. Tears filled my eyes, as well, and now I was wiping snot out of my nose as well as blood. I felt goddamned sorry for the kid, and I felt like she had a right to cry, but I had to distract her, for my own sake. "So tell me, when was the first time you talked to Antoni? Was that the same day he asked you out?" "No, there was some time between the two. He'd been there about a week, I guess, after they moved in. They got there back in like April. I'd fucked with him the first day, you know, asked him where the hell the accent came from, and he said Poland, and I told him welcome to America cause I felt like being a dick. And he said that he'd already been in country five years and I laughed at him and told him, goddamn, I couldn't tell cause he still sounded like he was fresh off the boat. And he got this look on his face, like he was trying to decide if he needed to be offended or not, so I told him I was just fucking with him, that he was doing better than my Mom, God rest her, cause it was seven years after she got here from Seoul before she even learned a word of English and my Dad was the one that had to teach her." "Makes sense. I moved in in June, Toni mentioned he'd only been in the building about two months hisself." She nodded, I could feel the movement in the sleeve of my coat where her cheek was pressed to my arm. "Him and his brothers started coming in every day after that and you know, I kind of had my eye on him from the first time I talked to him. He was goddamn gorgeous, quite literally the walking definition of 'tall, dark, and handsome.' He had those incredibly blue eyes, and that fucking accent, man, shit put me in knots everytime he came in. I learned them all pretty quick, and Antoni was easy. He got the same thing everyday, box of Newport 100s and a pack of Russian Cream Backwoods with a large slushy. You know I gotta keep the cups behind the counter because motherfuckers'll fill it up and walk out when I get busy. I saw him when he came in, and went over to the ATM, so I had his shit sitting on the counter waiting for him." Becca had a talent for memorizing all of the regular's orders, it wasn't unusual to see a long line of cigarettes, blunts, medicine, sometimes even crack pipes and Chore Boys, and anything else she kept behind the counter, set up neatly next to the register. She also had a talent for running both registers at the same time when the line got overly long and she was there alone. Sometimes I had no idea how she kept up with it all, but that was just Becca. "And this drunk asshole came in, right after, he didn't even belong in the neighborhood, he stayed in Bed-Stuy, but he was with his cousin, and his cousin I knew and he was shooting me apologetic looks so I was already on guard. I was in a bad goddamn mood that day, anyway. And the drunk bitch, he walked over to the bathroom and tried to open it." "Key's behind the counter," I said, and she nodded. "And the key costs five dollars cause people make a fucking mess in the bathroom and I ain't cleaning that shit everyday for free. Well, drunk fuck got pissed and started talking a bunch of shit and threw his five dollars down on the counter, and you know, I can't stand that. You don't throw money at me, I ain't a goddamned stripper, you can put that shit in my hand or you can get the fuck out my store. And, I said 'Naw, son, for you it's gonna cost ten, five dollar Drunk Dick surcharge for being an asshole and cutting my line.' And the motherfucker… he called me a fucking stupid little bitch, and he told me people like me needed to be sent back to my own country." I made a sound of disapproval, already seeing where this was headed. "I hate that stupid shit. Where the fuck am I getting sent back to? The fucking hospital in Manhattan where I was born? Everybody in the store just kind of stopped and stood there, and dude's cousin? He just shook his head at me and walked right out the store and left him there." "He wasn't gonna get involved, huh?" I asked. "Fuck no. He wasn't stupid. I… uh, I was seeing red by that point so I balled up his money and I threw it across the store and told him to get the fuck out. I don't even remember half the shit I said to him, but I was yelling and he was yelling back and all of a sudden Antoni was… just there. I never even noticed him walking up. He was a big motherfucker, but goddamn he was quick and quiet when he wanted to be." Becca laced her fingers through the fingers of my right hand and I gave them a squeeze as she readjusted her head against my shoulder. I turned mine to press a kiss to her hair. She was short enough that I didn't have to worry about bumping my nose. As I turned back, I noticed that there was a puddle of water on the seat across from us, and a pit formed in my stomach immediately. My face felt cold as the blood drained from it. The puddle of water made me more than just a little nervous to see it. I had new enemies stacking up quick, and the last thing I needed was a pissed off, jealous ghost because his grieving fiancée was getting a little handsy with me. But… Antoni never showed himself, so I could only assume he approved of my offering her comfort in her time of need. Either that or he was waiting till I was alone to express his displeasure. "'Is there a problem here?' was all he asked and the drunk bitch turned around and he got even more pissed. He goes 'Man, fuck you, white boy. Mind your own goddamned business.' And Antoni kind of got in his face, and goes, 'I have made it my business. She told you to leave. Either remove yourself or I will remove you.' "And the liquor must've given him a bigger set of balls than he actually had, cause he took a swing at him. And Antoni, he just kind of… leaned back a little to avoid the swing and then leaned back in and… he knocked that bitch out cold with one punch. And then he picked him up, literally picked him up, and threw his ass out on the sidewalk, and kind of dusted his hands off afterwards." "Well, if he's anything like his father then he could throw a hell of a right cross." Becca laughed weakly. "Yeah, his Dad boxes, they all did, you know, from when they were young. Antoni told me he got in his Dad's face once when he was about 16, and Old Papa Zabrowska coldcocked him in the kitchen, and when he woke up on the couch, his Dad dragged him out back in the alley and beat him bloody. Told him if his little grown ass thought he was a man, then he was grown enough to get his ass stomped like a man." That made me feel a little better, to be honest. At least I wasn't the only one I knew who had caught an ass kicking from Antoni Sr. "I bet he didn't talk shit to his Pops again after that, huh?" "I asked him that exact question, he said 'Oh no, no, never again. I learned my lesson.' Toni and his brothers, though, were always getting in fights, even when I knew them. He told me it was hard on their Mama, back in Kraków, having four hormonal, teenaged boys with just shy of a year between each of them, you know cause… us fucking Roman Catholics ain't too fond of any method of contraception." "I didn't know you was Catholic, too, B." "Of course. Rossi is a devout Catholic, and that's how he raised me, and Nia, she's an Angel, you know, a Fallen One, that's what they call themselves, but she's even got real wings. A little more leathery and less feathery, but… same thing. She goes to Mass daily, turns out demons are actually very religious. Both of my parents were atheists, and that's how they raised me, but after some of the shit I've seen, you know, it ain't too unbelievable that there's a Big Guy upstairs." She sniffed again, wiped at her nose and I offered her a bit of toilet paper from my pocket. "That's how it all got started, the War in Heaven. God created Adam, the first living human body, and he told all the spirits in Heaven to kneel to him. And at least half of them weren't too fond of that idea, and the Morning Star stepped up as representative and said they wouldn't kneel to anyone but God. And they, uh, they lost the War, and He banished them all to Earth, to wander without bodies of their own while the other side got to come to Earth one at a time, to live their lives. "But… then there was the first murder, Abel. Cain beat him to death with a rock, and the blood on the ground, the first human blood ever shed in violence, it called to God, but He wasn't the only one it called to. The blood, it gave him a way inside of a body. Lucifer. He was the First One. He's still here, you know, I've met him. He has a particular fondness for Nia, he calls her Young One, cause according to him 1607 wasn't all that long ago." "I guess it isn't when you're that old." "But, back to what I was saying about Toni, all of them were packed into one place together like fucking sardines, the four boys sharing one bedroom in a two bedroom apartment, and all having vastly different personalities. Tatiana is little, like me, and I don't imagine she could do much to break them up when they got to fighting about everything from who ate all the leftovers to who got the top bunks on the beds." "Probably not," I answered. "I mean, I could practically smell the testosterone in their fucking apartment whenever I walked in, and it was probably even worse back then. And apparently, that had been their Dad's method of keeping them from tearing up his wife's house all the time. Whenever a problem inevitably developed, he'd just take them down to the gym and throw them in the ring without any gloves and tell them to fucking handle it, and whoever was still standing at the end was the one that won the argument. "Uh, but, uh, when Toni hit the guy, all, all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open like a fucking fish. I mean, I was in love, right that fucking second, standing there. The hormones were running on overdrive, my head was practically spinning with how fast all the blood rushed south, you know? Everybody was still standing there and Antoni tried to get back in line and I said, 'Uh-uh. Take your shit and go on.' And he goes," Beccs began laughing again, laughed so hard there were tears in her eyes once more. "He goes, 'Am I in trouble?''' I had to wrap my left arm tight around my stomach because I couldn't stop myself from laughing either. The makeshift bandage on my left hand that I'd wound out of paper towel had soaked through, I was going to have to change it soon. "He didn't say that, Becca." "Yes the fuck, he did. And I went, 'No, you dumbass, it's on the house, and in case I gotta translate, that means it's free. Small price to pay for a security detail.' And he just kind of blinked at me for a second, before he nodded his head and grabbed his things off the counter, went and filled his slushy up." "You probably scared the piss out of him for that second, he probably thought he'd been found out. That's what they call it, what he was, Obshchak, Security Group." "He stopped before he left, and told me thank you. And I said 'No, dziękuję', thank you. And then I winked at him and said 'Miłej nocy, piękna.'" She straightened up as the train began to slow for our stop. "And what did that mean?" "Have a good night, gorgeous." She said with a watery grin. "Smooth, B, real smooth. Nothing quite like hitting on a man in his native language. " "I mean, you know us, Tony, we got Southern Hospitality down here. As long as you're not an asshole, I do everything I can to make sure everyone feels welcome when they come inside. That's why there's a sign on the door that says 'DMZ.' They might have beef on the streets but don't nobody take that shit inside my store. And that means asking the Mexicans down the street if they need a bolsa, and making sure I ordered Farid's miswaks so he didn't have to walk all the way down to the Pakistani store, and sometimes it means learning a little bit of Polish so I could flirt with the new guy downstairs the next time he came in." We exited the train, made the switch, and stood on the platform waiting for the next to take us back to Avenue U. As I glanced to the side, I could see a puddle forming on the platform next to me, drip by drip. It was already freezing around the edges. As it turned out, I wasn't the only nosy fuck around here. "And apparently the flirting was well received by our dearly departed half-Russian friend." "Apparently, cause about a week later I was having a busy fucking Friday night and my Dad had already gone home, and I was trying to shut her down but motherfuckers kept coming inside right up until 11. I made DeAndre from downstairs stand at the door and tell people we were closed and that he was the last customer for the night and after I rung him up I told him to flip the sign on the door and I'd lock it when I finished my cigarette count… only, I forgot to ever lock it, and DeDe's traitorous ass, he fucking set me up. He knew I had a thing for Antoni, and when he saw him coming down off the platform and rushing down the sidewalk, he let him in and told him he was the last customer for the night and to flip the sign on the door." She closed her eyes for a moment. "It took me… exactly 16 minutes to notice he was there. I know, cause after I was done pissing myself when I figured out I wasn't alone, the Polish smart-ass showed me his watch. He'd set a timer when he realized I wasn't paying any attention to him, and then just stood there, waiting to see how long it would take. I had my earphones in, and it took four songs," she held up her hand and ticked them off with her fingers. "'Savage Like', 'Money, Sex, Drugs', 'Proud' and 'Only.' "I turned around and screamed like a little bitch when I saw him. And then I got pissed, cause I was embarrassed, I'd been singing along to all the songs cause I thought I was alone in the store. I started screaming at him. 'What the fuck, you can't read? The sign says Closed.' And he goes 'No, it didn't. It still said Open. I turned it myself.' I hadn't counted down my register yet, so I just went ahead and grabbed his shit and rung him up, cussing DeDe the whole time and I asked him how long he'd been standing there, and he showed me his watch. And he says, 'You shouldn't wear those, it's dangerous,' talking about my headphones, and I said, 'What are you, my fucking father?' And he got kind of a funny look on his face." I released a weak snicker, holding my stomach tight again. I couldn't resist fucking with them both a little bit. "He kinda had a point, Becca. Although, I can tell you he was probably less concerned about being your father and more concerned about becoming your Daddy." "Oh, so now you got the dirty jokes," Becca said flatly. "What can I say, B, you're a bad influence on me." "Eh," she said after a moment, "You wouldn't be the first. You know, months later he told me that he'd stood there that long because he didn't think he'd have the nerve to ask what he wanted to ask the next time if he left, which, you know, what the fuck? What am I, scary?" I couldn't help but laugh again. "Yes, Becca, you are, you're fucking terrifying half the time. You might be a short fuck but dynamite comes in small packages, you know? He was probably afraid you'd tell him to suck your dick and ban him from the store for a month like every other poor motherfucker I've seen ask you out, and he probably didn't want to go through your particular brand of ridicule in front of an audience, on top of that, with all the other customers laughing him out of the store." "It ain't my fault I'm this size," she said after a moment, shooting me a perturbed look. "No shit, Sherlock. It's genetics." "It ain't even that. It's the blood. I mean, my parents were both tall, you know, for Koreans, anyway, my Mom was 5'6. I probably would've been too if I'd had the chance, but, you know, the blood it… stops things. Why do you think Jimmy looks the way he does? I mean, Pops believes in 'aging gracefully,' as he says, but old Giacomino is a vain fuck, and he's got more of a taste for 'the Stuff' than Rocco ever had. He turned 65 this year, he's only two years younger than Pops, he was already 34 years old when he met Nia for the first time. He tells people he's got a good plastic surgeon, when they ask. And the same thing happened to me. My body wanted to stay 8 years old, forever. "Rossi had to get hormones, fucking estrogen and progesterone and HGH, off the black market to force my body to start puberty and to fucking grow. It's not like we could go to a doctor and explain why I needed the prescription. I mean, these tits aren't even mine. Ma bought 'em for my sixteenth birthday so I wouldn't feel so goddamned self-conscious. Nia's not exactly flat-chested, as you know, neither was my Mom, and it kind of gave me a fucking complex when I was growing up." "I mean, is she? I haven't really noticed," I replied, evasively. "Yes, you have, you lying fuck. There isn't a straight or bisexual man, or a lesbian or bisexual woman for that matter, that comes within fifty feet of Appolonia Bianchi that doesn't notice all of her unnatural charms. It made for some interesting 'family' trips during the summer when we'd leave the city, lemme tell you. I asked Pops once, you know, if he ever got jealous when she'd show up with some random dick she'd run across, cause I used to think it was pretty shitty of her. "I said she could've at least kept things on the downlow and not throw it in Rocco's face every few days. But he told me no, he loved her, he understood her nature very well and he'd accepted what she was years before I was even born, and that she loved him too, and more importantly, respected him. She always introduced the men to him because that was what he'd asked of her. That it was the one aspect of control he had in the situation, giving his 'permission' for her little liaisons. That it made him feel better to let them know they might be getting a piece, but she'd be ending every night lying in his bed, regardless of what they did." I nodded. "I guess I can kind of see his point." "But, the blood, that's how I ended up pregnant. I mean, I'm not a dumbass, I know how babies are made, but I wasn't worried about using condoms with Antoni, neither of us wanted to. I told him if he gave me anything I'd cut his dick off, and he knew I was serious, too, and he considered it a proportional response. I didn't even think I could get pregnant. "I stopped the birth control when I was 16 because it was making me gain weight and my cheer coach bitched me out in front of fucking everybody, and Rossi's guy said I needed to keep taking it to keep my hormone levels even. So I told Antoni I didnt want to get into my medical history, but suffice to say I was probably fucking sterile anyway, so he didn't have to worry about it, and he told me he wasn't worried about it at all. But apparently my fucking parts work better than I thought." "Or maybe he had some damned determined swimmers, who knows." "I don't know why I was even concerned about not using condoms anyway. Technically we were all excommunicated as of 2014. Pope said the mafiosi lifestyle isn't compatible with the Catholic one. You know, I wonder how Antoni would feel about all this, I wonder if he'd be pissed, think I lied to him about not being able to get pregnant." "You're just gonna have to take my word for it, B, but he's not angry in the least, he's pretty fucking proud of hisself." I'd say his chest was stuck out but he didn't have much of a chest left these days, so I just kept that part to myself. "Pretty sure he said he wasn't worried about it because he was hoping you were wrong about being sterile." Beccs gave me a strange look but the train arrived at just that moment. The people exiting did quite a bit of staring, unlike the people leaving the funeral, but I just tucked my arm around Becca and shouldered my way past them and found us a seat. The drops of water followed us into the train. "What's with the present tense, Tony? Is that some kind of cliche 'he's lookin' down on you' bullshit?" I snorted and wiped the bubble of blood from my nose, staring at the puddle of water that was starting to form in the seat next to us. I could feel the cold emanating from Antoni all along my left side. Oddly enough, it was easing the intense ache in my nearly severed ring finger. "He ain't looking down on us, B, I can tell you that much." "So it's a Hell joke?" "No, not really. But then again, I'm pretty sure we're all in Hell right this second, Miss Rebecca, so yes, yes it is." |
2023.05.28 06:34 keryan9 AITA for telling my boyfriend to leave the restaurant?
TLDR: I invited my boyfriend to dinner with brother and his gf and he accepted, cancelled last minute cause he was drunk, then shows up to the dinner 1.5 hours late absolutely hammered, so I told him to leave.
My (25F) brother and his girlfriend (30M/30F) are visiting my town and staying with me and my boyfriend (25M) for two days. My bf and I have been dating for almost 10 months. My brother and my boyfriend are friendly but not close but I am very close to my brother. My brother asked if bf and I wanted to go to dinner with them & I said yes! My bf was at work (bartender) so I called him and he said he was already drunk but he said he wanted to go. I said that’s fine but asked him not to get any more drunk. The restaurant is in the same strip mall thing as his work so he could walk to it very easily. I made a reso for 4 at 7 pm.
6:30 rolls around and my boyfriend says “I’m fucked up” so I said “you’re not coming to dinner” and “that’s extremely disrespectful”. He doesn’t answer. I decide that I’m going to have a nice dinner with my brother and his gf and forget about it.
8:30. We’re nearing the end of our dinner, had such a nice time, and I see my bf stroll through the front doors of the restaurant. My bf walks up to the bar and says hi to people he knows and talks to them for 5-10 minutes. My brother and his gf are starting at him with jaws on the floor, my back is to my bf. My brother goes up to him and says hi, shakes hands and walks away. Then my bf walks over to our table and starts hugging me and kissing me acting like nothings wrong. It’s clear he’s hammered. He sits down and I’m just staring at him. I ask if he wants to go outside to talk and he gives me puppy dog eyes and says “I’m not in trouble am I?”.
We walk outside and I ask him to leave. I say it was incredibly disrespectful for him to show up hammered at the end of our meal, that he was invited too and flaked on, and pretend like nothing was wrong. MIND YOU: Our entire meal he was sitting at the bar he works at GETTING MORE DRUNK 25 feet away. He got off at 7 (reso was at 7) and didn’t show up till 8:30.
I express my feelings to him (which I knew was a bad idea because he is 0% receptive when he’s drunk) and he turned the whole thing around on me saying I never invited him and I was the one who didn’t want him to be there. He completely went victim complex saying “I’m the asshole, right?” “I’m always in the wrong, I can never do anything right” and “you always get mad when I drink” so I tell him I’m not arguing with him in this parking lot and he needs to leave and I’m going to go finish dinner with my family. He storms off back into the bar and is huffing and puffing and throwing his hands in the air the whole time saying “I’m the asshole, right?” He never said sorry or even acknowledged what he did was wrong.
AITA?
submitted by keryan9 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
My (25F) brother and his girlfriend (30M/30F) are visiting my town and staying with me and my boyfriend (25M) for two days. My bf and I have been dating for almost 10 months. My brother and my boyfriend are friendly but not close but I am very close to my brother. My brother asked if bf and I wanted to go to dinner with them & I said yes! My bf was at work (bartender) so I called him and he said he was already drunk but he said he wanted to go. I said that’s fine but asked him not to get any more drunk. The restaurant is in the same strip mall thing as his work so he could walk to it very easily. I made a reso for 4 at 7 pm.
6:30 rolls around and my boyfriend says “I’m fucked up” so I said “you’re not coming to dinner” and “that’s extremely disrespectful”. He doesn’t answer. I decide that I’m going to have a nice dinner with my brother and his gf and forget about it.
8:30. We’re nearing the end of our dinner, had such a nice time, and I see my bf stroll through the front doors of the restaurant. My bf walks up to the bar and says hi to people he knows and talks to them for 5-10 minutes. My brother and his gf are starting at him with jaws on the floor, my back is to my bf. My brother goes up to him and says hi, shakes hands and walks away. Then my bf walks over to our table and starts hugging me and kissing me acting like nothings wrong. It’s clear he’s hammered. He sits down and I’m just staring at him. I ask if he wants to go outside to talk and he gives me puppy dog eyes and says “I’m not in trouble am I?”.
We walk outside and I ask him to leave. I say it was incredibly disrespectful for him to show up hammered at the end of our meal, that he was invited too and flaked on, and pretend like nothing was wrong. MIND YOU: Our entire meal he was sitting at the bar he works at GETTING MORE DRUNK 25 feet away. He got off at 7 (reso was at 7) and didn’t show up till 8:30.
I express my feelings to him (which I knew was a bad idea because he is 0% receptive when he’s drunk) and he turned the whole thing around on me saying I never invited him and I was the one who didn’t want him to be there. He completely went victim complex saying “I’m the asshole, right?” “I’m always in the wrong, I can never do anything right” and “you always get mad when I drink” so I tell him I’m not arguing with him in this parking lot and he needs to leave and I’m going to go finish dinner with my family. He storms off back into the bar and is huffing and puffing and throwing his hands in the air the whole time saying “I’m the asshole, right?” He never said sorry or even acknowledged what he did was wrong.
AITA?
2023.05.28 06:25 IceQueenWeiss Selling epic games account + coupon 25% expire june 15
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2023.05.28 06:12 yuz_4547 I loved my parents growing up but now I question if I loved because I wanted to or because I had too.
This was trigger by a recently (probably 10 mins ago) argument with my parent.
So recently I have been feeling no so great about my life. I hate the fact that I’m stuck at home while in college. I hate the fact that I had to deal everyday arguments with my parents. I know that I live with them and I have to respect their rules since it’s their home but sometimes I can’t even get a little bit of freedom to do things that I wanted to do. For example, I wants to watch fast X this weekend and I made a joke with my mom saying “ Mom, this day I will not be home since I will be watching Fast X this day” then all of a sudden, she’s yelling at me say oh so now you’re not asking for permission, acting like you own this place, acting like you’re grown. Personally me, I didn’t care what she was saying to me because I’m use to the comments my parents say to me, I have grown to stay still and not react but this time it was just foul. She was saying all this comments say how since I want to be acting grown that I might as well sleep with man and drink/do drug since I know what it’s like to be a grown up. What got me mad was that she was saying all these comments in front of my relatives. At this point my smile turned into a frown and just looked at her and said “mom I was just joking around” and “ I’m sorry if it sounded as if I was demanding something from you”. At this point she just looked at me and didn’t say anything else, so I just head to my room. Then not even minutes later she called me saying where am I? I responded with I’m in my room, then she goes on with did I let you to your room. At this point she was pretty much screaming at me over the phone then hanged up on me. Now this was one incident that happened during the weekday
Now to right now with my dad. My parents left home and went to return some items and buy items, basically went shopping. I was home taking care of my little brother while my other brothers went to play soccer with my other cousins. After a while, my siblings come back but didn’t eat anything. On top of this, they weren’t really hungry, so we just waited for our parents to come back. Hours later the come back but at this point, all of us went to bed. While I was about to sleep I hear a knocking from my door and saw it was my brother, he told me to come up stair but before I did he was whispering to me saying that dad was mad at all of us. I asked how come so then my brother stated that dad is calling us worthless because we don’t know how to feed ourselves and that he always have to be the one buy food for everyone and then said that we are all lazy and being a bad example to my younger brother. At this point I’m feed up and just went to their room. I wait for a bit once I’m up then say hey dad and tell him welcome back home. He saw me then went off saying that my lazy and useless because I can’t make a simple rice to feed myself and that he always has to come home and feed us. Then he calls out to me and brother and mom that we are stuck on our phones and that we are the reason why my younger brother isn’t doing well in his studies. At this point I did talk back which looking back at it I shouldn’t have. I told him that we didn’t ask you to buy food for us and that I did make food for us during lunch and since there was a lot left, my siblings eat more of it. And th parent where he said laxy, yes I understand in the morning I was home but during this time I was making lunch for my siblings before I had to head to work. On top of not feeling so great, I still managed to get my shit done at work while being side tracked with other work. After my shift ended , I had to buy some thing that I need before I had to catch the bus. Then from heading home I was catching up on my reading for class since I didn’t have time to do it. Once I got home I had to help my mom with technical stuff then I had to take care of brother while doing some homework. After that was done I had to clean up the mess my brother made and clean up the mess of drunk folks coming inside with dirty shoes. So yeah I wasn’t lazy or worthless today but for some reason my father views me like this.
Like I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of the nonsense yelling and the consent degrading comments said to me. I’m tired, of forcing myself. I’ve always been there for them, but no, I mean there for me. I actually love my parents, but sometimes I question it, and if they really wanted me or if they really wanted kids in general. I really hate being the oldest kid in the family. I want to live my life with my parents and siblings are holding me back. I really wanna move out but I don’t have money and if I do, I have money, I barely have enough to pay for it only. I wanna explore the world, but I feel like my parents are holding me back in that is some point later. it may drive me insane. I really wanna get out of here and I’m planning to stay for two more years. Then to get out of here, be my own self. Like I just can’t anymore. I’m sorry this was longer but I had to let it out. Plus I’m also sorry if this sounds bratty but I just needed to say it out loud.
submitted by yuz_4547 to offmychest [link] [comments]
So recently I have been feeling no so great about my life. I hate the fact that I’m stuck at home while in college. I hate the fact that I had to deal everyday arguments with my parents. I know that I live with them and I have to respect their rules since it’s their home but sometimes I can’t even get a little bit of freedom to do things that I wanted to do. For example, I wants to watch fast X this weekend and I made a joke with my mom saying “ Mom, this day I will not be home since I will be watching Fast X this day” then all of a sudden, she’s yelling at me say oh so now you’re not asking for permission, acting like you own this place, acting like you’re grown. Personally me, I didn’t care what she was saying to me because I’m use to the comments my parents say to me, I have grown to stay still and not react but this time it was just foul. She was saying all this comments say how since I want to be acting grown that I might as well sleep with man and drink/do drug since I know what it’s like to be a grown up. What got me mad was that she was saying all these comments in front of my relatives. At this point my smile turned into a frown and just looked at her and said “mom I was just joking around” and “ I’m sorry if it sounded as if I was demanding something from you”. At this point she just looked at me and didn’t say anything else, so I just head to my room. Then not even minutes later she called me saying where am I? I responded with I’m in my room, then she goes on with did I let you to your room. At this point she was pretty much screaming at me over the phone then hanged up on me. Now this was one incident that happened during the weekday
Now to right now with my dad. My parents left home and went to return some items and buy items, basically went shopping. I was home taking care of my little brother while my other brothers went to play soccer with my other cousins. After a while, my siblings come back but didn’t eat anything. On top of this, they weren’t really hungry, so we just waited for our parents to come back. Hours later the come back but at this point, all of us went to bed. While I was about to sleep I hear a knocking from my door and saw it was my brother, he told me to come up stair but before I did he was whispering to me saying that dad was mad at all of us. I asked how come so then my brother stated that dad is calling us worthless because we don’t know how to feed ourselves and that he always have to be the one buy food for everyone and then said that we are all lazy and being a bad example to my younger brother. At this point I’m feed up and just went to their room. I wait for a bit once I’m up then say hey dad and tell him welcome back home. He saw me then went off saying that my lazy and useless because I can’t make a simple rice to feed myself and that he always has to come home and feed us. Then he calls out to me and brother and mom that we are stuck on our phones and that we are the reason why my younger brother isn’t doing well in his studies. At this point I did talk back which looking back at it I shouldn’t have. I told him that we didn’t ask you to buy food for us and that I did make food for us during lunch and since there was a lot left, my siblings eat more of it. And th parent where he said laxy, yes I understand in the morning I was home but during this time I was making lunch for my siblings before I had to head to work. On top of not feeling so great, I still managed to get my shit done at work while being side tracked with other work. After my shift ended , I had to buy some thing that I need before I had to catch the bus. Then from heading home I was catching up on my reading for class since I didn’t have time to do it. Once I got home I had to help my mom with technical stuff then I had to take care of brother while doing some homework. After that was done I had to clean up the mess my brother made and clean up the mess of drunk folks coming inside with dirty shoes. So yeah I wasn’t lazy or worthless today but for some reason my father views me like this.
Like I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of the nonsense yelling and the consent degrading comments said to me. I’m tired, of forcing myself. I’ve always been there for them, but no, I mean there for me. I actually love my parents, but sometimes I question it, and if they really wanted me or if they really wanted kids in general. I really hate being the oldest kid in the family. I want to live my life with my parents and siblings are holding me back. I really wanna move out but I don’t have money and if I do, I have money, I barely have enough to pay for it only. I wanna explore the world, but I feel like my parents are holding me back in that is some point later. it may drive me insane. I really wanna get out of here and I’m planning to stay for two more years. Then to get out of here, be my own self. Like I just can’t anymore. I’m sorry this was longer but I had to let it out. Plus I’m also sorry if this sounds bratty but I just needed to say it out loud.