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The Grand Line: Grand Line RP (A One Piece Roleplay)

2013.07.08 22:22 Marques_King The Grand Line: Grand Line RP (A One Piece Roleplay)

The subreddit for the Grand Line within the GLRP. Making it here is a sign of strength, character, and that you're probably in over your head. But, don't worry. If you've made it this far then you can surely keep it going. Just remember to stay weary of mushrooms, bats, and falling road rollers. ------------------------------------- This subreddit is currently inactive for the time being. It made be made public again at a later date.
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2016.05.12 17:27 chillaxin4life Milwaukee's Bicycle Community

Welcome to Milwaukee's bike subreddit! From the urban commuters to the beach cruisers, everyone and their bike is welcome here for newbie advice, pro events, and everything in between! Bike maps and bike shops are listed in the wiki.
[link]

2016.04.13 22:39 no_turn_unstoned WELCOME TO THE_PACK

THIS IS THE PACK WE'RE FUCKEN BAD ASS AND WE MAKE BOMBASS MEMES!!!!! CUM CRANK YOU'RE HOG IN ARE DISCORD MFER https://discord.gg/thepack !!!!!!!!!
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2023.06.03 23:03 yunepio Analysis of all religions (3/3)

Posts in the series

Brief recap

In the previous post, we continued our analysis with a second round of eliminations of more religions that cannot reasonably be from a judging and fair God. At this point, only the Abrahamic religions remain to be analyzed, which we will do below.
--
The reason I wanted to analyze the Abrahamic religions together last is because they have many similarities. For one, they reference the same God and agree on many details: similar people, similar places, similar events and for the most part, even originated in the same region. In addition, two of them are the biggest religions in the world today, far ahead of all other religions in terms of adoption, nearly accounting for half of the people on the planet! The fact that they are spread out in time and that they reference each other, can at least in theory, represent a pattern of recurring communication. It's also possible that they're just copying from each others. Let's see!
The timeline of appearance of the Abrahamic religions from old to new is as follows:
Judaism
Christianity
Islam
Druze
Mormonism
Baha’i Faith
Can the Abrahamic religions be instances of communication from their common God? It’s possible, however some issues surface:
Let’s keep the issues above in mind and apply the same criteria to the Abrahamic religions in the same way we did to all of the others. We will analyze them in the chronological order of their appearance.

Judaism

Let's analyze the message of Judaism.
Now let's analyze Moses, the founder of Judaism.
If there is a judging and fair God, Moses is highly likely to be one of his messengers. He passes all the criteria while explicitly making the claim of being sent by a God. If he was a fraud, he would have had an existing history of it, and he wouldn’t have dared to come back to a place where he killed someone and feared for his life, then challenge its ruler and win! If he was a deluded self-appointed leader to his people, that delusion would have been his demise. He would have been killed, as other religious founders have. Instead, he and his people, although an oppressed minority without any military power, were able to escape their oppressors and defeat them! This is impossible without some powerful external assistance.
One can reasonably claim that the story of Moses is just a myth that is made to look impressive. That would be fair, except it had more impact than what a myth can fathom. That being said, even if we accept that it’s all a myth, or at least a heavily augmented truth, it is still told by other Abrahamic prophets who happen to have had similar or more impact than Moses did. This makes his story as valid as theirs can be. So, let’s continue our analysis.
Sources:
(1) From Britannica: Moses... Hebrew prophet, teacher, and leader who, in the 13th century bce... delivered his people from Egyptian slavery...
(2) From Britannica: ...When he found an Egyptian taskmaster beating a Hebrew, probably to death, he could control his sense of justice no longer...
(3) From Britannica: ...After checking to make sure that no one was in sight, he killed the tough Egyptian overlord...
(4) From the Qur’an (translation): ˹One day˺ he entered the city unnoticed by its people. There he found two men fighting: one of his own people, and the other of his enemies. The man from his people called to him for help against his foe. So Moses punched him, causing his death. Moses cried, “This is from Satan’s handiwork. He is certainly a sworn, misleading enemy.” He pleaded, “My Lord! I have definitely wronged my soul, so forgive me.” So He forgave him, ˹for˺ He is indeed the All-Forgiving, Most Merciful.

Christianity

Let's analyze the message of Christianity.
1: If God sacrificed his son in order to absolve us of our sins, judgment wouldn’t make sense. Also, why does a God have a son? Mortals have children to continue the species and to provide for them when they grow weak. A God doesn’t need a son...
  1. If God sacrificed his son, also a part of himself, it should have been the final act of life here on Earth. Instead, he let Muhammad come after and be so successful in reversing this idea, all while claiming to be sent by him!!! And what about the people who died a long time ago and never knew about this important sacrifice?
  2. The idea that God is all-powerful, all-knowing and all-loving doesn’t stand for a judging God. It simply isn’t possible for him to have these 3 attributes at the same time. If he is all-knowing, then he knows that many humans will fail his judgment and be severely punished. Consequently, if he is also all-powerful, being all-loving would have him not resort to judgment and not punish anyone. Since he insists on judgment with a heaven and hell, then he isn’t all-loving. Muhammad also happens to correct this idea.
  3. The conditions of success and failure in the upcoming judgment are not particularly fair. It’s not about what actions one does during their life, rather, it’s about accepting Jesus as savior. One can be the most ruthless killer, then just accept Jesus as savior in order to be absolved of all wrongdoing. Also, what about all the people who lived and died before Jesus was even born? They didn’t know Jesus; how can they accept him as savior? Haven’t they spent their lives following other rules? Isn’t that unfair to them?
Now let's analyze Jesus, the founder of Christianity.
Similar to Moses, if there is a judging and fair God, Jesus is highly likely to be one of his messengers. His feat is even more impressive than that of Moses. His mission and success in correcting and complementing the existing Jewish faith against incredible odds, adds more credibility to his claim. Jesus changed the world and continues to do so today!
Sources:
(1) From Britannica: ...Joseph is said to have been a carpenter (Matthew 13:55)—that is, a craftsman who worked with his hands—and, according to Mark 6:3, Jesus also became a carpenter...
(2) From Britannica: ...As a young adult, he went to be baptized by the prophet John the Baptist and shortly thereafter became an itinerant preacher and healer (Mark 1:2–28). In his mid-30s Jesus had a short public career, lasting perhaps less than one year, during which he attracted considerable attention...

Islam

Let's analyze the message of Islam.
It aligns with reality well by describing reality as a test of free will. Life is neither the suffering Buddhism makes it out to be (which it isn’t), nor is it the joyous life Tenrikyo claims it should be (which again, isn’t). Every single human is continuously tested through good and bad. When it is something bad, it is their patience and acceptance that is tested. When it is something good, it is their capacity of being thankful and generous that is tested. Everyone’s life is a mix of good and bad. Exceptions exist and are accounted for.
Islam states that God has been sending prophets since the beginning in order to remind people that judgment is coming. It states that people who didn’t get the message will be tested again. Those who got the message of the prophet of their time, accepted it and followed its guidelines, shall pass the judgment. Those who rejected the message after receiving it clearly shall fail.
Now let's analyze Muhammad, the founder of Islam.
If a judging and fair God exists, Muhammad is highly likely to be one of his messengers. He was leading a normal and regular life in a polytheistic society for 40 years, then suddenly started preaching monotheism, suffering for it and even going to war for it.
Sources:
(1) From Wikipedia: ...Due to his upright character he acquired the nickname "al-Amin" (Arabic: الامين), meaning "faithful, trustworthy" and "al-Sadiq" meaning "truthful" and was sought out as an impartial arbitrator. His reputation attracted a proposal in 595 from Khadijah, a successful businesswoman. Muhammad consented to the marriage, which by all accounts was a happy one...
(2) From Wikipedia: ... It is known that he became a merchant and "was involved in trade between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea...
(3) From Wikipedia: ... Because he could not read and write himself...
(4) From Wikipedia: ...Muhammad was deeply distressed upon receiving his first revelations. After returning home, Muhammad was consoled and reassured by Khadijah and her Christian [sic] cousin, Waraqah ibn Nawfal. He also feared that others would dismiss his claims as being possessed...
(5) From Wikipedia: ...Regardless, several attempts were made at Muhammad's life...
(6) From Qur’an. Aisha said: "The Prophet was being guarded until this verse وَاللَّهُ يَعْصِمُكَ مِنَ النَّاسِ (Allah will protect you from mankind) was revealed." She added; "The Prophet raised his head from the room and said; «يَا أَيُّهَا النَّاسُ انْصَرِفُوا فَقَدْ عَصَمَنِي اللهُ عَزَّ وَجَل» (O people! Go away, for Allah will protect me)"
(7) From Sunnah: Miqdad reported that he heard God’s messenger say, “There will not remain on the face of the earth a mud-brick house or a camel’s hair tent which God will not cause the confession of Islam to enter bringing both mighty honour and abject abasement. God will either honour the occupants and put them among its adherents, or will humiliate them and they will be subject to it.” Miqdad said, “God will then receive complete obedience.”
(8) https://www.thebump.com/b/muhammad-baby-name

Druze

Let’s analyze the Druze faith!
Now let's analyze Hamza Ibn Ali, the founder of Druze.
It’s extremely unlikely that the Druze faith is a communication from a judging and fair God. Its founder fails a combination of some important criteria.
Sources:
(1) From Wikipedia: ...Indeed, in his epistles, Hamza is critical of his colleague, both for al-Darzi's disputing Hamza's role as the leader of their movement, as well as for his followers' over-zealous, extremist and provocative actions, which revealed the movement's ideas prematurely and placed it under danger of attack... During this time, the followers of the rival leaders engaged in regular brawls in the streets of Cairo, cursing one another as infidels.
(2) From Britannica: ...Almost nothing is known of his life before he entered Egypt in 1017. He became a spokesman for the religious convictions of the Fāṭimid caliph al-Ḥākim (the Fāṭimids were the ruling dynasty in Egypt), who was already accorded the position of imām, a divinely appointed and authoritative spokesman for Islam...
(3) From Wikipedia: ...According to the medieval chroniclers, he too enjoyed signs of favour from al-Hakim: when he complained to the Caliph that his life was in danger, he was given weapons, which he demonstratively hung on every entrance to the Raydan Mosque...
(4) From Britannica: ...Considerable resistance to these doctrines appeared when they were first preached in 1017, and Ḥamzah went into hiding until 1019, when al-Ḥākim was able to move vigorously to support the new religious movement... Ḥamzah claimed to be representing not just another sect but rather an independent religion, one that superseded traditional Islam. Al-Ḥākim disappeared in mysterious circumstances in 1021, and, much persecuted, the Druze cult all but ceased to exist in Egypt...

Mormonism

Let’s analyze Mormonism:
Now let's analyze Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism.
Sources:
(1) From Wikipedia: ...Meanwhile, the Smith family faced financial hardship... Family members supplemented their meager farm income by hiring out for odd jobs and working as treasure seekers, a type of magical supernaturalism common during the period. Smith was said to have an ability to locate lost items by looking into a seer stone, which he also used in treasure hunting, including, beginning in 1825, several unsuccessful attempts to find buried treasure sponsored by Josiah Stowell, a wealthy farmer in Chenango County, New York. In 1826, Smith was brought before a Chenango County court for "glass-looking", or pretending to find lost treasure; Stowell's relatives accused Smith of tricking Stowell and faking an ability to perceive hidden treasure... Although Smith had abandoned treasure hunting, his former associates believed he had double crossed them and had taken the golden plates for himself, property they believed should be jointly shared. After they ransacked places where they believed the plates might be hidden, Smith decided to leave Palmyra
(2) From Wikipedia: The region was a hotbed of religious enthusiasm during the Second Great Awakening. Between 1817 and 1825, there were several camp meetings and revivals in the Palmyra area… Smith said that he became interested in religion by age 12… With other family members, Smith also engaged in religious folk magic, which was a relatively common practice in that time and place…

Baha'i Faith

Now let's analyze Baháʼu'lláh, the founder of Baha'i Faith.
It's highly unlikely that Baha'i Faith is a communication from a judging and fair God.
Sources:
(1) From Wikipedia: Some of his earlier writings suggest that he did not enjoy the business and instead applied himself to the study of religious literature… He was constantly absorbed in his own thoughts, and was preoccupied with repetition of his prayers and verses… In 1841 the Báb went on pilgrimage to Iraq, and for seven months stayed mostly in and around Karbala. There he attended lectures of Kazim Rashti and became his follower… As of his death in December 1843, Kazim Rashti counseled his followers to leave their homes to seek the Mahdi, who, according to his prophecies, would soon appear. One of these followers, Mullá Husayn, after keeping vigil for 40 days in a mosque, traveled to Shiraz, where he met the Báb…
(2) From Wikipedia: Soon after declaring his spiritual mission to Mullá Husayn, the Báb sent him to Tehran to deliver a special tablet to one whom God would guide him to. After learning about Baháʼu'lláh through an acquaintance, Mullá Husayn felt compelled to arrange for Baháʼu'lláh to receive the tablet—this news brought great joy to the Báb when Mullá Husayn wrote to him about it…

Summary

After analyzing all the religions, the ones that are highly likely to be communications from a judging and fair God if one exists, are Judaism, Christianity and Islam. They are the only religions that satisfy most of the criteria. In fact, their founders are the ONLY ones who satisfy all the criteria, specifically the criterion of non-involvement prior to their claim of a contact with a God. All the other founders were involved in one way or another, making their claim a possible result of either fraud or delusion.
It is important to note though: we haven't proven that a judging and fair God exists, and we haven't proven that these religions are actually communications from him, not at all. All we did was to reasonably prove that if a judging and fair God exists, then Judaism, Christianity and Islam are highly likely to be communications from him.
In the next post, we will continue our research and see how we can reasonably prove that a judging and fair God exists.
Until next time!
submitted by yunepio to DebateReligion [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 22:55 Sea-Sympathy5350 One hell of a night

Last night, I had just returned from a celebration of my sisters 21st birthday, I am 27, so me and my parents and several of her friends went to the bar, we stayed until almost closing, I had driven one of my cars to the bar, but was a bit over the limit okay, I was too drunk to drive, so I called for a Uber to drive me and my sister home. My parents left at 1am, as they were still sober. I had the driver drop off my sister first, after carrying her into her apartment, then we headed to my house. As soon as we turned the corner, I could see my other car missing from my driveway. I got out and I was mad as hell, I looked but there was no broken glass or any signs of how it was taken. I walked into my house, I immediately sobered up with the realization my car had been stolen. I started the search for the license plate number, vin number and my insurance company phone number. I was on the phone with the police when there was a knock, no let me rephrase that, there was banging on my front door. When I open it, 2 police officers were standing there, I said wow, that was quick, they looked at me funny, asked if I owned a 2014 jeep in black, I replied, yes did you find it already. They just looked at me and told me to place my hands behind my back, I said why, they didn’t say anything and just grabbed me and then threw me to the ground and handcuffed me. I was dragged out of my house and placed into the back of a patrol car and taken to the station.
At the station I was fingerprinted, photographed, searched and my blood was drawn, then they took my shoes and belt. I was placed into a cell, while all the time asking what the hell was going on, 3 hours later I was taken from the cell into an interrogation room, I sat there for about another 4 hours before anyone came in, all this time I was not allowed to call or speak to anyone, I still had no idea why the had me like this.
Finally, a detective came in and sat across from me and once again asked if I owned a black 2014 jeep, then he gave me the license number, I said yes, it was missing from my driveway, I was in the process of calling the police when they showed up. He said we will get to that later. He started asking where I had been last night, I told him at a celebration for my sister’s birthday, he asked who was there with me, I gave everyone’s names and as many phone numbers as I could. I said I wanted to know what the hell was going on, he said that I was under arrest for vehicular manslaughter, hit and run, leaving the scene of a crime, and a few more just for good measure. I said again my car was stolen and I had nothing to do with this at all. They pulled out pictures of the accident and the dead bodies, yes there were 3 teens killed from the other car.
I said I wasn’t driving that car; they could verify by contacting the bar, I spoke with the bartender all night, I had even spoke with the bouncer while I was waiting for my Uber. They could also call Uber to confirm I was being driven from that bar and the times. They didn’t believe me at all, they took me back to a cell. This is where I sat for another 7 hours waiting for anything from them. Now I have been in their custody for more than 16 hours.
That’s when they took me from my cell, returned all my belongings, then I was escorted back to the interrogation room this time without cuffs, the detective came back in and he placed a picture in front of me, asked if I knew this person. I did, he was a kid from down the street, I had caught him siphoning gas from one of my cars a few months ago. They told me they found him hiding behind a trash bin close to the accident, he had a broken collar bone and a couple broken ribs. This was the person who stole my car and crashed it into the other car while on a joy ride. They basically told me I was free to go, no apology, no shaking of my hand, just a cold uncaring sense as to what they had just done to me over the past 18 hours of my life. They walked me to the jail gate, and said here’s the case number, I asked If they were going to drive me back home, they said no, it was up to me to find my own transportation. Luckily my car was still at the bar I was at the night before, it was only about a mile away, so I walked, got my car and drove home. I called the insurance company, gave them all the information as well as the case number and I went to sleep. I know there will be more but that is as far as everything stands as of right now.
submitted by Sea-Sympathy5350 to FictionWriting [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 22:27 FaithlessnessLazy701 Should I get in contact with my dad?

(I initially had this in am I the a hole but it got taken down bc it mentioned mentioned cutting of my dad (oops) doesnt matter bc now I want some advice on what to do rather then if I'm wrong or not)
So a bit of background When I (19m) was 6 my mum died of cancer, I dont remember much about her. When I was 9 my dad moved in with my step mum. My older brother (27m) (let's call him Jay) moved out when he was 18 and I guess my dad thought I'd do the same because on my 19th birthday he locked me out the house and told me my stuff was at Jay's house and I needed to go and pick it up. I never did because I dont like Jay.
The last thing my dad said before I left was along the lines of "call me when you get a job. Otherwise you only need to contact me if it's an emergency. Be safe"
My dad was kinda a push over when before he remarried so I didnt believe him when he said he would kick me out. I dropped out of school at 16 and didnt want a job or anything like that which he didnt like.
He gave me some money but it went within the first couple of weeks and I was sorta stuck for money. Luckily I was recently offered a job and my boss offered me to stay in the flat she owns and she said I could stay their for a while, until i can afford my own. I took the offer obviously.
Here is the issue, yesterday I was walking down a street that was known for being dodgy, after a bit I noticed Jay was walking nearby (hes the type of guy you think you wouldnt catch dead in the area where we were) he realised I saw him and walked towards me. The conversation went something like this (paraphrased); J: hey how you holding up? Me: what are you doing here. J: am I not allowed to walk down a street? Me: that's not an answer. J: fine, I'm here to check up on you. (Side note: my phone has a tracker on it linked to my dads phone which is how Jay knew where I was. ) Me: I dont need you to do that. J: im not trying to start a fight (OP)i think you should contact (my dad) Me: what?? J: he was right about you should be doing something with your life, but he shouldn't of kicked you out. Me: I know sure as hell he didnt send you to say that J: no, because he's just as stubborn as you. Me: I'm not going to contact him, he clearly knows where I am if he can send you . if he wants to be in contact fine But I'm not gonna be the one dialing the number.
I walked away at that point. I dont want to contact him because I think my dad was wrong for kicking me out and I dont want to talk to him especially if I have to start it.
Since I have a job now and a place to live, I think I should just do that instead because If I did manage to move back in with him, he'd probably still make me get a job, this way I dont have to see him or live under his rules.
I got split responses on whether I would be in the wrong for not reaching out before it got taken down so I now I want some advice on what to do
submitted by FaithlessnessLazy701 to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 22:17 GoastRiter [GUIDE] Living Large in Los Santos: Unleashing Chaos. Making Friends and Rediscovering the Thrill of GTA Online!

If you're reading this, perhaps you're like me. You have most things you want in GTA Online. You've "done it all". And now you're bored.
But... have you *really* done it all? Turns out, most of us haven't. There's so much to do in this game, and it's easy to get stuck in old habits that prevent us from discovering everything there is to do in Los Santos!
So I began writing down all my ideas for having fun in the game, and basically use these suggestions as guidelines to always find something new to do. It has completely reinvigorated my joy for the game, and I hope it can help you do the same!
If you're having trouble with motivation or inspiration, then I suggest picking something at random from the list and just doing it! You might disccover that you love it, just like I did!
And if you have anything more to add, please share your comments so that we can all help build this list together. :)
​
Let's go!
​
submitted by GoastRiter to u/GoastRiter [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 22:15 GoastRiter [GUIDE] Living Large in Los Santos: Unleashing Chaos. Making Friends and Rediscovering the Thrill of GTA Online!

If you're reading this, perhaps you're like me. You have most things you want in GTA Online. You've "done it all". And now you're bored.
But... have you *really* done it all? Turns out, most of us haven't. There's so much to do in this game, and it's easy to get stuck in old habits that prevent us from discovering everything there is to do in Los Santos!
So I began writing down all my ideas for having fun in the game, and basically use these suggestions as guidelines to always find something new to do. It has completely reinvigorated my joy for the game, and I hope it can help you do the same!
If you're having trouble with motivation or inspiration, then I suggest picking something at random from the list and just doing it! You might disccover that you love it, just like I did!
And if you have anything more to add, please share your comments so that we can all help build this list together. :)
​
Let's go!
​
submitted by GoastRiter to gtaonline [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 21:23 girl_from_the_crypt Stuck on earth and looking for a job: I'm being recruited by a cult

It’s nice not to be alone. I’ve been staying at Nettie Peterson’s house, tending to her garden in her stead while she's at work. I just sit there reading in the sun, to be honest. When she came back from the larvae today, she was in a surprisingly peaceful mood. Not exactly happy or content, but satisfied. I made us some tea and we settled in to soak up the flowery scents and sweet air. I took the time to tell her in detail about meeting Kit Sutton in the grotto, relaying the other woman’s message. It got a genuinely warm smile out of her; a sad one, but a smile nonetheless.
“Your server texted me earlier to apologize for… well, basically outing me and baring a private secret to my closest friend of five years,” she informed me. “Now that I think about it, I have no idea when or how that boy got my number… Oh, but he was sweet. I told him we were cool.” She took a long sip of her tea.
"Don't forgive him for my sake. If that's what's happening here."
"It's not."
"You really aren't mad anymore? I would be."
"I guess I'm just a very forgiving person." She gave me a sidelong grin and a shrug.
"Nettie, how'd your breeders die? I don't know if this is okay to ask. I hope it is."
"Uh." My savior human took a deep breath. "That, um… it's okay. Just unexpected. It was a car accident. That's all there is to it. I was at summer camp when it happened. Some college kid got drunk, sat down in his car and made me an orphan. I was thirteen… My auntie took care of me afterwards. You know, Elijah's mom. She tried, but it wasn't the same. She was too much for me sometimes, pretty often, if I'm being honest. My mother was so, so different. Both my parents were. My dad had made it into money, so they were never really worried about my future or what I wanted to do with my life. They said I'd always have their support. I guess that made me kinda sheltered but… I don't know. I had a nice childhood, sue me."
She sighed. "Anyways, my aunt was really demanding when it came to school and stuff. I was always a good student but my grades dropped after my parents' crash, and it never got better. So she was picking fights over that all the time. I did recover over my last year, but no thanks to her, I'll have you know."
"And do you miss them?"
"Of course I do. Who wouldn't?"
I shrugged.
Nettie leaned forward, catching my eyes. "Don't you miss your parents? Or was that different where you're from?"
"Breeders aren't like that at home." I paused. "Weren't. They protected their offspring for the first couple years of their life, but afterwards, everyone went their own way. And it was never more than that, just protection and a supply of nutrients. You wouldn't find any breeders kissing or cuddling their young like people do here."
"Oh. That's kinda sad."
"It's it? I never thought about it. Although sometimes I figure infancy in this dimension would have been a pleasant experience. It's nice being held. I wouldn't have minded it, had I known that feeling sooner." I raised my head to smile at her. "Then again, you've given me a lot in that regard."
Nettie reached out to squeeze my hand. "Baby girl." She said nothing else for a while. "So, what's this about Eli having to get his car fixed?"
"One of the windows got smashed in." I held her gently searching gaze. "Nothing was taken."
"Baby girl."
"Hm?"
"Baby. Girl."
I groaned. "A folder. With an interrogation transcript from one of the murder cultists. Mary Markov gave it to me."
"And you didn't want to tell me this why?"
I pursed my lips.
Nettie Peterson crossed her arms, raising a brow at me. "I came clean about dating the fishwoman, so you really owe it to me to keep me informed on any magical stalkers you got."
"I don't know that I'd call them a stalker."
"What would you call them?"
"Jewel." My hand absently began tracing lines on my stomach. "That's their name, apparently."
"The creep who hit on you and then disemboweled you?"
"I don't know that they disemboweled me."
"They had to stuff your guts back in at the clinic," my savior human reminded me.
"Stop bringing that up, please." I feel so weak whenever I think about them. Totally helpless. I took a deep, cleansing breath before settling against the backrest of my chair, grounding myself. Then I unpacked.
I'm turning into a regular unreliable narrator with my storytelling for this blog, aren't I. As you may or may not have guessed, there is another reason for me staying over at Nettie's the last couple days. Maybe she sensed it somehow—she claims to have mother's intuition, and even though she's not technically my parent, I believe her. Or perhaps Elijah Carter shared his suspicions with her. Either way, it's true. I seem to have acquired a stalker. I can't hold down a job but at least I've got that going for me. Let me stay over at the beginning.
The day after Eli and I had talked to Kit in the grotto—referring to her as Princess Chandra still doesn't feel right—I was driving out for gas. The whole time while I was filling up my car, I had this feeling that I was being watched. It was beyond uncomfortable, and I kept glancing into the rearview mirror during the drive back. I thought I could hear the roar of a motorcycle, but whenever I tried to focus on the sound or started looking for the source, it seemed to be escaping me. I double-checked whether I'd locked my door that night. In fact, I triple-checked. I was on edge. It was an eerie, uncanny sensation, like bugs crawling beneath my skin. I made dinner, then tried to sit still as I ate it in front of my television.
I ended up calling Elijah. We didn't talk about anything important, but he was glad to stay on the phone with me while I washed up and got ready for bed. It might have been his pleasing dark baritone or the weary relaxation that always swings along when he speaks, but something about his voice helped me unwind. I ended up falling asleep while still on the call. I was faintly aware of him saying my name and then chuckling and hanging up when he received a snore in response.
I have always enjoyed the transition into the sleeping state. My eyelids growing heavier, the world losing focus, my mind drifting off… It's such a soothing, peaceful process. I've found that I dislike dreaming, though. You never know what you get. I've had all sorts of rattling dreams, ranging anywhere from nightmarish and homesick to sexually confusing. But this one truly took the cake, as they say.
It started with me walking through an unfamiliar neighborhood that looked like an abstraction of my own. It was far too shiny and colorful, and not in an aesthetically pleasing way. I was not really walking either—my feet were heavy as lead, my bare skin unprotected from the harsh breeze assaulting my body. I kept staggering forward, aimless and confused, wishing for shelter but unsure of where to find it. My head was reeling from the hunger and desperation, and there was not a soul in sight to help. I started knocking on random doors, but nobody opened. House by house, I was getting increasingly frustrated. The knocks turned into incessant pounding, the sound mingling with my crying. The tears blurring my vision made it even harder to press on. Before long, I was weeping intensely, my steps becoming more frantic as I continued heading from door to door.
Why was nobody answering me? I could hear people talking in hushed voices behind the walls, I could see their silhouettes flitting to and fro in the windows. Anger began to bubble up inside me, heating up my chest and constricting my throat. My fist became more forceful as it clashed with the surface of each door, until I started to throw my whole body against them. My sobs turned into howls of fury, I was beginning to yell obscenities and outlandish threats before finally, my body started to turn. This wasn’t the silent transition I was used to, however.
I could feel my skin rip open as it gave way for my tentacles to spring free. Normally, it’s like these extra appendages simply melt out of my body. It’s not painful, and I don’t even really pay attention to the sensation most of the time. But this, this was pure agony. I broke down in the middle of the street, wailing like a creature of myth. How could a dream give me this kind of anguish? I suppose I knew deep down that I was dreaming, and I willed myself to wake up, to emerge from this state…
That’s when a thought crossed my mind. Was this really a dream?
It didn’t seem like one. It felt way too real and structured, almost coming off as scripted. Like an experience that someone had thought up and planned out for me, vaguely meaningful, maybe in an attempt to prove some kind of point, maybe just to terrorize me. The realization had my blood run cold, and that little part of my conscience that was aware of this not being real went wild. What in the world was happening to me? Who was doing this to me, and just how? And yet, a spark of fight lit up within me over it all. I had to tear myself out of this trance by any means necessary.
For a moment, I managed to push aside the pain and uncertainty, trying to focus. I pushed against the heaviness of sleep, through the fog of my clouded mind. Apparently, that was enough. The surreal, unnaturally bright world around me grew dark and I could once more make out the familiar shadowy outlines of my bedroom. I was in the present, back in the actual, physical realm of the waking.
The first thing I noticed was that my eyes were burning. There was a demanding pressure around my brows and lids, and my heart sank when I realized it was fingers peeling them open. My nightlight provided a soft blue sheen that came to rest on a chair that had been pushed up from my bedside, and furthermore, on the figure that occupied it. Their arms were extended, their hands resting on both sides of my face as they forced my eyes open. In the gentle cerulean glow, I recognized the shimmering vast irises of the cultist.
A deep, almost primal fear took hold of me. This was worse than the not-dream, a thousand times worse. The cold that seeped into my bones at the mere sight of them sent shivers running up and down my spine, trickling through my body like electric shocks.
I instantly started thrashing, or I would have liked to; except not a single muscle in my body would respond to the frantic outcries of my frenzied mind. My eyeballs had gone as dry as sandpaper, the painful sting penetrating my vision and setting my senses ablaze, paired with an accompanying feeling of nausea. And yet, I couldn’t help but remain transfixed on that horrid stare piercing into mine. My lips parted a mere fracture of an inch, just enough for me to take in a ragged, wheezing breath that I’d meant to give way to a shout. Not a single sound left my parched throat, though. Still, the cultist appeared to notice that I was awake.
With a sigh, they withdrew, releasing my eyes for me to blink furiously. The moment they averted their gaze, I covered my face with my hands, aggravated tears wetting my trembling palms. “You piece of shit,” I pressed out the second I regained my voice. “You fucking piece of shit…” I found myself unable to form any clear thoughts. My heart was thundering in my chest, my ears were ringing—I was a horrified, shaking mess.
“I didn’t think you’d wake up.” There was genuine astonishment in their tone. “Proper shame, too, I was just getting started.”
“What the fuck,” I breathed, still shielding my face. “How the hell did you get in here? Why… just… just why—what even was that?”
“What, you think doors keep me out? What a very human notion.”
I was slowly beginning to recover my wits, reason restoring to her throne. I squeezed my eyes shut, opening my mouth as my fangs came out. “You’re not getting out of here alive.”
“Calm down, okay? I was just having some fun. I was going to let you wake up, alright?” their disembodied voice came from my bedside. “I’m here to talk, is all.”
I vaguely turned my head in their direction. I knew I shouldn’t even bother, I should rip the bastard’s throat out now that I had the chance. There was something there, though; something in their words intrigued me. Besides, they could have easily killed me in my sleep, so why didn’t they? There was something they were after. I figured I would have to tell Mary Markov about this, and the more information I’d be able to give her, the better. “This feels like a fever dream,” I muttered.
“Doesn’t it?” Jewel asked giddily. “I get that a lot.”
“Speak then, leech. What is going on here?”
“I came to—Oh, will you open your eyes already? I’m not gonna try anything else, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Don’t you dare mock me.” I tried to mask the tremor in my voice. “Either you talk now or I swear I’ll skin you.”
“Okay, well. I’m here on behalf of the Collective. You have one week to report to the warehouse. We’ll have someone waiting there to welcome you. Simply put, you’ll join our cause. But you know, you can sleep on it or whatever. Take your time. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision soon, especially since there’s only the one option, really.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Part of me considered the possibility of all of this merely being part of another, bigger dream, but sadly, everything seemed to point against it. “What if I don’t?”
“Then we will come after you and probably the rest of your little found family, too,” Jewel explained nonchalantly.
“You’re awfully sure I’d let you.”
“Yes, yes, you grow big, sharp teeth and tentacles, I get it. You’re a menace. To three to four people. But if you’re up against half a dozen, all armed and unintimidated by your admittedly glorious and utterly terrifying appearance, I imagine things would be different.”
I wanted to offer some sort of confident riposte, but I simply couldn’t. A tiny voice inside my head actually agreed. “So what is your cause? Or are you aiming to recruit me based on fear alone?”
“Oh, not at all—I was just getting there. We want to, in essence, end all things.”
A brief silence settled upon us. I dropped my hands to lock eyes with Jewel, this time without any hypnotic side effects. They were beaming at me, my nightlight adding an unearthly quality to their bright, dimpling smile.
“What?”
Jewel’s grin grew wider. “Oh, you heard me, baby. We want to… we will bring about the apocalypse. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be fast. It’d be a boon if we had another being such as yourself at our side for it.”
“Another?”
Impossibly, the corners of the cultist’s mouth curled even further, their eyes shining with mirth. They tossed their pale blond hair, responding only with a huff of laughter.
“You,” I whispered. “You too.” I swallowed, reaching up to massage my throbbing temples. “Why do you want this world to end? You aren’t native to it, right? But do you really hate it that much?”
“Oh, it’s not that I hate it. I just don’t care for it all that much. Okay, listen, it’s not gonna be a real apocalypse. It’s just gonna look like it for a moment. And sure, the humans may or may not survive—they probably won’t, not gonna lie—but it’ll be for the greater good, and the two of us are gonna make it for sure.”
I frowned. “What?”
“You keep saying that.”
“Yes, because you aren’t making any sense. I don’t get what you’re trying to tell me.”
Jewel sighed. “Well, I can’t give you everything. Just… just trust me. You’ll want to be on our side, you’re gonna want to help us. Again, you literally have no other choice, so… yeah.”
“You know, I’ve been asked to go on a murderous rampage by someone far more attractive before, and I still said no.”
“Oh, you won’t be doing any of the killing. Not much, at any rate.”
“That’s a great comfort to me,” I said, without much sarcasm at all.
Jewel tilted their head at me. “I gotta admit, I do not get you. I kinda wish I did, though. Anyways, I guess I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodnight.”
“So you’ll head right out now? Just like that?”
They twinkled at me. “Want me to stay?”
“Oh, Lord, no.”
“Yeah, well, if you wanna fight now, I gotta disappoint you. I’m not feeling up to it.”
I wanted to tell them that it was not their decision to make, that I wouldn’t let them leave, but somehow, I thought better of it. Quelling the anger raging inside of me, I strained to keep my tone calm. “What was your home like? What kind of a dimension are you from?”
The question seemed to catch them off guard. “Please don’t ask me things like that.”
“Why?”
“You… just stop.” Their voice had suddenly become brittle and quiet. I’d rattled them. A warm feeling of glorious triumph surged through me like a wave.
“Do you remember what they called you back there? I don’t. Maybe we didn’t even have names, I really don’t know anymore.” I shrugged.
Jewel rose to their feet a little too quickly. Their eyes were shining with moisture, and before they could wipe them dry, a single tear rolled down their cheek. To my complete astonishment, it hardened the second it dropped off their chin, forming a tiny, sparkling yellow stone. They caught it with practiced precision, hastily stuffing it into the pocket of their jeans. “‘Scuse me, I, uh… I gotta go. See you soon.” Without losing another word, they headed out into the living room, and after another moment, I heard the front door slam. The noise of a motorcycle engine revving was carried in on the breeze through my open window a minute later.
I stayed seated upright in my bed, staring blankly at the wall across from me.
Thus ended my retelling of events to Nettie Peterson, taking us back into the garden. She regarded me with wide eyes, her jaw slackened. She then shook her head, letting out a string of incoherent murmurs as she sank back into her seat. “I don’t believe this,” she breathed. “What… what are you gonna do about this? You’re not seriously gonna go along with what that psycho wants from you, right? Have you told the agency yet?”
“No,” I admitted. “And I haven’t been to the warehouse either. My week is not up yet, so that’s probably okay… I really don’t know what to do, though.”
“Well, that’s an easy one. You call this Markov-lady, have her raid the warehouse and arrest every last one of those freaks she can find!”
“But they won’t leave it at that. They’ll come after me. And you, too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can hold my own.n” lg
“I’m not saying you can’t, but—”
“No buts. I’ll be fine. Both of us will be. And I hope you know I won’t have you going back to your apartment after this. You’re staying here with me, where it’s safe.” Her eyes looked almost golden in the light of the setting sun. “Let's go back inside. It’s time I showed you where I hide my guns.”
I pursed my lips. “Gun-s? As in plural?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She took me by the hand, pulling me to my feet with a melodic hum falling from her lips.
I know I have a lot going on in my life right now, but Lord, am I grateful that this woman’s in it.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
19: shopping cart
20: olms and Jewels
21: long hair
submitted by girl_from_the_crypt to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 20:42 KaleAdministrative97 How can I replace info dumping/ description with plot?

After receiving feedback from readers, the main issue of my writing is that I describe a lot of things, and it feels like an infodump. Nothing much actually... happened.
I agree with this, because one of the issue I always struggled with is creating plot.
Here is a small sample of Chapter 3
The week following the accident. A psychologist had moved into the guest room. She was to monitor Beverly’s behavior for abnormal trauma response. They sat under the kitchen light. Frances held his forehead. The phone glued to his ear. Two other people sat with him at the island, laptops open in front of them. These two were typing hard and fast. A printer was set up on the countertop. It was spitting out papers one after the other. That same week, Beverly was struck by insomnia. Every morning she was always exhausted, and each night she anguished the fight to make herself sleep. She counted the days to her mother’s funeral. She couldn’t tell her father about her terrible insomnia. She feared that Frances would be annoyed with her. Beverly was a mama's girl. She wasn’t as close to Frances. As a young girl, she was raised by a single mother and barely saw Frances. He came and went like a ghost haunting their mini mansion. Frances was gone weeks and months on end to attend workshops and seminars. His career was the number one priority. Beverly learned to assuage neglect from none other than her mother. A petite and scared woman stuck inside of a bubble. Her mother struggled with self worth. She was belittled as a trophy wife. The marriage and the wife and the newborn daughter played second fiddle to France’s ruthless ambitions. She couldn’t leave Frances as much as she wanted. She had to think of her daughter first. She didn't want to raise Beverly without a father. What she perceived as her achilles heel was her lack of financial independence. Frances had no penchant to throw both his wife and daughter onto the street as punishment. So, her mother endured a loveless marriage until her tragic death. Frances never cared to nurture a relationship with his only child. That was not going to change with the death of his wife. On the day of the funeral, Frances threatened to lock up Beverly in the bathroom for the whole funeral procession had she cried too much at the burial ceremony. When all was done and earth with, and his wife's casket buried six feet deep inside the earth, Frances hired a full time tutor that acted as full time babysitter for a prepubescent Beverly, and he was off again, not to be seen again for a long time. That's what professor's do, they were always busy. Beverly was never a priority.
...........................
I probably should expand on the funeral. But what ends up happening is that I describe it, and again I fall into the pitfall of info dumping. How do you suggest that I tranform the funeral into an event happening/plot?
The issue is I don't know how to expand to make stuff happen; I either explain it or describe it. I can describe the psychologist moving into the house to monitor beverly. But how can I turn that into plot? - I don't know. All I end up doing is describing the psychologist moving in but that would be info dumping.
As a reader, I have noticed that when I read novels by other authors, I can't really tell the difference between description/infodump and actual plot happening. And, this is blindpsot has stayed with me and transferred to when I write my own stuff.
submitted by KaleAdministrative97 to writinghelp [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 19:34 redditnamesucks A fortuitous slip: Did Vietnam's Vice Minister of Education slip and fall to his death? Or did something else happen?

The morning of October 17th 2019 was a cool and bright autumn day, two words rarely used to describe the treacherous Hanoi’s weather, when Lê Hải An arrived at his workplace, the Ministry of Education on 35 Đại Cồ Việt street, Hai Bà Trưng district, Hà Nội. Normally, he would have had a big breakfast at the office canteen then head off to his office at the second floor where he would spend the rest of his day trying to solve the numerous problems plaguing Vietnam’s education.
At 7:10 AM, someone spotted a figure falling from the 8th floor. There was a blood-curling smash; the figure was declared dead on impact. It wasn’t hard for people to identify the man.
In just a few hours, public media across Vietnam would declare that Vice Minister Lê Hải An had died. The reason?
He slipped and fell off the balcony.
The story I am about to tell you is not just a simple fall.
The story I am about to tell you sounds like something out of a conspiracy theory, the one spewed by tinfoil hat wearers on the street, the one peddled by shock websites and fringe extremist forums, the kind that would make you think it was a rejected Hollywood script and not real life. And I must admit, I have to work with secondary foreign sources with many being biased and some outright spewing baseless conspiracy theories. Many original sources had been removed or edited, forever lost into a memory hole resembling that of 1984. In trying to be faithful, I've removed a lot more "fantastical" elements that have no proof to be cross-checked; I will do my best to paint a complete picture of not only who Lê Hải An was, but the treacherous world around him, a nightmarish jungle of political infighting.
To those who don’t believe, I ask you to just give me the benefit of the doubt and remember this one thing:
“This is Vietnam.”
PART 1: The model teacher
In Vietnam, we have this saying: “Tôn sư trọng đạo” meaning “To worship your teachers and to respect your study.” A teacher was not simply a teacher; he/she was the paragon of society, the enlightener, the one who upheld all the virtues of society, who embodied such virtues, and who passed on such virtue to younger generations.
Lê Hải An was one such man.
Born in April 1st 1971 in Hà Nội, An was the son of Lê Hải Châu, a famous educator whose mathematics book was once the golden standard of Vietnamese mathematics education. In fact, if you were in Vietnamese highschool in the 90s to early 2000s, you would have used one of his books. For his contribution, Châu was awarded the title “The People’s Teacher,” a once highly prestigious prize reserved for the most devoted teacher. Given his family’s background, An was said to be set for life.
But An did not take the easy way. He challenged himself continuously, was handpicked as a government-sponsored student to study Mining and Geology at Moscow State University of Geodesy and Cartography. Even late in his career, he still pursued his passion for the mining industry, successfully defending a thesis on the application of neural networks in the oil industry at the Heriot-Watt University.
Given his background and training, Lê Hải An was made a professor at the Hanoi University of Mining and Geology. At first he was a teacher at the Petroleum department, but rose steadily through the rank. To his students, he was a knowledgeable yet compassionate teacher who never sought to exert his authority; to his colleagues, he was a man of honor, of dignity, representing the paragon of teachers thought to have been lost. Nobody complained when he was made the University’s principal; nobody complained when Prime Minister Nguyễn Xuân Phúc appointed An to be the Vice Minister of the much troubled Ministry of Education.
Well, maybe not nobody.
PART 2: You have to go to Hà Giang and take the national exam
For every Vietnamese students, nothing struck the fear of God in them worse than the word "National Exam." Not as competitive as the Chinese Gaokao or the Korean Suneung, it is the stuff of nightmare that have made and broken life. Students competed for the sweet sweet spot at the Police Academy and Military Academy (It is in fact more difficult to become a cop or an army officer in Vietnam than to become a doctoteacheengineeIT technician); parents wait anxiously for their children's performance to show off to friends and families; educators wait for the top scores to make their annual achievement look good so they can attract better students to their high school.
Exam season rolled around, and the results were released by July 11th 2018. As soon as the scores came out, all of Vietnam was shocked.
Of all the 64 cities and provinces, Hà Giang scored the highest in the national exam, with the highest number of “Thủ Khoa” or “The top scorer.” This, to many, was a surprise: not only Hà Giang was the poorest province in all of Vietnam, it traditionally had high illiteracy rate, high dropout rate, low graduation rate, low university admission rate, and so on and so forth. The fact that during the same year Hà Giang had the highest rate of failure to graduate from high school also raised eyebrows.
And Hà Giang was not the only province. Sơn La and Hòa Bình, two other terrible performers, also scored suspiciously well, outmatching province such as Thanh Hóa-Nghệ An-Hà Tĩnh who have been known as "Đất Học" or "The land of the studious."
Immediately, people began to cry foul. There was a lot of anger: a lot of students who had worked their whole lives were in danger of losing their spots to some “irregularities.” A common saying began to emerge: “Em phải đến Hà Giang thi đại học” or “You have to go to Hà Giang and take the national exam.” Investigations were launched into the Ministry of Education just one day after the score was released.
Quick investigation revealed that this was not just some "irregularities" but a systematic scheme, raising scores for test-takers: some exam takers received a nine points out of a total of ten points boost for individual exam, and some had their total points raised by thirty points out of a total of forty. Not only that, the exam-takers who benefitted from this were some of the most powerful people in Vietnam. Take the case of Hà Giang: one of the person whose scores were raised was Triệu Ngọc Mai, daughter's of Triệu Tài Vinh, General Secretary of Hà Giang. The Triệu clan ruled Hà Giang as a fiefdom of their own, holding most important positions; they had strong ties with the Minister of Education Phùng Xuân Nhạ, a widely-hated and despised figures for his bare-faced corruption and mismanagement, and the President of Vietnam Trần Đại Quang. People were expecting the investigation would go to nowhere - afterall, who dared to incur the wrath of the President of Vietnam?
Then, out of nowhere, Trần Đại Quang died.
On September 21st 2018, the fit and healthy Trần Đại Quang suddenly passed away from “a rare and unknown virus which he contracted during his trips.”
No more explanation was given. One month later, on November 3rd 2018, Lê Hải An received Decision 1475/QĐ-TTg from Prime Minister Nguyễn Xuân Phúc himself, making him the Vice Minister of Education and in charge of the National Examination scandal
PART 3: His final moment
For the next year, An worked with diligence, doing his best to hold the perpetrators accountable. By the numerous newspaper articles, it was clear he was the one leading the charge while his superior, Nhạ, kept a low profile and only appeared on the media every now and then to make some empty speech. He worked hard, showing up at his office early and having breakfast in the office’s canteen to save time, then immediately dived into work in his office on the second floor. His work yielded results: 16 bureaucrats were arrested, 222 exam takers were exposed, large sums of bribes were confiscated. To many, perhaps An included, it wasn’t enough. Everyone knew the big fish Nhạ was still out there, and everyone was itching to see him fall.
It was on the morning of October 17th 2019 when Lê Hải An arrived at his workplace, the Ministry of Education on 35 Đại Cồ Việt street, Hai Bà Trưng district, Hà Nội. We had little idea of what had happened on that day, but what we knew painted a very strange picture.
Normally, An would go straight to his office on the second floor, rarely having any reasons to go anywhere else. And, given the early hour, most other offices would be empty.
Yet, on that day, An seemed to have gone to the eighth floor. There was no record of what he was doing there or who he was meeting; the floor also had no camera. Photographs of the crime scene showed a table which supposedly An had sat - this table had an almost empty glass of cold tea, a cigarette pack, and an ashtray with ash in it. Another table was photographed with an old red gym bag and a nylon bag containing non-descript items; next to this table was a chair with another plastic bag containing non-descript items on it. All the tables were seated next to a balcony which was about 80 centimeters tall. An was described to be 180 centimeters tall, and when his body was discovered it was lying parallel to the building from which he fell from next to a tree but seemingly did not hit it.
Given all the evidence, by 8:30 AM it was concluded that An slipped and fell. No more investigation was made
PART 4: The truth won’t set you free
Of course, the conclusion did not satisfy anybody.
On one hand, there is very low trust for the Vietnamese police who have shown their ineptitude and willingness to fake evidence time and time again. With miscarriage of justice cases such as Hồ Duy Hải and Huỳnh Văn Nén fresh in every one’s mind, the police’s conclusion lost even more credits. The fact that the police quickly concluded An slipped and fell only at most two hours after they were notified of the accident and refused to investigate any further reek of a cover-up.
But, even with the benefit of doubt for the police, the idea of An slipping and falling was deemed unthinkable to many. For one thing, people did not understand why An went to the eighth floor when his office was on the second floor. If he was there on business, what business could it be at such an early hour (government offices in Vietnam often begin work at 8:00 AM if not 9:00 AM.) If he was there to meet someone, who was that someone and why was he not investigated? No investigation was made into his phone or email either.
Then there was the balcony.
The balcony was described by some to be eighty centimeter tall, which would make slipping a feasible case for someone 1.8 meter tall like An. However, images from the crime scene show a police man standing next to the balcony and the balcony reaching his chest. Given that the minimum height to be accepted to the police academy is 1.64 meters, we are looking at a 1.2 meter tall balcony at the very least. It will be very hard to slip and fall over, unless someone was leaning over it. But why would anybody do such a thing? Some suggested he was drunk and tired and this could have been the case, but with no toxicology report done on him there was no way to make sure.
Some commentators also pointed out that even if An leaned out and fell, his body would have landed in a perpendicular angle with the building block he was falling out from. Yet, in the crime scene image, he was shown lying parallel to the building, as if he had rolled over on his side. There were no obstacles on the way down so his falling body could not have hit anything. The only thing in his way was a tree, but the branches were very frail and images did not show any conclusive evidence that he hit the tree on his way down.
So, if he did not slip and fall, what else could have happened?
Suicide was also suggested and has remained a strong contender. It must be remembered that An was an important man being surrounded by enemies. He had a very heavy burden to shoulder and had to endure political shenanigans from all sides. Perhaps, the pressure had broken the hitherto earnest teacher who had not had a taste for the wild political arena. So, he decided to go to the eighth floor, climbed over it (which could have required him to drape over the balcony, explaining why his body was found parallel to the building) then let himself fall.
Of course, some don’t agree with the idea. They pointed out he was a very happy, very respected man with a long and promising career, a loving family, and a dedication towards a higher calling. Men like him, they said, rarely killed themselves. While this could be true, this “proof” is very weak as many successful men have committed suicide. Perhaps, he was only showing himself to be happy; perhaps there was something else going on with his life that we would never know.
Finally, and perhaps the most pervasive, is the idea An was killed. Of course, given that this theory was born out of circumstantial evidence not any real evidence, this belongs more to the conspiracy theory bin. The temptation was there: An was leading the crusade against some very powerful individual, many of whom had both the power and desire to get rid of someone like An. If the former President himself could die so mysteriously while in office, who was to say An was safe? The police’s quick conclusion and refusal to investigate any further as well as the image of a supposedly official letter from his wife begging for police protection (now scrubbed off the internet) only added more flame to the fire.
So, assuming An was killed, who had killed him?
The obvious answer to many would be Nhạ: he was An’s boss, he was investigated by An, he could’ve lost his power and friends and influence. He wanted An dead, had the means to do so, and was therefore the prime suspect. The many clans whose children’s road to power An had dashed such as the Triệu clan also had axes to grind with An.
However, there was another suspect.
Prime Minister Nguyễn Xuân Phúc, the man who had appointed An to the position himself.
Before this all happened, Phúc was rumored to be in a power struggle with President Trần Đại Quang and the Ministry of Public Security. After Quang’s death in 2018, Phúc was trying to court Quang’s Department of Public Security to his side. The new head of this Department was Tô Lâm (The man who was videoed eating at Salt Bae’s place in London while Vietnam was under lockdown and starving.) Perhaps, as a gesture of peace, Phúc sold out his subordinate as an “apology.”
Ultimately, given that these theories are born out of the lack of evidence and the coincidence, we cannot accept them as “reasonable.”
PART 5: Farewell
On the 21st of October 2019, Lê Hải An’s funeral was held. It was a simple affair and yet it attracted thousands of mourners, ranging from the Vietnamese elites to his students. To many, the loss of An was a great loss to this world. Even without his work to clean up the Ministry of Education, he was an honest, hard-working, humble man who had always tried his best to live up to the image of the model teacher that had become so rare in modern Vietnam. The fact that such a good man had to die so early only rubbed more salt into the open wound.
But time will fly. Life will move on, heals will wound, stories will be forgotten, people will forget. Lê Hải An will one day fade into obscurity, and with him the question:
“What happened to Lê Hải An on October 17th 2019?”
Source
[1] https://canhco.net/lo-hinh-anh-hien-truong-tang-8-va-loi-khai-nhan-chung-khi-ong-le-hai-an-nga-xuong-tu-vong-p329165.html
[2] https://tuoitre.vn/thu-truong-bo-giao-duc-dao-tao-le-hai-an-qua-doi-vi-nga-tu-tang-cao-20191017084152884.htm
[3] https://kienthuc.net.vn/xa-hoi/su-that-ve-thu-truong-bo-gddt-le-hai-an-nga-lau-qua-doi-o-tru-so-bo-1291388.html
[4] https://nld.com.vn/thoi-su/dieu-tra-nguyen-nhan-tu-vong-cua-thu-truong-bo-gd-dt-le-hai-an-20191017102746586.htm
Shameless self-promotion
In the next episode of "The Mysteries of Vietnam," we will return to a re-write and updated version of the first case I wrote about years ago: did Hồ Duy Hải murder two innocent postal workers at Cầu Voi post office, or was it the work of a serial killer on the loose? And why is the Vietnamese government intervening in the case?
submitted by redditnamesucks to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 18:15 challenge_accepted22 I (40F) just blew up my marriage with husband (46M). Now I don't know what to do.

Last night started pretty normal. Husband and I had a pretty laid back evening. For background, we had a pretty stable relationship; we have a good division of labor and don't argue about finances. There have been a few hot button issues that keep recurring over our 15 year relationship; 10 year marriage.
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The first is that his family walks all over me when they come to visit. They have gotten somewhat better, but still treat my home like it's their personal Airbnb: taking over my kitchen, taking the remote and choosing what we are watching on TV, declaring what will be for dinner, setting up games at the table and saying everyone is going to play, and inviting additional people to come and stay without asking. I feel invisible and disrespected. Husband knows this, and has spoken to his dad, who has improved a little.
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The second is that SIL gave an ex girlfriend Husband's phone number when they ran into each other right after Husband and I got married. Husband usually had me check his phone when he gets messages while working in the yard to determine whether it's important enough disturb his work. I see these messages where she is majorly flirty, complaining about her marriage (she is now divorced), and reminiscing on their old relationship. I felt betrayed. I told Husband that I felt uncomfortable with him messaging her. He explained SIL gave her his contact info and they started messaging. I felt doubly betrayed. He said he didn't see a reason not to keep messaging her.
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Third: we moved for his career 2 times, so I often don't know people in our new locations. When we go to events, he completely leaves me alone where I don't know anyone. I've asked him to stay with me while he mingles with people, but he continues to "disappear" at parties. Recently, we went to New Orleans for a wedding. During the second parade he took off running ahead and left me alone marching in the back down the darkness of Bourbon Street.
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There are others issues... for the past 3 months our sex live was completely dead. Anyway, last weekend SIL came to visit. She was fine at first, but then took over the kitchen. Then she took our clothes out of the washing machine (not washed yet) and put her clothes in. She had her foster children there and the whole time she yelled, and yelled, and yelled at them. I was so exhausted hosting and overwhelmed by the yelling. I think the 4 year old spent more time standing looking at the wall in time out than doing anything else. I was so overstimulated and sad the whole time. She left on Tuesday and I had nightmares about her yelling and the children crying for days afterward.
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So on to last night. I asked Husband if he saw a message I sent on FB. I don't usually use FB, so he was surprised and said he didn't get it. He got his phone and showed me. I see the name of Ex on the list of people he has been messaging. After the exhausting weekend feeling disrespected, this was just like a punch in the stomach. I agreed that I didn't see the message and showed him on my end that it was sent. We agreed it was odd.
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Later, I could not hold it in. I said I saw Ex on his messages. I was hurt. He got defensive and said it's fine. Nothing is going on. I said it still upsets me. He yells and brings up all sorts of things that were not related. I started watching his body language. Time seemed to slow down and it was like I was no longer in my own body. I calmly and slowly walked up to him. Took my ring off. Put the ring in his hand and said. "I'm done. It's over. I'm going to take my things out of our room and sleep in the guest room. Keep your friend. I'm done." At the time I was so eerily calm. I meant what I said.
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I still cannot believe I did this. I still think I meant it. I really love my husband, but I am not feeling loved. It feels like I'm trying to puppeteer a skeleton in this marriage. I don't know what to do now. We are talking civilly this morning but have not brought it up. I am torn. Part of me can't see what a life without him would look like, but another part doesn't know that this is a situation I can sustain. We have gone to counseling before, but it was not helpful. I always left feeling worse, and so did he. What are your thoughts? Advice please!
submitted by challenge_accepted22 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 17:57 tryna_write DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE

I parked in the tower's lot, letting my headlights bore into the amalgam of twisted metal and glass for a few moments before shutting them off.
Josh muttered, his voice low. "We're really doing this, huh?"
He ran a hand through his mop of curly hair— a dumb tic he developed last summer when his girlfriend, Annabeth, told him it was sexy. She was beside him now, cuddled up in the backseat across his lap.
I glanced at my own girlfriend, Ellie, in the passenger seat. She was trying her damndest to appear brave, but I knew better. There was no way she was comfortable with trespassing tonight.
I sighed, realizing that Josh would also chicken out.
"We're doing this? You sure you want to come?" I prodded.
Josh shifted in his seat, hand running through his hair yet again. "Maybe it's better if I stay in the truck.”
Annabeth shrugged next to him, unsurprised.
"Me, too,” Ellie chimed in, nodding at Josh.
Annabeth met my eyes, a glimmer of understanding passing between us. Our partners were both boring, god-awful goody two shoes.
"Pussies," I jabbed, swinging open my door without giving them a moment to respond.
Annabeth hopped out behind me, waving at the two losers in the truck before spinning towards me with a grin on her face.
"They're weird," she said, rolling her eyes.
For a moment, I was drinking in the way her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight. A light breeze tickled at our faces, sending sparkles of her moon-lit hair between us.
"Yup," I mustered.
I turned, strolling towards the chain link fence that formed a circular perimeter around the base of Sabe's Tower.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of abandoned potential, whispering of times past when our town's inhabitants thought we'd hit a population boom, becoming the Houston of West Virginia. In the 70s, our success was tied to coal. Jobs flooded in, and with them, a myriad of people trying to make their way in life. Then the mines abruptly ran dry, decimating our town's economy. Since that time, our population has done nothing but dwindle.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of decaying grandeur, silently rotting from the inside out. Some say that's what happened to Sabe himself— a rot took hold in his core, spreading and spreading until nothing but rot was left. In the end, he took his own life, which some say was for the best. He was a greedy fool, the wealthiest man for miles, owning half the surrounding countryside before the mining industry took off. Made a fortune selling his family's land to coal companies, putting every ounce of profit into making his towering hotel more luxurious than a Ritz Carlton.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of failed dreams, now screaming vulgar obscenities at our eyes. It is a truly ugly behemoth, domineering our town's skyline with unmerited arrogance. Sabe thought painting the tower purple would give it an air of majesty, like royalties of the past, swaddled in silky lavender robes. His aspiration, after all, was nothing less than to emulate the sacred Tabernacle of Moses, to make his hotel a dwelling place for gods among men. In its current state of disrepair, however, the tower was no more than an eyesore— a visual cacophony of broken glass, peeling sickly-purple paint, and rusted steel inlays.
Adding to the hotel's disgrace, it was cylindrical in form, perched atop the highest peak for miles, jutting into the sky like a middle finger to the gods. Its phallic outline stood in stark contrast to the run-down strip malls lying in its wake.
The fence surrounding the tower was a bit too tall and a bit too wobbly to safely scale, so we circled, looking for an entry point. Every few yards, a DO NOT TRESPASS sign hung, tied to the fence with zip-ties in each corner. Someone had taken the liberty to spray paint a word underneath each sign, now making them all read:
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE.
"Good thing you're coming with me," I joked, pointing at one of the signs.
Annabeth paused to read it for a moment. "Yeah... kinda weird that someone did that. I wonder why?"
I shrugged, continuing around the perimeter.
Eventually, we found a gate in the fence, held closed with chains at waist level. The gate's post careened steeply outward, creating a manageable gap near the top. The gate post was only held in place by the chains, not even slightly anchored to the ground. Without too much of a struggle, we hoisted ourselves up and through the gap.
Once inside the fence, I found myself spellbound by the abandoned hotel. The stars in the night sky reflected across the windows, bending and warping around the curved perimeter. Each glimmer of starlight turned into dizzying fractals, melding together and slipping between the shards of broken glass with each shift of my gaze.
The result was honestly breathtaking.
At night, the eyesoriffic tower was beautiful. Its silhouette dared to embrace the star-studded cosmos, standing with a quiet dignity that defied its daytime mockery.
I felt Annabeth shuffle beside me.
Suddenly, her phone flashlight was on, illuminating a path through overgrown concrete to the tower. At the end of the path was the structure’s entrance— a gaping hole with no attempt to conceal the darkness within.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I yelled, spinning to face her.
"W... What do you mean?" she stuttered.
"Turn that off, you idiot," I explained, lowering my voice. "Someone might see the light and call the cops."
The light flicked off, Annabeth mumbling apologies.
I blinked away the afterimage of weeds eating through the concrete lot, silently cursing myself for being so ridiculously hostile toward her.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You're good, Donovan" she whispered, brushing her hand across my arm.
As we continued to the open doorway, the outside of the tower came into focus. It was far further dilapidated than I had realized— each accent of purple paint, faded and peeling, was bulging out from between the glass and steel like it was trying to escape. I rubbed a fingernail on the paint, revealing a soft, rotting wood beneath.
I entered the tower first, pausing to let my eyes adjust. The darkness of the doorway opened up into an atrium that must have once made for a magnificent entrance. It was shaped like a slice of pie, us standing near the crust, peering inward toward the center. Above was pitch black, not yielding any answers to just how high up this mighty room's ceiling stretched.
The musty scent that filled my nose was surprisingly welcoming— somewhere between the smell of fishing trips and century old bookstores. I took a deep breath, relishing in the soft stench.
I could vaguely make out wires dangling down from the ceiling of the atrium. They were impossibly long, stretching upward into the infinite gloom.
"They look like vines," Annabeth whispered, her voice a soft purr.
The air was thick with falling dust, filtering down from the abyss above, twirling between the wires in satisfyingly slow-motion. The falling dust made it even harder to see in the dark, leaving the walls on either side of the room foggy blobs. I waved my hand, sending fleeting dust spirals through the air.
I remembered seeing photos of the atrium online, taken on some of the earliest digital cameras ever made. Those pictures showed marble countertops, intricate wooden carvings, and lushly carpeted floors.
The room, as it stands today, is a barren husk of Sabe's vision. The carpet, only present in scattered clumps, was impossibly dark, soiled to the point of true black. It clung to the concrete foundation, viciously holding on for dear life in a losing battle.
I bent down to examine a clump of carpet in front of me, amazed by the absence of light reflecting back. It was like staring into a pit of nothing, a vague absence, an outline of something that should be there.
I poked the toe of my boot at it.
FPOOSH.
It exploded, erupting into my face.
I gagged instinctively, tasting the vile substance mix into my lungs. Annabeth slapped my back as I continued gagging and coughing, begging the mucus to tear itself free from my lungs and just fucking get out of my body because it feels like I'm dying oh GOD.
And eventually, it did.
The violent hacking subsided into slight wretching, then was gone.
"Are you okay?" Annabeth tested.
Do you think I'm fucking okay?
"What the fuck was that?" I spewed.
She bent over the clump of carpet. Underneath the blackened top layer that just violently erupted was a pale network of matted spiderwebs.
"Hmm..." she began, "It kind of looks like mycelium."
She met my raised eyebrow with an eye roll.
"You know, like the roots of a fungus or some shit, I don't know. I just saw the shrooms growing in Bryce's closet that one time he showed me his stash. This white stuff looks just like it. So I guess that makes this black stuff like the part of the shroom we eat, or whatever."
"Oh dip," I responded, nodding. "That makes sense. One time I saw a nature show about some plants that shoot their seeds everywhere when something touches them. It's probably just spreading its spores when we touch it."
"Yeah," she breathed, "pretty gnarly."
We shuffled deeper into the gloom, weaving between dangling cables and clumps of fungus. I felt a drop of moisture flick off a cable, sliding onto my arm.
I groaned. "Fuck. That cable was wet."
"Disgusting," she whispered back.
We made our way to the apex of the room, the center of the tower, revealing a rusted set of elevator doors leaning together like drunks at a quinceanera. The doorway to the stairs, however, beckoned to us with the same unobstructed, pitch-black allure that the tower's entrance emanated just minutes before.
In the dark, it's truly amazing how utterly void all open doorways look.
Upon stepping inside the stairwell, the world vanished. The only proof of having working eyes was a faint, vertical glow of light filtering through the door, abruptly fading into all-consuming black.
Every sound in the entire building bored through my soul, bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, echoing on and on for all of eternity. The stairwell, directly in the center of the decrepit hotel, was the focal point of every creaking floorboard, every popping nail, every howling gust of wind. It was as if I was holding up a monstrous conch shell to my ear— a deafening murmur of echoes in disarray, smelting together to form satanic harmonies.
"Whoa," Annabeth mumbled.
Her word cut through the other echoes, impossibly loud against their monotonous hum.
Instantly, the echo of her voice filled the stairwell, rising like the build up of a dubstep song until peaking, impossibly overwhelming for a few brief seconds. The echoes of her voice then faded as quickly as they arrived.
She put a hand to her mouth, the whites of her eyes barely visible in the glow coming from the doorway.
I reached out, placing a hand where her shoulder should be. There was not enough space for us to stand abreast in the stairwell, leaving us in a comically squished proximity. She was breathing rapidly, barely managing to stay silent. I squeezed, and her breathing quickly slowed. I felt her hand creep onto mine, and we stood for a minute, simply listening to the cries of the dying building echo around us.
As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a staircase spiraling up the curved wall. Clearly this was a service stairwell, as it is much too cramped for the likes of Sabe's guests. Only a few steps were visible through the darkness at a time, making the staircase feel even tinier than it already was. Luckily, no fungus grew on the stairs themselves, leaving the metal alone to rust.
Annabeth shuffled onto the first step, producing a small object from her pocket. She handed it to me, then pointed up the stairwell, careful to not send echoes through the cylindrical chamber again.
I brought it close to my eyes for inspection, straining against the lack of light.
A joint...
She wants to go to the roof and smoke.
A smile cracked my lips. Classic Annabeth.
Every couple stairsteps, there would be a doorway. Most of them let in a dim glow, offering a glimpse into what must have once been a custodial closet on each floor.
On floor 9, I tugged at Annabeth's hand. We made eye contact in the faint light coming from the doorway. I motioned through it, pointing to the nearly fungus free floor. I wanted to explore at least a little bit, to see if the closet circled around the stairwell or not.
I poked my head through the doorway, freeing myself from the overwhelming cacophony of echoes in the stairwell.
I verified that the closet did, in fact, curve around the circular staircase like a donut. A few steps in one direction led to a terrifying drop— the elevator shaft. Next to it, a sidewalk sized ledge led to an open door, giving a view of the floor's main hallway. The path looked safe— no fungus, cracks, or otherwise obvious defects— so I proceeded, treading as light as a fox, fumbling for Annabeth's hand behind me.
The main hallway ran between the custodial closet and the guest rooms, creating another donut ring around the central stairwell. Throughout the hallway, patches of fungus grew alarmingly close together, threatening to overtake the concrete.
"That stairwell was insane," Annabeth whispered.
I nodded. "Fuck yeah, I wonder what it was like when the hotel was actually open. Must have been miserable for the staff."
We weaved through the fungus filled hallway, coming to room 901. I glanced at Annabeth, raising my eyebrows. The door was slightly ajar, hanging from its one remaining door hinge. I pushed gently, eliciting a monstrous creak.
The room was empty, extending away to the outside in a familiar pie shape. The mold seemed to grow thinner in the room, leaving most of the exposed concrete safe to cross. At the far side, a floor to ceiling panel of windows looked out over our town.
I gasped, taking in the view. Never before had I seen our town from this high up. My eyes drew to the smokestacks by the river, their blinking lights ominously flickering over downtown. Individual streets ran in parallel lines away from the tower, lit with yellowing streetlights. Between the roads, tiny lights cast from window panes twinkled, blending with one another into a starscape of their own.
"Dude," I said. "Look at this."
No response.
I spun, looking for Annabeth, frantically scanning the room. My eyes had adjusted to the outside light, leaving me sightless.
"Annabeth," I hissed.
A cold tingle went up my spine, pulling at hairs on the back of my neck.
"Annabeth?"
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Silence.
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Silence.
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Silence.
​
I crept back across the floor, now aware of the entire room at once. There was nowhere for her to be hiding. No desks, cans of paint, ladders, nothing. Just an empty room with patchy fungus growing on the cement.
Something must have happened.
I studied each fungal growth in the room as I passed by. Even with the light cast from the windows, the tops remained impossibly dark. Not a single feature was discernible— only an outline was visible.
Halfway to the door, a three foot wide hole led straight to floor 8. I could have sworn it wasn't there before. I peered into the opening, seeing straight through to the room below. From what I could see, it was identically empty.
"Annabeth," I tried again, nearing the door to the hallway.
"BOO!"
I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet. I landed squarely on a patch of fungus.
FPOOSH.
I remembered to hold my breath, close my eyes, and plug my nose.
Annabeth cackled from the threshold of the doorway, standing over me with both hands on her forehead.
"You should have seen the look—" she began, breaking off into another fit of laughter.
"Shut up," I groaned, pushing to my feet. My entire body was covered in squishy fungus gunk. I pointed at the hole behind me, continuing. "You could have killed me."
"Blah, blah, blah," she mocked. "You're fine... you're just being a baby."
Annabeth gave me a playful shove, hands lingering for a moment overdue. Swatting her paws off me, I marched back to the stairwell. I led the rest of the way to floor 13, followed by her snickers.
As I reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the 13th floor, my jaw dropped. It was a scene straight out of a surrealist painting. An enormous pool room lay before us. Glass walls extended up from the tile floors, creating a massive, clear domed perimeter. A swath of stars twinkled brilliantly through the clear ceiling, their light refracting through the glass, casting ethereal patterns onto the room's otherwise bleak surroundings.
The pool itself was a semi-circular cutout covering half the floor space, starting at ground level and deepening in a corkscrew motion. Its ceramic tiles, once probably a bright blue, were now tinged with patches of the same fungal growth we had come across on the lower floors. The growth was sparse here, though, letting the original floor design take prominence.
In the center of the room— on top of the staircase we just stepped out of— stood a circular pillar that extended up to the middle of the glass dome, like a spine holding up the entire tower. A small antenna jutted out from above the pillar atop the dome. Surrounding the antenna was a low fence, perhaps a safety measure for maintenance workers.
Annabeth, having finally contained her laughter, stepped beside me, her face illuminated by the soft starlight filtering in through the dome. She too stood silent, taken aback by the unexpected beauty of this forgotten space.
As we moved around the room, our steps echoed across the vast emptiness. With every patch of fungus we passed, the same eerie darkness hovered, the undulating mold standing stark against the ceramic tiles.
We made our way back to the central pillar. A ladder, carved into the pillar, connected to the glass ceiling with a trapdoor.
"To the roof?" Annabeth sang, rubbing her hands together in a goblin-like motion.
"Ladies first."
As she climbed above me, I couldn't help but crane my neck and drool. She slammed open the trapdoor, and we burst through to the roof.
The fenced-in area was covered with a dark spongy surface, gripping at my knees when I stood up. Wind whipped around us, carrying a chill that cut through my clothes and bit into my skin. With each gust, the antenna above us groaned and swayed, almost as if it were joining in a dance with an unseen partner.
We sat on the squishy rubber surface, comfortably in silence. I met her eyes, smiling dumbly. We passed the joint back and forth until it dwindled down, its ember glow flickering one last time before extinguishing completely. A familiar haze crawled through my thoughts, slowing the passage of time to a languishing crawl.
"Hey..." she started, "I think I've finally found inspiration for my next album."
I scooted closer to her, taking her hand. I knew the topic brought about an unusual timidity in her— a blemish in the badass persona she's so keen on presenting. She won't even talk to her own boyfriend about her music career.
"Yeah?" I floated.
She hesitated for a second, settling into the moment. I felt a tug at my crotch, suddenly all too aware of how pretty she looked in the moonlight. I took in every detail— the way her hair fell across her face, the pattern of her freckles, the soft speckling of stars reflecting across her eyes.
"I think you need to take off your shirt, first, though," she whispered, now inches from my face. "You're filthy."
I glanced down, remembering the fungal gunk that had soiled my clothes when she scared me.
Without warning, her hands slid under my shirt, warm and sure. I helped her yank it off, collapsing into her lips.
***
When we got back to the truck, I was still high enough to see everything in slow motion. Before pulling out of the parking lot, Annabeth and I regurgitated the events of our urban exploration, trying to show our significant others what fun they missed out on. It goes without saying that part of the story was intentionally omitted.
Ellie and Josh were unamused. Their lack of adventure will forever be a mystery to me.
We swung out of the lot, hopping onto the highway headed into town. I swayed between lanes, struggling to keep the double-yellow lines in focus.
"Are you sure you're good to drive?" Ellie asked, gripping the armrest.
"I'm fine," I slurred.
Seconds later, another truck materialized in front of us. I swerved to avoid it, then everything went black.
***
I woke up to a strong hand pulling me out of the window. My truck was upside down, the roof completely caved in.
I groaned. "Aww... fuck...."
The person who pulled me out looked like the kind of guy to chew tobacco and spit wisdom. His fishing cap cast a deep shadow across his eyes in the moon's glow, concealing his gaze. He was an old timer, that's for sure, one of those folk who came during the coal rush and decided to stay when all was said and done. I could see his truck— the same truck I saw moments before the crash— pulled into the shoulder of the highway with its blinkers on.
"Easy now," he reassured, his voice like gravel under a boot. "Anyone else inside?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
I plopped onto the grassy slope embarking off the side of the road. The old man pulled their mangled bodies out, one by one.
The countryside shrank around me. I felt the corners of my vision pulling in, the weed in my system straining the limits of shock I could take before melting down.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of my guilt. "The police will be here soon. Don't you worry."
The police.
I stood up. I knew exactly how the police treated people with my skin color in this town.
I ran.
"Hey now!" the man hollered.
I kept running.
Away from my truck, away from my dead friends, away from the police.
I ran until my breath came in ragged, uncontrollable huffs. I flopped to the ground, laying on the cool concrete, cradling my head with my hands. Blood flowed between my fingertips, pooling onto the pavement.
I laid there until police sirens wailed through the night, rapidly approaching. They stopped at the wreck, leaving me in silence. Moments later, the sirens picked up their mournful song again, heading toward me.
I sat up.
I was back in the lot of Sabe's Tower. Only then did I realize how little distance I really ran from the wreck— a couple hundred yards at most.
Four, five, maybe even six sirens filled the air. They were all coming for me. They knew what I had done.
I bolted from my position on the concrete. I could hide in the tower. No way the cops would look for me in that rotting place. They wouldn't dare.
I squeezed through the gap in the fence, same as before, vaulting past the
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE
signs in a fluid lunge. The sirens behind me screamed into the night, melding together into a continuous doomsday chant.
Red and blue lights filled the lot. I hit the ground right in front of the gaping entrance to the tower, praying that the weeds poking through the concrete would be enough to mask my form. I army crawled, inch by inch, dragging myself across broken bottles and plywood shrapnell, until I was safely in the darkness of the tower.
In.
Out.
I breathed.
In.
Out.
A police cruiser parked in the lot. Its siren drowned out all other wails for a moment before shutting off. A chubby white officer hopped out, surveying the scene. His gaze came to rest on the spot where I had lain. He squatted down, raking a finger through the pool of blood I left behind. He took a few steps toward the tower, squatting down yet again. Another splotch of blood, no doubt.
His voice floated through the plaza, slightly nasal and a little out of breath. "Dispatch, this is officer Chetty, badge number 741. I'm on the scene at 1019 Pleasant Valley Lane, in the lot of Sabe's Tower. I've located a pool of fresh blood that may be linked to our hit-and-run suspect. Possible injury, suspect could be close. Requesting immediate backup and forensics for evidence collection."
Fuck.
I wormed my way further into the tower's belly, sliding between patches of fungus like a mouse in a snake pit, heading for the stairwell. I had to ascend, to find some nook or cranny out of reach of the pursuing officers. The godforsaken tower was one big game of hide and seek, only this time, losing meant far worse than a bruised ego.
Something gurgled in the darkness.
My blood froze. I halted, my heart hammering a tattoo against my ribs. Holding my breath, I strained my senses, eyes peering into the graying murk, searching for the source of the sound.
It came again, a wretched retching, like an animal choking on its own vomit. Hacking, gurgling, bubbling wetness bursting through strained vocal chords, a sound of fading vitality. It was coming from near the door, just outside the meager halo of light slipping through the hole.
A wet line smeared across the back of my neck. A yelp escaped my lips before I realized it was just a cord dangling from the ceiling.
At my yelp, the gurgling paused.
A heavy hush fell over the place, the quietude of the hunted.
I could faintly make out echoes emanating from the stairwell, only a few feet behind me.
The gurgling continued, sucking at the thick air. It began to drag itself forward through the fungus covered floor— a slow, steady, rhythmic drag against the concrete.
FPOOSH.
A geyser of spores bloomed, mingling with swirls of dust in the meager light. The creature, or whatever it was, did not slow its approach. Out of the darkness, a form began to shape— a silhouette clawing its way toward me.
FPOOSH.
I could see this eruption envelop the mass on the floor. One hand appeared, then another. Its fingers scrabbled over the concrete, searching for any purchase to grip. They flexed, heaving the thing even closer.
A mop of curly hair appeared between the hands. A body, face down. It pulled itself closer, into another fungal growth, grinding its face through the rough concrete.
FPOOSH.
A knife protruded from its back. The handle jutted upward, a grim totem amidst the grime and gore. I shuddered, involuntarily taking a step closer to the stairwell.
It looked up at me.
Or rather, Josh looked up at me.
I stared back, mouth agape.
His face was nearly sanded off from the concrete. His nose took the worst of it, ground down to the bone, leaving only two sucking, gurgling holes between his eyes. His cheeks were a mangled mess of blood and rocks, viscous red flowing freely to the tip of his chin before dribbling off. The chunks of meat hanging where lips should have been flapped against his teeth with every jerky motion, tethered to his face by all too little strands of flesh. Beneath them, his teeth showed bright red and white in a perpetual grimacing smile.
"Josh?" I managed to whisper, my voice a frightened squeak.
Josh opened his mouth as if to respond, ripping both cheeks in half. He hacked, gurgling, spitting up blood that came from deep within his torso. He slowly cocked his head to the side, but instead of stopping at a slant, he kept twisting his neck until bones started to crack and his head dangled upside down.
His mangled, upside down head swung limply as he pulled himself to his knees, his neck like jelly. He wasn't wearing the same clothes he was wearing earlier tonight— no, he was wearing clothes from the night Annabeth first cheated on him with me. He was at a Villanova game, supporting his favorite team since birth. Annabeth knew he would be gone for the weekend, so we took our chance. I was still at her place when he came back, wearing his Collin Gillespie jersey and reeking of beer.
Now in front of me, his prized jersey was in tatters, torn to ribbons by the concrete. He groaned, shuffling and reaching for me with bloody fingers.
I bolted into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. I pushed myself faster and faster until the door to floor 9 loomed to my side. I didn't pause for a moment, pushed forward by the gurgling echoes reverberating from below.
My thighs, weak from the frantic climb, begged for a break. I wobbled into the hallway, painfully tip-toeing through the fungus. The door to 901 beckoned ahead, hanging open like it had been awaiting my hasty return.
I stumbled over the threshold when Annabeth's singing filled the room. "Oh, Donovan!"
I froze.
Outlined against the window was a two-headed beast. One face belonged to Annabeth, the other to Ellie. The creature swayed, an obscene dance of bare, fused flesh. It wore no clothes, as if to mock God himself. It had two sets of everything— eight appendages total, like a humanoid arachnid. Annabeth's breasts, now side by side with Ellie's, put Ellie to shame, even now.
Annabeth crooned again, "Oh, Donovan!" each syllable laced with acid and honey. The sound made my skin crawl as it floated through the silent room.
"You always did want more, didn't you Donovan?" Ellie sneered, a harsh grin splitting her face.
Annabeth spat, "More than Ellie could give. More than anyone could give."
The thing dropped to the floor with a thud. All eight limbs moved in unison as it crawled.
"Isn't this what you wanted? Both of us at the same time?" Their voices tumbled over each other, mouths moving in synchrony. Together, their laughter filled the hollow room. "Don't you like the thrill, Donovan? Don't you like playing with fire?"
The thing scurried at me, jumping over fungal growths with powerful leaps. The sudden movement broke my paralyzation, spurring my legs to action. I darted into the closet and through the stairwell door, into the gurgling echoes.
Back down the stairwell I ran, the two headed beast in pursuit. Both girls snarled, hindered by their conjoined size in the narrow passageway. Their struggle echoed through the stairwell, mixing with the gurgling. I fled further down, needing to put distance between that thing and me.
I stopped dead in my tracks between floors 2 and 3.
Josh was there, leaning against the wall with the knife removed from his back, now grasped tightly in his hand. I staggered back up the stairs, instinctively retreating, narrowly avoiding the blade as he lunged at me.
Glancing up, I caught a flash of pale skin bearing down on me, cutting off my escape. My only way out was the door to floor 3. I charged through the closet, leaving the echoes behind me.
Floor 3 was empty— no walls, only fungus and windows. The atrium loomed to my left, a pie shaped hole missing from the floor and ceiling. I backed away from the door, eyeing the dangling cords hanging in the atrium.
Maybe... Just maybe....
Josh stumbled from the stairwell, filling the air with his wet slurping. Annabeth and Ellie followed, scrambling toward me.
I didn't have time to think.
I jumped, grasping at the dangling wires, praying they would hold my weight.
Time stuttered, hanging suspended like an icicle on a winter's morning. The world spun in a dizzying blur as I twisted, fingers stretching for a grip. Panic clawed its icy fingers up my spine, but it was the surprise that struck me most. The simple disbelief that this was happening.
A wire found its way into my hand, snapping without slowing my fall.
The wind whooshed past, ripping the breath from my lungs. Above me, the third floor retreated, its grimy concrete replaced by a view of the atrium's ceiling, wires swinging back and forth from my desperate escape.
Then came the sensation of falling. It's a feeling that strikes a primal chord, an orchestra of fear and adrenaline that means the end of a life. My stomach lurched, free-falling alongside me, while the rest of my body seemed to hover in a state of disbelief.
The impact came as both a shock and an inevitability. There was a moment of sheer, undiluted pain, a soundless scream reverberating through my very bones. It felt like being shattered from the inside out, an explosion of agony that started from my back and radiated outwards. An iron-hot spike of pain shot through me, and then, a chilling void as everything below my waist slipped into a terrifying numbness.
The echo of my body's collision rang in my ears as the world spun into a disorienting whirl of blurs, shadows, and pain. The cold concrete beneath me felt real, solid, a chilling contrast to the sudden loss of sensation in my legs.
In the throbbing silence that followed, I understood. I had fallen. I was broken. I lay sprawled on the atrium floor, gasping, the world tilting dangerously in my vision.
Annabeth and Ellie emerged from the staircase, scrambling across the atrium floor. Red and blue police lights filtered through the tower’s windows, making shadows dance between the monster's eight limbs. Josh wasn't far behind, still clutching onto the bloody knife, head rolling upside down between his shoulders.
"Police, we're coming in!" a familiar nasally voice shouted.
The moment officers stepped foot in the tower, the monsters vanished in a spray of spores.
​
X
submitted by tryna_write to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 17:46 Dentistryon116 Dentistry On 116

Dentistry On 116 in Carmel, Indiana is a reputable dental practice that is dedicated to delivering top-quality oral healthcare services to patients of all ages. With a team of highly skilled and compassionate dental professionals, we are committed to creating a comfortable and inviting environment for every individual who visits our practice.
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At Dentistry on 116, we firmly believe in the power of preventive dentistry. We place great emphasis on regular check-ups, cleanings, and patient education to help you maintain a healthy smile for a lifetime. Equipped with cutting-edge dental technology and advanced treatment techniques, our state-of-the-art facility ensures the highest level of care and precision.
Our team of experienced dentists and hygienists stay up to date with the latest advancements in the field through continuous education and training. This allows us to offer a comprehensive range of services, including dental implants, orthodontics, teeth whitening, porcelain veneers, and more. We take pride in our ability to transform smiles and restore dental health with innovative and effective treatments.
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submitted by Dentistryon116 to u/Dentistryon116 [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:49 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares about my ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to Anxiety [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:48 Proletlariet Thirteenth Doctor

Respect the Doctor

🎵

"Bit of adrenaline, dash of outrage, and a hint of panic knitted my brain back together. I know exactly who I am. I'm the Doctor. Sorting out fair play across the universe. Now please. Get off this planet while you still have a choice."

So you've come to see my respect thread? mmmm I love respect threads. In fact, I invented them right after 4 slice toasters. So... where was I? Oh, that's right. Me. Doctor, the Doctor. I was born on this little planet on the Constellation of Kasterborous... or was I? Things get a bit complicated there... where I came from or who I am. I've been lots of people, some of them I don't even remember. The person reading this might be the Doctor too (?)... Anyway, back on point. The person who I am now is an easy-going travelehigh-speed engineebiscuit-lover. Me and my fam explore the universe in muh good old TARDIS, righting wrongs and chilling like there's no tomorrow (which is a possibility wink-wink). I'm happy to be your bezzie mate if you play nicely, but if not --- well, you'll get an idea if you keep reading. (scronch)

Source Key

Hover over a feat to view its source.
  • Doctor Who (2005) series # episode # = S#E#
  • Twice Upon A Time = TUAT
  • Resolution = R
  • Revolution of the Daleks = RotD
  • Eve of the Daleks = EotD
  • Legend of the Sea Devils = LotSD
  • The Power of the Doctor = PotD

Intelligence

Technological Aptitude
Understanding Technology
Using/Operating Technology
Building Technology
Modifying Technology
Disabling Technology
Repairing Technology
Computing
Observation
Deduction
Persuasion, Trickery & Manipulation
Resourcefulness
Medical
Planning & Strategy
Miscellaneous Skills

Mental Abilities

Mental Resistance & Willpower
Mind Reading & Communication
Mind Manipulation
Sensing & Feeling
Other

Physical Attributes

Strength
Speed & Agility
Durability
Senses
Regeneration
Time Lords can survive fatal injuries through the process of regeneration whereupon every cell in their body is rewritten, radically transforming their appearance and personality. This regeneration produced some interesting changes...
Miscellaneous Time Lord Biology

Equipment

Get the full rundown of the TARDIS and Sonic Screwdriver in the comments

Psychic Paper
The psychic paper is a blank piece of paper that telepathically projects the Doctor's thoughts into the eyes of whom she presents it to.
Futuristic Technology
Mundane Items

Miscellaneous

"She was the universe."

submitted by Proletlariet to u/Proletlariet [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:41 Proletlariet Bill & Ted Saved

"Be excellent to each other... and party on dudes!"

He is Bill S. Preston, Esq.! And he is Ted "Theodore" Logan! And together, they are Wyld Stallyns!
To everyone else in late-80s/early-90s San Dimas, California, Wyld Stallyns may look like the impossible dream of two slackers with no skill in anything else. But in truth, the music of Wyld Stallyns is so bodacious, so non-heinous, so excellent that it brings about an era of prosperity, both across the earth and to the stars beyond, and technological advancement so advanced that even time can be accessed as freely as a 10-digit phone number from the nearest payphone. Because of this, agents from the future utopia have sent back a time-travelling phone booth as well as information about the future to make sure that Bill and Ted are able to continue having most excellent adventures and fulfill the destiny of Wyld Stallyns.

Key

Movies:
EA = Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
BJ = Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey
FtM - Bill & Ted Face the Music
Shows:
CSxEy = Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventures (DiC Animated Series); Season X Episode Y
LAEx = Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventures (Fox Live Action Series); Episode X
Comics:
M#X = Bill & Ted's Excellent Comic Book (Marvel Comics) Issue #X
BVx#y = Boom! Studios Comics; Volume X, Issue #Y
Vol. 1 = Bill & Ted's Triumphant Return
Vol. 2 = Bill & Ted Go To Hell
Vol. 3 = Bill & Ted Save the Universe
BV1#xS = Boom! Studios Comics; Side Story
DH#X = Dark Horse Comics (Face the Music Compliant) Issue #X
Games:
AL = Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (Atari Lynx)
NES = Bill & Ted's Excellent Video Game Adventure (NES)
WS = Wyld Stallyns (Mobile Game)
Live Show:
EHAyy = Bill & Ted's Excellent Halloween Adventure; 19YY/20YY

Bill and Ted

Strength
Speed/Agility
Durability
Skill
Intelligence
Yes, really.
Rockitude
Skill
Power
Ghost Bill and Ted
Other

Bill

Strength
Speed/Agility
Durability
Skill
Other

Ted

Strength
Speed/Agility
Durability
Skill
Other

Good Robot Bill and Ted

Robots created by the most brilliant mind in the universe, Station, to combat the powerful Evil Robot Bill and Ted. BJ
Strength
Durability
They Run On Car Batteries
Other

Mecha Bill & Ted

Mobile Suit Bill & Giganto-Ted

The Time Booth

Time Travel
The Squint System
An upgraded directory that allows the booth to travel to fictional settings, including books, CDs, movies, and games. CS2E2
Durability
Landing Strength
Other
"Catch ya later Bill and Ted!"
submitted by Proletlariet to u/Proletlariet [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:32 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares about my ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to OffMyChestPH [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:32 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares of my ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to offmychest [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:31 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares of my ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:30 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares about my ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to depression [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 16:21 SlightlyFedUp Nightmares about ex

So Id like to start by saying I never want to get back with my ex but I'm not able to get rid of her from my mind. I left her because of alot of reasons that built up over the years and I finally could not take it.
Unfortunately I've noticed that whenever I'm in an anxiety driven situation or any incident happens, that night I tend to get nightmares about my ex in some form or the other. I call them nightmares instead of dreams because most of the time I'm anxious in the dream as well.
Tonight I woke up at 4am again where I had a nightmare. My ex who was blocked on every platform somehow got through and was calling me. I didn't pick up but got anxious. For some reason I called back (irl I've resisted the callback alot as I've got alot to say but I wanted to cut the connection completely) and luckily she didn't pick up. But after a minute she kept calling back again and again and when I picked up it was a video call where she was smiling and telling me nasty things and was for some reason giving me updates on how she moved on. The next minute she would switch to pleading to return and again go back to gloating how she doesn't need me.
Now I don't want to pay my own back and say I'm wonderful and so amazing that she would plead for me to come back but in reality she did alot for months when we broke up.
I even met her the day I broke up to give her closure but she zoned out alot that day and infact sexual harrased me alot. Few days later was valentine's day and I know alot of people will think it's really sad I broke up before that but I did for a reason. I couldn't fake it anymore. I was not able to smile, laugh and pretend anymore and I thought this would give her false hope for another month for me to again feel like things aren't working. A week later was her birthday and yes I was extremely guilty but again as I said, i couldn't fake it. Valentine's day and then throwing a celebration for her birthday (I did this every year and Is generally keep it special but this year I could not) seemed to just endorse a false Reality for a longer time. Things were miserable. I empathized and sympathize alot (not cause I'm better or anything but because of guilt) so i still picked her calls up after we broke up and didn't block her. But then things got nasty. In order to make herself feel better, I got really horrible messages, blame for things I never did, constant pleading and she even landed below my house multiple times and cried in the street which I had to handle in front of my entire community (my sister practices buddhism and it was a big day that for her, she had invited alot of people to our house to chant together and wanted my family and I to be there to support but due to this incident I was really rattled because my ex was down crying while everyone was in the house, my ex knew about this meeting because it was planned months in advance). As the messages got nasty I blocked her. First on WhatsApp, then on Facebook, then on Instagram (all 4 accounts of hers), then on Google meet, teams, i don't even know where all, as she kept finding me and messaging. Even on email. Her emails still come through in my spam and it's made me very anxious as I still land up checking the spam folder everyday in fear and clear it. It's become a bad habit. Randomly I'll get calls from odd numbers and it'll turn out to be her friends phone and she will talk and I cut the call. I even got video calls on Google meet from her 3rd and 4th email which I had to block.
It may sound brutal but I really tried to give closure to her on the day we broke up, I spent 5 hrs at house explaining everything and instead she zoned out that day and kept get distracted as if she doesn't care and kept sexual harrasing me. Pulling my shirt and unbuckling my pants which unfortunately as a guy I can't push her away i can only tell her several times to stop.
Now I'll be completely honest but I did not tell her every single thing as to why I broke up with her because the anxiety was so much. I was trying to break up since a while and finally did it. I'm extremely socially anxious and everything makes me very nervous when I'm unfamiliar. It's only my second relationship and first time I was serious, my first relationship only lasted 3 months and that was my therapist telling me to explore because I need to be out there. The reason I never said everything is because 1. I didn't want to hurt her ofcourse, it's nasty to hear someone you loved talk about things that can be looked at as flaws but in reality they were affecting me and it was really unhealthy for the both of us 2. I didn't know myself, I knew things are not right but it's only after the break up I've truly understood them 3. I was nervous as she kept saying she wants to suicide from the balcony and threatened me alot of I left that night 4. I genuinely am bad at confrontations, I cannot do it, the pressure makes me run away mostly or just let it be as is.
Over the course of the relationship I had become very dependent on her as socially she's the only person I met. Every weekend or weekday for 2.5 years. I suffered from depression and anxiety alot growing up and often found it hard to make friends. In college however things changed and for those years I was really open. As I did my master's in another country I became reserved again. Returning back home I lost touch with everyone and became a workaholic. For 6 years I worked say and night, had only 2 friends and stayed in my room mostly depressed. Work took me around the globe, I lived in LA for a year and then once covid hit I returned home where during the lockdown I decided " let's try to open up a bit more and meet someone, it's time ". I was very open from the get go that I'm horrible at socializing, I've got only few friends whom I hardly meet, I can be very quiet sometimes and enjoy my own company as well sometimes and I'm a terrible planner for "fun weekends". I know my flaws and I've accepted it. My ex on the other hand was very emotionally dependent on me. She would call me at a stop of a hat and panick and there were days where I've left calls in between to help her through her anxiety. She was younger than me by 3 years and was just going through the phases of career while I was going into a senior position and had seen these phases. I guided her alot on it and so family problems, work problems, random people bothering her, stress anything she would talk to me and I was ever ready to talk. No complaints as that's what partners do. However it became without any boundaries, she would often expect me to drop everything and tend to her. Days where I've got major deliveries to make, she would throw tantrums and in one instance I was supervising the biggest project of my life and she threw lots of tantrums as we worked weekends and 24 hrs round the clock. It was the biggest movie of the country at the time and the first big hit post covid. (i work in the film industry).
I mentioned my flaws earlier as those became her focus of complaint. My insecurities were her complaints about me and she even once broke up with me over "lack of friends and not being a man enough because I can't plan things for the weekend", no doubt she taught me how to have a good time, I had no idea which restaurant to book, what cuisine to pick, which area to book this weekend which is exciting, how to do more fun activities other than dinners and going to cafes etc and for the first I learnt what's a staycation cause of her. I guess she felt the burden was on her but then again anything I'd book she would cancel it anyways. I booked several restaurants that were good but she'd cancel it anyways and then ehen someone else would recommend the restaurant she'd agree to go. It's almost like I had no say in anything anyways so I put my hands up. My social anxiety 5 years was at an all time high and I couldn't even order food as I'd feel the waiter would judge me (which they often did) , I attended lots of therapy for these weird quirks of mine which to an average person seemed like no biggie but it genuinely made me nervous. I got over and thought by the time I met her I'd made good progress, I was able to pick up the phone and book things sometimes, I could order food, I was fine with video calls (I'm very conscious of how I look as I was bullied alot in school), I tried to participate in everything and I gave in all my efforts instead into understanding her and learning who she is first and putting my fears aside. However I feel she didn't do the same. For a long time i believed she understood exactly whats wrong with me and empathized and put it aside but i realised as the taunting went on and the gas lighting that she looked at them as flaws. She didn't bother to understand them or see them but instead gave me notes like a teacher and complained alot on how I'm not social. Infact on her birthday she kept messaging me she's alone so I felt guilty and called and instead she complained about all my insecurities and I had to take it quietly. She even said "I'll make sure the next person treats me like woman and is a real man" which really hurt me alot. I cried that night because of guilt and shame. Guilt because I wanted it work and it didn't and so I had to pull the plug and Shame because for first time in a long time I felt ashamed for who I am.
Today the anxiety driven situation was a social situation. I've come to the US for a family friends wedding and although I know people it's really making me nervous. Indian weddings last the entire week and this wedding has 250 people who have eyes on me constantly as I know few of them or my family knows them. Today was the first day and as usual I was lost, my sister on the other hand is extremely social and I used to depend on her. However a year ago she got drunk in a wedding again while we were out of town and told me "You're social life depends on me you loser" and then proceeded to abuse me alot for no reason while I was helping her as she puked. This wedding it makes me nervous and alone, I cling to my parents and the younger crowd stares at me alot pulling me to dance and I'm very awkward. Idk how to join in or have fun I'm very conscious and Idk any of the songs as I generally don't enjoy Hindi music (not cause of snobbishness but cause I don't get it, I'm more into exploring mellow music and Bollywood sounds all the same to me, also working in Hollywood and Bollywood I'm fed up of movies so I don't watch half of them).
I'm sorry for the long post, it's just that I'm awake and wondering why I got these nightmares, how to get rid of them, how to survive the next few days and what am I doing with my life. There were alot of pretty girls here today and all I could think of was "They are all too much fun for me, I'll bore them to death"
submitted by SlightlyFedUp to Truthoffmychest [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 15:59 EurekaStockade 63--- 911 Hoax --By the Numbers

When they use numerology to stage their events then you know its FAKE
TWIN TOWERS DESTROYED BY CONTROLLED DEMOLITION= 223
​
Globalist needed to stage another Pearl Harbour event as a pretext for Middle East Wars
Pearl Harbour itself was a staged event
JAPANESE SURPRISE ATTACK ON PEARL HARBOUR= 223
​
Construction on the World Trade Centre began on 6 August 1968= 6/8/'68
Hiroshima anniv
33 years before it was destroyed
DESTRUCTION= 68
PLANE CRASHES= 68
The US adopted 911 as their Emergency Call number the same year 1968
​
On the morning of the 911 attacks Bush was reading the book The Pet Goat to Children
BUSH READS THE PET GOAT TO CHILDREN= 322
Bush entered the classroom 9:03 am
Flight 175 hit the WTC tower at 9:03 am
Flight 11 crashed into 93rd floor of the North Tower
Flight 93 crashed into Somerset County Pennsylvania on the 39th parallel
Crashed at 10.03 am= 22:03
223--Skull & Bones signature
PLANES CRASH--TWIN TOWERS= 93
​
The World Trade Centre was first bombed in 1993
The bombing was blamed on the Blind Sheik
BLIND SHEIK= 93
WORLD TRADE CENTRE NORTH BOMBING= 322
​
Osama Bin Laden's 'father' died-- coincidentally--in a plane crash on Sep 3 1967
Sep 3= 9/3
119 days remaining in the year
(Ronald Reagan died on Sep 3= 9/3 at age 93)
​
12 Oct 2000---The bombing of the USS Cole was staged to make Bin Laden a household name
Exactly 11 months before the 911 attacks
Bombed at 11:18 am= 11/9
USS COLE BOMBED= 216
The bomb supposedly created a 18 x 12 m gash on the ship's side
18 x 12= 216
216= 6x6x6= 666
​
Osama/Obama Hoax
44th USA PRESIDENT= 223
​
99 months 9 days after USS Cole bombed--
President Obama's Inauguration
exactly 119 weeks later--
the Osama Bin Laden character was killed off
ALQAEDA= 23
FAKE= 23
SPOOK= 23
CIA= 23
LYING= 23
​
Obama's Fake Birth Certificate was an Insider Joke
All high- profile Globalist Stooges have fake birth dates
Thats how they identify one another
Obama was supposedly born 4 August
216th Day of the Year
216= 6x6x6= 666
149 days left in the year
SKULL AND BONES= 149
ANTI CHRIST= 149
​
BIRTH CERTIFICATE is a code word for 911
BIRTH CERTIFICATE= 156
911 = 156th prime number
​
The North Tower was the one that was hit first on 911
NORTH TOWER= 156
​
911= 9+1+1=11
Sept 11
254th day of the year
2+4+5=11
111 days left in the year
The first plane to hit the World Trade Centre was Flight 11
AMERICAN AIRLINES= AA= 11
Flight 11 had 92 people on board---9+2=11
11 crew members
New York is the 11th state added to the Union
New York City has 11 letters
The Pentagon has 11 letters
Pentagon located 38 N 77W
PENTAGON= 38
Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon on the 77th meridian
Boeing 757-223
submitted by EurekaStockade to conspiracy [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 15:54 Storitimer I need advice

Warning ⚠️ nsfw, violence, [email protected] assault
Background information and to let people know I'm safe.
I 21f live in the United States. I live with my bf 27m. We have been dating for a year and seven months. From our first date I knew his was the one. He's just the right mixture of funny, serious and sweet. He's is an amazing man who I hope to build a future with. He parents and family are amazing people whom I love immensely. They are great people. I am not sure where I'd be without him. He's my everything.
I have been putting a strain on our relationship because I need help. We have talked about this plenty and we want to make sure we communicate with each other and we do.
The thing I need advice about is also the reason there is the strain in our relationship. Here's my story.
Pt 1:
I 21f live in the United States. Growing up I lived with my mom and several boyfriends which resulted in my two younger siblings 13m and 18 m. Growing up I didn't know who my father was. My mom has dated two men at the time of contraception. So it's either one or the other. So one of my brothers is a full brother and the other is a half brother.
My mother was never married to either of her partners. But then one day we got a call from my aunt saying she was coming up to see us from Tennessee with her husband and my cousins which were way younger than me at the time (I was 13) and a friend. When she arrived she introduced her friend. Let's call him Rick. He was a man in his late 20s early 30s. He was nice and my mom really liked him. I remember how I would tease her saying she liked him.. After they all left back to Tennessee my Mom started to video chat with him. I was so excited about my mom finding another boyfriend and I was even more excited to find out he was going to come live with us.
You wouldn't believe how quick it was for my excitment to end. One day my mom, Rick and I were watch teenagers mutant ninja turtles (the live action ones) we had watched the first one but then my mom went to sleep. My brothers were younger so they were asleep as well. I sat there with Rick and after my mom fell asleep Rick pulled me into his lap. That was the first time he touched me. He told me we wanted to show him something. To stay quiet and Still. I froze up and told him to stop. And from then for the next 7 years he didnt stop. Not even when my best friend killed themselves in 2018.
Every chance he got he would touch me, take photos and do more vile horrible things to me. I can't bare to go into the details on here no matter how much I wish to tell someone. I can't do that to someone. It's horrendous... I didn't tell anyone until my senior year. I told my friend after breaking down on her after he had beat the shit out of my that day for telling him no. She was the only person up to that point.
It was like a weight was lifted. It felt so nice for it to be off my chest. I explained to her that's why she was never allowed over with him. My friend was a few years younger than me. I couldn't take that chance.
I was so depressed back then. The year my friend killed themselves I gained nearly double my body weight. I gave up on everything I loved. Suicide for me wasn't option. I was so against it, my friends suicide hurt me and everyone around him so much. I could never do it. But with that in mind it felt like I was trapped. I couldn't die but I couldn't leave. I was stuck.
My grades were horrible. I went from near straight A's to c, d and f's. I couldnt pay attention in school due to the constant abuse at night. I signed up for as many after school programs as I could and started bouncing friends houses each weekend. My mom had no idea what was going on. She had no idea why I hated him so much. She had no idea that each time he came into my room to "tickle" me He was actually doing other things to me. I would scream and cry for mom to make him leave me alone. Each time it caused a fight because she would ask me what he was doing to make me scream like that and all I could say was he was "tickling" me. Or would stop touching me. Because I was terrified He had threatened me several times to hurt me or my brothers or my mom if I told.
One day. I had enough. It was about 2 months after my friend's funeral that I snapped and I told myself I wouldn't let him touch me again. (I was 16) when he tried I slapped him hard...but he slapped me back harder. Making me bite my cheek. He shoved me down into my bed and threatened to put me in the hospital. The back of my legs bruised from hitting the rail of the bed. He left me alone for the rest of that day. Once my mom got home I ran outside to tell her about his threat but I couldn't bring myself to tell her why he made that threat.
She confronted him and of course he denied it. He told her that I was just spaced out sitting in my bed. (I have dissociative spells. ) That are very similar to focal seizures. I have had them since I was 14. They are stress induced and he straight up told my mom that I was hallucinating. They took me to a neurologist which determined that I was having a dissociative spells and then told my mom and him that having hallucinations were not a part of that. Plus I had bruises on the backs of my legs from where they hit the bed as proof of it happening.
Fast forward a few years of abuse. It wasn't just sexually, it was verbally and physically. Not to mention the small things he did when I told him no. Ex. Putting dead mice on my people, stealing my stuff, convincing my mom not to let me go out.
After graduating highschool, that summer I spent working as much as I could and bouncing houses or camping out. I didn't want to go home anymore. I waited for summer to end so I could leave off to college.
I didn't want to go to college but I felt I had no other choice to get out so I went. The first month of college I did very well. I was starting to be happy again. I tried to move on with my life. I got into clubs and made a few friends. I thought I was doing better. The nightmares seemed to slow down and I could finally sleep.
Around SeptembeOctober I started looking at online dating and I found him. My current bf 27m. We had started seeing each other. Going on dates but not actually dating. We didn't make it official for a few weeks. Which in that time I made a male friend who was working at my college as kitchen staff. He was funny and easy to talk to. It was nice to have another friend. We spent the entire day together I mean from breakast on campus to midnight in my dorm. But then it was time for bed. And I walked him downstairs and expected to see him again then next day. As I get up to my floor I get a phone call from him. He says he needs a ride to a gas station because his van is out of gas. I tell him I can't drive at night. It stressed me out and I have stress induced spells. He didn't know what to do so I invited him back up to my dorm. I have to beds in my dorm. Told him he could sleep in the other one.
When I woke up he was on top of me. Touching me and trying to pull my pants off. I told him no and to get out and escorted him out of my dorm. I blocked his number and avoided him around campus. After awhile he was arrested for peeing all over a students car on campus and I found out I wasn't the only one who he had done this to. He has restraining orders against him.
After that night I tried to kill myself for the first and last time. I failed horribly and then got even more depressed that I had tried to do that. I ignored all calls and texts and didn't leave the dorm for a week and then after stopped going to classes. I stopped trying to do anything. I slept all day and didn't even talk to friends or family for weeks.
At Thanksgiving that year I planned with my aunt to move in with her and drop out of college. I tried to talk to my mom but she wouldn't have it. So for the first time in my life I decided for myself and went completely against my mom's wishes and dropped out after the semester ended.
Shortly after Thanksgiving I go over to my aunt's house again. My uncle and her have been arguing for awhile when everything calms down and the approach me. They bring me into their room and sit me down. My aunt is on the near verge of tears as she tells me why they were fighting.
Rick, my stepdad lived with my aunt first before having introduced him to my mom. She informed me they had an affair. But after awhile she wanted to stop and Rick threatened to tell her husband. After a long while she broke it off and told him that it's his death bed if he tells (my uncle is a veteran) so It stopped. Until one day after my aunt moved back up here. My aunt was helping my other uncle (her brother) and my grandma mowing some lots (they did landscaping) they ran out of weed eater string so my uncle and my granny went to get some while Rick and my aunt went to the creek to cool off. (This was after he married my mom) He tried to touch her. But she told him no and immediately got away and went up to her car and sat in it with the doors locked.
(She did tell my mom that rick was not boyfriend or husband material. And also her affair started off in a time where she had major marriage problems. And she needed a friend to lean on. Then after awhile it becomes more. My uncle does not blame her for what she did. )
She told me this and I couldn't help but cry. When they asked me why I was crying I immediately blurted out he had been touching me. And then I immediately tried to take it back. I was terrified that I had told someone in my family. They said it was okay and just let me cry as they hugged me. They said we should tell granny and also ask my cousin if he had done anything to her. I reluctantly said yes. My cousin (14f) said he had not done anything to her.
Telling my granny was a mistake. She told everyone else. Everyone knew besides my mom. She told me to not tell. Because it was all in the past. I should just let it go and never tell my mom. I didn't tell my mom for awhile. (December)
Fast forward until June. My car need the brake pads replaced and the only person that can do it is Rick. (The only mechanic in the family willing to do it) so I go to drop my car off (my cousin is with me. (we work at the same place and she rode along.) He wouldnt do things if we weren't alone. I didn't realize until after I put my cousin in potential danger.
After he replaced my break pads. He told me to get in the car so he could show my why my break light was on. He wouldn't give me my keys unless I did. I thought I was safe because it was maybe a minute ride around the street and back. As soon as I got in he pulled the car out and drove down the street. After a moment he stopped the car and reached over trying to touch me. I slapped his hand away and told him to stop. He almost growled. I told him we better get back before my cousin noticed. He growled a bit more and started the car back up and parked in the driveway. He threw my cars at me and I told my cousin to get in quickly. We left as fast as we could to go to work.
At work (worked at a water park. It was ran by my family) I cried in the car for a moment before trying to collect myself. I got out of my car and got ready for work. As soon as I walked in my mom knew something was wrong. But I wouldn't tell her. I went over to my grandmother and told her what happened and she said it was my fault and to get over it. I told her that it wasn't in the past now and to protect myself I would be telling her after work. My grandma was angry with me but I didn't care anymore.
submitted by Storitimer to abusiverelationships [link] [comments]

2023.06.03 15:38 obeliskposture Short story about bad times & bad jobs

I've shared fiction here before and it didn't go altogether too poorly, so I'm going to press my luck and do it again. This was written about a year ago, and I'm tired of trying to peddle it to lit magazines. Might as well share it here, know that it met a few eyeballs, and have done with it.
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
“Yep.”
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
“I’m terrible.”
“Why?”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
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