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HIMRFAM

2021.12.13 21:59 LoloMagic111 HIMRFAM

This is a community-driven subreddit for discussing anything and everything related to Daniel Lord’s YouTube Channel, Hiding in My Room.
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2017.08.13 00:35 Redaspe Subreddit for the Youtuber Hiding In My Room

This is a community-driven subreddit for discussing anything and everything related to Daniel Lord's YouTube channel, Hiding in My Room.
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2013.04.10 02:22 FucksGuysWithAccents Amateur Room Porn

“Real people, real rooms”. Original content only, photographed and submitted by the actual people living in the rooms.
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2023.05.31 03:08 Empty_Advice7902 The Dark Rise of One Piece: Anime's Loneliest Creator - The Eiichiro Oda Story!

The Dark Rise of One Piece: Anime's Loneliest Creator - The Eiichiro Oda Story!
Is One Piece the greatest Story ever told? A full Essay / Video Documentary on Eiichiro Oda and One Piece. To me One Piece is a masterpiece but it took a lot of sacrifices for Oda to become the best selling mangaka of all time. I just hope I did him justice. This is the Rise and Controversies of Anime and Manga's most dedicated Creator.
YouTube Documentary: https://youtu.be/obwz7ewVwnY
Upvote Goal is 100 (I hope you enjoy or learn something new)
At the time this is bring made is being made Eiichiro Oda has amassed an astonishing 230,000,000 Net Worth and is the creator of the highest selling manga of all time. One Piece has sold so many copies, that not only is Oda in the Guinness book of world records for the most copies ever sold of any manga or comic but it also puts his name in the top 10 highest selling fiction authors in human history. Engraving the name Eiichiro Oda next to William Shakespeare and JK Rowling. Oda is without a doubt one of the greatest and most creative story tellers of all time.
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But this level us success and talent doesn’t come without sacrifices. Odas road to success is paved with A plethora of health issues both physical and mental, arrest and loneliness. One Piece has brought joy to millions of people and its success is something that Oda has dreamed of since he was 4 years old watching anime and Disney cartoons. Will act as a celebration of oda’s well earned achievements but also the over looked acknowledgment of the sacrfises, a-lot of Artist have to suffer through for our enjoyment, and dark untold truth of the manga industry. A Mangaka who escaped the industry even referred to it as “voluntary enslavement”. with an more infamous example being when kishmoto Creator Naruto and a rival of oda, finally finished his popular long running series, he reached out to oda to brag that he can now finally take a walk with his kid on a sunny day which would send the one piece author into a spiral but also motivated him to keep working so he could take walks with his family too one day.
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Oda was born January 1st, 1975 in Kumamoto City Japan. From an early age he was obsessed with all things animated and cinema. Everything from Anime, Disney cartoons and Hollywood movies. By the age of 4 Oda had already began reading manga and immediately after he found out creating manga was a career! He couldn’t believe such a cool job existed and declared he would become a Mangaka to quote “avoid getting a real job” The manga that contributed the most to this epiphany was a series called “The Monster Kid” by fukiko a fujio. A story about a kid and his companions traveling through realms battling various Monsters. Oda claims that one of the panels from this specific manga was the first that made him want to draw and he would go on to draw endless copies of his favorite panel trying to get his drawings to look as good as Fujio’s. He simultaneously had fallen in love with an anime called “Vicky The Viking”
Monster Kid
A show that told the adventures of Vicky, a young Viking who would use his Witty and imaginative mind to help his friends out of tight situations.

Vicky the Viking
Vicky would spark odas life long fascinations with pirates and plant the seed for a idea that would eventually grow into one piece. you can see Vickies influenced sprinkled through out oda’s work. When odas dad found out about his sons newfound ambitions he decided to teach him to paint as he himself was a talented oil painter. oda credited his dad for his creative side and still shows off his dads paintings as the proud son he is. Oda became quite the proficient painter as well. One of his original paintings he did for a school project still hangs in his elementary school to this day
When oda got a little older and his manga taste matured He gravitated toward the Weekly shonen Jump. A anthogly of mostly action-based manga that targets an older demographic.
Oda also had started junior high around this time but admitted that it was rough for him and that he often didn’t enjoy it. The only time he would really feel happy was when he knew their was a new jump issue coming out the next day.
He loved Everything from legendary Gag series Kochikame, to the action comedy Kinnikuman.
A popular series in the Anthology called “Capatin Tsubasa” would even inspire oda to join his school soccer team just like the characters in the show. As you can tell he was a very impressionable and remains so to this day many of odas characters and themes are based of various pop culture icons like Jim Carrey, Eminem, the terminator and reservoir dogs to name a few you might know but also various Japanese acting and historical legends.
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oda never dropped his love for soccer with his favorite team being Brazil. Oda revealed in a q and a that in the real world luffy would be from Brazil so I can’t help but to think this is influenced by “Capatin Tsubasa” oda would find his biggest influences though when he stubbled apon the series Dragon Ball. He was obsessed Toriyma’s art style and reread it more than any other manga. He loved his character designs and practicing them is why he said he got so good at drawing legendary buff dudes. But the most impactful thing Dragon Ball ever did for oda was show him how impactful manga could be.
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When dragon ball was first gaining popularity oda remembers going to school and just seeing how his peers would react to the weekly releases. One day he would see his school get thrown into chaos by a single chapter.
“When Krillin died in Dragon Ball, the whole school was thrown into turmoil. I remember someone kept running and shouting in the school, "Krillin died!!" with Jump in his hand."
Seeing the influence a great story could have would completely reshaped the way oda looked at manga and reenforce his desires to master the craft himself.
This feeling would last with oda and the 2nd year of jr high he would start developing his talent and began drawing sketches for a pirate based manga. Over the next several years oda would continue draw everyday in his free time even at the cost of his sleep and friends. this would be foreshadowing for how obsessive he can be when he puts his mind to something. At the age of 17 he would quit soccer in an attempt to take his mangaka ambitions more seriously. He had learned about a very prestigious manga completion from a company called shueisha. It was called the tezuka award and it was given to the best manga submitted by aspiring creators.
During the same time Oda had taken a liking to an Western American Film called Young Guns, this would go on to inspire him to work 4 months on his first full-length Manga titled Wanted! it was an action gag comedy set in a western themed world.
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Oda was very proud of this creation and was excited to submit it, but he was also concerned of his parents and teachers disapproving of his decisions to focus all his efforts onto something not school related. to fix this problem would submit his work under the pseudonym Tsuki Himizu Kikondo.
Being the unknown prodigy he was he would win 2nd Place and take home a 500,000 Yen cash prize. Winning this award at such a young age would send shock waves through the manga industry. many professionals within the business started keeping their eyes on him. In early 1993, Oda would go on to get several interviews and his Manga would get published in Shueisha's Mezase Mangaka! Around this time he would drop his pseudonym and start going by his real name. Showing that he was growing a lot more confident in his work. His first professional interview would even be published in Oda’s Hometown’s most prominent newspaper. Odas life was changing fast. It was getting harder and harder for even his haters to doubt his talent. Later that year he graduated high school and entered Kyushu Tokai University under the architecture program. although he never used his architectural talents in the actual field,
I can’t help but to think in played a massive part in his unique city and island designs in one piece. During university oda would continue submitting more of his work to Shueisha. Not knowing his previous win already qualified him for a spot for a monthly off shoot of the weekly Shonen Jump.This spot is is where oda would release his next manga. “God's Gift for the Future”
Gods Gift
This manga followed a pickpocket named bran that wanted to change his way of life but couldn’t stop his bad habits. through a series of events he winds up with a magic death note book gifted from god that can not alive anyone by writing the exact date and event in the notebook. look im just gonna say it. Gods gift for the future came out in October 1993 and Death note came out a decade later in 2003. Im not saying Ohba copied teenage odas work but there are alot of similarities and I found some threads that already been disscussing the topic.
If you read all of odas work in release order, you can see how each one gets progressively better and more complex. And he defiantly has two things he was good at from the begginning. Character development and world building. Part this is due to oda admitted just loving the characters he creates and he even said cries while drawing emotional or sad scenes they have to go through.
But being the near physcoeopathically ambitious machine he was. even at a young age He wasn’t satisfied with only being in a Monthly release magazine so the following year in 1994 he decided to enter a contest named Hop-Step Awards with a Manga named Ikki Yako, Oda won first place with Ikki Yako giving him his first undisputed success as a Mangaka.
Ikki Yako
With the back back awards and victories, oda was finally believing he had an actual chance at his dream coming to fruition, so the same year in 1994 he would drop out of university to pursue he career as a professional Mangaka. Dropping out of college is a huge deal in Japan. Even if you become a success some people will look down on you as school is seen as a right of passage to many Japanese citizens. Not as a option as it is in some other countries. Japans unique out look on hard work educationally and professionally will contribute to the dark concepts we will explore in the latter part of the video. And if you remember oda specifically didnt like school and often struggled to find enjoyment while being there. With some impressive accolades under his belt and a new found freedom oda would move to Tokyo under the charge of his editor Karou Kushima this was his officially start as as a true Mangaka. Oda had gotten a job at shonen Jump as an assistant as many inspiring mangakas do. He made practically no money but it was a necessary stepping stone all mangaka have to take if they want shot of publishing there own work one day. Some work as assistants for years or even decades with never getting that chance and often break under the extreme exceptions pushed onto them by the industry.
Odas first assistant Job was for shinobu kaitani’s midoriyama police gang. It was only for the last few chapters of the series and would last just a month. But Oda claims it was extremely busy month for him and he gained an immense amount of experience about the production of a professional manga.
After his manga finished Kaitani would leave Shonen Jump, Oda was sent to another Mangaka assisting creator Masaya Tokuhiro through the final years of their Manga Jungle King Tar-Chan. Tokuhiro was also the creator of the more famous Kappaman.
Oda would work for Tokuhiro for a very long time. Tokuhiro was infamous for being very resistant with allowing others to help with the important parts of his work. This was hard for oda because the free time he got after his 12-14 hour shifts he would spend drawing cool ideas for his own stories and ideas he thought might work for tokukiros but his boss would never even entertain one idea, but oda would still learn alot during this time period. specifically improving his skills of background and crowd art. During this time oda would create and submit serval of his own stories to his editor kushima. and pretty much all of them would be immediately dismissed. This would hurt but he would try to not take the harsh criticism to heart. But this would all change when Oda would create and release his next manga Monsters!
After throughly rereading it and then going back to all of his old works he began to see many of his inadequacies. This motivated oda to work even harder to fix his mistakes. He started thinking maybe his editor was right telling him he wasn’t ready yet. Oda was now sleeping only 5 hours night and began skipping meals because they took up to much time that he could be using to improve his craft.
When Kappaman ended in Mid-1996 his new boss would also move on from shusisha and oda entered his final assistant tenure under the esteemed Nobuhiro Watsuki. Working on the best selling Manga Rurouni Kenshin or Samauri X.
This would be huge for oda! Watsuki was one of the most popular mangaka not just in shonen jump but in all of Japan! He also was known to have a way more laid back style then odas previous editors. Watsuki allowed assistants to be involved in his work, speak their mind and would even review their ideas seriously. that doesn’t mean he would improve them but he felt being involved and getting hands experience was the best way to learn not just busy work for hours on in.
Oda would thrive in this environment! and one of his ideas would actually pass all the hurtles and he even was credited in the Rurouni Kenshin Manga for coming up with the Character Honjō Kamatari. The great scythe. The was huge for oda and added alot of creditably to his suggestions moving forward. Oda would never forget the faith watuski sensei had in him and unfortunately this would come with some grave consciences later on.
Oda was enjoying his time in watsuki studio but he remained troubled by the fact his ideas for Manga drafts continuously got rejected.
Oda decided since all his new ideas wasn’t cutting he would revamp his original idea for an anime. In a last resort style effort oda began work on a pirate themed manga. He decided to call it Romance Dawn. Not feeling hopeful oda would submit it to his editor. But to odas surprise Mishima was very impressed by it and would approve for it to go into further development immediately. It would debut in a shonen jump summer special and received much praise from the readers. During the production of romance dawn oda would fall under the supervision of a new editor takanori Asada who would also believe in romance dawn. He would arrange for oda to fill the gap in the weekly shonen jump that was coming up. This was an incredibly rare and unique opportunity. Oda accepted and immediately created a 2nd version of romance dawn! Within 2 weeks it was approved by Asada as well. But a weird thing was happening. The readers Loved the unique Pirate themed story and odas handlers believed in it and saw the potential greatness in oda’s work but the higher ups where very skeptical and doubtful of Oda’s concepts and refused it entirely!
Romance Dawn
They didn’t wanna try anything new. They wanted more of what worked. Basically dragon ball 2.0s but oda specially set out to make the exact opposite, this was because of 2 of odas earlier influences. Dragon ball, He loved the fights and designs but wished it was more story driven and a much more random influence was the wizard of oz. Oda loved the adventure aspect of it and implemented it into many of his works but he hated the ending of the classic movie. He thought the “The real treasure was the friends we made along the way” troup was stupid. That fans deserve build up and pay off. Oda basically was inventing the slow burn of mangas. That pull you in through world building not just flashy fights. Lucky for Oda asada wasn’t having any of his supervisors nonsense and would wage war on them proclaiming that oda has something great on his hands and he would continue this campaign for months.
and in May 1997, One Piece had finally been approved for publishing in Weekly Shonen Jump. If you love one piece make Sure you show resect for asada because it wasn’t for him we might have never been blessed which such a great story. Remember this was odas last ditch effort and who knows what would happen if it had failed.
Soon after, Oda resigned from being Watsuki Assistant on good terms, and became a full-fledged professional Mangaka himself at the age of 22. His adventure was about to reach hights and pitfalls that he could have never imagined.
And if you wanna follow me own my own adventure to be the pirate king of YouTube. This video was suppose to be saved for my 5000 subscribers special but I was so excited to drop it I couldn’t wait!
it would be cool if you could get this reddit thread to 200 upvotes
One Piece:
This is it Oda’s obsessive nature and hard work has payed off and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. He would double down his effort once more and from this point forward things would start moving incredible quickly.
Oda would take everything’s he learned and created over the years and start immediately drafting the first 8 chapters of One Piece. Asada would lend him a hand and help him refine his ideas and offer some advice he thought could give One Piece a higher chance of success. He gave oda the advice of spicing up the first couple chapters. He thought oda had a great concept but that it wasn’t interesting enough and needed more stakes. Something too hook people and leave them wanting more. This lead to the idea of the Shanks incident in the first chapter. I think this was a great decision and set the tone for the rest of the story.
On July 1997 Weekly Shonen Jump #34 had premiered the first chapter of One Piece titled Romance Dawn giving homage to his Romance Dawn Manga that started it all. When they finished they was pretty sure they had something great on their hands but they was so nervous in wouldn’t do well. They couldn’t shake their butterflies and when the 1st Volume released Oda and his editor would hide in a bookstore and watch the customers and when they seen a little boy buying the one piece volume they would shout with pure joy! This is the cutest one piece fact and know and definitely one of my favorites because it shows how much one piece really means to him. His passion would blend onto the pages and pay off. By the end of the 1st year one piece would sell 300,000 copies. Making it a hit.
But this is again nothing compared to what would come. only one year later this number would grow to 6 million copies sold with no sign of slowing down. By 1999 one piece had reached over 17,000,000 prints and would receive a full length anime adaption that would be an instant smash across Japan. By 2001 oda was only 26 years old and the world was at his finger tips. He was a best selling mangaka and was getting all the interviews and festival bookings he could handle. But the most life altering appearance would happen at Jump festa 2002.
Why watching the performances he would see 22 year old Chiaki Inaba a model, idol, actress, Campaign girl and Race Queen. A artistic genius in her own right. During her show she would perform in a Nami swan cosplay. Showing her love for her favorite anime character that happen to be created by Oda who was in the audience. Her beauty and talent left oda smitten. It was like a romance anime scene. He had no choice but to introduce him self later the same day. They would hit it off and her personality had him hooked. Over the next 2 years they would begin seeing each other, squeezing in dates between her performance and oda busy work schedule. In 2004 they would get married opting to have a private wedding with only their closes friends attending.
Around 2004 one piece and shonen jump was more popular then ever. Manga and anime was spreading world wide. but there was an unprecedented surge in anime’s popularity in the west. The catalyst for this weeb take over would be thanks to 3 shonen Anime. One Piece, Naruto and Bleach. That would be deemed the Big 3. A titled bestowed on the 3 most popular anime of the 2000s. 3 series that completely carried shonen jump in this time period. Every anime fan in the world had one of these 3 in their top spot. later this era would be called the “Golden Age” of shonen Jump. The gap in sales of these 3 vs other series was mind blowing. And to this day the consistency of their popularity would never be repeated.
All 3 of these mangaka where living their dreams but anyone with their level of ambition wants to be the best not just top 3. The 2 creators with most smoke for each other would be One piece’s Oda and Bleach’s Kubo.
They 2 manga titans have had a 20 year beef that have left their fans constantly comparing the 2. The origins of this entanglement actually started because of our previously mention manga award that oda won for romance dawn. Kubo had entered the same competion and felt his win was a sure in and that it would be the launch to his own professional Mangaka adventure! But after bleach was out voted by romance dawn pushing his dreams back years. Bleach wouldn’t be released in jump til 2001! Kubo would holds oda personally responsible. in a 2017 interview when asked how he felt about his rival and he would respond saying “ I hate Oda” and revealed the 2 had a hairy run in in the 1990s.
A few years later oda would have a chance to respond in his own interview during a bleach exibxit for its 20th anniversary. He was asked about Kubo and said “ years ago kubo publicly announced he hates me? Do you want to know if I hold a grudge?” “Yes I do” he went on to say he didn’t knew in kubo meant it in a perticaly rude way or in a competitive way. He said kubo has always had a competitive spirt and was a hard worker but that he does have some audacity, to to say that in public. Oda was letting everyone know he is still always down for the smoke. He would draw Kubo’s character ichigo in the one piece art style and submit it to the exhibition.
Oda Draws Ichigo
I love both anime but their lives sounding like real life anime rivals makes their series even better. It shows how much they both love and belive in their series.
Check here down
Oda and Naruto creator kishimoto also consider their self rivals but in a very different way. in 2015 oda admitted that Naruto is more popular than one piece world wide. He apricates it but it makes him jealous.
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In 2016 kishimoto said he wanted to surpass one piece in manga sales but sadly was never able to before Naruto ended.
Since then one piece popularity in the rest of the world has exploded so the final results aren’t in yet. But either way
The 2 have been the dominate 2 in the world for 2 decades constantly exchanging spots.
They’re respect for each other is evident as shown Through out both series easters are hidden shouting out the others manga.

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But the most wholesome but scary example happened in 2013. Oda had become notorious for his machine like work ethic. He was only sleeping 3 hours a night and often would sleep at his work desk so he could wake up and be able to get back to work faster. This would cause his health to disintegrate and he would be hospaitalized. Knowing oda doesn’t like to take days off kishimoto would show up to his hospital room to check on his friend and would be shocked to see oda working on a up and coming one piece chapter. Kishimoto understood this level of work ethic better than anyone else could as arguably the other most successful mangaka of all time. Instead of asking him to stop he pulled up a chair and helped oda with his work on which woukld relived to be the legendary Dressrossa arc. A personal favorite arc of mine as you can see my avatar is designs after the arcs antagonist. They wanted this arc to be special as to not let his fans down because of his sickness.

As of 2023 One Piece has sold more than 500 million copies. selling more copies than batman and harry potter. Oda is the best selling mangaka of all time and 10th highest selling fiction author in human history. The Anime adaptation of his manga is a smash hit and is growing more popular ever day. Olympians have stuck one piece posses before wining metals. Hollywood celebs have declared their love for one piece like averal lagive who eventual would send oda 2 songs for one of his movies, Jamie lee Curtis who mention robin as her favorite characters on several q and as, marvel director taika waititi rocked a luffy sweater on several occasions. One Piece film’s latest film release Earned over 15 billion yen making in the 6th highest grossing movie in Japanese history. The 4 year old that wanted to be a great manga would be so proud of oda but what has oda sacrificed for this level of success. We touched it own it a little in the kishimoto segment but to really understand or believe the truth that im about to tell you have to understand a terrifying concept in Japan called karoshi.
Karoshi as phenom in Japan that translate to “over work death” in Japan the work culture is alot more extreme then most people outside of Asia can even comprehend. Japan has a 0 excuse policy in many companies not all but many. In these environment you are expected to finish all the work you are giving no matter how long it takes you. Even if you do finish your work you are not permeated to leave until anyone who is your senior is finished and you are expected to go help then instead of going home to see your family.
In 2012 a documentary film maker by the name of allegra Pacheco visited Japan when she heard about the concept and was shocked to see how common this was. She would follow salavery men from their jobs and would discover dozens of them would pass out on the streets or on bus rides from complete exhaustion unable to even make it home or even move. these extreme hours leads to Japan having a high percent of work related deaths from stress heart attacks and sadly self inflicted.
As of 2022, 23 percent of Japanese workers logged more than 80 hours of over time each month. Because this 1 and 5 Japanese workers are at risk of passing away from Karoshi.
The Japanese government never even acknowledged this problem. That was until a 24 year old who had logged 105 hours of over time, wrote on social media that she was physically and emotionally shattered and leaped off a tall building to her end. Unfortunately this isn’t uncommon. Bcc said that it is the single highest C.O.D of men aged 20-44 in the country. there is even an infamous unalive your self forest in Japan that is the go to spot to do so. This forest gained world wide acknowledge when controversial youtuber Logan Paul went there for a day of vlogging and filmed a victim of karaoshi while his friends laughed.
Understand that this a different culture don’t judge them to harshly. Im not saying this work culture is okay but its a very complicated subject. There is a theory that this was Japan’s way of restoring its economy after world war 2. with a your company is your family and you should give it all to them mindset.
I dont think these traits of these phenom are a exactly comparable to oda for one reason. Oda does thing willingly. no one is forcing him to do this with his level of wealth and influence he could easy retire or reallocate the more time consuming work but instead he opts to take on the brunt of the load. This doesn’t make his fans any less concerned.
Based on odas own words and interviews with his editors Oda works 21 hours of a day. The few hours he sleeps is often not even concurrent but instead broken up into 30 minute intervals through his workday whenever he gets a chance. That way he doesn’t have to relocate and can get back to work faster. When he does sleep the 3 straight hours he aims for 2am-to 5am. That way he is still the first back at the office. Other mangaka in the industry refere to oda a machine. As even though he is producing a weekly manga his art is on pare with months release manga. as where manga like Vinland saga have entire months to work on releases oda has to come out with a chapter and episode every single week and it still competes with the season series in quality. He does all this with working with the smallest team possible so he can fill more attached to his work. This goes so far that when he has to re tell passed events. He re draws them instead of reusing old art work to save time like most artist.
His editors reportedly thinks and talks about one piece 24/7 even when he isn’t working. When his editor Naoki Kawashima joined odas team he said oda told him to “die for One Piece” he went on to insure him. If you destroy your health do to your work ethic. I will forever take care of your family financially.
Dont think of this as oda being a bad boss. Just a acknowledge of series they take what they are creating. I watched and read dozen of interviews in peroration for this video and I couldn’t find 1 of his employee that had anything negative to say about him. Everyone who has worked for oda said it it so fun and welcoming environment. That when you see how hard he works it makes you want to work hard to and do your part to contribute to the greatness that is one piece. Oda doesn’t even want fame he just wants to create a great series. In all his interviews he hinds his face or request to have it covered in post edits.
Japan loves oda. He can’t walk down the street without be swarmed by fans. In his interview grown man giggle with glee everytime he speaks. Which makes me happy they respect him as much as I do. That being said his unhealthy life leaves them very worried and oda knows his fans are concerned. even after 20 years he work schedule has eased up.
In a 2021 tv interview oda opened up about he doesn’t have time to bathe, shave or even eat. He has got so lost in work that his asstaince have to come and ask him to please eat something. He does just forget sometime but other times he doesn’t eat on purpose.
in 2012 oda said “The only way I can think of new ideas is to think about it alot without sleeping and eating. Because humans can only come up with truly new ideas when they reach they’re limit. So every time I am done with my manuscript I am completey exhausted.”
This statement is beautiful but sad to me.
Especially when you factor that oda has got moderate diabetes and goutes as a result of his work schedule and being in his work chair for so many hours at a time.
In the same interview he said he always bathes before seeing his family to wash off his work mode. but that he rarely gets a chance to see them. As we mentioned, after Naruto ended kishimoto bragged to oda he can now talk a walk with his son when ever he wanted as a flex to oda about finally finishing his series as a fellow obsessive he knew the kinda pressure oda lives under and the sacfrices he is making. Them have a personal relationship may have been a way of kishmoto pleading for oda to take a break, as they have even been to each others houses. Oda only gets to visit his home once a week as he sleeps in his studio the other 6 days. So his only sees his daughters and wife 4 times a month. One reason is he finds this necessary to keep his weekly deadlines. The 2nd but sadder reason is oda fears if he spends more time with them than that he will want to stop making one piece because he will miss his family to much… one of the only times oda wandered if he should quit one piece was on one of his weekly visits his daughter said “dad you are to busy to spend time with me”
Oda is currently Bringing in 30 million dollars a year from one piece royalties alone. He is currently the richest mangaka to ever live. So he is dedication to his craft is completly by choice as he has long since passed the threadsold of retirement wealth. Oda keeps going to make all of his fans and people who believe in him proud. In a marizine interview in 2017 oda said “My fans are worried about my short sleep but sleep is just a waste of time I prefer collecting information for manga. I want to become a robot that doesn’t need sleep. Even when I go on trips with my family I dont sleep much”
This level of obligation for his fans is endearing but it was his loyalty to his formal sensei that would cause the most damaging controversy in oda’s entire career.
In November of 2017 Tokyo Metropolitan Police lead a a raid on a residents house they had been investigating on suspicion of the sell of CP. During the analysis of the purps computer they found the evidence they needed but also a link that lead them Shockingly to the one and only Nobuhiro Watsuki. Yes the creator of rurouni kenshin and Sensei to our own Eichhiro Oda. Shortly after watsuki house and studio was raided. The investigators suspicions where unfortunately confirmed and over a 100 dvd was confiscated as evidence. With some of the victims of the tapes being as young as 10 years old. He was arrested and during the interrogation he immediately confessed and went into a unnecessary amount of detail to the investigators
“I like girls in the higher grades of elementary school to the second grade of junior High” After he was charged shuisha put his series on indefinite hiatus. This sent shock ways through Japan as up to this point he was one of best selling and most respected mangakas ever and lots of new rising talent came from his tutor-edge. His reputation was tarnished but he controversially received the lightest sentence legally possible. A fine of only 1800 $ and never served a single day in jail. People where understandably out raged when it became public.
Which is how oda stumbled into the cross hairs of this PR disaster.
It all started with a tweet from shonen jump stating oda and watauski will be doing a joint interview on April 24th 2020.
During the q and a Oda was asked what it was like working for watsuki and oda said “ I worked for him just under 4 months. Which Maybe the happiest moment in my entire life."
The fanbase was instantly split down the middle. With one side declaring that even remebering fondly about someone who did what watsuki was charged was blasphemy and that it was in away supporting him. This side even share a short lived “Cancel Oda” hash tag. The other side felt like since oda has never done anything of the sort him self and didn’t know anything about it, he shouldn’t be forced to rewrite his history that lead him to where he is now. Even Watuski wife didn’t know what he was up to. Oda has only have good things said about him from his employees and from what i can tell is a great kind person who has donated lots of money to charities and his hometown. even though i am bias as a one piece super fan. I think the truth as always lies somewhere in the middle. Oda is without a doubt though one of the greatest and most successful writers in human history but let me know what you think of Oda Sensei in the comments.
Video: https://youtu.be/obwz7ewVwnY
📷ReplyForward
submitted by Empty_Advice7902 to OnePiece [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 02:59 ThrowRA-familyleft Did I make the right decision?

My son spent a lot of his childhood in the care of his maternal grandmother. She was unable to continue to care for him due to some medical complications. I recently received custody of my son and we told both my son and his maternal grandmother we would bring him to visit regularly (several states away). My son does have some behavioral issues because his grandmother was not able to enforce proper boundaries and he had a rather difficult childhood before his grandma began taking care of him.
Recently, my son has been helping my wife volunteer for community cat TNR and mentioned a community cat he treated like a pet and missed. We told him we would take a trip to see his grandmother and bring the cat back with us to receive veterinary care. Before leaving for this trip, we called my sons grandma and told her about what is happening in his life, what rules/boundaries we have set, what he has been wanting to talk about/interests, etc.
When we arrived, it seems all of the progress we made went out the window. I am trying my best to give the highlights of his behavior because I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my son but feel these are big things that cannot be ignored. We tried to give them alone time to reconnect but my sons grandmother did not want to care for him alone for an extended period of time (more than 2 hours- which I completely understand. We spoke to her about it before the trip so she wouldn’t have to be the one saying “no” to something she was uncomfortable with like staying the night- we would be the “bad guy”.) He began cursing at me and my wife. He would have outbursts if he didn’t get his way- he knocked over a living room display and cursed at his grandmother because she accidentally over baked a dessert she was making for him- even though we had told him we ordered grocery delivery services with new ingredients.
After they had spent some time alone one day we went back to our hotel and his grandmother called and said her medical marijuana edibles were gone. We asked my son about it and he denied it. We asked him to empty out his travel bag for us and he did. We asked to check the bag and he agreed, in one of the zipper pockets we found the missing edibles. We had a brief discussion of how marijuana use before a certain age can be harmful, how it is illegal to have it, why he stole it etc. We are not anti-marijuana at all and did not want convey that message but more so the health risks and the consequences of stealing.
Later on, his grandmother mentioned wanting to take him to the local pool. My wife was sitting beside my son on the couch and said to ask me. (The reason being is our therapist said no more pool for a bit after an incident where he shoved my younger child who cannot swim into the pool and did not show remorse- my wife was watching and no one was harmed, but my other child is too scared to go near the pool and cries in the bath now etc.) My son elbowed my wife in the side with enough force it left a bruise bigger than my hand. He said it wasn’t fair because she knew what I would say.
At that point, I told my son to gather his belongings because we would be heading home since he could not treat those around him with respect. My wife gathered the cat and we left.
On our way back, we stopped at a gas station. We all went inside but when I came back out to begin pumping gas I realized my son was back in the car, had the window open and was trying to pull the cat out of the carrier by its tail making it scream. When I told him to stop he became angry. I removed the cat, secured him back in his carrier and put it in the front seat. I asked him why he was doing that and he said it was because my wife was over exaggerating what he did and caused him to lose time with his grandma and not go to the pool.
My wife and I feel absolutely terrible he lost time with his grandmother. His grandmother called and expressed her disappoint as well and said we were being too harsh because he has issues from his childhood and needs our unconditional love. I do love him unconditionally, but I do not feel I can excuse these behaviors. Even my parents and extended family said I shouldn’t have cut the visit short and maybe a familiar face (grandmother) could help him get back on the right track and that his life changed quickly there are bound to be outbursts.
My son has been completely withdrawn, not eating, not engaging with us at all. It is clear he is dealing with depression. We have been going to several therapists (family, my son in individual, taking trauma informed parenting classes/using a parenting coach, etc). We have followed their advice and they continue to say it will take time to see progress. We got some differing opinions from these professionals such as we did the right thing while others said old places tend to put us in old habits and he is trying to get back to the previous connection he had with his grandmother.
My wife has been incredibly upset that he had to leave “because of her” and is clearly distraught that he seems so upset. She has mentioned she regrets saying anything about what he did. What would you all have done in this situation? Should we have stayed the full length of the trip to continue being with his grandmother?
submitted by ThrowRA-familyleft to Parenting [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 02:37 Dramatic-Trash3816 My brother is a NUISANCE and I fear for my life

It’s as the title states, my brother (M45) is a fucking monster and I am scared for my safety. I talked to my therapist about this and he recommended that I talk with a close friend/authorities, but I’m too scared to even do that. I made this throwaway so I will share it here. Hopefully this will work to give me an “outlet” or whatever. This is going to be long, stay with me.
My brother is two years older than me and I am a “surprise baby.” I.E. I was a mistake, and my parents made it clear that I was to be treated as a sort of nuisance that way. But my brother is the real leech, and I know it.
My brother has always been malicious. One of my earliest memories with him was of him pushing me off my scooter and landing on my knee on the head of a sprinkler. I had to get nine stitches and I was adamant that my brother was the cause, but oh no, there little Timmy was harmless, their little boy never did anything wrong. But I knew.
As kids he would constantly break things in the house and blame it on me. Glasses from the cupboards, fancy china plates, vases, anything he could reach. But even when he broke something that was too high for me to reach and it was clearly him, they still believed him. “Danny knocked it over, I swear it!” “Mama Danny just threw it on the floor!” And they believed him. Every. Single. Time.
My mother was the most blind-sided. I understand now and understood then that my father knew that it wasn’t me, but he wouldn’t dare contest my mother and the word of her “perfect little Tim.” I sort of resented my father for that, even more so than my mother. But I continued to kiss up to them because I felt that they didn’t love me and that I was the problem.
I brought home straight A’s every trimester and my reward was not getting my ass beat and being served dinner. My brother would bring home C’s and my parents would congratulate him for “trying his best.” Trying his best? No. I was in 4 of his 7 classes and he slept all the time, skipped, barely turned in assignments, etc. But just as he had done with my parents, he put on a sob story to the teachers about neglect or whatever the fuck excuse he had and a pair of puppy eyes and he would gain their sympathy. So, every teacher looked the other way and passed him. I obviously complained, but my parents said that it was “easy” for me to get A’s so you shouldn’t expect/need praise. I worked my ass off.
That was just the surface. After middle school, my brother went ballistic. He began hanging out with a rotten batch upperclassman who he was convinced were his friends. I saw through it though. He was just their punching bag and wallet, and of course, they got him hooked on all kinds of shit just so they could sell it to him and get his sweet cash. Where did he get the cash, you may ask? He stole it from my parents wallets/purses and fucking blamed it on me. Every. Time. I have scars on my back from the whoopings.
My parents found marijuana all around the house, in his room, the kitchen, the living room, and even their bedroom, God knows why. He was constantly stoned and all he ever received was a stern word. Of course, stern words don’t do jackshit, so he continued, and got even worse. He started doing crack, meth, heroin, I don’t know drugs, but he did everything. One night he got so stoned or drunk or some combination of both that he assaulted the owner of a liquor store at the corner of our street and ran back home. The kicker? He hid in my room for some reason and shit literally everywhere. His hands were covered in shit when the cops were pulling him away. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen or heard up to that point.
What did my parents do? What punishment did he receive? None. However, my father did send him to rehab, which actually surprised me and made me think that things were gonna get better. Of course my mother was livid about the rehab decision and picked him up during the sixth week of his twelve week course. Even though he only completed half the course, I held out hope. But of course, he relapsed in record time and this time, my parents did nothing to stop it. I guess they just accepted his fate or got tired or whatever. That’s when I began to feel bad for my parents. What did it feel like to have such a horrible son? I couldn’t imagine.
He had to redo that year of high school because he had too many absences and the additional six weeks missing because of the rehab. I think that flipped a switch in him and he just stopped caring about his life all together. He befriended this freshman girl, she was 14 and he was 19 at the time. They were never officially dating or whatever, but I had suspicions. There was one time when I came home and saw them both laying on the couch, stoned out of their minds. They were both topless, just sitting there watching an episode of fucking Garfield or some shit and they didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I was obviously disgusted and I personally told the girls parents about the situation. They weren’t convinced because they were a devoted Christian family, but I knew. I knew.
Then, I found the condom. My parents made me clean his room because they were lazy fucks and my brother was out probably getting stoned somewhere, so I went in. I took his trash can out to the bin, and as I was dumping it, I saw a condom at the bottom. That was already horrendous, assuming that he used it with that young girl, but that wasn’t the part that got me. It was flipped inside out, meaning that whatever was inside at the time of use was now outside (nice one, dumbass) and whatever was outside was now inside. And inside the condom was blood.
I nearly threw up and I ran inside, but I didn’t tell my parents. Instead, I made the mistake of confronting my brother. Upon questioning, he beat the shit out of me and sent me to the hospital. I was there for a week and my family visited every day. When my parents left the room or weren’t looking, my brother would shoot me this evil looking grin or let out a faint chuckle.
I guess he must’ve exacted some kind of pleasure from the violence, because he committed two more criminal acts of violence that year. He stole my fathers keys and kidnapped that same young girl and took her to our cabin in the Cascades for three days. Eventually they were found by police at the cabin and he confessed to raping and cutting up the girls belly with a knife. Absolutely fucking despicable. After that he went to prison and got out earlier this year.
He came to my door a few months after he was released, held a gun out toward me, and just said “watch out.” He turned away and put his finger to his lips, shushing me, and then left with some Hispanic man in a pickup truck. I haven’t told a soul about the incident but I fear for my safety. I’m the person who found that condom, got him in trouble with authorities multiple times, etc. I know that if he wants to, he will kill me.
submitted by Dramatic-Trash3816 to offmychest [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 02:28 mirageofadream Does the blatant self-hatred and white worship disturb and distract anyone else?

When reading I always have a moment of “wow this is extremely sad and pathetic” during the transmigration moments.
If it was the minority of stories that do this, it probably wouldn’t bother me. However, the fact that the female protag is almost always someone who was originally a POC or had dark coloring and gets killed violently as if that version of themself is irrelevant. The fact that they are so ecstatic to get reborn into a dream, fantasy life in which they’re blonde/silver hair blue/green eyed Caucasian living in a western world. And they are so utterly thrilled and can’t shut up about how beautiful they are now. Not to mention these are marketed as self-insert fantasy.
It’s just… this is such a major elephant in the room. It’s so cringe. The white worship is just so palpable and shameless. I find it impossible to fully ignore tbh. The knowledge of it is always in the back of my mind.
Edit: “Because it’s Europe” isn’t a good enough excuse guys. Most Europeans have brown eyes and dark hair same as East Asians. There’s clearly a reason that everyone’s dodging for why the choice is almost always blonde/blue or red/green for self insert isekai stories marketed to East Asian women.
submitted by mirageofadream to OtomeIsekai [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 01:40 KarmaforJames She wasn’t even invited

Both me and my best friend Sarah have borderline personality disorder. She is currently secretly dating James, her best friends brother Joe. For whatever reason the two bothers Joe and James do not get along. In fact I would go as far as to say Joe wants nothing to do with his brother. Sarah and Joe just graduated today and she mentioned that Joe had a grad party and it was a really big pool party. My friend Sarah is not very popular. In fact I was the only one who celebrated her graduation with her out of all her friends. Joe considers Sarah to be one of his best friends (or so Sarah says to me ALL THE TIME) but for some reason Joe did not invite Sarah to his party. I immediately got upset that she would be excluded. But she defended Joe saying that it would be uncomfortable for Joe if the two brothers and her were to be at the party at the same time. Joe does not approve of them dating and is still unaware at this time. My counter argument was that if they are fine with being in the same room together then what’s the difference if a mutual friend is there as well among all the many party guests? The two boys are very calm non confrontational . She then kept insisting “you just don’t get it” and then would move on to another reasoning “well the family is really serious and blunt”. I’m like you could just go as a mutual friend. She literally keeps insisting that it’s completely fine that she basically celebrated her graduation alone and her boyfriend and best friend didn’t even invite her to the grad party they had. She literally keeps saying she’s moving in with the boyfriend in august. Like I think it’s just so messed up they didn’t even ask her and she’s just making excuses for them. What do you guys think? Am I missing something? I really don’t get how this is okay to her.
submitted by KarmaforJames to Advice [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 00:51 CornerCornea Stranger in the House

"Come inside, the kids are upstairs." Molly was in a rush, I knew this much from the phone call we had earlier. She had never used me before but heard about me through word of mouth. Which meant that my little side hustle was starting to gain traction.
I am a babysitter for a good neighborhood. There's cars parked outside, lawns are manicured, and the occasional termite company is out doing rounds. I don't know why but I always feel as if there's a termite guy nearby, it's a pretty decent area. Which is a far cry from where I live, on the other side of the tracks, literally. There are train tracks that run through our town and it acts as a divide. But they didn't need to know that. They only needed to see the straightened hair, well spoken, fake braces wearing girl in glasses sporting a skirt that wasn't too short where the neighbors would talk.
Usually I sat down with new clients, have them introduce me to their kids (trust me it helps) in order to make a clear cut line with them that I am in their parent's employ and I am not there to be their bestfriend and will definitely tell on them if they act up or break something. That's not to say I won't play silly games with them, feed them, laugh, tell bed time stories, and age appropriate jokes. But I am nobody's rug.
That's what I usually do, but there wasn't such luxury this time. Molly called me on the phone and she sounded desperate for me to come out. I had concert tickets and told her that they were non-refundable and she suggested that if I could make it in 30 minutes then she'd pay me twice the amount for the tickets and 1.5x my usual rate. I got there in 29 minutes. It would have been sooner but I needed to air myself out if you know what I mean.
Anyways, Molly barely had time to look at my face, let alone get any of my credentials as she was rushing out. Working mom it looked like. Business, by the looks of the pencil skirt and the bag that doubled as a folder. It always amazes me how much trust some people put in others to watch their kids. What if I was a serial killer? Or a deranged lunatic? What if I killed the babysitter on my way here and now I'm in a house, alone, with all her children.
I'm not. But I mean, what if, right?
She didn't seem to think about any of these things, leaving me to mumble goodbyes as she pulled out of the driveway, barely audible as the turbos wound up and she shouted something out the window to the likes of, "It's all on the iPad".
Yeah, no more yellow lined paper stuck with the realtor's magnet on the fridge anymore. It's all digital now.
I closed the door and figured that I better check up on the kids before I did a rundown. God this house was beautiful. I climbed the stairs two at a time and rounded the hall. To be fair, calling it a hall was so basic of me. It was more like a wing. West wing madam. The wing could have fit my living room. I click my heels when I heard a snort come from behind me. I came to face a shaggy dog that was well groomed. The collar was black with an underline of blue. Tiffany's undoubtedly. "Hey," I reached a hand and scratched the mop of top. "Let's go find the kids," I tell the dog as if it could understand me.
There were a series of rooms, most of them closed, but it didn't take me a second guess which one was occupied. The second door on the left, I could hear a kid shouting obscenities about someone being trash. I knocked on that door first.
"Come in," he shouted still loud but slightly less angry.
I opened the door and saw a stereotypical gamer's room. Posters, action figures, a rocking gaming chair on the floor in front of a huge flat screen, and a boy about 9 or 10. He had on his headphones and was sipping a Dr. Pepper.
"Don't they know trash day is on Thursdays?"
He cocked his head and laughed, "If you're looking for my mom I think she's downstairs."
"I'm actually looking for you." And let me tell you something. The audacity of this younger generation. The way he looked at me. Almost made me feel as bad as how I felt when he shrugged his shoulders after he had a good look. "Excuse me," I walk in front of him and blocked the screen. "I'm your new babysitter."
He shrugged. "Cool."
"What's your name?"
"You can read all about it somewhere else."
"What?"
"It's all on the iPad," he told me.
"What's your name," I repeated.
He rolls his eyes and looks at me as if I had asked him a stupid question.
I don't budge.
He whined, "Bobbie. Now come on, the next rounds about to start." he pulled his headphones over his ears. I grabbed the remote to get his attention. "What. Hey come on."
"It's nice to meet you Bobbie. Your mom's going to be away for a few hours and I'll be here until she gets back. Dinner is at 6:00 and I will make snacks at 4:30."
"No cap," he motioned at the tv, "Now can I get back to my game.
"Sure I tell him." Pocketing the remote.
"Hey!"
"Bye," I tell him as I close the door behind me.
So I'm back out in the hallway. And I open a few more doors. Some were locked. Before I get into one that's rather plain. There's a picture hanging up behind the bed, a tv, some lamps and shade. On the bed sits an identical, about 9 or 10, twins it seems. Probably why Bobbie was tired of being asked which one he was.
This one was staring at the blank screen. No video games. And quiet. Now I've babysat my share of kids before, and have seen all sorts. Quiet kids are my favorite. They don't mind board games, or listening. Most often times they only need to be left alone. I don't do too much talking in case they get tired of hearing my voice. And I give them a lot of space. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was in here."
He turned to me slowly, "Hi. Are you the new sitter?"
I nodded, "Yup. And I'm guessing that you're Max. I'll be watching you guys while your mom is away."
"She's probably going to work."
"Yeah, looked like it." I see the iPad in his hands. "Hey. I was looking for that."
"She's always at work." He hands it over. "It's dead. And mom took the charger."
I tried not to sigh. This was not how I wanted things to go. "Well, ok. If you need anything. Let me know. Or else I can come get you at 4:30 for snacks and dinner at 6."
He nodded, "Thanks," and goes back to staring at the screen.
I smile but he doesn't see, so I leave, closing the door softly behind me.
I make my way downstairs, wandering into the kitchen and start taking stock of what's there. Which was practically everything. This kitchen was so chic that I half expected Gordon Ramsay to pop out and tell me that the banana bread I made didn't have a clue if he staked the curved yellow fruit down the middle (it's a bad question mark joke. Listen. I never said I was funny).
Once I made sure that there was food, or ingredients to make food. There wasn't much else to do. The house was spotless. The kids were fine. And even the dog seemed well behaved. So I plopped on the couch, took out my fake braces, and watched tv until about 4:10 before I started slicing apples and celery to go with some peanut butter.
I fed the dog some peanut butter and licked my fingers (not with the hand I fed the dog with), before heading upstairs. Bobbie took the plate no problem but I couldn't find Max for the life of me. I wandered the rooms as the dog followed, still trying to lick my hand. "Max, I've got snacks." I knocked on what seemed like the umpteenth door before I get to a rather solid oak one that seemed custom.
Inside was the biggest home library I had ever seen. And I once dog sat for a pretentious professor from the college nearby. I mean, there was a portrait of said academic holding his dog in 18th century art style hanging over the mantle place of the deep wood cabinets filled with books. And yet this library made the other one look like a neighborhood book exchange birdbox.
"Holy..."
"Cow."
I whirled around to find Max standing in the doorway.
"You shouldn't wander into Father's study."
"I was just looking for you," holding up the plate. He made a face. "What? You don't like PB&C?" I took a stick and crunched on the celery.
"I'm not hungry."
I shrug. "Take it anyway. In case you get hungry."
He grabs the plate from me without much struggle so I decide to leave him be. I went back downstairs and crashed in front of the tv.
When I woke up. It was dark. My mouth was dry and all of the lights were off. The screen saver flashed the logo in blinks, lighting up the room only momentarily. For a second I forgot where I was and felt my heart thumping in my chest. My alarm didn't go off but I don't know why I woke up. Then I heard it again. The sound that must have jerked me awake. A crash. It came from upstairs. I grab my phone and glance down at the numbers. It was 8:10. I had slept through dinner. Shit. Shit. Shit. Here I was trying to make a good first impression and I missed out on dinner.
I wipe what drool was on my face and took to the stairs. Bobbie was probably so immersed in his game that he probably didn't even know he was hungry. Max on the other hand. "Max?" I call out down the hall. All of the doors are shut. I can hear something panting behind me. I turn to see the dog again. Its head is down and there's barely any light touching its face. "Hey come here," I called but it retreated in the opposite direction.
Then I shit me not. I heard a creaking come from behind me. It was the only noise in the house. I couldn't even hear Bobbie yelling in his room. I turn slowly and see one of the doors down the hall is now slightly ajar. It's dark in here. It was dark everywhere. I pressed my hands against the wall searching for a light switch. "Bobbie," I call out. There's no answer. "Hey, sorry about the delay in dinner. I'm going to get to it now."
Why was this place so big? And why could I see the door?
"Bobbie. Max?" I hear the dog tapping its paws behind me. Someone on the other side of the house by now. "Hey, where are you guys?" I peer at the single door that's open and realized why it was so prominent. The hall was dark, but what was inside was even darker. Instead of going toward it, I try the first knob my blind fingers came across. Process of elimination I told myself. It was locked. I tried the next one. Also locked. I finally get to Bobbie's door and I knock. "Bobbie." There's no answer. I press my head against the door and listen. But I don't hear a single sound.
"Where are all the light switches in this place!"
The door that was open before slightly opens again. Creaking, *tic tic tic tic*, with each ungreased turn of the hinge. "Shit. Hey, stop playing around."
There's laughing coming from behind me. It sounded like a little kids. Too young to be either of the boys. Followed by smaller footsteps. It sounded like they were barefoot. "Hey, this isn't funny. I'm going to tell your mother when she gets home." I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. "When is she coming home?" It was almost 8:30, when I realized that we never set a time.
I hear footsteps again, they were odd. Almost like falling. Like a toddler learning how to run for the first time but the hollow ground sounded as if the person was much heavier. I shine my flashlight over the hall. "Shit." The dog was sitting on all fours in the corner. It was facing the wall. I couldn't even see his face. Every hair on its body completely still.
"Hey," I called out. "Come here." I clicked my tongue. "Come here." The dog didn't move. I couldn't even see it breathing.
Bang! It sounded like thunder behind me. As if someone dropped something on the floor. As if something fell off a shelf or was pushed. I jumped around and shone my light down the west wing. I didn't know if I should have been more or less afraid now that the door was closed. "Bobbie? Max?"
God. I did not want to try the door. And I stood there for a minute before realizing how stupid I must have looked. These were some rich kids playing a joke on you Camilia. I know it. The thought of their smug little faces made me stomp out of my frozen state. I took a couple of strides over and grabbed the handle.
"Fuck!" The thing was hot. "What the hell! You guys could have hurt me," I yelled. I banged on the door. "Open up. You two are in so much trouble." I banged on the door again. "Open the door. Right now!" I could hear something on the other side. It sounded like shuffling. Heavy furniture perhaps. "You guys better not be messing things up in there. I'm not going to clean it. I mean it."
I banged on the door. "I can hear you in there! Now come on!" I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. "I'm waiting. Your little jokes over now." I banged on the door again.
That's when the door knocked back.
It wouldn't have scared me. I don't think. Except for the fact that I was surprised. And alone in the hall. Without any of the lights on. In a strange house. And before I could say anything else. Another door behind me knocked from the inside. "Shit. Both of you are in on this?" I grabbed the handle to the other door. It was also locked. I banged on it. "Come out right now. Max?"
But then a third door started knocked from down the hall. I felt my throat clump as I tried to swallow. "You guys weren't supposed to have anyone over." The knocking didn't stop. It kept echoing down the hall. "I'm not getting paid for three kids you know?"
Tat-tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
I took a single step. And then all of the doors in the hallway suddenly started banging.
I almost tripped as I ran toward the stairs. The doors were thundering on so hard I thought they would crack their hinges. I skipped the stairs, the sounds chasing me as I tried to not fall and break my neck. When I got to the front landing I hear someone say my name.
"Camilia. Are you okay?"
I'm trying not to choke on a lung here as I shot my eyes toward the kitchen. The kids are sitting on the barstools lining the counter. There are two plates in front of them. As if they didn't hear the drumline upstairs.
"Is it dinner time yet," one of them asks quietly.
"Max?"
He smiles.
"Kids. I think there's someone in the house." I rush over to grab each of their hands. Bobbie's wrists are limp but it was Max's hands that shocked me. They were ice cold. I tried to let go but my fingers wouldn't uncurl.
He turns my hand over and says, "There's no one else in this house except us. I promise."
"No," I wasn't about to listen to the kid even if it was his house. "Something is wrong. We have to go. Now." I pick up Bobbie and he doesn't seem to want to move. "Come on Bobbie. Let's go." He looks over at Max who shrugs and get out of his seat.
Bobbie follows as I drag them toward the front door.
"Camilia," Max says.
"What?" He looked scared. Which made me turn toward what he was staring out. At the front door was a tall figure. I couldn't see its face through the glass. It was a stark figure of a man.
"Do you think it's your dad?"
Max shakes his head. I feel him pulling against my arm.
I call out to the man, "Hey! Who is it?" The man doesn't budge. "I'm calling the police." I turn to Bobbie, "Get the phone." He doesn't move. "Hey!" I'm trying to sound as angry as possible. "Get the fuck out of here!" I grabbed a roll of painter's tape from the side table and hurl it across the hall, hitting the glass squarely in the face where the man's head stood blocking the exit. He doesn't even twitch as the glass shakes.
"Come on," I grab their hands and rush to the back. I don't get 10 steps before I feel a scream crawl up my throat making me cough. The man was standing at the sliding door. "Fuck!" I drag the two of them with me towards the kitchen. It's a big place so there had to be a way out to the garage. We push through one of the doors and end up in the laundry room. The next door gets us out into a 3 car garage. My hands find the glowing green opener against the wall and I hear the opener fold seamlessly towards the ceiling.
It started with his feet. Then his ankles. His shins. Then his legs. Light poured in behind him from the streetlamp. I watched as the door went to his waist before I hit the button for the garage to close, before rushing back inside. We make it into the kitchen to where I still see the tall man standing at the sliding door. A part of me wants to hide in the laundry room but I didn't want to be sandwiched in the middle of the house. So I pull the boys back up the stairs, back to where the doors banged themselves. Taking out my phone as we ascended, and called 911.
"This is the police operator speaking."
"HELLO", I hope they could hear me, "There are several men trying to get inside!"
"Men? Are you in any danger?"
"No! But they have us surrounded!"
"Why don't you go outside?"
My tongue suddenly felt numb in my mouth. Like I didn't know what to do with it. "W-what?"
"It's stranger in the house."
The line went dead as we hit the hallway.
I only took my eyes off of them for a second before Bobbie. Or Max. Runs down the hall. The one or the other already slipping through a door ahead. I look back down the stairs and see that the man is still standing in front of the doorway. I look back up and see the other boy also going through the same door. I take a single step and the doors start pounding on either side. I shut my eyes and turn around. Afraid to go. Almost deciding that these weren't my kids. That I should run away. I take a step backwards mouthing that I was sorry. But I was too scared to go! "Max! Bobbie!" My back foot sticks to the floor. I don't want to look down but the next step sticks too. I point my phone to the ground and see a trail of blood. And just behind me. It's the dog. Split right down the middle, its spine shiny and white, still facing the wall. I could see its organs still pulsing.
I couldn't go back downstairs. I couldn't go the other way. I couldn't leave them here. I couldn't be alone.
I ran after them. The thundering of the doors following me as frames fell to the floor. A vase rolled off a table in the hall. It came crashing at my feet. I run my shoulder through the door, except it wasn't locked. Which caused me to go crashing, sprawling to the floor. Running into the desk in the middle of the room.
The study.
Many of the books were off the shelves. The carpet was torn. There were curtains on fire. It was the first time a saw a window as they burned.
"Camilia!"
I hear one of their voices shouting at me.
"Camilia!" It came again. "Help!"
I get to my feet and start working my hands along the desk. I didn't have to search far. The bookcase directly behind the chair had been swung open. "Camilia!" I wipe the blood from my eyebrow where it had split and step into the tunnel behind the secret passage.
The tunnel started off tall and wide, but as I kept walking in. It got smaller and smaller. I started having to hunch. Several times I decided to turn back. But their voices would echo through, calling for me. Asking for help. "I'm coming!"
"I can't hold on! Camilia! Please!"
The twins cry for help bounced off the walls. I was finally on my hands and knees when I finally see two holes on either side. I'm afraid to look but then one of their voices came through clear as day. "Camilia." It was right in my ear now. I turned to see the boy naked and huddling, hugging his knees at the back of his hole.
"Camilia! Help! I don't want to play this game anymore!"
"Bobbie?"
"Help me!"
I look into the hole, the walls are pressing on my back and there's dust going into my lungs. I can barely turn my shoulder. "Crawl out!"
"I can't!"
"Crawl out! I'm right here." I take out my hand, "Come on!"
"Camilia!" Came a voice from the other side.
I turn my head and see Max in the other hole.
"No!" Bobbie shouts at me. "No!"
"Hold on," I tell him. "I'm going to get both of you out of here."
"No," Bobbie cries. "It's all his fault. He's the one that did it. He's the one that wants to get out!"
"Bobbie, what are you talking about."
"He's the one that put something in your drink so you'd fall asleep!"
"He's lying!" Max's voice rang through. "It's him! I saw him. Always in father's study! Reading those books! Trying out those things he reads. Those curses. Those spells. It's why the shadow men are after him! Camilia! You have to believe me."
I can hear Bobbie crying, "Why are you lying! I don't want to play anymore," he screeches. "I don't want to play!" He sobs. "You said you'd go away if I told you that I didn't want to play anymore."
I don't know what made me do it. It sure wasn't the nauseating squealing tantrum of the boy which made me reach for him first. Maybe it was because I wanted him to shut up. I don't know but I plunged my arm up to my shoulder in to grab Bobbie's collar.
Instantly I screamed and saw tiny spiders, short thin legs with round white backs crawl over my arms. I shook my arm in the hole, trying to smother them against the walls. That only caused these long brown flat slugs to fall. I saw one land on my hand. It had three distinct tendon-like lines running across its back and was about a half inch long. I pulled my arm out of the hole as I felt it pierce its flat head into the back of my hand. I dropped my phone and heard it crack as the light splintered in the small, suffocating tunnel. But I didn't care as I looked at my hand and saw it burrowing its tiny spearhead below my skin. I grabbed at the wiggling tail still exposed and tried pulling it out.
It was like trying to pull our barbed wire. The spines on its body were facing me. So with each pull they dug deeper inside. I could see blood pooling under my skin, it was starting to turn purple as I tugged on its tail even harder. Until it gave. Popped right off and lay twitching in my hand. The head missing.
I couldn't take it anymore. Really. I had tried my best. I shake my head. "Bobbie. Bobbie. I'm sorry." But it didn't matter. When I looked over at Bobbie. He was covered in it. All of it. Even the spiders.
My jeans started shifting as I tried to wiggle myself out of there. But I hear Max's cry again. "Camilia! Please!"
"No," I whimpered. Shaking. I couldn't reach my hand in there again. But his voice was so scared. More scared than the pain I felt.
I shot my arm inside. Bracing. Waiting for the pain. But there was none. Instead my hands grasped around his collar and I felt his cold clammy skin, and yanked him from the hole. He came without much struggle. His face covered in the soot of it all. "Camilia," he cried. "You picked me. You did it."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that I almost didn't.
"Come on," I cried. "We. Have. To go."
The two of us wiggled our way out of there, crawling on our hands and knees, and running when we could. We finally make it back into the study. And the fire is roaring now. One of the books fall from the shelves and when it hit the fire I swear it started screaming. There was so much smoke that I couldn't see. And the door was covered by the flames.
I pointed to the window, the curtains on the floor in ashes. I kick the window. It didn't budge. I coughed. I kicked it again. The glass shook. I kicked it again and my foot went through. Pieces of the glass still hung in the frame, I use the tips of my fingers and pull them back. They fall to the floor cracking until there was a hole big enough for me to get through.
I plunge my head out and take my first breath of fresh air. The moon was full and the sky was clear. I could hear sirens coming off in the distance. When both of my feet were on the roof. I reach my hand back and grab Max from the burning house. Together we run across the clay tiles and climb down the arched tree. The red fire truck comes screeching to a stop as several firemen help us down.
One of them pushes a breathing mask on me, and wraps me up. The neighbors are outside, and the police arrive. I see a familiar car come roaring down the street, screaming to a halt as Molly runs out. Her face is flustered and she's shouting. Pushing through the cops until she reaches me next to the ambulance.
"What happened," she literally screamed at me.
"I'm so sorry," I tell her. "There were these men." I take another breath. "I couldn't do anything! B-but I saved Max! I saved him!"
She looked at the house. It was blazing now in the cool night. "Oh my god. Is Bobbie still in there?" Molly starts to cry. "My baby!"
"Max. But Max." I cough. "Max is okay!"
And she turns to me. I wasn't expecting her to be grateful. But there's anger on her face. "You didn't save my son. But you saved our dog?"
I shake my head. "No. Max. Your other son." I looked around but he was nowhere to be found.
s
submitted by CornerCornea to nosleep [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 00:49 CornerCornea Stranger in the House

"Come inside, the kids are upstairs." Molly was in a rush, I knew this much from the phone call we had earlier. She had never used me before but heard about me through word of mouth. Which meant that my little side hustle was starting to gain traction.
I am a babysitter for a good neighborhood. There's cars parked outside, lawns are manicured, and the occasional termite company is out doing rounds. I don't know why but I always feel as if there's a termite guy nearby, it's a pretty decent area. Which is a far cry from where I live, on the other side of the tracks, literally. There are train tracks that run through our town and it acts as a divide. But they didn't need to know that. They only needed to see the straightened hair, well spoken, fake braces wearing girl in glasses sporting a skirt that wasn't too short where the neighbors would talk.
Usually I sat down with new clients, have them introduce me to their kids (trust me it helps) in order to make a clear cut line with them that I am in their parent's employ and I am not there to be their bestfriend and will definitely tell on them if they act up or break something. That's not to say I won't play silly games with them, feed them, laugh, tell bed time stories, and age appropriate jokes. But I am nobody's rug.
That's what I usually do, but there wasn't such luxury this time. Molly called me on the phone and she sounded desperate for me to come out. I had concert tickets and told her that they were non-refundable and she suggested that if I could make it in 30 minutes then she'd pay me twice the amount for the tickets and 1.5x my usual rate. I got there in 29 minutes. It would have been sooner but I needed to air myself out if you know what I mean.
Anyways, Molly barely had time to look at my face, let alone get any of my credentials as she was rushing out. Working mom it looked like. Business, by the looks of the pencil skirt and the bag that doubled as a folder. It always amazes me how much trust some people put in others to watch their kids. What if I was a serial killer? Or a deranged lunatic? What if I killed the babysitter on my way here and now I'm in a house, alone, with all her children.
I'm not. But I mean, what if, right?
She didn't seem to think about any of these things, leaving me to mumble goodbyes as she pulled out of the driveway, barely audible as the turbos wound up and she shouted something out the window to the likes of, "It's all on the iPad".
Yeah, no more yellow lined paper stuck with the realtor's magnet on the fridge anymore. It's all digital now.
I closed the door and figured that I better check up on the kids before I did a rundown. God this house was beautiful. I climbed the stairs two at a time and rounded the hall. To be fair, calling it a hall was so basic of me. It was more like a wing. West wing madam. The wing could have fit my living room. I click my heels when I heard a snort come from behind me. I came to face a shaggy dog that was well groomed. The collar was black with an underline of blue. Tiffany's undoubtedly. "Hey," I reached a hand and scratched the mop of top. "Let's go find the kids," I tell the dog as if it could understand me.
There were a series of rooms, most of them closed, but it didn't take me a second guess which one was occupied. The second door on the left, I could hear a kid shouting obscenities about someone being trash. I knocked on that door first.
"Come in," he shouted still loud but slightly less angry.
I opened the door and saw a stereotypical gamer's room. Posters, action figures, a rocking gaming chair on the floor in front of a huge flat screen, and a boy about 9 or 10. He had on his headphones and was sipping a Dr. Pepper.
"Don't they know trash day is on Thursdays?"
He cocked his head and laughed, "If you're looking for my mom I think she's downstairs."
"I'm actually looking for you." And let me tell you something. The audacity of this younger generation. The way he looked at me. Almost made me feel as bad as how I felt when he shrugged his shoulders after he had a good look. "Excuse me," I walk in front of him and blocked the screen. "I'm your new babysitter."
He shrugged. "Cool."
"What's your name?"
"You can read all about it somewhere else."
"What?"
"It's all on the iPad," he told me.
"What's your name," I repeated.
He rolls his eyes and looks at me as if I had asked him a stupid question.
I don't budge.
He whined, "Bobbie. Now come on, the next rounds about to start." he pulled his headphones over his ears. I grabbed the remote to get his attention. "What. Hey come on."
"It's nice to meet you Bobbie. Your mom's going to be away for a few hours and I'll be here until she gets back. Dinner is at 6:00 and I will make snacks at 4:30."
"No cap," he motioned at the tv, "Now can I get back to my game.
"Sure I tell him." Pocketing the remote.
"Hey!"
"Bye," I tell him as I close the door behind me.
So I'm back out in the hallway. And I open a few more doors. Some were locked. Before I get into one that's rather plain. There's a picture hanging up behind the bed, a tv, some lamps and shade. On the bed sits an identical, about 9 or 10, twins it seems. Probably why Bobbie was tired of being asked which one he was.
This one was staring at the blank screen. No video games. And quiet. Now I've babysat my share of kids before, and have seen all sorts. Quiet kids are my favorite. They don't mind board games, or listening. Most often times they only need to be left alone. I don't do too much talking in case they get tired of hearing my voice. And I give them a lot of space. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was in here."
He turned to me slowly, "Hi. Are you the new sitter?"
I nodded, "Yup. And I'm guessing that you're Max. I'll be watching you guys while your mom is away."
"She's probably going to work."
"Yeah, looked like it." I see the iPad in his hands. "Hey. I was looking for that."
"She's always at work." He hands it over. "It's dead. And mom took the charger."
I tried not to sigh. This was not how I wanted things to go. "Well, ok. If you need anything. Let me know. Or else I can come get you at 4:30 for snacks and dinner at 6."
He nodded, "Thanks," and goes back to staring at the screen.
I smile but he doesn't see, so I leave, closing the door softly behind me.
I make my way downstairs, wandering into the kitchen and start taking stock of what's there. Which was practically everything. This kitchen was so chic that I half expected Gordon Ramsay to pop out and tell me that the banana bread I made didn't have a clue if he staked the curved yellow fruit down the middle (it's a bad question mark joke. Listen. I never said I was funny).
Once I made sure that there was food, or ingredients to make food. There wasn't much else to do. The house was spotless. The kids were fine. And even the dog seemed well behaved. So I plopped on the couch, took out my fake braces, and watched tv until about 4:10 before I started slicing apples and celery to go with some peanut butter.
I fed the dog some peanut butter and licked my fingers (not with the hand I fed the dog with), before heading upstairs. Bobbie took the plate no problem but I couldn't find Max for the life of me. I wandered the rooms as the dog followed, still trying to lick my hand. "Max, I've got snacks." I knocked on what seemed like the umpteenth door before I get to a rather solid oak one that seemed custom.
Inside was the biggest home library I had ever seen. And I once dog sat for a pretentious professor from the college nearby. I mean, there was a portrait of said academic holding his dog in 18th century art style hanging over the mantle place of the deep wood cabinets filled with books. And yet this library made the other one look like a neighborhood book exchange birdbox.
"Holy..."
"Cow."
I whirled around to find Max standing in the doorway.
"You shouldn't wander into Father's study."
"I was just looking for you," holding up the plate. He made a face. "What? You don't like PB&C?" I took a stick and crunched on the celery.
"I'm not hungry."
I shrug. "Take it anyway. In case you get hungry."
He grabs the plate from me without much struggle so I decide to leave him be. I went back downstairs and crashed in front of the tv.
When I woke up. It was dark. My mouth was dry and all of the lights were off. The screen saver flashed the logo in blinks, lighting up the room only momentarily. For a second I forgot where I was and felt my heart thumping in my chest. My alarm didn't go off but I don't know why I woke up. Then I heard it again. The sound that must have jerked me awake. A crash. It came from upstairs. I grab my phone and glance down at the numbers. It was 8:10. I had slept through dinner. Shit. Shit. Shit. Here I was trying to make a good first impression and I missed out on dinner.
I wipe what drool was on my face and took to the stairs. Bobbie was probably so immersed in his game that he probably didn't even know he was hungry. Max on the other hand. "Max?" I call out down the hall. All of the doors are shut. I can hear something panting behind me. I turn to see the dog again. Its head is down and there's barely any light touching its face. "Hey come here," I called but it retreated in the opposite direction.
Then I shit me not. I heard a creaking come from behind me. It was the only noise in the house. I couldn't even hear Bobbie yelling in his room. I turn slowly and see one of the doors down the hall is now slightly ajar. It's dark in here. It was dark everywhere. I pressed my hands against the wall searching for a light switch. "Bobbie," I call out. There's no answer. "Hey, sorry about the delay in dinner. I'm going to get to it now."
Why was this place so big? And why could I see the door?
"Bobbie. Max?" I hear the dog tapping its paws behind me. Someone on the other side of the house by now. "Hey, where are you guys?" I peer at the single door that's open and realized why it was so prominent. The hall was dark, but what was inside was even darker. Instead of going toward it, I try the first knob my blind fingers came across. Process of elimination I told myself. It was locked. I tried the next one. Also locked. I finally get to Bobbie's door and I knock. "Bobbie." There's no answer. I press my head against the door and listen. But I don't hear a single sound.
"Where are all the light switches in this place!"
The door that was open before slightly opens again. Creaking, *tic tic tic tic*, with each ungreased turn of the hinge. "Shit. Hey, stop playing around."
There's laughing coming from behind me. It sounded like a little kids. Too young to be either of the boys. Followed by smaller footsteps. It sounded like they were barefoot. "Hey, this isn't funny. I'm going to tell your mother when she gets home." I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. "When is she coming home?" It was almost 8:30, when I realized that we never set a time.
I hear footsteps again, they were odd. Almost like falling. Like a toddler learning how to run for the first time but the hollow ground sounded as if the person was much heavier. I shine my flashlight over the hall. "Shit." The dog was sitting on all fours in the corner. It was facing the wall. I couldn't even see his face. Every hair on its body completely still.
"Hey," I called out. "Come here." I clicked my tongue. "Come here." The dog didn't move. I couldn't even see it breathing.
Bang! It sounded like thunder behind me. As if someone dropped something on the floor. As if something fell off a shelf or was pushed. I jumped around and shone my light down the west wing. I didn't know if I should have been more or less afraid now that the door was closed. "Bobbie? Max?"
God. I did not want to try the door. And I stood there for a minute before realizing how stupid I must have looked. These were some rich kids playing a joke on you Camilia. I know it. The thought of their smug little faces made me stomp out of my frozen state. I took a couple of strides over and grabbed the handle.
"Fuck!" The thing was hot. "What the hell! You guys could have hurt me," I yelled. I banged on the door. "Open up. You two are in so much trouble." I banged on the door again. "Open the door. Right now!" I could hear something on the other side. It sounded like shuffling. Heavy furniture perhaps. "You guys better not be messing things up in there. I'm not going to clean it. I mean it."
I banged on the door. "I can hear you in there! Now come on!" I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. "I'm waiting. Your little jokes over now." I banged on the door again.
That's when the door knocked back.
It wouldn't have scared me. I don't think. Except for the fact that I was surprised. And alone in the hall. Without any of the lights on. In a strange house. And before I could say anything else. Another door behind me knocked from the inside. "Shit. Both of you are in on this?" I grabbed the handle to the other door. It was also locked. I banged on it. "Come out right now. Max?"
But then a third door started knocked from down the hall. I felt my throat clump as I tried to swallow. "You guys weren't supposed to have anyone over." The knocking didn't stop. It kept echoing down the hall. "I'm not getting paid for three kids you know?"
Tat-tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
I took a single step. And then all of the doors in the hallway suddenly started banging.
I almost tripped as I ran toward the stairs. The doors were thundering on so hard I thought they would crack their hinges. I skipped the stairs, the sounds chasing me as I tried to not fall and break my neck. When I got to the front landing I hear someone say my name.
"Camilia. Are you okay?"
I'm trying not to choke on a lung here as I shot my eyes toward the kitchen. The kids are sitting on the barstools lining the counter. There are two plates in front of them. As if they didn't hear the drumline upstairs.
"Is it dinner time yet," one of them asks quietly.
"Max?"
He smiles.
"Kids. I think there's someone in the house." I rush over to grab each of their hands. Bobbie's wrists are limp but it was Max's hands that shocked me. They were ice cold. I tried to let go but my fingers wouldn't uncurl.
He turns my hand over and says, "There's no one else in this house except us. I promise."
"No," I wasn't about to listen to the kid even if it was his house. "Something is wrong. We have to go. Now." I pick up Bobbie and he doesn't seem to want to move. "Come on Bobbie. Let's go." He looks over at Max who shrugs and get out of his seat.
Bobbie follows as I drag them toward the front door.
"Camilia," Max says.
"What?" He looked scared. Which made me turn toward what he was staring out. At the front door was a tall figure. I couldn't see its face through the glass. It was a stark figure of a man.
"Do you think it's your dad?"
Max shakes his head. I feel him pulling against my arm.
I call out to the man, "Hey! Who is it?" The man doesn't budge. "I'm calling the police." I turn to Bobbie, "Get the phone." He doesn't move. "Hey!" I'm trying to sound as angry as possible. "Get the fuck out of here!" I grabbed a roll of painter's tape from the side table and hurl it across the hall, hitting the glass squarely in the face where the man's head stood blocking the exit. He doesn't even twitch as the glass shakes.
"Come on," I grab their hands and rush to the back. I don't get 10 steps before I feel a scream crawl up my throat making me cough. The man was standing at the sliding door. "Fuck!" I drag the two of them with me towards the kitchen. It's a big place so there had to be a way out to the garage. We push through one of the doors and end up in the laundry room. The next door gets us out into a 3 car garage. My hands find the glowing green opener against the wall and I hear the opener fold seamlessly towards the ceiling.
It started with his feet. Then his ankles. His shins. Then his legs. Light poured in from behind him from the streetlamp. I watched as the door went to his waist before I hit the button for the garage to close, before rushing back inside. We make it into the kitchen to where I still see the tall man standing at the sliding door. A part of me wants to hide in the laundry room but I didn't want to be sandwiched in the middle of the house. So I pull the boys back up the stairs, back to where the doors banged themselves. Taking out my phone as we ascended, and called 911.
"This is the police operator speaking."
"HELLO", I hope they could hear me, "There are several men trying to get inside!"
"Men? Are you in any danger?"
"No! But they have us surrounded!"
"Why don't you go outside?"
My tongue suddenly felt numb in my mouth. Like I didn't know what to do with it. "W-what?"
"It's stranger in the house."
The line went dead as we hit the hallway.
I only took my eyes off of them for a second before Bobbie. Or Max. Runs down the hall. The one or the other already slipping through a door ahead. I look back down the stairs and see that the man is still standing in front of the doorway. I look back up and see the other boy also going through the same door. I take a single step and the doors start pounding on either side. I shut my eyes and turn around. Afraid to go. Almost deciding that these weren't my kids. That I should run away. I take a step backwards mouthing that I was sorry. But I was too scared to go! "Max! Bobbie!" My back foot sticks to the floor. I don't want to look down but the next step sticks too. I point my phone to the ground and see a trail of blood. And just behind me. It's the dog. Split right down the middle, its spine shiny and white, still facing the wall. I could see its organs still pulsing.
I couldn't go back downstairs. I couldn't go the other way. I couldn't leave them here. I couldn't be alone.
I ran after them. The thundering of the doors following me as frames fell to the floor. A vase rolled off a table in the hall. It came crashing at my feet. I run my shoulder through the door, except it wasn't locked. Which caused me to go crashing, sprawling to the floor. Running into the desk in the middle of the room.
The study.
Many of the books were off the shelves. The carpet was torn. There were curtains on fire. It was the first time a saw a window as they burned.
"Camilia!"
I hear one of their voices shouting at me.
"Camilia!" It came again. "Help!"
I get to my feet and start working my hands along the desk. I didn't have to search far. The bookcase directly behind the chair had been swung open. "Camilia!" I wipe the blood from my eyebrow where it had split and step into the tunnel behind the secret passage.
The tunnel started off tall and wide, but as I kept walking in. It got smaller and smaller. I started having to hunch. Several times I decided to turn back. But their voices would echo through, calling for me. Asking for help. "I'm coming!"
"I can't hold on! Camilia! Please!"
The twins cry for help bounced off the walls. I was finally on my hands and knees when I finally see two holes on either side. I'm afraid to look but then one of their voices came through clear as day. "Camilia." It was right in my ear now. I turned to see the boy naked and huddling, hugging his knees at the back of his hole.
"Camilia! Help! I don't want to play this game anymore!"
"Bobbie?"
"Help me!"
I look into the hole, the walls are pressing on my back and there's dust going into my lungs. I can barely turn my shoulder. "Crawl out!"
"I can't!"
"Crawl out! I'm right here." I take out my hand, "Come on!"
"Camilia!" Came a voice from the other side.
I turn my head and see Max in the other hole.
"No!" Bobbie shouts at me. "No!"
"Hold on," I tell him. "I'm going to get both of you out of here."
"No," Bobbie cries. "It's all his fault. He's the one that did it. He's the one that wants to get out!"
"Bobbie, what are you talking about."
"He's the one that put something in your drink so you'd fall asleep!"
"He's lying!" Max's voice rang through. "It's him! I saw him. Always in father's study! Reading those books! Trying out those things he reads. Those curses. Those spells. It's why the shadow men are after him! Camilia! You have to believe me."
I can hear Bobbie crying, "Why are you lying! I don't want to play anymore," he screeches. "I don't want to play!" He sobs. "You said you'd go away if I told you that I didn't want to play anymore."
I don't know what made me do it. It sure wasn't the nauseating squealing tantrum of the boy which made me reach for him first. Maybe it was because I wanted him to shut up. I don't know but I plunged my arm up to my shoulder in to grab his collar.
Instantly I screamed and saw tiny spiders, short thing legs with round white backs crawl over my arms. I shook my arm in the hole, trying to smother them against the walls. That only caused these long brown flat slugs to fall. I saw one land on my hand. It had three distinct tendon-like lines running across its back and was about a half inch long. I pulled my arm out of the hole as I felt it pierce its flat head into the back of my hand. I dropped my phone and heard it crack as the light splintered in the small, suffocating tunnel. But I didn't care as I looked at my hand and saw it burrowing its tiny spearhead below my skin. I grabbed at the wiggling tail still exposed and tried pulling it out.
It was like trying to pull our barbed wire. The spines on its body were facing me. So with each pull they dug deeper inside. I could see blood pooling under my skin, it was starting to turn purple as I tugged on its tail even harder. Until it gave. Popped right off and lay twitching in my hand. The head missing.
I couldn't take it anymore. Really. I had tried my best. I shake my head. "Bobbie. Bobbie. I'm sorry." But it didn't matter. When I looked over at Bobbie. He was covered in it. All of it. Even the spiders.
My jeans started shifting as I tried to wiggle myself out of there. But I hear Max's cry again. "Camilia! Please!"
"No," I whimpered. Shaking. I couldn't reach my hand in there again. But his voice was so scared. More scared than the pain I felt.
I shot my arm inside. Bracing. Waiting for the pain. But there was none. Instead my hands grasped around his collar and I felt his cold clammy skin, and yanked him from the hole. He came without much struggle. His face covered in the soot of it all. "Camilia," he cried. "You picked me. You did it."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that I almost didn't.
"Come on," I cried. "We. Have. To go."
The two of us wiggled our way out of there, crawling on our hands and knees, and running when we could. We finally make it back into the study. And the fire is roaring now. One of the books fall from the shelves and when it hit the fire I swear it started screaming. There was so much smoke that I couldn't see. And the door was covered by the flames.
I pointed to the window, the curtains on the floor in ashes. I kick the window. It didn't budge. I coughed. I kicked it again. The glass shook. I kicked it again and my foot went through. Pieces of the glass still hung in the frame, I use the tips of my fingers and pull them back. They fall to the floor cracking until there was a hole big enough for me to get through.
I plunge my head out and take my first breath of fresh air. The moon was full and the sky was clear. I could hear sirens coming off in the distance. When both of my feet were on the roof. I reach my hand back and grab Max from the burning house. Together we run across the clay tiles and climb down the arched tree. The red fire truck comes screeching to a stop as several firemen help us down.
One of them pushes a breathing mask on me, and wraps me up. The neighbors are outside, and the police arrive. I see a familiar car come roaring down the street, screaming to a halt as Molly runs out. Her face is flustered and she's shouting. Pushing through the cops until she reaches me next to the ambulance.
"What happened," she literally screamed at me.
"I'm so sorry," I tell her. "There were these men." I take another breath. "I couldn't do anything! B-but I saved Max! I saved him!"
She looked at the house. It was blazing now in the cool night. "Oh my god. Is Bobbie still in there?" Molly starts to cry. "My baby!"
"Max. But Max." I cough. "Max is okay!"
And she turns to me. I wasn't expecting her to be grateful. But there's anger on her face. "You didn't save my son. But you saved our dog?"
I shake my head. "No. Max. Your other son." I looked around but he was nowhere to be found.

s
submitted by CornerCornea to CornerCornea [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 00:15 partylikeyossarian What it means to be treated like a criminal

I grew up as an unwanted guest. Theirs house, their food, their money. Nothing I used or touched belonged to me. I was thrown out often, threatened with the police...every dollar spent was a dollar owed.
When I started working, that money was also theirs. To keep the paychecks myself would be stealing.
I escaped to a fancy school on merit scholarship. Too fancy--I grifted my way into a frivolously high-minded education, unsuitable for the poors..
When I got paid for internships, it was considered excessive generosity. They often say that entry level labor actually costs money, and being given the opportunity to work was already an act of charity.
When I started making normal amounts of money my family acted shocked and appalled, that I had played a trick on someone. How can my labor be charged for more than minimum survival wages, I was pricing myself at above what I am worth.
-
I made an appointment with a social worker to help me permanently cut ties with my family. She told me she was going to have me stay at a "safe place" and talk to me the next day.
When I arrived at the "safe place", an intake doctor told me to provide my health insurance information. He screamed in my face to call my daddy, that the services I was taking costs a thousand dollars a night and If I don't pay they will garnish my wages, my student loans---call your daddy. He looked at me like I was a thief.
I told him I won't stay here then. He told me I couldn't leave.
He was a psych doctor. The "safe place" was a locked psychiatric facility. The social worker did not contact me the next day. Or the next. When I tried to call her they told me she had gone on vacation. They told me she had me committed because I scared her.
-
The neighborhood I was living in sat on the edge of gentrification. One day I locked myself out, I knocked on the door of a neighbor and asked her to call the superintendent for me. When the super showed up, this neighbor decided that no, I don't in fact live here and was actually a burglar.
It did not matter that the super knew me--he was not the landlord. All the signs in the apartment that would show I lived there did not matter. It did not matter that I often smiled and greeted her when we passed each other in the hall. I was a thief and she was going to call the police. I ran. I walked around the city for hours until I knew my roommates got back.
-
I left the city.
I stayed with a childhood friend for two weeks while looking for a room. Her boyfriend decided I was probably a pedo, probably killed their cat, was probably going to kill them too.
My friend of 8 years did not think I was any of those things, but found a way to side with her boyfriend: by reasoning I must have said something or acted shady and suspicious.
I left a city again.
This time I would book a hostel while looking for work and an apartment. Another childhood friend insisted I stay with her. Money was getting tight so I accepted. She had a new boyfriend I'd never met before.
Three days later, I came back from an evening walk to five police officers and an ambulance in front of their building. They jumped me without announcing themselves and put me in prone restrain. My friend and her boyfriend stood behind the front gate, watching.
When I woke up the next day in psych detention, the intake doctor decided there was no reason for me to be there and let me go. The police paperwork said I was high on drugs and had superhuman strength, that it took a triple dose of tranquilizer to put me down.
-
Gig work is exhausting. I looked endlessly for stable work. The older white people in my professional network did not feel the need to offer help when I asked for it. They told me I was fine, I was going to be okay, because I was a "hustler".
When I told the older adults in my social community that I was breaking down from feeling always like an outsider, treated like a stranger and foreigner by the people I was born to, the country I was born to--they told me I was playing the victim. These older adults prided themselves on helping queer and BIPOC youth from unstable backgrounds. But looking at me they decided I didn't count; I was fishing for stolen valor.
-
When I applied for food stamps I was told I was stealing from the government. When I applied for healthcare benefits I was told I was stealing from the government.
After bad experiences with mainstream doctors, I went to a LGBT clinic. People like me were not included on their forms. When I looked to get included, I discovered that a lot of people think we don't count and shouldn't be stealing resources from real queerfolk.
When I lived in a city where 45% of people who look like me lived below the poverty line, the mayor publicly stated that we were the wrong kind of BIPOC, our poverty was less real, and we shouldn't be included in aid programs.
--
Thief. Burglar. Grifter. Hustler. Danger. Intruder. Why would this be such a recurring theme in my life if I didn't deserve it on some level?
But I'm just doing normal things
Standing outside my front door, walking through neighborhoods, visiting other people's homes, buying groceries, going to the bank, using healthcare, talking to social services, driving a car, tapping a metro card, window shopping, asking for support, answering questions about myself honestly, job interviews, climbing the ladder, cashing a paycheck, accepting gifts, walking past security, existing around white people.
When I do these things, I have to keep suppressing the electric feeling that I'm behaving like a
Thief. Burglar. Grifter. Hustler. Danger. Intruder.
And they've decided I just have some incoherent medically broken brain. What am I even talking about. A completely incomprehensible problem that makes no sense. I don't actually live every day vibrating with hypervigilance, teetering on the edge fighting not to internalize Thief. Burglar. Grifter. Hustler. Danger. Intruder. which society burned into my neurons, baked into my bones at every step, every breath.
They've decided that it's just some elaborate dramatic excuse I made up for some reason. Sounds like something a Grifter might use as a smokescreen for whatever unidentified Hustle I must be pulling.
--
TLDR; There's a more succinct and cogent academic analysis somewhere in here about the social process of being villainized but I can't put it together. I'm too far inside it to see from that viewpoint...I feel like I'm barely hanging on to most my marbles, it's all just a fucking mess.
submitted by partylikeyossarian to cptsd_bipoc [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 00:04 umadbruv478 My (20M) GF’s (20F) best friend manipulated my friend group to break us up, but they’re still friends

We’ve been together for 1.5 years & attend the same college. Our relationship has been rocky this past school year. I didn’t come over to hers at all, & there was a general lack of effort from me. So GF would complain to Emily, her new housemate & best friend, about our relationship issues. Emily said that I was toxic and abusive so we talked. That was months ago & our relationship got better, I tried harder & went over once or twice. But each time I saw Emily she’d remark about me being a shitty boyfriend. If the two of them were together she’d say “Come hang out, be an actual boyfriend!” If GF didn’t come over to mine, she was always with Emily; each time I’d leave comfort zone to spend time with GF I would be met with Emily’s passive-aggressive remarks. So I didn’t go over to her house. I hated being around her waiting to hear what new insult she could come up with.
They did a group project that required GF to checkout of an AirBnB very early in the morning. It was a long drive at 2am & Emily refused to drive GF because she was tired. GF started crying so Emily cancels the Uber & tells GF that she’ll drive GF to the AirBnB, she isn’t mad, loves GF & wants GF to be safe. Once they arrive Emily tells GF it’s unfair to make her drive so far this late, & that she’s a bad friend.
We had one last get-together to get rid of our alc before the year ends & GF asked if she could bring Emily, I said yes not wanting her to hate me more. Once the party died down GF, a few friends & I were in my room. Emily came in after most people left & sat next to GF. She began texting GF, got up & made an excuse to leave. GF kept getting texts after Emily left & was visibly upset. Everyone left so we could talk alone. GF showed me the texts & Emily said that everyone not in my room was talking shit about us, that I’m a horrible person, I always treat GF like shit, & everyone agreed.
The next morning GF talked to Emily & she did a retelling of how I’m “toxic and abusive” & that we need to break up. Emily’s points were based in truth (I never come over to their house, lack of effort, etc.) but she twisted them so much to describe me as abusive. That night I had someone from other room come tell GF & I their side. None of what Emily said was true & she completely lied. GF texted Emily she was at mine so Emily started attacking GF over text, threatening to text me & tell me how horrible I am, & to even come over and say it to my face. Emily said “you’re ruining all your friendships over a fucking GUY.” Emily sent paragraph after paragraph & GF was in tears. GF decided to go back home & talk to Emily in person because she cares for Emily a lot.
GF made her choice to stay together but she’s staying friends with Emily. I’ve expressed to GF my feelings on how psychotic Emily is for doing that, which GF has acknowledged. She plans to stop talking to Emily eventually, but Emily is still invited to her grad party in June where I will have to interact with her. Last week GF admitted what Emily said still makes her doubt sometimes, & I told her I don’t want to be in a relationship where she constantly feeds into gossip about me. This put a huge strain on our relationship & I feel hurt each time she brings up Emily. Is my GF not supportive enough? Am I just being crazy?
TL;DR - My GF’s best friend lied that my friend group said I was a horrible person and worse boyfriend to make her break up with me. I expressed my feelings to my GF about how she’s manipulative but she still wants to be friends.
submitted by umadbruv478 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 23:52 umadbruv478 My (20M) GF’s (20F) best friend manipulated my friend group to break us up, but they’re still friends

We’ve been together for 1.5 years & attend the same college. Our relationship has been rocky this past school year. I didn’t come over to hers at all, & there was a general lack of effort from me. So GF would complain to Emily, her new housemate & best friend, about our relationship issues. Emily said that I was toxic and abusive so we talked. That was months ago & our relationship got better, I tried harder & went over once or twice. But each time I saw Emily she’d remark about me being a shitty boyfriend. If the two of them were together she’d say “Come hang out, be an actual boyfriend!” If GF didn’t come over to mine, she was always with Emily; each time I’d leave comfort zone to spend time with GF I would be met with Emily’s passive-aggressive remarks. So I didn’t go over to her house. I hated being around her waiting to hear what new insult she could come up with.
They did a group project that required GF to checkout of an AirBnB very early in the morning. It was a long drive at 2am & Emily refused to drive GF because she was tired. GF started crying so Emily cancels the Uber & tells GF that she’ll drive GF to the AirBnB, she isn’t mad, loves GF & wants GF to be safe. Once they arrive Emily tells GF it’s unfair to make her drive so far this late, & that she’s a bad friend.
We had one last get-together to get rid of our alc before the year ends & GF asked if she could bring Emily, I said yes not wanting her to hate me more. Once the party died down GF, a few friends & I were in my room. Emily came in after most people left & sat next to GF. She began texting GF, got up & made an excuse to leave. GF kept getting texts after Emily left & was visibly upset. Everyone left so we could talk alone. GF showed me the texts & Emily said that everyone not in my room was talking shit about us, that I’m a horrible person, I always treat GF like shit, & everyone agreed.
The next morning GF talked to Emily & she did a retelling of how I’m “toxic and abusive” & that we need to break up. Emily’s points were based in truth (I never come over to their house, lack of effort, etc.) but she twisted them so much to describe me as abusive. That night I had someone from other room come tell GF & I their side. None of what Emily said was true & she completely lied. GF texted Emily she was at mine so Emily started attacking GF over text, threatening to text me & tell me how horrible I am, & to even come over and say it to my face. Emily said “you’re ruining all your friendships over a fucking GUY.” Emily sent paragraph after paragraph & GF was in tears. GF decided to go back home & talk to Emily in person because she cares for Emily a lot.
GF made her choice to stay together but she’s staying friends with Emily. I’ve expressed to GF my feelings on how psychotic Emily is for doing that, which GF has acknowledged. She plans to stop talking to Emily eventually, but Emily is still invited to her grad party in June where I will have to interact with her. Last week GF admitted what Emily said still makes her doubt sometimes, & I told her I don’t want to be in a relationship where she constantly feeds into gossip about me. This put a huge strain on our relationship & I feel hurt each time she brings up Emily.
TL;DR - My GF’s best friend lied that my friend group said I was a horrible person and worse boyfriend to make her break up with me. I expressed my feelings to my GF about how she’s manipulative but she still wants to be friends.
submitted by umadbruv478 to relationships [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 22:53 wholalune In shock (TW: details abuse) ((Long post))

I don't know what to do or know why I won't just leave. I have a car, a good job/finances, and alternative housing immediately available.
I know I'm in a toxic relationship. I hate admitting it, but it is definitely abusive too. I am not sure if it is mutually abusive or if I am just a victim.
I started dating this person a year ago. It's been a rollercoaster from the beginning. We both have extensive childhood trauma. I have done over a decade of therapy for mine. When we met, they had been in therapy for a year. I have been very aware of how my actions in relationships were unhealthy and abusive. I know I have complex PTSD but I never used that as an excuse for my behavior. I know things I've said to past partners were absolutely uncalled for and traumatizing. It's been over 5 years since I have lashed out at someone in an emotionally/psychologically abusive way. I have never spoken to or lashed out at my current partner in the ways I have in the past. What I have done is be paranoid but not in an accusing way. I have not accused my partner of cheating or talking to others; but I have asked them about it. I have never told my partner they couldn't talk to or see anyone. I have been curious about their life and, depending on the situation, have asked whether they were interested in someone as more than friends. They consider my questions as paranoia and controlling.
Background: when we started dating they made it clear that they were going to want to fuck other people eventually. They lied to me by omission about sleeping with someone and then slept with me the same day (which really pissed me off). After that incident, I realized I would have to ask very specific and direct questions. At this point, they have told me multiple times that they don't want to fuck around and they only want me but it's been hard for me to truly believe them.
Other background info: This person is really sick, physically. They have a chronic debilitating condition that is preventing them from working right now. Their parents take care of them financially. A couple of months after we started dating they contracted HSV1 from me (which I was open about having the whole time) and because of their underlying health condition, the HSV almost killed them. It was incredibly traumatizing. They were home-bound for over a month and I was their caregiver. They continue to have problems with it but not nearly as horrible as then.
Their behavior: They have always had difficulty letting me leave when I wanted to go home. It was endearing at first. I liked that they wanted to keep me around so much. I liked the attention and extra love they gave me when they were asking me to stay. The extra attention turned into them becoming upset if I persisted in trying to leave. They would get very pouty, say "no" and bump into me in a way I now consider a push/shove. Other things they did/do that caught my attention but brushed off are teasing me a lot and even though I've complained, they continue to say "it was just a joke, lighten up", and get mad at me for not being cheerful around their friends all the time. They also grab me hard around the arms and neck to pull me in certain directions. If I'm upset and being loud/talking fast they cover my mouth. They insist I be around them all the time when we are together, including when they are showering. If i'm showering they are free to do whatever they want, but if they are they continually ask me to be in the bathroom with them and get upset if I attempt not to be. They ask me specific questions about my conversations with my friends/what i've talked about in therapy; basically, they want a lot of details about my life but if I ask about theirs they might accuse me of being paranoid and controlling. Also, they blow up my phone if I am not responding to them when we are in conflict and away from each other and they have come to my house when i didn't respond.
Their behavior has become increasingly violent. I stopped excusing it and started pointing it out to them. They always denied it at first, which just led to us arguing about it. When we are in conflict I just want to get away. I do have a hard time saying something like "I'm leaving, i'll be back at X time" and instead I am frantically packing my things and just trying to leave, which they say triggers their behavior. They refuse to let me leave though. They physically stop me, they have taken my keys, they have thrown my stuff around many times, and the pushing has gotten a lot worse.
Where we are now: I have begun fighting back and it is a lot worse now. I have lost it. A month ago, they chased me down in a parking lot and shoved me against a store wall demanding I fix things immediately (this conflict started because I didn't support them enough when they were upset at another driver). When we got back to their place, they pushed me against the corner of a closet and I got a huge bruise on my ass. This bruise is what finally opened my eyes to how bad things are getting. They have thrown me on the bed by my neck, which they still deny. Out of anger at being denied so much (after the second incident of this) I showed them what they did to me by doing the same thing and now if I ever bring it up they say, "yeah, well you did the same thing to me". In the past month they have moved to another apartment. Now they live alone. We have not been able to go a week without a physical altercation. After the incident that resulted in a bruised ass, I confided in a friend about some of their behavior. I also recorded some of the moments they were yelling at me.
This past weekend we really fought. There was a fight earlier in the week, which included them refusing to let me leave, throwing my stuff on the ground and backing me into the fridge. I fell to the ground as well and was crawling away. They grabbed my shirt, pulling me back (choking me) and wrapped their arm around my neck to pull me off the ground. I got a scratch on my neck from this and some other bruises/scratches on my arm. Some days later we fought again and I don't remember what happened but I ended up telling them that I told my friend they have been pushing me around. This really upset them and they started saying I couldn't hang out with her the following day or go to her birthday party since now they couldn't go. I explained to them how hurtful and telling it was that they were more concerned about my friend knowing than how their actual behavior is affecting me (the person they say they love more than anyone). The next day they were super sweet and apologetic (they always are afterward, which I'm wondering if i'm addicted to this part), and wrote me a letter apologizing for lots of things. I read the letter Friday night. Saturday morning I woke up and snuggled them in bed for an hour before waking them up. I had my party to go to but was still trying to spend time with them by getting breakfast together. I had to wake them up for the timing to work out. Shortly after waking up they made a joke about how they didn't invite this one person out last night when they were with their friends (this is in reference to a previous conflict we had because at one point I wasn't allowed to hang out with their friends because I'm moody and I found out this other girl met up with them and they had been messaging through disappearing messages, so of course I had feelings about this). My response was, "well I hope you didn't secretly invite anyone else out" and they turned over and got pouty and all of a sudden I was the bad person and I was in a bad mood upon waking up. They ended up taking a shower and having a mental breakdown, screaming and what not. I was confused and angry. Really angry that they accused me of being in a bad mood when I had just been cuddling them for an hour trying to gently wake them. So I was unavailable to ease their emotional distress. At some point, they got out of the shower and I am over everything. I shoved them out of my way and they fell pretty hard and from there it's "look at what you did". They start acting completely different, talking in a small voice and saying things like "i'll do whatever you want, it's going to be okay." It was a trauma response. Seemed like they age regressed. And while I have sympathy and remorse, It made me angry that they were responding to me like this since I have been putting up with them shoving me and more for the past year. I am not sure what happened next but we kept fighting and then trying to de-escalate over and over again. At one point I made the remark, "yeah well I have plenty of recordings of you" and this is where things became very scary. They lost it and we fought fought over my phone. They were fighting me and trying to prevent me from leaving the room. They kept saying, "what kind of person would record another person" and forcing me to give them my phone passcode. At some point I bit them because they had their hands around me and they bit me back so hard I have a massive bruise because of it. They pulled out chunks of my hair. We both body slammed each other onto the bed/ground multiple times. I had my arm pressed against their neck at some point too when they were wrestling me. They choked me with their hands wrapped around my neck to the point I couldn't breathe. At some point they pinned me down and sat on me and refused to get up until they could access my phone again (it got locked because they were trying to get in it). I was defeated. After they erased all the evidence I had of them I decided I was going to look at their phone. They flipped their shit on me again and we started fighting more. At this point I was certain they were hiding something because of how violent they were being and not allowing me access their phone. They ended up slapping me after throwing me down onto the bathroom floor. Turns out they didn't want me to access their phone cuz they recorded me arguing with them after I shoved them that morning - literally the worst fight of my life began by them demanding i give them my phone and them making me feel like I was the worst for recording them when they did the same exact thing. They then went on to self-harm, and I insisted they go to the party with me becuase I was scared of what they would do to themselves.
I can count over 10 bruises/scratches from the past couple weeks of fighting. My partner has one bruise from when I shoved them Saturday morning. I do not want to minimize my violence towards them. I am just incredibly upset about how they are reacting about the bruise I gave them. When I bring up the marks they left on my body they usually respond with a sorry, but also with an "you bruise like a banana. And I'm not like one of those people who beats the shit out of their wives.", which i feel like dismisses my experience and pain.
OMG this was long, and it still doesn't convey everything. I am at work now and in shock. Been having panic attacks all day. I don't know what to do, and I am really confused about why I am staying in this relationship.
submitted by wholalune to abusesurvivors [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 22:38 Best_Acanthaceae5244 I (20f) got hit by mom after an argument last night and need advice

Hey guys! This is the first time I’ve ever written a post on Reddit I usually just like to come on here to read other peoples stories/advice, but my mom hit me last night and I wanted to see if anyone has any advice because I’m feeling quite lost on what to do and/or how to go about the situation from here.
I’m going to try be brief as possible with my backstory but there’s a lot of shit to cover and it’s important to mention a few of these things so you guys can understand the situation best. My parents used physical discipline when I was a young child but I do need to preface that from what I can tell it hasn’t affected me in my adult life/traumatized me; in fact my younger brother and I now tend to joke about it with each other and my parents (which maybe you guys will think is fucked up but I promise it hasn’t deeply affected me). I grew up in a country and at a time where this was still relatively acceptable but the reason for why my mom hit me last night and the situation behind it is (at least in my mind) completely different to the “discipline” I used to receive as a kid.
About 8 years ago my family immigrated to the USA and being 12 years old at the time it affected me drastically and as a result I ended up developing pretty severe depression and anxiety which led to a suicide attempt at the age of 15 and then me starting a journey to get my mental health back on track. Since then I’ve had my ups and downs but overall would say I’m doing a lot better mentally, I’ve worked through a lot of the trauma from the move and some other stuff that’s happened in the years since then (toxic relationships, an eating disordeself image issues, being sexually assaulted, betrayals from close friends, and more) but despite improving overall I do still experience extended time periods where I’m very depressed and anxious.
During the first few years of us moving to the states I hid a lot of mental health struggles from my family and was in a really dark place dealing with a lot on my own, simultaneously, my mom was experiencing her own mental health problems due to moving (she hasn’t ever openly admitted she has but knowing her and from my own struggles I’m pretty positive she has always had anxiety and that she went through a pretty severe depression due to the move). As a result, our relationship became extremely toxic and the way my mom treated me in those years could be likened to emotional/mental abuse. In more recent years we have repaired our relationship and it’s gotten a lot better since I’ve become an “adult”, we still have our moments every now and then but they’re significantly less and the dynamic we have is a lot more “normal” for a mother-daughter relationship.
I also need to admit that I vape and smoke weed, I’ve used them as coping mechanisms and I know that vaping especially is not healthy but that’s not the main point of this post just some important context. My parents know I vape and recently discovered I smoke weed (the weed they still haven’t mentioned most likely because they don’t want to cause an argument that could detrimentally affect our relationship). I mentioned the smoking /vaping because it was brought up in the argument that was had with her and I know that over the years it’s caused a big rift in my relationship with both my parents (especially the one I have with my mom).
So last night, I came home around 1 am from a Memorial Day party and when I got home my mom attempted to start an argument with me about the fact that I don’t make enough effort spend time with her and I will admit I could make more effort with her but it’s hard when we don’t see eye to eye on many things, I’m currently going through a pretty intense depressive episode, attempting to balance my personal schedule has been hectic lately, we don’t enjoy the same hobbies/interests, and she is/has always been quite openly judgmental towards me (my appearance/style, me being a “drug addict” in her opinion, my tattoos and piercings, the ways I choose to cope with my depression and anxiety bouts, etc). I tried to not entertain the argument but she just kept going at me and I got quite defensive with her and admitted that I feel like she loves me as her child but doesn’t like me as a person per say (this is something I’ve been feeling lately and was confirmed by some messages I saw she’s sent to my dad about me recently). I also mentioned during the argument some of the major issues I’ve had over the years with her and my parents. She then stormed off into her room and I know I’m in the wrong but as she closed the door I told her to “Fuck off”.
So sorry but a little bit more context: a big point of contention in my relationship with my parents over the years is their strictness/parenting style and I won’t go too deep into that explanation but anyone with immigrant parents and/or an international background themselves probably knows exactly what I’m talking about.
Anyways back to last night, after she heard me swear at her she proceeded to come back out her room, storm up to me and then repeatedly began slapping/hitting me across the face, my arms (I was trying to block her), and even in the back of the head as I tried to turn around and go into a bathroom to avoid her. This was broken up by my dad who heard the commotion. My parents have not used physical discipline on me or my brother since I was about 10 and he was 9 (I’m 20 now, about to be 21 in a few months), so I was in a state of shock last night after it happened and cried and had a long chat with my dad who was attempting to mediate the situation and support both me and my mom (I’m not mad at him for being there for her btw). My mom tried to apologize last night right after but I wanted to hear nothing of it and haven’t seen/spoken to her since.
So that brings me to this moment where I’m now hoping some random strangers from the internet have any insight/advice for me. I’m not injured by it just more so still in shock, my mom doesn’t/hasn’t ever “beat” me and I definitely don’t foresee this ever happening again. The worst part about this is somehow I feel bad for my mom, the part of me that’s become more empathetic over the years due to my own struggles recognized she must be going through something significant internally for her to do that but I simultaneously recognize that is not an a excuse and that this situation is in no way ok at all, so why does my brain make me feel bad/guilty? I don’t know where to go from here, what to do, and there’s a part of me that desperately just wants to ignore this and pretend it didn’t happen/wasn’t that bad for my own sanity.
Anyways, I have no idea if anyone will even read this and if someone does, I thank you so much for reading this long ass ramble of a post :) If anyones had a similar situation I’d love to hear your thoughts/advice. I still love my mom, please don’t think she’s an evil person I know that she’s not.
submitted by Best_Acanthaceae5244 to Advice [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 22:37 chuckhustmyre [TH] MIRROR IMAGE by Chuck Hustmyre

Sometimes when you look into the mirror, the mirror looks back.
William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.
submitted by chuckhustmyre to shortstories [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 21:54 Academic-Ad-770 A drunk guy bough my art for $150

Title says it all. Labeling it as "Positivity" might be funky, this is a really bizarre story. But it's a win, for me at least. Maybe for him too, who knows?
Storytime: so I exhibited at a gallery. For the opening day we had a vernissage, where the exhibiting artists attended. Some friends and family also showed up, and of course: open door.
I had several labeled pieces for sale on the wall, and in a whim decided I'd display my sketchbook too - why not - and put it on a table to flip through, just for the night. I did not plan to sell it, they're only so-so sketches, and the book is tiny.
Night passes, shaggy white dude comes in. Guy maybe in his 50s, or poor 40s. I spot him franticly walking up and down the exhibit, but not too disruptous despite filled rooms. He stared long at the walls and I jumped in to give assistance - trying to be a good salesperson. He pointed at my small sketchbook and spoke in the local language of where the exhibit was - which I don't speak. So in my broken language skills I tried to puzzle together what he wanted.
Now I don't know what the law is on selling something to someone who seems drunk, or under influence of something else, or maybe is just a lil' weird and that's his normal self. He wanted to buy it, a SINGLE page of my sketchbook. I can't just say "no", and turn him away, right? I did not think of a price, it was a very uneventful page with a man in yellow jacket, it was also inside a sketchbook with no tear-out pages and no frame. I pointed out all the other pieces I have on the walls. But he REALLY wanted that yellow man. In fact he refused to leave without it, and pulled out his wallet to hand me all the cash inside: $150.
I gotta say I've been to conventions and run online shop and all, I never had someone wanting to buy something of me that much, and I doubt he's a prior fan.
I excused myself and ran downstairs with the sketchbook to cut out the single page on the toilets (apparently the only flat surface I found away from the exhibit in a hurry) with an x-acto knife I got from the organizers. I handed him back the loose leaf, and he thanked me, went on to praise it. He even came back later to demand me to sign that leaf, which I completely did not think of (I don't sign every single page of my personal sketchbooks...).
Super strange a drawing of mine to receive so much...love? (or regret, when sober later, if ever)
submitted by Academic-Ad-770 to ArtistLounge [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 21:46 kylexyz001 23 [M4F] [Relationship] Ohio/Worldwide- Let's Be Each Other's Everything (Longest post ever?)

Brace yourselves, this is gonna be a long one.
Table of Contents
1…… The Main Goal
2…… What I’m Seeking
3…… Personality
4…… Interests
5…… Physical Characteristics (with pics)
6…… Expectations of You
7…… Living Situation
8…… Deal Breakers
9…… Closing Remarks
(1)
The Main Goal:
Well if you’re browsing this subreddit then much like me, you were alone this weekend and I’m sure you’d like to change that as much as me. I won’t lie, I am going through a rough part of my life right now. It’s difficult for me to find the energy for anything at the moment and I’m just really seeking affection in general, anything that will give me a push. I don’t want to be that person who brings everyone down but I could really use someone to talk to right now. I’d really like to find someone who’s similar to me so much to the point that we do everything together and talk about everything while not having to pretend to be interested. I want someone with whom we can mutually spew our emotions onto and have those feelings reciprocated. Not an emotional punching bag, but an emotional teddy bear to hug and cuddle until everything feels better as many times as we need. There’s people who I’m sure have told you the same, they’ll be there no matter how many times you need the support, no matter how many times the insecurities and bad thoughts come back but they don’t mean it. I will be the exception, I’m not so ignorant to think some nice words and tales of relating to you will magically forever heal whatever ails you then get mad when you seek the same support again. Mental ailments are rarely temporary and I don’t care about someone because they’re perfect, caring about someone means being there no matter how many times they need you to be. It doesn’t feel like a chore, it doesn’t get old, and it never will.
(2)
(2.a)
What I'm Seeking:
I will upfront let you know if I’m clicking better with someone else or if you’re the one, I’m not here to tread the sea of fish or keep my options open, I’m here for one singular person.
(2.b)
Relationship:
A relationship is difficult for me right now, it’s been nearly half a year since I got out of my last relationship and the reasons for it ending are partially responsible for how I’ve been feeling and why it’s so hard for me to seek the comfort I so desperately crave. I will tell you about it but for the sake of not treating the entirety of the internet as my therapist, it’ll be in private. I really need the comfort of intimacy and the warmth of someone who cares. I'm not going to feel better if I just sulk and don’t move on. This is my attempt to get better, I’ll admit I’m not great right now and I don’t expect you to be either. If we can help each other heal, then I’d be more than happy :) A relationship isn’t just being there for when someone’s at their best. Even if a relationship is hard at the moment, I do want a life partner and I don’t want to be alone. Things aren’t going to get easier without you so I don’t want to hesitate. I view my other as an equal, I don’t like categorizing us into specific roles. We take care of each other and treat each other how we like to be treated, whatever that is, it's as simple as that. I don't care if you're "successful" or not, living simple lives with our days filled with love is the ultimate measure of success to me.
(3)
Personality:
(3.a)
On the Surface:
As you can tell I can be rather… stoic but that’s largely due to my current stressors, I truthfully am goofy and fun loving but I just can’t find it in me right now. I want to return to that but without someone to light up my world it’s been difficult to just have fun and enjoy stuff. I’m definitely more introverted, you won’t catch me at any parties or really outside at all. I definitely prefer being home though the occasional outing is not out of the question and one day I’d like to travel to other countries because I think that kind of perspective is important.
(3.b)
The Core of My Being:
I like being a spectator to it all and if we bear witness to humanity burning or its miraculous recovery, I want to watch it with you. I enjoy watching humanity advance, less so when it devolves but I want to watch it to the end nonetheless. I’m both a realist and someone who lives with my head in the clouds dreaming of scenarios or worlds that don’t exist. I’m saying that I enjoy a good narrative and can suspend my disbelief to enjoy something but you won’t catch me refusing vaccines or ignoring blatant facts for the sake of some pseudo science or witch doctor’s remedy. I’m an atheist but I do not rule out existence after death, not because I’m agnostic but because due to the nature of potentially infinite time at some point after how many googol years with a googol amount of 0s after that, something’s bound to replicate your consciousness perfectly at some point. It’s actually a really fascinating topic I like talking about. If infinite time and infinite possibilities exist, does non existence exist? Though that’s an awfully existentially dreadful thought process considering the ramifications of infinite existence and infinite possibilities during said infinite existence. I would say I’m confidently left leaning and I don’t think I could truly get along with anyone right leaning, at least America’s definition of right leaning. Left and right seems to have just become; do people deserve to suffer or do they deserve to live good lives? Being political is not something I expected to become but how can you not be when crimes against human rights are being passed on a daily basis and at the end of the day, everything’s political. Oftentimes I imagine the perfect moment as relaxing with my significant other playing games or cuddling in a cold room under blankets.
I value that special someone above all of the existential thoughts, the bad of the world, the good of the world, they practically become my world. So many worries wash away when I’m with them. I don’t know if that’s the defense mechanism my brain created to not feel bad 24/7 but if it is, I’m currently without it.
(3.c)
Insecurities:
I talk of philosophy and politics here but really I spend most of my time just playing games, watching stuff, and trying to not be sleep deprived. I’m also nowhere near as well spoken, heck sometimes I feel like my speech is broken. I won’t claim to be something I’m not, I sit at home while I complain about the world doing nothing about it wishing I had someone here with me. I’m not noble nor do I really want to be, I have morals I uphold but much like most other hypocrites I acknowledge that my comfortable life is built on the suffering of others without doing anything about it. Why? My sleep problems? Am I depressed? Is that why I have no energy to do anything? Do I just think nothing I could do could help? I can’t nail it down myself, maybe it’s a mix of everything, maybe I’m just a bad person. I have always told myself that if I had wealth I would help people but if I get that kind of wealth will I just become a wealth hoarder who tries to justify my riches as something I earned rather than something given to me through incredibly lucky circumstances? If I do help people is it because I’m a good person or out of guilt? Will I die alone? I feel like I drive everyone away with my clinginess, I get paranoid often and need reassurance often. It’s something I want to work on, something I’ve been trying to work on. Hearing that someone cares about me just never gets old. I value self awareness even if it’s painful.
(3.d)
Socializing:
I’m definitely a socially anxious/awkward mess, especially around strangers. I do feel a large amount of anxiety in public, people can’t tell by looking at my face since I kind of go stone faced in an attempt to block everything out but yeah you’ll notice that if we go out in public. Growing up my pediatrician said I was probably autistic, never got a formal diagnosis so that’s just great. But yeah that explains why I can’t make eye contact with people, I kinda just stare at the ground and avoid their gaze at all costs. A lot of these social struggles go away to a great degree once I know you for a bit but yeah I apologize for how terrible I am at socializing at first. Don’t let my social struggles fool you though, I love cuddling and being close with my person.
(3.e)
Sexuality:
I am a heterosexual male, though I’m not very masculine like at all. I may even be a bit feminine sometimes. Not that I believe any activity or manner of acting belongs to a gender but I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m definitely super affectionate and love it when my partner is too. I am open to dating demi people but I do have a libido so I don't think asexual would work out.
(4)
Interests:
(4.a)
Video Games:
As stated before, I do spend a lot of my time playing video games. It’s been hard lately with me having no energy but I really do want to play more games and have a good time playing them with you! I primarily play on PC though I do have a switch. I’m primarily into platform fighters, roguelikes, open world, survival, and sandbox games. As for single player story games, I enjoy watching them through twitch or youtube but for the most part I don’t play them myself. I’d watch you play them though!
Here’s a list of games we can play:
-Minecraft (Java)
-Risk of Rain 2
-Gunfire Reborn
-Roboquest
-7 Days to Die
-Phasmophobia
-Rust
-Unturned
-Bloons TD 6
-Platform fighters: Super Smash Bros. Melee, Slap City, Multiversus, Flash Party, Fraymakers
Whatever you want to play I’ll give it a shot! I will say that League bores me to death but I’ll play it for you :) I try to avoid MMOs, not because I don’t like them but because of how addicted I can get to them. I enjoy learning games in-depth so MMOs can be a fast track to addiction.
I recently got Kerbal Space Program 2 and ehhh not really worth it right now but hopefully later it will be? I’m super excited for Tears of the Kingdom! In the far off future I’m excited for Rivals of Aether 2 which is a platform fighter releasing in 2024, let me know of your most anticipated releases and I’ll see if I could play them with you!
Also I never got into FPS games but I could totally see myself playing like CoD with you or Escape From Tarkov. Any FPS really, I’m down.
I am a fan of Pokemon but with how things have been lately I don’t know how long that will last. Pixelmon is a common Pokemon mod I play for Minecraft if you want to play that! Also if I say I want to play something with you I mean it but there are often times when no matter how much I want to I'm just drained and can do little more than lay in bed so please don't think I'm making an excuse.
(4.b)
Science:
I really enjoy keeping up with the latest advances in pretty much everything, it could be biology, technology, astronomy, anything! I love seeing progression and I love talking about it! Really I could go on and on about what I’m obsessing about that day. I particularly love technology, ask me for my laptop specs I dare you. When I was little I always wanted to be a scientist of any kind but then insomnia and fear of college stuff hit me like a truck aaaand that’s the end of that dream.
(4.c)
Anime:
You got me, I like anime but I’d like to think my tastes are benign.
Here’s some of my favorites I can list from the top of my head:
- To Your Eternity
- Vinland Saga
- Spice and Wolf
- Re:Zero
- Mob Psycho
- Dr. Stone
- Attack on Titan
- Spy x Family
- My Hero Academia
- Ranking of Kings
- Demon Slayer
Okay I can go on and on but I will say I don’t like pointless fan service and the spamming of cliche anime moments. I mostly enjoy action and anything well animated if it doesn’t have a potato story. Heck Demon Slayer could be my top 3 out of season 2’s animation alone. I don’t watch slice of life often or romance but I would with you!
(4.d)
Misc:
I’m not going to go on and on about the tiniest little things when the main ones are covered but I’ll watch pretty much any show with you and anything really. I like random youtube videos that explain some kind of lore or mystery, sometimes mini documentaries too.
As for food I looove sushi and I’m a sucker for fast food. Okay and candy, definitely candy.
I used to play tennis but haven’t really had the opportunity nor friends to play it with and I’m way too socially anxious to seek it out. Also I will say that when we move to something like discord I type waaaay more casually. I’m not going to expect long paragraphs back and forth like we’re writing English papers for each other, I do enjoy long conversations but seriously don’t worry about having to put the utmost effort into every response, I just like making good first impressions I guess.
(5)
(5.a)
My Physical Characteristics:
I’m 5’8 (172cm), 128 pounds (58kg), with curly brown hair and blue eyes. I like keeping my hair long in the winter and cutting it in the summer. I’m pretty slim in general so if you’re looking for someone large, that’s not me. I don’t work out but my work is pretty physical so at least I’m not totally inactive. I don’t have the urge to work out or gain muscle but I do want to maintain my slim figure so if I start losing control of that I’ll work out. I like to keep my face shaved because I don’t think I look good with a beard/mustache so if you’re into those I apologize. I have an average amount of body hair? I’d prefer to be completely shaved but it’s easy to lose motivation with that battle, if you prefer shaved then I’d have no problem complying. Anyways here’s what I look like: https://imgur.com/a/MZZgf2t
(5.b)
My Physical Preferences:
Having physical preferences makes me feel shallow, if I could make myself not have them I would but unfortunately that’s now how that works. I don’t care if you’re shorter or taller than me and I don’t care if you weigh more or less than me. All I ask is that you’re slim-average weight. I would never ask for someone to be something I’m not. I don’t care about tattoos or piercings.**(6)Expectations of You (Relationship Only):**I am not looking for someone “exciting” or someone to “keep me on my toes” I’m not looking for someone to cater to my every whim or anything like that. I don’t care if you’re “boring” or if you aren’t “successful”. I know it’s a common thing for people to not want a “boring” relationship and to seek something argumentative or something with constant challenges but I just want to be with you. During the exciting times, the boring times, and everything in-between, all of it will be great with you! Maybe we do argue sometimes or maybe there will be challenges but that will never be something I purposefully seek out and I don’t want that to be something you seek out either. I will not play tricks on you and I will not play mind games, I expect the same from you. We all have personal measures of success we may or may not have lived up to but what I care about most is our commitment to each other. If we have each other we can get through tough times, near the ends of our lives I want us to look back and feel that this life together was worth more than anything. That’s not saying I want us to be haphazard, I don’t want us to make poor decisions for the sake of yolo and I want us to always be rational, especially with each other. I want you to be someone I can trust to make decisions and weigh the options with a level head, I’ll try my best to live up to the same for you. Most of all I want empathy, understanding, someone to feel the utmost comfort and trust in.
(7)
Living Situation:
Currently my life is pretty relaxed, I work 3 times a week as a night shift stocker. I currently live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my roommate but we’re looking to move into someplace larger by the end of the year if everything works out. The internet is weirdly great for Ohio too like I have fiber and later this year we’re supposed to be getting dedicated fiber so that’s neat. I’m not attached to Ohio so the ultimate goal living location wise is probably moving to a country that won’t send you into a lifetime of dealing with the repercussions from one medical emergency.
(8)
Deal Breakers:
Might as well make this simple and make it a list.
- Anti-vaxxers
- Unironically believing astrology
- Right wingers
- Hard drugs (occasional 420 and alcohol is fine, may even join you)
- Wanting children, there was a time when I was younger when I wanted children but with the state of the word that’s a definite no and I feel like I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress. I’d love a stress free life with as much time with you as possible.
- Homophobic
- Transphobic
- Racist
- Super Religious
- Don’t be a bigot and don’t deny facts.
(9)
Closing Remarks:
Well you made it, I was thinking that finding someone I’d be willing to put a lifetime of effort into at least required this much effort. If I think of anything more I’ll update the post. Also about timezones, it really doesn’t matter where in the world you are. I don’t have a sleep schedule and I have most of the week off from work so it really doesn’t matter.
I request that in your response you do put effort into it, it doesn’t have to be anywhere near as long as this but at least enough so I know that you read this and enough about you so I know why you saw potential compatibility. I will seriously read all of it and respond the best I can. I do also request a pic included in your response (sfw please) or one soon after we start talking to prove identity, I’ll send identity proving pics too. As long as this post is up, you can send a reply!
submitted by kylexyz001 to MeetPeople [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 21:37 donalddafuq3301 Lucy helped me start to embrace my feminine side and I love it

Among the dozens of benefits that I’ve gotten from having done acid, embracing my feminine side is one of them!
I’m a straight 22M who grew up extremely homophobic. It’s just the way I was raised by the people I loved and I genuinely didn’t know any better. That went away when I was 18 and actually started to do some thinking for myself.
Then I dropped acid for the first time when I was 20 and I just started dancing around my room. I had NEVER danced before in my life (besides slow dances in HS) and I my mind was blown. I could not believe that I went so damn long living on this planet without doing it! It’s not one of my passions and I’m doing it everyday.
I just feel so sexy because of it and I’m happy that I can actually be me. I’ve thought about painting my nails and stuff now that I don’t care about how others will think of me. I do what I want because I’m secure with my sexuality and who I am as a person. I’m also able to acknowledge if another dude is attractive without wondering if it’s weird or not (lookin at you Sam Claflin and Joe Burrow).
I’ll bump Lady Gaga, Britney Spears or any other woman when I’m in the gym and that shit gets me goin. A good portion of my playlists are actually female dominated tbh.
I honestly think that most dudes have this side to them, but not everyone is comfortable expressing it sadly, but I’m glad I can now! :)
Can any other dudes/ women relate?
Side note: I didn’t proofread this so please excuse the many typos
submitted by donalddafuq3301 to LSD [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 21:12 MjolnirPants Jerry and the Goddesses: Part 33

Part 32 on HFY
"I think I found it," I said, knowing that Inanna and Sarisa could hear me. A second later, Sarisa popped into existence next to me. "Huh," she said.
The map she'd shared with the rest of us showed a single row of houses fronting the natural area, but I could clearly see the roof of a building, set far back from the homes amid the trees. A wide driveway with the single white line they used here to differentiate traffic lanes emerged from between two properties with a gate closed over it.
A sign hung from the gate, unreadable with all the bullet holes in it, but the operating hours at the bottom were unmistakable. This wasn't another home, but some sort of public-fronting establishment. "I definitely have no knowledge of this building. I think you've got it."
"Will you get the others?" I asked. Sarisa smiled and vanished again. A few minutes later, Gary and Kathy emerged from around a corner with Sarisa.
"Where's Ana?" Gary asked as they approached.
"She peed herself," I said.
"What?" Gary face scrunched up and I laughed. "You heard me."
"Well, how the hell did that happen?"
I shrugged. "The usual way, I guess. She's been telling me about getting tired and feeling confused on a repeating schedule and having to make an effort to return to her usual health. I suggested she try staying hydrated, because it sounded like dehydration that she was describing. So she started hydrating and..."
"And she forgot to go tinkle," Gary grinned. I winked at him, and then noticed Sarisa giving me a look. I responded with a "what do you expect?" gesture, and she sighed and shook her head. Sarisa never liked it when I told little white lies, even though it turns out she's told a few, herself.
Inanna emerged from the closest home, then. She was still in the same khakis and unbuttoned-most-of-the-way outfit she'd worn in, but she was dry now. "It wasn't pee," she announced.
Gary looked back and forth between us, eyebrows raised. "Okay...."
Kathy suddenly smirked and turned away. Well, damn, that was quick. I had to remember not to underestimate her.
"It doesn't matter," I said, "Look." I pointed to the gate. "That has to be the museum."
"Well, whatta we waitin fer?" Gary asked and walked over to check the padlock on the gate. He gave it a quick look, then took off his pack and dug around for a second, producing a pair of smallish bolt-cutters. He lined them up on the lock's hook and, with a quick jerk, brought the jaws down on it. The padlock fell to the ground with a clatter and Gary opened the gate wide enough to walk in.
We all followed him in through the gate and he pulled it shut and used a rock to wedge it in place. Up the long drive, we found a small parking lot and another shot-up sign. But this one had the words "museum" and "north" still readable in Armenian printed on it, so if we'd had any doubts during the walk up, they were gone.
Inanna simply magicked open the locked front door and we walked in. We split up, wandering the halls and searching the various rooms an exhibits. I moved down a hall with prints of medieval paintings of vikings and little placards describing the circumstances of the original painting as well as the events portrayed. The first three doors I found were bathrooms and a closet. The last entrance had no door in the frame, and it led to a room full of weapons.
A few actual viking-age and earlier weapons sat in glass cases in the middle, with reproductions bolted to the walls. Apparently, the museum was family-friendly, because foam versions of the weapons were stacked in an umbrella stand in one corner.
As I was returning to check another hall, I heard Kathy's voice "I think I got it!"
I followed the sound through a few rooms and found her and the others gathered around a small glass display case on a pedestal in the middle of a room whose walls were bedecked with paintings, both ancient and modern, of Norse Pagan religious subjects. Squeezing between Inanna and Gary, I saw it.
It was just like the last one, except the teeth were arranged slightly differently.
"So can we just, like, take it?" Kathy asked Sarisa. Sarisa shook her head, "Not without interfering with the magic. We have to share secrets again."
We all looked around at each other. This was actually getting more difficult, as we were a pretty tight group. We simply didn't have a lot of secrets. I broke the ice.
"When I was in my junior year, I stole three books from the college library, because they wouldn't let me check them out."
Kathy snickered. "I bet that's the worst thing you've ever done, too."
I turned towards her. "They were three volumes of a history of video games. The nineteen eighties through the two-thousands. I still have them in my closet." Kathy laughed and held out a hand for a fist bump. I gave it to her, unsure of why that would be fist-bump-worthy until she said "I figured they'd be dense academic works on some obscure aspect of history. Or maybe porn."
"The second volume covered erotic games," I admitted, "but there weren't a lot of titillating images, unless a screenshot from Custer's Last Stand is the sort of thing you find sexy."
I felt an easing in the tension of the room which I hadn't recognized until that moment. It had worked. Inanna spoke up next. "I'm keeping the baby," she said.
Everyone looked at her. Sarisa spoke first, "Sister, that is possibly the least-secret secret I've ever heard of. I don't think any of have had any doubt that you would keep the child you made with the man you love."
Inanna turned to me, "Did you know?" I shrugged. "I never really considered that you'd end the pregnancy. It would be very out of character for you."
"And you're okay with that?" she asked me? "Of course," I replied immediately. "Why wouldn't I be?"
She wrapped her arms around me and leaned her head against my chest. I smiled. This was nice, Inanna showing affection without being all grabby.
"I'm going to have to think about it for a minute, then."
Gary took a deep breath. His face clouded for a moment, and then he cleared his throat.
"I killed two civilian boys in Rukha, in Afghanistan back in 2001 to stop them from alerting Taliban in the region. We were moving through some fields, coming down into the valley from the north. We needed to get to a high point that sort of split the valley, to call in some JDAMs on a couple Taliban positions down in the valley. We didn't see the boys at first, they were hiding in some bushes or something. But as we got close, they broke cover and ran. I didn't even hesitate. I knew if they made it into town or to someone with a phone, the locals would fill the streets to gawk and the Taliban would abandon their positions.
"I saw them running, had just enough time to recognize the threat, and then I shot them both in the back. Neither one was armed. Neither one was older than about twelve." His voice was rough and raw. It was obvious he was digging deep for this.
"I still sometimes have nightmares about it," he added, and then he closed his mouth and stared at the ground. I felt the tension ease a bit more.
Kathy put her hand on his shoulder and he reached up to pat it. "I abandoned my best friend throughout middle school, Maryann, because she wasn't popular enough to suit me when we got to high school," she said.
"When we started as freshmen, we both made a bunch of new friends. She had a harder time of it, just because she wasn't as sociable as I was, but she was my friend, so she kinda tagged along as we became the 'in-group'. But some of the other girls didn't like her. Maryann listened to different music than most of us, and liked different actors and dressed different. It was super petty, I know, but at the time, those things seemed important." She laughed ruefully, "Like listening to Shinedown somehow made her a bad person. Anyways, it got worse over our freshman year. When we started sophomore year, I decided to cut her loose. So I told my mom a boy was harassing me, and she changed my number. A couple of the other girls did the same. We gave each other our new numbers, but not Maryann."
Kathy sniffed and I could see moisture in her eyes.
"She just seemed so confused at first. None of us were willing to just tell her that we didn't want to be friends, so we made excuses. I told her my phone was turned off, and said that I had plans every time she wanted to hang out. When she finally figured it out, she didn't even get angry. She just, like, vanished. She stopped coming to school, and stopped eating at the diner where we always used to get burgers after school.
"After a couple of months, I started to get worried about her. So I went to her house and knocked on the door. Her mom answered and told me that Maryann didn't want to talk to me and that I should go. And that was the last I ever heard from her."
Sarisa put her arm around Kathy's shoulder and squeezed her. "It's not too late," she said, then Kathy turned into the hug and they embraced. I heard Kathy take a few shuddering breaths, and then she pulled back. "I know. And I plan to go to her, as soon as this is done. I won't take no for an answer, this time."
The tension eased further. Only the goddesses remained. Inanna had, predictably enough, managed to sneak a hand down my pants while Gary was talking, but her fondling was subdued, more of an idle fidgeting than her usual concerted attempts to arouse me. The thrill of being touched by a goddess remained, however, which is why I was keeping my mouth shut.
Sarisa broke the silence. "I slept with Astoram, once."
"What?" I choked out in unison with Inanna. Inanna jerked her hand free and spun to face Sarisa.
"I thought you said that night with Jerry was your first time."
"It was... Listen, it wasn't actually me who slept with him, but an avatar of mine who lived in my temple in Mohenjo-daro. I was experiencing everything she did, but I wasn't in control of her actions. The truth is, I wasn't even paying her much attention, and she had long since grown into her own being, making choices that sometimes surprised me. Astoram came to her in a manifestation. He pretended to be distraught after Loki had foiled one of his schemes, and he seemed to think the avatar was me in a manifestation. He played at humility, confessed that he was always jealous of how smart I am and just generally seemed remorseful, and possibly not such a bad god, once you got past his public facade.
"The avatar had been quite lonely, and had grown quite human, having lived among them for so long. So she was moved by his words and..."
"And threw him a pity fuck," Inanna said.
Sarissa nodded, "And she threw him a pity fuck, yes. Of course, that was his plan, all along. He impregnated her. He was so livid when he found out she wasn't me that I had to have Krast pin him down until he swore not to hurt the avatar. Even then, I was still so concerned for her safety that I sent her to Scandinavia to bear her son in peace."
"The avatar, that was Aelfrida?" Inanna asked. Sarisa nodded, and Inanna turned to me. "Jerry, now you three are the only people alive who knows the name of Grendel's mother."
"The baby was Grendel?" I asked, surprised. Sarisa nodded again. "Yes, and he was a lovely creature for a very long time, until that drunkard, Hrothgar built his little party shack and drove the poor thing insane with all the noise." She shook her head sadly.
The tension eased more. It was barely there. All eyes were on Inanna now. She gave us all an askance look, as if she didn't like being the center of attention.
Yeah, right.
After a moment's silence, she turned back to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She leaned her head against my chest again and spoke, not looking at anyone.
"I've thought a lot about what we're doing and what it might entail, from a practical perspective. I've communed with Ixy on it, as well, as he's the oldest of all of us. As best I can guess, the actual method which we're trying to learn is not to kill Astoram, or even to put him back to sleep. It's to cut off his manifestation from his divinity. It would open his domain for grabs by the rest of us. I'm sure Ixy plans to seize as much of it as he can, the moment we succeed.
"I can't think of any other method of defeating him that's even remotely possible. Sarisa, you know we've discussed this." Sarisa nodded. I knew, too. I'd heard them talking about it a few times, and had a general idea of their logic. It was complex and sometimes irrational, but if you squinted just right, it sort of made sense.
The gods' divinity wasn't who they were, but a natural product of living beings interacting with the universe and each other, that occasionally grew into something so coherent and powerful that it took on a life of its own. As best I understood, Ixy was the first god. He came into being when human ancestors began really differentiating themselves from the other animals with their cleverness, a sort of reflexive kickback against said cleverness. Every time an animal did anything, a trickle of energy was added to Ixy's domain, but every time an especially smart animal followed its instincts, he got a huge jolt of power.
Eventually, all that energy coalesced into the nightmarish entity that Ixy can be if you don't know him. Because those ancestors were smart and they contributed so much, Ixy developed a literal mind of his own. A simple mind, about as intelligent as your typical chimpanzee, but with the social bonds of a dog.
As time passed and humanity evolved into its modern state, that growing intelligence that it brought flowed towards Ixy. But Ixy didn't want it. Ixy liked being Ixy. So he sequestered these little disembodied minds off from the rest of himself. And things continued like that for a very long time.
But humanity was only just beginning to get clever. As tribes and clans took hold, complex social behaviors developed, and those behaviors differentiated themselves from the primal energy that defined Ixy. One by one, these energies, these divinities, grew dense enough to power a god on their own. The minds that Ixy had sequestered were not comatose or unaware, and they saw this happening. Eventually, one of them escaped and tied itself to a divinity. They became the first generation of the gods. Hunting, bloodlust, simple lust, hunger, loneliness. Base concepts that all of humanity knew.
This first generation eventually experienced the same fate as Ixy, only without the entirety of the animal kingdom feeding them a steady drip of power, they grew weak as the energies split apart. To offset this, they emanated; breaking off parts of their own minds to take command over the diverging and clumping divinities that had once been entirely theirs. As these emanations seized their own divinities, they became the second generation of gods. Sarisa and Inanna were both second generation gods. The second generation was supposed to serve the first, but after some time, they rebelled.
The first generation was gone; slain somehow in a great war that had been wiped from the minds of all survivors, even the gods themselves. Only Astoram remained of their number. Sarisa and Inanna had discussed how that might have happened, even before Astoram's awakening, and the consensus they had established was that one or more of their 'sibling' gods had learned how to separate a god from their divinity.
Once that was done, then there would be little left but the mind, unless said god had been manifesting. In that case, they would survive not as a disembodied mind, but in whatever form they had taken. And that was what we planned to do to Astoram. What it wasn't, however, was a secret. I looked down at Inanna, who glanced up and caught my eye. When she spoke, I knew she was speaking to me.
"If we succeed. If we find a way to strip Astoram from his divinity, then after we've defeated him, I want to be stripped from my own. I want to live whatever remaining life I have in this body with you, Jerry."
Holy fucking shit.
----
As a reminder, this whole story is available at JerryandtheGoddesses.
submitted by MjolnirPants to HFY [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 21:02 Mindless-Grass-7040 How do I guide a wandering parent in a loving, uncritical, Christ-like way?

I have recently begun a drastic change in my faith. I went from listening to Joyce Meyer to pastors like John piper and Francis Chan, and JMac. The word is held in a completely different regard in my life now, and I’m constantly in It. Thank God for it! I’ve come to taste the true glory, power, sovereignty, love, graciousness and wrath of our God. I take this life much more serious now and everything I do in it. I have been blessed with a completely new lens. With this comes great concern for the people around me, especially my family. And the one who raised me in the faith, my Mom, I now feel my in my spirit is slowly being deceived. She has fell in love with a man she’s been dating for five years. She claims he’s spiritually sound, Christian and that they are always reading the word. She says she is still grounded spiritually, yet I believe he’s becoming an idol and I’m concerned. She no longer goes to church consistently on Sunday, she’ll make some excuse. She no longer holds on to commitments to me or my grandma. She’s always doing everything for him, even letting him use her car. She is stressed out all the time and the only time she’s really really happy is when he comes around just to then go in her room, close the door, and block the world out. I tried to put her on to John piper and much scripture. I’ve tried mentioning that we need to attend a different church, because our new pastor is now a woman, but once again, the lack of seriousness for the word leads her to make an excuse. Simply put, I’m concerned, and I’ve been in constant prayer about this. I must remember that I have a log in my own eye and she only has a speck in hers. I do not wanna come to her in a critical spirit. Guidance is much needed
submitted by Mindless-Grass-7040 to TrueChristian [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 20:57 OliverTwisteds Feeling anxious about school next year and need some advice

I’d say i’m a well passing for being pre everything and get gendered properly by friends and strangers. My parents are very strange about me being trans though my mom still miss genders me a lot after me being out to her for a while. My dad is a bit more excuse able because i only recently talked to him about my gender identity and haven’t talked to him properly about pronouns. So i’ve been aloud to use the gender neutral bathroom in my school but i’m anxious about locker rooms. ( i’m not out to my school they just know i have anxiety attacks in public restrooms and changing rooms) Should i ask my mom to talk to my school about this or just deal with it? (sorry if this is basically just me rambling i’m just very anxious right now)
submitted by OliverTwisteds to ftm [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 20:55 shaynawill I ruined my new-ish relationship by accidentally getting emotionally day-drunk and starting a fight with him

Let me preface this by saying that while I know this is no excuse, I am under a fair amount of stress due to a number of things happening around me currently. I will go into more detail:
I (F34) split with my ex of 12 years last July. It was not at all amicable and it was a nightmare up until about a month ago. A few months after the split, a friend of mine from high school (M36) reached out about a job that I had information on. We had always had a little crush on each other and when he asked about my ex, I was happy to inform him that we were no longer seeing each other. He then goes on to tell me that he had also split from his ex in April of last year. It took almost no time for us to start dating and I pretty instantly fell in love with him.
Since we started dating, it has been mostly joyous and just a handful instances where things went off the rails. There are only a few red flags about him outside of the fact that he is "job-jumper" which is alarming to me for no other reason than it scares me that he is unable to commit to anything long term. Otherwise, he still manages to buy me cute-sy gifts and dinner and we split date nights 50/50 most of the time. He has never asked to borrow money from me and rarely complains about being broke so essentially, his finances are not my concern. He has recently met ALL of my best friends and everyone immediately took him under their wing which was shocking considering that we have all been friends for a very long time and normally, new people don't fair well with our trash-talking tough-love dynamic, be he did. Beyond that, they have been ecstatic about me being with someone that makes me so happy and who takes such good care of me emotionally.
I am still working out how to undo toxic relationship habits that I acquired while being with my ex. I was always on edge with him because we argued A LOT. He was very difficult to manage and I had a series of defense mechanisms that I had to create in order to deal with the verbal and emotional abuse I endured over the last 12 years. I am working VERY hard on communicating effectively and expressing myself in a reasonable manner but I can be a little argumentative and/or defensive or combative if I feel attacked, I am sensitive and occasionally when I drink too much (which I only do on weekends, never during the week and I rarely stress-drink), I get emotional or confrontational which we will circle back on shortly.
Currently, I am dealing with a massive plumbing problem at my house. For a week, my bedroom carpet has a leak coming from under the carpet and carpet pad and it was decided that it's actually coming up from UNDER the concrete slab. My landlord lives in another state and with the Holiday weekend being long, it's more or less turned into moldy, gross, sopping wet, standing water until it can be addressed tomorrow. I am concerned that my landlord will not be able to afford this problem which could result in my rent increasing or him selling the house (I do not have a lease because he is a family friend. I have lived in this house for 8 years).
I have been working very hard at a new job that I do not have previous experience in and although I am getting the hang out of it, it requires long hours, a lot of patience and a lot of driving. It is regularly weighing on me which has also added to my stress.
Lastly, it was brought to my attention last week that the ex has a new girlfriend. And though I was sure that this did not at all bother me, I'm starting to accept that maybe it does hurt me more than I truly thought it would. To boot, the tale is that she "has money." In what capacity, I do not know but that is the word on the street. I left him due to a severe drinking problem he had developed during COVID and since then, he has lost most of his friends, his job, he has no money, and is currently living with his mother. So I have really struggled with understanding how he managed to snag a girl amidst all of those MASSIVE red flags but he has, I guess. I was sure that I had MORE than moved on from caring about what direction his lifestyle takes him but I have to admit that it does sting, surprisingly.
ALL OF THAT SAID: I worked late Friday and went to bed early. My best friend came over Saturday morning while the first plumber was there giving me terrible news but since we were off for the next 3 days, she brought some tequila (my fav) and we had a drink while he was finishing up. Around that time, my boyfriend shows up for our weekend escapades. All was right in my world.
BFF leaves an hour or so later to run a few errands, boyfriend and I run to grab a bite to eat, we all circle back mid-day and regroup at my house. Boyfriend goes in my room to lay down for a short nap and BFF and I sit on my patio listening to music taking shots and having a good time. We start going down an emotional path talking about her current relationship situation, the struggles of dating in your mid-30's, her ex, my ex, etc. Before too long, I'm SOBBING uncontrollably about how disappointed I am in my ex for how he has fucked his life up and how shitty I am that I wasted so many good years of my 20's on him and yada yada. The tequila definitely got away from me because I remember only snippets of the argument that ensued shortly after.
Boyfriend wakes up from his nap and I vaguely remember him either remarking on or acting put off by sob-fest and we proceed to get into a pretty nasty argument about my ex and his ex. He claims that I went on a "tirade" about his ex even though I barely know anything about her. Definitely not enough to go on a "tirade," that's for sure. He ends up packing up his belongings, his dog, his dog's bed, some things he keeps at my house and walks out the door. I go after him and just kind of blankly stare while he loads up his car because I'm just shocked that he's actually leaving. Like I said, I've been working very hard on communicating better and he knows this so even though I know I was wrong for drinking too much and starting an argument, we normally communicate in a very healthy manner so the fact that he was so willing to just leave my house and cancel all the plans for the weekend was pretty startling. He did not want to talk to me at all Saturday night so I spent hours tossing and turning feeling TERRIBLE which, I should have.
Sunday I wake up early hoping to have gotten a text or something from him at some point in the night which I didn't. I continue with "our" plans as scheduled, just solo and sulking all damn day sick with guilt and shame. I couldn't enjoy my friends or the pool or the fun being had because all I could do was obsess over my phone hoping he would call or text. Nothing all day Sunday. By Sunday night, I had left the pool party with my friends and went to my parents house and finally got the balls to reach out to him. Of course, I profusely apologize but his responses were short, stern and uninterested in anything I had to say. Again, I hear nothing from him all day yesterday.
Today, I'm stuck at work still with the same sick feeling I carried with me all weekend. I texted him and just kind of said "I assume this means that we're done and this is over or are you still deciding? I love you and again, I am SO sorry." He tells me he was sick yesterday (which also made me sad because he knows I like taking care of him) and that he also just still didn't know what to say to me. He eventually says "it would be different if this was the first time, but it's not." Which, he's neither right nor wrong about that. We do quite a bit of going out and/or partying on weekends together and I can only recall one other instance where we had an alcohol-fueled argument and that was in October last year during a Halloween party. Apparently he decided when that occurred that this was not something he was willing to tolerate often or ever again. Which, I respect but at the same time, it feels like a pretty big ask that NO FIGHTS EVER are allowed to happen, drunk or not.
Something I told my friends is that while I don't want him to feel taken advantage of or emotionally abused by me, it's frustrating because I have heard HORROR STORIES from him about what he put up with in past relationships. Each one way worse than the last, and all of them INSANELY worse than what happened this weekend. For instance, he had numerous girlfriends cheat on him that he took back, he had one girl get pregnant with someone else's baby and he considered staying with her, he had one girl date him, use him for money, and then when her boyfriend got out of prison, she immediately dumped him, and most recently, the ONE THING I know about his last ex is that she very nearly got him to sign the deed to a house that she allowed him to think would be his and hers together only to find out the day before closing that it was actually for her and HER MOM instead.
But apparently stress-induced day drunk fighting is where he draws the line, I guess? Maybe he has created a new standard for himself of what he's willing to tolerate moving forward and again, I definitely respect that but I just can't stop thinking about how small this is in comparison to what we have BOTH dealt with in the past and how we have been so proud creating a judgment-free, well-balanced, healthy relationship.
I feel so stupid and lost and irritated with myself. I just don't know what to do. It feels like his mind is made up and I'm not going to pathetically beg him to do anything he doesn't want to do. I'm just so crushed.
submitted by shaynawill to RelationshipAdviceNow [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 20:50 Mindless-Grass-7040 How do I guide a parent who is wandering in a non-critical, Christ-like way?

I am new to reformed theology and absolutely love it and it’s seriousness for Gods word. I have recently begun a drastic change in my faith. I went from listening to Joyce Meyer to pastors like John Piper and Francis Chan, and JMac. Scripture is 1000 times more important and serious in my life now than ever. I’ve come to taste the true glory, power, sovereignty, love, graciousness and wrath of our God. I take this life much more serious now and everything I do in it. I have been blessed with a completely new lens. With this comes great concern for the people around me, especially my family. And the one who raised me in the faith, my Mom, I now feel my in my spirit is slowly being deceived. She has fell in love with a man she’s been dating for five years. She claims he’s spiritually sound, Christian and that they are always reading the word. She says she is still grounded spiritually, yet I believe he’s becoming an idol and I’m concerned. She no longer goes to church consistently on Sunday, she’ll make some excuse. She no longer holds on to commitments to me or my grandma. She’s always doing everything for him, even letting him use her car. She is stressed out all the time and the only time she’s really really happy is when he comes around just to then go in her room, close the door, and block the world out. I tried to put her on to John piper and much scripture. I’ve tried mentioning that we need to attend a different church, because our new pastor is now a woman, but once again, the lack of seriousness for the word leads her to make an excuse. Simply put, I’m concerned, and I’ve been in constant prayer about this. I must remember that I have a log in my own eye and she only has a speck in hers. I do not wanna come to her in a critical spirit. Guidance is much needed
submitted by Mindless-Grass-7040 to Reformed [link] [comments]


2023.05.30 20:21 BeginningHour8206 WIBTA for calling out my ‘friend?’

Apologies if my post is wrong at all.
Background info: me {F18} and My friend {F17} have been friends for about 7/8 years. We used to be really close up until about a year and a half ago where we drifted. Her home life isn’t bad, but it’s not the best and she always comes to my family and guilt trips them to help her eg ‘can I come round because I’ve broken up with my girlfriend and I’m heartbroken and we are never getting back together’ etc. She has also always been persistent in the fact that if you tell her no you cannot come round as we are busy/ having a family day, she will go off with a ‘Please please please please please please’ ‘I’ll do this and that for you’.
Basically the long story short of it is that i’m getting fed up now. She’s going round my aunts house every single week {more than me, her own niece} for dinner and choosing the most expensive things from the takeaway menus, begging and forcing my mum to let her come round even when I’ve expressed that I’m busy. One time when we were all at my aunts house i made a joke about her tiktok and she was going along with it then suddenly shouted out {infront of lots of my family and in childrens earshot} that me and my boyfriend are intimate in the family room which is not true at all {she used different wording which was worse and totally unsuitable infront of children, let alone in MY families home where she was a guest}. And she also guilt trips my aunt with ‘oh I haven’t really got much money have you got a spare vape I can have’ when she knows my aunt buys lots of spare ones for herself and keeps them in her car. AND to top it off my mum just told me that my friend went behind my mums back and said ‘I can’t believe I wasn’t invited on the holiday, I mean she’s allowing my sisters friend to go and I haven’t been invited’. The ENTITLEMENT oh my. I’m not even on the holiday, and she expects to be invited?!?!?
So would I be the arsehole to confront her on these things?
Side note: I’ve had a word with her before about various things and just got ‘sorry sorry sorry’ and she made excuses saying she won’t do it again but she doesn’t change. I’ve tried to cut her off but it’s not so easy and very awkward when she calls my mum to ask to come round instead. And my family have also tried to give her relationship advice but she ignores it every single time, then comes crying when the relationship breaks down again. PS IM NOT EVEN ON THAT HOLIDAY THAT SHE FELT ENTITLED TO BE INVITED TO!!!!!
Sorry for the long post. TLDR: friend is overstepping boundaries within my family majorly, I’ve attempted to cut her off but I can’t as it’s awkward within my family. WIBTA to call her out/ confront her?
submitted by BeginningHour8206 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]