Old juicy couture bags
Cordiality does not mean a debate is good.
2023.06.07 18:27 Theringofice Cordiality does not mean a debate is good.
This is referring mainly to the Cenk debate but also in general. I'm surprised by the number of people that equate these two. Just because two people aren't yelling at each other doesn't mean it was productive or good. I agree that the talk on Biden was good - it truly was a just a difference in opinion and expressing that.
The Rittenhouse bit was pure bad faith (or maybe blinded by ideology). Everything from calling driving 20 minutes the old "crossing state lines" to saying the plastic bag was the primary impetus for the first shooting to (and most moronically) acting like getting domed by a skateboard wouldn't cause serious bodily harm or even death.
I'd be interested to see them talk again but hopefully about policy stuff since that's where he was reasonable. It seems like when it gets to culture stuff he turns into the Alex Jones of the left though.
submitted by Theringofice to Destiny [link] [comments]
The Rittenhouse bit was pure bad faith (or maybe blinded by ideology). Everything from calling driving 20 minutes the old "crossing state lines" to saying the plastic bag was the primary impetus for the first shooting to (and most moronically) acting like getting domed by a skateboard wouldn't cause serious bodily harm or even death.
I'd be interested to see them talk again but hopefully about policy stuff since that's where he was reasonable. It seems like when it gets to culture stuff he turns into the Alex Jones of the left though.
2023.06.07 18:26 Wonderful-Hospital38 What can I do?
 | I included pictures to give you all a view on how my skin looks like. submitted by Wonderful-Hospital38 to Skincare_Addiction [link] [comments] First of all, I absolutely hate how old I look due to my big bags/wrinkles underneath my eyes, smile lines and the lines on my forehead. Then, the texture of my skin. Awful. Is there ANYTHING I can do? I genuinely hate how old I look in my face... Some stuff about me (which may or may not contribute to my skin.) Lifestyle: • I do vape. I smoke weed occasionally. • I occasionally drink a pepsi zero but I like to stick to sparkling water with a flavor. • I workout 4 days per week (weight-lifting: facial expressions) • I barely drink (only on NYE and when it's my birthday.) Skincare: • I use Korean skincare products - Beauty of Joseon cleansing balm - NEEDLY micelair water - Beauty of Joseon ginseng essence water - Beauty of Joseon serum • I apply a sunscreen (cushion based) before I go out • Once a week I exfoliate my skin |
2023.06.07 18:18 AdonisLuxuryResort Can I just say parenthood is BS
I swear I dream of a break an ungodly amount. I crave it.
Then, my in laws take my child for a couple days. My husband is at work. I truly have time for myself.
AND I MISS MY LITTLE TURDLER.
He woke up literally throwing hands and screaming. Clearly, a bad day to be 18 months old. I’m glad I don’t have to be the one fighting everything today (because I BET everything gonna be a battle todaaaay, poor granny.) I’m happy to have a break.. BUT AT THE SAME TIME I’M THINKING “aw I wish my baby was here” - LIKE STOP IT! GO SIT ON YOUR ASS WITH A BAG OF CHIPS AND A SODYPOP AND ENJOY YOURSELF!
submitted by AdonisLuxuryResort to SAHP [link] [comments]
Then, my in laws take my child for a couple days. My husband is at work. I truly have time for myself.
AND I MISS MY LITTLE TURDLER.
He woke up literally throwing hands and screaming. Clearly, a bad day to be 18 months old. I’m glad I don’t have to be the one fighting everything today (because I BET everything gonna be a battle todaaaay, poor granny.) I’m happy to have a break.. BUT AT THE SAME TIME I’M THINKING “aw I wish my baby was here” - LIKE STOP IT! GO SIT ON YOUR ASS WITH A BAG OF CHIPS AND A SODYPOP AND ENJOY YOURSELF!
2023.06.07 18:16 TarbusCavarus [RF] Uncle Jim
Prologue
As the end of autumn approached, the chill of morning and evening began to cut through like a hunting knife. Through the tanker's windshield, the driver could see a woman wearing a knitted scarf and a blanket on her shoulders. She had sat down in the middle of the road and was howling long and heart-wrenching like a lament. Passers-by looked at her with horror, surprise, or contempt. When a lady in a fur coat approached her to inquire, the unfortunate woman began to roll on the ground, thrashing about like a rolling log heading down the valley, and screaming with even greater force and deeper sorrow, so loud that it could be heard all the way to the shire, after which she stopped in a sob, crying quietly like the water of a lowland spring. She was Uncle Jim's eldest daughter.
Part I
Mr. and Mrs. Axelton were two retirees with charitable souls. They had the sign of charity burning on the soles of their dusty, second-hand shoes, laced up with shoelaces they got from the thrift store. They brought a bag of beans for the dog, bananas for the children, bread, bologna, and mustard for the homeless - lost souls from the outskirts of the city. They entered the basement of an abandoned building through labyrinthine paths surrounded by plywood and wrought iron fences. The building was marked with a red dot.
Around an improvised brick stove, illegally connected to the neighbourhood’s electricity network, sat Uncle Jim, Melissa, the children, and Baxter, opening cans of food received from a philanthropic organization. Baxter was a small mongrel with blue-blooded hunting dog lineage, who always hovered around Jim and helped him beg. Mrs. Axelton felt more compassion for the dog than for the family without a penny.
Jim spent his days in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral with Googie Gums, Mr. Blondey, Fane Fairfax, and Tane Cuthbert. They lived as best they could. On the drier days, they humbly lined up behind the priests, praying for them to give them something from the charity box. In the evenings, they opened a cheap two-litter bottle of beer, played backgammon, talked about the fate of the country, football, and the apocalypse.
One spring afternoon, a benevolent gentleman took Jim aside, treated him royally, and offered him an impossible-to-refuse deal. He handed him two thousand five hundred lei in cash, for which all he had to do was sign some blank documents. At that time, it was a good sum of money. Jim thought that luck had fallen upon him like a huge wheel of cheese, so he immediately accepted, without hesitation. With the money, he bought new clothes for Melissa, notebooks for the children, food, and drink in abundance.
At the beginning of the summer, a conflict erupted with Mr. Axelton over such an absurd issue that it would make customers of the "Tancredi Kingsley Jr." brewery doubt the honesty of the storyteller. Mrs. Axelton, a sensitive and volunteer person, was involved in a campaign to save stray dogs who, without the dedication of people like her, would have ended up in miserable shelters on the outskirts of the city. Those who were up for adoption were taken off the streets, washed, vaccinated, and sent to their new owners.
Jane, a neighbour from the ghetto, had told Jim one evening while gossiping on the roadside that significant profits could be made from selling animals. Therefore, seeing the strange pensioner walking through the neighbourhood week after week taking care of stray dogs, the idea arose in his mind that these actions could only have mercantile and hidden purposes, from which he was unfairly excluded from sharing the profits.
Despite Axelton's explanation, treating him to a sausage roll and a coffee from the vending machine, Jim remained unchanged in his opinions, considering his neighbour guilty of greed. When he saw him coming out of the building or on his way to the grocery store, he shouted at him from the other side of the street to demand an explanation and followed him grumpily like an unhappy landlord who had not been paid rent for a long time. He had become a real nuisance on the head of our unfortunate citizen, who now found himself forced to make unimaginable detours from the exit of the building to the bus station just to avoid the annoying neighbour with whom he did not want to continue the confrontation.
Part II
Fortunately, an unexpected twist of fate spared Mr. Axelton from a steep climb up the confrontation ladder when Jim was unexpectedly summoned to the station by a local police officer. It turns out he had signed a mortgage without any collateral which he had no chance of repaying in this lifetime. He was charged with fraud and sent to the White Gate prison for five years. No one visited him. When he was released, after two and a half years of serving, he limped and had only a few teeth left in his mouth. It was as if he had aged ten years.
Meanwhile, Melissa had coupled up with Fane and had a child with him. They moved together to the Hopeless Heights, a neighbourhood built specifically for needy people, and Jim's children were sent to an orphanage. Baxter was taken in by a kind-hearted nobleman who loved animals and owned a seafood restaurant, entrusting him to a mute maid who walked him around the blocks three times a day. Sometimes, on summer days, dressed in a bathrobe and a pair of flip-flops, Sir. Hatchet Jenkins would come out with two other small dogs as big as cats who walked swaying like wind-up toys. He walked the streets like a traveling circus performer, but if anyone dared to mock him, he became so furious that he turned into a steam boiler, blowing heat through his nostrils and obscenities at his enemy, threatening to punch them, showing them the cane he would strike his heels with.
Uncle Jim first moved in front of St. Nicholas Church, where Father Murphy O'Malley served. He was a small man, always carrying a leather briefcase like a spy movie security agent, had a carefully groomed moustache, a gold watch and ring, and patent leather shoes. Everyone said he had the gift. He came to church in a luxury car. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a multitude of beggars, some of whom had come from neighbouring quarters, trying to kiss his hand and ask for coins. Jim didn't last long there, the competition was too high.
Lately, he had been experiencing more frequent headaches. He walked with a cane down the narrow street, swaying in the wind like a turnip pulled from the ground. I didn't think he would last much longer, but Uncle Jim had a survival instinct that most mortals lack. He stopped first at Mr. Axelton's, with whom he had made amends in the meantime, and asked for a pair of boots for the snowy weather and a packet of aspirin for his headache. He found an old fur hat with ears that had been thrown away and drank a cup of mulled wine, given as charity for the souls of the dead. Then, he found shelter in a cave under the ruins of an abandoned manor.
In the morning, he emerged from the ground like a contemporary Lazarus and sat next to the all-night convenience store near the Agriculture Department. On his way out, the kindest customers would always leave him something: a roll, a coin with the king's face on it, half a salami stick, a pair of socks, a cube of melted cheese, or a bottle of curdled milk. He had a yellow plastic bag in which he loaded all of his products. In the evening, when he returned to his lair, it was always full of wonders.
Epilogue
When spring arrived, Jim began to bloom like snowdrops. His teeth grew anew, made of copper, his hair turned green like grass, his eyes started to distinguish details with the precision of an eagle, his skin became as smooth as that of young boys, his arms became steel, his forehead raised, his thoughts became clear, and his vision became as clear as that of great wise men. It was rumoured that he was making so much money that he could move to a hotel. The last time I saw him was on a foggy April morning. He got into a taxi and disappeared into the smoke of history.
submitted by TarbusCavarus to shortstories [link] [comments]
As the end of autumn approached, the chill of morning and evening began to cut through like a hunting knife. Through the tanker's windshield, the driver could see a woman wearing a knitted scarf and a blanket on her shoulders. She had sat down in the middle of the road and was howling long and heart-wrenching like a lament. Passers-by looked at her with horror, surprise, or contempt. When a lady in a fur coat approached her to inquire, the unfortunate woman began to roll on the ground, thrashing about like a rolling log heading down the valley, and screaming with even greater force and deeper sorrow, so loud that it could be heard all the way to the shire, after which she stopped in a sob, crying quietly like the water of a lowland spring. She was Uncle Jim's eldest daughter.
Part I
Mr. and Mrs. Axelton were two retirees with charitable souls. They had the sign of charity burning on the soles of their dusty, second-hand shoes, laced up with shoelaces they got from the thrift store. They brought a bag of beans for the dog, bananas for the children, bread, bologna, and mustard for the homeless - lost souls from the outskirts of the city. They entered the basement of an abandoned building through labyrinthine paths surrounded by plywood and wrought iron fences. The building was marked with a red dot.
Around an improvised brick stove, illegally connected to the neighbourhood’s electricity network, sat Uncle Jim, Melissa, the children, and Baxter, opening cans of food received from a philanthropic organization. Baxter was a small mongrel with blue-blooded hunting dog lineage, who always hovered around Jim and helped him beg. Mrs. Axelton felt more compassion for the dog than for the family without a penny.
Jim spent his days in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral with Googie Gums, Mr. Blondey, Fane Fairfax, and Tane Cuthbert. They lived as best they could. On the drier days, they humbly lined up behind the priests, praying for them to give them something from the charity box. In the evenings, they opened a cheap two-litter bottle of beer, played backgammon, talked about the fate of the country, football, and the apocalypse.
One spring afternoon, a benevolent gentleman took Jim aside, treated him royally, and offered him an impossible-to-refuse deal. He handed him two thousand five hundred lei in cash, for which all he had to do was sign some blank documents. At that time, it was a good sum of money. Jim thought that luck had fallen upon him like a huge wheel of cheese, so he immediately accepted, without hesitation. With the money, he bought new clothes for Melissa, notebooks for the children, food, and drink in abundance.
At the beginning of the summer, a conflict erupted with Mr. Axelton over such an absurd issue that it would make customers of the "Tancredi Kingsley Jr." brewery doubt the honesty of the storyteller. Mrs. Axelton, a sensitive and volunteer person, was involved in a campaign to save stray dogs who, without the dedication of people like her, would have ended up in miserable shelters on the outskirts of the city. Those who were up for adoption were taken off the streets, washed, vaccinated, and sent to their new owners.
Jane, a neighbour from the ghetto, had told Jim one evening while gossiping on the roadside that significant profits could be made from selling animals. Therefore, seeing the strange pensioner walking through the neighbourhood week after week taking care of stray dogs, the idea arose in his mind that these actions could only have mercantile and hidden purposes, from which he was unfairly excluded from sharing the profits.
Despite Axelton's explanation, treating him to a sausage roll and a coffee from the vending machine, Jim remained unchanged in his opinions, considering his neighbour guilty of greed. When he saw him coming out of the building or on his way to the grocery store, he shouted at him from the other side of the street to demand an explanation and followed him grumpily like an unhappy landlord who had not been paid rent for a long time. He had become a real nuisance on the head of our unfortunate citizen, who now found himself forced to make unimaginable detours from the exit of the building to the bus station just to avoid the annoying neighbour with whom he did not want to continue the confrontation.
Part II
Fortunately, an unexpected twist of fate spared Mr. Axelton from a steep climb up the confrontation ladder when Jim was unexpectedly summoned to the station by a local police officer. It turns out he had signed a mortgage without any collateral which he had no chance of repaying in this lifetime. He was charged with fraud and sent to the White Gate prison for five years. No one visited him. When he was released, after two and a half years of serving, he limped and had only a few teeth left in his mouth. It was as if he had aged ten years.
Meanwhile, Melissa had coupled up with Fane and had a child with him. They moved together to the Hopeless Heights, a neighbourhood built specifically for needy people, and Jim's children were sent to an orphanage. Baxter was taken in by a kind-hearted nobleman who loved animals and owned a seafood restaurant, entrusting him to a mute maid who walked him around the blocks three times a day. Sometimes, on summer days, dressed in a bathrobe and a pair of flip-flops, Sir. Hatchet Jenkins would come out with two other small dogs as big as cats who walked swaying like wind-up toys. He walked the streets like a traveling circus performer, but if anyone dared to mock him, he became so furious that he turned into a steam boiler, blowing heat through his nostrils and obscenities at his enemy, threatening to punch them, showing them the cane he would strike his heels with.
Uncle Jim first moved in front of St. Nicholas Church, where Father Murphy O'Malley served. He was a small man, always carrying a leather briefcase like a spy movie security agent, had a carefully groomed moustache, a gold watch and ring, and patent leather shoes. Everyone said he had the gift. He came to church in a luxury car. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a multitude of beggars, some of whom had come from neighbouring quarters, trying to kiss his hand and ask for coins. Jim didn't last long there, the competition was too high.
Lately, he had been experiencing more frequent headaches. He walked with a cane down the narrow street, swaying in the wind like a turnip pulled from the ground. I didn't think he would last much longer, but Uncle Jim had a survival instinct that most mortals lack. He stopped first at Mr. Axelton's, with whom he had made amends in the meantime, and asked for a pair of boots for the snowy weather and a packet of aspirin for his headache. He found an old fur hat with ears that had been thrown away and drank a cup of mulled wine, given as charity for the souls of the dead. Then, he found shelter in a cave under the ruins of an abandoned manor.
In the morning, he emerged from the ground like a contemporary Lazarus and sat next to the all-night convenience store near the Agriculture Department. On his way out, the kindest customers would always leave him something: a roll, a coin with the king's face on it, half a salami stick, a pair of socks, a cube of melted cheese, or a bottle of curdled milk. He had a yellow plastic bag in which he loaded all of his products. In the evening, when he returned to his lair, it was always full of wonders.
Epilogue
When spring arrived, Jim began to bloom like snowdrops. His teeth grew anew, made of copper, his hair turned green like grass, his eyes started to distinguish details with the precision of an eagle, his skin became as smooth as that of young boys, his arms became steel, his forehead raised, his thoughts became clear, and his vision became as clear as that of great wise men. It was rumoured that he was making so much money that he could move to a hotel. The last time I saw him was on a foggy April morning. He got into a taxi and disappeared into the smoke of history.
2023.06.07 18:09 puz64 Wow😵When is this gonna stop? See quote from Twitter: "Old bag lady V is at it again..."
 | submitted by puz64 to AustinButlerLand [link] [comments] |
2023.06.07 18:07 BogaMafija I hate the osprix zealot
I hate their big bird brain which decides to dash 10 times in the spam of 10 seconds dealing 108% of my total HP.
I hate how they have wings which propel them allowing their stupid dash to deal that 108% my total HP damage.
I hate their voice lines because every single fucking time that ambush appears in an empowered echo I either have to teleport out or just accept the fact that 10 of these assholes are gonna spread my cheeks so hard my PC will become a 4D machine and transfer that pain right into my IRL cheeks, all while I'm being bombarded by their overtuned meteor throwing chicken holy bird brothers which spawn in the same ambush because they heard that I hate them and that I dread them.
I hate their fancy and kind of pretty fiery weapons, because every time I see those flames the unending flames of hatred start burning in my heart and I get a genocidal need to kill every single one of the osprix, but I can't do that because I can't fucking kill a pack of 5+ osprix zealots, who just decide to bring in more birdbrain fucks every time I try to kite them around the map.
I hate these fucks so much I can't even look at my parrot - I have to feed it while turning my head away from it cause I can't stand his proud posture, knowing that he knows what other birds did to me in a video game.
I hate seeing pigeons on the street because I know they're not real, they're government drones that just happen to land in front of me right after I go out for my osprix zealot tilt walk outside. I just know they're watching and laughing at me.
I hate seeing the Sun and the happiness that the sunshine brings now that it's finally summer, because it reminds me of the scorching burns I have in my heart and on my asshole from meeting osprix zealots in my ambush echoes.
I hate that the picture of osprix zealots on the shitty fandom wiki for Last Epoch is so cool and dynamic, it makes them look better than my shitty character, which they probably are or else they wouldn't flex every opportunity they get on my character. If the game had a larger budget they'd probably even introduce a T-bag animation to these fucks just so they can shit on me even more.
I hate trying to play other games when I tilt exit Last Epoch (fully knowing I'll be back in an hour again), because I boot up PoE and then I get to the Solaris temple and I instantly get grade 10 PTSD more severe than a war veteran because of being reminded of the fucking Solarum empire, Rahyeh and the fucking chicken zealots which keep haunting me everywhere I go.
I hate that they only have two skills - an "Attack" which does normal amounts of damage to my tanky melee character and the "Wave Dash" aka "Wave your HP goodbye" and "Fuck you" which instakills my fire-res overcapped 66%+ armor 2.5k HP Paladin.
I hate that one of their voice lines is "You shall die" which has a chance to trigger when they first lay their psychopathic eyes on you - I hate it because they're telling the truth, and I'm supposed to love and respect people that tell me the truth, but I fucking can't stand these smug pricks knowing they're right.
I hate that their low-quality voice acted lines sound kind of cool nevertheless, because every time I hear them I think to myself "oh boy cool" before being reminded by the force of a million knives that even daring to laugh or have fun in the presence of such godlike beings is punishable by harsher rules than those the Greek gods pulled out their asses when they handed them out.
I hate Helios from the Greek mythology, I hate Sol from the Roman mythology and now I even hate Dazbog, the God of the Sun from the mythology and religion of my old slavic ancestors. He's supposedly the god of the Sun, fire, heat, warmth, light and weather - the only fire, heat and warmth I feel is the penetration of the osprix zealots steamy 1000 degree butter knives in my back as I try to find room to escape their bullshit 1s cooldown dashes so I can fucking portal out.
When I google "osprix" Google automatically corrects it to osprey - osprey is a large fish-eating hawk (Pandion haliaetus) with long wings that is dark brown above and mostly pure white below - I now hate the large fish-eating hawk as well, because it reminds me of the fucking osprix zealots.
I hate the osprix zealot.
Fuck the osprix zealot.
submitted by BogaMafija to LastEpoch [link] [comments]
I hate how they have wings which propel them allowing their stupid dash to deal that 108% my total HP damage.
I hate their voice lines because every single fucking time that ambush appears in an empowered echo I either have to teleport out or just accept the fact that 10 of these assholes are gonna spread my cheeks so hard my PC will become a 4D machine and transfer that pain right into my IRL cheeks, all while I'm being bombarded by their overtuned meteor throwing chicken holy bird brothers which spawn in the same ambush because they heard that I hate them and that I dread them.
I hate their fancy and kind of pretty fiery weapons, because every time I see those flames the unending flames of hatred start burning in my heart and I get a genocidal need to kill every single one of the osprix, but I can't do that because I can't fucking kill a pack of 5+ osprix zealots, who just decide to bring in more birdbrain fucks every time I try to kite them around the map.
I hate these fucks so much I can't even look at my parrot - I have to feed it while turning my head away from it cause I can't stand his proud posture, knowing that he knows what other birds did to me in a video game.
I hate seeing pigeons on the street because I know they're not real, they're government drones that just happen to land in front of me right after I go out for my osprix zealot tilt walk outside. I just know they're watching and laughing at me.
I hate seeing the Sun and the happiness that the sunshine brings now that it's finally summer, because it reminds me of the scorching burns I have in my heart and on my asshole from meeting osprix zealots in my ambush echoes.
I hate that the picture of osprix zealots on the shitty fandom wiki for Last Epoch is so cool and dynamic, it makes them look better than my shitty character, which they probably are or else they wouldn't flex every opportunity they get on my character. If the game had a larger budget they'd probably even introduce a T-bag animation to these fucks just so they can shit on me even more.
I hate trying to play other games when I tilt exit Last Epoch (fully knowing I'll be back in an hour again), because I boot up PoE and then I get to the Solaris temple and I instantly get grade 10 PTSD more severe than a war veteran because of being reminded of the fucking Solarum empire, Rahyeh and the fucking chicken zealots which keep haunting me everywhere I go.
I hate that they only have two skills - an "Attack" which does normal amounts of damage to my tanky melee character and the "Wave Dash" aka "Wave your HP goodbye" and "Fuck you" which instakills my fire-res overcapped 66%+ armor 2.5k HP Paladin.
I hate that one of their voice lines is "You shall die" which has a chance to trigger when they first lay their psychopathic eyes on you - I hate it because they're telling the truth, and I'm supposed to love and respect people that tell me the truth, but I fucking can't stand these smug pricks knowing they're right.
I hate that their low-quality voice acted lines sound kind of cool nevertheless, because every time I hear them I think to myself "oh boy cool" before being reminded by the force of a million knives that even daring to laugh or have fun in the presence of such godlike beings is punishable by harsher rules than those the Greek gods pulled out their asses when they handed them out.
I hate Helios from the Greek mythology, I hate Sol from the Roman mythology and now I even hate Dazbog, the God of the Sun from the mythology and religion of my old slavic ancestors. He's supposedly the god of the Sun, fire, heat, warmth, light and weather - the only fire, heat and warmth I feel is the penetration of the osprix zealots steamy 1000 degree butter knives in my back as I try to find room to escape their bullshit 1s cooldown dashes so I can fucking portal out.
When I google "osprix" Google automatically corrects it to osprey - osprey is a large fish-eating hawk (Pandion haliaetus) with long wings that is dark brown above and mostly pure white below - I now hate the large fish-eating hawk as well, because it reminds me of the fucking osprix zealots.
I hate the osprix zealot.
Fuck the osprix zealot.
2023.06.07 18:01 Top_Permission8077 [FIND] Women's bags (LV and Chanel) seller claims they're better than Old Cobbler's stuff
submitted by Top_Permission8077 to u/Top_Permission8077 [link] [comments]
2023.06.07 17:58 dlschindler My Crow And The Heist Of The Aeons
Books sat all around the Choir, who were mental hospital patients magically shaped as ravens. I was the first to take human form, as my raven's eye spotted what I hoped was ours. It was one book among many, but it was also Circe's diary. As a man I could thumb the pages.
We had come in through the open window of the room of the manor that held so many books. I'd noticed the old diary right away and begun to read it while the ravens shifted from void travelers to humans.
I frowned, realizing it was just a record of all of her lovers. An impressive body count of seventy-seven, I noted her notation on the last page. Then a chill ran through my blood. The sorcerer in me knew something about them.
"Cory, what sort of magic can be divided into parts, among lovers?" I asked.
"I have no idea, my Lord." Cory looked at the book. "A diary?"
"Yes. Circe's diary, but I suspect it is more than that. She had a second use for these creeps. I bet we could find something." I decided. The fortunate find was only a promise. I had no idea if there was useful magic or not. Whatever magic she had hidden would be worth hiding, obviously.
The others shambled past me and Cory in their open straight jackets and bathrobes and hospital gowns. They had all sorts of weapons: clubs, a broken bottle, a claw pincher and an uzi. I had my staff, carved from the unstable and formless magic between worlds into a proper weapon.
We needed our weapons, dried zombies stood in our way, shuffling among the books. Magical slaves, living corpses. They were still dangerous and had to be destroyed.
For a moment the dead stood in our path, their eyes shimmering blankly in the shadows. They regarded us, the intruders, then began to shuffle towards us. I felt a chill of revulsion at the sight of corpses walking and gagged on their stench. I'd seen far worse, but one never truly gets used to such things.
A loud rapid clapping noise and the merry tinkle of bullet casings erupted from the uzi. It was pretty ineffective. The rest of the Choir brandished their weapons and strode forward like the maniacs they were. Even Scarlet was in the mood to kill something and she tore apart more than one of the shambling dead.
She looked at me and I caught a gleam in her eye of psychotic delight. Some nervous feeling always rose up in me since the first time I had met her. Somehow the shift from a helpless hitchhiker to a hook handed murderer always caught me off guard.
When we'd finished killing the dead we sorted our way out from the books.
Time seemed distorted. How things played out always felt surreal as we partially entered entirely different worlds than our own. There was always a dreamlike perspective, as though I were merely an actor under observation rather than a participant. I often had to remind myself of the grim reality I was trapped in.
I had lost count of the rare artifacts we had stolen for Aureus and the worlds we had invaded and brought death and horror to. I loathed all of it, feared there was no salvation after my numerous misdeeds. What choice did I have?
I led the Choir through the manor, watching myself do so.
There were other servants, just as ghoulish as the dried zombies. We killed everything we met until we got to the master bedroom. The safe was too big to take with us.
"Cater?" I asked our safecracker. She was also totally nuts. Her wild eyes rolled around and beheld the safe as though pretending she hadn't noticed it. Her fake response of joy wasn't really fake, she was actually happy.
"Gots." She whispered and went to work on the safe. The Choir stood around breathing too loudly for her and drooling. Eventually she got it open and took out the green gem. It sparkled evilly. Circe's Emerald.
"Let's go." I said and we all returned to the books and found the ġedwimor was shimmering visibly where we could revert to ravens that could fly home. We leapt through it and into flight. Our rave cast the shadow of one great bird. The magics welcomed us, living and enchanted creatures that we were, and insane. Across worlds and time we flew back to our home.
At Dellfriar we arrived. Except I had finally found my way out. Aureus somehow knew before I did that I held the key to my escape. It was in Circe's Diary that the clue existed. There was more to her spell than turning the enlightened into ravens.
I dreamed of the unkindness of ravens watching me. Cory asked me in the dream:
"How many pigs are on her island?"
I began to count them and I took a step with each number. By the seventy-seventh step I was asleep again, within the dream. I looked at my sleeping form in the dreamscape, surrounded by pigs and watched by ravens. I was looking down from a great distance, it suddenly seemed, and then I was looking up from far below.
"Where are we?" I asked Cory. I stared at my crow and he seemed to be smiling. It was the dream that made it seem so.
"Seventy-seven steps to the bottom, my Lord." Cory advised me. "And each must be counted."
"Those were pigs." I pointed out.
"Pigs that were once men. Each of them descended further, marking a fraction of the way. Love is a journey, a dreamy journey, ever downwards." Cory chirped.
"What about the exact number?" I wondered. To a crow, numbers were more symbolic than literal.
"It's just a number of stairs leading into the dream lands. It means nothing." Cory sounded playful. Cory had learned that numbers were literal to humans. It amused him that I was confused.
"But the number of Circe's lovers?" I asked.
"Of course, they are permanently under her control. They made a bargain, surrendering their bodies. Each of them counts as the descent to the bottom. Their blood and hers is mixed. The blood of her lover's, her blood, they are helpless to her will." Cory explained. I was glad I had read so many books with my crow that we both knew the answers when we met in Dream.
"Where is she?" I sat up from the blue clouds and looked around. As I focused I found I was on an island. What I imagined Circe's prison to look like.
Someone spoke to me:
"You use my spell on yourself. A wereraven, part of a rave of lunatics just like yourself. You have stolen my emerald?" I heard the soft voice of a delicate female. I turned around and saw her there. She was staring at me, her eyes looked curious and a little hurt.
"I stole it for Aureus. They're making a weapon, and your emerald is a suitable component." I explained.
"Aureus?" Circe seemed somehow both amused and irritated at-once. "Neither a man nor a woman. Neither a human nor a creature of magic. Not a young soul nor an old one."
"The same." I sighed in sympathetic exasperation.
"You work for me now. You will steal my emerald from this weapon. You will seal Aureus in a moment stolen from the wheel upon which the ages turn. A moment among the aeons that never was and never will be." Circe smiled strangely for me. I sensed that to her victims she seemed irresistible. I found her charms to be crocodilian.
"You are right." I agreed with her. "We have searched for a long time for a way to defeat Aureus."
"Was the answer..." Circe started to ask a question and then paused for emphasis: "Right in front of you all along?"
"We thought that dying might be the answer. If we were dead we couldn't serve Aureus." Cory sounded cheerful and perky, like he was telling a very funny joke.
"Life." Circe swore. "Life is the answer. You are life from me. You wield my powers with ease, Greatson." Circe's smile looked maternal. It occurred to me that I was immune to her charms because I was her descendant only after I heard her say those words.
"You're my Lord's ancestor?" Cory cleverly surmised. "No wonder he is so valuable to Aureus. I thought it was strange that such a powerful sorcerer required help from my Lord!" Cory cawed with hilarity. The revelation held layers of humor for my crow, who felt like explaining further: "You know, because it is so funny. My Lord would be the last choice of most competent magic users. We've routinely made mistakes that could only be made during the hour that is reserved for amateurs!"
Circe tried to hide her amusement. "I'm sure my Greatson is learning. Even I managed to make a few embarrassing mistakes in my youth."
"Really?" I asked.
"No." Circe smiled. "I'm just trying to make you feel better."
"We shall know the plan?" I interrupted. Circe was standing before me, the short distance between us meant nothing in Dream. She looked serious as she drew upon my eyelids. I could watch her do so with my eyes closed.
Then I awoke in the dream I had descended from. I was again among the pigs and the ravens. From there I shook myself awake in the real world. For a moment I was tempted to shake myself again. Fear that I might wake up in a higher place from which I wouldn't be able find sleep made me hesitate.
"Do you recall the dream we have had, my Lord?" Cory asked.
"About Circe being my great grandma? With a few more 'greats'?" I answered rhetorically.
"Yes. She put a spell on you. Can you see anything that you couldn't?" Cory asked.
I blinked and looked around. For just an instant, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Aureus somewhere else in Dellfriar and busy with the artifact's assembly. Several components were still missing - though.
The theft of Circe's Emerald and the escape from Dellfriar had many outcomes. There is only one that I survived. Only one version that can be reassembled from the chaos of so many worlds collapsing inward, so many realities becoming undone. Circe was right, it was only life - the deepest magic I knew of.
Inspiration came with my new perception. I could see the path ahead of me. I could see that there was only one version in which I survived and escaped. If I had done anything differently, the butterflies of death would have touched me.
I saw the window of opportunity and I knew every step I had to take. I took my bag and my staff, collecting the implements of my magical heists into the bag. I clicked my tongue and my crow alighted upon my shoulder.
With a cunning plan in mind, I ventured into the heart of Aureus's lair alone. The dimly lit chamber was filled with intricate machinery and arcane devices. I could sense the pulsating energy of Circe's Emerald, beckoning to me from its secure pedestal.
Taking utmost care to avoid detection, I stealthily maneuvered through the labyrinthine corridors, relying on my years at Dellfriar as a master thief. The shadows embraced me, concealing my presence from any wandering guards or surveillance systems that may have kept sentinel.
As I reached the chamber, I surveyed the room for any potential traps or alarms. It seemed Aureus had grown complacent, perhaps underestimating the audacity of a lone infiltrator. With a wry smile, I knew this was my moment to strike.
Silently, I approached the pedestal housing the emerald. It radiated a mesmerizing glow, casting ethereal patterns on the walls. Carefully, I retrieved a set of specialized tools from my bag: a combination of lockpicks and arcane implements.
I began to work my way through the security measures protecting Circe's Emerald. Each lock and enchantment posed a challenge, but my skilled hands moved with precision and finesse. The emerald's aura seemed to dance in anticipation, as if recognizing the touch of someone who understood its power.
Minutes stretched into eternity as I delicately dismantled the final obstacle. With a soft click, the emerald was finally free from its confinements. Holding it delicately in my gloved hand, I could feel the vibrant energy coursing through my fingertips.
But my mission was not yet complete. I had to make my escape undetected, evading any Choir or enchantments that may lie in my path. The emerald, now securely concealed within a specially crafted case, remained a beacon of power.
Slinking through the shadows, I retraced my steps, navigating the treacherous corridors with the precision of a phantom. Every movement was calculated, every sound muffled, ensuring that my presence went unnoticed.
As I emerged from the depths of Aureus's lair, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I had accomplished what seemed impossible: an audacious heist of Circe's Emerald from under the nose of a powerful adversary.
With the emerald secured, I vanished into the night, leaving no trace of my daring feat behind. The power of Circe's Emerald now resided in my possession, a relic of immense potential. Its fate, and the choice of how to wield its formidable magic, rested solely in my hands.
Little did Aureus or The Choir suspect that their plans had been quietly usurped. The heist had been a success, an act of cunning and skill that would alter the course of their intricate dance. In the shadows, I contemplated my next move, knowing that the emerald would grant me the power to shape destiny itself.
As I reached the top of the castle, a gust of wind tousled my hair, carrying with it the whispered echoes of Aureus's approach. I could sense their presence, their energy tinged with frustration and anger. It was clear they had discovered the theft of Circe's Emerald and were now in hot pursuit.
Just as I was about to invoke the ancient spell, the very same one that had allowed Circe's spellbound to transform into ravens and traverse the realms, Aureus materialized before me. Their form exuded an aura of authority and power, yet beneath the surface, I could sense their desperation.
"You dare to steal from me?" Aureus's voice reverberated with a mix of fury and disbelief. "That emerald holds powers beyond your comprehension. Return it to me now, and perhaps I shall spare your wretched existence."
I stood on the edge of the castle, the vast expanse stretching out before me. Time and space awaited, ready to be conquered by the wings of the raven. With unwavering resolve, I met Aureus's gaze and spoke with conviction.
"The emerald has chosen a new path, away from your grasp," I declared, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Its power will not be wielded by your hands, for it belongs to a greater purpose."
Aureus's expression twisted into a mixture of rage and desperation. Their outstretched hand reached for me, a last-ditch effort to prevent my escape. But I was quicker, fueled by the magic I now possessed.
With a swift motion, I uttered the incantation, and my form transformed into that of a raven. Wings extended, I took flight, the wind carrying me away from the clutches of Aureus. The space between worlds beckoned, an ethereal gateway to new realms and infinite possibilities.
As I soared through the threshold, I glanced back, witnessing Aureus's desperate grasp falling short. Their fingers brushed against the empty air, and with a cry of frustration, they plummeted into the void, disappearing into the abyss between worlds.
In that fleeting moment, I felt a mixture of triumph and sadness. Aureus, once a formidable adversary, now lost in the vast unknown. But my purpose lay beyond their reach, and I knew that I carried the weight of Circe's legacy upon my wings.
Across worlds and time, I journeyed, guided by the whispers of ancient knowledge and the power of the emerald. As I soared through realms, I vowed to protect its magic, to wield it for the greater good, and to ensure that Aureus would never threaten the balance again.
The adventure had only just begun, and I embraced the uncertainty that lay ahead. With the wind beneath my wings, I charted a course through the tapestry of existence, carrying Circe's legacy forward, and leaving Aureus to face the consequences of their insatiable hunger for power in the ever-shifting space between worlds.
"We have but one flight, there will be no way back to Dellfriar when we land." Cory interrupted my musings. "Where are we going?"
I smiled at the question, for it was obvious. Cory was always there, upon my shoulder. For me there was somewhere I wanted to be:
"We are going home."
submitted by dlschindler to Nonsleep [link] [comments]
We had come in through the open window of the room of the manor that held so many books. I'd noticed the old diary right away and begun to read it while the ravens shifted from void travelers to humans.
I frowned, realizing it was just a record of all of her lovers. An impressive body count of seventy-seven, I noted her notation on the last page. Then a chill ran through my blood. The sorcerer in me knew something about them.
"Cory, what sort of magic can be divided into parts, among lovers?" I asked.
"I have no idea, my Lord." Cory looked at the book. "A diary?"
"Yes. Circe's diary, but I suspect it is more than that. She had a second use for these creeps. I bet we could find something." I decided. The fortunate find was only a promise. I had no idea if there was useful magic or not. Whatever magic she had hidden would be worth hiding, obviously.
The others shambled past me and Cory in their open straight jackets and bathrobes and hospital gowns. They had all sorts of weapons: clubs, a broken bottle, a claw pincher and an uzi. I had my staff, carved from the unstable and formless magic between worlds into a proper weapon.
We needed our weapons, dried zombies stood in our way, shuffling among the books. Magical slaves, living corpses. They were still dangerous and had to be destroyed.
For a moment the dead stood in our path, their eyes shimmering blankly in the shadows. They regarded us, the intruders, then began to shuffle towards us. I felt a chill of revulsion at the sight of corpses walking and gagged on their stench. I'd seen far worse, but one never truly gets used to such things.
A loud rapid clapping noise and the merry tinkle of bullet casings erupted from the uzi. It was pretty ineffective. The rest of the Choir brandished their weapons and strode forward like the maniacs they were. Even Scarlet was in the mood to kill something and she tore apart more than one of the shambling dead.
She looked at me and I caught a gleam in her eye of psychotic delight. Some nervous feeling always rose up in me since the first time I had met her. Somehow the shift from a helpless hitchhiker to a hook handed murderer always caught me off guard.
When we'd finished killing the dead we sorted our way out from the books.
Time seemed distorted. How things played out always felt surreal as we partially entered entirely different worlds than our own. There was always a dreamlike perspective, as though I were merely an actor under observation rather than a participant. I often had to remind myself of the grim reality I was trapped in.
I had lost count of the rare artifacts we had stolen for Aureus and the worlds we had invaded and brought death and horror to. I loathed all of it, feared there was no salvation after my numerous misdeeds. What choice did I have?
I led the Choir through the manor, watching myself do so.
There were other servants, just as ghoulish as the dried zombies. We killed everything we met until we got to the master bedroom. The safe was too big to take with us.
"Cater?" I asked our safecracker. She was also totally nuts. Her wild eyes rolled around and beheld the safe as though pretending she hadn't noticed it. Her fake response of joy wasn't really fake, she was actually happy.
"Gots." She whispered and went to work on the safe. The Choir stood around breathing too loudly for her and drooling. Eventually she got it open and took out the green gem. It sparkled evilly. Circe's Emerald.
"Let's go." I said and we all returned to the books and found the ġedwimor was shimmering visibly where we could revert to ravens that could fly home. We leapt through it and into flight. Our rave cast the shadow of one great bird. The magics welcomed us, living and enchanted creatures that we were, and insane. Across worlds and time we flew back to our home.
At Dellfriar we arrived. Except I had finally found my way out. Aureus somehow knew before I did that I held the key to my escape. It was in Circe's Diary that the clue existed. There was more to her spell than turning the enlightened into ravens.
I dreamed of the unkindness of ravens watching me. Cory asked me in the dream:
"How many pigs are on her island?"
I began to count them and I took a step with each number. By the seventy-seventh step I was asleep again, within the dream. I looked at my sleeping form in the dreamscape, surrounded by pigs and watched by ravens. I was looking down from a great distance, it suddenly seemed, and then I was looking up from far below.
"Where are we?" I asked Cory. I stared at my crow and he seemed to be smiling. It was the dream that made it seem so.
"Seventy-seven steps to the bottom, my Lord." Cory advised me. "And each must be counted."
"Those were pigs." I pointed out.
"Pigs that were once men. Each of them descended further, marking a fraction of the way. Love is a journey, a dreamy journey, ever downwards." Cory chirped.
"What about the exact number?" I wondered. To a crow, numbers were more symbolic than literal.
"It's just a number of stairs leading into the dream lands. It means nothing." Cory sounded playful. Cory had learned that numbers were literal to humans. It amused him that I was confused.
"But the number of Circe's lovers?" I asked.
"Of course, they are permanently under her control. They made a bargain, surrendering their bodies. Each of them counts as the descent to the bottom. Their blood and hers is mixed. The blood of her lover's, her blood, they are helpless to her will." Cory explained. I was glad I had read so many books with my crow that we both knew the answers when we met in Dream.
"Where is she?" I sat up from the blue clouds and looked around. As I focused I found I was on an island. What I imagined Circe's prison to look like.
Someone spoke to me:
"You use my spell on yourself. A wereraven, part of a rave of lunatics just like yourself. You have stolen my emerald?" I heard the soft voice of a delicate female. I turned around and saw her there. She was staring at me, her eyes looked curious and a little hurt.
"I stole it for Aureus. They're making a weapon, and your emerald is a suitable component." I explained.
"Aureus?" Circe seemed somehow both amused and irritated at-once. "Neither a man nor a woman. Neither a human nor a creature of magic. Not a young soul nor an old one."
"The same." I sighed in sympathetic exasperation.
"You work for me now. You will steal my emerald from this weapon. You will seal Aureus in a moment stolen from the wheel upon which the ages turn. A moment among the aeons that never was and never will be." Circe smiled strangely for me. I sensed that to her victims she seemed irresistible. I found her charms to be crocodilian.
"You are right." I agreed with her. "We have searched for a long time for a way to defeat Aureus."
"Was the answer..." Circe started to ask a question and then paused for emphasis: "Right in front of you all along?"
"We thought that dying might be the answer. If we were dead we couldn't serve Aureus." Cory sounded cheerful and perky, like he was telling a very funny joke.
"Life." Circe swore. "Life is the answer. You are life from me. You wield my powers with ease, Greatson." Circe's smile looked maternal. It occurred to me that I was immune to her charms because I was her descendant only after I heard her say those words.
"You're my Lord's ancestor?" Cory cleverly surmised. "No wonder he is so valuable to Aureus. I thought it was strange that such a powerful sorcerer required help from my Lord!" Cory cawed with hilarity. The revelation held layers of humor for my crow, who felt like explaining further: "You know, because it is so funny. My Lord would be the last choice of most competent magic users. We've routinely made mistakes that could only be made during the hour that is reserved for amateurs!"
Circe tried to hide her amusement. "I'm sure my Greatson is learning. Even I managed to make a few embarrassing mistakes in my youth."
"Really?" I asked.
"No." Circe smiled. "I'm just trying to make you feel better."
"We shall know the plan?" I interrupted. Circe was standing before me, the short distance between us meant nothing in Dream. She looked serious as she drew upon my eyelids. I could watch her do so with my eyes closed.
Then I awoke in the dream I had descended from. I was again among the pigs and the ravens. From there I shook myself awake in the real world. For a moment I was tempted to shake myself again. Fear that I might wake up in a higher place from which I wouldn't be able find sleep made me hesitate.
"Do you recall the dream we have had, my Lord?" Cory asked.
"About Circe being my great grandma? With a few more 'greats'?" I answered rhetorically.
"Yes. She put a spell on you. Can you see anything that you couldn't?" Cory asked.
I blinked and looked around. For just an instant, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Aureus somewhere else in Dellfriar and busy with the artifact's assembly. Several components were still missing - though.
The theft of Circe's Emerald and the escape from Dellfriar had many outcomes. There is only one that I survived. Only one version that can be reassembled from the chaos of so many worlds collapsing inward, so many realities becoming undone. Circe was right, it was only life - the deepest magic I knew of.
Inspiration came with my new perception. I could see the path ahead of me. I could see that there was only one version in which I survived and escaped. If I had done anything differently, the butterflies of death would have touched me.
I saw the window of opportunity and I knew every step I had to take. I took my bag and my staff, collecting the implements of my magical heists into the bag. I clicked my tongue and my crow alighted upon my shoulder.
With a cunning plan in mind, I ventured into the heart of Aureus's lair alone. The dimly lit chamber was filled with intricate machinery and arcane devices. I could sense the pulsating energy of Circe's Emerald, beckoning to me from its secure pedestal.
Taking utmost care to avoid detection, I stealthily maneuvered through the labyrinthine corridors, relying on my years at Dellfriar as a master thief. The shadows embraced me, concealing my presence from any wandering guards or surveillance systems that may have kept sentinel.
As I reached the chamber, I surveyed the room for any potential traps or alarms. It seemed Aureus had grown complacent, perhaps underestimating the audacity of a lone infiltrator. With a wry smile, I knew this was my moment to strike.
Silently, I approached the pedestal housing the emerald. It radiated a mesmerizing glow, casting ethereal patterns on the walls. Carefully, I retrieved a set of specialized tools from my bag: a combination of lockpicks and arcane implements.
I began to work my way through the security measures protecting Circe's Emerald. Each lock and enchantment posed a challenge, but my skilled hands moved with precision and finesse. The emerald's aura seemed to dance in anticipation, as if recognizing the touch of someone who understood its power.
Minutes stretched into eternity as I delicately dismantled the final obstacle. With a soft click, the emerald was finally free from its confinements. Holding it delicately in my gloved hand, I could feel the vibrant energy coursing through my fingertips.
But my mission was not yet complete. I had to make my escape undetected, evading any Choir or enchantments that may lie in my path. The emerald, now securely concealed within a specially crafted case, remained a beacon of power.
Slinking through the shadows, I retraced my steps, navigating the treacherous corridors with the precision of a phantom. Every movement was calculated, every sound muffled, ensuring that my presence went unnoticed.
As I emerged from the depths of Aureus's lair, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I had accomplished what seemed impossible: an audacious heist of Circe's Emerald from under the nose of a powerful adversary.
With the emerald secured, I vanished into the night, leaving no trace of my daring feat behind. The power of Circe's Emerald now resided in my possession, a relic of immense potential. Its fate, and the choice of how to wield its formidable magic, rested solely in my hands.
Little did Aureus or The Choir suspect that their plans had been quietly usurped. The heist had been a success, an act of cunning and skill that would alter the course of their intricate dance. In the shadows, I contemplated my next move, knowing that the emerald would grant me the power to shape destiny itself.
As I reached the top of the castle, a gust of wind tousled my hair, carrying with it the whispered echoes of Aureus's approach. I could sense their presence, their energy tinged with frustration and anger. It was clear they had discovered the theft of Circe's Emerald and were now in hot pursuit.
Just as I was about to invoke the ancient spell, the very same one that had allowed Circe's spellbound to transform into ravens and traverse the realms, Aureus materialized before me. Their form exuded an aura of authority and power, yet beneath the surface, I could sense their desperation.
"You dare to steal from me?" Aureus's voice reverberated with a mix of fury and disbelief. "That emerald holds powers beyond your comprehension. Return it to me now, and perhaps I shall spare your wretched existence."
I stood on the edge of the castle, the vast expanse stretching out before me. Time and space awaited, ready to be conquered by the wings of the raven. With unwavering resolve, I met Aureus's gaze and spoke with conviction.
"The emerald has chosen a new path, away from your grasp," I declared, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Its power will not be wielded by your hands, for it belongs to a greater purpose."
Aureus's expression twisted into a mixture of rage and desperation. Their outstretched hand reached for me, a last-ditch effort to prevent my escape. But I was quicker, fueled by the magic I now possessed.
With a swift motion, I uttered the incantation, and my form transformed into that of a raven. Wings extended, I took flight, the wind carrying me away from the clutches of Aureus. The space between worlds beckoned, an ethereal gateway to new realms and infinite possibilities.
As I soared through the threshold, I glanced back, witnessing Aureus's desperate grasp falling short. Their fingers brushed against the empty air, and with a cry of frustration, they plummeted into the void, disappearing into the abyss between worlds.
In that fleeting moment, I felt a mixture of triumph and sadness. Aureus, once a formidable adversary, now lost in the vast unknown. But my purpose lay beyond their reach, and I knew that I carried the weight of Circe's legacy upon my wings.
Across worlds and time, I journeyed, guided by the whispers of ancient knowledge and the power of the emerald. As I soared through realms, I vowed to protect its magic, to wield it for the greater good, and to ensure that Aureus would never threaten the balance again.
The adventure had only just begun, and I embraced the uncertainty that lay ahead. With the wind beneath my wings, I charted a course through the tapestry of existence, carrying Circe's legacy forward, and leaving Aureus to face the consequences of their insatiable hunger for power in the ever-shifting space between worlds.
"We have but one flight, there will be no way back to Dellfriar when we land." Cory interrupted my musings. "Where are we going?"
I smiled at the question, for it was obvious. Cory was always there, upon my shoulder. For me there was somewhere I wanted to be:
"We are going home."
2023.06.07 17:58 Positively6thStreet Last week I resuscitated my first patient. I wish I hadn't.
One of the first things my EMS cert teacher told me was that the touchiness would pass. That one day I’d be slipping IV needles into arms as easily as I feather floss between my teeth.
Yet I was two weeks into my first full-time ambulance gig and I was still shaking between calls. The three story inferno raging downtown didn’t help, but that’s not where me and my partner Tom were heading.
Prior to this whole clusterfuck our night was quiet. Mostly dealing with confused dementia patients and burgeoning (harmless) schizophrenics. The MO is either to find their medicine, or transport them to the hospital. Most of our calls were like this, low stakes, right in my comfort zone.
But now we were dispatched to a priority two emergency, the kind of call that necessitates the whole lights and sirens deal. Someone called in a possible self-harm situation involving their neighbor. Serious shit, but I had Tom with me. He was a veteran EMT and former cop so I was always in steady hands.
The issue was that that downtown inferno had fucked traffic two solid miles in front and behind us. We hadn’t moved more than ten yards in five minutes, and even though it was protocol to have a police response as well we were still closest by far. We were the front line at that point.
Another minute passed in gridlock before Tom finally blurted it out. “You’ve gotta go alone.” And there really was no other way. Abandoning the ambulance and blocking further firetrucks wasn’t an option. Solo responses were rare, sure, but necessary in desperate circumstances like this.
I knew it was coming, but goddamn was that the last thing I wanted to hear.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to want to. Deep in my heart I would be willing to lay my life down for a patient. I wanted so badly to be that type of cool, methodical mind that entered an emergency situation and eased their patient back from the brink. It just hadn’t come to me yet.
Tom saw this. I’m sure if seconds weren’t the difference between life and death he would’ve given me a five minute pep talk. For now, all he could do was pat my shoulder and smirk. “Knock ‘em alive, kid.”
So out I went. Squeezing myself between the bumper to bumper traffic until I found myself on the correct cross street.
There’s something horrifying in the minutes between their call and your arrival. The feeling creeps in while you’re slipping over broken sidewalks and homeless tents. Realizing you’re the beginning and end of their recovery. It all comes down to you, the practitioner.
To be blunt…you’re God for those few minutes. And God was having a shit time gaining entry.
Someone buzzed me in, but of course apartment 13B was locked. Our response time was already woefully long so waiting for police to break it down was not an option. I went to town using my bump key, prying it open less with finesse and more raw frantic energy.
The door opened to near complete darkness. I saw candles around the corner at the end of the hall, but a whole lot of unknown was between me and there.
Light switches were oddly dead, so my flashlight had to guide my feet. From the little I could see it was a well lived-in apartment, at least two generations had sunk their essences into the carpet.
That’s when the smell hit.
It was familiar. The scent of a man? No. Not exactly. No. It was like my Grandfather’s musk. I hadn’t smelled it since I was in his lap as a kid, but the recall was instantaneous. It made me feel oddly safe. Which lasted only a few seconds considering what I would soon see.
Around the corner there were metric shitton of candles in the living room.
Every surface was covered with them. Weirdly, the wax was melting from every kind of receptacle EXCEPT a candle jar. Bowls, mugs, shot glasses. The source of the musk, no doubt. They cast the entire room in a homemade devilish glow.
They lit my way to the girl I would come to know as Ellie. She was wrapped up in herself in the corner, motionless. Baggy sweats and a white tee hid her frailty at a glance. I rushed to her, set her on her back, and began to triage.
First was the bruising on her neck. Fresh. Must’ve tried some sort of strangulation, but it wasn’t what did her in. So I quickly moved on.
Blood caked her white shirt. I followed it to her wrists. Messy little slashes, but didn’t go deep enough to do real harm. That’s when I noticed the culprit of my lightswitch woes. Sloppily wound duct-tape attaching a FORK to her hand.
Just a foot away from the charred out power outlet.
Jesus Christ she electrocuted herself. Full cardiac arrest. She could’ve died in the seconds it took me to triage.
My hands found position and began compressions irrespective of my panic. I regained some confidence as I found my rhythm, laying the foundation for the AED to work its magic.
The repetitiveness gave me my first moment to take Ellie in.
She was young, maybe even younger than my nineteen year-old sister. Her being in this position seemed so wrong. I could see this face getting drunk at a college party, waiting tables at a diner in town, but not here.
I thought about the second chance I wanted to give her as I continued compressions.
That’s when the room started to feel…warmer. The candle scent now got a bit clearer. It wasn’t the manly musk of my Grandfather, it was an animalistic scent. Dried blood and mange. Something that activated a long buried fight or flight instinct in my primitive genes.
I had to keep on with my compressions though. Even if I had lost track of time. I might’ve been a ways short of two minutes when I decided to cede CPR duties to my AED.
It wasn’t until I unzipped my bag that I realized this was my first time using an AED in the field. I had learned its ins and outs, tested it on course dummies, and seen others use it, but never had I actually been tasked to use it on my own in the field.
I pulled up her shirt and applied the wired pads, again feeling a warmth that sent a bead of sweat down my neck. Finally me, the naive idiot, decided to turn around.
The flames of the candle array now burned twice as bright. They licked high enough to start to uncover the shadows against the walls, revealing scraggly looking wallpaper. No time to admire the setting though.
I waited patiently as the AED robotically counted down and administered the first shock. It picks up heart rhythm automatically, but I still used my fingers to feel her absent pulse directly.
It remained still. No response. Desperate, I re-positioned my fingers as if checking pulses wasn’t the one thing I was supremely confident in.
My fingers wiped some blood from her wrist as I did. Only now did I notice her cuts weren’t at all random…they in fact cut out a symbol in her flesh.
A star? No. It was a pentagram.
But the affirmative BLOOP of the AED took my mind off that fast. It rejiggered her heartbeat, automatically suspending its shocks. Any weirdness I felt came secondary to my resumed chest compressions.
Resuscitation, especially with a faint heartbeat like this, always felt to me like pulling someone out of a quicksand pit. You’re shoulder deep clinging to a couple fingers. Hanging onto that little grip as you try to extract the entire person. If you’re good, that little grip is all you need.
I pumped with that metaphor in my mind’s eye. Laser-focused on my goal. For fifteen seconds I felt like that ideal practitioner I dreamt of being, reeling my patient back from the brink.
Until, I shit you not, the flames gained a life of their own.
At first I thought it was just the ones directly in front of me, but as I spun I realized it animated every live flame. Each one dancing its way towards the ceiling, causing their receptacles to bubble over with wax.
You spend a lifetime watching flames move randomly, flicking with the wind, and I promise you their sudden conscious movements will rattle you deep.
The full red light illuminated what I now realized wasn’t wallpaper…
It was blood-inked writing. Overlapping scrawls of mantras over every wall and even, impossibly, the ceiling. I imagined her crawling like a spider as she wrote Praise be/All Glory to the true One/May his new Kingdom reign. Then finally the one spanning the entire main wall.
May my body serve as his sacrificial lamb.
I suddenly felt like an interloper in a place I should not be, intruding on an ancient ritual. And whatever had its grip on her seemed to be in the room with me now.
The flames kept up their heights so I could take it all in, wax now spilling over onto the floor.
Looking back, I think it was offering me a chance to reconsider what I was doing.
It had its claim on her. But as her practitioner I felt I had an equal claim.
I resumed compressions.
Faster now, desperate to get her back as fast as possible. The flames swirled, seemingly enraged by this development and not letting me forget it.
Yet somehow I was able to separate my technique from my panic-ridden nerves, keeping a tight rhythm for almost a minute before the girl finally snapped upright. The flames dissipated in an instant down to tiny weak flickers.
Her eyes were shut at first, like she was still within a blissful dream. Then her eyes opened to what she seemed to clearly think was a nightmare.
“Where’d he go? Where is he?” She seemed taken by complete surprise, grounding herself back in reality as she pawed at herself. My practiced lines of patient comfort only enraged her.
“You have to let me get back!” With rabid panic she started to stab at her wrists but soon realized it wasn’t the most economical method of returning. I finally regained my composure just as I saw her eyes meet the burned outlet.
I screamed and grabbed at her leg but her hand stretched to reach it. It connected, but unfortunately it seemed she had blown it out completely the last time. No shock administered.
Ellie now kicked me off and stood, searching for a weapon, a way out. It gave me a second to try to reason with her person to person, that practiced bullshit now scared right out of me, but she responded with a level-headed reason that made it feel almost like…
…like she was speaking in my best interest.
“You don’t understand, I’m the last one, he needs me.” She raced across the room to her dresser, rifling through the top drawer. I went to pull her off when she struck me hard, across the face.
It wasn’t a punch to harm, as much as it was a utility swipe. Keeping me away as economically as possible. I was a few feet away when she pulled the knife from the drawer.
There wasn’t any fanfare, no waiting to see the horrified look on my face, she just sliced as fast as she possibly could. I don’t remember if it was two or three good hacks before Tom rushed in to tackle her.
In one swoop he was able to pin her while cleanly plucking the blade from her grip. Blood pooled as he steadied her flailing arms with ease, getting the one she had sliced into the open.
“You okay?” Once we had established that I was at least physically unharmed I got back to work wrapping her wrist, stopping the brunt of the blood flow. Tom reinstated order to my rapidly deteriorating nightmare.
As much as she wailed and cried in that first minute, she settled completely as she was padded up and restrained for transport. Her dead eyes followed me back and forth around the room as I spoke to the arriving police. Burning into my scalp even when I turned around.
She seemed to have come to a realization, something that set her at complete peace even here in the reality she had been forced back into. Stupid me, I reasoned that maybe I had given her a new lease on life that she would cherish.
Stupid me.
.
.
.
That was a week ago now.
There were five total ritual suicides that night, aside from Ellie. All were successful. The first was a young artist who burned herself on a pyre, setting her warehouse studio space aflame. That was the inferno that caught Tom and I in the traffic heap.
My first patient died two days after.
He was a twelve year-old boy suffering from anaphylaxis after eating some mislabeled Chinese food. An epi-pen was administered by his Mom, but it wasn’t enough. We arrived on time and got the epinephrine IV in, however his heart responded in a bizarre fashion.
It began to rapidly slow with the increasing dose. He wasn’t just dying, it was like I was killing him. He died so fast it took his Mom two minutes to realize. The longest two minutes of my life.
One is a fluke but six are a pattern.
Five more of my patients would die, some with completely non life-threatening conditions. My supervisor comforted me after the first but things darkened quickly from there. Despite the fact that I was investigated and could not have done anything different, I was suspended indefinitely.
It took me almost a week to find Ellie.
From the hospital they bounced her between a few psych wards until landing her at one for, how shall we say, the more intense cases. Despite this their windows were not barred, just thick and secured tight with a latch. Something told me hers would be unlocked. It was.
She’s sleeping. Been this way for the last hour.
I’ve gripped and released the knife in my pocket a hundred times over.
submitted by Positively6thStreet to nosleep [link] [comments]
Yet I was two weeks into my first full-time ambulance gig and I was still shaking between calls. The three story inferno raging downtown didn’t help, but that’s not where me and my partner Tom were heading.
Prior to this whole clusterfuck our night was quiet. Mostly dealing with confused dementia patients and burgeoning (harmless) schizophrenics. The MO is either to find their medicine, or transport them to the hospital. Most of our calls were like this, low stakes, right in my comfort zone.
But now we were dispatched to a priority two emergency, the kind of call that necessitates the whole lights and sirens deal. Someone called in a possible self-harm situation involving their neighbor. Serious shit, but I had Tom with me. He was a veteran EMT and former cop so I was always in steady hands.
The issue was that that downtown inferno had fucked traffic two solid miles in front and behind us. We hadn’t moved more than ten yards in five minutes, and even though it was protocol to have a police response as well we were still closest by far. We were the front line at that point.
Another minute passed in gridlock before Tom finally blurted it out. “You’ve gotta go alone.” And there really was no other way. Abandoning the ambulance and blocking further firetrucks wasn’t an option. Solo responses were rare, sure, but necessary in desperate circumstances like this.
I knew it was coming, but goddamn was that the last thing I wanted to hear.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to want to. Deep in my heart I would be willing to lay my life down for a patient. I wanted so badly to be that type of cool, methodical mind that entered an emergency situation and eased their patient back from the brink. It just hadn’t come to me yet.
Tom saw this. I’m sure if seconds weren’t the difference between life and death he would’ve given me a five minute pep talk. For now, all he could do was pat my shoulder and smirk. “Knock ‘em alive, kid.”
So out I went. Squeezing myself between the bumper to bumper traffic until I found myself on the correct cross street.
There’s something horrifying in the minutes between their call and your arrival. The feeling creeps in while you’re slipping over broken sidewalks and homeless tents. Realizing you’re the beginning and end of their recovery. It all comes down to you, the practitioner.
To be blunt…you’re God for those few minutes. And God was having a shit time gaining entry.
Someone buzzed me in, but of course apartment 13B was locked. Our response time was already woefully long so waiting for police to break it down was not an option. I went to town using my bump key, prying it open less with finesse and more raw frantic energy.
The door opened to near complete darkness. I saw candles around the corner at the end of the hall, but a whole lot of unknown was between me and there.
Light switches were oddly dead, so my flashlight had to guide my feet. From the little I could see it was a well lived-in apartment, at least two generations had sunk their essences into the carpet.
That’s when the smell hit.
It was familiar. The scent of a man? No. Not exactly. No. It was like my Grandfather’s musk. I hadn’t smelled it since I was in his lap as a kid, but the recall was instantaneous. It made me feel oddly safe. Which lasted only a few seconds considering what I would soon see.
Around the corner there were metric shitton of candles in the living room.
Every surface was covered with them. Weirdly, the wax was melting from every kind of receptacle EXCEPT a candle jar. Bowls, mugs, shot glasses. The source of the musk, no doubt. They cast the entire room in a homemade devilish glow.
They lit my way to the girl I would come to know as Ellie. She was wrapped up in herself in the corner, motionless. Baggy sweats and a white tee hid her frailty at a glance. I rushed to her, set her on her back, and began to triage.
First was the bruising on her neck. Fresh. Must’ve tried some sort of strangulation, but it wasn’t what did her in. So I quickly moved on.
Blood caked her white shirt. I followed it to her wrists. Messy little slashes, but didn’t go deep enough to do real harm. That’s when I noticed the culprit of my lightswitch woes. Sloppily wound duct-tape attaching a FORK to her hand.
Just a foot away from the charred out power outlet.
Jesus Christ she electrocuted herself. Full cardiac arrest. She could’ve died in the seconds it took me to triage.
My hands found position and began compressions irrespective of my panic. I regained some confidence as I found my rhythm, laying the foundation for the AED to work its magic.
The repetitiveness gave me my first moment to take Ellie in.
She was young, maybe even younger than my nineteen year-old sister. Her being in this position seemed so wrong. I could see this face getting drunk at a college party, waiting tables at a diner in town, but not here.
I thought about the second chance I wanted to give her as I continued compressions.
That’s when the room started to feel…warmer. The candle scent now got a bit clearer. It wasn’t the manly musk of my Grandfather, it was an animalistic scent. Dried blood and mange. Something that activated a long buried fight or flight instinct in my primitive genes.
I had to keep on with my compressions though. Even if I had lost track of time. I might’ve been a ways short of two minutes when I decided to cede CPR duties to my AED.
It wasn’t until I unzipped my bag that I realized this was my first time using an AED in the field. I had learned its ins and outs, tested it on course dummies, and seen others use it, but never had I actually been tasked to use it on my own in the field.
I pulled up her shirt and applied the wired pads, again feeling a warmth that sent a bead of sweat down my neck. Finally me, the naive idiot, decided to turn around.
The flames of the candle array now burned twice as bright. They licked high enough to start to uncover the shadows against the walls, revealing scraggly looking wallpaper. No time to admire the setting though.
I waited patiently as the AED robotically counted down and administered the first shock. It picks up heart rhythm automatically, but I still used my fingers to feel her absent pulse directly.
It remained still. No response. Desperate, I re-positioned my fingers as if checking pulses wasn’t the one thing I was supremely confident in.
My fingers wiped some blood from her wrist as I did. Only now did I notice her cuts weren’t at all random…they in fact cut out a symbol in her flesh.
A star? No. It was a pentagram.
But the affirmative BLOOP of the AED took my mind off that fast. It rejiggered her heartbeat, automatically suspending its shocks. Any weirdness I felt came secondary to my resumed chest compressions.
Resuscitation, especially with a faint heartbeat like this, always felt to me like pulling someone out of a quicksand pit. You’re shoulder deep clinging to a couple fingers. Hanging onto that little grip as you try to extract the entire person. If you’re good, that little grip is all you need.
I pumped with that metaphor in my mind’s eye. Laser-focused on my goal. For fifteen seconds I felt like that ideal practitioner I dreamt of being, reeling my patient back from the brink.
Until, I shit you not, the flames gained a life of their own.
At first I thought it was just the ones directly in front of me, but as I spun I realized it animated every live flame. Each one dancing its way towards the ceiling, causing their receptacles to bubble over with wax.
You spend a lifetime watching flames move randomly, flicking with the wind, and I promise you their sudden conscious movements will rattle you deep.
The full red light illuminated what I now realized wasn’t wallpaper…
It was blood-inked writing. Overlapping scrawls of mantras over every wall and even, impossibly, the ceiling. I imagined her crawling like a spider as she wrote Praise be/All Glory to the true One/May his new Kingdom reign. Then finally the one spanning the entire main wall.
May my body serve as his sacrificial lamb.
I suddenly felt like an interloper in a place I should not be, intruding on an ancient ritual. And whatever had its grip on her seemed to be in the room with me now.
The flames kept up their heights so I could take it all in, wax now spilling over onto the floor.
Looking back, I think it was offering me a chance to reconsider what I was doing.
It had its claim on her. But as her practitioner I felt I had an equal claim.
I resumed compressions.
Faster now, desperate to get her back as fast as possible. The flames swirled, seemingly enraged by this development and not letting me forget it.
Yet somehow I was able to separate my technique from my panic-ridden nerves, keeping a tight rhythm for almost a minute before the girl finally snapped upright. The flames dissipated in an instant down to tiny weak flickers.
Her eyes were shut at first, like she was still within a blissful dream. Then her eyes opened to what she seemed to clearly think was a nightmare.
“Where’d he go? Where is he?” She seemed taken by complete surprise, grounding herself back in reality as she pawed at herself. My practiced lines of patient comfort only enraged her.
“You have to let me get back!” With rabid panic she started to stab at her wrists but soon realized it wasn’t the most economical method of returning. I finally regained my composure just as I saw her eyes meet the burned outlet.
I screamed and grabbed at her leg but her hand stretched to reach it. It connected, but unfortunately it seemed she had blown it out completely the last time. No shock administered.
Ellie now kicked me off and stood, searching for a weapon, a way out. It gave me a second to try to reason with her person to person, that practiced bullshit now scared right out of me, but she responded with a level-headed reason that made it feel almost like…
…like she was speaking in my best interest.
“You don’t understand, I’m the last one, he needs me.” She raced across the room to her dresser, rifling through the top drawer. I went to pull her off when she struck me hard, across the face.
It wasn’t a punch to harm, as much as it was a utility swipe. Keeping me away as economically as possible. I was a few feet away when she pulled the knife from the drawer.
There wasn’t any fanfare, no waiting to see the horrified look on my face, she just sliced as fast as she possibly could. I don’t remember if it was two or three good hacks before Tom rushed in to tackle her.
In one swoop he was able to pin her while cleanly plucking the blade from her grip. Blood pooled as he steadied her flailing arms with ease, getting the one she had sliced into the open.
“You okay?” Once we had established that I was at least physically unharmed I got back to work wrapping her wrist, stopping the brunt of the blood flow. Tom reinstated order to my rapidly deteriorating nightmare.
As much as she wailed and cried in that first minute, she settled completely as she was padded up and restrained for transport. Her dead eyes followed me back and forth around the room as I spoke to the arriving police. Burning into my scalp even when I turned around.
She seemed to have come to a realization, something that set her at complete peace even here in the reality she had been forced back into. Stupid me, I reasoned that maybe I had given her a new lease on life that she would cherish.
Stupid me.
.
.
.
That was a week ago now.
There were five total ritual suicides that night, aside from Ellie. All were successful. The first was a young artist who burned herself on a pyre, setting her warehouse studio space aflame. That was the inferno that caught Tom and I in the traffic heap.
My first patient died two days after.
He was a twelve year-old boy suffering from anaphylaxis after eating some mislabeled Chinese food. An epi-pen was administered by his Mom, but it wasn’t enough. We arrived on time and got the epinephrine IV in, however his heart responded in a bizarre fashion.
It began to rapidly slow with the increasing dose. He wasn’t just dying, it was like I was killing him. He died so fast it took his Mom two minutes to realize. The longest two minutes of my life.
One is a fluke but six are a pattern.
Five more of my patients would die, some with completely non life-threatening conditions. My supervisor comforted me after the first but things darkened quickly from there. Despite the fact that I was investigated and could not have done anything different, I was suspended indefinitely.
It took me almost a week to find Ellie.
From the hospital they bounced her between a few psych wards until landing her at one for, how shall we say, the more intense cases. Despite this their windows were not barred, just thick and secured tight with a latch. Something told me hers would be unlocked. It was.
She’s sleeping. Been this way for the last hour.
I’ve gripped and released the knife in my pocket a hundred times over.
2023.06.07 17:57 o0GuinnessTour0o [US-CA][H]Paypal[W]Old SP SA keycap sets/Grab bags
I’m looking for old SP SA keycap sets and Grab bags(runned before 2020). Please drop me a message if you have any. Thanks.
submitted by o0GuinnessTour0o to mechmarket [link] [comments]
2023.06.07 17:55 trivari got my first juicy finally 🥹 for such a good price too
 | submitted by trivari to JuicyCouture [link] [comments] |
2023.06.07 17:48 Emergency-Row-1252 Realizing my BF is abusive
Posted from a throwaway account, sorry just need this off my chest
"I've been trying to be patient with you for two years" is what my bf says to me while we are fighting. We have an 8m old daughter. I spent most of the last 2 years making him a child and caring for her. I had a horrible pregnancy and am also newly disabled due to a back injury and in constant pain. He has given me no thought to being post partum, I definitely had PPD and have recently been diagnosed with PMDD (my period makes me insane). In this time I have been very messed up in the head. The baby also wasn't letting me sleep and I hadn't slept right most of my pregnancy. He has told me I'm constantly mean, I'm horrible to him, have I ever loved him, everything I say is so angry. He has broken my self esteem to nothing. I hate myself so much because apparently I'm the worst. I'd be crying my eyes out and he'd come and tell me how horrible I've been as I literally beg him to stop saying these things because I can't handle them.
In this time I almost checked myself in to the BHU multiple times. But how do I as a mom find time to do that? I have so many responsibilities? The times I was legit about to go he told me "let me just go get a knife from the kitchen and you can just stab me then" and "great so we are gonna go to jail?" which didn't even make sense and he never explained, just saying shit to gas light me really.
When we fight I am constantly trying to get away from him because he won't stop coming to scream at me. I'm bawling my eyes out begging him to stop and he just keeps coming. On occasions I have literally left the house to get away, just walked. He has tried to follow me before, he has told me he will just go crash the car, let's just both go crash the car?
The one time I returned home to find he had smashed his head into the door plexiglass and broke it. Then into the bathroom door where there is a giant smashed hole there now. We rent.
If I don't leave, I often lock myself in the bathroom to cry. He will usually come and scream at me over and over to try and get me to come out of the bathroom. At this point I don't want to exist. He has literally dragged me out physically against my will. This he later realized on his own he crossed a line.
Every time I tell him to leave to go cool off it's I'm telling him to leave forever. He's packed his bags multiple times.
Apparently every single thing I say is constantly filled with seething rage, couldn't be that he perceives it that way just like when I sometimes say he is yelling he says he isn't. Just like I'm not allowed to assume and he says I don't communicate. But he's allowed to not tell me shit and assume all he wants. Never a problem.
He takes it out on me trouble with money or his job. The one huge fight we recently had was started because I was discussing wedding shit. Which we had literally been talking about the night before no issue. But now it was for some reason the end of the world and I was mad and guilt tripping him about not having money. I was mad because he hadn't responded to anything I had said and he was ignoring me.
I'm also not allowed to be upset that he barely helps me with any chores around the house and makes a mess like a teenager that I'm constantly following around to clean up. Think: leaves the jelly, pb and bread out and open when he makes a sandwich. I'm disabled, cleaning is very draining but here I am doing it. I make a to-do list which is on the fridge so he can't miss it. Nothing is ever done on it. I have to ask and even then it's a we will see. The kids are bad but it's not always that. He uses his ADHD as an excuse. I have ADHD too and while I understand we are not all the same I just don't find it an excuse.
"This is why I can't get a job because every time I do you pull me away from it" because I said we were going to my mothers while he is at work and he assumed I had another ride but our car. Because I asked him to come home months ago because the baby wouldn't stop screaming and I couldn't handle anymore (I'm disabled, too much pain). Makes me feel worthless for being disabled.
"I'm doing so much and it's never enough you just want more more more" because I expect him to do basic life duties like parent, a job or cleaning. And I really don't even expect that much but I have an autistic son who is very severe and sometimes a lot of work. He says it's fine but then he makes me feel like shit other time. Also being disabled, I hate not being able to do for myself and he knows that. (But I do still do a lot, I do almost all the cleaning or it would never get done. I do almost all the grocery shopping, planning, budgeting etc and a lot of the cooking still. I'm constantly pushing myself into pain and past my ability to do what needs done)
This morning I had to threaten to call the cops to get him to leave and stop screaming. He kicked over and partially broke one of the baby gates.
Sorry this is all over the place and TLDR.
Just don't know what to do anymore.
submitted by Emergency-Row-1252 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
"I've been trying to be patient with you for two years" is what my bf says to me while we are fighting. We have an 8m old daughter. I spent most of the last 2 years making him a child and caring for her. I had a horrible pregnancy and am also newly disabled due to a back injury and in constant pain. He has given me no thought to being post partum, I definitely had PPD and have recently been diagnosed with PMDD (my period makes me insane). In this time I have been very messed up in the head. The baby also wasn't letting me sleep and I hadn't slept right most of my pregnancy. He has told me I'm constantly mean, I'm horrible to him, have I ever loved him, everything I say is so angry. He has broken my self esteem to nothing. I hate myself so much because apparently I'm the worst. I'd be crying my eyes out and he'd come and tell me how horrible I've been as I literally beg him to stop saying these things because I can't handle them.
In this time I almost checked myself in to the BHU multiple times. But how do I as a mom find time to do that? I have so many responsibilities? The times I was legit about to go he told me "let me just go get a knife from the kitchen and you can just stab me then" and "great so we are gonna go to jail?" which didn't even make sense and he never explained, just saying shit to gas light me really.
When we fight I am constantly trying to get away from him because he won't stop coming to scream at me. I'm bawling my eyes out begging him to stop and he just keeps coming. On occasions I have literally left the house to get away, just walked. He has tried to follow me before, he has told me he will just go crash the car, let's just both go crash the car?
The one time I returned home to find he had smashed his head into the door plexiglass and broke it. Then into the bathroom door where there is a giant smashed hole there now. We rent.
If I don't leave, I often lock myself in the bathroom to cry. He will usually come and scream at me over and over to try and get me to come out of the bathroom. At this point I don't want to exist. He has literally dragged me out physically against my will. This he later realized on his own he crossed a line.
Every time I tell him to leave to go cool off it's I'm telling him to leave forever. He's packed his bags multiple times.
Apparently every single thing I say is constantly filled with seething rage, couldn't be that he perceives it that way just like when I sometimes say he is yelling he says he isn't. Just like I'm not allowed to assume and he says I don't communicate. But he's allowed to not tell me shit and assume all he wants. Never a problem.
He takes it out on me trouble with money or his job. The one huge fight we recently had was started because I was discussing wedding shit. Which we had literally been talking about the night before no issue. But now it was for some reason the end of the world and I was mad and guilt tripping him about not having money. I was mad because he hadn't responded to anything I had said and he was ignoring me.
I'm also not allowed to be upset that he barely helps me with any chores around the house and makes a mess like a teenager that I'm constantly following around to clean up. Think: leaves the jelly, pb and bread out and open when he makes a sandwich. I'm disabled, cleaning is very draining but here I am doing it. I make a to-do list which is on the fridge so he can't miss it. Nothing is ever done on it. I have to ask and even then it's a we will see. The kids are bad but it's not always that. He uses his ADHD as an excuse. I have ADHD too and while I understand we are not all the same I just don't find it an excuse.
"This is why I can't get a job because every time I do you pull me away from it" because I said we were going to my mothers while he is at work and he assumed I had another ride but our car. Because I asked him to come home months ago because the baby wouldn't stop screaming and I couldn't handle anymore (I'm disabled, too much pain). Makes me feel worthless for being disabled.
"I'm doing so much and it's never enough you just want more more more" because I expect him to do basic life duties like parent, a job or cleaning. And I really don't even expect that much but I have an autistic son who is very severe and sometimes a lot of work. He says it's fine but then he makes me feel like shit other time. Also being disabled, I hate not being able to do for myself and he knows that. (But I do still do a lot, I do almost all the cleaning or it would never get done. I do almost all the grocery shopping, planning, budgeting etc and a lot of the cooking still. I'm constantly pushing myself into pain and past my ability to do what needs done)
This morning I had to threaten to call the cops to get him to leave and stop screaming. He kicked over and partially broke one of the baby gates.
Sorry this is all over the place and TLDR.
Just don't know what to do anymore.
2023.06.07 17:45 pakialamarites Mom took my nudes
Throwaway because obvious.
My then fiance and I are sexually active. We love each other and have adventures in bed to help us feel closer together and passionate about each other.
One time we decided to take intimate instax photos of me. Because we weren't married and lived apart, it was a way for us to get turned on: for him to look at when we're not together and for me to know he's holding naked pictures of me with him. He was the one who kept them.
Fast forward, we got married and began the process of moving in together. My family helped me move because they wanted to see our new home and because the car would help transport my stuff. They also tried helping us tidy up a bit.
My mom volunteered to put all of our bags in a box so they weren't scattered all over (I think you know where I'm going with these).
Things were uneventful for the most part until they were about to leave. My mom cornered me (husband was back in my old apartment for the last trip) and whispered: "Sabihin mo sa asawa mo 'wag kang babuyin." And flashed one of my nudes in front of me. I tried to grab it but she pulled back and walked out the door. I didn't have a chance to react.
I messaged her later that it was an absolute invasion of privacy, that everything was consensual, that what happens in my bedroom is not anyone's business, and she should give back what she stole. I checked the bag and saw that she took all three instax photos from a zippered-shut pocket of my husband's bag.
She told me I had "the nerve" to accuse here of stealing. She also said that opening and taking things out of bags were standard practice. She also said that the zipper was open (husband was sure that it was closed because obvious), which doesn't even matter.
She insists that she was trying to protect me and that it was disrespectful to me as a woman. Lastly she said: "kung ang pagpo-protekta sa'yo and pagpigil ng pambabastos sa'yo ay pagnanakaw, sige na, ninakawan na kita," which I think is classic gaslighting.
I hate that I still defended her and rationalized her actions by saying that she's from a different generation and upbringing. But at the end of the day, nanghimasok at nagnakaw siya. Dagdag pa 'yong guilt-tripping niya na kesyo ginagawa niya lahat ng 'yon para sa'kin. Buti daw hindi tatay ko or mga kapatid ko nakakita kasi ano na daw iisipin. Sabi ko hindi nila 'yon makikita kung hindi sila mangingialam ng bag ng may bag.
Nakakagalit kasi 'yong private life ko, bagay na in-enjoy namin ng asawa ko, pinapalabas niya na mali. We love each other. We are passionate with one another. Kung hindi 'yon trip ng nanay ko, 'wag niyang isubsob 'yong nineteen kopong kopong niyang paniniwala sa'kin.
I was so relieved that I have a kind and supporting husband that respects me, my interests, my freedom, and my kinks. Pero nakakatakot na hanggang ngayon pala gusto pa rin ng magulang ko hawak nila ako sa leeg.
Putang ina.
submitted by pakialamarites to OffMyChestPH [link] [comments]
My then fiance and I are sexually active. We love each other and have adventures in bed to help us feel closer together and passionate about each other.
One time we decided to take intimate instax photos of me. Because we weren't married and lived apart, it was a way for us to get turned on: for him to look at when we're not together and for me to know he's holding naked pictures of me with him. He was the one who kept them.
Fast forward, we got married and began the process of moving in together. My family helped me move because they wanted to see our new home and because the car would help transport my stuff. They also tried helping us tidy up a bit.
My mom volunteered to put all of our bags in a box so they weren't scattered all over (I think you know where I'm going with these).
Things were uneventful for the most part until they were about to leave. My mom cornered me (husband was back in my old apartment for the last trip) and whispered: "Sabihin mo sa asawa mo 'wag kang babuyin." And flashed one of my nudes in front of me. I tried to grab it but she pulled back and walked out the door. I didn't have a chance to react.
I messaged her later that it was an absolute invasion of privacy, that everything was consensual, that what happens in my bedroom is not anyone's business, and she should give back what she stole. I checked the bag and saw that she took all three instax photos from a zippered-shut pocket of my husband's bag.
She told me I had "the nerve" to accuse here of stealing. She also said that opening and taking things out of bags were standard practice. She also said that the zipper was open (husband was sure that it was closed because obvious), which doesn't even matter.
She insists that she was trying to protect me and that it was disrespectful to me as a woman. Lastly she said: "kung ang pagpo-protekta sa'yo and pagpigil ng pambabastos sa'yo ay pagnanakaw, sige na, ninakawan na kita," which I think is classic gaslighting.
I hate that I still defended her and rationalized her actions by saying that she's from a different generation and upbringing. But at the end of the day, nanghimasok at nagnakaw siya. Dagdag pa 'yong guilt-tripping niya na kesyo ginagawa niya lahat ng 'yon para sa'kin. Buti daw hindi tatay ko or mga kapatid ko nakakita kasi ano na daw iisipin. Sabi ko hindi nila 'yon makikita kung hindi sila mangingialam ng bag ng may bag.
Nakakagalit kasi 'yong private life ko, bagay na in-enjoy namin ng asawa ko, pinapalabas niya na mali. We love each other. We are passionate with one another. Kung hindi 'yon trip ng nanay ko, 'wag niyang isubsob 'yong nineteen kopong kopong niyang paniniwala sa'kin.
I was so relieved that I have a kind and supporting husband that respects me, my interests, my freedom, and my kinks. Pero nakakatakot na hanggang ngayon pala gusto pa rin ng magulang ko hawak nila ako sa leeg.
Putang ina.
2023.06.07 17:43 tallcelthrowaway I am a 6'8" involuntary celibate, ask me anything
Mostly here to highlight that height has nothing to do with finding love. A bit of my background:
Had a series of medical procedures from ages 11-13 that included a long stint of opiate prescriptions, resulting in addiction (bought from a fellow highschooler who stole them from family once my scripts ran out) - long term side effects: weight gain, inability to experience joy, ptosis (lazy eyelid), etc.
Had a severely debilitating bad trip on an overdose of Salvia at the age of 14 that permanently changed my mental state to one of paranoia and existential doom
Attempted suicide that same year after a bad breakup
The girl I lost my virginity to suffered from a plethora of mental illnesses including BPD (unbeknownst to me at the time), threatened to baby trap me, forced me to separate from all female friends (specifically, by calling them while on a call with her and telling them I don't want to speak to them anymore, resulting in one of those friends attempting suicide), cheated on me and came to my house banging on every door and window after we broke up (also likely slashed my tires, though I could never prove it was her)
Drank daily from ages 21-22
Ruined three long-term relationships due to my behaviors that I later learned were from undiagnosed SchizoAffective BiPolar Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (hereforth SABPD and GAD)
Unable to sleep more than 5 hours a night from ages 19-27 (despite giving up caffeine completely), resulting in worsened mood and anxiety and seemingly permanent dark bags under my eyes (though thanks to my current medication regimen I now sleep normally)
Completely alone during college due to struggles with mental illness and my only friends moving out of state
Currently living with parents in the house I was emotionally, verbally, and on some occasions, physically abused in as a child because the house I owned flooded
No hobbies or interests that would allow me to naturally meet women, don't visit bars (still abstinent from alcohol), only 6 friends - none of whom have single friends looking for a relationship to introduce me to
Ghosted by every dating app match since I began treatment for SABPD and GAD (not sure what the correlation is there, I did ok before diagnosis + treatment)
Went through a 2 year daily ketamine addiction and one attempted suicide by overdose
Underwent 1 year of counseling with a therapist, still see a psychiatrist monthly for prescriptions, went to the gym for 2.5 hours every other day for 6 months, developed muscle tone and slimmed down, no impact on dating success, hiked twice a week for 6 months after that with no affect on depression/relationship success
Had a relationship end via my girlfriend and I being invited to join a D&D campaign, wherein my partner fell in love with and subsequently left me for and married the DM, which broke my self esteem for a long time (this has since been at least partially repaired through therapy)
And here I am today, 31 years old, no relationship in 3 years, just a perpetual series of ghosts. I get through the days with miniature painting, gaming, reading, writing (working on a sci-fi novel as publishing a book is on my bucketlist), knowledgetube (think: VSauce), kratom (to stave off opiate and ketamine cravings) and weekly hiking. I've also recently taken up dip making, which I would strongly recommend to anyone with even a tangential interest in cooking as it is surprisingly fun and fulfilling. I'm currently on a break from dating apps as they were chronically worsening my depression. I've consulted with therapists, friends that are married couples, family, and even employees of dating app companies. I don't blame or hate women for losing interest as no one is entitled to love, but it hurts that none of them have wanted to just remain friends or end things gently - I can't trust any of my judgments that stem from paranoia (due to SABPD), but I almost wonder if one of my exes (from relationships prior to my treatment/therapy) is messaging girls I friend on social media to stay away from me. My primary care physician regularly recommends that I read books on stoicism but I've tried to put that off for as long as possible, though I'm now more of the mind that it's unlikely I'll find a lasting, loving relationship in the ~40 years I have left so it's best to accept that and embrace the stoic lifestyle.
Thank you for reading this far. AMA.
submitted by tallcelthrowaway to casualiama [link] [comments]
Had a series of medical procedures from ages 11-13 that included a long stint of opiate prescriptions, resulting in addiction (bought from a fellow highschooler who stole them from family once my scripts ran out) - long term side effects: weight gain, inability to experience joy, ptosis (lazy eyelid), etc.
Had a severely debilitating bad trip on an overdose of Salvia at the age of 14 that permanently changed my mental state to one of paranoia and existential doom
Attempted suicide that same year after a bad breakup
The girl I lost my virginity to suffered from a plethora of mental illnesses including BPD (unbeknownst to me at the time), threatened to baby trap me, forced me to separate from all female friends (specifically, by calling them while on a call with her and telling them I don't want to speak to them anymore, resulting in one of those friends attempting suicide), cheated on me and came to my house banging on every door and window after we broke up (also likely slashed my tires, though I could never prove it was her)
Drank daily from ages 21-22
Ruined three long-term relationships due to my behaviors that I later learned were from undiagnosed SchizoAffective BiPolar Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (hereforth SABPD and GAD)
Unable to sleep more than 5 hours a night from ages 19-27 (despite giving up caffeine completely), resulting in worsened mood and anxiety and seemingly permanent dark bags under my eyes (though thanks to my current medication regimen I now sleep normally)
Completely alone during college due to struggles with mental illness and my only friends moving out of state
Currently living with parents in the house I was emotionally, verbally, and on some occasions, physically abused in as a child because the house I owned flooded
No hobbies or interests that would allow me to naturally meet women, don't visit bars (still abstinent from alcohol), only 6 friends - none of whom have single friends looking for a relationship to introduce me to
Ghosted by every dating app match since I began treatment for SABPD and GAD (not sure what the correlation is there, I did ok before diagnosis + treatment)
Went through a 2 year daily ketamine addiction and one attempted suicide by overdose
Underwent 1 year of counseling with a therapist, still see a psychiatrist monthly for prescriptions, went to the gym for 2.5 hours every other day for 6 months, developed muscle tone and slimmed down, no impact on dating success, hiked twice a week for 6 months after that with no affect on depression/relationship success
Had a relationship end via my girlfriend and I being invited to join a D&D campaign, wherein my partner fell in love with and subsequently left me for and married the DM, which broke my self esteem for a long time (this has since been at least partially repaired through therapy)
And here I am today, 31 years old, no relationship in 3 years, just a perpetual series of ghosts. I get through the days with miniature painting, gaming, reading, writing (working on a sci-fi novel as publishing a book is on my bucketlist), knowledgetube (think: VSauce), kratom (to stave off opiate and ketamine cravings) and weekly hiking. I've also recently taken up dip making, which I would strongly recommend to anyone with even a tangential interest in cooking as it is surprisingly fun and fulfilling. I'm currently on a break from dating apps as they were chronically worsening my depression. I've consulted with therapists, friends that are married couples, family, and even employees of dating app companies. I don't blame or hate women for losing interest as no one is entitled to love, but it hurts that none of them have wanted to just remain friends or end things gently - I can't trust any of my judgments that stem from paranoia (due to SABPD), but I almost wonder if one of my exes (from relationships prior to my treatment/therapy) is messaging girls I friend on social media to stay away from me. My primary care physician regularly recommends that I read books on stoicism but I've tried to put that off for as long as possible, though I'm now more of the mind that it's unlikely I'll find a lasting, loving relationship in the ~40 years I have left so it's best to accept that and embrace the stoic lifestyle.
Thank you for reading this far. AMA.
2023.06.07 17:33 tallcelthrowaway I am a 6'8" involuntary celibate, ask me anything
Mostly here to highlight that height has nothing to do with finding love. A bit of my background:
Thank you for reading this far. AMA.
submitted by tallcelthrowaway to AMA [link] [comments]
- Had a series of medical procedures from ages 11-13 that included a long stint of opiate prescriptions, resulting in addiction (bought from a fellow highschooler who stole them from family once my scripts ran out) - long term side effects: weight gain, inability to experience joy, ptosis (lazy eyelid), etc.
- Had a severely debilitating bad trip on an overdose of Salvia at the age of 14 that permanently changed my mental state to one of paranoia and existential doom
- Attempted suicide that same year after a bad breakup
- The girl I lost my virginity to suffered from a plethora of mental illnesses including BPD (unbeknownst to me at the time), threatened to baby trap me, forced me to separate from all female friends (specifically, by calling them while on a call with her and telling them I don't want to speak to them anymore, resulting in one of those friends attempting suicide), cheated on me and came to my house banging on every door and window after we broke up (also likely slashed my tires, though I could never prove it was her)
- Drank daily from ages 21-22
- Ruined three long-term relationships due to my behaviors that I later learned were from undiagnosed SchizoAffective BiPolar Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (hereforth SABPD and GAD)
- Unable to sleep more than 5 hours a night from ages 19-27 (despite giving up caffeine completely), resulting in worsened mood and anxiety and seemingly permanent dark bags under my eyes (though thanks to my current medication regimen I now sleep normally)
- Completely alone during college due to struggles with mental illness and my only friends moving out of state
- Currently living with parents in the house I was emotionally, verbally, and on some occasions, physically abused in as a child because the house I owned flooded
- No hobbies or interests that would allow me to naturally meet women, don't visit bars (still abstinent from alcohol), only 6 friends - none of whom have single friends looking for a relationship to introduce me to
- Ghosted by every dating app match since I began treatment for SABPD and GAD (not sure what the correlation is there, I did ok before diagnosis + treatment)
- Went through a 2 year daily ketamine addiction and one attempted suicide by overdose
- Underwent 1 year of counseling with a therapist, still see a psychiatrist monthly for prescriptions, went to the gym for 2.5 hours every other day for 6 months, developed muscle tone and slimmed down, no impact on dating success, hiked twice a week for 6 months after that with no affect on depression/relationship success
- Had a relationship end via my girlfriend and I being invited to join a D&D campaign, wherein my partner fell in love with and subsequently left me for and married the DM, which broke my self esteem for a long time (this has since been at least partially repaired through therapy)
Thank you for reading this far. AMA.
2023.06.07 17:31 ConsciousFroyo5259 Need some help/advice starting
I’m a 17 year old high school male in the summer between my junior and senior year. Currently, I don’t have a lot of money but I’m going to work a summer job. The pay isn’t amazing but it’s what I have. Anyway, I’m looking to start boxing. I already bought gloves and wraps and I’ve already gone to a session at my local mma gym. Boxing is something I really want to get into but being a broke high schooler, the price tag for it looks daunting . I really want to make it work, but, things like school, extracurriculars, and having somewhat of a social life my senior year seem like they will be in the way plus the price tag for it. So, I guess I’m just looking for advice and help to make it work for me. How often do I need to hit up the gym or a coach? Do I need to even go to a gym or coach at all? How good can I get if I don’t do those things at all and just do bag work by myself?
submitted by ConsciousFroyo5259 to amateur_boxing [link] [comments]
2023.06.07 17:13 endersgame69 Kayobi's Days Off C19
Maybe it was the presence of human emotions of this sort… this ‘pity’ thing was kind of new to me. I know, I know, you might be wondering, ‘Didn’t you pity Suki?’ or ‘Didn’t you pity Jin?’ and the answer is ‘no’. Maybe if things got worse for them, but Suki was alive and Jin was still in school, they weren’t at what humans call ‘Rock Bottom’ yet, so why would I feel pity?
But stealing snacks and working for someone who loathes you to buy old bento while wearing dirty clothes and living in a body they had to know was kind of bad smelling? Maybe things could have been worse but… well if it got worse that didn’t mean they weren’t at rock bottom, it just meant that they were at rock bottom when somebody handed them a stick of T.N.T. like out of one of those old cartoons so they could blast their way down deeper.
So yeah, yeah I pitied the boy, which probably was obvious and probably made him feel worse. But then again he did pick on Jin and so I wasn’t too concerned about him feeling bad about eating pity-bento.
Jin showed up about two hours prior to closing, a smile on his face, he was clearly increasingly happy in the last few days, and this was no exception. “Thanks again, Kayobi! I’ll lock up!” He said and waited while I bought snacks for myself.
“Sure thing, see you tomorrow.” I promised, and went back to my apartment.
I immediately turned on the television and tossed my snacks on the coffee table sitting in front of my plushy, soft couch, and after a moment’s consideration I decided, after putting on my pajamas, I would make Asahi’s life just a little bit easier.
I gathered my dirty clothing and threw it into an old green laundry bag I’d acquired, along with a few single-use detergent packets, then put the little box of trash bags out on the countertop for him to easily find, right next to the dish soap. I had almost no dishes, but there were some plastic ones I sort of kept and reused.
And that was that. I teleported my snacks into my hand and flopped myself on the couch, leaving the door cracked open so that Asahi would know I was there and couldn’t later pretend he knocked and nobody was home or something equally absurd.
I did have my doubts about his arrival, would he show or not show? I looked at my chocolate cream cookies and my bag of melon chips and licked my lips. I chose to have a little fun with it.
I stacked up my cookies, ten high. Then I set out a few handfuls of chips on the table and checked my phone. He had ten minutes. “Alright, if he shows up, I eat you.” I pointed at the cookies. “If he doesn’t show up, I eat you.”
“Nooo…” I gave the cookies and chips voices, and messed around with making them protest their pending consumption.
“I’m sorry, cookies and chips, but you are made of deliciousness, and Kayobi must consume to be content. But worry not, for you will live on in memory, no matter what happens, bear it bravely, and you need die but once.” I said and made a dramatic half bow to my snacks before laughing at my silly game and turning on the show to watch a boy getting flung around by a lamia’s tail as he tried to bear her…superabundant…affections.
I liked this show a lot, the characters were fun with all their silly romantic hijinks, I really felt the haphazard struggles of the male lead, but of all of them, Smith was my favorite. Doing all she could to avoid work at every turn…
I don’t know, something about her just spoke to my soul.
So I watched the story unfold as he was nearly choked, accidentally did some no-no touching thanks to her poor directions while he was blindfolded, and otherwise just had his life turned upside down.
And while I watched I took a look at the food menu for a delivery place. Before I could order anything or even make a decision, there was a knock at my door.
It opened a crack, and I said, “If you’re a Yakuza hitman, I’ll murder you, but if you’re Asahi, good timing, come on in.” I didn’t bother looking toward the door.
“H-Hi… ah… Yakuza hitman?” He asked, his boldness was completely gone from him, and he now seemed a lot smaller to me as he slipped in the door without even opening it all the way.
I snorted and gave a dismissive wave, “It’s an inside joke, don’t worry about it.” I proceeded to reach for the cookies and popped the top one into my mouth, and while my left cheek was puffed out I said, “Here’s the deal, Asahi, I hate chores. So you can do them for me to pay me back. Start with my laundry, and by the way, there’s enough detergent for ‘extra’ loads. If you happen to use it all up while washing some of your own, fine. Don’t care, just get mine done.”
I then pointed to the green bag sitting against the wall. “But don’t do anything pervy with my underwear. I watch your shows, and this is not one of your ecchi programs.” I glowered at him, and the young man blushed a bright crimson in his face.
“I-I wouldn’t! I-” He tried to protest, but I cut him off.
“Don’t worry about it. After you’re done, there’s some dishes to do and some cleanup here in the living area. Get that handled, and by then, well I’m about to order dinner, if you want the leftovers, that’s fine. Then we’ll call it square for today. Questions?” I asked, and when his stomach rumbled, I threw another cookie in my mouth.
He was all but salivating. “Yeah… I… I got it.” He murmured.
“Then get to it, and I’ll see you in about two hours.” I said, and then went back to watching my show while he went to do my laundry.
The door closed behind him, and you know something?
I’d never felt so bad about anything in all my life. Never. Not once. I looked at the remaining stack of cookies and chips, “I am afraid, since the goddess of your world is kind of an evil monarch, there will be no clemency for any of you. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately.” I said to my food, and tossed them cookie by cookie and chip by chip into my mouth with crunch after crunch continuing until such time as the whole of my doomed snacktopian subjects were quite devoured.
But they hadn’t tasted good.
It was more like ashes in my mouth than explosive tastiness.
I felt like the Yakuza bosses by exploiting Suki and who knew how many others around Shinjai. Or like I’d kicked a damn puppy for chewing on a shoe. Alright, what Asahi had done was bad, but I’d already punished him and he’d seemingly stopped.
“Stars above… he is just a kid, don’t kick him while he’s already down, Kayobi.” I told myself and contemplated my now devoid execution square where all the chips and cookies were sacrificed on the altar of my divine laziness.
As I watched the protagonist start to drown in the mermaid’s pool, I selected an order for pizza from my phone. I ordered some from a local chain, Aoki’s, and one from a popular American one, Domino’s. I used a few coupons to get some freebies thrown in, and then that was that.
It was only a matter of time before that got here, and Asahi got back, and then maybe my food would stop tasting bad. Evidently treating people badly ruins meals, even if they deserve it. “Hmpf. Who knew?” I rolled my eyes at my own question, stretched out, and resumed watching the nigh invincible protagonist suffer every kind of indignant injury, and I laughed the entire time.
submitted by endersgame69 to TheWorldMaker [link] [comments]
But stealing snacks and working for someone who loathes you to buy old bento while wearing dirty clothes and living in a body they had to know was kind of bad smelling? Maybe things could have been worse but… well if it got worse that didn’t mean they weren’t at rock bottom, it just meant that they were at rock bottom when somebody handed them a stick of T.N.T. like out of one of those old cartoons so they could blast their way down deeper.
So yeah, yeah I pitied the boy, which probably was obvious and probably made him feel worse. But then again he did pick on Jin and so I wasn’t too concerned about him feeling bad about eating pity-bento.
Jin showed up about two hours prior to closing, a smile on his face, he was clearly increasingly happy in the last few days, and this was no exception. “Thanks again, Kayobi! I’ll lock up!” He said and waited while I bought snacks for myself.
“Sure thing, see you tomorrow.” I promised, and went back to my apartment.
I immediately turned on the television and tossed my snacks on the coffee table sitting in front of my plushy, soft couch, and after a moment’s consideration I decided, after putting on my pajamas, I would make Asahi’s life just a little bit easier.
I gathered my dirty clothing and threw it into an old green laundry bag I’d acquired, along with a few single-use detergent packets, then put the little box of trash bags out on the countertop for him to easily find, right next to the dish soap. I had almost no dishes, but there were some plastic ones I sort of kept and reused.
And that was that. I teleported my snacks into my hand and flopped myself on the couch, leaving the door cracked open so that Asahi would know I was there and couldn’t later pretend he knocked and nobody was home or something equally absurd.
I did have my doubts about his arrival, would he show or not show? I looked at my chocolate cream cookies and my bag of melon chips and licked my lips. I chose to have a little fun with it.
I stacked up my cookies, ten high. Then I set out a few handfuls of chips on the table and checked my phone. He had ten minutes. “Alright, if he shows up, I eat you.” I pointed at the cookies. “If he doesn’t show up, I eat you.”
“Nooo…” I gave the cookies and chips voices, and messed around with making them protest their pending consumption.
“I’m sorry, cookies and chips, but you are made of deliciousness, and Kayobi must consume to be content. But worry not, for you will live on in memory, no matter what happens, bear it bravely, and you need die but once.” I said and made a dramatic half bow to my snacks before laughing at my silly game and turning on the show to watch a boy getting flung around by a lamia’s tail as he tried to bear her…superabundant…affections.
I liked this show a lot, the characters were fun with all their silly romantic hijinks, I really felt the haphazard struggles of the male lead, but of all of them, Smith was my favorite. Doing all she could to avoid work at every turn…
I don’t know, something about her just spoke to my soul.
So I watched the story unfold as he was nearly choked, accidentally did some no-no touching thanks to her poor directions while he was blindfolded, and otherwise just had his life turned upside down.
And while I watched I took a look at the food menu for a delivery place. Before I could order anything or even make a decision, there was a knock at my door.
It opened a crack, and I said, “If you’re a Yakuza hitman, I’ll murder you, but if you’re Asahi, good timing, come on in.” I didn’t bother looking toward the door.
“H-Hi… ah… Yakuza hitman?” He asked, his boldness was completely gone from him, and he now seemed a lot smaller to me as he slipped in the door without even opening it all the way.
I snorted and gave a dismissive wave, “It’s an inside joke, don’t worry about it.” I proceeded to reach for the cookies and popped the top one into my mouth, and while my left cheek was puffed out I said, “Here’s the deal, Asahi, I hate chores. So you can do them for me to pay me back. Start with my laundry, and by the way, there’s enough detergent for ‘extra’ loads. If you happen to use it all up while washing some of your own, fine. Don’t care, just get mine done.”
I then pointed to the green bag sitting against the wall. “But don’t do anything pervy with my underwear. I watch your shows, and this is not one of your ecchi programs.” I glowered at him, and the young man blushed a bright crimson in his face.
“I-I wouldn’t! I-” He tried to protest, but I cut him off.
“Don’t worry about it. After you’re done, there’s some dishes to do and some cleanup here in the living area. Get that handled, and by then, well I’m about to order dinner, if you want the leftovers, that’s fine. Then we’ll call it square for today. Questions?” I asked, and when his stomach rumbled, I threw another cookie in my mouth.
He was all but salivating. “Yeah… I… I got it.” He murmured.
“Then get to it, and I’ll see you in about two hours.” I said, and then went back to watching my show while he went to do my laundry.
The door closed behind him, and you know something?
I’d never felt so bad about anything in all my life. Never. Not once. I looked at the remaining stack of cookies and chips, “I am afraid, since the goddess of your world is kind of an evil monarch, there will be no clemency for any of you. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately.” I said to my food, and tossed them cookie by cookie and chip by chip into my mouth with crunch after crunch continuing until such time as the whole of my doomed snacktopian subjects were quite devoured.
But they hadn’t tasted good.
It was more like ashes in my mouth than explosive tastiness.
I felt like the Yakuza bosses by exploiting Suki and who knew how many others around Shinjai. Or like I’d kicked a damn puppy for chewing on a shoe. Alright, what Asahi had done was bad, but I’d already punished him and he’d seemingly stopped.
“Stars above… he is just a kid, don’t kick him while he’s already down, Kayobi.” I told myself and contemplated my now devoid execution square where all the chips and cookies were sacrificed on the altar of my divine laziness.
As I watched the protagonist start to drown in the mermaid’s pool, I selected an order for pizza from my phone. I ordered some from a local chain, Aoki’s, and one from a popular American one, Domino’s. I used a few coupons to get some freebies thrown in, and then that was that.
It was only a matter of time before that got here, and Asahi got back, and then maybe my food would stop tasting bad. Evidently treating people badly ruins meals, even if they deserve it. “Hmpf. Who knew?” I rolled my eyes at my own question, stretched out, and resumed watching the nigh invincible protagonist suffer every kind of indignant injury, and I laughed the entire time.
2023.06.07 17:12 endersgame69 Kayobi's Days Off C18
You know that feeling you get when you first wake up and you don’t remember who you are or if you have a job or if the dream you had was real or if it was just a dream after all?
I love that feeling. If I really needed to, I could have just ‘swapped’ back to my natural body. A swapper only really needs about three hours sleep in what the Earth counts as a twenty-four hour period.
But the problem with that is… swappers don’t naturally experience the same kinds of highs and lows that humans do. We’re not totally without those things of course, but… think of it this way. Humans can go from negative one hundred, to positive one hundred, on a sensory and emotional scale.
A swapper though, we can only go from negative thirty, to positive thirty, for our most extreme emotional states. It’s part of why we have trouble connecting with each other as real friends and comrades, because we just can’t invest that much.
But by becoming ‘human’, I could experience a high of contentment with just existing that was the greatest height possible for my ordinary self.
So I enjoyed my languid awakening, stretching out and yawning, wondering if my dreams were real or not…those really messed with me the first time I had them, by the way, and got myself into a boiling hot shower to start my day.
The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but I was already feeling pretty content. I wore a smile on my face as I soaped up my body and washed away the day before, and basked in the feel of steam rising up around me.
I loved my orangish-reddish hair, the way it felt hanging down against my body when it was wet, the way it blew in the wind when it was dry and outside.
Alright, I’m a pretty hardcore NEET, but damn it, I have a balcony and I can still enjoy that!
I threw on a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt after I was out and dried off and after slipping on my flat shoes I stepped outside and leaned over the metal rail to let the wind pick up my hair. It wasn’t much of a breeze, really, but it was nice enough, the way it stroked my neck and carried the little strands far enough that I could see them out of the corner of my eye, like they were grasping for something just out of reach…
I guess I haven’t really said why I do this… let alone how I ended up coming here of all places. And I’ll tell that story…some day. It’s a bit too much for me to think about, for right now.
But I can tell you the ‘do this’ part. It’s because I was happy. That’s it, that’s all. Just standing there watching the lights in people’s little apartments across the way come on, listening to the noise of people rising to get to work…
Full disclosure, despite coming here for years, I didn’t know most of my neighbors very well. Just the Toriyama family.
Now though, having worked at the store for all of two days, I was growing curious about everybody else. I laughed a little while I stood there, “And here I was thinking I needed to get Celia Norn out of her shell a little, look who’s talking, eh, Kayobi?”
I shook my head, sometimes my own foibles stare me right in the face and I don’t even see them. I still had some time before the store needed to open back up. But even so, I was ready now and… ‘Why not give it one more quick mop job… besides, restocking will be necessary soon.’ I thought. I had told the delivery people ‘when’ to arrive as to a day, but not a specific time.
So down I went to enjoy a pleasant morning, shift and to wait for whatever came my way.
This time of course, I remembered my key.
I rolled my eyes at myself as I unlocked the metal barrier and lifted it up. “You’ll never let go of that, will you, Kayobi?” I asked myself when I heard the click of the lock and opened the door to settle in to work. “No… no you won’t.” I answered myself, but wore a little self-deprecating smile on my face when I went to get the mop and the bucket and make sure the floor was nice and shiny to start the day.
I may not look it in my daily life as a human, but I’m a perfectionist of the highest order, that’s why I’m such a skilled Painter. I have a vast array of species under my belt to change into, and unlike ‘most’ swappers, I can actually combine them to make fictional creatures.
And that perfectionism translated now into helping out this store. I made a few mistakes, sure, but I remembered and learned from them. I immediately went to the phone after mopping and called the vendors and suppliers to schedule a specific hour for them to show up, instead of just ‘any time’ and then it was back to the register.
It was a quiet day. Like most days.
It came and went, my Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. But it was on the fourth day that I got an unexpected surprise.
Tough guy came in. The one who was picking on Jin. Trailing behind him were his two little buddies.
I didn’t feel any guilt about knocking their heads around a bit, they picked on Jin, after all.
But they did not look good. Their clothes were dirty, and they had a very faint smell about them like they hadn’t washed in a while. Now, not every apartment had its own baths, some people still went to bathing houses, but the fact that they had that faint odor to them meant that they hadn’t done so in at least a few days.
Even if they didn’t have baths or showers in their homes, the bath houses were cheap.
So either they didn’t care, or… ‘They can’t afford it.’
I furrowed my brow. I saw the back of the largest boy’s uniform, it still had a grass stain on it that he probably got when I put him on his butt.
They had sullen faces and walked hunched over, their hands shoved in their pockets, they went around the store and checked out the prices. The smaller of the two looked frankly…anxious, after a very short time.
So much so that I began to suspect they were up to something, they stayed behind their larger companion as much as possible, but I had a memory tickle in the back of my head.
An assignment I went on… there was a dictator who was impoverishing his people to build an armada to invade their neighbors. One on a small moon that was barely iron age. One on a world that had just reached what humans call ‘The Age of Sail’ level technology. Both would have been helpless to a fleet invasion.
I’d ventured to the world that was planning the invasion while negotiations were at play to deter it, and while there I witnessed the horrendous poverty of this more or less reptilian people. While in one of their little shops I witnessed a peculiar form of theft. One would walk in front and act as a ‘blocker’ while another person or pair of persons would subtly reach out and take things. The ‘blocker, would then separate from the others who would move out of view, and he would attempt to buy something to distract the clerk.
Then they would leave with more than they paid for.
It was pretty clever in a simplistic sort of way. As long as the three were willing to share the goods, they might even get a fair bit, and if they weren’t caught, they could repeat it a bunch of times.
The one I’d dubbed ‘Bullyboy’ was approaching the bento boxes I’d put together. I expected him to take the more expensive one… but he didn’t.
He went for the sale item, the leftover boxes from the day before were always half off, and while he approached, I looked at his pockets. They had nothing in them that I could see.
I was ready to call them out. In a way, I was itching to say something. I wouldn’t let them steal from the Toriyamas.
He put the bento box down and reached for his wallet. His head was down, the arrogant, cocky, even cruel look on his face from before was gone. He reminded me more of those little reptilian people I saw stealing.
His stomach rumbled.
The two others did too.
“M’a little short…” He mumbled. His wallet was in bad shape too, it was probably older than he was.
His stomach rumbled again. I narrowed my eyes. “I know what you did to Jin.” He took a step back, and the other two in the rear snapped up straight like somebody brought a lash to their backs.
Bullyboy’s eyes widened, his mouth opened. Of course he had no idea it wasn’t Jin that put him and his buddies down, but even so… I hadn’t forgotten.
“And you two… get up here.” I said, looking over his shoulder. “Put the things you were trying to steal, down on the counter.”
I could see the moment of indecision on all three of their faces. “Don’t think I can’t catch you.” I quipped, “Come on. Do it, and I won’t call the police.”
That spurred the two to action, and they shuffled over to me with their heads down and emptied their pockets. Snacks.
Little cheese and meat things, the small stuff and nut packages. Their stomachs rumbled.
“Can I… look… can I just… I don’t know, work… if you’re friends with Jin, I know you don’t like me but… I’m the one that did that…they just did what I said… let them have the box… I’ll do some work around here…” Bullyboy looked very much like he was about to start crying then and there.
Their stomachs rumbled again. “What are your actual names?” I asked.
You know, I’d been on Earth off and on for years now, but what I felt right then, it was a first for me. At least in a ‘real’ sense. I almost didn’t recognize it, thank goodness my vast experience with anime of all genres taught me what it was.
‘Pity.’ I was actually feeling bad for them. They were obviously hungry.
“Kimura…” Bullyboy answered, “Kimura Asahi. My cousins, Rin and Shugo.” He tilted his head first left, then right as he gave their names.
“Alright… Asahi…” I pursed my lips, I could feel that faint tingle on my skin again, like I was getting involved in something, and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my own wallet. “Don’t ask me why I’m doing this. The gods know you don’t deserve it from me, not after what you did to a friend of mine. But… go get two more of those day old bento boxes.”
Asahi moved like a stunned bunny, going over to the side counter and taking the discount white boxes away from their place. I tallied up the snacks and boxes and then tapped my card to cover the cost.
“Consider this… a favor, since you’re willing to do that for your cousins.” I said as the trio looked in stupified wide eyed disbelief at me. “But, you will come to the apartment two zero six at eight thirty tonight so I can tell you how you can pay me back. Do we have a deal?”
“I… I guess… I guess I can do that… but-” Asahi began to answer, but I shoved his stuff into a bag and handed it to him.
“Hurry off to school, you’ll be late.” I said, and watched them leave. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since their last real meal, but that couldn’t have been a good sign. Plus he was willing to give the box over to them.
Maybe he wasn’t all bad the way I thought?
I shrugged off the thought and put my card away, time would tell, it always did. Then I got back to work.
submitted by endersgame69 to TheWorldMaker [link] [comments]
I love that feeling. If I really needed to, I could have just ‘swapped’ back to my natural body. A swapper only really needs about three hours sleep in what the Earth counts as a twenty-four hour period.
But the problem with that is… swappers don’t naturally experience the same kinds of highs and lows that humans do. We’re not totally without those things of course, but… think of it this way. Humans can go from negative one hundred, to positive one hundred, on a sensory and emotional scale.
A swapper though, we can only go from negative thirty, to positive thirty, for our most extreme emotional states. It’s part of why we have trouble connecting with each other as real friends and comrades, because we just can’t invest that much.
But by becoming ‘human’, I could experience a high of contentment with just existing that was the greatest height possible for my ordinary self.
So I enjoyed my languid awakening, stretching out and yawning, wondering if my dreams were real or not…those really messed with me the first time I had them, by the way, and got myself into a boiling hot shower to start my day.
The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but I was already feeling pretty content. I wore a smile on my face as I soaped up my body and washed away the day before, and basked in the feel of steam rising up around me.
I loved my orangish-reddish hair, the way it felt hanging down against my body when it was wet, the way it blew in the wind when it was dry and outside.
Alright, I’m a pretty hardcore NEET, but damn it, I have a balcony and I can still enjoy that!
I threw on a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt after I was out and dried off and after slipping on my flat shoes I stepped outside and leaned over the metal rail to let the wind pick up my hair. It wasn’t much of a breeze, really, but it was nice enough, the way it stroked my neck and carried the little strands far enough that I could see them out of the corner of my eye, like they were grasping for something just out of reach…
I guess I haven’t really said why I do this… let alone how I ended up coming here of all places. And I’ll tell that story…some day. It’s a bit too much for me to think about, for right now.
But I can tell you the ‘do this’ part. It’s because I was happy. That’s it, that’s all. Just standing there watching the lights in people’s little apartments across the way come on, listening to the noise of people rising to get to work…
Full disclosure, despite coming here for years, I didn’t know most of my neighbors very well. Just the Toriyama family.
Now though, having worked at the store for all of two days, I was growing curious about everybody else. I laughed a little while I stood there, “And here I was thinking I needed to get Celia Norn out of her shell a little, look who’s talking, eh, Kayobi?”
I shook my head, sometimes my own foibles stare me right in the face and I don’t even see them. I still had some time before the store needed to open back up. But even so, I was ready now and… ‘Why not give it one more quick mop job… besides, restocking will be necessary soon.’ I thought. I had told the delivery people ‘when’ to arrive as to a day, but not a specific time.
So down I went to enjoy a pleasant morning, shift and to wait for whatever came my way.
This time of course, I remembered my key.
I rolled my eyes at myself as I unlocked the metal barrier and lifted it up. “You’ll never let go of that, will you, Kayobi?” I asked myself when I heard the click of the lock and opened the door to settle in to work. “No… no you won’t.” I answered myself, but wore a little self-deprecating smile on my face when I went to get the mop and the bucket and make sure the floor was nice and shiny to start the day.
I may not look it in my daily life as a human, but I’m a perfectionist of the highest order, that’s why I’m such a skilled Painter. I have a vast array of species under my belt to change into, and unlike ‘most’ swappers, I can actually combine them to make fictional creatures.
And that perfectionism translated now into helping out this store. I made a few mistakes, sure, but I remembered and learned from them. I immediately went to the phone after mopping and called the vendors and suppliers to schedule a specific hour for them to show up, instead of just ‘any time’ and then it was back to the register.
It was a quiet day. Like most days.
It came and went, my Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. But it was on the fourth day that I got an unexpected surprise.
Tough guy came in. The one who was picking on Jin. Trailing behind him were his two little buddies.
I didn’t feel any guilt about knocking their heads around a bit, they picked on Jin, after all.
But they did not look good. Their clothes were dirty, and they had a very faint smell about them like they hadn’t washed in a while. Now, not every apartment had its own baths, some people still went to bathing houses, but the fact that they had that faint odor to them meant that they hadn’t done so in at least a few days.
Even if they didn’t have baths or showers in their homes, the bath houses were cheap.
So either they didn’t care, or… ‘They can’t afford it.’
I furrowed my brow. I saw the back of the largest boy’s uniform, it still had a grass stain on it that he probably got when I put him on his butt.
They had sullen faces and walked hunched over, their hands shoved in their pockets, they went around the store and checked out the prices. The smaller of the two looked frankly…anxious, after a very short time.
So much so that I began to suspect they were up to something, they stayed behind their larger companion as much as possible, but I had a memory tickle in the back of my head.
An assignment I went on… there was a dictator who was impoverishing his people to build an armada to invade their neighbors. One on a small moon that was barely iron age. One on a world that had just reached what humans call ‘The Age of Sail’ level technology. Both would have been helpless to a fleet invasion.
I’d ventured to the world that was planning the invasion while negotiations were at play to deter it, and while there I witnessed the horrendous poverty of this more or less reptilian people. While in one of their little shops I witnessed a peculiar form of theft. One would walk in front and act as a ‘blocker’ while another person or pair of persons would subtly reach out and take things. The ‘blocker, would then separate from the others who would move out of view, and he would attempt to buy something to distract the clerk.
Then they would leave with more than they paid for.
It was pretty clever in a simplistic sort of way. As long as the three were willing to share the goods, they might even get a fair bit, and if they weren’t caught, they could repeat it a bunch of times.
The one I’d dubbed ‘Bullyboy’ was approaching the bento boxes I’d put together. I expected him to take the more expensive one… but he didn’t.
He went for the sale item, the leftover boxes from the day before were always half off, and while he approached, I looked at his pockets. They had nothing in them that I could see.
I was ready to call them out. In a way, I was itching to say something. I wouldn’t let them steal from the Toriyamas.
He put the bento box down and reached for his wallet. His head was down, the arrogant, cocky, even cruel look on his face from before was gone. He reminded me more of those little reptilian people I saw stealing.
His stomach rumbled.
The two others did too.
“M’a little short…” He mumbled. His wallet was in bad shape too, it was probably older than he was.
His stomach rumbled again. I narrowed my eyes. “I know what you did to Jin.” He took a step back, and the other two in the rear snapped up straight like somebody brought a lash to their backs.
Bullyboy’s eyes widened, his mouth opened. Of course he had no idea it wasn’t Jin that put him and his buddies down, but even so… I hadn’t forgotten.
“And you two… get up here.” I said, looking over his shoulder. “Put the things you were trying to steal, down on the counter.”
I could see the moment of indecision on all three of their faces. “Don’t think I can’t catch you.” I quipped, “Come on. Do it, and I won’t call the police.”
That spurred the two to action, and they shuffled over to me with their heads down and emptied their pockets. Snacks.
Little cheese and meat things, the small stuff and nut packages. Their stomachs rumbled.
“Can I… look… can I just… I don’t know, work… if you’re friends with Jin, I know you don’t like me but… I’m the one that did that…they just did what I said… let them have the box… I’ll do some work around here…” Bullyboy looked very much like he was about to start crying then and there.
Their stomachs rumbled again. “What are your actual names?” I asked.
You know, I’d been on Earth off and on for years now, but what I felt right then, it was a first for me. At least in a ‘real’ sense. I almost didn’t recognize it, thank goodness my vast experience with anime of all genres taught me what it was.
‘Pity.’ I was actually feeling bad for them. They were obviously hungry.
“Kimura…” Bullyboy answered, “Kimura Asahi. My cousins, Rin and Shugo.” He tilted his head first left, then right as he gave their names.
“Alright… Asahi…” I pursed my lips, I could feel that faint tingle on my skin again, like I was getting involved in something, and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my own wallet. “Don’t ask me why I’m doing this. The gods know you don’t deserve it from me, not after what you did to a friend of mine. But… go get two more of those day old bento boxes.”
Asahi moved like a stunned bunny, going over to the side counter and taking the discount white boxes away from their place. I tallied up the snacks and boxes and then tapped my card to cover the cost.
“Consider this… a favor, since you’re willing to do that for your cousins.” I said as the trio looked in stupified wide eyed disbelief at me. “But, you will come to the apartment two zero six at eight thirty tonight so I can tell you how you can pay me back. Do we have a deal?”
“I… I guess… I guess I can do that… but-” Asahi began to answer, but I shoved his stuff into a bag and handed it to him.
“Hurry off to school, you’ll be late.” I said, and watched them leave. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since their last real meal, but that couldn’t have been a good sign. Plus he was willing to give the box over to them.
Maybe he wasn’t all bad the way I thought?
I shrugged off the thought and put my card away, time would tell, it always did. Then I got back to work.
2023.06.07 17:11 kkayleebakerr new to this. help and advice
hi there, i appreciate the time anyone is taking to look over this and help me out. im 21 and ive just passed my first year of OCD. im at a loss, i feel to tired and exhausted and defeated.
it started off with a bang, a little over a year ago i spent 2 weeks crying, calling the state health department, doctors, hospitals, family and friends because i was absolutely worried and convinced i had rabies from being about 6 feet away from an opossum. i was diagnosed with ocd at this time. since then, things calmed down dramatically since the "rabies" incident, but are slowly ramping back up. i started getting very clean, deep cleaning every week and every thing on me every time i enter my home after leaving, as if i dont ill convince myself i have some horrible disease on me, just waiting to infect me. my "obsession" i guess has changed over time. disease is probably the number one thing. karma for some reason is a big one too, thinking if i dont always go above and beyond on everything that karma will get me. repetition. i need to check doors, candles, stovetops, garage doors, curling irons 1-3 times on average before i leave every day.
lately i have been under a lot of stress. the home i live in had become somewhat abusive, going to therapy to try and unpack old years of childhood abuse, looking for a new job due to inflation in my city, etc. i dont know if this is why, but my ocd has gone absolutely haywire this past month.
currently, im washing my hands 15-30 times per day. hand sanitizing ontop of that as well. ive started to fear and throw away belongings that i deem as "gross". for some reason cleaning these objects doesnt do anything in my mind, there are still filthy and carry disease. last night i was in a ball on the floor crying because i tried to put my underwear on 4 times, but all 4 times i would take them back off because they werent clean, even though they were. my mind tells me they touched something on the way from my bag to my body that caused them to get this terrible disease on them which i will now get. i cry all the time. this is hell. i went from washing my hair every 2 days to washing 1-2 times per day due to things touching my hair and have legitimately considered cutting my hair off to prevent this stress, but i love my hair. ive thrown away perfectly good food becayse it touched the countertop, my hand, my sleeve, etc. and now has terrible diseases on it.
i cant live like this anymore. my life has been difficult, but this is kicking my ass. im so new to this, medication did nothing but made me feel worse. please help with any advice or things that have helped you. it feels like my life is ruining. i have the most wonderful significant other in the world and im terrified of losing him due to my frequent breakdowns of insanity. its hard to dismiss these things because i am so set on the fact that it is possible i could be giving myself HIV, Rabies, HPV, Herpes etc. please help.
submitted by kkayleebakerr to OCD [link] [comments]
it started off with a bang, a little over a year ago i spent 2 weeks crying, calling the state health department, doctors, hospitals, family and friends because i was absolutely worried and convinced i had rabies from being about 6 feet away from an opossum. i was diagnosed with ocd at this time. since then, things calmed down dramatically since the "rabies" incident, but are slowly ramping back up. i started getting very clean, deep cleaning every week and every thing on me every time i enter my home after leaving, as if i dont ill convince myself i have some horrible disease on me, just waiting to infect me. my "obsession" i guess has changed over time. disease is probably the number one thing. karma for some reason is a big one too, thinking if i dont always go above and beyond on everything that karma will get me. repetition. i need to check doors, candles, stovetops, garage doors, curling irons 1-3 times on average before i leave every day.
lately i have been under a lot of stress. the home i live in had become somewhat abusive, going to therapy to try and unpack old years of childhood abuse, looking for a new job due to inflation in my city, etc. i dont know if this is why, but my ocd has gone absolutely haywire this past month.
currently, im washing my hands 15-30 times per day. hand sanitizing ontop of that as well. ive started to fear and throw away belongings that i deem as "gross". for some reason cleaning these objects doesnt do anything in my mind, there are still filthy and carry disease. last night i was in a ball on the floor crying because i tried to put my underwear on 4 times, but all 4 times i would take them back off because they werent clean, even though they were. my mind tells me they touched something on the way from my bag to my body that caused them to get this terrible disease on them which i will now get. i cry all the time. this is hell. i went from washing my hair every 2 days to washing 1-2 times per day due to things touching my hair and have legitimately considered cutting my hair off to prevent this stress, but i love my hair. ive thrown away perfectly good food becayse it touched the countertop, my hand, my sleeve, etc. and now has terrible diseases on it.
i cant live like this anymore. my life has been difficult, but this is kicking my ass. im so new to this, medication did nothing but made me feel worse. please help with any advice or things that have helped you. it feels like my life is ruining. i have the most wonderful significant other in the world and im terrified of losing him due to my frequent breakdowns of insanity. its hard to dismiss these things because i am so set on the fact that it is possible i could be giving myself HIV, Rabies, HPV, Herpes etc. please help.
2023.06.07 17:03 DavidMoyes Plot Holes in The Story of Moses and the Wise One? A Brief Reply to Apostate Aladdins Video.
Introduction:
Recently, ReasonOnFaith made a post titled: The Story of Moses and the Wise One (often referred to as Khidr): video from Apostate Aladdin.
Within this post, Reason on Faith says:
Before I reply to the video, I want to share why I'm even replying to this after saying I was not interested in doing so at first.
I didn't see this post on my Reddit feed nor did I have any interest in reading it or watching the video and even replying to it.
However, I got notified of it the moment a couple of Ahmadis on that post tagged me and a few others out of the blue to essentially question why we Sunnis are not replying to it.
There was also some other person in the comment section called Redsulphur something who replied to me asking me to watch the video after my comment below that was in response to his post:
The Deception of Apostate Alladin:
Not even 8 minutes into the video this man totally assumes a contradiction and leaves things out to do so.
To prove this, I'm only going to respond to something he says from the minutes 6:50-8:01.
You can watch this part of the video yourself to see if I'm being faithful in transcribing what he says.
Apostate Alladin says:
P1. There are three different versions of the first part of the story.
P2. These three contradict one another.
C: Therefore this is a plot hole.
Let's see if this is true and thankfully Apostate Alladin provides the sources he uses in the description. The first report he shares is Sahih Muslim 2380c and reads as:
But what do we learn from this report?
Apostate Alladin underlines "He was asked" in the screenshot to point out this is a contradiction because the first report doesn't add the details "he was asked" but that he makes the remark.
What we learn from this report is:
Apostate Alladin makes it out like the first part isn't mentioned in this tafsir. However, the link he shares just above it has the same details as the above two reports within it.
See here from the same source he gave in the description: Tafsir Of Surah Al-Kahf: The Story Of Musa And Al-Khidr
Is there really a contradiction between reports 1 and 2?
They both talk about Moses (عليه السلام) addressing his people. The second one just adds before he said his remark that he asked a question. The first one doesn't deny that a question was asked; this was an assumption made by Apostate Alladin to make it seem like a contradiction here. At the same time, he leaves out the bit which shows Moses (عليه السلام) was being humble by asking to be directed to this person.
The problem with Apostate Alladin's approach is he is taking both reports to share all the details and give a word-for-word transcript. Report one even specifically reads as anything but a transcript. See how it reads that Moses said "No person upon the earth has better knowledge than I or nothing better than mine."
The only inconsistency he can argue is with report 3, but even then... that's by a Sahabi!
Not the Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ), and even then... this is a report found in a tafsir, and anyone who is read up on Islam would know they could often contain reports attributed to Sahaba, and the chain of which may not even be authentic.
That said, Apostate Alladin simply reaches to try and make a plot hole where there isn't, and I just wasted my time writing this all up. Fair to say I won't be watching or wasting my time commenting on the rest of the video because of this.
submitted by DavidMoyes to islam_ahmadiyya [link] [comments]
Recently, ReasonOnFaith made a post titled: The Story of Moses and the Wise One (often referred to as Khidr): video from Apostate Aladdin.
Within this post, Reason on Faith says:
My response:Here, ApostateAladdin does an excellent job is dissecting how nonsensical this narrative is. The plot holes, dangerous moral implications, and more.
Before I reply to the video, I want to share why I'm even replying to this after saying I was not interested in doing so at first.
I didn't see this post on my Reddit feed nor did I have any interest in reading it or watching the video and even replying to it.
However, I got notified of it the moment a couple of Ahmadis on that post tagged me and a few others out of the blue to essentially question why we Sunnis are not replying to it.
There was also some other person in the comment section called Redsulphur something who replied to me asking me to watch the video after my comment below that was in response to his post:
The story of Khidr reminds me of a video I once saw but can no longer locate. It featured a person who walked out of a store with a bag carrying milk. Unfortunately, they slipped near a car, and the milk spilt all over the ground. From their perspective, it was a goof-up. Little did they know, when they got back up and left in annoyance, a thirsty cat emerged from underneath the car and began lapping up the spilt milk.I'm pretty certain this Redsulphur something replied saying he heard this when he was a Muslim and that I should watch the video. His comment was in reply to mine and it has been removed (or is yet to be approved?). Either way, upon reading that comment, I wanted to see if Apostate Alladin actually addressed this perspective of mine in the video and so I decided to watch a bit of the video purely out of curiosity and I have to say I'm really surprised at the level of deception this man Apostate Aladdin is getting away with here.
This story like Khidr conveys an important lesson about how life is unpredictable and the hidden wisdom behind seemingly unfortunate events.
It serves as a reminder that what may appear as a mistake or a loss can sometimes lead to unexpected benefits or blessings. Just like Khidr's actions in the story, there might be deeper reasons behind certain occurrences that we cannot fully comprehend at first glance so from this perspective there's nothing nonsensical in it.
The Deception of Apostate Alladin:
Not even 8 minutes into the video this man totally assumes a contradiction and leaves things out to do so.
To prove this, I'm only going to respond to something he says from the minutes 6:50-8:01.
You can watch this part of the video yourself to see if I'm being faithful in transcribing what he says.
Apostate Alladin says:
Apostate Alladin's main claims here are:"I'll start my commentary by pointing out the inconsistencies in both the sources and the plot and I'll interlace the critique of the plot in between. As I mentioned earlier, in one version of the story Musa voluntarily said he's not aware of someone on Earth more knowledgeable than him. And I understand why Allah would want to admonish him for this potential arrogance. But in another narration, he was asked who the most knowledgeable man is and answered 'I am'.
In both versions, he didn't overstep into Allah's domain and say 'I know more than Allah' just that as far as he knew he had more knowledge than other humans [yet] still Allah gets jealous when he's not talked about 24/7 so yeah preferably he should have said 'I know the most thanks to Allah' or something of the sort.
But in yet another narration neither of those events take place, it was during a conversation with God that Musa asked how he could better himself and whether there's a more knowledgeable man he could learn from.
These are three very different beginnings to the story. One is somewhat arrogant the other is less arrogant and the third is completely humble. These contradictions are not deemed by Muslim scholars to be consequential or majors of course but I think they're noteworthy."
P1. There are three different versions of the first part of the story.
P2. These three contradict one another.
C: Therefore this is a plot hole.
Let's see if this is true and thankfully Apostate Alladin provides the sources he uses in the description. The first report he shares is Sahih Muslim 2380c and reads as:
In bold is the part Apostate Alladin shows on the screen in his screenshot.Moses had been delivering sermons to his people. And he made this remark: No person upon the earth has better knowledge than I or nothing better than mine. Thereupon Allah revealed to him: I know one who is better than you (in knowledge) or there is a person on the earth having more knowledge than you. Thereupon he said: My Lord, direct me to him...
But what do we learn from this report?
- The story begins with Moses first delivering sermons to his people.
- He said (during this sermon) 'No person upon the earth has better knowledge than I or nothing better than mine.'
- Allah corrected him and he asks to be directed to this person.
...Ubai bin Ka`b told us that the Prophet (ﷺ) said, 'Once Moses stood up and addressed Bani Israel. He was asked who was the most learned man amongst the people. He said, 'I.' Allah admonished him as he did not attribute absolute knowledge to Him (Allah). So, Allah said to him, 'Yes, at the junction of the two seas there is a Slave of Mine who is more learned than you.' Moses said, 'O my Lord! How can I meet him?'In bold are the parts shown on the screenshot.
Apostate Alladin underlines "He was asked" in the screenshot to point out this is a contradiction because the first report doesn't add the details "he was asked" but that he makes the remark.
What we learn from this report is:
- Moses stood up and addressed his people (meaning he was giving a sermon).
- He was asked who is the most learned man among the people and replies 'I am'.
- Allah corrects Moses and says 'Yes, at the junction of the two seas there is a Slave of Mine who is more learned than you.'
Apostate Alladin makes it out like the first part isn't mentioned in this tafsir. However, the link he shares just above it has the same details as the above two reports within it.
See here from the same source he gave in the description: Tafsir Of Surah Al-Kahf: The Story Of Musa And Al-Khidr
Apostate Alladin does not share that the article reads that above but only shows the below:Allah (Exalted is He) ordered Musa عليه السلام to remind his people of this blessing. So, he stood up and gave them an eloquent sermon, because of which hearts were softened and eyes shed tears. Then, they asked him, “Who is the most knowledgeable of mankind?”
He replied, “I am.”
And in another narration, they asked, “Do you know anyone more knowledgeable than yourself?”
He said, “No.”
So, Allah gently corrected him, because he did not refer the knowledge back to Allah (Honored and Majestic is He). So, Allah revealed to him, “I have a servant who is more knowledgeable than you. He is at the junction of the two seas.”
What Apostate Alladin also leaves out is that the article reads the following:Ibn ‘Abbas رضي الله عنه has said:
“Musa عليه السلام asked his Lord, ‘Which of Your slaves is more beloved to you?’
“He replied, ‘He who remembers Me and does not forget Me.’
“Musa عليه السلام said, ‘Which of Your slaves is more judicious?’
Allah replied, ‘He who judges by the truth and does not follow his desires.’
“Musa عليه السلام said, ‘Which of Your slaves is more knowledgeable?’
“Allah said, ‘He who learns knowledge from others, adding to his own knowledge. Perhaps he will receive a word that either guides or wards off from him destruction.’
Musa عليه السلام said, ‘My Lord! If there is anyone among Your slaves who is more knowledgeable than me, indicate him to me.’
“Allah replied, ‘Khidhr is more knowledgeable than you.’
Is there a contradiction?Shortly, we will tell the entire story. However, the hadith that mentions Musa عليه السلام was giving a sermon is the one that is in Sahih Bukhari. And Allah (Exalted is He) knows best which of the versions is more correct.
Is there really a contradiction between reports 1 and 2?
They both talk about Moses (عليه السلام) addressing his people. The second one just adds before he said his remark that he asked a question. The first one doesn't deny that a question was asked; this was an assumption made by Apostate Alladin to make it seem like a contradiction here. At the same time, he leaves out the bit which shows Moses (عليه السلام) was being humble by asking to be directed to this person.
The problem with Apostate Alladin's approach is he is taking both reports to share all the details and give a word-for-word transcript. Report one even specifically reads as anything but a transcript. See how it reads that Moses said "No person upon the earth has better knowledge than I or nothing better than mine."
The only inconsistency he can argue is with report 3, but even then... that's by a Sahabi!
Not the Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ), and even then... this is a report found in a tafsir, and anyone who is read up on Islam would know they could often contain reports attributed to Sahaba, and the chain of which may not even be authentic.
That said, Apostate Alladin simply reaches to try and make a plot hole where there isn't, and I just wasted my time writing this all up. Fair to say I won't be watching or wasting my time commenting on the rest of the video because of this.
2023.06.07 16:59 itsfish20 Can I put a yard waste sticker on a garbage can and just use that instead of buying the paper bags?
In Villa Park I have a ton of yard waste from trimming the bushes that I need to get rid of but haven't had the time to get bags yet but still have a ton of stickers from last year. Can I just put a sticker on the handle of an old garbage can and fill that with the yard waste or will the garbage men not take that?
submitted by itsfish20 to ChicagoSuburbs [link] [comments]
2023.06.07 16:48 Jhonjournalist Bold Approach of Hollywood Actresses on the Red Carpet
 | submitted by Jhonjournalist to u/Jhonjournalist [link] [comments] Showing skin has forever been in season on honorary pathways, yet Hollywood stars are adopting a striking strategy by deliberately uncovering considerably more. Sydney Sweeney as of late knocked some people‘s socks off wearing a smooth white Miu slip dress while leaving the Inn Martinez at the Cannes Film Celebration. Actresses Revealing Them Even MoreThe 25-year-old “White Lotus” star likewise uncovered a powder blue bra under her straightforward sheer dress and ignited web-based prattle about this late spring’s true style: the “deliberate closet breakdown.”Olivia Wilde, Charlize Theron, and Scarlett Johansson have observed with their uncovered presentations, however, design master Melissa Waterways solely told Fox News Computerized the style has previously left its imprint on various occasions.
Days after Sydney’s style proclamation, Scarlett Johansson flaunted her lashes at the “Space Rock City” separating Cannes. Johansson ventured onto the Palais de Celebrations honorary pathway wearing a child pink custom Prada outfit with a straight outline and a low back. A surprise white bralette looked out over the organized sew of her pastel dress, refreshing the immortal part of a cutting-edge second. Learn More: https://www.worldmagzine.com/entertainment/bold-approach-of-hollywood-actresses-on-the-red-carpet/ |