Poems about cocoons for babies
Sleep-Training: a safe place to talk about any kind of sleep-training for babies and toddlers
2016.06.17 15:35 UnicornToots Sleep-Training: a safe place to talk about any kind of sleep-training for babies and toddlers
This is a judgement-free zone to provide tips, ask questions, and share success stories about sleep-training your little ones. Whether you want to "cry it out" or you want to try a "no-cry sleep solution" (or anything in between), you're welcome here! [Note: We are not medical professionals. You should always consult your pediatrician before beginning a sleep-training program with your child.]
2012.09.08 20:23 jredton Redheaded Goddesses
Beautiful redheads are pure bliss. This subreddit is for websites, pictures, news, about beautiful redheaded actresses, beautiful redheaded models, and beautiful redheads in general. SFW photos only.
2017.03.23 18:51 Hasnep i lik the bred
Poems based on this one about a cow licking bread by Poem_for_your_sprog: my name is Cow, and wen its nite, or wen the moon is shiyning brite, and all the men haf gon to bed - i stay up late. i lik the bred.
2024.05.14 16:40 Suspicious_Ferret109 CMV: Children should remain close to their mother's heart a little longer if their love and heart are to develop rightly throughout their life.
You will be surprised to know that if a child does not get his nourishment through his mother's milk, if he is not fed with his mother's milk, then his life-energy remains weak forever. He can be fed milk in other ways also, but if he does not regularly receive the warm touch of his mother's heart, then his life becomes frustrated forever and the possibility of his living long is reduced forever. Those children who are not fed on mother's milk can never attain to much bliss and silence in their lives.
The whole younger generation in the West, and gradually in India also, is becoming filled with great rebellion. The deepest reason for this, the root cause, is that Western children are not being fed on mother's milk. Their respect towards life and their relation to life is not full of love. From their very childhood their life-energy has received many shocks and they have become unloving. In those shocks, in the separation from their mother, they have become separated from life itself - because for a child there is primarily no other life than his mother.
All over the world, wherever women are becoming educated, they do not like to raise children close to them - and the effect has been extremely harmful. In tribal societies children are fed on mother's milk for a long time. The more a society becomes educated, the earlier the children are separated from their mother's milk. The sooner the children are separated from their mother's milk, the more difficulty they will have in experiencing peace in their own life. A deep restlessness will prevail in their life from the very beginning. On whom will they take revenge for this restlessness?
The revenge will be taken on the parents themselves. All over the world children are taking revenge on their parents. On whom else will they take revenge? They do not know themselves what kind of reaction is happening within them, what kind of rebellion is arising within them, what kind of fire is arising within them. But unconsciously, deep within, they know that this rebellion is the result of being separated from their mother too soon. Their hearts know this, but their intellect doesn't. The result is that they will take revenge on their mothers and fathers; they will take revenge on everyone.
As soon as he is born, a child is immediately separated from his mother. His second source of life-energy is related to the heart of his mother. But at a certain point a child will have to separate from his mother's milk too.
When does that right time come? It does not come as early as we think. Children should remain close to their mother's heart a little longer if their love and heart are to develop rightly throughout their life. They are forced to separate very early. A mother should not separate the child from her milk; she should allow him to separate on his own. At a certain point the child will separate on his own. For the mother to force the separation is just like taking the baby out of the womb after four or five months instead of allowing him to come out after nine months. It is as dangerous for a mother to separate her child from her milk before he himself decides to give it up. This effort of the mother is dangerous and because of this effort the second center, the heart center, of the child does not develop rightly.
While we are talking about this I would like to tell you something more. You will be surprised to hear it. Why is it that all over the world, the part of the woman's body towards which men are attracted to most is the woman's breasts? These are all children who were separated very early from their mother's milk. In their consciousness somewhere deep inside a desire has remained to be close to a woman's breasts. It has not been fulfilled - there is no other reason, there is no other cause. In tribal societies, in primitive societies, where the children remain close to the mother's breasts long enough, men have no such attraction towards the breasts.
But why are our poems, our novels, our movies, our dramas, our pictures all centered around the breasts of women? They have all been created by men who, in their childhood, could not remain close to their mother's breast long enough. That desire is left unfulfilled and now it starts arising in new forms. Now pornographic pictures are being created, pornographic books and pornographic songs are being written. Now men harass women on the streets, throw stones at them. We create all these stupidities and then later on we complain about them and try to get rid of them.
It is very necessary for the child to remain close to his mother's breasts long enough for his mental, his physical and his psychological growth to take place rightly. Otherwise his heart center will not develop properly - it remains immature, undeveloped, stuck.
submitted by Suspicious_Ferret109 to changemyview [link] [comments]
The whole younger generation in the West, and gradually in India also, is becoming filled with great rebellion. The deepest reason for this, the root cause, is that Western children are not being fed on mother's milk. Their respect towards life and their relation to life is not full of love. From their very childhood their life-energy has received many shocks and they have become unloving. In those shocks, in the separation from their mother, they have become separated from life itself - because for a child there is primarily no other life than his mother.
All over the world, wherever women are becoming educated, they do not like to raise children close to them - and the effect has been extremely harmful. In tribal societies children are fed on mother's milk for a long time. The more a society becomes educated, the earlier the children are separated from their mother's milk. The sooner the children are separated from their mother's milk, the more difficulty they will have in experiencing peace in their own life. A deep restlessness will prevail in their life from the very beginning. On whom will they take revenge for this restlessness?
The revenge will be taken on the parents themselves. All over the world children are taking revenge on their parents. On whom else will they take revenge? They do not know themselves what kind of reaction is happening within them, what kind of rebellion is arising within them, what kind of fire is arising within them. But unconsciously, deep within, they know that this rebellion is the result of being separated from their mother too soon. Their hearts know this, but their intellect doesn't. The result is that they will take revenge on their mothers and fathers; they will take revenge on everyone.
As soon as he is born, a child is immediately separated from his mother. His second source of life-energy is related to the heart of his mother. But at a certain point a child will have to separate from his mother's milk too.
When does that right time come? It does not come as early as we think. Children should remain close to their mother's heart a little longer if their love and heart are to develop rightly throughout their life. They are forced to separate very early. A mother should not separate the child from her milk; she should allow him to separate on his own. At a certain point the child will separate on his own. For the mother to force the separation is just like taking the baby out of the womb after four or five months instead of allowing him to come out after nine months. It is as dangerous for a mother to separate her child from her milk before he himself decides to give it up. This effort of the mother is dangerous and because of this effort the second center, the heart center, of the child does not develop rightly.
While we are talking about this I would like to tell you something more. You will be surprised to hear it. Why is it that all over the world, the part of the woman's body towards which men are attracted to most is the woman's breasts? These are all children who were separated very early from their mother's milk. In their consciousness somewhere deep inside a desire has remained to be close to a woman's breasts. It has not been fulfilled - there is no other reason, there is no other cause. In tribal societies, in primitive societies, where the children remain close to the mother's breasts long enough, men have no such attraction towards the breasts.
But why are our poems, our novels, our movies, our dramas, our pictures all centered around the breasts of women? They have all been created by men who, in their childhood, could not remain close to their mother's breast long enough. That desire is left unfulfilled and now it starts arising in new forms. Now pornographic pictures are being created, pornographic books and pornographic songs are being written. Now men harass women on the streets, throw stones at them. We create all these stupidities and then later on we complain about them and try to get rid of them.
It is very necessary for the child to remain close to his mother's breasts long enough for his mental, his physical and his psychological growth to take place rightly. Otherwise his heart center will not develop properly - it remains immature, undeveloped, stuck.
2024.05.14 14:01 Zappingsbrew A post talking about 400 words
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storm, story, straight, strange, stranger, strategic, strategy, stream, street, strength, strengthen, stress, stretch, strike, string, strip, stroke, strong, strongly, structural, structure, struggle, student, studio, study, stuff, stupid, style, subject, submit, subsequent, substance, substantial, substitute, succeed, success, successful, successfully, such, sudden, suddenly, sue, suffer, sufficient, sugar, suggest, suggestion, suicide, suit, summer, summit, sun, super, supply, support, supporter, suppose, supposed, Supreme, sure, surely, surface, surgery, surprise, surprised, surprising, surprisingly, surround, survey, survival, survive, survivor, suspect, sustain, swear, sweep, sweet, swim, swing, switch, symbol, symptom, system, table, tactic, tail, take, tale, talent, talk, tall, tank, tap, tape, target, task, taste, tax, taxi, tea, teach, teacher, teaching, team, tear, technical, technique, technology, teen, teenager, telephone, telescope, television, tell, temperature, temporary, ten, tend, tendency, tennis, tension, tent, term, terms, terrible, territory, terror, terrorist, test, testimony, testing, text, than, thank, thanks, that, the, theater, their, them, theme, themselves, then, theory, therapy, there, therefore, these, they, thick, thin, thing, think, thinking, third, thirty, this, those, though, thought, thousand, threat, threaten, three, throat, through, throughout, throw, thus, ticket, tie, tight, time, tiny, tip, tire, tissue, title, to, tobacco, today, toe, together, toilet, token, tolerate, tomato, tomorrow, tone, tongue, tonight, too, tool, tooth, top, topic, toss, total, totally, touch, tough, tour, tourist, tournament, toward, towards, tower, town, toy, trace, track, trade, tradition, traditional, traffic, tragedy, trail, train, training, transfer, transform, transformation, transition, translate, translation, transmission, transmit, transport, transportation, travel, treat, treatment, treaty, tree, tremendous, trend, trial, tribe, trick, trip, troop, trouble, truck, true, truly, trust, truth, try, tube, tunnel, turn, TV, twelve, twenty, twice, twin, two, type, typical, typically, ugly, ultimate, ultimately, unable, uncle, undergo, understand, understanding, unfortunately, uniform, union, unique, unit, United, universal, universe, university, unknown, unless, unlike, until, unusual, up, upon, upper, urban, urge, us, use, used, useful, user, usual, usually, utility, utilize, vacation, valley, valuable, value, variable, variation, variety, various, vary, vast, vegetable, vehicle, venture, version, versus, very, vessel, veteran, via, victim, victory, video, view, viewer, village, violate, violation, violence, violent, virtually, virtue, virus, visibility, visible, vision, visit, visitor, visual, vital, voice, volume, voluntary, volunteer, vote, voter, voting, wage, wait, wake, walk, wall, wander, want, war, warm, warn, warning, wash, waste, watch, water, wave, way, we, weak, weakness, wealth, wealthy, weapon, wear, weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.
submitted by Zappingsbrew to u/Zappingsbrew [link] [comments]
2024.05.13 17:23 SwitcherooU Maybe the strangest joke in the entire show?
You’ll find it during the Superfan cut of “Goodbye, Michael.”
Right after he tells the office that Phyllis was hot in high school, Michael turns his attention to Stanley, who seems to be doing a crossword puzzle.
Michael pulls out a slip of patter and reads the following words: “Do you hate that I am proud and brown, standing here alive, with baby oil on my Nubian thighs? - Big Mama Angelou.”
Baffling.
After some googling, he seems to be conflating the poem “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou and “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor (not the first time he’s been mistaken about that song).
Then he wants to do a crossword with Stanley, but Stanley refuses. Then they wrestle over the crossword book, and a hentai illustration falls out.
It’s a very strange sequence. For the first joke to land, the audience would have to be familiar with the Maya Angelou poem and also understand that Michael confuses “I Will Survive” with other pieces of media. So I’m not surprised it was cut.
At any rate, it has to be the strangest joke in the entire show, right? I can’t think of one that’s more obscure.
Anyway, I just wanted to share because I was so blindsided by it. I’ve seen this episode SO many times now, and to have this new bit to talk about is a lot of fun.
Thank you for reading.
submitted by SwitcherooU to DunderMifflin [link] [comments]
Right after he tells the office that Phyllis was hot in high school, Michael turns his attention to Stanley, who seems to be doing a crossword puzzle.
Michael pulls out a slip of patter and reads the following words: “Do you hate that I am proud and brown, standing here alive, with baby oil on my Nubian thighs? - Big Mama Angelou.”
Baffling.
After some googling, he seems to be conflating the poem “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou and “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor (not the first time he’s been mistaken about that song).
Then he wants to do a crossword with Stanley, but Stanley refuses. Then they wrestle over the crossword book, and a hentai illustration falls out.
It’s a very strange sequence. For the first joke to land, the audience would have to be familiar with the Maya Angelou poem and also understand that Michael confuses “I Will Survive” with other pieces of media. So I’m not surprised it was cut.
At any rate, it has to be the strangest joke in the entire show, right? I can’t think of one that’s more obscure.
Anyway, I just wanted to share because I was so blindsided by it. I’ve seen this episode SO many times now, and to have this new bit to talk about is a lot of fun.
Thank you for reading.
2024.05.12 23:17 omegaMKXIII 31 [M4F] Austria/Europe - Looking for my forever lady
I am looking for a lady between 25 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner, training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with an avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or at a football game and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I'm looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus, emotional and intimate compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals and ideally, you do too.
Apparently in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well.
Second, intimate compatibility. I am rather insatiable and love to experiment when it comes to the bedroom, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, this kind of fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. I found the term 'filthy best friends and partners' to be a perfect description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
I’d prefer to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself.
Caveats
submitted by omegaMKXIII to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner, training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with an avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or at a football game and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I'm looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus, emotional and intimate compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals and ideally, you do too.
Apparently in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well.
Second, intimate compatibility. I am rather insatiable and love to experiment when it comes to the bedroom, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, this kind of fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. I found the term 'filthy best friends and partners' to be a perfect description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
I’d prefer to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself.
Caveats
- I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
- I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
- I don't want children and had a vasectomy
- I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
- While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
- I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
- I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.
2024.05.12 12:19 omegaMKXIII 31 [M4F] Austria/Europe - Looking for my forever lady
General
I am looking for a lady between 25 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I'm looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and intimate compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, intimate compatibility. I am rather insatiable, curious and love to experiment when it comes to the bedroom, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, this kind of fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that.
Caveats/Possible red flags
submitted by omegaMKXIII to R4R30Plus [link] [comments]
I am looking for a lady between 25 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I'm looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and intimate compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, intimate compatibility. I am rather insatiable, curious and love to experiment when it comes to the bedroom, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, this kind of fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that.
Caveats/Possible red flags
- I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
- I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
- I don't want children and had a vasectomy
- I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
- While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
- I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
- I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.
2024.05.12 06:52 ancientgreaves i set a date
or an estimate of a date, i guess? a friend is visiting sometime next month and she hasn't booked her return tickets, but the first weekend after she leaves i'll do it. or at least try. knowing the kind of person i am i might chicken out - i'm a coward in every respect of my life - but i think writing it down here and putting it out in the world might help make it a bit more real. like some twisted sense of accountability.
i've been passively suicidal for 3-4 years now but the past few months have been the first times i really woke up in the morning and thought "i should do it today. i could do it today" and it's just kept happening. my life has been steadily falling apart for years - that's too passive, i know i've been the one ruining my own life - and there's nothing left. which i know sounds stupid and whiny and childish as a 21 year old but there's just a sense of finality in my life. i've dropped out of college, ended my relationship, stopped talking to virtually all of my friends, ruined my life in its entirety. for years now it's killed me that you can call it quits in every aspect of your life other than being alive. why is there no fucking — i don't know, no game over or quit button lmao. no way to say "well i gave it a try and it's not for me, i give up!" why is there no other way to do that than killing yourself. i feel like nearly everyone i know was dealing with some sort of mental illness back when the pandemic started and we were finishing up high school. i felt less alone. every single one of them is living the life of their dreams now - loving relationships, dream jobs, ivy league grad schools, whatever - and i'm worse than i ever have been. i tried therapy but nothing helped, nothing worked. the thought of being stuck with myself and the complete wreck i've made of myself, having to live with every failure day in and day out for the rest of my life - i can't do it. i just can't do it anymore and the thought of this defining the rest of my life is unbearable. i'm done. i'm fucking done with this.
the one thing i do regret is adopting a cat in january. my beloved baby girl she's so lovely and so so sweet, but pragmatically i've been gone for the semester so she'll hardly remember me and i know my parents will take good care of her. the thought of hurting my parents is genuinely unbearable though so i'll have to avoid thinking about that as much as i can until it's too late. what else can you do?
what worries me is figuring out a method. i don't want to fuck it up and survive having damaged my internal organs beyond repair, i want it to be clean and i want it to stick. there's a line from a poem i like: "when I die, I will come in fast and low. I will stick the landing." i think about that a lot. in a fucked up way, working out a method will be a fun little project for the rest of the month. or maybe that's a pipe dream and there's no "clean" way to do it and whatever i do will be painful and drawn-out and damage my liver or w/e beyond repair until i finally die. it'll probably be that. oh god
this fucking sucks! my friend is texting me about flying out to see her boyfriend! two of my friends are talking about their new relationships! it's graduation weekend and someone outside my door just chirped "happy grad day" to her friend in the brightest voice! there was apparently an aurora last night that i completely missed + i think it's too cloudy here to see it, i'd wanted to see one my entire life! i found a nice italian spot in the city last month! and none of that matters and i feel worse than i ever have and i'm posting on a suicide watch subreddit about killing myself because that's just who i am and who i'll always be! i'm going back and proofreading this post like any of this fucking matters to anyone other than me, like any of it will matter at all a few weeks from now. in a way that's almost a relief.
i don't really want to do it - it's fucking biological instinct, nobody wants to die - but i have to force myself to. it's like swallowing bitter medicine, honestly that's exactly what it'll probably be. i don't have any other choice
submitted by ancientgreaves to SuicideWatch [link] [comments]
i've been passively suicidal for 3-4 years now but the past few months have been the first times i really woke up in the morning and thought "i should do it today. i could do it today" and it's just kept happening. my life has been steadily falling apart for years - that's too passive, i know i've been the one ruining my own life - and there's nothing left. which i know sounds stupid and whiny and childish as a 21 year old but there's just a sense of finality in my life. i've dropped out of college, ended my relationship, stopped talking to virtually all of my friends, ruined my life in its entirety. for years now it's killed me that you can call it quits in every aspect of your life other than being alive. why is there no fucking — i don't know, no game over or quit button lmao. no way to say "well i gave it a try and it's not for me, i give up!" why is there no other way to do that than killing yourself. i feel like nearly everyone i know was dealing with some sort of mental illness back when the pandemic started and we were finishing up high school. i felt less alone. every single one of them is living the life of their dreams now - loving relationships, dream jobs, ivy league grad schools, whatever - and i'm worse than i ever have been. i tried therapy but nothing helped, nothing worked. the thought of being stuck with myself and the complete wreck i've made of myself, having to live with every failure day in and day out for the rest of my life - i can't do it. i just can't do it anymore and the thought of this defining the rest of my life is unbearable. i'm done. i'm fucking done with this.
the one thing i do regret is adopting a cat in january. my beloved baby girl she's so lovely and so so sweet, but pragmatically i've been gone for the semester so she'll hardly remember me and i know my parents will take good care of her. the thought of hurting my parents is genuinely unbearable though so i'll have to avoid thinking about that as much as i can until it's too late. what else can you do?
what worries me is figuring out a method. i don't want to fuck it up and survive having damaged my internal organs beyond repair, i want it to be clean and i want it to stick. there's a line from a poem i like: "when I die, I will come in fast and low. I will stick the landing." i think about that a lot. in a fucked up way, working out a method will be a fun little project for the rest of the month. or maybe that's a pipe dream and there's no "clean" way to do it and whatever i do will be painful and drawn-out and damage my liver or w/e beyond repair until i finally die. it'll probably be that. oh god
this fucking sucks! my friend is texting me about flying out to see her boyfriend! two of my friends are talking about their new relationships! it's graduation weekend and someone outside my door just chirped "happy grad day" to her friend in the brightest voice! there was apparently an aurora last night that i completely missed + i think it's too cloudy here to see it, i'd wanted to see one my entire life! i found a nice italian spot in the city last month! and none of that matters and i feel worse than i ever have and i'm posting on a suicide watch subreddit about killing myself because that's just who i am and who i'll always be! i'm going back and proofreading this post like any of this fucking matters to anyone other than me, like any of it will matter at all a few weeks from now. in a way that's almost a relief.
i don't really want to do it - it's fucking biological instinct, nobody wants to die - but i have to force myself to. it's like swallowing bitter medicine, honestly that's exactly what it'll probably be. i don't have any other choice
2024.05.12 05:55 vintageideals Tw: stillbirth Thinking of my oldest son
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. I spent the evening with my living children. A month or so ago, I suddenly mentally relived the entire ordeal of my stillbirth, which occurred about 15.5 years ago. My late husband really began drinking and cheating a lot after that happened, and the loneliness of that time and experience really crushed me as I thought back on what I endured during it. I usually don’t feel so raw about it except for in November around his birthday. He seems to be heavier on my mind recently. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to be a widowed single mom of five since I’m already a widowed single mom of four. But I wish he was here with us. Here is a poem I wrote for him when I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, many years ago.
The Stone
The joy on the faces Everything pink and fair How different it all feels From memories held so dear… My heart recalls a boy I carried before this little one Ducks, mint green, and yellow The pride of having a son… But there is a block of granite That is planted on a hill Engraved with proof he was ours And that he remains ours, still
Rest easy, my sweet baby boy
submitted by vintageideals to babyloss [link] [comments]
The Stone
The joy on the faces Everything pink and fair How different it all feels From memories held so dear… My heart recalls a boy I carried before this little one Ducks, mint green, and yellow The pride of having a son… But there is a block of granite That is planted on a hill Engraved with proof he was ours And that he remains ours, still
Rest easy, my sweet baby boy
2024.05.12 02:54 omegaMKXIII [M4F] Austria/Europe - Looking for my forever lady
General
I am looking for a lady between 28 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I tried to be as concise as possible while still providing what details I think are crucial to know; I realise this post turned out very long, but I prefer those because I can get as good an idea as possible with detailed descriptions, bar actually talking to the person, and find that very valuable, so if that also applies to you, that would be awesome.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I am looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and sexual compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, sexual compatibility. I have a high libido and I have kinks, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy them together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, sexual fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that
Caveats/Possible red flags
submitted by omegaMKXIII to cf4cf [link] [comments]
I am looking for a lady between 28 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I tried to be as concise as possible while still providing what details I think are crucial to know; I realise this post turned out very long, but I prefer those because I can get as good an idea as possible with detailed descriptions, bar actually talking to the person, and find that very valuable, so if that also applies to you, that would be awesome.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I am looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and sexual compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, sexual compatibility. I have a high libido and I have kinks, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy them together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, sexual fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that
Caveats/Possible red flags
- I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
- I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
- I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
- While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
- I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
- I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.
2024.05.12 01:23 Little_BlueBirdy Earlier I did a post “Bruised Egos and Hurt Feelings” here is Part 2
 | Kisha had always been a bridge between worlds. As a nurse, she stood at the intersection of life and death, her hands steady, her heart compassionate. But on that fateful day, she found herself bridging a different kind of gap—one that spanned pride, ego, and the delicate balance of power in the hospital corridors. submitted by Little_BlueBirdy to StrikeAtPsyche [link] [comments] The ER was her domain, a place where chaos and urgency danced hand in hand. Kisha thrived there, her LPN badge a testament to her dedication. She juggled college courses, medical training, and the relentless rhythm of 12-hour shifts. Her dream? Biotechnology. But destiny had other plans, nudging her toward the path of a doctor. Enter Dr. Markham—a young, brilliant physician with a penchant for protocol. His knowledge was vast, but so was his arrogance. When a pregnant woman arrived, her medical history fraught with complications, Kisha’s intuition flared. She’d read the charts, seen the fragile thread that held this life together. Dr. Markham, however, saw only statistics and probabilities. The clash was inevitable. Kisha questioned him, daring to challenge the hierarchy. The tension hung thick in the air, like the scent of antiseptic. The senior RN, a silent witness, knew Kisha’s worth. She summoned the director—a man who understood Kisha’s potential. He arrived, calm and composed, ready to arbitrate. Dr. Markham raged, his ego bruised. Kisha stood her ground, advocating for the patient. The director intervened, scrubbed in, and took charge. Kisha worked with precision, her hands guided by compassion. An hour and a half later, a baby girl nestled in her mother’s arms—a fragile victory against the odds. Dr. Markham stormed out, defeated. In the aftermath, the director faced Kisha. His office, a sanctuary of decisions, awaited her. The older nurse defended her, but the director sought Kisha’s voice. Did she regret her defiance? Kisha met his gaze. “I regret the altercation,” she said, “but not the outcome—for the patient’s sake.” The clock ticked past 9 PM. The director’s request echoed: “Be here tomorrow.” The early shift—6 AM—beckoned. Kisha arrived, nerves humming. The office held secrets—the two RNs, the young doctor. The director dismissed the witnesses, leaving Kisha alone with her adversary. Dr. Markham hesitated, then spoke. His apology was raw, unpolished. Could they bridge the gap? Kisha listened, her heart a bridge of forgiveness. She nodded. “We heal together,” she said. “For the patients.” And so, in the quiet of dawn, they began anew—a nurse and a doctor, their paths converging on the healing bridge they’d built. The ER pulsed with life, and Kisha knew: sometimes, bridges were stronger than walls. In the days following that pivotal clash in the hospital, Dr. Markham underwent a metamorphosis. The encounter with Kisha—the nurse who dared to question him—had left an indelible mark on his pride and his perception of medicine. At first, he nursed his wounded ego. The corridors whispered about the young doctor who’d been bested by an LPN. But beneath the surface, something shifted. Dr. Markham replayed the scene—the charts, the urgency, the baby girl’s fragile life. He realized that Kisha’s defiance hadn’t been about undermining him; it had been about safeguarding a patient. The director’s words echoed: “I know why Kisha interfered.” Dr. Markham grappled with humility. He sought out Kisha, not as an adversary, but as a colleague. Their conversations were tentative at first—about protocols, cases, and the delicate balance between knowledge and compassion. Kisha, too, softened. She saw Dr. Markham’s dedication, his hunger to learn. He listened when she spoke, not just to refute but to understand. They became a team—the bridge between science and empathy. Patients benefited from their collaboration—the precision of Dr. Markham’s diagnosis, coupled with Kisha’s intuition. In the quiet moments—when the ER lights dimmed, and the chaos subsided—Dr. Markham confided in Kisha. His dreams, once rigid, now wavered. Maybe being a doctor wasn’t just about wielding knowledge; maybe it was about healing hearts too. And so, Dr. Markham changed. Not overnight, but gradually. His arrogance softened into confidence tempered by humility. He learned from Kisha—the nurse who’d dared to bridge the gap. Together, they stitched wounds, delivered life, and whispered hope to patients in pain. As for Kisha, she watched Dr. Markham evolve—a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. And she knew that sometimes, healing required more than medicine—it required bridges built on trust, respect, and the shared purpose of saving lives. |
2024.05.11 22:01 The_Loli_Otaku [Rewatch] Haibane Renmei Index Thread!
Are wa tenshi no koe!
Synopsis:
"To know your sin is to have no sin."
Born from a cocoon in the village of Old Home, a young Haibane, an angel like being with a halo and small gray wings and very yummy looking ears, awakens to a world she does not understand without memories of her past. Named Rakka da rapper for the dream of falling she had while inside the cocoon, she soon becomes accustomed to life in the strange town. However, there are strict rules for the Haibane, such as being forbidden to leave the village or go near the walls surrounding it. These, along with mysterious disappearances of their kind on their "Day of Flight," begin to unsettle Rakka and the others since they know almost nothing about their own kind.
Haibane Renmei tells not only Rakka's story but also of those around her, as they live their lives with no memories of the past while trying to break free from their former pain and ultimately find salvation.
From MAL~
Haibane Renmei (Charcoal Feather Federation) is a 13-episode anime which began life as Charcoal Feathers in Old Town, a doujinshi series by Yoshitoshi ABe. Yoshitori's fingers are all over this work, best known for working alongside Chiaki Konaka for the holy trinity of Lain and Texhnolyze with Haibane being ABe's personal baby. With Tomokazu Tokoro lending his adorable name to the directors credits with his MariaHolix and Hellsing Ultimate experience!
Also may be worth noting, some of you may actually be slightly familiar with this project since of course we hosted Lain earlier this year before we jumped onto basketball loli randomly. No news on Texhnolyze tho. That shit is waaay too much of a downer for a The Loli Otaku rewatch
Ahahaha! This is where I, as your super responsible and reliable host should try to sell you on the Haibane Renmei experience. Well let me tell you!! I don't know...
Haibane is certainly a series that will show up on your anime adventure a few times but truthly I couldn't quite tell you what it's about. Until hosting Lain I genuinely thought it was an iyashikei slice of life, close to Chiaki's other work, NieA_7, which also has supernatural themes but instead of being on angels it's instead a starving and poverty stricken alien and human duo. Tone wise unfortunately it's gonna be a gloomy time, but I'm sure we can find some lights to focus on~ The show has similar vibes to what you could sometimes find in your Mushishi, Girls Last Tour for another TLO anime, or your Chiyo's Schoolwait, Kino's School Road. No!! Kino no Tabi! There, that's the one.
If you're interested in checking out a series that's more about a journey into the philosophical and life's karma then this is an experience that you shouldn't miss out on. Don't be afraid, this is exactly the type of series you should enter completely blind. Just trust your guide~
Abyssbringer's "What is the thematic purpose of this scene corner!!"
Each day I will post a Prompt as a sort of preview for the upcoming episode. Take this Prompt and write something charming~ Be it a quippy one liner, a prediction on what the scene could possibly be, or just take it totally out of context and try to confuse any tourists that are lurking! If you're confused or need more elaboration I will be happy to discuss further. You may also check out my many previous rewatches for references.
[24H Reminder]()
If you strain your ears, you can probably hear it.
submitted by The_Loli_Otaku to anime [link] [comments]
Extra Info and Links
ANN MAL TV Tropes WikipediaSchedule
| Episode | Title | Date | Episode | Title | Date |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| EP 01 | ["Cocoon — Dream of Falling from the Sky — Old Home"]() | May 17th | EP 08 | ["The Bird"]() | May 24th |
| EP 02 | ["Town and Wall — Touga — Haibane Renmei"]() | May 18th | EP 09 | ["Water Well — Rebirth — Riddle"]() | May 25th |
| EP 03 | ["Temple — The Communicator — Pancakes"]() | May 19th | EP 10 | ["Kuramori — Haibane of Abandoned Factory — Rakka's Job"]() | May 26th |
| EP 04 | ["Trash Day — Clock Tower — Birds Flying Over the Walls"]() | May 20th | EP 11 | ["Parting — Darkness in the Heart — Irreplaceable Thing"]() | May 27th |
| EP 05 | ["Library — Abandoned Factory — Beginning of the World"]() | May 21st | EP 12 | ["Bell Nuts — Passing of the Year Festival — Reconciliation"]() | May 28th |
| EP 06 | ["End of Summer — Rain — Loss"]() | May 22nd | EP 13 | ["Reki's World — Prayer — Epilogue"]() | May 29th |
| EP 07 | ["Scar — Illness — Arrival of Winter"]() | May 23rd | Completed | ["Series Discussion"]() | May 30th |
"To know your sin is to have no sin."
Born from a cocoon in the village of Old Home, a young Haibane, an angel like being with a halo and small gray wings and very yummy looking ears, awakens to a world she does not understand without memories of her past. Named Rakka da rapper for the dream of falling she had while inside the cocoon, she soon becomes accustomed to life in the strange town. However, there are strict rules for the Haibane, such as being forbidden to leave the village or go near the walls surrounding it. These, along with mysterious disappearances of their kind on their "Day of Flight," begin to unsettle Rakka and the others since they know almost nothing about their own kind.
Haibane Renmei tells not only Rakka's story but also of those around her, as they live their lives with no memories of the past while trying to break free from their former pain and ultimately find salvation.
From MAL~
Haibane Renmei (Charcoal Feather Federation) is a 13-episode anime which began life as Charcoal Feathers in Old Town, a doujinshi series by Yoshitoshi ABe. Yoshitori's fingers are all over this work, best known for working alongside Chiaki Konaka for the holy trinity of Lain and Texhnolyze with Haibane being ABe's personal baby. With Tomokazu Tokoro lending his adorable name to the directors credits with his MariaHolix and Hellsing Ultimate experience!
Also may be worth noting, some of you may actually be slightly familiar with this project since of course we hosted Lain earlier this year before we jumped onto basketball loli randomly. No news on Texhnolyze tho. That shit is waaay too much of a downer for a The Loli Otaku rewatch
Why should you watch it?
!"Reincarnated as a Lv1 Angel in Another World: My Slow Life as an Odd-jobber."!Ahahaha! This is where I, as your super responsible and reliable host should try to sell you on the Haibane Renmei experience. Well let me tell you!! I don't know...
Haibane is certainly a series that will show up on your anime adventure a few times but truthly I couldn't quite tell you what it's about. Until hosting Lain I genuinely thought it was an iyashikei slice of life, close to Chiaki's other work, NieA_7, which also has supernatural themes but instead of being on angels it's instead a starving and poverty stricken alien and human duo. Tone wise unfortunately it's gonna be a gloomy time, but I'm sure we can find some lights to focus on~ The show has similar vibes to what you could sometimes find in your Mushishi, Girls Last Tour for another TLO anime, or your Chiyo's Schoolwait, Kino's School Road. No!! Kino no Tabi! There, that's the one.
If you're interested in checking out a series that's more about a journey into the philosophical and life's karma then this is an experience that you shouldn't miss out on. Don't be afraid, this is exactly the type of series you should enter completely blind. Just trust your guide~
Fun Stuff
Daily QotD's, as I do, but whilst I will be doing my Comments of the Day, the corner where I nominate my favourite one liners, favourite observations, and just plain neat comments from rewatchers that definitely replied to at least three other users. I will also be bringing back our much beloved...Abyssbringer's "What is the thematic purpose of this scene corner!!"
Each day I will post a Prompt as a sort of preview for the upcoming episode. Take this Prompt and write something charming~ Be it a quippy one liner, a prediction on what the scene could possibly be, or just take it totally out of context and try to confuse any tourists that are lurking! If you're confused or need more elaboration I will be happy to discuss further. You may also check out my many previous rewatches for references.
Dates, times and plans
So then! The rewatch will begin on Friday, May 17th at 22:00 UTC, 17:00 EST 16:00 CST, 15:00 MST, 14:00 PST So 10pm UK time. We will be doing one episode per day with a series discussion to wrap up. I'm sorry about the short notice, I'd just been holding off on the thread too long!If you strain your ears, you can probably hear it.
2024.05.11 19:15 TresExplores Undiagnosed and still not sure if I have it.
Hey there amigos! For starters, I will tell you some background. [KINDA LONG READ]
Do you know that activity during high school wherein each of the students will pass around a paper with name on it and the whole class will write what they thought about you? Guess what? I got the following:
"Binigay ko na nga lahat ng sagot pero bagsak ka pa rin." "You exceeded my expectation, I'll show your work to other sections." "Sa simula ka lang magaling, I expected more from you." "Dati nakikipagsabayan ka ah, what happened?" "Buti kinorrect mo yung solution sa equation, congrats you got the 3rd place merit." "Eyes on the board, wala ka matututunan if diyan ka sa bintana titingin."
I'm just an average person and I recognize that, I am not a natural genius. I have to work hard for the merits. I got an average grade which gave me the eligibility to enter university during SHS. New environment, new me. This time I owned my life and started joining orgs and clubs. Laging pinagaagawan sa mga groupings but I always choose to be with those na walang pumipili. I wake up at 3am and sleep at 11pm. My days became hectic. My years as SHS went so fast, I ended with just honorable mention and some medals I accumulated as I compete.
Personal Development. Same activity, different results. Kung before, I got an overall comment stating na I'm an Alien. This time, I got the following:
I know myself and this is me:
Just sharing this. I'm not really sure what am I looking for, maybe validation, dunno hehe.
Oh, and our baby bro show signs of ADHD as told by their teacher and my brother's girlfriend's relative who happens to be a psych grad.
submitted by TresExplores to ADHDPH [link] [comments]
Do you know that activity during high school wherein each of the students will pass around a paper with name on it and the whole class will write what they thought about you? Guess what? I got the following:
- weird
- lutang
- may sariling Mundo
- Alien
- outcast
- warfreak
"Binigay ko na nga lahat ng sagot pero bagsak ka pa rin." "You exceeded my expectation, I'll show your work to other sections." "Sa simula ka lang magaling, I expected more from you." "Dati nakikipagsabayan ka ah, what happened?" "Buti kinorrect mo yung solution sa equation, congrats you got the 3rd place merit." "Eyes on the board, wala ka matututunan if diyan ka sa bintana titingin."
I'm just an average person and I recognize that, I am not a natural genius. I have to work hard for the merits. I got an average grade which gave me the eligibility to enter university during SHS. New environment, new me. This time I owned my life and started joining orgs and clubs. Laging pinagaagawan sa mga groupings but I always choose to be with those na walang pumipili. I wake up at 3am and sleep at 11pm. My days became hectic. My years as SHS went so fast, I ended with just honorable mention and some medals I accumulated as I compete.
Personal Development. Same activity, different results. Kung before, I got an overall comment stating na I'm an Alien. This time, I got the following:
- haggard pero cute
- laging pagod
- responsible and leader-like
- mapanglait pero Masaya kasama
I know myself and this is me:
- I love nature and the tranquility it gives. Pero you'll see my wild side when you bring me to the dance floor.
- I hyperfixate at times for an instance during the entrance examination back then, I studied 4months straight, day and night.
- I have my extreme highs when it comes to my emotions na kung saan nakakasira ako ng gamit, like yung pader sa classroom namin na sinipa ko pero ang instruction lang ay putukin ang lobo gamit kahit ano wag lang kamay. I also have my extreme lows na kung saan nakakasira ako ng relationships like cutting ties to the point na dinelete ko fb account ko and made a new one.
- I have this urge back then na in every argument, I must share my two cents. In every seminar, I have to raise my hand kahit nonsense ang tanong.
- I jump from one hobby to another. Right now, my thing is making peyote bracelets. The former ones are karate, dragon boating, drawing/ painting, song/poem writing, biking, etc. Heck, I have my room filled with different stuffs that "I might use in future"
- I can finish a book in one sitting back then, they even call me a walking encyclopedia back then kasi lagi akong may banat na "According sa nabasa ko..." kaso ngayon hirap na ako makatapos ng libro, sobrang effort na makapagsimula at makatapos ng isang chapter.
Just sharing this. I'm not really sure what am I looking for, maybe validation, dunno hehe.
Oh, and our baby bro show signs of ADHD as told by their teacher and my brother's girlfriend's relative who happens to be a psych grad.
2024.05.11 09:35 takethepiss95 Trying to figure out what's happening to me
Hey everyone, this may be a bit long
For background, I'm late DX ADHD and was confirmed by therapist and psychiatrist that I'm autistic as well. I had a VERY abusive and violent childhood that I truly don't know how I survived. And it started since I was a baby tbh.
When I was in junior high, that's when a lot of stuff became very difficult. I didn't understand social rules and would cry all the time because I felt so lost and different from others and during this period my stepdads abuse got worse. Hes a cop and used a lot of methods on me including psychological torture. And the kids i went to school with all hated me in 8th grade, which was a year after my brother died. I was always told I was strange and creepy. I'm also half black and experienced a lot of racism.
In 8th grade I wrote a poem about how I felt like I was a puppet that people controlle and tossed me when I was no longer useful. This is a feeling I've carried with me for 28 years. Feeling disposable.
As an adult, this manifested in me having multiple abusive friendships and romantic relationships. I was diagnosed borderline, bipolar, panic disorder, agoraphobia...a long list. And I felt like i have no central self...like I am fragmented. When the lockdown happened, I felt like I started to really connect with myself. I developed in a lot of different ways and felt like I could breathe and exist. But then I had a very mentally abusive friendship where this person always said I was selfish and a terrible person...all kinds of shit. I had a falling out with a group who I realized didn't actually care for me but they found me useful. I went through multiple SA (I lived in LA at the time and was apart of a lot of diy scenes) and just things got too overwhelming and my mom was in an abusive relationship and I was worried about her so I went back to PA. Moving back in with her was a lot, because my mom and I have our own issues and I felt uncomfortable and unsafe because her fiance. I felt like a kid again an then even when I'd be around friends I felt uncomfortable and unsafe and my anxiety and paranoia would get really bad.
I always spent days after being social obsessively worrying about how people felt about and perceived me. I went through couch surfing and a lot of shit again then ended up in a very draining relationship for a year that resulted in him permanently damaging my leg. When that happened, I felt like nobody really supported me the way I needed and I also felt ashamed of myself. When we broke up, I was living alone and spiraled. I was working full time and the job was draining as well in a call center so I ended up walking out. In order to make rent, I slept with someone for money and my landlord started harassing me. A few months after that breakup, I ended up getting into another relationship that was the worst ever. He slut shamed me a lot because I have OF, would tear into my appearence and I started to feel like a shell of a person. He would get angry at me and throw my belongings down the stair,s punch holes in the walls, get in my face and scream at me...he would cause me to have awful meltdowns. There was a time when i was at my friends house for 3 days and he made his friend come pick me up and forced me to leave wiht him because he said I was cheating on him. He also went through my phone, tried to convince me my friends talked badly about me and that people didn't care about me, would comment on my weight and just like...wow writing this out is making me realize how bad it really was. I would spend days in bed because I just felt so drained. We broke up halloween bc I had a gig and he was mad at me and didn't go and then my best friend was in town and had a gig so I went with her and hung out all night and didn't get back til late the next day and HE BLEW UP ON ME SO BAD! He literally threatened to call the cops and tried to drag me out of bed. I facetimed my mom cuz he was screaming and she told me that his eyes looked scary and that he was going to put his hands on me. She got me an uber and I left and blocked him.
After all that, my landlod tried to finesse me out of money because I got a large portion of back unemployment and paid the rest of the year but he said I still owed and was doing illegal shit like he refused to get my toilet and shower fixed so I had to shower in a plastic bin cuz it was filled wit sewage. My friend flew me back to LA in december because I was about to end my life.
Now I feel like nobody. I don't know who I am. the days blend together. I live in a place with 17 people and there's days I am terrified of having to interact with anyone. And I was so excited to move in because its an art and diy space where we do events and i just feel so empty and crazy because I get overstimulated. I don't know what I like anymore. I had a period of doing graphic design and stuff but there's a person there who is triggering to me and I also feel like im in 8th grade again. I people please and I don't do anything that I like. I have a partner who is very sweet and patient and I'm not used to it.
I feel so rigid and like I'm not here. I don't feel real a lot of the times. I also had covid the last month of my abusive relationship
But I feel like a living dead person. I have no interests anymore and am so badly dissociated. And then i feel like im hyperfixated on whats happening in the world and it is making my ocd bad...like I worry about being a bad person and my actions killing and harming others. I am so exhausted and feel like I'm going to break down. I don't know what this is, but i'm scared. like I literally just feel like a pre teen who is scared and confused and doesn't know what to do. I dj, but like lately when I do it makes me want to d*3 the next day...and I am dependent on alcohol and then that makes me scared of what I say unfiltered i just don't know what to do. I worry about doing everything wrong. and I started to get paranoia badly earlier today even though my roommates all are nice and supportive towards me. Thank you for listening
submitted by takethepiss95 to AutisticWithADHD [link] [comments]
For background, I'm late DX ADHD and was confirmed by therapist and psychiatrist that I'm autistic as well. I had a VERY abusive and violent childhood that I truly don't know how I survived. And it started since I was a baby tbh.
When I was in junior high, that's when a lot of stuff became very difficult. I didn't understand social rules and would cry all the time because I felt so lost and different from others and during this period my stepdads abuse got worse. Hes a cop and used a lot of methods on me including psychological torture. And the kids i went to school with all hated me in 8th grade, which was a year after my brother died. I was always told I was strange and creepy. I'm also half black and experienced a lot of racism.
In 8th grade I wrote a poem about how I felt like I was a puppet that people controlle and tossed me when I was no longer useful. This is a feeling I've carried with me for 28 years. Feeling disposable.
As an adult, this manifested in me having multiple abusive friendships and romantic relationships. I was diagnosed borderline, bipolar, panic disorder, agoraphobia...a long list. And I felt like i have no central self...like I am fragmented. When the lockdown happened, I felt like I started to really connect with myself. I developed in a lot of different ways and felt like I could breathe and exist. But then I had a very mentally abusive friendship where this person always said I was selfish and a terrible person...all kinds of shit. I had a falling out with a group who I realized didn't actually care for me but they found me useful. I went through multiple SA (I lived in LA at the time and was apart of a lot of diy scenes) and just things got too overwhelming and my mom was in an abusive relationship and I was worried about her so I went back to PA. Moving back in with her was a lot, because my mom and I have our own issues and I felt uncomfortable and unsafe because her fiance. I felt like a kid again an then even when I'd be around friends I felt uncomfortable and unsafe and my anxiety and paranoia would get really bad.
I always spent days after being social obsessively worrying about how people felt about and perceived me. I went through couch surfing and a lot of shit again then ended up in a very draining relationship for a year that resulted in him permanently damaging my leg. When that happened, I felt like nobody really supported me the way I needed and I also felt ashamed of myself. When we broke up, I was living alone and spiraled. I was working full time and the job was draining as well in a call center so I ended up walking out. In order to make rent, I slept with someone for money and my landlord started harassing me. A few months after that breakup, I ended up getting into another relationship that was the worst ever. He slut shamed me a lot because I have OF, would tear into my appearence and I started to feel like a shell of a person. He would get angry at me and throw my belongings down the stair,s punch holes in the walls, get in my face and scream at me...he would cause me to have awful meltdowns. There was a time when i was at my friends house for 3 days and he made his friend come pick me up and forced me to leave wiht him because he said I was cheating on him. He also went through my phone, tried to convince me my friends talked badly about me and that people didn't care about me, would comment on my weight and just like...wow writing this out is making me realize how bad it really was. I would spend days in bed because I just felt so drained. We broke up halloween bc I had a gig and he was mad at me and didn't go and then my best friend was in town and had a gig so I went with her and hung out all night and didn't get back til late the next day and HE BLEW UP ON ME SO BAD! He literally threatened to call the cops and tried to drag me out of bed. I facetimed my mom cuz he was screaming and she told me that his eyes looked scary and that he was going to put his hands on me. She got me an uber and I left and blocked him.
After all that, my landlod tried to finesse me out of money because I got a large portion of back unemployment and paid the rest of the year but he said I still owed and was doing illegal shit like he refused to get my toilet and shower fixed so I had to shower in a plastic bin cuz it was filled wit sewage. My friend flew me back to LA in december because I was about to end my life.
Now I feel like nobody. I don't know who I am. the days blend together. I live in a place with 17 people and there's days I am terrified of having to interact with anyone. And I was so excited to move in because its an art and diy space where we do events and i just feel so empty and crazy because I get overstimulated. I don't know what I like anymore. I had a period of doing graphic design and stuff but there's a person there who is triggering to me and I also feel like im in 8th grade again. I people please and I don't do anything that I like. I have a partner who is very sweet and patient and I'm not used to it.
I feel so rigid and like I'm not here. I don't feel real a lot of the times. I also had covid the last month of my abusive relationship
But I feel like a living dead person. I have no interests anymore and am so badly dissociated. And then i feel like im hyperfixated on whats happening in the world and it is making my ocd bad...like I worry about being a bad person and my actions killing and harming others. I am so exhausted and feel like I'm going to break down. I don't know what this is, but i'm scared. like I literally just feel like a pre teen who is scared and confused and doesn't know what to do. I dj, but like lately when I do it makes me want to d*3 the next day...and I am dependent on alcohol and then that makes me scared of what I say unfiltered i just don't know what to do. I worry about doing everything wrong. and I started to get paranoia badly earlier today even though my roommates all are nice and supportive towards me. Thank you for listening
2024.05.10 17:34 Jack_Wight_Beat Peek
I'm at a loss, let me explain:
I’ve had someone peeking at me for most of my life, he kind of reminds me of that poem by William Hughes Mearns. It goes:
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there!
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh how I wish he’d go away!
That’s only the first of three verses, but it’s a short poem.
The first time I saw Mr. Peeks, I was a child and that’s when I named him. You can’t really hold it against a 9-year-old when he’s being unoriginal. The name stuck, and his name is Mr. Peeks.
I call him Mr. Peeks because he’s never told me his name. Mr. Peeks doesn’t speak, he only looks at me. That shouldn’t be a surprise.
I’ve never seen the bottom half of Mr. Peeks’s head, only the top of his nose, his brow, and his eyes. I don’t like his eyes.
I want to say that Mr. Peeks is a man, but I don’t know if he is or not. I refer to him as a he, because he seems like a man, but his skin is the wrong color, and so are his eyes. If he is a man, he must be a very old man, because his forehead is creased with deep wrinkles. When I look at his head, I’m always reminded of a potato which has been left out for too long and is starting to sprout and rot.
I’m intentionally avoiding describing his eyes because I don’t like them. But I want to tell you about Mr. Peeks, and that’s the most important part. Mr. Peeks is just a pair of eyes, with a head like an afterthought.
His eyes are dry like chalky marbles rimmed with. Most people take it for granted that eyes are wet and shiny, but when you see dry eyes, the difference is immediately noticeable. You’d think that because his eyes are dry, they would seem dead and flat. They don’t. His eyes are incredibly alive and intelligent… and hateful.
Mr. Peeks hates me, and he’s always hated me. I can see it in his stare. His stare is wide and glaring with deep, sagging wrinkles. His eyes make him look sick or like he’s suffering because they’re so jaundiced, run through with purplish capillaries, and rimmed with irritated pink skin.
I think the skin around his eyes is probably pink like that because his eyes hurt. That probably explains why his eyes are so dry, too, because he never blinks. I’ve known Mr. Peeks for twenty-eight years, and he hasn’t blinked once.
I don’t think that Mr. Peek is here with me, at least not all the way, because he peeks from behind things that are too small for him to hide behind. The first time that I saw him I was in the shower, and he was peeking at me over the curtain. I remember feeling cold, despite being sprayed by water so hot that my skin was turning lobster-red. When I looked up, there he was. He was peeking over the shower curtain. He was just the desiccated top of a head, and wide yellow eyes like terrible saucers.
I was too scared to scream for help, and the sheer weirdness of him piqued a morbid curiosity. He was peeking over the top of the curtain rod, which was maybe an inch wide, and I could see the bottom of the curtain rod because our shower rings were big. I couldn’t see the bottom half of his face at all. At nine, I reasoned that the bottom half of his face must have been somewhere else, along with the rest of his body.
I was glad that the bottom half was somewhere else because I could tell by his eyes that Mr. Peeks would really like to hurt me. His stare was so wide and intense that his eyelids were trembling. It gave his stare and unpleasant vibrating quality that made his eyes look like they were buzzing at me.
If you keep staring at Mr. Peeks he’ll stare right back, and he won’t ever go away unless you look away or run and hide. I ran out of the shower, and when I looked behind me there was nothing on the outside of the shower curtain.
After that, I would see Mr. Peeks every now and then. Sometimes he peeked from outside, but mostly Mr. Peeks likes to be inside with me. I also know that Mr. Peeks doesn’t like the sunlight, because if he comes out in the daylight, he’s careful to never let it fall directly on him. I’ll bet that the sun hurts him, that would make sense to me.
I won’t catalogue every time that I saw Mr. Peeks because that wouldn’t be worth reading (he showed up hundreds of times) and because most of the time it wasn’t any different. I would be doing something then I’d feel cold and numb. Whenever I got that feeling, I knew he’d be somewhere in the room with me… well, as in as he could seem to get. I’d look around frantically for him, because I didn’t like it when he was too close to me. Sometimes he’ll show up inches from my face, and I really don’t like that. When he’s that close I can smell him, and he smells like old dust and cobwebs; The way a tool shed might if left abandoned for years.
Most of time, though, he’s a couple feet away or across the room. I think he likes to peek from impossible places to show off. I think he wants me to know that he’s something impossible and strange. He likes to scare me. I’ll see him peeking from behind a milk carton on the counter, or out of the sink; One time I saw him peeking from inside my crockpot. Sometimes I’ve caught him peeking out of cabinets or through small holes, but not usually. He doesn’t like me to miss him; It makes him angry.
He’s been with me for years, he’ll show up with his silent glare and then disappear after I blink him away. I’ll confirm where he is and then go back to what I’m doing and ignore him. I think this makes him angrier, but after so many months and years I’ve started to get used to him. I got complacent with him.
Once I grew up and hit my teenage years, I was even less affected by it. I toyed with the idea that I might be insane for a while, but then I flicked a rock at Mr. Peeks and it bounced off his forehead. He didn’t move at all, but his irises faded from deep ultramarine to a blue so pale that they were almost white. I could feel his rage boiling out of him from his hiding place and I decided to never push my luck like that again.
I graduated high school, then college, then I joined the military. None of that is important, so I won’t go into it, but Mr. Peeks was there the entire time. By the time I was in my mid-thirties Mr. Peeks had become my quiet companion. I never liked Mr. Peeks, in fact I hate him. I just got used to him. Hell, he was there on my wedding day peeking from behind the coleslaw.
Now I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve had a son, and now things are starting to change.
Mr. Peeks was peeking over Atticus’s bassinet on the night he was born, and that was the first time that it was different. His hateful eyes ignored me completely, he was looking at my son. His eyes were wide and feverish, and his pale pupils were dilated like an addict’s. I looked away, and looked back, and he was still there. This time, he was looking at me again, the same hateful gaze I’d come to know so well. When I was finally able to blink, he was gone.
It didn’t get better when we took Atticus home. Mr. Peeks, who I would normally see about once a month, started to show up more frequently, and only when I was with Atticus. One time, he hung around for almost an hour and no matter how often I blinked or looked away he would be there. I’ve taken to leaving all the lights on in my house all the time, prompting my wife to ask what the Hell is wrong with me, because the lights make it harder for the baby to sleep. I don’t want to let her know that I’m trying to do it to protect him.
Mr. Peeks is even outside now. I’ve started taking Atticus outside as often as possible so that we can both stay safe in the sun. It’s not working. I see Mr. Peeks behind stone walls and in tree branches. After decades of Mr. Peeks, I had convinced myself that he was benign. Now, I know that’s not the case.
I found Mr. Peeks behind Atticus’s crib, and although I could still only see the top of his head, his cheeks and his eyes were upturned; I knew that Mr. Peeks was smiling. It wasn’t a kind smile. Nothing about Mr. Peeks is kind or warm.
Over the months, Atticus has been growing more and more aware. He looks around and coos and laughs. He’s a happy baby! When he cries, he’s quick and to the point; He lets me know he needs something and once he gets it he settles right down. One time, though, I heard him absolutely screaming. He was wailing like he was in pain, and I tore into his bedroom, sure that I would find him tangled up in his blankets or choking on his milk, but it was Mr. Peeks. Atticus was staring, wild-eyed into Mr. Peeks’ dusty eyes with a look of horror cracking his soft features. I cursed and swore; I told Mr. Peeks to go away. He did, but not before I saw his cheeks pull up again into a hyena’s grin.
If I ever had doubts as to whether Mr. Peeks is real, those are gone. I’ve lost any hope that he might be a brain tumor or the manifestation of childhood trauma or some other nonsense. Mr. Peeks is real, and he’s trying to come through. Every day he’s pushing at the membrane between his world and ours… I don’t know where Mr. Peeks comes from, but I bet it’s somewhere cold and dark. I bet he wanders there, looking for windows to peer in at my family. I bet he’s looking for a door.
Or maybe he’s already found one. I can see him now, on the other side, squeezing himself through like an octopus one tentacle at a time.
My wife has started to complain that the house always feels cold, and she’s asked me to locate the source of the odd odor that she’s always smelling. She says it smells like musty old books in our house, and she’s right. I tell her that it’s probably a dead rat in our wall, or some old piece of trash we neglected through the years. One night, she even talked to me about a nightmare where she saw a man with ‘wild, staring eyes looking at Atticus from behind the dresser.”
Last night was the worst.
I was dozing in my bed, not sleeping. I never really sleep anymore. I can’t when there’s something sniffing around my house, poking, and prodding, trying to get in. I’m supposed to keep my house safe, and I’m failing utterly. Atticus started to wail in a pitch I’d only heard once before. I tore into the nursery to find Atticus alone and the room so frigid that frost was creeping over the window.
I sprinted to my son’s side, and he wasn’t alone.
We keep Atticus in a little pillow that hugs him on all sides and keeps him from rolling over. It was a good idea, and it makes him feel safe. Mr. Peeks was leering from underneath, inches from my son’s face. His yellowed eyes were pulled open so wide that they were round and bugging like the eyes of a deep-sea fish. His irises trembled in their sockets, and I could see tears streaming down Mr. Peeks’ face.
Then, slowly, horribly… a long finger reached from under Atticus’s pillow and slowly caressed his face. The resulting scream pierced me like a needle, and I had Atticus in my arms in less than a second. He had a terrible, dark scratch on his face.
When I looked back, Mr. Peeks was gone again.
How much more of him will I see? What does he want with my son? It seems like only a matter of time before Mr. Peeks can come through completely. I’m lost. I’m completely hopeless. I just want to protect my son, and I have no idea what to do.
Mr. Peeks is here again today.
Oh, how I wish he’d go away.
submitted by Jack_Wight_Beat to scarystories [link] [comments]
I’ve had someone peeking at me for most of my life, he kind of reminds me of that poem by William Hughes Mearns. It goes:
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there!
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh how I wish he’d go away!
That’s only the first of three verses, but it’s a short poem.
The first time I saw Mr. Peeks, I was a child and that’s when I named him. You can’t really hold it against a 9-year-old when he’s being unoriginal. The name stuck, and his name is Mr. Peeks.
I call him Mr. Peeks because he’s never told me his name. Mr. Peeks doesn’t speak, he only looks at me. That shouldn’t be a surprise.
I’ve never seen the bottom half of Mr. Peeks’s head, only the top of his nose, his brow, and his eyes. I don’t like his eyes.
I want to say that Mr. Peeks is a man, but I don’t know if he is or not. I refer to him as a he, because he seems like a man, but his skin is the wrong color, and so are his eyes. If he is a man, he must be a very old man, because his forehead is creased with deep wrinkles. When I look at his head, I’m always reminded of a potato which has been left out for too long and is starting to sprout and rot.
I’m intentionally avoiding describing his eyes because I don’t like them. But I want to tell you about Mr. Peeks, and that’s the most important part. Mr. Peeks is just a pair of eyes, with a head like an afterthought.
His eyes are dry like chalky marbles rimmed with. Most people take it for granted that eyes are wet and shiny, but when you see dry eyes, the difference is immediately noticeable. You’d think that because his eyes are dry, they would seem dead and flat. They don’t. His eyes are incredibly alive and intelligent… and hateful.
Mr. Peeks hates me, and he’s always hated me. I can see it in his stare. His stare is wide and glaring with deep, sagging wrinkles. His eyes make him look sick or like he’s suffering because they’re so jaundiced, run through with purplish capillaries, and rimmed with irritated pink skin.
I think the skin around his eyes is probably pink like that because his eyes hurt. That probably explains why his eyes are so dry, too, because he never blinks. I’ve known Mr. Peeks for twenty-eight years, and he hasn’t blinked once.
I don’t think that Mr. Peek is here with me, at least not all the way, because he peeks from behind things that are too small for him to hide behind. The first time that I saw him I was in the shower, and he was peeking at me over the curtain. I remember feeling cold, despite being sprayed by water so hot that my skin was turning lobster-red. When I looked up, there he was. He was peeking over the shower curtain. He was just the desiccated top of a head, and wide yellow eyes like terrible saucers.
I was too scared to scream for help, and the sheer weirdness of him piqued a morbid curiosity. He was peeking over the top of the curtain rod, which was maybe an inch wide, and I could see the bottom of the curtain rod because our shower rings were big. I couldn’t see the bottom half of his face at all. At nine, I reasoned that the bottom half of his face must have been somewhere else, along with the rest of his body.
I was glad that the bottom half was somewhere else because I could tell by his eyes that Mr. Peeks would really like to hurt me. His stare was so wide and intense that his eyelids were trembling. It gave his stare and unpleasant vibrating quality that made his eyes look like they were buzzing at me.
If you keep staring at Mr. Peeks he’ll stare right back, and he won’t ever go away unless you look away or run and hide. I ran out of the shower, and when I looked behind me there was nothing on the outside of the shower curtain.
After that, I would see Mr. Peeks every now and then. Sometimes he peeked from outside, but mostly Mr. Peeks likes to be inside with me. I also know that Mr. Peeks doesn’t like the sunlight, because if he comes out in the daylight, he’s careful to never let it fall directly on him. I’ll bet that the sun hurts him, that would make sense to me.
I won’t catalogue every time that I saw Mr. Peeks because that wouldn’t be worth reading (he showed up hundreds of times) and because most of the time it wasn’t any different. I would be doing something then I’d feel cold and numb. Whenever I got that feeling, I knew he’d be somewhere in the room with me… well, as in as he could seem to get. I’d look around frantically for him, because I didn’t like it when he was too close to me. Sometimes he’ll show up inches from my face, and I really don’t like that. When he’s that close I can smell him, and he smells like old dust and cobwebs; The way a tool shed might if left abandoned for years.
Most of time, though, he’s a couple feet away or across the room. I think he likes to peek from impossible places to show off. I think he wants me to know that he’s something impossible and strange. He likes to scare me. I’ll see him peeking from behind a milk carton on the counter, or out of the sink; One time I saw him peeking from inside my crockpot. Sometimes I’ve caught him peeking out of cabinets or through small holes, but not usually. He doesn’t like me to miss him; It makes him angry.
He’s been with me for years, he’ll show up with his silent glare and then disappear after I blink him away. I’ll confirm where he is and then go back to what I’m doing and ignore him. I think this makes him angrier, but after so many months and years I’ve started to get used to him. I got complacent with him.
Once I grew up and hit my teenage years, I was even less affected by it. I toyed with the idea that I might be insane for a while, but then I flicked a rock at Mr. Peeks and it bounced off his forehead. He didn’t move at all, but his irises faded from deep ultramarine to a blue so pale that they were almost white. I could feel his rage boiling out of him from his hiding place and I decided to never push my luck like that again.
I graduated high school, then college, then I joined the military. None of that is important, so I won’t go into it, but Mr. Peeks was there the entire time. By the time I was in my mid-thirties Mr. Peeks had become my quiet companion. I never liked Mr. Peeks, in fact I hate him. I just got used to him. Hell, he was there on my wedding day peeking from behind the coleslaw.
Now I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve had a son, and now things are starting to change.
Mr. Peeks was peeking over Atticus’s bassinet on the night he was born, and that was the first time that it was different. His hateful eyes ignored me completely, he was looking at my son. His eyes were wide and feverish, and his pale pupils were dilated like an addict’s. I looked away, and looked back, and he was still there. This time, he was looking at me again, the same hateful gaze I’d come to know so well. When I was finally able to blink, he was gone.
It didn’t get better when we took Atticus home. Mr. Peeks, who I would normally see about once a month, started to show up more frequently, and only when I was with Atticus. One time, he hung around for almost an hour and no matter how often I blinked or looked away he would be there. I’ve taken to leaving all the lights on in my house all the time, prompting my wife to ask what the Hell is wrong with me, because the lights make it harder for the baby to sleep. I don’t want to let her know that I’m trying to do it to protect him.
Mr. Peeks is even outside now. I’ve started taking Atticus outside as often as possible so that we can both stay safe in the sun. It’s not working. I see Mr. Peeks behind stone walls and in tree branches. After decades of Mr. Peeks, I had convinced myself that he was benign. Now, I know that’s not the case.
I found Mr. Peeks behind Atticus’s crib, and although I could still only see the top of his head, his cheeks and his eyes were upturned; I knew that Mr. Peeks was smiling. It wasn’t a kind smile. Nothing about Mr. Peeks is kind or warm.
Over the months, Atticus has been growing more and more aware. He looks around and coos and laughs. He’s a happy baby! When he cries, he’s quick and to the point; He lets me know he needs something and once he gets it he settles right down. One time, though, I heard him absolutely screaming. He was wailing like he was in pain, and I tore into his bedroom, sure that I would find him tangled up in his blankets or choking on his milk, but it was Mr. Peeks. Atticus was staring, wild-eyed into Mr. Peeks’ dusty eyes with a look of horror cracking his soft features. I cursed and swore; I told Mr. Peeks to go away. He did, but not before I saw his cheeks pull up again into a hyena’s grin.
If I ever had doubts as to whether Mr. Peeks is real, those are gone. I’ve lost any hope that he might be a brain tumor or the manifestation of childhood trauma or some other nonsense. Mr. Peeks is real, and he’s trying to come through. Every day he’s pushing at the membrane between his world and ours… I don’t know where Mr. Peeks comes from, but I bet it’s somewhere cold and dark. I bet he wanders there, looking for windows to peer in at my family. I bet he’s looking for a door.
Or maybe he’s already found one. I can see him now, on the other side, squeezing himself through like an octopus one tentacle at a time.
My wife has started to complain that the house always feels cold, and she’s asked me to locate the source of the odd odor that she’s always smelling. She says it smells like musty old books in our house, and she’s right. I tell her that it’s probably a dead rat in our wall, or some old piece of trash we neglected through the years. One night, she even talked to me about a nightmare where she saw a man with ‘wild, staring eyes looking at Atticus from behind the dresser.”
Last night was the worst.
I was dozing in my bed, not sleeping. I never really sleep anymore. I can’t when there’s something sniffing around my house, poking, and prodding, trying to get in. I’m supposed to keep my house safe, and I’m failing utterly. Atticus started to wail in a pitch I’d only heard once before. I tore into the nursery to find Atticus alone and the room so frigid that frost was creeping over the window.
I sprinted to my son’s side, and he wasn’t alone.
We keep Atticus in a little pillow that hugs him on all sides and keeps him from rolling over. It was a good idea, and it makes him feel safe. Mr. Peeks was leering from underneath, inches from my son’s face. His yellowed eyes were pulled open so wide that they were round and bugging like the eyes of a deep-sea fish. His irises trembled in their sockets, and I could see tears streaming down Mr. Peeks’ face.
Then, slowly, horribly… a long finger reached from under Atticus’s pillow and slowly caressed his face. The resulting scream pierced me like a needle, and I had Atticus in my arms in less than a second. He had a terrible, dark scratch on his face.
When I looked back, Mr. Peeks was gone again.
How much more of him will I see? What does he want with my son? It seems like only a matter of time before Mr. Peeks can come through completely. I’m lost. I’m completely hopeless. I just want to protect my son, and I have no idea what to do.
Mr. Peeks is here again today.
Oh, how I wish he’d go away.
2024.05.10 17:34 Jack_Wight_Beat I think something wants to take my son.
I'm at a loss, let me explain:
I’ve had someone peeking at me for most of my life, he kind of reminds me of that poem by William Hughes Mearns. It goes:
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there!
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh how I wish he’d go away!
That’s only the first of three verses, but it’s a short poem.
The first time I saw Mr. Peeks, I was a child and that’s when I named him. You can’t really hold it against a 9-year-old when he’s being unoriginal. The name stuck, and his name is Mr. Peeks.
I call him Mr. Peeks because he’s never told me his name. Mr. Peeks doesn’t speak, he only looks at me. That shouldn’t be a surprise.
I’ve never seen the bottom half of Mr. Peeks’s head, only the top of his nose, his brow, and his eyes. I don’t like his eyes.
I want to say that Mr. Peeks is a man, but I don’t know if he is or not. I refer to him as a he, because he seems like a man, but his skin is the wrong color, and so are his eyes. If he is a man, he must be a very old man, because his forehead is creased with deep wrinkles. When I look at his head, I’m always reminded of a potato which has been left out for too long and is starting to sprout and rot.
I’m intentionally avoiding describing his eyes because I don’t like them. But I want to tell you about Mr. Peeks, and that’s the most important part. Mr. Peeks is just a pair of eyes, with a head like an afterthought.
His eyes are dry like chalky marbles rimmed with. Most people take it for granted that eyes are wet and shiny, but when you see dry eyes, the difference is immediately noticeable. You’d think that because his eyes are dry, they would seem dead and flat. They don’t. His eyes are incredibly alive and intelligent… and hateful.
Mr. Peeks hates me, and he’s always hated me. I can see it in his stare. His stare is wide and glaring with deep, sagging wrinkles. His eyes make him look sick or like he’s suffering because they’re so jaundiced, run through with purplish capillaries, and rimmed with irritated pink skin.
I think the skin around his eyes is probably pink like that because his eyes hurt. That probably explains why his eyes are so dry, too, because he never blinks. I’ve known Mr. Peeks for twenty-eight years, and he hasn’t blinked once.
I don’t think that Mr. Peek is here with me, at least not all the way, because he peeks from behind things that are too small for him to hide behind. The first time that I saw him I was in the shower, and he was peeking at me over the curtain. I remember feeling cold, despite being sprayed by water so hot that my skin was turning lobster-red. When I looked up, there he was. He was peeking over the shower curtain. He was just the desiccated top of a head, and wide yellow eyes like terrible saucers.
I was too scared to scream for help, and the sheer weirdness of him piqued a morbid curiosity. He was peeking over the top of the curtain rod, which was maybe an inch wide, and I could see the bottom of the curtain rod because our shower rings were big. I couldn’t see the bottom half of his face at all. At nine, I reasoned that the bottom half of his face must have been somewhere else, along with the rest of his body.
I was glad that the bottom half was somewhere else because I could tell by his eyes that Mr. Peeks would really like to hurt me. His stare was so wide and intense that his eyelids were trembling. It gave his stare and unpleasant vibrating quality that made his eyes look like they were buzzing at me.
If you keep staring at Mr. Peeks he’ll stare right back, and he won’t ever go away unless you look away or run and hide. I ran out of the shower, and when I looked behind me there was nothing on the outside of the shower curtain.
After that, I would see Mr. Peeks every now and then. Sometimes he peeked from outside, but mostly Mr. Peeks likes to be inside with me. I also know that Mr. Peeks doesn’t like the sunlight, because if he comes out in the daylight, he’s careful to never let it fall directly on him. I’ll bet that the sun hurts him, that would make sense to me.
I won’t catalogue every time that I saw Mr. Peeks because that wouldn’t be worth reading (he showed up hundreds of times) and because most of the time it wasn’t any different. I would be doing something then I’d feel cold and numb. Whenever I got that feeling, I knew he’d be somewhere in the room with me… well, as in as he could seem to get. I’d look around frantically for him, because I didn’t like it when he was too close to me. Sometimes he’ll show up inches from my face, and I really don’t like that. When he’s that close I can smell him, and he smells like old dust and cobwebs; The way a tool shed might if left abandoned for years.
Most of time, though, he’s a couple feet away or across the room. I think he likes to peek from impossible places to show off. I think he wants me to know that he’s something impossible and strange. He likes to scare me. I’ll see him peeking from behind a milk carton on the counter, or out of the sink; One time I saw him peeking from inside my crockpot. Sometimes I’ve caught him peeking out of cabinets or through small holes, but not usually. He doesn’t like me to miss him; It makes him angry.
He’s been with me for years, he’ll show up with his silent glare and then disappear after I blink him away. I’ll confirm where he is and then go back to what I’m doing and ignore him. I think this makes him angrier, but after so many months and years I’ve started to get used to him. I got complacent with him.
Once I grew up and hit my teenage years, I was even less affected by it. I toyed with the idea that I might be insane for a while, but then I flicked a rock at Mr. Peeks and it bounced off his forehead. He didn’t move at all, but his irises faded from deep ultramarine to a blue so pale that they were almost white. I could feel his rage boiling out of him from his hiding place and I decided to never push my luck like that again.
I graduated high school, then college, then I joined the military. None of that is important, so I won’t go into it, but Mr. Peeks was there the entire time. By the time I was in my mid-thirties Mr. Peeks had become my quiet companion. I never liked Mr. Peeks, in fact I hate him. I just got used to him. Hell, he was there on my wedding day peeking from behind the coleslaw.
Now I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve had a son, and now things are starting to change.
Mr. Peeks was peeking over Atticus’s bassinet on the night he was born, and that was the first time that it was different. His hateful eyes ignored me completely, he was looking at my son. His eyes were wide and feverish, and his pale pupils were dilated like an addict’s. I looked away, and looked back, and he was still there. This time, he was looking at me again, the same hateful gaze I’d come to know so well. When I was finally able to blink, he was gone.
It didn’t get better when we took Atticus home. Mr. Peeks, who I would normally see about once a month, started to show up more frequently, and only when I was with Atticus. One time, he hung around for almost an hour and no matter how often I blinked or looked away he would be there. I’ve taken to leaving all the lights on in my house all the time, prompting my wife to ask what the Hell is wrong with me, because the lights make it harder for the baby to sleep. I don’t want to let her know that I’m trying to do it to protect him.
Mr. Peeks is even outside now. I’ve started taking Atticus outside as often as possible so that we can both stay safe in the sun. It’s not working. I see Mr. Peeks behind stone walls and in tree branches. After decades of Mr. Peeks, I had convinced myself that he was benign. Now, I know that’s not the case.
I found Mr. Peeks behind Atticus’s crib, and although I could still only see the top of his head, his cheeks and his eyes were upturned; I knew that Mr. Peeks was smiling. It wasn’t a kind smile. Nothing about Mr. Peeks is kind or warm.
Over the months, Atticus has been growing more and more aware. He looks around and coos and laughs. He’s a happy baby! When he cries, he’s quick and to the point; He lets me know he needs something and once he gets it he settles right down. One time, though, I heard him absolutely screaming. He was wailing like he was in pain, and I tore into his bedroom, sure that I would find him tangled up in his blankets or choking on his milk, but it was Mr. Peeks. Atticus was staring, wild-eyed into Mr. Peeks’ dusty eyes with a look of horror cracking his soft features. I cursed and swore; I told Mr. Peeks to go away. He did, but not before I saw his cheeks pull up again into a hyena’s grin.
If I ever had doubts as to whether Mr. Peeks is real, those are gone. I’ve lost any hope that he might be a brain tumor or the manifestation of childhood trauma or some other nonsense. Mr. Peeks is real, and he’s trying to come through. Every day he’s pushing at the membrane between his world and ours… I don’t know where Mr. Peeks comes from, but I bet it’s somewhere cold and dark. I bet he wanders there, looking for windows to peer in at my family. I bet he’s looking for a door.
Or maybe he’s already found one. I can see him now, on the other side, squeezing himself through like an octopus one tentacle at a time.
My wife has started to complain that the house always feels cold, and she’s asked me to locate the source of the odd odor that she’s always smelling. She says it smells like musty old books in our house, and she’s right. I tell her that it’s probably a dead rat in our wall, or some old piece of trash we neglected through the years. One night, she even talked to me about a nightmare where she saw a man with ‘wild, staring eyes looking at Atticus from behind the dresser.”
Last night was the worst.
I was dozing in my bed, not sleeping. I never really sleep anymore. I can’t when there’s something sniffing around my house, poking, and prodding, trying to get in. I’m supposed to keep my house safe, and I’m failing utterly. Atticus started to wail in a pitch I’d only heard once before. I tore into the nursery to find Atticus alone and the room so frigid that frost was creeping over the window.
I sprinted to my son’s side, and he wasn’t alone.
We keep Atticus in a little pillow that hugs him on all sides and keeps him from rolling over. It was a good idea, and it makes him feel safe. Mr. Peeks was leering from underneath, inches from my son’s face. His yellowed eyes were pulled open so wide that they were round and bugging like the eyes of a deep-sea fish. His irises trembled in their sockets, and I could see tears streaming down Mr. Peeks’ face.
Then, slowly, horribly… a long finger reached from under Atticus’s pillow and slowly caressed his face. The resulting scream pierced me like a needle, and I had Atticus in my arms in less than a second. He had a terrible, dark scratch on his face.
When I looked back, Mr. Peeks was gone again.
How much more of him will I see? What does he want with my son? It seems like only a matter of time before Mr. Peeks can come through completely. I’m lost. I’m completely hopeless. I just want to protect my son, and I have no idea what to do.
Mr. Peeks is here again today.
Oh, how I wish he’d go away.
submitted by Jack_Wight_Beat to nosleep [link] [comments]
I’ve had someone peeking at me for most of my life, he kind of reminds me of that poem by William Hughes Mearns. It goes:
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there!
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh how I wish he’d go away!
That’s only the first of three verses, but it’s a short poem.
The first time I saw Mr. Peeks, I was a child and that’s when I named him. You can’t really hold it against a 9-year-old when he’s being unoriginal. The name stuck, and his name is Mr. Peeks.
I call him Mr. Peeks because he’s never told me his name. Mr. Peeks doesn’t speak, he only looks at me. That shouldn’t be a surprise.
I’ve never seen the bottom half of Mr. Peeks’s head, only the top of his nose, his brow, and his eyes. I don’t like his eyes.
I want to say that Mr. Peeks is a man, but I don’t know if he is or not. I refer to him as a he, because he seems like a man, but his skin is the wrong color, and so are his eyes. If he is a man, he must be a very old man, because his forehead is creased with deep wrinkles. When I look at his head, I’m always reminded of a potato which has been left out for too long and is starting to sprout and rot.
I’m intentionally avoiding describing his eyes because I don’t like them. But I want to tell you about Mr. Peeks, and that’s the most important part. Mr. Peeks is just a pair of eyes, with a head like an afterthought.
His eyes are dry like chalky marbles rimmed with. Most people take it for granted that eyes are wet and shiny, but when you see dry eyes, the difference is immediately noticeable. You’d think that because his eyes are dry, they would seem dead and flat. They don’t. His eyes are incredibly alive and intelligent… and hateful.
Mr. Peeks hates me, and he’s always hated me. I can see it in his stare. His stare is wide and glaring with deep, sagging wrinkles. His eyes make him look sick or like he’s suffering because they’re so jaundiced, run through with purplish capillaries, and rimmed with irritated pink skin.
I think the skin around his eyes is probably pink like that because his eyes hurt. That probably explains why his eyes are so dry, too, because he never blinks. I’ve known Mr. Peeks for twenty-eight years, and he hasn’t blinked once.
I don’t think that Mr. Peek is here with me, at least not all the way, because he peeks from behind things that are too small for him to hide behind. The first time that I saw him I was in the shower, and he was peeking at me over the curtain. I remember feeling cold, despite being sprayed by water so hot that my skin was turning lobster-red. When I looked up, there he was. He was peeking over the shower curtain. He was just the desiccated top of a head, and wide yellow eyes like terrible saucers.
I was too scared to scream for help, and the sheer weirdness of him piqued a morbid curiosity. He was peeking over the top of the curtain rod, which was maybe an inch wide, and I could see the bottom of the curtain rod because our shower rings were big. I couldn’t see the bottom half of his face at all. At nine, I reasoned that the bottom half of his face must have been somewhere else, along with the rest of his body.
I was glad that the bottom half was somewhere else because I could tell by his eyes that Mr. Peeks would really like to hurt me. His stare was so wide and intense that his eyelids were trembling. It gave his stare and unpleasant vibrating quality that made his eyes look like they were buzzing at me.
If you keep staring at Mr. Peeks he’ll stare right back, and he won’t ever go away unless you look away or run and hide. I ran out of the shower, and when I looked behind me there was nothing on the outside of the shower curtain.
After that, I would see Mr. Peeks every now and then. Sometimes he peeked from outside, but mostly Mr. Peeks likes to be inside with me. I also know that Mr. Peeks doesn’t like the sunlight, because if he comes out in the daylight, he’s careful to never let it fall directly on him. I’ll bet that the sun hurts him, that would make sense to me.
I won’t catalogue every time that I saw Mr. Peeks because that wouldn’t be worth reading (he showed up hundreds of times) and because most of the time it wasn’t any different. I would be doing something then I’d feel cold and numb. Whenever I got that feeling, I knew he’d be somewhere in the room with me… well, as in as he could seem to get. I’d look around frantically for him, because I didn’t like it when he was too close to me. Sometimes he’ll show up inches from my face, and I really don’t like that. When he’s that close I can smell him, and he smells like old dust and cobwebs; The way a tool shed might if left abandoned for years.
Most of time, though, he’s a couple feet away or across the room. I think he likes to peek from impossible places to show off. I think he wants me to know that he’s something impossible and strange. He likes to scare me. I’ll see him peeking from behind a milk carton on the counter, or out of the sink; One time I saw him peeking from inside my crockpot. Sometimes I’ve caught him peeking out of cabinets or through small holes, but not usually. He doesn’t like me to miss him; It makes him angry.
He’s been with me for years, he’ll show up with his silent glare and then disappear after I blink him away. I’ll confirm where he is and then go back to what I’m doing and ignore him. I think this makes him angrier, but after so many months and years I’ve started to get used to him. I got complacent with him.
Once I grew up and hit my teenage years, I was even less affected by it. I toyed with the idea that I might be insane for a while, but then I flicked a rock at Mr. Peeks and it bounced off his forehead. He didn’t move at all, but his irises faded from deep ultramarine to a blue so pale that they were almost white. I could feel his rage boiling out of him from his hiding place and I decided to never push my luck like that again.
I graduated high school, then college, then I joined the military. None of that is important, so I won’t go into it, but Mr. Peeks was there the entire time. By the time I was in my mid-thirties Mr. Peeks had become my quiet companion. I never liked Mr. Peeks, in fact I hate him. I just got used to him. Hell, he was there on my wedding day peeking from behind the coleslaw.
Now I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve had a son, and now things are starting to change.
Mr. Peeks was peeking over Atticus’s bassinet on the night he was born, and that was the first time that it was different. His hateful eyes ignored me completely, he was looking at my son. His eyes were wide and feverish, and his pale pupils were dilated like an addict’s. I looked away, and looked back, and he was still there. This time, he was looking at me again, the same hateful gaze I’d come to know so well. When I was finally able to blink, he was gone.
It didn’t get better when we took Atticus home. Mr. Peeks, who I would normally see about once a month, started to show up more frequently, and only when I was with Atticus. One time, he hung around for almost an hour and no matter how often I blinked or looked away he would be there. I’ve taken to leaving all the lights on in my house all the time, prompting my wife to ask what the Hell is wrong with me, because the lights make it harder for the baby to sleep. I don’t want to let her know that I’m trying to do it to protect him.
Mr. Peeks is even outside now. I’ve started taking Atticus outside as often as possible so that we can both stay safe in the sun. It’s not working. I see Mr. Peeks behind stone walls and in tree branches. After decades of Mr. Peeks, I had convinced myself that he was benign. Now, I know that’s not the case.
I found Mr. Peeks behind Atticus’s crib, and although I could still only see the top of his head, his cheeks and his eyes were upturned; I knew that Mr. Peeks was smiling. It wasn’t a kind smile. Nothing about Mr. Peeks is kind or warm.
Over the months, Atticus has been growing more and more aware. He looks around and coos and laughs. He’s a happy baby! When he cries, he’s quick and to the point; He lets me know he needs something and once he gets it he settles right down. One time, though, I heard him absolutely screaming. He was wailing like he was in pain, and I tore into his bedroom, sure that I would find him tangled up in his blankets or choking on his milk, but it was Mr. Peeks. Atticus was staring, wild-eyed into Mr. Peeks’ dusty eyes with a look of horror cracking his soft features. I cursed and swore; I told Mr. Peeks to go away. He did, but not before I saw his cheeks pull up again into a hyena’s grin.
If I ever had doubts as to whether Mr. Peeks is real, those are gone. I’ve lost any hope that he might be a brain tumor or the manifestation of childhood trauma or some other nonsense. Mr. Peeks is real, and he’s trying to come through. Every day he’s pushing at the membrane between his world and ours… I don’t know where Mr. Peeks comes from, but I bet it’s somewhere cold and dark. I bet he wanders there, looking for windows to peer in at my family. I bet he’s looking for a door.
Or maybe he’s already found one. I can see him now, on the other side, squeezing himself through like an octopus one tentacle at a time.
My wife has started to complain that the house always feels cold, and she’s asked me to locate the source of the odd odor that she’s always smelling. She says it smells like musty old books in our house, and she’s right. I tell her that it’s probably a dead rat in our wall, or some old piece of trash we neglected through the years. One night, she even talked to me about a nightmare where she saw a man with ‘wild, staring eyes looking at Atticus from behind the dresser.”
Last night was the worst.
I was dozing in my bed, not sleeping. I never really sleep anymore. I can’t when there’s something sniffing around my house, poking, and prodding, trying to get in. I’m supposed to keep my house safe, and I’m failing utterly. Atticus started to wail in a pitch I’d only heard once before. I tore into the nursery to find Atticus alone and the room so frigid that frost was creeping over the window.
I sprinted to my son’s side, and he wasn’t alone.
We keep Atticus in a little pillow that hugs him on all sides and keeps him from rolling over. It was a good idea, and it makes him feel safe. Mr. Peeks was leering from underneath, inches from my son’s face. His yellowed eyes were pulled open so wide that they were round and bugging like the eyes of a deep-sea fish. His irises trembled in their sockets, and I could see tears streaming down Mr. Peeks’ face.
Then, slowly, horribly… a long finger reached from under Atticus’s pillow and slowly caressed his face. The resulting scream pierced me like a needle, and I had Atticus in my arms in less than a second. He had a terrible, dark scratch on his face.
When I looked back, Mr. Peeks was gone again.
How much more of him will I see? What does he want with my son? It seems like only a matter of time before Mr. Peeks can come through completely. I’m lost. I’m completely hopeless. I just want to protect my son, and I have no idea what to do.
Mr. Peeks is here again today.
Oh, how I wish he’d go away.
2024.05.10 14:22 MythicalMeep23 Like guys….the signs were neon and flashing 😅 how did you miss it??
 | But also though, why did they keep the poem?? 😂 It was in a drawer filled with multiple school assignments from when we were young and I decided to go through it one day never expecting I’d find that submitted by MythicalMeep23 to CPTSDmemes [link] [comments] |
2024.05.09 20:26 SonicCody12 Spike the Jumper: Gale takes flight and Conquering the Storm
Twilight was deep in thought about Spike's Team of Choice. Inferno the Combusken, Geo the Gible, and Lenard the Trapinch "So he decided to send two newest additions to battle? Why? "
"Pause." Pee Wee said shocking everyone "Yes I can speak common now then. The Reason why he chose Lenard and Geo was because of their typing. Ground is Immune to Electric type attacks....but Wattson had a few tricks up his sleeves" Pee Wee Explained "But First Spike decided to give Gale some training allowing her to evolve and to learn some new moves. She'll be helpful for a different region later."
"Observe" Buddy said pointing at the screen "Play." The playback resumed and it showed spike training Gale causing the little worm to become a strange green cocoon creature). Then the Cocoon bust open to reveal a purple butterfly). "See? Now then time for Wattson" The scene shifted to Spike stepping up to Wattson
"Well, well! Welcome to the Mauville Gym. I'm Wattson" Wattson laughed as he welcomed Spike
"Spike. Well you know why I am here right?"
"You bet. Pick Three Pokemon kid." Spike shuffled through his pockets
"Got them" Spike responds
"MAGNEMITE! GO!"
"LENARD! YOU'RE UP!"
Announcer: A GREAT SLAM AND THEN SOME! ITS ON!
Wattson laughs at the Pokémon that spike sent out first "Not surprising Ground type is immune to electric type attacks but don't get cocky!" Spike's eyes narrowed (Author's note: and here's where the script becomes....a suggestion instead) "Sonic boom" Shocking most watching While it didn't do much damage, Sonic boom wasn't a nove that Wattson's Magnemite would use normally "Didn't see that comming huh?" Spike shook off the shock
"Mud slap!" Spike commanded as the Antlion lands the attack. While it does go down. Spike was now concern
"Voltorb you're next" The living Pokeball was sent out.
"Bulldoze!"
"ROLL OUT!" And Spike felt a sudden chill when he heard this attack. While Bulldoze does hit and Ground resist Rock. Rollout packed a punch. "You look a bit scared there youngster." Wattson observed
"Uhh....Mudslap?" And unfortunately the attack missed and the Rollout continues which takes down the bug.
"Well now we are one for one." Wattson said. "Let this be a lesson type effectiveness and STAB aren't everything." Wattson then mutters darkly "If only a certain Flying type Gym leader would learn this."
"Huh?" Spike tilted his head in confusion
"Don't mind me" Wattson said with a smile
"Right Geo you're next " The little Baby Shark Dragon was out and looked eager to fight. "Sand Tomb" The Gust of wind ensnares and damages the sphere knocking it out.
"Hmmm" Wattson nodded "Let's see how well you can keep up with the momentum!. Magneton" The final Pokémon a cluster of Magnemite.
"PAUSE!" Rainbow yelled "CHEATER!"
"Yeah I should have seen this coming. Some Pokémon look like they are just multiple Pokémon stuck together but trust me that is a singular Pokémon. Play."
"Boss! Be careful! Something is up!" Geo warned
"Huh?:
"Supersonic!" And there it was a loud shriek caused Geo to be confused due to the sensory overload.
"Oh thats not good." Spike mutters "You know what? I am not even gonna chance it. Geo return!" Spike called back Gibble. "Inferno." the Combusken was released.
"Ready!"
"DOUBLE KICK!" Spike commanded but...
"Thunderwave." Another surprise. Because now Combusken was paralyze and couldn't move
"EHHH?!"
"Magnet Bomb."
"Power through the Paralysis and use Ember." the Magnet Bomb hits but thankfully Inferno was able to use ember.
"Hmm I think i see what you mean by surprises Pee Wee." Twilight commented as the fight plays out
"Yeah Wattson maybe jolly and laid back he is a gym leader." Pee wee said in agreement. "And I hated it. Being paralyzed like that meant that I couldn't move as fast at the moment AND it made hard to get an attack out....so. Yeah Spike had to switch to."
"GEO!" the Gible had returned. Thankfully the confusion was gone "Sand Tomb."
"Super Sonic" Once again Geo was confused....Spike decided to just go for it. "Take down!" and to his relief Geo didn't hit himself from confusion, was able to get the attack out, and...…Magneton goes down.
"Well done" Wattson congratulated but then Geo began to glow and change. Now it looked more dragon like#By_leveling_up). "And your Gible evolved into Gabite! Now for beating you have earned this." Wattson hands Spike the Dynamo Badge. "Now before you run off to go challenge the next gym you might want to revisit some of the areas that you been to. Because Flannery can be trouble." Then Narrator Spike chimed
"Wattson didn't know how right he was. Because just when it looked like my journey was going to be normal from here on out. I was wrong....on a legendary scale"
submitted by SonicCody12 to JumpChain [link] [comments]
"Pause." Pee Wee said shocking everyone "Yes I can speak common now then. The Reason why he chose Lenard and Geo was because of their typing. Ground is Immune to Electric type attacks....but Wattson had a few tricks up his sleeves" Pee Wee Explained "But First Spike decided to give Gale some training allowing her to evolve and to learn some new moves. She'll be helpful for a different region later."
"Observe" Buddy said pointing at the screen "Play." The playback resumed and it showed spike training Gale causing the little worm to become a strange green cocoon creature). Then the Cocoon bust open to reveal a purple butterfly). "See? Now then time for Wattson" The scene shifted to Spike stepping up to Wattson
"Well, well! Welcome to the Mauville Gym. I'm Wattson" Wattson laughed as he welcomed Spike
"Spike. Well you know why I am here right?"
"You bet. Pick Three Pokemon kid." Spike shuffled through his pockets
"Got them" Spike responds
"MAGNEMITE! GO!"
"LENARD! YOU'RE UP!"
Announcer: A GREAT SLAM AND THEN SOME! ITS ON!
Wattson laughs at the Pokémon that spike sent out first "Not surprising Ground type is immune to electric type attacks but don't get cocky!" Spike's eyes narrowed (Author's note: and here's where the script becomes....a suggestion instead) "Sonic boom" Shocking most watching While it didn't do much damage, Sonic boom wasn't a nove that Wattson's Magnemite would use normally "Didn't see that comming huh?" Spike shook off the shock
"Mud slap!" Spike commanded as the Antlion lands the attack. While it does go down. Spike was now concern
"Voltorb you're next" The living Pokeball was sent out.
"Bulldoze!"
"ROLL OUT!" And Spike felt a sudden chill when he heard this attack. While Bulldoze does hit and Ground resist Rock. Rollout packed a punch. "You look a bit scared there youngster." Wattson observed
"Uhh....Mudslap?" And unfortunately the attack missed and the Rollout continues which takes down the bug.
"Well now we are one for one." Wattson said. "Let this be a lesson type effectiveness and STAB aren't everything." Wattson then mutters darkly "If only a certain Flying type Gym leader would learn this."
"Huh?" Spike tilted his head in confusion
"Don't mind me" Wattson said with a smile
"Right Geo you're next " The little Baby Shark Dragon was out and looked eager to fight. "Sand Tomb" The Gust of wind ensnares and damages the sphere knocking it out.
"Hmmm" Wattson nodded "Let's see how well you can keep up with the momentum!. Magneton" The final Pokémon a cluster of Magnemite.
"PAUSE!" Rainbow yelled "CHEATER!"
"Yeah I should have seen this coming. Some Pokémon look like they are just multiple Pokémon stuck together but trust me that is a singular Pokémon. Play."
"Boss! Be careful! Something is up!" Geo warned
"Huh?:
"Supersonic!" And there it was a loud shriek caused Geo to be confused due to the sensory overload.
"Oh thats not good." Spike mutters "You know what? I am not even gonna chance it. Geo return!" Spike called back Gibble. "Inferno." the Combusken was released.
"Ready!"
"DOUBLE KICK!" Spike commanded but...
"Thunderwave." Another surprise. Because now Combusken was paralyze and couldn't move
"EHHH?!"
"Magnet Bomb."
"Power through the Paralysis and use Ember." the Magnet Bomb hits but thankfully Inferno was able to use ember.
"Hmm I think i see what you mean by surprises Pee Wee." Twilight commented as the fight plays out
"Yeah Wattson maybe jolly and laid back he is a gym leader." Pee wee said in agreement. "And I hated it. Being paralyzed like that meant that I couldn't move as fast at the moment AND it made hard to get an attack out....so. Yeah Spike had to switch to."
"GEO!" the Gible had returned. Thankfully the confusion was gone "Sand Tomb."
"Super Sonic" Once again Geo was confused....Spike decided to just go for it. "Take down!" and to his relief Geo didn't hit himself from confusion, was able to get the attack out, and...…Magneton goes down.
"Well done" Wattson congratulated but then Geo began to glow and change. Now it looked more dragon like#By_leveling_up). "And your Gible evolved into Gabite! Now for beating you have earned this." Wattson hands Spike the Dynamo Badge. "Now before you run off to go challenge the next gym you might want to revisit some of the areas that you been to. Because Flannery can be trouble." Then Narrator Spike chimed
"Wattson didn't know how right he was. Because just when it looked like my journey was going to be normal from here on out. I was wrong....on a legendary scale"
2024.05.08 23:36 dwarfpl4nets [RF] To Us Who Were Beautiful
To Us Who Were Beautiful
November The Cherry Tree Institute of Edinburgh
The ghosts in the library never speak. Perhaps the pounding rainfall trickling down the windows was too heavy for their souls to bear. So, they kept silent. Youthful secrets and dreams spanning centuries have been etched into the dust bunnies of the tomes and crannies, with echoes of the ghosts becoming one with the dust and the scent of cedarwood. They haunted the students, comforted them, lent them a shoulder to cry on, and protected their secrets and insecurities until time immemorial. Hopeless romantics, poets, aspiring physicists, and dreamers… they found sanctuary amidst the pain and stress of what’s to come in this sacred cocoon of knowledge. Even the pounding rainfall felt like a dear friend to them.
Two aspiring souls frequented the library that year – the snow-kissed twin prodigies Magnus and Camilla Laurent, who frantically scrutinized their textbooks and poems together near the ancient arch entrance of the library, right by the tea kettles, ladders, and candle lights. These two not only possessed elegant platinum-white locks and harsh, amethyst eyes, but also stood towering amongst their fellow adult students despite being just shy of 12. Silent and reserved, they commanded resentment and envy, not unlike most scholars at The Cherry Tree Institute, except their youth was a feat to be respected of above all others. The twins knew their strengths, and though they weren’t the best with words, anyone who reviewed their thesis essays, short narratives, and poems would feel a pang of inspiration at the sight of their eloquence. Such as the tale goes.
Young Camilla -- bless her soul -- quite enjoyed the attention and gossip she drew from students and astonished professors, and though she had no use for the popularity, seeing as she had no friends, the validation motivated her to overwork herself until the dead of night just one more time. Magnus, the smirking one with the oval frames and the deep voice, always sauntered just behind his older sister through the university, his expression foggy, yet his gemstone eyes piercing and poised. This boy’s arrogance sat juxtaposed his sensible mind and attentiveness.
And so, the erudite lifted his quill, positioned it between his pinky and middle finger as he always does, sipped his chamomile, scarfed down his cookie, scribbled the finishing touches on his argumentative essay, and rests his leather loafers on the wooden seat beside him. His fingers naturally glide towards his temples and silver brows.
“Hypertension again?’’, Camilla mentions, ‘’Think I may have some ibuprofen in my purse. I asked the canteen ladies if there was a lot of sodium in the rice and fries and there was. Now I think I may get a headache soon.” Her half-opened eyes drifted towards her notebooks and coffee-stained papers, and she breathed a sigh for the first time all night. Excess sodium and sugar hindered the twins’ studying capabilities, but with most of the food being served consisting of bland fruits and vegetables, it’s no wonder why the students turn to junk food for comfort. They cursed their headaches each day.
Camilla, with a slight twitch in her eye, glanced at the quill and papers on her brother’s desk and raised her voice. ‘’You’re finished already? Seriously?’’ Magnus lifts open his eyelids in confusion. ‘’Yes? Lower your voice.’’, he says tiredly.
Camilla softly scoffs, shakes her head, and continues flipping through the atlas beside her. ‘’Beautiful.’’ Her pile of open tomes was several times bigger than on her brother’s side.
This piques his attention. He softly closes his open books and readjusts his frames before speaking. ‘’I know you know, Camilla. What Professor Evangeline said to me today. You could have stayed in the room with me, but you didn’t, you just hid yourself in the corner.’’
‘’Yes, I know.’’, she utters, avoiding eye contact. To which statement she was responding to was unclear. Her eyes almost seem to glisten for a split-second. ‘’Magnus never stops, does he?’, she thought. ‘’Sucking up to the professors just to make me jealous. It’s as if he’s a different person entirely when speaking to them. God… this happens all the time.’’ Camilla softly clutches the back of her head as she sips her chamomile and reads, the bags under her eyes growing ever more prevalent. She didn’t feel beautiful or smart while studying tonight, for some reason. This wasn’t like her. The rain and the joyful pianists practicing a soft rendition of Mariage d’Amour across the burgundy-colored walls and chandeliers of the library ticked her off. More than it should have, at least.
Magnus, seemingly wanting to leave the discussion at that, nodded slowly while swallowing the ibuprofen with the remaining chamomile. His turtleneck was left stained with droplets of tea. This boy can read Camilla’s mind they way she can read the entire row of bookshelves in just a week.
‘’I’m going. I guess you’re not coming with?’’ The sarcasm in his voice was feint but clearly noticeable. When Camilla failed to answer, he softly said ‘’There’s a good reason why you got into this school, and it’s because of what you’re doing right now. You should be more than thankful. Just wanted to let you know.’’
‘’Do you think you’re better than me?’’, she quickly spatted. ‘’…’’
Magnus never once had to work as hard as her to succeed. Not once. But Camilla knew she had no right to complain about her brother when she had been gifted this opportunity to study in the place her beloved historians, authors, and scientists did decades ago, and at such a young age as well. But she had a crystal-clear vision for herself in life, one even clearer than her brother. One of riches, success, envy, admiration, and peace. The twins knew suffering and poverty like it was a dear friend before arriving at this cathedral of wonder, filled with adults who thought and pursued the exact same goals.
‘’Yes…’’, he finally answered with a smirk and a scoff, ‘’Yes, everyone knows that I’m better than you.’’
Magnus stood up and looked down at her with pity and annoyance, his headache still present. Though she was a few inches taller than him, she couldn’t help but cower against his intellectual prowess. His eyes were still piercing purple. Camilla had been known to pass out due to exhaustion on several occasions, but Magnus had never insisted on her resting, not when she’s such a stubborn person. After all, it wasn’t any of his concern what his sister decided to do in her life. He did what he could, and she wouldn’t listen, so why bother? Magnus understood her feelings, but why is she this panicked about this when she’s more gifted than almost every other person here? He huffed an angry sigh collected his belongings, unclear of the expression Camilla was making behind him.
In a bizarrely calm voice, Camilla asked ‘’If I asked you to quit this school for me, would you do it?’’
‘’Of course, I would. If I had enough credits to graduate, that is. I’d choose my career over you any day of my life, Camilla. Sorry.’’
‘’Hm. I had a feeling but, you know, it sucks to hear you say that. Thank you. You’ll be done with this school in a few months anyway. Maybe you should find someplace else to do your homework, since you clearly don’t need shit here.’’
‘’I’ll do that then. We’ll meet in the canteen tomorrow.?
‘’No, I just… leave me alone for a few weeks alright? Our exams are right around the corner. You distract me.’’
‘’…’’ Magnus slowly nods, strolling towards the arch entrance and passing by the studious adults who give him respectful nods. He quickly steps out into the enchanted blue night without his umbrella, suffering from the most extreme headache of his life. Camilla Laurent, with her forehead pounding, – bless her soul – expressionlessly shed a single tear as she gathered more of her missing assignments, textbooks, and coffee, ready to spend one more night suffering in silence… in the haunted library surrounded by ghosts.
The ghosts of the library would hold onto this secret exchange until the end of time itself. For their tragedy will never be known, but their regret will forever be felt.
Epilogue And that was that. Those few weeks turned into a month, that month turned into several, until Magnus Laurent, the youngest student to have ever enrolled at The Cherry Tree Institute of Edinburgh at age 12, was crowned with his bachelor’s degree in Greek literature. Magnus was revered by his peers and professors with the respect he deserved, and he embraced this attention, just like his sister once did long ago. He never did approach his twin, nor did Camilla approach him. They lost contact with one another, and whether Camilla achieved her dream of becoming who she wanted to represent in life or not, Magnus wished nothing but the best for her.
Magnus Laurent would eventually spend his life honored as one of the most captivating authors and poets of his time, winning numerous accolades and inspiring future generations – including those who studied where he once did – to achieve the life he has. His only regret in life up until the end was not apologizing to his dear sister, whom he abandoned to suffer in silence.
Fin~
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November The Cherry Tree Institute of Edinburgh
The ghosts in the library never speak. Perhaps the pounding rainfall trickling down the windows was too heavy for their souls to bear. So, they kept silent. Youthful secrets and dreams spanning centuries have been etched into the dust bunnies of the tomes and crannies, with echoes of the ghosts becoming one with the dust and the scent of cedarwood. They haunted the students, comforted them, lent them a shoulder to cry on, and protected their secrets and insecurities until time immemorial. Hopeless romantics, poets, aspiring physicists, and dreamers… they found sanctuary amidst the pain and stress of what’s to come in this sacred cocoon of knowledge. Even the pounding rainfall felt like a dear friend to them.
Two aspiring souls frequented the library that year – the snow-kissed twin prodigies Magnus and Camilla Laurent, who frantically scrutinized their textbooks and poems together near the ancient arch entrance of the library, right by the tea kettles, ladders, and candle lights. These two not only possessed elegant platinum-white locks and harsh, amethyst eyes, but also stood towering amongst their fellow adult students despite being just shy of 12. Silent and reserved, they commanded resentment and envy, not unlike most scholars at The Cherry Tree Institute, except their youth was a feat to be respected of above all others. The twins knew their strengths, and though they weren’t the best with words, anyone who reviewed their thesis essays, short narratives, and poems would feel a pang of inspiration at the sight of their eloquence. Such as the tale goes.
Young Camilla -- bless her soul -- quite enjoyed the attention and gossip she drew from students and astonished professors, and though she had no use for the popularity, seeing as she had no friends, the validation motivated her to overwork herself until the dead of night just one more time. Magnus, the smirking one with the oval frames and the deep voice, always sauntered just behind his older sister through the university, his expression foggy, yet his gemstone eyes piercing and poised. This boy’s arrogance sat juxtaposed his sensible mind and attentiveness.
And so, the erudite lifted his quill, positioned it between his pinky and middle finger as he always does, sipped his chamomile, scarfed down his cookie, scribbled the finishing touches on his argumentative essay, and rests his leather loafers on the wooden seat beside him. His fingers naturally glide towards his temples and silver brows.
“Hypertension again?’’, Camilla mentions, ‘’Think I may have some ibuprofen in my purse. I asked the canteen ladies if there was a lot of sodium in the rice and fries and there was. Now I think I may get a headache soon.” Her half-opened eyes drifted towards her notebooks and coffee-stained papers, and she breathed a sigh for the first time all night. Excess sodium and sugar hindered the twins’ studying capabilities, but with most of the food being served consisting of bland fruits and vegetables, it’s no wonder why the students turn to junk food for comfort. They cursed their headaches each day.
Camilla, with a slight twitch in her eye, glanced at the quill and papers on her brother’s desk and raised her voice. ‘’You’re finished already? Seriously?’’ Magnus lifts open his eyelids in confusion. ‘’Yes? Lower your voice.’’, he says tiredly.
Camilla softly scoffs, shakes her head, and continues flipping through the atlas beside her. ‘’Beautiful.’’ Her pile of open tomes was several times bigger than on her brother’s side.
This piques his attention. He softly closes his open books and readjusts his frames before speaking. ‘’I know you know, Camilla. What Professor Evangeline said to me today. You could have stayed in the room with me, but you didn’t, you just hid yourself in the corner.’’
‘’Yes, I know.’’, she utters, avoiding eye contact. To which statement she was responding to was unclear. Her eyes almost seem to glisten for a split-second. ‘’Magnus never stops, does he?’, she thought. ‘’Sucking up to the professors just to make me jealous. It’s as if he’s a different person entirely when speaking to them. God… this happens all the time.’’ Camilla softly clutches the back of her head as she sips her chamomile and reads, the bags under her eyes growing ever more prevalent. She didn’t feel beautiful or smart while studying tonight, for some reason. This wasn’t like her. The rain and the joyful pianists practicing a soft rendition of Mariage d’Amour across the burgundy-colored walls and chandeliers of the library ticked her off. More than it should have, at least.
Magnus, seemingly wanting to leave the discussion at that, nodded slowly while swallowing the ibuprofen with the remaining chamomile. His turtleneck was left stained with droplets of tea. This boy can read Camilla’s mind they way she can read the entire row of bookshelves in just a week.
‘’I’m going. I guess you’re not coming with?’’ The sarcasm in his voice was feint but clearly noticeable. When Camilla failed to answer, he softly said ‘’There’s a good reason why you got into this school, and it’s because of what you’re doing right now. You should be more than thankful. Just wanted to let you know.’’
‘’Do you think you’re better than me?’’, she quickly spatted. ‘’…’’
Magnus never once had to work as hard as her to succeed. Not once. But Camilla knew she had no right to complain about her brother when she had been gifted this opportunity to study in the place her beloved historians, authors, and scientists did decades ago, and at such a young age as well. But she had a crystal-clear vision for herself in life, one even clearer than her brother. One of riches, success, envy, admiration, and peace. The twins knew suffering and poverty like it was a dear friend before arriving at this cathedral of wonder, filled with adults who thought and pursued the exact same goals.
‘’Yes…’’, he finally answered with a smirk and a scoff, ‘’Yes, everyone knows that I’m better than you.’’
Magnus stood up and looked down at her with pity and annoyance, his headache still present. Though she was a few inches taller than him, she couldn’t help but cower against his intellectual prowess. His eyes were still piercing purple. Camilla had been known to pass out due to exhaustion on several occasions, but Magnus had never insisted on her resting, not when she’s such a stubborn person. After all, it wasn’t any of his concern what his sister decided to do in her life. He did what he could, and she wouldn’t listen, so why bother? Magnus understood her feelings, but why is she this panicked about this when she’s more gifted than almost every other person here? He huffed an angry sigh collected his belongings, unclear of the expression Camilla was making behind him.
In a bizarrely calm voice, Camilla asked ‘’If I asked you to quit this school for me, would you do it?’’
‘’Of course, I would. If I had enough credits to graduate, that is. I’d choose my career over you any day of my life, Camilla. Sorry.’’
‘’Hm. I had a feeling but, you know, it sucks to hear you say that. Thank you. You’ll be done with this school in a few months anyway. Maybe you should find someplace else to do your homework, since you clearly don’t need shit here.’’
‘’I’ll do that then. We’ll meet in the canteen tomorrow.?
‘’No, I just… leave me alone for a few weeks alright? Our exams are right around the corner. You distract me.’’
‘’…’’ Magnus slowly nods, strolling towards the arch entrance and passing by the studious adults who give him respectful nods. He quickly steps out into the enchanted blue night without his umbrella, suffering from the most extreme headache of his life. Camilla Laurent, with her forehead pounding, – bless her soul – expressionlessly shed a single tear as she gathered more of her missing assignments, textbooks, and coffee, ready to spend one more night suffering in silence… in the haunted library surrounded by ghosts.
The ghosts of the library would hold onto this secret exchange until the end of time itself. For their tragedy will never be known, but their regret will forever be felt.
Epilogue And that was that. Those few weeks turned into a month, that month turned into several, until Magnus Laurent, the youngest student to have ever enrolled at The Cherry Tree Institute of Edinburgh at age 12, was crowned with his bachelor’s degree in Greek literature. Magnus was revered by his peers and professors with the respect he deserved, and he embraced this attention, just like his sister once did long ago. He never did approach his twin, nor did Camilla approach him. They lost contact with one another, and whether Camilla achieved her dream of becoming who she wanted to represent in life or not, Magnus wished nothing but the best for her.
Magnus Laurent would eventually spend his life honored as one of the most captivating authors and poets of his time, winning numerous accolades and inspiring future generations – including those who studied where he once did – to achieve the life he has. His only regret in life up until the end was not apologizing to his dear sister, whom he abandoned to suffer in silence.
Fin~
2024.05.08 08:22 S0ng81rd Part 22
I receive message during the most inconvenient times of my day. Since I've been more acquainted with my true self. I've met many others that are exactly as I am.... They were too afraid of themselves, to tell someone, energetic things they notice about others. Most people now will share with me, that I am easy to open up too and they feel vulnerable enough to share private matters. Most of the time, it is about spirituality, death and relationship problems.
Why me?!
I'm not an expert at all. I know the real reasons why, but I still like to entertain myself and ask why did I choose to be placed in that person's path to relate to them. I am there to show empathy because not many have felt that level of pain and it's difficult to find someone that will listen and engage that deeply and inventively.... I'm the one that cares, because when I needed someone to be there for me when I was watching my father die a slow painful death from cancer....
No one cared about me, no one reached out to show me support.
I made it my mission as I've grown older. I'm not going to let anyone, I don't care your age, feel that defeated and abandoned. If there is a mass email of someone at work that has lost a family member or they themselves are dying. I was there to meet with them and offer a hug. I didn't know how else to allow their family member to share energy with them. They told me if I can leave them a message (their message). So I gave them either a gift I placed their energy onto it and I try to bring up God/church/prayespirit/guides/angels..... I like to write long emails.... As you can see! lol
Some have lashed out at me for not being sensitive to their religious beliefs, but I followed my path by listening to my intuition and not ignore it.
So when I am working as a cashier, preschool teacher, chef, server, mortuary assistant, behavioral health technician, music teacher.... I have met many people and helped them in some way at every one of my jobs.
Doesn't matter my profession, it mattered my location, place and time. God doesn't care what I have to do, I had to learn how to allow him to work through me, to follow my purpose and help someone else. He has always made sure the path is cleared and doors of opportunity open for me. Even when I refuse out of resentment and unfaithfulness towards his wishes. I feel a heaviness on my heart and my discernment will place racing thoughts of me completing that task. Until I obey God's plans for me, I no longer have that urge to work towards that first intent to do something about a situation. That is when I know I have followed correctly. I get a feeling of completion and satisfaction. Very positive and uplifting energy that I can thrive off of for a few days in good spirits.
God really made me talk to people. Literally made me do it. I go up and talk about God with my coworkers and the other side.
I have proof of my weirdness!
So, if you ask upperclassman this rumor about me In high school, when I started to notice my gift after my class mates passed away..... I went up to guy in band. He played trumpet, we had to share a kiss at a musical we danced together called "Oliver". I wrote him a 7 page novel about life..... I made him a nice poem and all.... I have no freaking clue why I did it, but I was forced emotionally, I had to do it and I didn't care that he let half the school read my embarrassing letter to him. I didn't have a crush or anything. I just had to tell him, he had a GIFT! It was a spiritual gift of gab. He was a class clown and I felt his depression when we danced a summer together and we never actually kissed, but I secretly fantasied we did. I never had a first kiss back then..... I was 14. The spirit's name, I never told the guy. I never really told him in my letter that I was talking to a spirit..... Well, the name is, Nancy. I don't know him that well, so I never told him. I just wrote a long letter and poem..... Lol...... Just doing God's work..... XD
Now, I notice more often, a loved one's name pop in my head before I hear the person in the room tell me their name. I really had to hold back my urge to want to pray and do my empath superpower.... When God wants me to help someone, I get that weird happy feeling, like someone is lightly touching your head and moving your hair. It feels very calming and push that feeling to them in a ball.
Suz showed me how to do this when I helped at her ghost tours. It was the last thing we offered before she ended her tour. We stand holding hands and exchange energy as she prayed us into a vortex that allowed any trapped spirits to cross over.
I'm learning now that this is actually a thing people pay for..... It's energy work.
I do it for free....
I've been doing this as a kid hanging out in cemeteries. The spirits led me to them, to help them move on. Took me a long time to understand all of these emotions and when I didn't want to believe I am a psychic medium. I was so terrified that I had to have a mental illness or suffered something bad..... I had no idea and every doctor I went to found nothing concerning.I continue to be this way and I've accepted my calling. I've stopped pushing away the messages when I am placed to help another person communicate with someone or feel heard for their pain and convictions.
I didn't ask for this, but again, Suz reminds me that,
"YES YOU DID!"
Ugh..... So, thinking about how to help people...... It gets very tricky.
That saying is true,
"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink."
You can have all the answers given to you, but without proper guidance, you can't just learn something overnight as easy as others. Especially the significance of the situation/lesson. Not everything is going to be handed to you on an "easy" play level. Some will be challenging, and others can be enjoyable and engaging. But the only thing is.... You must put in the energy and do the work in order to experience those emotions. You work on yourself, by paying attention to your emotions as you are doing something. Starting off, it's difficult to know what you are feeling for.....
Emotions for me were very numb and shut off. I had to work very hard on this step. Where did I get this step to begin with?! Divine guidance, spirit guide, guardian angel.... I really think it's my Dad mostly.Dad knew how much I started to hate church, so he brought it up most of the time with scriptures and adding his two cents about psychology. Why do I care again?Well, I did the work and this is how I did it...... They helped me during this process. They did most of the work getting my attention and I studied really random stuff, but it all glued together over the years.My random jobs that God leads me too are another thing....
I had to give up my dream to be something I "wanted" out of ego. Because every time I got into a position I considered in the direction towards my dream job, something went wrong and I had to start over from the drawing board. I went towards career paths that involve working with a lot of people, hospitality, customer service. It wasn't school like I thought it was going to be
When I don't want to do something and I mock it.....
That was when God made sure I went into the jobs I talked the most smack about.
He humbled me very quickly.
He told me it wasn't even about the job, it was the opportunity to meet more people. So, I went along with it. Especially during the pandemic. I had to be very creative with my time because of the lock down. I didn't want stimulus checks, I went back to work as soon as I found a job doing anything. Before I went into work, I took the time to sit in silence and give myself a pep-talk. (I started this habit in high school)
Sometimes I prayed, but it was casual, I talk towards a person or bow my head. Other times, I used vibrational music and zoned out for a few minutes and head inside.I think of the things I want to accomplish. I wasn't a people person and mornings are still a struggle to be bubbly and fake. I tell myself to work on how to be more positive. Not engage in oversharing, giving negative opinions, gossip, and work on being a better person.
I thought of being a person I wished everyone would be, if we were without hate/fealoneliness/guilt/shame/envy/etc.... Negative emotions creates a mask of a persona we think will allow us to fit in with that social crowd. With enough time, the effort to try becomes second nature and you adapted yourself into being something you're not. When you notice how you don't feel certain about yourself and how comfortable you are being "yourself". You judge others and become critical. Masking flaws in fear of rejection.
It gets confusing, but you see where I'm going with this?!
You try so hard to be so many things, you confuse yourself into not knowing who you are anymore. After so many years of adapting and learning from being around other people....You must make a conscious decision to walk away from toxic relationships and create boundaries. Shouldn't matter the person and your connection. You need to know your self worth and by doing that, you are already treating yourself better and showing self love.
Start doing things for yourself you wished that others would do for you. Why wait?Do it for yourself.I wrote a list of hobbies, places to visit, stores to explore, towns to travel too, trails to walk, movie to see, books to read, etc.... Then I would work on 1 of those items when I had the energy to mentally allow myself to try something out of my normal routine.I made those things, goals, rewards and positive reinforcement.I worked hard on my character at work, controlling my temper, calming down my behavior, learning about my body and getting checked medically. I made sure I worked on my outer appearance, as well as my center.I had to find ways to cleanse my mind from negativity, bad habits. I had to treat my body as I would a temple and be kind to it.
Not falling into my popular habits of,
Over eating, binge drinking, being hyper sexual, dwelling on past faults, self-sabotaging all opportunities....What do lonely people do in a crappy relationship they feel stuck in, but don't find a way out?!
I became everything I said I was never going to end up. I became that prediction, I made for myself and I allowed my poor habits to take me to that destination.On my sad days, laying in my dark room, curled in my bed sheets with my fur babies and lots of alcohol and junk food..... I worked on myself very slowly and it starts off gentle with what content I stopped looking at, such as snuff videos, killings, murders, crime scene investigation, horror and I just got tired of it after 2 decades. I wanted something better for myself and realized I should watch something the opposite of my past bad habits.
I started watching martial arts movies again. I would look further into the videography and watch the behind the scenes and interviews. I listen to their outlook on philosophy and the world itself. It started to reignite my perspective about life and how to fight battles from within. By using your body and understanding different forces of energy.
So, small steps towards your goals brings you out of patterns of destruction and defeat. Each step you take is one step away from the past and where you came from.
Don't allow it to dictate where you are going.
You can change that path and re-create yourself into a brighter version of who you really are and live in that state of being. Where you are content and happy with where you are in your life with no regrets or looking back into the past for any unresolved conflicts. When you can release those strong holds, that is a step in the right direction.
They have stopped talking now. I'm getting tired and I lost contact. It felt like I was getting somewhere good, but lol.... I worked way to late today. I promise more later....
I notice many people around me that are struggling and not happy for this weekend and I understand why. Many of us are missing our favorite person/people now and it's difficult to enjoy life without them. Some near me may lose their mother as we speak. And we have kept talking as this is happening. Maybe why it's sparking me to bring it up as a topic of interest tonight.
I Don't want you to forget this truth and that "they" are always there with you.
I'll be here to reassure you and help you understand the other side a little more through my stories and lessons they share with me.
I just get tired..... I wish I could write all day sometimes.
Goodnight,
Tina,
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Why me?!
I'm not an expert at all. I know the real reasons why, but I still like to entertain myself and ask why did I choose to be placed in that person's path to relate to them. I am there to show empathy because not many have felt that level of pain and it's difficult to find someone that will listen and engage that deeply and inventively.... I'm the one that cares, because when I needed someone to be there for me when I was watching my father die a slow painful death from cancer....
No one cared about me, no one reached out to show me support.
I made it my mission as I've grown older. I'm not going to let anyone, I don't care your age, feel that defeated and abandoned. If there is a mass email of someone at work that has lost a family member or they themselves are dying. I was there to meet with them and offer a hug. I didn't know how else to allow their family member to share energy with them. They told me if I can leave them a message (their message). So I gave them either a gift I placed their energy onto it and I try to bring up God/church/prayespirit/guides/angels..... I like to write long emails.... As you can see! lol
Some have lashed out at me for not being sensitive to their religious beliefs, but I followed my path by listening to my intuition and not ignore it.
So when I am working as a cashier, preschool teacher, chef, server, mortuary assistant, behavioral health technician, music teacher.... I have met many people and helped them in some way at every one of my jobs.
Doesn't matter my profession, it mattered my location, place and time. God doesn't care what I have to do, I had to learn how to allow him to work through me, to follow my purpose and help someone else. He has always made sure the path is cleared and doors of opportunity open for me. Even when I refuse out of resentment and unfaithfulness towards his wishes. I feel a heaviness on my heart and my discernment will place racing thoughts of me completing that task. Until I obey God's plans for me, I no longer have that urge to work towards that first intent to do something about a situation. That is when I know I have followed correctly. I get a feeling of completion and satisfaction. Very positive and uplifting energy that I can thrive off of for a few days in good spirits.
God really made me talk to people. Literally made me do it. I go up and talk about God with my coworkers and the other side.
I have proof of my weirdness!
So, if you ask upperclassman this rumor about me In high school, when I started to notice my gift after my class mates passed away..... I went up to guy in band. He played trumpet, we had to share a kiss at a musical we danced together called "Oliver". I wrote him a 7 page novel about life..... I made him a nice poem and all.... I have no freaking clue why I did it, but I was forced emotionally, I had to do it and I didn't care that he let half the school read my embarrassing letter to him. I didn't have a crush or anything. I just had to tell him, he had a GIFT! It was a spiritual gift of gab. He was a class clown and I felt his depression when we danced a summer together and we never actually kissed, but I secretly fantasied we did. I never had a first kiss back then..... I was 14. The spirit's name, I never told the guy. I never really told him in my letter that I was talking to a spirit..... Well, the name is, Nancy. I don't know him that well, so I never told him. I just wrote a long letter and poem..... Lol...... Just doing God's work..... XD
Now, I notice more often, a loved one's name pop in my head before I hear the person in the room tell me their name. I really had to hold back my urge to want to pray and do my empath superpower.... When God wants me to help someone, I get that weird happy feeling, like someone is lightly touching your head and moving your hair. It feels very calming and push that feeling to them in a ball.
Suz showed me how to do this when I helped at her ghost tours. It was the last thing we offered before she ended her tour. We stand holding hands and exchange energy as she prayed us into a vortex that allowed any trapped spirits to cross over.
I'm learning now that this is actually a thing people pay for..... It's energy work.
I do it for free....
I've been doing this as a kid hanging out in cemeteries. The spirits led me to them, to help them move on. Took me a long time to understand all of these emotions and when I didn't want to believe I am a psychic medium. I was so terrified that I had to have a mental illness or suffered something bad..... I had no idea and every doctor I went to found nothing concerning.I continue to be this way and I've accepted my calling. I've stopped pushing away the messages when I am placed to help another person communicate with someone or feel heard for their pain and convictions.
I didn't ask for this, but again, Suz reminds me that,
"YES YOU DID!"
Ugh..... So, thinking about how to help people...... It gets very tricky.
That saying is true,
"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink."
You can have all the answers given to you, but without proper guidance, you can't just learn something overnight as easy as others. Especially the significance of the situation/lesson. Not everything is going to be handed to you on an "easy" play level. Some will be challenging, and others can be enjoyable and engaging. But the only thing is.... You must put in the energy and do the work in order to experience those emotions. You work on yourself, by paying attention to your emotions as you are doing something. Starting off, it's difficult to know what you are feeling for.....
Emotions for me were very numb and shut off. I had to work very hard on this step. Where did I get this step to begin with?! Divine guidance, spirit guide, guardian angel.... I really think it's my Dad mostly.Dad knew how much I started to hate church, so he brought it up most of the time with scriptures and adding his two cents about psychology. Why do I care again?Well, I did the work and this is how I did it...... They helped me during this process. They did most of the work getting my attention and I studied really random stuff, but it all glued together over the years.My random jobs that God leads me too are another thing....
I had to give up my dream to be something I "wanted" out of ego. Because every time I got into a position I considered in the direction towards my dream job, something went wrong and I had to start over from the drawing board. I went towards career paths that involve working with a lot of people, hospitality, customer service. It wasn't school like I thought it was going to be
When I don't want to do something and I mock it.....
That was when God made sure I went into the jobs I talked the most smack about.
He humbled me very quickly.
He told me it wasn't even about the job, it was the opportunity to meet more people. So, I went along with it. Especially during the pandemic. I had to be very creative with my time because of the lock down. I didn't want stimulus checks, I went back to work as soon as I found a job doing anything. Before I went into work, I took the time to sit in silence and give myself a pep-talk. (I started this habit in high school)
Sometimes I prayed, but it was casual, I talk towards a person or bow my head. Other times, I used vibrational music and zoned out for a few minutes and head inside.I think of the things I want to accomplish. I wasn't a people person and mornings are still a struggle to be bubbly and fake. I tell myself to work on how to be more positive. Not engage in oversharing, giving negative opinions, gossip, and work on being a better person.
I thought of being a person I wished everyone would be, if we were without hate/fealoneliness/guilt/shame/envy/etc.... Negative emotions creates a mask of a persona we think will allow us to fit in with that social crowd. With enough time, the effort to try becomes second nature and you adapted yourself into being something you're not. When you notice how you don't feel certain about yourself and how comfortable you are being "yourself". You judge others and become critical. Masking flaws in fear of rejection.
It gets confusing, but you see where I'm going with this?!
You try so hard to be so many things, you confuse yourself into not knowing who you are anymore. After so many years of adapting and learning from being around other people....You must make a conscious decision to walk away from toxic relationships and create boundaries. Shouldn't matter the person and your connection. You need to know your self worth and by doing that, you are already treating yourself better and showing self love.
Start doing things for yourself you wished that others would do for you. Why wait?Do it for yourself.I wrote a list of hobbies, places to visit, stores to explore, towns to travel too, trails to walk, movie to see, books to read, etc.... Then I would work on 1 of those items when I had the energy to mentally allow myself to try something out of my normal routine.I made those things, goals, rewards and positive reinforcement.I worked hard on my character at work, controlling my temper, calming down my behavior, learning about my body and getting checked medically. I made sure I worked on my outer appearance, as well as my center.I had to find ways to cleanse my mind from negativity, bad habits. I had to treat my body as I would a temple and be kind to it.
Not falling into my popular habits of,
Over eating, binge drinking, being hyper sexual, dwelling on past faults, self-sabotaging all opportunities....What do lonely people do in a crappy relationship they feel stuck in, but don't find a way out?!
I became everything I said I was never going to end up. I became that prediction, I made for myself and I allowed my poor habits to take me to that destination.On my sad days, laying in my dark room, curled in my bed sheets with my fur babies and lots of alcohol and junk food..... I worked on myself very slowly and it starts off gentle with what content I stopped looking at, such as snuff videos, killings, murders, crime scene investigation, horror and I just got tired of it after 2 decades. I wanted something better for myself and realized I should watch something the opposite of my past bad habits.
I started watching martial arts movies again. I would look further into the videography and watch the behind the scenes and interviews. I listen to their outlook on philosophy and the world itself. It started to reignite my perspective about life and how to fight battles from within. By using your body and understanding different forces of energy.
So, small steps towards your goals brings you out of patterns of destruction and defeat. Each step you take is one step away from the past and where you came from.
Don't allow it to dictate where you are going.
You can change that path and re-create yourself into a brighter version of who you really are and live in that state of being. Where you are content and happy with where you are in your life with no regrets or looking back into the past for any unresolved conflicts. When you can release those strong holds, that is a step in the right direction.
They have stopped talking now. I'm getting tired and I lost contact. It felt like I was getting somewhere good, but lol.... I worked way to late today. I promise more later....
I notice many people around me that are struggling and not happy for this weekend and I understand why. Many of us are missing our favorite person/people now and it's difficult to enjoy life without them. Some near me may lose their mother as we speak. And we have kept talking as this is happening. Maybe why it's sparking me to bring it up as a topic of interest tonight.
I Don't want you to forget this truth and that "they" are always there with you.
I'll be here to reassure you and help you understand the other side a little more through my stories and lessons they share with me.
I just get tired..... I wish I could write all day sometimes.
Goodnight,
Tina,
2024.05.08 07:17 Pinacolada1989 Solidarity in jealousy/acceptance
For an attempt at some healing, I wanted to share my story with ya'll since you are the only ones who really get it, and share this inspiring poem, that resonated with me, too.
My first kiddo’s delivery in '21 was very traumatic for me. She wasn't in NICU, but because I was physically pummeled and in shock, It took me a long time to bond with her. I don't remember much, and still feel some guilt about the resentment I had.
Fast forward to Kiddo #2 who was born this April at 37 +0. Although the pregnancy was super rough, I was hopeful I I could do their birth 'right', be present, and enjoy those first cuddles, especially as this would for sure be my last baby ( I would be having my tubes tied in surgery.) Of course, the Universe had other plans. It’s been 3 long weeks so far in the NICU. Those first anticipated cuddles were me being a nervous wreck..thinking I’d unplug or fuck up all his tubes. I was relieved to put him down so his sP02 would go back up.
So, I'm coming to terms with never having that "normal", healthy, cinematic and sweet delivery we see our friends and strangers on social media have. It's just gonna forever be my story. A story I wouldn't have written but it is what it is.
I saw this haiku and It resonated so much:
“My barn having burned down, I can see the moon.”- Mizuta Masahide
There still can be beautiful things in a shitty situation. Different things. The amazing nurses and doctors, the other mom I shed a tear with from across the room, Future NICU parents I can support and be in solidarity with.
Sending my love to all you other NICU parents 💜
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My first kiddo’s delivery in '21 was very traumatic for me. She wasn't in NICU, but because I was physically pummeled and in shock, It took me a long time to bond with her. I don't remember much, and still feel some guilt about the resentment I had.
Fast forward to Kiddo #2 who was born this April at 37 +0. Although the pregnancy was super rough, I was hopeful I I could do their birth 'right', be present, and enjoy those first cuddles, especially as this would for sure be my last baby ( I would be having my tubes tied in surgery.) Of course, the Universe had other plans. It’s been 3 long weeks so far in the NICU. Those first anticipated cuddles were me being a nervous wreck..thinking I’d unplug or fuck up all his tubes. I was relieved to put him down so his sP02 would go back up.
So, I'm coming to terms with never having that "normal", healthy, cinematic and sweet delivery we see our friends and strangers on social media have. It's just gonna forever be my story. A story I wouldn't have written but it is what it is.
I saw this haiku and It resonated so much:
“My barn having burned down, I can see the moon.”- Mizuta Masahide
There still can be beautiful things in a shitty situation. Different things. The amazing nurses and doctors, the other mom I shed a tear with from across the room, Future NICU parents I can support and be in solidarity with.
Sending my love to all you other NICU parents 💜
2024.05.08 06:06 ObviouslySteve Loss of Life as a Neverending Story of Life, Love, and Maturity: An Analysis
What’s up guys. So like a lot of y’all I’ve had Loss of Life on repeat since it came out. One thing is for sure: it’s an album about maturing and adulthood. But every time I listen I hear more and more evidence that the album has a cohesive narrative, telling the story of a life and representing an endless cycle of birth and rebirth. So I’ve just been jotting down notes, it’s kind of a lot so feel free to skip around.
The basic idea is each song represents one stage/significant event in the protagonist’s life, starting with birth (Mother Nature) and ending with death (Loss of Life). We’ll get to Loss of Life Pt. 2 later.
Even if it’s a little abstract, I think there’s a clear linear narrative carried over between songs anchored by a shifting attitude towards the world. The album starts with youthful optimism, transitions to the pessimism of young adulthood, then ends with the gained wisdom of true maturity.
Let me break down each song, what they represent, and my reasoning:
So yeah I’d love to know what you guys think. Are you picking up the same vibe I am or do you think I’m totally off base?
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The basic idea is each song represents one stage/significant event in the protagonist’s life, starting with birth (Mother Nature) and ending with death (Loss of Life). We’ll get to Loss of Life Pt. 2 later.
Even if it’s a little abstract, I think there’s a clear linear narrative carried over between songs anchored by a shifting attitude towards the world. The album starts with youthful optimism, transitions to the pessimism of young adulthood, then ends with the gained wisdom of true maturity.
Let me break down each song, what they represent, and my reasoning:
- Mother Nature - Birth/Childhood
- Obvious points: the first person you see when you’re born is, of course, your mother and birth is probably the most “natural” part of life, only tied with death
- There’s a suburbia motif running throughout
- “I put the groceries down on the front lawn/And think maybe the children just want recognition”
- “Come take a walk with me down billionaire's row”
- Fairytale/dream motif
- “To open castle gates and let me go inside” etc
- Fairytales evoke the vibe of a bedtime story while also representing the idea that being a child is sort of like being in a dream. And dreams have to end, that’s a recurring theme of the album: “Before the fantasy is cast into the fire”
- The music video with the animated characters is reminiscent of saturday morning cartoons
- Dancing in Babylon - Teenage Years/Young Love
- This might be subjective, but the 80s powerpop vibes give it a sort of youthful energy
- Less subjective: it is at the very least definitely about love
- It’s also about vice, as Babylon symbolizes evil in Christianity
- Overall it evokes a vibe of youthful rebellion, being young and in love
- People in the Streets - Young Adult/Growing Self-Aware
- This song is about self-reflection and discovering your place in the world. In the last song, the “real heads” were “out on the street… trying to keep it low,” and there wasn’t much regard given to them. Now, our narrator is reflecting on his relation to those people
- “when you're living the dream/And your ears are bad/The people in the streets aren't part of the fun”
- He’s “starting to doubt where [he] once stood”
- Whether the people in the streets are struggling financially (“going over receipts with a magnifier”) or they’re protestors fighting for a better world (the chants at the end), our narrator feels he’s separate from them
- Overall this song has a lot of anxiety about the current state of the world: “someone complained that the fire was out/So they shut off the rain and let the flames return”
- He’s not even sure if he can trust his own intuitions: “The inside's still glowing/Telling the heart what it wants to heaBut what if it's only lies/Twisted apart by fear?”
- This song is about self-reflection and discovering your place in the world. In the last song, the “real heads” were “out on the street… trying to keep it low,” and there wasn’t much regard given to them. Now, our narrator is reflecting on his relation to those people
- Bubblegum Dog - Adulthood/Anxiety
- I’ve always thought this song was about anxiety. The “bubblegum dog” sounds like a fantasy creature, much like how a lot of anxieties are just made up in your head. But running from them makes them very real.
- Reminiscent of the fairytale theme from Mother Nature, indicating even if he’s older he still hasn’t fully matured/ woken up from the dream
- His unrest carries over from People in the Streets, specifically his anxiety about the state of the world
- “I saw tenement homes built upon a fault line”
- He hates this earthly world, he hates this bubblegum world
- In the end he gives into his anxiety: he’ll “hide until it’s gone”
- He’s embracing the bubblegum dog lifestyle: he’ll “tinkle on the lawn”
- I’ve always thought this song was about anxiety. The “bubblegum dog” sounds like a fantasy creature, much like how a lot of anxieties are just made up in your head. But running from them makes them very real.
- Nothing to Declare - Depression/Divorce?
- He’s depressed, man. He’s got nothing to declare, nothing to say about the world anymore, he’s given up. He’s let himself be consumed by his anxiety and he’s still living in a dream rather then in reality
- The world is his “Spanish castle in the sky,” a French phrase for something impossible or unachievable
- A dream might seem like a good vibe, but even though he sees the world as his “Fine de Claire” (oyster), he “can tell the pearl’s there/and still there’s nothing [he] can find”
- “Until I wake up like a baby in the womb”
- Reincarnation, another recurring theme
- I include the possibility of this song being about divorce or breaking up with a lover because there’s a lot of lyrical evidence for it. It doesn’t fit as neatly in the narrative since he’s gonna have a kid in two songs, but he could remarry. Perhaps he’s still dating/married the girl from Dancing in Babylon? But overall I also think it shows how this character is disconnected from the world and it’s causing him to lose people around him
- Think about it: he’s a drunkard who stumbles home to a person with bags under their eyes. He’s got nothing to say to them. They’ve got documents and something to decide. If they let him go, he’ll fall far and wonder who they’ve become.
- He’s depressed, man. He’s got nothing to declare, nothing to say about the world anymore, he’s given up. He’s let himself be consumed by his anxiety and he’s still living in a dream rather then in reality
- Nothing Changes - Breaking Free/Maturity
- This song starts low but ends high, musically and lyrically. The title has a bit of a double meaning: the idea that nothing changes can sound both depressing and hopeful.
- At first he still sounds depressed: he “wishes all the stars could save” him.
- But the final lines are triumphant: thrust the dagger into the night and throw aside your Sisypheun boulder! Living may just be flailing but it’s a valiant struggle!
- He’s broken free of the dream of childhood and the illusions of his adult anxieties and has learned to take life as it is. Nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
- Reincarnation theme: nothing changes, and the gods know it
- This song starts low but ends high, musically and lyrically. The title has a bit of a double meaning: the idea that nothing changes can sound both depressing and hopeful.
- Phradie’s Song - Parenthood
- Andrew’s Daughter is named Phradie and he said in an interview it is a song for her
- Lullaby vibes
- “Did I dream before?/It felt like I couldn’t love anymore”
- There’s that recurring motif of dreams/dreams ending
- The dream of youth is over, and in this dream he deluded himself that he could never love again, but now having a kid has completely changed that perspective
- “And I will sing for you/Every night if you want me to”
- He’s found contentment in singing to his child every night
- I Wish I Was Joking - Getting Old
- Paying six dollars for a coffee, municipal parking, and taking the kids to Disney on Ice: all the “joys” of getting old
- Reflecting on youth
- “Here’s the thing about drugs…” perhaps remembering his days of vice dancing in Babylon
- Now he’s “kinda into being home”
- “Nobody calls me the gangster of love”
- Referencing the classic Steve Miller song to get at the idea he isn’t as hip as he once was
- Loss of Life - Death?
- Nothing prepares you for loss of life, simple as.
- BUT: “it’s neither created or destroyed.” Now that he's accepted nothing changes, he's at peace with dying. He knows the end of one life is just the start of another. It hits both the reincarnation theme and the maturity theme
- It parallels how when the dream of his youth ended, the life of his child started. I saw someone say they interpreted this song as losing the life you had before you had a child, which you might call a ‘good’ loss of life. I think that's a totally valid reading, and if you read it that way you could interpret LoL pt 2 and the rest of the album as representing the life of the narrator's child. Still an endless cycle of birth and rebirth.
- Loss of Life (pt 2) - Reincarnation/Womb/Baby?
- Lot of ways you could interpret this one, which is why I left it for the end. You could do a whole deep dive on the poem, but a surface level read is just the existential poem with the ambient, spacey music makes it sound like you’re one with the cosmos, waiting to be reborn.
- I also think the recurring melody sounds like something you’d hear from a child’s mobile. So there’s this sort of baby vibe with distant adult voices speaking in poems you can’t understand, or if you want to go really crazy, it’s a sort of in-the-womb ambience. Is that going too crazy?
- All-in-all I just think going from this to Mother Nature gives an “entering into the world” type of vibe
So yeah I’d love to know what you guys think. Are you picking up the same vibe I am or do you think I’m totally off base?
2024.05.08 03:32 Ok_District4689 Mortal Man
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let these words be your earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan (one two, one two) When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let these words be your earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Do you believe in me? Are you deceiving me? Could I let you down easily, is your heart where it need to be? Is your smile on permanent? Is your vow on lifetime? Would you know where the sermon is if I died in this next line? If I'm tried in a court of law, if the industry cut me off If the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my car Would you judge me a drug-head or see me as K. Lamar Or question my character and degrade me on every blog Want you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like Nelson I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you're very welcome You tell me my song is more than a song, it's surely a blessing But a prophet ain't a prophet til they ask you this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let my words be your earth and moon you consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And with that Do you believe in me? How much you believe in her? You think she gon' stick around if them 25 years occur? You think he can hold you down when you down behind bars hurt? You think y'all on common ground if you promise to be the first? Can you be immortalised without your life being expired? Even though you share the same blood is it worth the time? Like who got your best interest? Like how much are you dependent? How clutch are the people that say they love you? And who pretending? How tough is your skin when they turn you in? Do you show forgiveness? What brush do you bend when dusting your shoulders from being offended? What kind of den did they put you in when the lions start hissing? What kind of bridge did they burn? Revenge or your mind when it's mentioned? You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like Nelson You wanna walk in his shoes but you peacemaking seldom You wanna be remembered that delivered the message That considered the blessing of everyone This your lesson for everyone, say When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The voice of Mandela, hope this flow stay propellin' Let my word be your Earth and moon You consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me, nigga I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues I hold grudges like bad judges, don't let me resent you That's not Nelson-like, want you to love me like Nelson I went to Robben's Island analysing, that's where his cell is So I could find clarity, like how much you cherish me Is this relationship a fake or real as the heavens be? See I got to question it all, family, friends, fans, cats, dogs Trees, plants, grass, how the wind blow Murphy's Law, generation X, will I ever be your X? Floss off a baby step, mauled by the mouth of Pit bulls, put me under stress Crawled under rocks, ducking y'all, it's respect But then tomorrow, put my back against the wall How many leaders you said you needed then left 'em for dead? Is it Moses, is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red? Is it Martin Luther, JFK, shoot or you assassin Is it Jackie, is it Jesse, oh I know, it's Michael Jackson, oh When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? That nigga gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let my word be your earth and moon you consume every message As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me nigga, let me ask this question nigga "I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power, full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in the hotel room I didn't wanna self destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn't stop survivor's guilt Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned The word was respect Just because you wore a different gang color than mine's Doesn't mean I can't respect you as a black man Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us But I don't know, I'm no mortal man, maybe I'm just another nigga" Shit and that's all I wrote I was gonna call it Another Nigga but, it ain't really a poem, I just felt like it's something you probably could relate to. Other than that, now that I finally got a chance to holla at you, I always wanted to ask you about a certain situa--, about a metaphor actually, you spoke on the ground. What you mean 'bout that, what the ground represent? The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil Right That's how I see it, my word is bond. I see--and the ground is the symbol for the poor people, the poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the rich people. Cause the rich people gonna be so fat, they gonna be so appetising, you know what I'm saying, wealthy, appetising. The poor gonna be so poor and hungry, you know what I'm saying it's gonna be like... there might be some cannibalism out this mutha, they might eat the rich Aight so let me ask you this then, do you see yourself as somebody that's rich or somebody that made the best of their own opportunities? I see myself as a natural born hustler, a true hustler in every sense of the word. I took nothin', I took the opportunities, I worked at the most menial and degrading job and built myself up so I could get it to where I owned it. I went from having somebody manage me to me hiring the person that works my management company. I changed everything I realized my destiny in a matter of five years you know what I'm saying I made myself a millionaire. I made millions for a lot of people now it's time to make millions for myself, you know what I'm saying. I made millions for the record companies, I made millions for these movie companies, now I make millions for us And through your different avenues of success, how would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity? and by my faith in "all good things come to those that stay true. " You know what I'm saying, and it was happening to me for a reason, you know what I'm saying, I was noticing, shit, I was punching the right buttons and it was happening. So it's no problem, you know I mean it's a problem but I'm not finna let them know. I'm finna go straight through Would you consider yourself a fighter at heart or somebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall? Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity I've ever been threatened with resistance, it's been met with resistance. And not only me but it goes down my family tree. You know what I'm saying, it's in my veins to fight back Aight well, how long you think it take before niggas be like, we fighting a war, I'm fighting a war I can't win and I wanna lay it all down In this country a black man only have like 5 years we can exhibit maximum strength, and that's right now while you a teenager, while you still strong or while you still wanna lift weights, while you still wanna shoot back. Cause once you turn 30 it's like they take the heart and soul out of a man, out of a black man in this country. And you don't wanna fight no more. And if you don't believe me you can look around, you don't see no loud mouth 30-year old muthafuckas That's crazy, because me being one of your offspring of the legacy you left behind I can truly tell you that there's nothing but turmoil goin' on so I wanted to ask you what you think is the future for me and my generation today? I think that niggas is tired of grabbin' shit out the stores and next time it's a riot there's gonna be, like, uh, bloodshed for real. I don't think America know that. I think American think we was just playing and it's gonna be some more playing but it ain't gonna be no playing. It's gonna be murder, you know what I'm saying, it's gonna be like Nat Turner, 1831, up in this muthafucka. You know what I'm saying, it's gonna happen That's crazy man. In my opinion, only hope that we kinda have left is music and vibrations, lotta people don't understand how important it is. Sometimes I be like, get behind a mic and I don't know what type of energy I'mma push out, or where it comes from. Trip me out sometimes Because the spirits, we ain't even really rappin', we just letting our dead homies tell stories for us Damn I wanted to read one last thing to you. It's actually something a good friend had wrote describing my world. It says: "The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it, in order to protect itself from this mad city While consuming its environment the caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the butterfly The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar But having a harsh outlook on life the caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak and figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits Already surrounded by this mad city the caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes him He can no longer see past his own thoughts He's trapped When trapped inside these walls certain ideas take roots, such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city The result? Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations that the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different, they are one and the same." What's your perspective on that? Pac? Pac? Pac?!
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2024.05.08 03:14 karenvideoeditor The Zoo [Part 2]
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So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
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submitted by karenvideoeditor to HFY [link] [comments]
So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
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