About a year ago, I [29 M] was in a toxic relationship with J [29 M]. While there were no serious stakes in it (no kids or messy finances), the relationship and breakup ended up emotionally affecting me in a way I had never really thought possible. I feel guilty because after the relationship I tried to be friends with my ex still, which I now see as a mistake in the context of this relationship, and then after a few months, he blocked me because I didn't respect a boundary he had set about not sending him long messages. He said he didn't feel safe since I "completely ignored" the boundary.
I was devastated, but over the course of the next few months, came to understand a great deal of ways that I feel that I had been abused during the relationship. I felt angrier and angrier, and even though I was seeing a therapist, it eventually boiled over. My ex had blocked me on discord and probably on text, but I went onto an astrology app called Co-Star that he had had me download, and sent a message using it that said something like, "You were an abusive partner, but you can make it right with an apology."
Now, I have no idea if he actually saw the message. It was sent with a weird feature of the app called Chaos Mode that apparently chooses to send the message at some future time, so who knows if it actually ever sent. I don't know if he still has the app, if he unfriended me, or whatnot. But I feel guilty because I enacted exactly the caricature of me that he had created--I hadn't respected his boundaries, and I sent the message anyways.
At the same time, I am still feeling very victimized by the relationship. To give you a sense of the kinds of things that were going on in the relationship, here's a few examples that I currently find a little horrific [Note: this kind of turned into a summary of the relationship after I wrote it]. I'm aware that to heal I should probably not be ruminating about these things, especially if they lead me to boil over and message him, but here you go.
The first time I had sex with him, he slammed the door on me for not being able to finish and said "finish yourself." When I came to bed, I told him I felt shame. He said "good." The next time we had sex, he set a timer for me and said I had to finish within 5 minutes. These were the first times I ever had sex. He was manipulative in bed, telling me he didn't want to perform certain acts because I didn't give him enough praise for them, so that I started exaggerating my pleasure; he blamed me for why certain positions weren't working and was frustrated with how my body worked. On top of this, he admitted at the end of the relationship to having had sex with me around five times after he decided to break up with me (before he did), which just makes me feel a bit icky.
He would put me down in pretty transparently cruel ways. One example was when I exerted myself, he said I sounded like a muppet and that he "didn't want to be dating a muppet." When I offered him a blanket but apologized that it might not have been washed in a while, he called me a baby. He would insult my ability to give complements, asking me to tell him what color his eyes are but then rejecting everything that I gave him, telling me I was bad at complements repeatedly (and saying that it wasn't fair of him because his other exes were artists, so no wonder I was bad). Now, there were times that he was complementary to me--he told me I was hot, good at singing, good at writing, smart--but also times where he would put me down for things I was less good at, like cooking.
He constantly made me feel insecure about my gender. (For context, we are both men, but he was raised as a woman). So he would make pretty sweeping feminist critiques over fairly mundane things, like if I complained when I was sick he would go off about how men are always babies when they are sick and women don't get attention. When I confronted him about some of the things he was saying, telling him that while I wanted him to express these kinds of social problems so that I could be aware and adapt, I was feeling insecure in the relationship--he flipped it around and told me that if I didn't feel loved, he could say "I love you" less, and that I hadn't been grateful enough for when he came to visit me. (I had written him poetry, deep cleaned my apartment, taken time off work, sent my roommate off for the week, bought him a bus pass, planned his visit, met him in the airport despite not having a car, and just an insane amount of work to be turned into, "you weren't grateful enough").
Other than namecalling, he was just plain controlling. The reason that the boundary around me not sending long messages exists is that when I felt insecure--which I think makes sense given the ways he would talk to me--I would often send him a few paragraphs apologizing and explaining how I was growing. Even though long messages were the first thing he said he loved about me, and that he said our communication was like magic, he eventually set up what he called an "Essay embargo" and told me not to write them. The first time he set the "embargo", he had said it was only until we met in person because he didn't want me to write anything that would make him nervous. After we met in person, I assumed the embargo had lifted. Yet shortly after, he set it again, giving a few explanations--the main one just being that he wanted to appreciate our relationship without overthinking it. It seemed playful. He definitely did also say that long messages made him uncomfortable because he felt obligated to send a response. So, when I did send messages, I would add that he didn't have to respond (which I realize is not fully respecting the boundary). I did ask after sending messages whether they were ok and he never responded to those questions.
Despite this, there were times during the relationship that I continued to send long, often apologetic messages. I had felt like this boundary was set playfully and I also was feeling overwhelming guilt that I, for whatever reason, needed his affirmation for. I am conflicted because on the one hand, I was definitely ignoring his boundary--but on the other, I feel like the boundary was not very thoughtful of my own needs, either.
Prior to the breakup, it was hell. He was getting angry at me for everything--for pretty mundane things like using the bathroom before him and stinking it up. He told me he had to show me how to do everything, but I realize now that a lot of this was just him being particular (e.g, he told me I don't know how to drink tea because I left the bag in, when I just like it strong). Unfortunately, I had flown 5,000 miles to visit him and was sort of trapped in his proximity, and was drunk on love still since I was trying very hard, it was my first relationship, and he had sold me on notions of fairytale romance and told me we were cosmically meant to be together and other lovebomby sort of things. We flew to a convention and I met some of his friends, and at one point he introduced me to a girl he had almost dated before, saying I was a friend and not a partner. I pointed this out to him later and he just said "does that make you angry?". He flirted with a woman at a party, telling her she was pretty while demanding that i bring him snacks (I feel so, so weak for not confronting him about this). He got drunk and I stayed with him as he passed out, but he was angry at me in the morning. When one of his friends told me they thought I was nice, because i was opening doors for everyone, my ex said "Is he really?" Questioning them.
The breakup itself was cold and calculated. He started it by telling me that he thought about not giving me any reasons for the breakup because I always overanalyze things. He told me he wouldn't have broken up with me if I was a woman. He told me I didn't take care of him and he needs a partner that takes care of him, and that his partners always feel taken care of. He threw some things I had said at the beginning of the relationship back at me--misquoting and misunderstanding them.
After the relationship, I had no idea what to think. It was my first relationship. It had started with fairytale romance. I had been passing his tests, I had been an exception to his long string of abusive relationships. He presented himself as this incredibly moral person (vegan, environmentally conscious, telling me of all of the ways others had abused him that he would never do, even his closest friends). I had completely internalized criticisms that he had had of me throughout the relationship, many of which had led to serious self reflection and my writing messages about my growth. Within a week I told him I still loved him and that I always would. He reminded me of his boundary around long messages and said they made him anxious. I was desperate. We took a few weeks of no-contact. We messaged short-messages back and forth, with a few life-updates to eachother each. He told me he was rescuing a kitten that he found, and I remembered how he could be kind.
But as I processed, more and more, I felt angry. I wrote unsent angry letters in the notes app on my phone for a month. I wrote myself a 20,000 word summary of the relationship. This was not a healthy way to process. It elevated me. (Some of you will probably comment that maybe I shouldn't have written this post for the same reason, but oh well--I wanted to process and I want to hear if others have similar stories). Meanwhile, my ex kept pushing back the date for when we would verbally connect again. Eventually, I boiled over. I did not insult him. But I wrote a long message explaining that I wanted to take 3 months of no-contact. I had entered another relationship and told him that even though I was feeling angry at him, he shouldn't be worried because even though I had baggage from the relationship, I was communicating well with my new partner. I also told him that I felt like if I did talk with him, that I would end up tearing him a new one, and that I needed time to cool down. I'm not proud of the message in general, but I didn't call names, tell him he was awful, or anything like that. I was just insensitive and told him I was angry.
And like that, I was blocked. It was over. A period of about 9 months, five of which we were together, with two before escalating towards love bombing and two after escalating towards my boiling over.
And yet, I had never expressed to him that I thought he had been abusive. I felt frustrated that I had told him that I would always love him, when in many ways now I hated him.
Five months passed, during which I came to realize more and more how messed up the relationship was.
And then I sent the message on Co-star.
Fast forward another four months to now.
I just sent him a text, knowing he probably has blocked me there too. It said something like, "I want my last message to you just be: I'm sorry, and I forgive you." I wanted to free myself. I needed to not feel angry at him or ashamed of myself. I needed to not feel like I had a million things to say to him--I needed to just say, this is it: I'm not sending more messages. I'm sorry, and I forgive you. It was for myself. I was forgiving him selfishly, even though he didn't deserve it, so that I could move on.
I feel like I shouldn't have sent this, but I don't feel bad about it yet, either. I needed closure. It always felt like there was some "message I could send" to detail his abuse, and I needed to not have that standing over me--I needed to forgive. I am now oscillating between wondering about myself--whether I have a problem with boundaries, since I had boiled over at this point three times to message him. Feeling frustrated I didn't assert myself about his abuse, that I doubled down on loving him. Part of me is glad that I sent the message on Co-Star saying that he was abusive, because it was the only indication I ever gave him, really, that what he did wasn't ok to me--he had blocked me before I could articulate anything. But I also know that this message even if received would not mean anything to him.
Anyways, now I'm venting about it here on Reddit. Does anyone have similar experiences surrounding self control messaging exes and feeling a bit out of control?

My son’s account seems to be stuck in some weird state whereby any pokemon he tries to catch runs away, any pokemon at all. We’ve just been out for the abra spotlight hour, he threw a good 60 balls at different abras, each and every one ran away.
Anyone else experienced this before and if so how do you go about fixing it?
For additional context - the in laws are on holiday in Florida (and we live in the UK), his account is logged in on his grandmother’s phone. Could GPS be bugging out thinking that he’s too far away from the pokemon in the uk that he’s trying to catch? Similar to how pokemon always flee when travelling fast as a car passenger?

I have difficulty to drive straight in the middle of the road. I see myself constantly steering a bit and I slightly swing from left to right. I try not to do it but it keeps happening. Any tips?
I also have a little bit of a hard time when there is oncoming traffic on a shared lane. I stay at the appropriate distance from the parked cars and do not touch the middle line, but it often seems like they will hit me. I do not understand yet how much space I need. Might have to do with the fact I am used to biking? 🤔 It always feels like I am way too close to everything on a narrow road.
And lastly, I want to drive at a constant speed, but how? i constantly drive a tiny bit too fast or too slow and it gets frustrating sometimes. How do I activate my inner cruise control?
Does anyone recognize these struggles and knows a trick or two (three) to help me improve my driving skills.

So dig, early morning pulling up at the gas station for gas. As I jump out to pump my gas. The car in front of me car door opens. First a hand emerges from the car dropping blunts guts then out comes the head of a beautiful Spanish chic. She smile my way. I returned the gesture with a head nods, and a what’s up came from my mouth. She responded by asking, do I smoke? I looked down at my watch… yeah I got a few minutes before I gotta be to work. She asked me to follow her. I did, ending up at a park. I hopped in the car with her. She was already smoking. She passed me the blunt. It smelled like that thang, so I know how it was about to taste. Sitting back enjoying a toke. I felt her hand grab for my pants. Without a word. I just let her do her. Man… she was taking me up and through there with that head game. Moments later I bust, feeling my sole leave my body. Wow, I was done. The feel of her shaking me woke me up out of heaven sort-of-speak. Pushing me up out of her car as fast as she can. All the wild informing that she had to get back to her dude… Damn, that head was fire. I know that pussy was the bomb. Guest I’ll never no now… This Bih Here!

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But then you left.

If you’d told me that the visitation with my son, an event that happened only every other weekend, would be extended indefinitely, I would’ve jumped with joy. In the end, I wish the circumstances under which they unfolded had never happened.
The clouds were sightless in the clear sky the day Jasmine dropped off my boy, a perfect day to play a little catch in the yard or go fishing at the nearby stock pond. Cyrus bounced out of the car and ran joyously toward me, unaware that his old man was a perpetual fuck up that had broken up the family in the first place. Oh well.
It was a happy day, the birds sang their old nostalgic tunes of a lost Summer in my own childhood. It was warm, not too warm, and the neighborhood was buzzing with excitement as the Spring showers had come to a close. It was as close as it could get to perfect.
The evening light danced against the tree tops, turning a violet hue as dusk began to settle in. Burnt orange water reflected the dying sun as it continued sinking away to nothing. We grabbed our tackle box, the giant beige one my uncle gifted me before he was stolen by cancer, and filled it with the empty, crumpled up bits of plastic that once held bologna sandwiches. As I said, it was a perfect day, very reminiscent of my own childhood.
We’d thrown the fat bluegill back that we had caught, I hadn’t felt like messing with cleaning and cooking them. Instead, dinner would likely be mac n’ cheese with some cut up hot dogs, a staple in my household whether or not Cyrus was visiting. Hopefully I hadn’t run through Oscar Meyer supply.
Home never felt so lonely, the walls never seemed so barren of old family pictures when Cyrus wasn’t around. Sometimes, he only added to the pain. I would never tell him that, though.
Even with the faucet turned all the way up, the water dribbled out and made boiling pasta a very patient game. Cyrus was babbling about some game he was playing on my phone. ‘He’s just a kid’, I thought, and pretended to be interested in whatever the hell he was talking about.
The sun had vanished and the moon was especially bright that night, having slid nearly halfway to its crescendo before dinner was finally done. Cyrus had stolen my phone to the living room, staring at the bright characters absentmindedly as a nondescript Netflix show played in the background.
“Here, buddy, sorry about the wait”, I sat the bowl of neon yellow stuff in front of him, the pink scramble of hotdog jutting out made me feel… a little ashamed? I plopped down next to him and flipped through the various titles on Netflix, most of which I had already seen a couple of times. Cyrus tossed the phone aside and picked at the mess of ‘food’ in the bowl. I can’t remember if he took a bite or not.
“Dad!”, I jumped, reeling from the doze I had fallen in. If Jasmine was here, it would’ve been such a perfect day, such a perfect day. Instead, this is where it all fell apart.
He massaged furiously at his temples, his knees pulled tight against his heaving chest.
“What’s the matter, are you okay?”, I jumped from the couch and got on one knee, putting my hands around his shoulders. I watched helplessly as Cyrus twisted and contorted his body, trying to run away from whatever pain was in his head.
Suddenly he fell still.
I studied him for a while, nearly on the verge of tears as his body had become totally limp. Then, a noise. At first it was quiet, then it grew and grew until it filled the room with totality. It’s hard to describe that noise, almost like a wind turbine if you were up close to it.
From behind the couch, just above my sons head, it peeked at me. Its thick, black fingers ended at sharp, nailess points. Just as I met its eyes, it slithered behind the couch and that’s when Cyrus awoke in a screaming fit.
I jumped awake again, Cyrus sitting next to me as pale as a sheet. His eyes were bulging, glued to the blank TV ahead.
I couldn’t help but check behind the couch, to make sure it wasn’t still there. Then, to my son who was still staring at the nothing on the television. His mouth was hanging open, just enough to allow the continuous stream of drool to fall out.
I ran to the kitchen to grab a paper towel and cleaned the odd amount of drool from his chin. There wasn’t a thermometer in the house but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that he was burning up. A fever, I thought.
I carried the boy to his bedroom, feeling as though I was being watched the entire way, and tucked him into bed. A doctors visit would soon be on the horizon. I returned to the couch in the living room, careful to keep my gaze fixed on the TV and nothing else. Truthfully, I was too afraid to look in the shadowy corners.
That night was filled with nightmares.
The next day I rang Jasmine, letting her know that Cy was sick and needed to go to the doctor. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Jas was immunocompromised (she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before we divorced) and my son would be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t complain, I didn’t get to see him nearly enough as it was.
That day was very much the opposite of the previous, the sky was gloomy and spits of rain fell consistently from dawn to nightfall.
The doctor had said that Cyrus had a particularly severe ear infection, but nothing that some antibiotics couldn’t fix. He sent us home with a tube of the stuff, my wallet noticeably lighter.
“Apply some of this twice a day, once in the morning and once before bedtime”, the older gentleman had said. He squeezed my shoulder and smiled, though there seemed to be something else behind his wary eyes.
He stopped me again as I turned to leave.
“Sir…”, he started, though he seemed to study his words carefully, “your son kept mentioning something he called the flumes”.
I shrugged, the only time I had heard the word was in reference to a ravine on the edge of town where we’d all smoke pot in high school. Nothing struck me as odd about it at the time.
“They come from the flumes, those noises, those noises, he kept saying”, the doctor pushed closer, his eyes growing wild. I stepped backward, tugging at Cy’s hand as we left the building wordlessly.
Aside from my busy mind, the car ride home was utterly silent. I could hear my boys heavy, labored breaths all the way from the backseat. ‘Inner ear infection, my ass’, I thought.
After laying Cyrus back down for bed, I fixed him a bowl of instant chicken and noodles and decided to give Jasmine a call. The phone rang endlessly before the robotic voice indicated that the caller wasn’t available. I tried once more but gave up after it rang a few more times. Probably sleeping.
I returned to the couch, deciding to rewatch Nightmare on Elm Street for the fourth or fifth time.
After a while, I decided to put on cable, growing tired of the listless titles on Netflix. I was never too interested in the local news, but today seemed as good as any to catch up on the towns happenings. The Grantfield Gators girls softball team had advanced to sectionals and one of the townsfolk were celebrating their 100th birthday.
A ‘Breaking News’ graphic slid below the frazzled newslady on the television. Wherever she was, it sure looked familiar.
‘Wild dog shits on mayors front yard’, I laughed at my own stupid joke and surely turned as white as Cyrus had the previous night as the lady on the TV continued.
“A local woman was found tied to a tree and disemboweled at the scene. Police are saying various symbols were branded all over the womans body, and the material used to bind her to the Elm tree was ‘of unusual property’”, she continued on for a while but I hadn’t noticed, the air had fallen heavy and that familiar warbling had filled the room again.
Heavy footsteps slammed up the staircase at an otherworldly pace. Up the staircase and towards my sons room.
I ran, I swear I ran as fast as I could but I knew… I knew.
When I got to his room, he was gone, the curtains blowing aimlessly in the wind as the window had been slammed open so hard that the glass had shattered in the panes. The bowl of chicken and noodles sat on the bedside table, untouched.
I tried calling Jasmine again and again and again. Still, no answer.
I wanted to write this, to whoever may be reading, so that you know where to look if I don’t return. I know where my son is, I know where Jasmine is.
The flumes took them, or whatever might be lurking in it.

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But then you left.
​
​
​

This post has the potential to be a bit long, so please bear with me...
A question I often ask myself is "are there financial planners for people like me who don't have a ton of money and often barely make ends meet?" So now, I guess I'm asking this sub. I don't know where to turn at this point in my life, which has been riddled with terrible financial decisions, bad luck, and family health issues.
About me: 39, male, USA. I work full-time for a health care company in Pennsylvania, making right around $88K yearly before taxes and deductions. My wife is unable to work due to a variety of health issues (both mental and physical), but does have a small Etsy shop that brings in an average of $300 on a good month. We have an unusually large family by today's standards -- 7 children ranging from 6 years old (twins) to 17. This is the part where people usually look at me like I have three heads, understandably so. Before my wife's health issues, she was a paramedic and in nursing school. So the plan was to eventually have two incomes once the kids were a bit older, but life didn't turn out that way. And before anyone asks, yes, we are done with having kids. I love them all more than life itself and would never imagine a world without them, but I am smart enough now to know that it would not have been this hard with fewer kids.
It's been very hard (nay, impossible) to get by on one income and a large family, even with some help from relatives along the way. But through it all, we have barely made it work, although I have shot my credit to hell and back in the process. My score hovers around 550 to 570 most of the time, but plummets pretty fast if I miss a payment on something.
Right now, high interest debt is my main issue. I have a variety of low-limit credit cards all maxed out (probably $5k total) a personal loan from OneMain Financial ($400 payment), an auto loan from Carvana/BridgeCrest ($508 payment, worst mistake of my life honestly but was in a desperate situation at the time), and student loans I've had to either defer or flat out stop paying. Other high expenses are groceries, obviously, but I do get $600 in SNAP benefits each month, car insurance at $250 per month because my wife has gotten into a few accidents the last 5 years, and of course rent, which is $1,900 since we need a 5-bedroom house for our large family. We used to own our home but were forced to sell in 2022 due to a variety of issues and our dire need to find a larger place to live for our growing kids.
Suffice to say, most months we either barely make ends meet, or don't at all. I sometimes have to rely on cash advance apps like MoneyLion and Earnin just to make it to the next payday. I have pretty much nothing in savings except for a very small "retirement" account, which is in quotes because I contribute 1% to it just to get my company match. I drained it a few years ago during an emergency that is too long of a story to tell here.
Everyone that I have talked to has said the same essential thing -- to look for a higher-paying job. While this is true, it's more complicated than that in reality. My current job (which I have been at for 1.5 years) affords me the flexibility to work from home most days, and understands that I need to care for my wife (who has substantial mental health issues) and kids and not be "on" 100% of the time. That is often more valuable than a higher salary, but I do know that I am capable and skilled enough in my field to eventually take a shot at a higher paying job.
So. What the heck do I do? Is there someone I can talk to about all this, who can give me real, practical advice? Would a credit union be able to help me with my high-interest debt yet terrible credit score/profile? Ideally, I would love to be able to consolidate all my debt into something more manageable. Is that even a possibility with my credit being bad? I get mail offers all the time saying I am "pre-selected" or pre-approved for a consolidation loan from some random company. I think these are all debt relief companies or possibly a scam, right? I am also severely underwater with our current vehicle as mentioned above. I owe probably 8k more than what it's worth right now, and the van is pretty much a lemon with how many problems it has.
Thank you for reading all this. I am a fairly positive person (I have to be, with the kids and taking care of my wife) but this feels pretty hopeless to me right now. I just wish I could hand over everything to someone who can manage my finances for me, and do the heavy lifting to get things under control. Sigh.

I (38 F) have been married to my husband (41 M) for 7 years, this coming June and together for 9 years. We have two kids, twin boys, that are 5 months old. I'm going to give a long backstory so stay with me or scroll to the bottom for the TL;DR.
2 weeks before Mother's Day, I found out my husband had been cheating on me for at least 7 months. I used his phone to use the Lowe's app to order lawn chairs since it's tied to our Lowe's card and I wanted to use our rewards. While I was looking for the particular set I want, he received a Snapchat notification from a woman. I didn't even know he had Snapchat so it peaked my interest. During this time, my husband was mowing the grass.
I open the snap and it's a nude of a woman looking to be in her mid-20s with the caption "I miss you being inside of me". My jaw hit the floor. I started going through his text messages and there were no conversations there with other women except employees from his practice (he is a dermatologist) that were harmless.
I started looking through his Snapchat and I guess he deletes everything because there were no chats between him and this woman. I am not familiar with Snapchat so I Google how to use it while I'm trying to figure out if I can retrieve deleted messages. I don't want to spend all the time I have left of him mowing reading through articles so I give up. I do go through his friend's list and end up coming back to it to take a picture of with my phone.
I look through the rest of the apps on his phone and they all seem benign except this secure folder. I open it and there's a passcode. I try three or four until I figure it out (the date of our first date, ironically) and it opens. There are dozens of nude photos of at least 3 women, including the woman from Snapchat. I know it's the woman from Snapchat because she has a very distinct tattoo on her stomach. Not only are there nudes but there are 2 videos of this same woman giving him oral.
My heart felt like it was trying to come out of my chest. I started shaking and tears started flowing. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and then grabbed my phone and started taking pictures of the evidence. I even recorded clips of the videos, I just couldn't watch them in their entirety.
I look through all the apps again and realize that maybe he has some hidden. So, I google hidden apps on android and follow the instructions. Three apps were hidden. Two messaging apps and a hook-up app called Adult friend finder. I debated even opening them because I was so scared of what I would find. But I ended up viewing them because knowing is better than not knowing for me.
He had been messaging at least 4 different women, including the video girl. He had sex with at least two of them that I found proof of. All messages made me sick but the video girl's messages were the worst and completely shattered my heart. I had to stop to go throw up because of the stress and anxiety.
Some messages that hurt me the most were: Her: "Tell me how much better my p***y is than your wife's." Him: "Wetter, tighter and infinitely better."
Her: *sends nude* "How does my body compare to your wife's?" Him: "There is no comparison baby, you are a goddess."
There were so many others but those two come to mind as the ones that made me feel the absolute worst. Remember, I just had twins 5 months ago. I am very insecure due to all of the changes that happened to my body and my c-section scar. I am also 25 pounds heavier than I was pre-pregnancy. My husband and I stopped having sex because it was so uncomfortable for me about 2 months before I gave birth, around the same time he started messaging these women coincidentally. We've only had sex about three times since they were born due to my insecurity issues and just being so exhausted caring for and breastfeeding twins every day. I also have a business and work from home around the twins' schedules so I can stay at home with them.
I take photos of everything, using my phone again like before. The earliest messages were sent 7 months ago so I know it had been going on for at least 7 months, while I was freaking pregnant with our twins. Oh, I also found out that the night after I had a c-section and while our newborn preemie twins were in the NICU, he met with video girl for a hook-up at her apartment. He told me he was going to get food and check on his office. With our twins being preemies, anything could have happened and he wouldn't have been there because he was with her. But, that wasn't a thought for him I guess.
I close out all the apps, make sure the hidden ones are hidden from his home screen and put his phone back exactly where I found it. I also make sure the snap notification was gone. I was nervous that he would find out about the snap that was opened but he didn't.
I call my best friend of over 33 years who is also my business partner. I tell him everything and have a good cry to let it all out. He helps me to collect myself and gives me some sound advice. He tells me to not tell my husband I found anything yet and to speak with a divorce lawyer as soon as possible. He said to meet with the best ones in my area so that they couldn't represent my husband. He offers me and the twins a place to stay at his home if I need time away from my husband, assuring me that his husband would love to have me there.
Over the next week, my BFF helps me take care of the twins while meet with 5 different divorce lawyers and end up hiring, in my opinion, the best. She tells me not to leave the family home so I end up not going to stay with my BFF. She starts the divorce paperwork immediately. During this time, I am doing my best to continue on like nothing is wrong. I want to make sure all of my ducks are in a row before he realizes what I know.
Fast-forward to Mother's Day. My husband makes me breakfast in bed, gives me very expensive jewelry, flowers, the works. I can't enjoy it, of course, because it feels so fake now that I know what he's been up to. I pretend to love it though.
My husband's father planned a cook out that afternoon for my husband's mother, sister (let's call her Julie), sister-in-law (let's call her Fran) and me. We all have infants under a year old so it's everyone's first Mother's day, except my MIL's of course. I told my husband that I didn't feel like going and he guilt-tripped me by saying that my FIL had a big surprise for me and he's been really looking forward giving it to me. So, I reluctantly agree. I ask if my BFF can come since his mother sadly passed away just under a year ago. He calls his dad and my FIL replies that of course he can come. My BFF agreed to come to offer me support since he knew it would be very difficult for me to be there.
I plan to act like nothing's wrong and try to enjoy the day since it's my first Mother's Day after all. I tell myself that I will focus on the twins and get cuddles from my two nieces. Julie has an 8 month old daughter and Fran (husband's brother's wife) has a 10 month old daughter. I'm also the closest to Julie out of all his family since we became friends 10 years ago and she's the one who introduced me to my husband.
We get there and everything is fine. My husband is helping his dad, brother (let's call him Chris), BIL (let's call him Roger) cook on the grill. My MIL and the women are taking turns holding the babies. My BFF took over the kitchen, finishing up all of the sides so the moms could relax. It started out to be a really good day. I kept myself from thinking of my husband's betrayal for the most part and focused on the family.
After we eat my MIL starts taking pictures of the family. I'm sitting on the couch and she tells my husband to sit beside me for the photo. He does and then she tells him to put his arm around me and jokingly says "pretend like you love her" and I lose it. I start to uncontrollably sob.
My MIL pulls me up and hugs me and my FIL comes over and joins in the hug. My BFF comes to stand right next to me. My FIL asks me what was wrong. I look at my BFF and he gives me a "tell if you want" look.
I tell them that I found out my husband has been cheating on me for at least 7 months. Julie gasps and everyone stares at my husband. He stands up and says "that's not true at all, why would you think that? You know you and the boys are my whole world." Everyone is silent, looking at me. I tell them all that I found messages, pictures, the hook-up app and even videos on his phone. My husband looks faint and sits back down. Nobody says anything for at least 2 minutes.
Finally, Julie asks my husband, while crying herself, why? My husband tells her that "I made a mistake, I only talked to the women, I never physically cheated." My BFF quickly replies, "Liar!" Julie then asks me what all I found. I tell them everything, the nudes, the videos of my husband receiving oral, the messages and even tell them what those horrible messages said about me. He continues to deny it! I pull up a few message photos and show them to Julie, my MIL and FIL. My husband tries to gaslight me by saying that he admitted to talking to other women but he never slept with any of them. I really don't want to show them the video but I do find a few messages where my husband and a woman talked about their previous sexual encounters. My husband again says that he admitted to talking to them but never really cheated. He literally says "if the message talks about sex it was just role playing."
Roger (Julie's husband) goes over to my husband and jerks his phone out of his hand. My husband tries to get it back but Roger is 6'7 and my husband is 6'1 so he just holds it up where my husband can't reach. He asks me what his passcode is and I tell him. He then asks me where to find things and as I start to tell him my husband grabs his phone back.
At this point my MIL, Julie and Fran are all crying. Chris starts getting upset with me. He tells me this was not the time nor place to bring this all up and that I ruined Julie and Fran's first Mother's Day. Julie speaks up and says no, my husband is the one who ruined it. Chris starts yelling and saying that our personal business needs to stay private and that I had no right to bring it up to his family and ruin the only first mother's day the women will get. Fran agrees with him and tells me I'm definitely in the wrong for bringing it up, if it even is true.
At this point both of my twins start crying. I am not going to breastfeed them there and I want to get out of that house as quick as possible. I ask my BFF to take me home and we transfer the car seats from my husband's vehicle into his. My MIL follows me outside and says that Chris was right, I should have kept it all to myself and that now future Mother's Days will be a reminder of this fiasco for everyone. I just ignore her and put the twins in the car. My husband comes outside and asks if we can please talk. I tell him no, get in the car and my BFF, the twins and I leave. I end up feeling horrible and guilty that I let it all out to everyone.
My husband didn't come home and ended up staying at his parents house and has been there the past two nights. He got my FIL to come over Sunday evening and pick up clothes, toiletries, work stuff and various other items. While he was here I asked him, did I ruin Mother's Day? He tells me no that my husband did. He said that he asked me what was wrong and I was honest. He said he understood now why the "pretend like you love her" comment caused me to breakdown. I asked him about my MIL, Chris and Fran since I know Julie and Roger aren't mad at me. He said that they are still angry with me but they will eventually get over it.
TL;DR - I found out my husband had been cheating on me for at least 7 months with multiple women, starting while I was pregnant with our twins and continuing after I gave birth. I didn't tell him I knew for 2 weeks. At a Mother's Day cookout that his family hosted for his mother, me, his sister and sister-in-law, his mother made a comment that made me break down. I ended up telling everyone about the infidelity. His brother, SIL, and mother told me I ruined his sister and SIL's first Mother's Day. and that I shouldn't have said anything about the affairs.
Am I the AH?

https://preview.redd.it/nwiyokrzif0d1.jpg?width=2042&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4648c75d1568ae1be1283b207fd613c669864f23
The asphalt paint at Bartel-Prichard Square is faded and a danger to pedestrians and motorists alike. If you've walked or driven this circle then you know how confusing and dangerous it is to traverse. Cars frequently stop for the red light at 15th st in the middle of the intersection because it's difficult to see the lines (and drivers are not trying too hard anyway). There are lots of kids and families here 7 days a week and it can be harrowing on a good day.
I've submitted a 311 request but I feel like the more people that do it, the more likely they are to pay attention. The web form linked is very fast to fill out but don't bother calling 311, it'll be a lot slower and when I reported this over the phone they filed it as "rough/cracked asphalt" which was not helpful.
Lets get this thing painted and hopefully make things just a little bit safer for everyone!
311 link: https://portal.311.nyc.gov/servicerequest-create/What?caid=6adfd55a-1694-e811-a967-000d3a1c5096
details:

• Bartel-Pritchard Square
• Corner of Prospect Park West & 15th street
• You do NOT need to enter your contact info to submit the request

This is a long 'get it off my chest'. Met A online while they were engaged to and living with Z. A and I hit it off very hard, very fast. The romance was intense, and A would sometimes say things that rubbed me the wrong way: “I want to be with you at the end of the universe” and the like -- things that seemed very “mono-minded”. Z had had a secondary partner for a year at this point, while A had not kept one since they asked Z to open the relationship. A and I met up once IRL during this time. I did not meet Z, nor did I ask to. I said eventually that I may be falling too hard to handle being secondary.
Also… I’ve been around poly enough to be able to tell A’s engagement was failing, and told them so. A insisted that while their love for Z was not intense or sexual anymore, they were still in love and planned to get married. I was not trying to replace Z, but simply saw it as a matter of fact that they were ‘over’, and trying to use poly to fill the cracks or branch off, which A denied. A was desperate to keep me around and said they wanted me to be “co-primary”, which felt ridiculous given the engagement.
Eventually, I left due to the distance making it impossible to get my needs met in the way I wanted with this person, and I was too emotionally invested to find a primary partner if I was seeing them (I generally consider myself more “poly-saturated at one partner” than mono).
Three months later, I get a 15-minute VM: I was right, they were no longer engaged, and they still held a torch for me. A told Z about their unhappiness, and despite attempts to rekindle, it was over. A+Z were now ‘queer platonic’, a phrase I admit I’d only heard a couple of times. I assumed that this was a relationship like mine with my ex — we live together, care for our home together, are best friends, and are part of each other’s families, but we are not ‘together’ and cannot ‘break up’. I was a bit skeptical (my ex and I needed a couple of years at minimum, with lots of discussions, breaks in contact, time living apart, etc. to get to that healthy point), and I felt that A needed to be single: they’d had two nearly back-to-back LTRs (both failed engagements) since their teens, and I didn’t feel that jumping into things with me was the best idea. Being stupid and still in love, of course, I waited barely any time before jumping back. I tried whenever I could to get A to do more for themselves, as they seemed so focused on me. Looking back I would say with certainty they have codependency issues, and I felt like I could “fix” it somehow.
We spent the next few months talking, planning a long-term future together, where they’d move and our general timelines. I asked that, due to our distance and the complications of our history, I’d like us to start off monogamously for a mutually-agreed on period of time. They readily accepted, and I planned to ask them to be my primary this summer.
1st flag: A and Z were still partnered online. When asked, A said “I don’t use the (gay) apps much [not true] and don’t care what my profile says [questionable, given my perception of them]”. I let it pass for months, nothing changed, and then was firm that (1) I knew that they were not being honest, and needed to tell me what wasn’t being shared, and (2) It was important to me that they were publicly single before we coupled. To (1), they admitted that Z had asked A that they not make their breakup public yet. Z had had recent personal problems, and A felt bad pushing the issue, especially after initiating the breakup. To (2), A said they would revisit the question with Z soon. I felt hurt, and they were worried we had escalated too quickly, so we took a month break.
Towards the end of this break, A finally talked with Z, saying they wanted to pursue me. This did not go over well, but A was insistent. I was glad, but days later I still had some discomfort based on things A said, and, taking a wild guess, I asked — “Hey, is Z insisting you keep him as a partner, so he’s your platonic/nesting partner and I’m the ‘romantic’ one?”. A admitted this was true, and that, while they wanted a clear breakup, their life was too enmeshed with Z to risk his reaction. They even worried Z would kick them out of his house and take back his car if they did not stay partnered. They also said I “should have said something sooner” to pre-empt this situation, which seemed… nuts, especially since we talked about mono/being single. I said I would not participate in this arrangement. They said I was making ultimatums, but I felt that ‘surprise poly’ was an exception. I felt completely betrayed by all this. I asked A if this situation would end once they found a way to move out, and they said they ‘didn’t know’. They could not stand hurting him further (this was the refrain over and over) or risking what they had. I ended things then, because:

1. I no longer knew how to trust A after seeing this pattern multiple times
2. They had gone back on our agreement that they be single and we start off mono — without communicating to me beforehand or after, only telling me because I guessed.
3. The poly situation I was being asked to come into exists primarily out of fear of loss.
4. I felt, selfishly, like whatever A+Z had was always going to be chosen above what A might have with me, or that Z and I would be forced to be ‘enemies’ for A’s resources given the bad blood.

I’m feeling very adrift and frustrated right now. I’m a pretty independent person, and pride myself on being honest and upfront now, because that skill took me a LONG time to learn. A is slightly older than me, and I just don’t understand why they couldn’t be clear with me or Z. I’m feeling insecure because I haven’t had a partnership as long as A+Z, and part of me thinks I’m being immature and trying to rush their decoupling… but also, A is the one that reached back out, and I’m not trying to set their life on fire. I just think everyone will move on in a more healthy way with honesty. I worry that I should have been more open to the poly situation, but I also know that I’m free to set my own boundaries — also, I didn’t walk in knowing that A+Z were now basically NPs. I think I was given the runaround. Ugh.

This post has the potential to be a bit long, so please bear with me...
A question I often ask myself is "are there financial planners for people like me who don't have a ton of money and often barely make ends meet?" So now, I guess I'm asking this sub. I don't know where to turn at this point in my life, which has been riddled with terrible financial decisions, bad luck, and family health issues.
About me: 39, male, USA. I work full-time for a health care company in Pennsylvania, making right around $88K yearly before taxes and deductions. My wife is unable to work due to a variety of health issues (both mental and physical), but does have a small Etsy shop that brings in an average of $300 on a good month. We have an unusually large family by today's standards -- 7 children ranging from 6 years old (twins) to 17. This is the part where people usually look at me like I have three heads, understandably so. Before my wife's health issues, she was a paramedic and in nursing school. So the plan was to eventually have two incomes once the kids were a bit older, but life didn't turn out that way. And before anyone asks, yes, we are done with having kids. I love them all more than life itself and would never imagine a world without them, but I am smart enough now to know that it would not have been this hard with fewer kids.
It's been very hard (nay, impossible) to get by on one income and a large family, even with some help from relatives along the way. But through it all, we have barely made it work, although I have shot my credit to hell and back in the process. My score hovers around 550 to 570 most of the time, but plummets pretty fast if I miss a payment on something.
Right now, high interest debt is my main issue. I have a variety of low-limit credit cards all maxed out (probably $5k total) a personal loan from OneMain Financial ($400 payment), an auto loan from Carvana/BridgeCrest ($508 payment, worst mistake of my life honestly but was in a desperate situation at the time), and student loans I've had to either defer or flat out stop paying. Other high expenses are groceries, obviously, but I do get $600 in SNAP benefits each month, car insurance at $250 per month because my wife has gotten into a few accidents the last 5 years, and of course rent, which is $1,900 since we need a 5-bedroom house for our large family. We used to own our home but were forced to sell in 2022 due to a variety of issues and our dire need to find a larger place to live for our growing kids.
Suffice to say, most months we either barely make ends meet, or don't at all. I sometimes have to rely on cash advance apps like MoneyLion and Earnin just to make it to the next payday. I have pretty much nothing in savings except for a very small "retirement" account, which is in quotes because I contribute 1% to it just to get my company match. I drained it a few years ago during an emergency that is too long of a story to tell here.
Everyone that I have talked to has said the same essential thing -- to look for a higher-paying job. While this is true, it's more complicated than that in reality. My current job (which I have been at for 1.5 years) affords me the flexibility to work from home most days, and understands that I need to care for my wife (who has substantial mental health issues) and kids and not be "on" 100% of the time. That is often more valuable than a higher salary, but I do know that I am capable and skilled enough in my field to eventually take a shot at a higher paying job.
So. What the heck do I do? Is there someone I can talk to about all this, who can give me real, practical advice? Would a credit union be able to help me with my high-interest debt yet terrible credit score/profile? Ideally, I would love to be able to consolidate all my debt into something more manageable. Is that even a possibility with my credit being bad? I get mail offers all the time saying I am "pre-selected" or pre-approved for a consolidation loan from some random company. I think these are all debt relief companies or possibly a scam, right? I am also severely underwater with our current vehicle as mentioned above. I owe probably 8k more than what it's worth right now, and the van is pretty much a lemon with how many problems it has.
Thank you for reading all this. I am a fairly positive person (I have to be, with the kids and taking care of my wife) but this feels pretty hopeless to me right now. I just wish I could hand over everything to someone who can manage my finances for me, and do the heavy lifting to get things under control. Sigh.

Genocide Reigns
(note: I'm an indie game developer making an action/horror title called Phantasphere. This story is a spin off set in the same universe)
Year 2480X Ryze County Police Department
He's coming. The ensuing panic spread like a virus infecting all present with symptoms of looming dread. Officers worked steadfast to prepare also taking what time remained to train the few combat hardened civilians whom had fled to the station earlier. If only they knew. This demon that presented itself as a man had led a string of senseless massacres across the country. Only recently had it begun to prioritize police stations and army bases as a means of breaking the will of civilians who knew they would be next. Officers from several counties across the states were transferred here for this last stand. This Genocide must not continue. Gracia checked her pistol. Some 20 bullets remained. "I can do this", she thought, "I have to". She had dealt with similar cases before. Some poor soul is overtaken by some inextricably evil force and makes it their life's work to propagate death. Gracia had killed quite a few already. Live arrests weren't always possible. Beyond saving, careful interrogations of the scarce live catches yielded a startling connection. These killers all alluded to a well of overwhelming hatred and despair that consumed them after making eye contact with...Pale, black eyed entities. Some type of demon? Ghost maybe? The idea seemed nonsensical, but there was evidence nonetheless that some outside force was using them to fulfill some unknown purpose. At the present time, all they could do was stop the killers after they had killed. It was always too late by then and more would appear randomly elsewhere. What good could be done here in an isolated station hoping to stop one guy out of possibly hundreds? "The guy we're waiting for is different from the others," detective Evans spoke from the center of a crowd nearby. Gracia moved in closer. "The others typically strike from the shadows, hide their faces behind masks, and prefer to get up close and personal with their victims. What we're dealing with is on a completely different scale. The trail of bloodshed this guy leaves is too difficult for the media to cover up. He loves the spectacle. Headlining the news. We can't keep using the burst pipeline excuse for 6 stations being destroyed in a row. We have to stop him before the world at large finds out. You wonder why we need so many people here? Its simple. We're gonna out-man this one man. He always attacks stations through the front door. Like other killers he's fast, strong- you know the usual, but he also uses guns." "What!", a voice rang out from the crowd. "They aren't supposed to do that!" another gasped. Officer Lary spoke with a cheesy grin" Ya tellin' me we just gotta deal with a regular ass gunman eh? That's a welcome change of pace init? Heck I'm too old to be running around being chased like I'm in some scary movie". The detective rebutted" You don't get it. He uses guns. Not a handgun, not rifles, not boom sticks, not rpgs, not knives not grenades but ALL of them. He uses guns. Plural. It'll take essentially an army to match his arsenal. He used to be a man named -redacted-, but in his pursuit of chaos he has become Genocide." A dark form manifests from the night outside the station. Genocide is coming.
Bang! something slams into the front door. Everyone freezes. Officer Tatum edges slowly to it, shockgun in hand. By no means lethal, the shockgun was lighter, easy to control, and could stun targets temporarily. If Genocide was here, Tatum could stun him and duck for cover leaving the station free to light him up like a Christmas tree. That was the plan they came up with. He got closer to the glass door and peered outside. He was met with hate filled bloodshot eyes framed by an unkempt beard and wild straggly hair. Tatum felt some relief. He knew the man outside. It was Jim Jimenez. Jim was a former drug dealer turned informant. He was found out and had to flee from his old life. He became homeless, hiding in plane sight. This allowed him safety at the cost of his mental health. Tatum knew the man, but those eyes were not his. Tatum blinked and saw that the look of malice had vanished. What he instead saw was a helpless, wounded man, bleeding from the right arm pleading for help. Tatum looked behind Jim, eyeing the empty lot. The coast seemingly clear Tatum unlocked the door and let Jim in. Jim had been roaming the town looking for shelter and tried squatting in an abandoned looking apartment complex. There he found that the building contained several murdered families some succumbing to gunshots but the majority having met their end to fire and suffocation. Jim had decided to make his way to the station to tell police what happened and met trouble on the way. He described getting stabbed by a man wearing a trench coat with long dark hair. Despite the injuries, Jim could move surprisingly well and seemed to ignore the pain. Jim insisted that the man had spared him on the condition he deliver a message. "What message?" Tatum asked. Jim beckoned him to come closer. Tatum leaned in and Jim whispered, "Tell them. Tell them that Genocide is coming closer." The following events were a blur. Jim had concealed the knife he was stabbed with. He stabbed Tatum 4 times in the chest and wrestled his shockgun away. Using Tatum as a shield, Jim engaged everyone in the lobby. Jim wasn't himself. He was stronger. He was faster. He was tactical. He would stun an officer in place only to stab them and use their as a body shield. No one could get a clear shot without hitting a colleague. Gracia watched the scene unfold. In minutes Jim had acquired a magnum from the holster of one of his victims. In seconds 3 officers had their heads exploded. The magnum rounds coated the walls red with those they hit and stained the clothes of those they missed. Gracia felt fear rising in her chest. She calmed herself and tried to think. She saw the bodies on the ground. The blood. She saw how dismissively Jim stepped over them. Like they were nothing. Like trash. She saw the man firing erratically into groups of people, not so much to kill but as to cause panic. That's it! As Gracia contemplated her next move it hit her. She was knocked backwards and landed on the ground. She weakly clutched her chest. Her breathing grew shallow. Jim mad his way deeper into the station. The officers were retreating from their standoff. Jim stepped over her body and saw red staining her uniform. Just another casualty. He moved on. At this point the civilians began panicking. Everyone gave up trying to save their allies and fired blindly at the madman. "Don't shoot the messenger," Jim laughed as he stripped his latest meat shield of an automatic rifle. Detective Evans took cover behind an overturned desk. To his left Larry struggled to light a cigar. "You still think this is a cakewalk?" Evans shouted firing 2 quick shots from his gun before ducking back down. Lary lost hold of his lighter and it clattered on the ground." Crap." He reached for it and looked in the corner of the room. A mirror. He looked at it for what seemed like ages and his smirk returned " Y'know that mex'n gal with the short hair. Where is she? I didn't see her get shot." Evans glanced a peak at Jim spraying lead in all directions. Behind him was a corpse. Evans blinked. It seemed to be getting closer. Its her. Gracia painstakingly inched her way into Jim's blind spot. She was roughly 6 feet away from him. Flanking him seemed like a brilliant idea but waiting idly by for the right moment as the people around her died filled her with anger. Worse still, she had to steal a blood soaked shirt from one of the deceased officers to keep up the facade. Inching ever so steadily she mad it within 3 feet of Jim. She reached behind her belt and unclipped a pair of handcuffs. Screams could be heard as more people were hit. Gracia couldn't wait any longer. Fluidly she got to her feet and rushed Jim. She kicked the back of his knee causing him to stumble as she put the handcuffs on him. Figuratively. The handcuffs were around Jim's neck. She yanked him back causing his gun to drop. "You don't know what you're doing." Jim spat. "We all need to accept it. The end of days is upon us. Death rides his horse through these forsaken lands. We must serve or be sacrificed in turn. Accept it!"He elbowed Gracia in the ribs causing her to let go. He spun around and lunged at her. She landed on her back, Jim steadily choking her. Gracia thought fast. She couldn't struggle. Jim was too strong. She delivered a precise chop to the center of Jim's neck which was exposed. Jim lurched back to catch his breath. A clean shot. A bullet pierced through Jim's back. Weakened, Gracia rolled him over and began punching him repeatedly using the handcuffs as brass knuckles. The sound of Jim's skull cracking echoed through the station. This would go on for nearly 20 seconds before Gracia stopped, checked his pulse, confirmed Jim was still alive, then finally put the cuffs on Jim's wrists.
Click. Bodies are wrapped and moved to a makeshift storage room. Click. The available weapons are gathered and redistributed. Click. Officers are assigned to sniping positions on neighboring buildings. Click. Police cruisers circle the lot outside. Click. In the holding cell, Jim opens his eyes. Click. Lary flicks his lighter. Click. Gracia sips coffee from a paper cup. Click. Shells hit the ground at the feet of Genocide. Click. Genocide walks outside a cafe and looks at the station in the distance. Click. Lary clicks his lighter.
"All ya'll gon' fall," Jim ranted." You can't drain the ocean. You can't put out the sun. Evil will always exist. That there Genocide is proof . I saw him. Saw myself within his eyes. Saw the evil in me that I could no longer try to hide. He taught me to embrace the darkness within. Its in all of us begging to be let out. Can you hear it!" Lary clicked his lighter and got up from his chair. He grabbed a cup of liquor from another officer mid sip and walked over to Jim. He doused it on Jim, the liquid stinging his open wounds. Jim yelped. Across the station, radios blurred to life. Several of their lookouts on the outside had been killed. "He's gon' get ya," Jim smiled imitating Lary's signature grin. "Genocide! Genocide! Genocide!" The other inmates saw the chance to irritate Lary and joined in all shouting in unison,"Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide!" The chanting grew louder. Unbearable. They invoked upon the name of the beast, and so it came.
Genocide is upon us. A wave of dread spread across the officers. They could feel its presence. Gracia knew the sensation. The awful aura that the other killers gave off. This was different. Far more oppressive. She struggled to breathe as the air got colder. Her instincts screamed for her to run. She could only imagine what the others were going through. Its time. Across the lot Genocide stood. A siren blared over the intercom. "Everyone get into positions!" Evans yelled. Wayne finished setting the last of the c4 near the station entrance. "That's the last of them. Have remote triggers set around all the major hallways. I'll be in the security room ready to pull the switch." Wayne acted as an explosives expert. His job was to detonate bombs placed throughout the station to slow down Genocide should it enter the building. He would stay in the security room, monitoring the cameras and giving real time updates on the officers' positions. From the holding cell, inmates chanted for Genocide. Lary got off his phone" That bastard mixed us up. How did we not notice?" Evans asked what he meant. Lary, dumbfounded, said that most of the town was already dead. Genocide had broken his usual pattern. He went on a killing spree across a defenseless town BEFORE attacking the police station. They had let everyone down. The people they swore to protect. This Genocide was a monster, but he was still a man. Capable of learning from his past actions. Planning. Adapting. It wasn't in his style to stealthily kill his victims or even use a silencer on any of his guns, but an exception had been made for tonight. An exception that would cost them. Gracia was stationed on the second floor. She peered out the window. Her heart skipped a beat. Two cruisers made slow donuts patrolling the lot and standing unmoving between them was a man all in black. Gracia called in to Wayne asking if he saw anything outside. Wayne said the monitors were all clear then checked again. He cursed. He noticed small details were off. The cameras showing the outside of the station were wrong. Sure they showed the same scenery and weather but cars passed by on screen too frequently for a dead town. Too many to make sense for the quarantine they had set in place. Wayne concluded that the cameras had been hacked. Different prerecorded footage was being shown on the live feed to misdirect them. Gracia saw the man look up at her. A light rain started to fall. The officers patrolling outside were contacted. From the holding cells, inmates called for genocide.

What is Gvust?

Gvust is your ultimate companion in the fast-paced world of car flipping. Designed to help both seasoned flippers and newcomers, our advanced bot ensures you stay ahead of the competition by delivering real-time alerts on the best car deals from popular platforms. With Gvust, you can say goodbye to endless scrolling and missed opportunities and hello to efficiency, success, and maximum profits!

Key Features of Gvust:

• Real-Time Alerts: Gvust monitors popular car-selling platforms like Craigslist, OfferUp, Facebook Marketplace, and Kijiji in real-time. The moment a new listing is posted, Gvust delivers an alert directly to your device, ensuring you’re always the first to know about the latest deals. This immediate access gives you the competitive edge to secure the best deals before anyone else.
• Customizable Filters: Every car flipper has unique preferences and strategies. Gvust allows you to tailor your search criteria to fit your specific needs. Whether you’re looking for a particular make and model, a specific price range, or cars within a certain distance, Gvust’s customizable filters ensure you only receive alerts that matter to you. Spend less time sorting through irrelevant listings and more time closing great deals.
• Secure & Private: We prioritize your privacy and data security. Gvust operates without requiring personal information, and all interactions are conducted through the trusted Telegram app. This ensures that your data remains secure and private while you enjoy the benefits of real-time alerts and advanced search capabilities.
• Free 2-Week Trial: We believe in the power of Gvust and want you to experience its benefits firsthand. That’s why we offer a free 2-week trial with no commitment. Try Gvust risk-free and see how it can revolutionize your car flipping strategy. After the trial, continue using Gvust with a simple, affordable month-to-month subscription.

Why Join Gvust?

Our Reddit community is the perfect place to connect with fellow car flippers who are using Gvust to enhance their flipping game. Here’s what you can expect as a member of Gvust:

• Tips & Tricks: Share and discover valuable tips and strategies for successful car flipping. Learn from experienced flippers and stay updated on the latest market trends.
• Support & Feedback: Have questions or need help with Gvust? Our community is here to support you. Get quick answers, share feedback, and help us improve the Gvust experience.
• Success Stories: Celebrate your wins and get inspired by others. Share your success stories and see how Gvust is helping fellow members achieve their flipping goals.
• Exclusive Updates: Be the first to know about new features, updates, and special promotions. As part of the Gvust community, you’ll have access to exclusive content and offers.

Join Gvust today and take your car flipping game to the next level. Together, we can revolutionize the way we find and flip cars, making the process faster, more efficient, and more profitable.
Welcome to the future of car flipping with Gvust!

My car's transmission is on the fritz, so it's in the shop and I'm working from home for at least today. Thank goodness I can even work from home, or things would be a lot more complicated. Anyways, that's just a bit of a vent. I've also decided that I might do little lore-esque prechapter bits for some extra flavor. Hope you guys enjoy them! I find them to be fun little thought experiments on how people might perceive the world I've created from within vs from my own perspective. Enjoy some crafting and some romance!
First Previous Next
We know that the spots that are caused by looking at a source of light are, in fact, damage of some sort to the eye. This is confirmed by the spots rapidly disappearing should someone be healed whilst experiencing them. But why? Is there a divinity within light, beyond what our mortal eyes can withstand? Is there some sort of invisible emanation that comes alongside the light that damages us in some way? The discovery of light damaging the eye has opened more questions for me than it has closed.
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. It's almost two in the morning and I have to be up for school in a few hours. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night. Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you can from right to left you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications. The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke that my Mom was cheating on my Dad. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.” I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory. My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you. I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess. BZZT.BZZT.BZZT. I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over. “Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.. “As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.” Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess. “She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response. “She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.” “For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction. The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there. “Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him. “Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus. The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps. James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide. “Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks. “Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it. “Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time? “It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?” “Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.” “Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does. “It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.” “I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.” “That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls. “It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!” Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus. “Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver. “I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!” “More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing. “You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line. “You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression. “Vaguely, what about her?” “She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door. “Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him. “I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.” James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes. “Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car. “It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth. “So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off. “They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.” “Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?” I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance? “We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?” She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder. “I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again. “Okay,” I say. She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird. “Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction. “Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?” “That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say. “Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it. “I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash. “Oh yeah? What color this time?” “I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.” “You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.” “Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.” “I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly. “Eager to create today, Abbi?” I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me. “Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal. “How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him. “Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.” “Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears. “No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.” Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me. “Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand. “Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.” My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me. “Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the semester, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.” I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair. “Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me. “Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him. “I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me. “She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?” “I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.” “Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon. “So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad. “I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.

This might be silly, but I went on a road trip recently and got bored on back country roads. I wanted to see how fast I could get my car and I took a picture of the speedometer at 105MPH with a disposable camera. Am I gonna get in trouble if I try to get these photos processed? It dawned on me shortly after that taking a picture was kinda stupid.

So first thanks to all who responded to my other post with my barrage of questions - your responses were super helpful! I decided to cast my search net a little wider late last week and found a 2022 Preferred that was 3 hours away with 38K km on it (so a little less than average here in Canada). Spoke with the salesperson who handles Internet traffic and he described it in 9/10 condition so I decided to drive up this past weekend and take a look. I was not disappointed and condition-wise, it was exceptionally good, far better than the one I had seen already. The price was reasonable as well, and I managed to get them down a bit, so I put a deposit on it Saturday. Fast forward to today, everything is moving forward and looks like I'll be picking it up on Saturday (!). So lots of phone calls, coordinating, etc. as well as trying to list my Santa Fe online.
As others have noted based on what I've read, I have some extended warranty options available. I went with the Certified Pre-Owned extra year right away on Saturday, which takes me to Oct 2026. I also have the option of adding on another 1 or 2 years on top of that for < $5/month for each additional year so will likely go with one of those for peace of mind.
The thing I wasn't aware of was the option for a one-time rustproofing application, which warranties the car against rust from the inside out for 6 years. Then there is also a paint sealant option, as well as interior protection options. For those not familiar with the options, there is a Gold package (rust, paint sealant, surface rust protection) for $30/month in my payment; and a Platinum package (rust, paint sealant, surface rust protection, and interior protection) for $44/month.
I am typically the kind of person who does NOT go for any extended warranty of any kind (the CPO had the extra benefit of much better financing rates in addition to the extra year). But as I look at my 2011 Santa Fe and the rust it now has, I am rethinking my position. Though admittedly, leaning more on the side of not going for the package options but just going with one of the main extended warranty options.
Curious if others have gone or not gone for these packages and why. Would love to hear your opinions! Thanks in advance!

In the fast-paced world we inhabit, finding time to care for our beloved vehicles often takes a back seat to our daily commitments. Yet, ensuring our cars remain pristine and well-maintained is paramount not only for aesthetics but also for longevity and performance. Check out: car detailing mclean va
This is where Intersport Car Spa & Storage steps in, offering a haven for car enthusiasts and busy individuals alike.
A Sanctuary for Your Vehicle:
Nestled in the heart of urban centers, Intersport Car Spa & Storage isn’t just another car wash or parking lot. It’s a sanctuary meticulously crafted to cater to the needs of both car connoisseurs and everyday drivers. As you enter the facility, a sense of sophistication envelopes you, setting the tone for the exceptional service that lies ahead.
Luxurious Amenities:
Intersport Car Spa & Storage isn’t merely a place to park your vehicle; it’s an experience. Imagine a sleek lounge area where you can relax as your car undergoes a thorough spa treatment. Sip on gourmet coffee or enjoy complimentary refreshments while catching up on work using high-speed Wi-Fi. The facility is equipped with state-of-the-art amenities, ensuring that your time spent here is nothing short of indulgent.
Comprehensive Car Care:
From exterior detailing to interior cleaning and beyond, Intersport Car Spa & Storage leaves no stone unturned when it comes to caring for your vehicle. Their team of expert technicians employs the latest techniques and premium products to restore your car to its pristine condition. Whether it’s removing stubborn stains from upholstery or buffing out minor scratches, your vehicle is in capable hands.
Tailored Storage Solutions:
Beyond the spa treatments, Intersport Car Spa & Storage offers premium storage solutions for those who seek a secure haven for their vehicles. Climate-controlled storage units ensure that your prized possession is shielded from the elements, preserving its condition for years to come. Whether you’re a collector with a fleet of vintage cars or simply need a safe space for your daily driver, Intersport has you covered.
Convenience Redefined:
What truly sets Intersport Car Spa & Storage apart is its unwavering commitment to convenience. Booking a service is seamless, thanks to their user-friendly online platform. Need a last-minute detailing before a special event? No problem. With flexible scheduling options, they accommodate even the busiest of schedules. Additionally, their valet service ensures that your car is always ready when you need it, sparing you the hassle of waiting.
A Testament to Excellence:
In an industry saturated with mediocrity, Intersport Car Spa & Storage stands as a beacon of excellence. Their dedication to quality, coupled with a passion for customer satisfaction, sets them apart as the premier destination for discerning car owners. Whether you’re seeking top-notch detailing services or a secure storage facility, Intersport exceeds expectations at every turn.
Conclusion:
Intersport Car Spa & Storage isn’t just a facility; it’s a lifestyle. With a relentless focus on luxury, convenience, and uncompromising quality, they have redefined the automotive care experience. So, the next time your vehicle needs some tender loving care, trust Intersport to deliver nothing short of perfection. After all, your car deserves the best.
For more information regarding auto detailing mclean va visit our website: https://www.intersportcarspa.com/

This happened several years ago. I was dating my ex who I also worked with, we worked different shifts. I worked first shift he worked second. One day I had to pick him up and bring him to work because his car was being worked on. We only lived about 10 minutes from work so it was no big deal to leave and come back mid afternoon.
I go to our apartment, pick him up, and we’re heading back to work with me driving. We lived close but had to get on the highway to go one exit down to get there. Side roads took twice as long. I’m on the ramp that I need, it’s one of those still kind of highway ramps that have multiple exits and entrances on it with two lanes, and I needed the last exit, the third one.
I’m in the left lane because I’m not ready to exit yet, the right lane is for cars entering and exiting. A boomer lady in the right lane decides she needs to be exactly where I was at that very moment and proceeds to shift lanes. There are no shoulders, just guardrails so I can’t even move over. I hit the brake and lean on my horn but she’s oblivious and manages to still hit me. After she bounced off me she exits on the second exit. I can’t follow her because I was still in the left lane and she exited immediately, there was no time.
So as much as I wanted to go after her I couldn’t, so I shift lanes and take the third exit like I normally would, planning to drop my ex at work and then go to the police station to make a report. At the end of the exit ramp is a red light and I’m stopped, and this big black pickup truck with a boomer guy in it is right up my butt behind me and honking. I was already shaken and this was adding to it. I take the turns I need to go to work which is very out of the way and this guy was definitely following me.
I pull into my work parking lot but turn around as I don’t want this guy knowing I work there and told my ex sorry I’m going to the police station now, your gonna be late to work. The truck boomer is still following me and honking his horn until we get to another red light with two lanes and he pulls up beside me, fully blocking traffic in that lane, and starts yelling at me “I SAW YOU HIT THAT LADY” “I GOT YOUR PICTURE” All with this smug grin on his face like he was going to serve justice.
Like ??? If you were actually paying attention, SHE hit ME!
I just told him if he’d like to keep stalking me I’m going to the police station. He peeled out in the opposite direction. Guess he didn’t want to be a vigilante after all, not with the police involved anyway. I went to the police station and reported them both. Never actually heard anything, never got her license plate number because it all happened too fast.