Woman pooping in pant

BizzareFurryFetishes

2020.10.08 15:08 BizzareFurryFetishes

This is a safe spot for furries who have interest in weird kinks and fetishes such as farting, fatness, vore, inflation, scat, diapers, incest, latex, feet, armpits, pee, pant pooping and so many more! So if you feel like this is your kinda place and you’ll meet your kind of people here, stay awhile tell stories post art (keep it furry related please) make friends but please do not harass others this is a safe spot for all to enjoy there fetishes and maybe even find new ones!
[link]

2024.05.16 00:28 Alexander_Sturnn Regrets and Resolve, Part I

Part I of my Story on the Empress GF, which may or may not yet come as a Meme in this AU from u/Sweet_older-Sister. But whether or not, I wrote this up and wanted to share it with you, with Part II soon to follow.
WARNING: Is you expect this to be a harsh takedown or bashing of AU!Big E, I have to disappoint you. She WILL be criticized, but I personally prefer him/her to be a sympathetic, ultimately well-meaning, if highly flawed, Character. Also, the SO for Big E is both perpetual and a Psyker, just not one anywhere near her Level. That said, I kept them Gender-neutral, so if you wanna imagine them and Big E as Golden Space Lesbian Mommies, feel free to do so!
Regardless of all that, however, I mostly just hope you can enjoy this! Have fun!
I open the door to her chamber, paying no heed tot he noises of raging battle, clearly audible despite all the walls, doors and distance between us and them.
As always, despite the gold-plated…everything, the most radiant thing in this room is still her.
Tall and proud she stands as she puts on the last pieces of her golden armor, light glowing off o fit, pure and bright. Her mighty sword hangs by her side and her long, raven black hair is flowing down her back. When she turns around, her glowing eyes, which seemed so often to somehow hold both the untold wisdom oft he wises changes and yet also the boundless arrogance oft he most reckless fools widen upon seeing me, before they swiftly narrow again.
„…I told my Companions to keep you away“, she says, her voice sounding cold and rejecting.
„Well, too bad“, I say, meeting her eyes without fear. „They know better than to try and keep me away when the two of us have to talk.“
Anger briefly flares up in her eyes. „There is nothing to talk about. You are distracting me from preparing for battle!“, she says, her voice cold, harsh and regal, demanding obedience. „As your Empress, I order you to leave. At once!!“
Most other men and women would have crumbled at this moment. Hastily apologized and retreated.
But not me.
I stand my ground and return her cold glare without flinching. „…I am not your Subordinate“, I say, firmly and steadfast. „Not at this moment. Right now, I am your Consort and equal, and as such, I refuse that order!!“
Her eyes widen before she grits her teeth. „You DARE defy your Empress?!“ She stomps a foot on the ground. „I command you, LEAVE!!“
I narrow my eyes. „No.“
„I SAID LEAVE!!!“ Her scream shakes the room far more harshly than the distant Artillery Fire ever had. Her voice rings not just in my ears, but in my mind and soul, as psychic pressure seems to drown the room.
And still, I stand my ground and glare up at the Golden Giantess above me. „NO!!“
Her mask is slowly cracking, her eyes wide and her breathing starting to become uneven. „I…I ORDER you to LEAVE-“
„And I REFUSE!!“ My own shout is not nearly as impressive in terms of sheer power…but it seems to hit the Empress of Mankind like a whiplash.
Her breathing going ever more ragged, she turns away from me. „There is NOTHING to talk about, now!! Leave!!“
I clench my fist, a wave of anger rushing through me. „You think you can just shut me out like that?! Confine me to a secure Chamber while you rush off to your Doom?! You selfish BITCH!! That’s NOT how it works!! Didn’t you promise me, all these Millennia ago?! That we would see this through together, come what may?! That you would never ignore me or shut me out?!“ I snort bitterly. „But, well, I suppose you broke that last promise a while ago. What’s one more, eh?!“
I swear I can hear her breath hitch in her throat. My heart clenches at the sound, but I soldier on. She NEEDS to hear this.
„And where did that lead us?! Oh, right: Besieged in our Palace by our own daughters and their sons that have fallen prey to our worst enemies, with all that’s left to do being a reckless assault on their Leader that could well get you killed!! An assault that I just NOW learned about from one of our older sons!! How could I forget that?!“
„Stop it!!“, she growls. „I…I have to-“
„You ALWAYS ‚have to‘!! And yet, you have never stopped considering if maybe you SHOULDN’T!! That would have saved us a lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?!“ I shake my head, glaring at her. „Maybe it’s time for you to finally get that obstinate head out of your golden laurels-“
„STOP IT!!“
„-and stop being the Empress of Mankind for a few fucking minutes-“
„S-stop it!“
„-so I can finally have a real fucking talk with the woman I fell in love with again-“
„S…stop…“ Her voice sounds almost pleading now, but I steel my heart and prepare the final blow.
„BEFORE I MIGHT LOSE HER FOREVER, JUST LIKE WE LOST OUR DAUGHTERS, YOU STUBBORN OLD WOMAN!!!“
I am panting heavily, finally feeling the hot tears running down my face. I didn‘t even realize that I have begun to cry…but, laying my wounded heart bare like this has brought up all the pain and suffering from the last few years all too strongly.
Slowly, hesitantly, she turns back around to face me. The Golden Halo framing her head has vanished, as had much of her glow…and her eyes, usually so regal and proud, are now brimming with tears, looking so ancient, tired and sad as they turn towards me.
The Mask that is the Empress of Mankind had crumbled away…and what remains is the woman I had learned to know and love, all those Millennia ago, when we first met at on shores of old Albion.
A woman so old, tired, weary and sad, so beaten down and wounded that I had begun to fear she was forever lost.
„I…I am sorry…“ Her voice is almost a whimper, carrying untold grief and regret as she collapses onto her bed, which nearly broke from the weight. „I am s-so sorry…I…I ruined everything…!“
She buries her face in her hands and begins to sob.
My heart clenches and I breathe out the last of my anger, relief flashing through my mind. I have gotten through to her, finally, for the first time in years.
Too late, I remind myself as sharp regret flashes through me. Far too late for far too many people…
But at least not entirely too late.
I sigh as I slowly walk up to and then sit down next to her. I reach up and gently place my hand on her armored arm.
„H-how…“ She finally whispers between sobs. „How did I screw this up so badly…? How did I let it come to this…?“
I sigh again. „…It was not entirely your fault“, I finally say. „The Game was rigged against us the moment the Four kidnapped them. The seeds were already sown. And…“ I look down, overwhelming regret in my heart. „And while you fucked up, it’s not like I have done too much better of a job...“
Images flash before my mind. Images of my…OUR daughters. Our darling little Girls and their significant others, our sons and daughters in law. Our greatest hope for Mankind and the Galaxy, our pride and joy. So many oft them now lost forever, through our enemies fault and our own hubris.
I remember giving my blessing Hathor‘s attack on the Interex to avenge her Moonbeam, thinking nothing more of it, only for her to emerge as the Chosen Warmaster of Chaos…
I remember trying and failing to convince my Empress to give Petra more meaningful assignments, Campaigns where she can truly show her worth and skills, only to let myself be convinced that she and the Iron Warriors were needed too badly in these grueling Sieges…
I remember trying to talk Aurelia out of her worship of her Mother, to stop spreading Cults to her service over the Worlds, only to fail miserably..and to fail even more miserably in comforting her after she lost her Little Light on Monarchia…her mother and I had not talked a while after that…
I remember chastising Alpharia and Omega for their reckless approach to collateral damage in their style of Warfare, chosing my words too harshly…
I remember coldly telling Alakhai that I do not approve of her significant other, getting into a loud shouting match over it…
I remember harshly rebuking Magnolia after Nicea, her reckless pursuit of Warp Knowledge pressing all the wrong buttons in me and, in my anger, making me compare her unfavorably to Lyanna and Mortia…
Next to me, she keeps crying, her shoulder trembling as years off suppressed guilt, regret and grief finally break through to the surface. „Our daughters…our sweet children…m-my fault…all my fault…!!“
Bitter guilt roils in my soul. „No“, I whisper quietly. „It was my fault, too. I…I wasn’t that good a parent, either…not to then, and not to our children in-law…“
...Where had we gone so wrong? We had raised children before! And not too badly, at that! So why had we now failed so miserably at keeping our Family together?!
…The answer is simple and bitter. Because we had severely overestimated our ability to be the parents they deserved while running an ever-expanding Empire of Conquest and balance between the two issues, especially since our daughters were vitally important Generals. Because we had trouble trusting people we didn’t know for a long time already, like Malcador, after Millennia of heartbreaks and betrayals. Not at all helped by the fact that we had been unable to bond with our daughters before they were taken from us as embryos.
But that is no excuse. The Lion’s share oft he blame falls on both our shoulders, and we know it. We had placed what we believed to be the needs of Mankind and the Imperium before our Family too many times…and now, we all had paid the price for this.
Oh, how the Four must be laughing at our foolishness…and, much as I HATE them for all they have done to us and our Family, I have to bitterly admit that they would be right to do so…
Still crying, she pulls me to her into a hug, which I gently return. Despite her towering over me, I had always felt the most comfortable with her when she was at this size.
…It provides a small measure of relief from the agonizing knowledge that a Number of our Children, now in service to those four fucking Cancer Tumors upon reality, are currently trying to breach into the Imperial Palace and destroy us, Mankind and all we have ever worked for. And the knowledge that some of our other children have already died at each others hands.
And now, my Empress would have to kill one more of our daughters to end this. Hathor, our best and brightest Girl, beloved and cherished, now our worst, most bitter enemy.
Our ultimate failure as Parents, laid bare.
„…I can never make up for what I have done“, my love finally says, her voice sad and resigned even as her tears still flow. „Not to them…and not to you. I am sorry…but I know that it changes nothing…“
I gently place a hand on her cheek. „…It does change one thing“, I say quietly. „That I know the woman I love is still there…“
„…I was not a good wife to you in these last years“, she whispers. „Almost as bad as I was a mother…“
I gently press my head against her. „…I forgive you“, I finally say.
She shakes her head. „I don’t deserve that…“
„Maybe not. But I forgive you, anyway.“ I look at her. „Just, please…promise me to never let your mask control you like this, again.“
She nods, burying her face in my shoulder. „I swear…I swear, I won’t…“
She is sincere. I can tell. I have known her too long not to.
„I didn’t want you to come here“, she says quietly. „I knew that if I saw you, I would crumble again…“
„Perhaps it was time for you to crumble“, I answer sadly. „To remind yourself that you are still human, at the core…not just the cold, calculating, uncaring Empress you had become…“
She tightens her hug, silence reigning for a few seconds. „…Thank you“, she finally whispers. „Thank you for…for snapping me out of this, one last time…“
Fear now rises within me. Despite knowing that this may be the last time I see her…I do not want to think about this. The idea of losing her forever after all we have been through…it is terrifying.
„…Please, don’t…don’t say that.“ Now it is I whose voice is shaking. „Our other daughters and children in-law…they still need you. The Imperium still needs you. I still need you! You…you will make it. You have been in tough spots before! You-“
She interrupts me, gently pressing her forehead against mine. „…If…if I don’t come back…promise me you’ll be there for them. For as long as you can. Please, my life…promise me you won’t give up. Promise me that you will be a better parent than I was…“
I swallow. „I…I promise.“ I finally whisper. And I mean it, as much as I desperately hope I will never have to face this future without her.
I try to calm myself. She will be fine. She will win…and after this War is over, we will finally make all the amends we can, save as many of our children as possible and finally, FINALLY do right by them…as they deserve, as we should have from the start!
We will!! We HAVE to!!
…I desperately cling onto this hope. The Alternatives…are too much to bare imagining.
She tightens her hug around me again as we sit there, quietly wishing that this last moment of quiet and calm, filled with regret and sorrow as it may be, would never end.
But it would. Soon. The Teleporters would be ready in mere Minutes.
Oh, how I wish I could accompany her onto the Vengeful Spirit, to confront our wayward daughter, perhaps, as I hoped foolishly, even save her…but I know that this is the one thing she will never allow. As a Psyker, I am powerful, but never as strong as Malcador, let alone her or any of our daughters. Chaos would not hesitate to kill me or worse aboard this tainted vessel and I can not afford to slow her down and make her waste time and energy protecting me.
And besides, if any Deamons make it through the defenses while she is gone, I will be needed to keep them from reaching the Throne.
I know that this, she would be adamant about, now more than ever. So I do not even try.
…It still causes an awful feeling in my gut, nonetheless, as we stay hugging each other for as long as we can, two foolish, flawed and weary parents, sharing in our grief, regret and sorrow over our destroyed family in these last moments before the Final Clash…
submitted by Alexander_Sturnn to PrimarchGFs [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 23:56 Ordinary_Fig1896 The Pale Groom

March 26th, 2024 11:27 p.m. – I think I've done it. I've made a breakthrough on the antisera. With a simple, two amino acid change in the protein, the antisera binds more effectively to the brains neuroreceptors. With an electrolyte injection, I can reactivate neurons in the brains of diseased rodents. I believe that it can work on human specimens up to 3 days old. If this works, then I will have found a way to effectively bring patients back from beyond the point of death. I cannot overstate the importance of this discovery. All I need is a cadaver that’s fresh enough to experiment with. The three-day threshold will pose a unique challenge in acquiring a specimen. It will require further thought before I am to go ahead.
March 29th, 2024 1:18 p.m. – I have spoken with the hospital and the Department of Anatomy and have found a family who are scheduled to take a loved one of theirs off critical care tomorrow afternoon. They have agreed to send him to my lab following a short grieving ceremony. I have their written approval, though I have made no guarantee of my success. I don't want to give them too much hope. Particularly the patient’s fiancé, who the patient had been on route to the chapel to wed, when his car was struck by an oncoming SUV that had missed a red light. I'm worried that she more than anyone doesn't realize how much of a long shot this is. But I'll do my best.
March 30th, 2024 8:12 p.m. – The body has arrived. I have him right here, laid out on my bench. He’s a young man, 24 years of age. He is 6’ 1” and weighs 174 pounds. Aside from some exposed tissue above his right eye, and a fracture along the parietal skull, the head remains entirely intact. There is concern that any intracranial bleeding may interfere with the electrolyte solution. I don’t expect the antisera to revive him completely, but as long as there is some measure of brain activity now, six hours after he was pronounced dead, then I think this test can still be labelled a success.
March 30th, 2024 8:36 p.m. – I have administered 20mg of the antisera, and after a twenty-minute wait, have just administered an equal dose of the electrolyte solution. I noticed an immediate spike in brain activity in his parietal lobe. There was no movement from the patient, but after five minutes, I noticed a faint flutter in his eyelids. Talking in his ear shows a proportionate response in the auditory cortex. The brain is capable of taking in external input.
March 30th, 2024 9:00 p.m. – His eyes are open. At the present, they're only looking forward. He hasn’t yet glanced to look around the room, but his eyes are piercing in their focus, as if he’s processing more than just his initial surroundings. His pupils are an opaque white… what may be due to cataracts from damage to his ocular nerve from the incident.
March 30th, 2024, 9:08 p.m. – There’s movement. His fingers have started to jitter. They're feeling the cuffs of his coat. He still has on the black tuxedo he had wore to his wedding day. His head occasionally spasms, as though just now regaining feeling. Heartrate is 33 beats per minute. His hands have begun moving more noticeably up and down the sides of his body. He’s feeling his buttons, the flower of his lapel, and now the titanium top of the bench. It’s really quite remarkable. I’ve not detected even a flicker of movement in his moth-eaten eyes. He has not blinked since awakening.
March 30th, 2024, 9:12 p.m. He’s trying to stand. There are straps in place, but they're only loosely attached. They snap off with disappointing ease. Perhaps I should've been more optimistic and sprung for the thicker straps. There is a noise that he’s making... a low groaning, as though he is in pain or incapable of making more complex a sound.
March 30th, 2024, 9:14 p.m. I’ve tried speaking with him. I called him by his name. He doesn't respond. He’s now seated on the edge of the table. He’s breathing heavily, his chest noticeably rising and falling. A reflex test shows no response at all.
March 30th, 2024, 9:18 p.m. I’ve tried introducing myself. There’s no sign that he understands. He is still. I don’t know if he’s listening or if he’s even aware, but I think the sound of another person is at least calming for him.
March 30th, 2024, 10:25 p.m. Little has happened. The groom is much the same as he was an hour ago. I’ve taken photos of everything that I’ve observed tonight, but when I left the room to get the camera, I returned to find him standing in the corner of the room. At times, he'll stagger forward a step or two, or slouch against the wall. Always his head is down, his open mouth dripping drool on the floor while he stares ahead as if in a trance. I want to observe him for the night to see how he progresses. I am now seated at the desk in my office, which has a view of the lab from a large window. For the time being I will start recording my findings, but I will look often in case anything of interest happens.
March 30th 2024, 11:06 p.m. I am alerted by a loud crash. The patient has stumbled into a small table with scalpels, knocking them onto the linoleum floor with a clatter. His groaning now is louder now than before. I can hear it as clear as day through my window. It’s a deeply labored noise, creaking with every syllable as though his throat is severely dry.
March 30th, 11: 44 p.m. After completing my preliminary reports, I tried speaking with the patient, hoping that perhaps he could understand me. I explained the situation as simply as I could. I mentioned his wedding, the accident, and the agreement with his family. I went into detail about his operation. His pale eyes were watching me throughout, but there is no sign of any understanding in them. Still, at least he’s attentive. I might be naive for trying, but there's always a chance that he could be understand more than he seems.
March 31st, 12:01 a.m. There is a wailing from inside the room. A horrible, hair-raising cry that has me standing upright from my monitor the sound that I hear it. The noise persists, as if all he wants to hear is the sound of his own misery. He is moving erratically, lurching through the lab. He's knocked over the fire extinguisher, and, just now, the hospital gurney as well. There is no emotion in his face as he makes the most pitiful noises imaginable. I hope that I am not letting my own feelings cloud my judgment when I say that it sounds as though he is feeling a profound sorrow. His limbs flap loosely beside him, as though he still lacks the motor function to control them.
March 31st, 12:10 a.m. The groaning hasn't stopped. Any request for him to quiet down goes unheard. I’m reminded of a child feeling grief for the first time and not knowing what else to do with it than to cry as deeply as they can. Out of a grown man, the noise becomes chilling. It's much deeper and gruffer, like the cry of a wounded animal.
March 31st, 12:22 a.m. I have something I want to try. I've called his fiancé. She had expressed a great deal of interest in the success of the experiment when I met with her at the hospital, and when I explained on the phone to her what had happened to her fiancé, she agreed that she, more than anyone, could get through to him. I’ve called her a taxi and am waiting now on her arrival. It has been twenty minutes since the groom started to wail and he's still going. He stumbles into the wall from time to time and I am worried that he will only act more unpredictably as the drug continues to work.
March 31st, 12:35 a.m. The widow's taxi has arrived. I escorted her down to the laboratory. Behind the safety of the window, she is now looking at her husband for the first time since his recovery. She is noticeably shocked by his appearance. She looks like she might faint from the sight of him, but I can see also a hopefulness in her eyes that keeps her rooted in place. She sees as well as I do that he’s a great deal closer to what he was now than when he was lying unconscious on the hospital bed. She agrees to help when I ask her, though she only nods her response. Her eyes haven’t left her fiancés since the moment she's arrived.
March 31st, 12:41 a.m. We called to him, and the groom responded. He shambled up to the glass to where his bride was standing. He had stopped wailing. I watched his cataracts-riddled eyes stare at her with a dead, unwavering look. I’m not sure what’ was in them or what the man was thinking as he looked at the love of his life. But the response in the bride was profound. She was speechless, her hand trembling as she placed her fingers against the glass. The groom appeared not to have noticed the hand, his stare as focused as ever as he gazed intently into her eyes.
March 31st, 12:43 a.m. The bride has asked if she can go inside. I warned her against it, and when she insisted again, I raised my voice to make the point all the more clear. Whatever she saw in the dead man’s eyes was not her husband looking back. I think she’s blinded herself with nostalgia. The fact that she sees something of the old him in his eyes is just because she wanted there to be something of the old him still there. But when I look into those moth-eaten eyes, I see just the unaware, unresponsive look of an animal looking back at me. But she was adamant, and though I tried to hold her back, she still managed to force her way past me. She opened the door before I could stop her, and I watched in horror as she stepped out into the laboratory.
The groom had turned to face her. A low, raspy groan creaked from him. The two stood a meter apart, both looking into each other’s eyes. There was a bottle of sedative on my shelf. In this time, I took it, and drew a needle with one eye as I watched with the other at what was transpiring outside.
She took a step closer. She was practically standing beneath him. His breaths I noticed were ragged, panting into her forehead like a large dog. Pale, clammy fingers wrapped around her arms, and he drew her in. It was the first time I’ve seen him use his hands with any amount of purpose.
She didn’t struggle at first, and I could see that he was panting more heavily now, as though with excitement. She looked up at him, and him, down at her. His mouth hung slacked, occasionally stuttering or dripping droplets of saliva on her shoulder. But she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were half open, and she raised her head a bit to nuzzle his cheek with her nose. I could see that the groom had become still as he took in this newest sensation.
And then, with a noticeable breath, the bride pulled his head down and put his lips to hers. The groom’s groaning returned, but it was quieter and a higher pitch, more of a sing-song kind of noise. He pushed his lips against hers. His jaw slacked and his mouth poured over her mouth. I could see the shift from romance to disgust as she tried to push him off her. It was then that I heard the scream. It was muffled by the groom’s mouth over hers, and I could see that blood was starting to stream from her cheeks. His entire weight collapsed upon her, and the two crumbled to the floor as I bolted for the door. When I got in, I saw her flailing on the ground with the groom still at her face, a horrible slobbering sound slipping out from beneath the hysteric screams.
I plunged my syringe into his shoulder blade and administered the sedative. He hardly noticed. I waited a minute and then two for the effects to take hold, and all the while I had no choice but to listen to the shrieks of the woman, with not a thing I could do to help in the meantime.
March 31th, 12:58 a.m. The drug has finally taken effect, but the woman shows no signs of life. It wasn’t my first thought, but I fear for my research and the possibility of a civil lawsuit. Tomorrow morning I’ll tell the family that the experiment was a failure and ask if I can keep the groom’s body a little while longer in hopes that I can one day revive him. I think they are still hopeful enough to say yes. I will say nothing of the bride or the arrangement that we had made for her to come here tonight.
April 8th, 6:31 p.m. It’s been a week since the horrible events of March the 30th. The groom appears pleased with the latest results. I’m happy that he’s finally done with his infernal moaning. The bride is conscious and seems to have taken warmly to him. It’s a shame I couldn’t do something more about the face, but at least it doesn’t seem to bother them.
submitted by Ordinary_Fig1896 to Horror_stories [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 21:48 offairarcade What to do in San Jose: 5/15 thru 5/19

Hey hey! Here are some fun things that are happening around town this week:

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Thanks so much for reading!

You can get this entire post emailed to you each week in my newsletter.

But hold on, aren’t there other newsletters in San Jose???

Yep! And those are all super groovy! My newsletter is primarily a place for me to compile a curated list of things happening all over town, not just in the downtown spaces. There are small, DIY shows almost every day, and they generally don’t have a budget or the know how to promote themselves on platforms where you’re going to see. I’m pretty closely connected with a lot of the folks who organize these events (and have even helped organize many myself!) I occasionally include interviews with locals, newsy bits, and other things as they pop into my brain. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this post, and I hope it helped you find something to do this week. 🙂
submitted by offairarcade to SanJose [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 21:08 throw_inthehay together we are free!

hi, i'm new here, but really i've shared a lot with the g0y life and beliefs for my whole life. i grew up in a town where they were deeply confused; if you touched a volleyball, or wore shorts that were actually short, you were "gay," and that became stricter and stricter, men didn't even get nude in the showers!, men would joke all day grabbing each other's dicks (through the clothes), but if a male even showed one ounce of vulnerability, 98% of the time it was a "faggot!" name-calling, inner heart judging, reaction.
in many aspects this actually started at like age 6!, even though we were not even sexual yet. how could something be gay to do if it was impossible for me to even be gay? how can being cooperative instead of violent be gay? how can having strength but not wanting to play sports be gay?? it's all a lie, and all during single digit age, like 7, 8, 9!! and by the post-puberty times there was grabbing of each other, a boy shoving another boy's head into his clothed penis, and all other kinds of "joking" or whatever you want to call it, but if you did it just to feel your friend, there was an immediate hatred reaction.
we wanted to do homie things with each other but we thought it meant you had to replace the woman with the man (anal sex, pretend marriage). that's anti-us, because it's anti-our creator. he/she made us, and that's biblical!
later when i was college-aged, things weren't that great, still the thought of friends falling into each other and taking our pants off, kissing and grabbing dicks, loving each other and letting a friend fill your mouth up with his penis, filling you up with himself, and you filling him up with your penis, fully hard,, it happened. it was still something that was hazy and obscured by gay, boyfriendish lies. still i was able to do some bro things, or they may have been a melted mix of bro and bad, even though there was no anal sex. but some of the things we did together still ring in my mind, many years later (i'm not old, but i'm not college-age anymore). i love them, i moved away, i seek the lord wherever he leads me, but what we did was so minimal. it only happened a few times and me and my best friends (i've had three or four of them at various stages) never ever did a single thing like this. i'm like a wildebeast who only gets droplets of water and runs around his whole life (so far! today's a new day!) dying of thirst. help this be the last day of thirst! no more caught between conservative and liberal. give me right and righteous male-male. yeh-shua! thank you for listening. please reach out.
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2024.05.15 20:53 sookfong A Week In Vancouver Island on a $92,000 Salary (Original Submission)

Please note this is the original submission I sent Refinery29. In the current post,they have given me a second credit card with a 100$ balance, as well as generational trauma from World War II and cut context for other things. I am trying to get that fixed.
Per previous discussion in comments here: The espresso machine is a Bezzera, which ranges from 2-5K. We got ours on sale for 1.7K, it’s a work house and we use it everyday, still hurts that we spent that money on a coffee maker.
I do understand mortgage is debt but when you compare it to rent to a lesser value condo in Vancouver it feels like not debt at all, which is how I tend to think of it. Yes I owe my mortgage but also I get my house instead of renting-which may not have become clear.
Please see in full the diary, below (edit for formatting via mobile)
Occupation: Sr Business Analyst
Industry: Tech
Age: 30
Location: Vancouver Island, BC
Salary: 92,000$ (Spouse makes 60,000$ for a combined income of 152,000$ before tax)
Net Worth: ~ 1.2 Million ( house is valued at 989,000$ currently, we have a combined 150,000 in pension, and ~60,000 in various company stocks, and GICs)
Debt: 3,000$ in a zero interest credit card for a 10 month period. We balanced transferred and pay 400$/month. Debt was acquired in Q4 2023 when we had to buy Snow Tires, and do a full break replacement as well as Christmas. 480,000$ in a mortgage, we refinanced in September 2023 for five years fixed rate at accelerated biweekly, however I don’t consider our mortgage debt due to the equity we are gaining, and that our mortgage for a five bedroom, 3 bath single family home is less than rent for a two bedroom condo in Vancouver
Paycheck Amount (Every 2 Weeks): 2,555$ after taxes. (Just mine). Spouse makes 2,308$ after taxes. Our pay periods are alternating.
Pronouns: She/her
Monthly Expenses Mortgage: 1450$ biweekly (100$ extra to the principal).
Utilities: ~200$ (includes water [paid quarterly], hydro [paid bimonthly], gas, sewetrash [paid quarterly] phone [highly discounted due to work plans for spouse and myself] and car gas) Loan Payments: 400$/Credit Card
Car Insurance: 84$
Life Insurance: 167$ combined (67$ me, 100$ spouse)
Health & Dental Insurance: 60$ deducted from pay (coverage for myself and spouse from my employer. Spouse also has coverage for both of us deducted from pay)
Retirement Contribution: 400$ (Employee matches me), (Spouse has a defined pension through work and contributes ~200$ month)
Union fees: 70$ Spouse
Subscriptions: Crave 22$/month (Recent splurge for Binge watching the Rookie), Playstation Plus 100$ (annual bought on Black Friday Deal), Amazon Prime 80$ (Annual), BCAA 120$ (annual) Gym 30$/month (we both have one so 15$/pp)
Note: My spouse and I have completely commingled finances. I will be tracking both as it’s essentially I spent whatever they spent
Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
There was always the expectation. My father was very clear, we were very smart. There was no way we’d be wasting our potential. He wanted me to be a lawyer, but unlike other immigrant parents, I got to choose my major and went into social sciences and got my masters in history. I deferred my PhD too much so I got dropped by the program.
I chose my university by where I got a full first year scholarship and then after that took about 15k in student loans for my undergraduate. My parents paid my rent and I got a part time job for food.
For my masters, I had a student line of credit and 5 k student loans otherwise it was all my savings and scholarships. With the line of credit, I had a total of 30K in student loans and paid it off in about four years.
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
Save. We talked about how you get a dollar allowance and half of it goes into long term saving with 25% in short term and 25% in spend.
Investing came after I was eighteen. Family would like us to invest in property, however I don’t really want to be a landlord, but also we wouldn’t get to really enjoy profit of owning a rental property due to other family circumstances.
What was your first job and why did you get it?
Ice cream parlour I was twelve and my parents made me get it for responsibility. I lasted three weeks because I hated it.
Did you worry about money growing up?
I grew up thinking we were not rich, because we didn’t get big plane vacations (I didn’t count flying from Toronto to Vancouver every summer as a vacation since we were just seeing family but staying in a house my parents owned) and I had only been to Disney twice.
But we had a big new build house in the rich end of town, my mom stayed home to raise all of us. We had to work for things (like going to see a movie opening night or a new CD) but we always had money and got what we wanted. In retrospect, my family was/is fairly well off.
Both my parents grew up poor, with parents working multiple jobs and different shifts to make ends meet, the strive/drive to not have that childhood, and for my father to be able to retire his parents really impacted mine and my siblings and cousins lives. My father showed me the apartment he grew up in Chinatown a few years back. It’s light years away from the house my grandparents owned when I was a kid and how I grew up.
Do you worry about money now?
Of course. Inflation is real and we are actively planning a wedding for the next year, as well as a baby in the next few years. We also need to buy a second car, so we’re saving for that.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
Fully financially responsible? Twenty five. I lived in a family property where I didn’t pay rent in one of the most expensive cities in Canada, so even though I paid all my bills (food and phone), I didn’t have to pay rent. I in fact made money, as I rented rooms out and used the income for house utilities, and paying my student loans down faster. When I moved in with my spouse, I just paid condo fees until we bought our house two years ago which gave me plenty of time to save.
Our financial safety net is family, and our savings. I know my family would bail us out. My spouse’s father would as well. Conversely, we are my spouse’s mother's safety net and we have to keep all our plans in mind that we will be subsidising her.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. Yes, I received 50K from my parents once they sold my childhood home, as did both of my siblings. I have also received 10K from one set of grandparents which paid off my car and part of my student loans when I was 21. I will be receiving another inheritance when probate is done for around ~100K. My spouse also has received inheritance which allowed them to buy their first condo in their early twenties when the market was much better. That condo, 50k, and the subsequent upgrading helped us afford our house.
Day 1
10 AM: I drive to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Not how I want to start my Sunday morning but y’know. Normally I’d walk since it’s about 20 minutes but I have a UTI. I’m “lucky” that despite not having a dr because of the health care shortage, my work pays for the Maple app so I could get a dr to write the prescription and order the lab work at 1 am. I’ll do the lab work later this week when I can get an appointment but will take the relief now. Insurance makes the antibiotics free, but I also buy hydrogen peroxide because we’re out and we have a dog that thinks everything is meant to be in her mouth. We’ll buy a bigger one at Costco later. I also bought some oral wound mouthwash because we were out. I come home and my spouse made us breakfast.
Total: 15.90$ paid with debit.
1-2:30 PM: We do our taxes. I have a mini meltdown when I realize the part time bakery job I had for a few months didn’t take off income tax last year, so I owe 800$. Luckily, my partner is getting a refund so we net out positive 400$. The bakery took off income tax in 2022, so unsure why they didn’t in 2023. I made us lunch.
3-6:30 PM: We walk the dog, and watch the Rookie. Some time during that time period, a venue emails us back and is surprisingly affordable at 3k. I also get told that the tattoo artist I want to book with, has not chosen me.
6:30-7:30 PM: I explain what lazy girl dinner is to my spouse and make a lazy girl dinner. After not really grocery shopping since Feb for things besides fresh veg, we need to do a big pantry shop and neither of us want that. We debate about buying a food saver and if we should wait for a sale. My spouse is more frugal than me and has determined we should.
8-9:30 PM: We start season 3 of The Rookie, and then after two episodes we go to bed
Day One Total: 15.90$
Day Two
5:45-8 AM: Wake up and start work. I get up to date with what’s happened on the weekend and check that my automated reports. Sometime before 6:30, I get the kettle on for my spouse’s pour over before I go back to my meetings. There’s a twenty minute gap where I get changed and do my skin care and brush my teeth. I’d love to be a skin care person but honestly I’ve spent too much money on product that I don’t use and that just goes bad. Washing my face and using sun screen is a win.
I also make sure that Spouse’s lunch is in his bag and I get our travel mugs ready. Before, we used to go to Starbucks every day. Starbucks used to do free refills on coffee and tea if you were a rewards member if you bought a coffee or tea so it would cost us $5/day (2.5/pp), and we could get refills all day. While that’s 20$/week, 80$/a month and yes, we could have saved it but back then, that 80$ wasn’t turning the dial anywhere significantly for us—a privileged view.
But now, after COVID where I stopped drinking tea after one day working from home having like 10 cups and thinking I was dying, and Spouse has bought a good grinder and we recently splurged on a stupidly expensive espresso machine we call his Engagement Espresso since it costs the same price as my stupidly expensive ring, we bring our coffees.
8-8:30 AM: We drive to work. Prior to buying our house, we were both work from home and lived in a city with amazing transit. We only needed the one car. Since buying the house and moving to a city where public transit is a joke (the one bus goes past our house every 1.5h), Spouse changed jobs and is in office every day and I have to go in 3 days a week. We need a second car or the e-bike rebate to come through. We debate this in the car, since I’m done at 1 pm, and Spouse works normal hours, I either have to take the bus home, or go to the gym for three hours. Today though, I drop Spouse off. I will pick him up later as he has a half day because of the dentist
8:30-12:30 AM/PM: Work. I find a tech manager and ask them to get me more triple a batteries. Work won’t provide or let me expense batteries for my mouse, despite them replacing my usb mouse with a battery one. The poor admin had to tell me the decision is that we’ll all supply our own batteries. Luckily the tech managers have to have batteries on hand and give them out freely.
I ask my boss how the work from home tax forms work, and he is going to find out.
I run more meetings and work on a request for a dashboard and a business case for a new feature that I have to convince leadership to spend money on.
12:30-1 PM: I drive back to my Spouse because he has a dentist appointment.
While I wait for a spouse, I am incredibly hungry. I’m usually not hungry/don’t eat a proper meal until around 1 in the afternoon and my two granola bars I already ate at the office. I go to the bakery by Spouse’s work and buy a cheese bun for me (3.65$), and an apple pie scone (2.55$) for Spouse as a snack. Spouse points out he won’t be able to eat until after his appointment.
Total: 6.20$ debit
1-1:30 PM: I drop Spouse off, and the car stops working. The engine won’t catch. I try multiple times and then run into the dentist to dramatically announce to Spouse and the receptionists that the car won’t start. Spouse asks me what he wants me to do about this, since he’s about to go into an appointment. A very kind receptionist tells me it might be the alternator. I don’t know what that is.
I go back to the car to Facetime my father. He also asks what I think he can do to help since he lives 3000 km away. Weirdly, and sexistly, I thought a man who grew up at race tracks, in a racing family, or the man who has collected and worked on sports cars for forty years might be able to help.
Spouse texts me to remind me we have BCAA while my father also tells me that. I finally get the engine to catch and drive the very long way home, going the speed limit and getting stuck in traffic, construction and a bus. It takes me 20 minutes to get home instead of 10.
1:30-2:30 PM: I walk the dog, mail a (late) birthday card and then start researching what an alternator is. The car is over a decade old and until the house, the most expensive thing I ever bought at 12K back in 2015. We have the funds for the cost, but it’s my first car and the fact it might be the end of its life is scary.
Alternators can cost between 400-800$ repair with labour, so that’s fun.
My dad calls me back and apologises for asking me what he could do away. He advises me that there’s probably a bald spot on the alternator and advises me to go to the mechanic to check or replace it, if the car doesn’t start again.
I call the mechanic to book an appointment, and to also get the snow tires off and to buy new rims for the snow tires. The mechanic lets me know that the alternator part is 500$, and an hour of labour so with taxes we’re looking at around 700$
That future appointment next week (we’re going down a highway this weekend which requires snow tires) will cost ~1.5K, assuming we replace the alternator.
I make lunch and sigh.
2:30 PM: The car starts thankfully. I drive incredibly slow. I pick up Spouse by idling the car. We get an email back from a venue saying they cost 75,000$ minimum. The timing is hysterical.
Due to the nature of the dentist, Spouse owes 618$, as they haven’t flipped it under my insurance. They split it in half, as he has a follow up in two weeks. After the next appointment they will flip the whole amount under me and we’ll get reimbursed for the whole amount.
Total 309$/credit card.
3-10 PM: We walk the dog, make dinner (Spouse makes white sauce pasta, with chicken and peas) and watch The Rookie. There are thirteen episodes in season three, and we will be busy every night this week besides Friday and Sunday, and I would like to finish season three so we can start season 4 next Monday. I don’t want to pay for more than one month of Crave. We have five episodes left
Day Two Total: 315.2$
Day Three
1 AM: 100$ is automatically transferred from our account to the credit card debit. We have an auto transfer of 100$/every Tuesday to a Visa where we balance transferred both our cards. We have an offer for 0 interest for 10 months, so we did that for some of the bigger expenses (snow tires, break replacement and general Christmas) and are on track to pay it back within the next 6 months. That visa is our emergency card that we just have in the back end and utilise for promos like this. It allows us to keep our two cards balances manageable and lets us pay in an easier way than taking big chunks out of our various savings.
Total: 100$/direct deposit
5:45-9 AM: Work. Meetings, reports, trying to convince a colleague that the process does include them and refusal to follow it means that their requests won’t be done. Spouse has another half day so I can go into the office at my leisure—if the car starts
9-9:20 AM: The car starts, I get into the office and refresh a data flow before a meeting with a new stake holder. It takes longer to drive into work today because the tourists are starting to come and their van builds or campers are not exactly highway speed and with a two lane highway, if you don’t merge over fast enough you’re stuck.
10:05-10:20 AM: Meeting done, car starts again and I drive home for more meetings. The least amount of time in the office is preferable for me.
10:30-11AM : Meeting with my manager where we discuss future salary and promotion. I am due for a promotion in the start of Q2, which would push me to six figures. I’ll believe it when I see it but, I’m really excited at that possibility for my family.
11:15 AM: Spouse leaves for work, we discuss what groceries are needed, as well if he’ll go to Home Depot tonight to buy more clover seeds for the yard, as we need to reseed before it starts raining. I eat a muffin and my dog and cat decide to try and eat each other.
11:15-1:30 PM: Work runs late. There’s some issues with the data and we can’t figure it out. We call it a night, and I’ll record the video presentations tomorrow, once we fix the data.
1:30-4 PM: Nap time! It’s bad for me, but honestly I don’t sleep well during the night so naps are what keep me alive.
4-6 PM I prep dinner (smash burgers and fries), and get chores done and walk the dog.
6-7:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we eat dinner. Groceries come to 96.83 for two 7 pound pork loins, two packs of bacon, chicken nuggets, coffee, pop, 8 pack of peppers, milk, tomato, pickles, rice, avocado, mushrooms, sour cream and lettuce.
Not too bad, we average about 300$/month in groceries because we can buy bulk and have a second freezer.
For the month of March we are currently at 123.61$ for groceries and there is twelve days left. We went on a small weekend away, so we ate out a fair bit but even then our current food budget is 272.27$ today.
Total: 96.83/ debit
7:30-10 PM: Spouse makes a coffee and plays video games with his friends. They do it every week. I have a shower, fold and put away laundry and read in bed.
Day Three Total: 196.83
Day Four
1AM: Our biweekly accelerated mortgage payment comes out of 1450$. I’m tracking it here to be honest on our spending but I tend not to think of it as money spent because in my head it’s already money gone. To pay for a house equivalent in Vancouver, the mortgage would be over 6k. Renting a two bedroom condo would be 3K. It feels like the mortgage is just cheaper rent, even though each time I own more of my house.
5:45-9 AM: Work. I find out the limits of how many people I can invite to a Teams Meeting as well as that the Thursday before Good Friday is a catholic holiday when a few people ask me to reschedule a training forum for over a thousand people. Sometime in there I make us coffee, make sure Spouse has lunch packed (leftovers). Spouse has walked the dog and has the recycling and compost out for pick up. I drop Spouse off at work.
10-11:45 AM: I leave the office for home and more meetings. I walk the dog and go record training videos. I get an email that Amazon is doing their big spring sale. I send a link to a robot mop and vaccum that’s on a big discount to Spouse. We want one, but I’m not in charge of the research on it. I send links to play grounds to my friends with toddlers
11:45-12:30 PM : I shove lunch in my mouth, last night’s left overs. I’m running late, and decide to get myself later by collecting all the random dishes and mugs that just show up places and start the dishwasher. I get to the lab ten minutes early but need to buy gas on the way home.
I tell my team I’ll be MIA for a bit and leave the work phone in the car.
I buy 15.6L of gas for 30$ at 1.879/l it sucks. I don’t fill up because we’re going to my in laws this weekend and there’s a Costco Gas Bar there.
Total: 30$/credit card
12:30-1:30 PM: Work goes long again.
1:30-2:30 PM: Nap!
2:30-4:30 PM: Walk the dog and drive to the gym. I usually go three times a week but with last week’s weekend away and this week’s weird half days from Spouse, today’s the only day. I make it up by doing both upper and lower body and a 30 minute circuit.
4:30-7:30 PM: I pick up Spouse and we go to Costco. We pick up nachos, ham, cheese buns and some other items. We debate buying our friend’s kid a toddler set of clothes and decide no. We end up buying work pants for Spouse, and a garden hose. It comes out to 116.90
I order our Costco dinner of hot dogs and fries for a grand total date night of 6.41$
Total: 123.31/ credit card
8-9 PM: Dance class! We bought a series of six lessons of introduction to ballroom back in December for a new date night idea. We paid 60$/pp and this is the fifth lesson tonight.
9 pm: We’re home, we let the dog out. Spouse spends an undetermined amount of time watching ballroom videos while I sleep.
Day Four Total: 1603.31$ or 153.31 excluding the mortgage payment.
Day Five
5:45-9 AM: Work. All the meetings. Thursday is the meeting day. I debate with a friend what’s the earliest call we’ve had. 4:30 am still wins. I pack lunch for Spouse and his coffee and he leaves. I end up cleaning up cat puke as the cat decides to drink milk from Spouse’s cereal and vomit it up on camera in a meeting.
9-9:30 AM: I make myself a matcha and walk the dog.
9:30-1 PM: Work and I treat myself to a lunch of a cheese bun and ham sandwhich. We used to eat it every Sunday while growing up but the cost of ham has been outrageous. The deal at Costco yesterday was 1.5$/100 g which is really good.
1-1:30 PM: I seal the wooden deer Christmas decoration we bought last year. It sits outside our front door and needs to be weather proofed, and I’ve been putting it off for five months. But the weather is good and we have newspapers. We have left over wood sealer after the sign we bought a year ago so I use that. The dog and the cat both don’t like my wooden deer.
1:30-4 PM: Nap!
4-5 PM: I basically just watch youtube and drink a root beer. I have no energy.
5-6:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog and I make dinner (Kraft Dinner and nuggets–I swear we eat veggies but today is not that day). We discuss the possibility of our dog at our wedding as a flower girl, and if she’ll be in a tutu or a cheongsam like me. I am now researching if they make dog cheongsams and if she can match us. The cat, despite all my heart wanting it, won’t physically be there because he will have an anxiety attack and probably die.
6:30-10:30 PM: Board game night! We go to a friend’s to repeat the same scenario we’ve lost two weeks in a row.
10:30-11 PM: I pack Spouse’s breakfast (oatmeal and frozen berries), lunch (spicy tuna and mayo) since he’s trying to go to the gym before work, and feed the animals before we go to bed.
Day Five Total: 0$
Day Six Friday
5:45-9 AM: Work. I have a deep focus block which means I can get the script for the training I have to run. Public speaking is not my strong suit and it’s a group of a thousand people so I’m not looking forward to it. Spouse almost makes it to the gym. I get an email that my new work phone has shipped. I’m surprised because they wouldn’t order us any for the past four years, but I guess my new iPhone will show up next week. I might give my old work phone to my mother in law, since she smashed the camera on the phone we bought her last year.
9-9:30 AM: I walk the dog, make a matcha and make a todo list for what we have to get done before we leave to my in laws tomorrow. I text my mother in law happy birthday, and hope that she got the card in time. She did.
9:30-11:30 AM: My last meeting for the week ends and I’m debating calling it a day so I can nap. Instead I make lunch (cheese bun and ham), text my other mother in law our plan for Saturday, and unload and reload the dishwasher and go back to work for at least another hour.
12:30-1 PM: I shower and do skin care
1-3 PM: Nap! Somewhere in this time FedEx comes and since I’m sleeping, we have to pick up on Monday. I’m not too sure what it is, I assume it’s our custom address stamp from Etsy because that’s the only thing I’ve bought recently but not too sure. I just realized in retrospect, this might be my new work phone.
3-5 PM: I prep dinner (nachos), unload the dishwasher, pack my overnight bag and confirm all our venue tours by email. I start a load of laundry and do a quick clean. I feel like this is not the best image of our diet. I swear we generally eat healthy but we both have been feeling really blah over the past two weeks so have been going for quick and easy over healthy and balanced. I do have three whole peppers and two whole avocados in the nachos though.
5-7 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog, have dinner, and plan out next week. We have a big Wednesday next week (mechanic, I have a nails appointment, dance class), and we are having our friends over for Easter so we need to prep for that. We pack the car so tomorrow is a very easy start.
Spouse also gets paid today. We’re lucky that we’re on alternating pay periods, we used to be on the same and it always felt stressful. Spouse also lets me know his union has secured a 3% cost of living raise to start in Q3. I really like his union for negotiating a base 2% year of cost of living raise, with potential addition raises depending on inflation. It’s a bit away but that’s still good news.
7:30-10:30 PM: We finish The Rookie Season 3 and head to bed. Crave reminds me that I have 10 days until I’m charged again. Sadly, I think we’ll have to pay for 2 months.
Day Six Total: 0
Day Seven Saturday
8:30-9:30 AM: Wake up. No one (except the dog) slept well so we’re not in a morning mood. Spouse makes coffee and walks the dog, while I finish packing the car and give the cat a lot of attention. Our first venue tour is at 11 and the one that is the most expensive (8-10K), but also the one we probably want the most. We live about an hour away but the highway is two lanes and one accident can back everything up for hours.
10:40-1 PM: We visit our dream venue. We stay way longer than expected. Basically if the quote is under 10K, we’ll get it. Just waiting now.
1-2 PM: We get to our in-laws and have a lunch of egg salad sandwhichs. We need to buy gas. My in laws drive us to a pottery painting store.
2-4 PM: We paint pottery. My mother in law only wanted to do this for her birthday. They’ll pick it up in a week after it’s been thrown. I paint a vase (28$), Spouse paints an Easter egg (18$), father in law paints a mug (30$), and mother in law paints a plate (50$)
Total:143.36/credit card
4-5 Pm: We see another venue. It’s an instant no. My in laws decide they want to try Korean fried chicken. We call ahead for take out to get two fries and 16 pieces of half and half. It comes to 50.83$ that my in laws pay for.
5-10 PM: We come back and see that our dog has pooped in their house and also has gotten into their pantry and eaten an entire bag of dog food. It is not a fun night.
We spend the night drinking wine and discussing the wedding and watching TV.
10PM: We go to bed. That’s the end of this week, but tomorrow we will be buying gas and probably lunch for my other mother in law as we will be touring another venue.
Day Seven Total: 143.36$
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2024.05.15 20:23 thefiddle2hisfaddle 5yr old being bullied by older kids on bus.

Hello, I have a 5-year-old boy who has been getting bullied I believe by a third and fourth gradover the course of the last couple months my son has started to have more aggressive behavior at recess but not in the classroom and has also reported that these boys have punched him which they have on camera and then also recently claimed that 1 of the boys pulled his pants down and punched him in the privates and also told them they were going to murder him. I don't believe a 5-year-old could come up with a story like that, And I feel afraid for my son to ride the bus or go to school and the school keeps making me feel like I have a problem child as I believe he is suffering from stress and trauma from what these Boys have done to him. I think he is regressing in his behaviors at school to feel some sense of control because he sees how those boys treat him and I believe he is suffering. he has started to pee and poop his pants again which he is fully potty trained. again I feel like the school is making my kid to be a bad one because he's starting to have behaviors when he was never like this before the bullying started now the school is also asking me to get my son clinically assessed for his behaviors He has never liked us at home ever. And when he hits back cause the older boys taunt him he gets in trouble not them. My son is so sweet, but these aggressive behaviors at recess are starting to affect his relationship with his teachers and I ha e constant anxiety while he's at school
submitted by thefiddle2hisfaddle to Parents [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:20 thefiddle2hisfaddle 5yr old being bullied by older kids on bus.

Hello, I have a 5-year-old boy who has been getting bullied I believe by a third and fourth gradover the course of the last couple months my son has started to have more aggressive behavior at recess but not in the classroom and has also reported that these boys have punched him which they have on camera and then also recently claimed that 1 of the boys pulled his pants on and punched him in the privates and also told them they were going to murder him I don't believe a 5-year-old could come up with a story like that And I feel afraid for my son to ride the bus or go to school and the school keeps making me feel like I have a problem child as I believe he is suffering from stress and trauma from what these Boys have done to him I think he is regressing in his behaviors at school to feel some sense of control because he sees how those boys treat him and I believe he is suffering he has started to pee and poop his pants again which he is fully potty trained again I feel like the school is making my kid to be a bad one because he's starting to have behaviors when he was never like this before the bullying started now the school is also asking me to get my son clinically assessed for his behaviors He has never liked us at home ever
submitted by thefiddle2hisfaddle to Parents [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 19:50 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 3)

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?
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2024.05.15 17:54 ThePupperinos Trouble with 3 yo pooping

My 3 yo has been pee trained for over a year, but consistently leaves streaks in her panties and waits until her nap time or night time to go in her pull up. I feel like I’m going crazy!
She has successfully pooped about 5 times in the last year on the potty, three of those within the last month or so. We thought we were on the right track with her pooping in a pull up with a hole cut in it on the potty but now we’re back to square one with her leaving streaks in her pants and refusing even a pull up on the potty.
We’ve tried everything. Encouragement, punishment for going in pants, leaving her on the potty for extended time whenever she has streaks in her pants, sitting with her for hours trying to get her to go. Everything. I feel like I’m at my whits end with it. I gave birth to a younger sibling two months ago and I know that could cause some troubles with training too. Any advice, tricks that worked, anything??
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2024.05.15 17:12 rachel-maryjane My poor dog has been vomiting and pooping blood all night and I’m very scared

She’s at Banfield vet right now and they said they would run tests for giardia and pancreatitis. I’m waiting to hear back from them and trying not to panic.
Would love to hear the results of other people who experienced this. She’s never vomited in her entire life before this :(
• ⁠Species: dog • ⁠Age: 8 • ⁠Sex/Neuter status: spayed • ⁠Breed: chihuahua mix (very tall and skinny, possibly some sort of sighthound) • ⁠Body weight: 19 pounds • ⁠History: She had 2 incidents as a puppy. She broke her long skinny front leg and needed a surgery to install metal rod and screws and was in a cast until it healed. And then she chewed up a tube of my steroidal psoriasis ointment and was hospitalized for a few days where they were worried about calcification to her kidneys/soft tissues due to the high content of vitamin D and something else I forget in the ointment. She ended up being fine but I’ve always been a little worried that something would happen later in her life
• ⁠Clinical signs: it started last night around 10pm where I put her to bed in her crate and she suddenly pooped in her bed which is very unusual for her. It was half normal poop and half liquidy diarrhea, with some bits that looked kind of like blood and kind of like her undigested supper. She gets kibble and probiotic in the morning and a premade balanced raw blend for dinner that we buy from a local farm. I’m confused how the raw blend could pass through her undigested within an hour or two.
I cleaned her up and put her back to bed but then she started whining again so I let her out and she paced around for a while and then started panting heavily which scared me. She then threw up twice within 30min, consisting of most of her undigested dinner and foamy white mucous. Even more concerning that she’s never thrown up in her life.
She drank some water and seemed to settle down so I fell asleep but when I woke up there were maybe 5 puddles of bloody red diarrhea and vomit around the room. So that’s when we decided to take her to the vet this morning around 8am. • ⁠Duration: see above • ⁠Your general location: Massachusetts • ⁠Links to any test results, X-rays, vet reports etc. that you have: none yet
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2024.05.15 16:49 PayAdventurous I was mistook for a slut out of nowhere and harassed

I was waiting for someone while checking up my phone, I was close to a family restaurant/bar at 11:00 in the morning, on a calm and full of people street near my house when this old (seemingly elegant) dude approached me and told me he needed a woman. I got confused and flabbergasted so I asked him with a first concerned and then disgusted look what the f did he want from me. He told me that he wanted me to go to his apartment to fuck using money. I almost gagged and told him to fuck himself that I was waiting for someone and he just went like :"ah" and continued his path. Firstly, I was wearing the most regular, unattractive outfit possible: sneakers, pants, hoodie and raincoat. Secondly, I didn't even wear make up at all, not even nail polish. Thirdly, it was in plain sun at a well communicated street. There was a dude literally drinking coffee next to us. What the fuck? What's his problem??? Do I give certain vibes? I was just existing there... This is so surreal, like life can't be serious
EDIT: of course I already received a bunch of people trying to paint me like the bad person for using a word or for trying to understand this dude's mind. I guess it was my fault for expecting different stuff from the Internet. First, I'm autistic. Secondly, I am child sexual abuse survivor, I have been shamed and blamed for just existing, sexualized by teachers and groomed by my own father. Thirdly, I am a nsfw artist, I know how porn works. I think I will ignore notifications because I am fed up. Thank you all who supported me but I don't want more shame from randos online. Have a nice day
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2024.05.15 16:24 Rafaelkruger The Secret Reasons You Procrastinate and How To Overcome Them

Hi! … I’m a MOD at Jung and I’ve been sharing my articles there for a few years now. I thought this sub could be a good fit for some of them. I read the rules and it seems to me that it’s ok for me to share, if it isn’t, I apologize in advance. Please let me know what I’d need to change.
The Secret Reasons You Procrastinate and How To Overcome Them
The first thing you have to understand is that procrastination isn’t about laziness and rarely about the task we’ve been avoiding.
Simply put, procrastination happens because of the meaning we attach to certain tasks, and because of this hidden meaning, procrastination becomes a strategy to avoid facing something deeper.
For instance, since I launched my book and I have more people paying attention to me, I started procrastinating on posting about certain topics and telling my stories.
Why? … Because I’m afraid of being judged and not being good enough. This evokes my desire to be perfect, which leads to being identified with my productions and being attached to the outcome.
When I was overweight, I’d constantly procrastinate on buying new clothes.
Why? … Because I’d have to look myself in the mirror. I knew my clothes were getting tighter and I didn’t want to buy a bigger number of pants. I was avoiding facing I wasn’t taking good care of myself.
Recently, I lost my credit card and to get a new one was very simple. All I had to do was make a phone call, but I avoided it for weeks.
Why? … Because the call had to be done in Spanish, and I don’t feel very confident speaking Spanish yet.
This makes me feel insecure, because I feel like my Spanish should be way better now that I’m living in Argentina. Of course, this is all in my head, the truth is that I can already hold conversions in Spanish, but I’m judging myself too harshly.
Do you see? … Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper.
It’s about the meaning and heaviness we attach to certain tasks and while this is unconscious, they feel much bigger than they actually are. In fact, even using the word “procrastination” detracts us from the real experience as it’s a way to avoid uncovering the real truth.
People believe that just because they know a word they know everything there is to know about something. The truth is that using terms provides an illusory sense of control because now “we know what the thing is”.
However, we have to look for the secret reason behind procrastination, just like the examples I gave you. I wasn’t “procrastinating”, I didn’t want to feel rejected or judged.
When we unwrap the real reason, it becomes conscious and we can finally do something about it. It’s no longer this invisible master of puppets making us feel ashamed and guilty for constantly postponing certain tasks.
The Root Cause of Procrastination
During my practice as a therapist, I understood that procrastination is a very common symptom in people under the influence of a mother or father complex, and this took things to a whole new level.
In very simple terms, these are people who don’t want to grow up and take any responsibility for their lives. Some people know that as the Peter Pan syndrome, but nowadays people call it the man-child or the woman-child. in Jungian Psychology, we call it the Puer and Puella Aeternus.
When I realized that, I understood that the problem of procrastination is something much deeper, it’s not about postponing daily tasks, It’s about postponing growing up and fully living life. New studies are showing that adolescence is extending to 30 years old and people are doing everything they can to remain childish.
Why? … Because this is the easy way out, while you’re childish you don’t have to take responsibility for anything and you can always blame your parents, your family, and society.
All of this passivity and lack of responsibility leads to people feeling lost and having no sense of purpose and direction. This obviously leads to massive amounts of anxiety and depression. Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper and that’s why simply giving you a list of habits won’t solve it, we have to address the root cause first.
We have to talk about our attitude towards life and what lies underneath procrastination:
For some it’s the fear of becoming independent, truly growing up, and making their own decisions.
Others feel like they’re not good enough to do what they truly desire.
Others procrastinate to avoid disappointing their families or partners.
Others procrastinate because they don’t have the right motivation,
they’re just trying to please someone else. On a deeper, level, they’re living their entire lives with someone else’s map.
Others procrastinate because they lack self-esteem and don’t feel like they deserve to accomplish anything.
Others procrastinate because they’re afraid they’ll be rejected if they put themselves out there.
While others procrastinate because they’re afraid of failure.
The First Thing
If you’re under the influence of a mother and father complex, the first thing you have to realize is that there’s a part of you that wants to remain a child and sabotages all your attempts to become independent and accomplish your goals. This part is also very clever, as it’s a master in creating the perfect excuses to avoid doing all the tasks you have to do.
Now, I know that many people were dealt a bad hand, I had to deal with CPTSD and severe derealization. However, the first thing that ought to be done is to emotionally and psychologically separate yourself from your parents. Until you do so, you’ll never be your own person and you’ll be forever doomed to repeat their stories.
Simply put, psychologically speaking, being under the influence of the parents entails that you unconsciously adopt their worldview, beliefs, fears, and all of their patterns around work, money, relationships, and life in general.
I won’t go into full detail here because I already wrote extensively about it in my Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus Series, I’ll focus on expanding these ideas and how they apply specifically to procrastination.
What I’d like to add is that you won’t be able to carve your own path if you don’t take the responsibility upon you to craft your own values and create your unique sense of meaning.
These answers won’t come from anyone else but you, and if you don’t actively engage in this process, you’ll operate with goals and a belief system that have nothing to do with your personality and authentic desires. You’ll be trying to please others and fulfill their expectations instead of following your soul. That’s what most people choose to do and that’s also why they lead meaningless lives.
Just a quick note here, when I say that people have to emotionally separate from their parents some people tend to assume this is a bad thing. But this is not about cutting ties with your family and shutting them off, this is about becoming your own person, it’s about developing your own personality, beliefs, and values.
It’s about becoming independent and letting go of the need for their approval. It’s about individuation, which means carving your own path. In some cases, this will require keeping a certain distance from the family while for others this might not be necessary, you have to discern what’s your scenario and not use your family as an excuse.
Comfort – A Poisonous Drug
Being under the influence of the parental complex means that you either live a life trying to fulfill their expectations or trying to prove them wrong, in this second case, you do everything they wouldn’t approve. Either way, it’s not a conscious decision because everything is done in reaction to the parents, it’s not an expression of your individuality.
Taking things into a procrastination context, the quickest way to realize if you’re under the influence of a negative mother complex is if you’re constantly seeking COMFORT.
In other words, you’re procrastinating because you HAVE the perfect
conditions.
I know, a bit of a mind fuck…
The problem is that you got used to your current level of comfort and this keeps you stuck. Comfort is one of the most powerful drugs that exists. I love it when I can just brew myself a great cup of coffee and simply stare into the void. I just want to do nothing and pretend that I don’t have any adult responsibilities for a while, lol.
The problem is that people usually fall in love with this “pretending” and it quickly becomes an escapism. Whenever there’s a situation demanding growth, instead of facing it head-on, they choose the easy way out.
When you do that, you also open the door to a mediocre life. This mediocre spirit whispers in your ear, “It’s ok to eat that extra cookie”. “It’s ok to spend all of your time doom scrolling or watching adult videos”.
Quickly, it converts into a master of puppets keeping you hostage of your own “comfort”. The mindset “If I just had the perfect conditions I could start”, perfectly encapsulates it. There’s always one more book you have to read, there’s always one more thing you have to buy, the list never ends!
The first thing you have to realize is that comfort is subjective. You might not think that your current life is objectively comfortable, yet, you got used to it. Worse, you keep lying to yourself saying that everything is ok.
Avoiding making a decision doesn’t make things magically disappear, it just makes the imaginary monster bigger.
Until you admit to yourself that things must change, I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ll just keep wasting your life. This “comfort” is poisonous and will corrode your health, relationships, and all your potential to live a great life.
Now, looking on the bright side.
Once you understand that you’ve been lying to yourself, you also realize that you had the perfect conditions to start all along. Let’s be serious, if you’re reading this right now, I’m sure you have all you need to start whatever you want to do.
Instead of choosing comfort every time, you have to learn how to intelligently apply friction to yourself and we’re gonna explore that in future articles.
I’d like to end with this quoting Kant – “You’re only free when you choose to do what you don’t want to do”.
Many people have this childish idea that if they form a lot of habits they’ll stop having fun and life will become boring, but it’s exactly the other way around. If you don’t develop discipline, your destructive desires will continue to ruin your life.
It’s not fun having bad financial habits and never knowing if you’ll have enough money. It’s not fun not being able to control what we eat, constantly put on weight and feel disgusting when we look in the mirror.
It’s not fun not being able to accomplish our tasks and feel guilty, ashamed, and like a failure. Not only that, when you don’t have good habits you waste a lot of time in meaningless tasks, such as thinking about what you’re gonna eat or wear.
However, when we form good habits everything becomes automatic and we don’t have to think about it anymore, it becomes effortless and this frees a lot of mental energy. We stop being worried about meaningless stuff and we can apply this energy to deep thinking and creativity.
Having good habits and deciding exactly how we’ll spend our time, resources, and energy is extremely powerful and brings immense freedom. It’s time to stop being a slave of your illusory comfort. You’re not lost, you’re afraid of responsibility and carving your own path.
Lastly, here’s a deep dive into the mother and father complex – Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus
Rafael Krüger – Jungian Therapist
submitted by Rafaelkruger to getdisciplined [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 16:11 Rafaelkruger Obliterate Procrastination - The Secret Reasons You Procrastinate and How To Overcome Them

The first thing you have to understand is that procrastination isn’t about laziness and rarely about the task we’ve been avoiding.
Simply put, procrastination happens because of the meaning we attach to certain tasks, and because of this hidden meaning, procrastination becomes a strategy to avoid facing something deeper.
For instance, since I launched my book and I have more people paying attention to me, I started procrastinating on posting about certain topics and telling my stories.
Why? … Because I’m afraid of being judged and not being good enough. This evokes my desire to be perfect, which leads to being identified with my productions and being attached to the outcome.
When I was overweight, I’d constantly procrastinate on buying new clothes.
Why? … Because I’d have to look myself in the mirror. I knew my clothes were getting tighter and I didn’t want to buy a bigger number of pants. I was avoiding facing I wasn’t taking good care of myself.
Recently, I lost my credit card and to get a new one was very simple. All I had to do was make a phone call, but I avoided it for weeks.
Why? … Because the call had to be done in Spanish, and I don’t feel very confident speaking Spanish yet.
This makes me feel insecure, because I feel like my Spanish should be way better now that I’m living in Argentina. Of course, this is all in my head, the truth is that I can already hold conversions in Spanish, but I’m judging myself too harshly.
Do you see? … Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper.
It’s about the meaning and heaviness we attach to certain tasks and while this is unconscious, they feel much bigger than they actually are. In fact, even using the word “procrastination” detracts us from the real experience as it’s a way to avoid uncovering the real truth.
People believe that just because they know a word they know everything there is to know about something. The truth is that using terms provides an illusory sense of control because now “we know what the thing is”.
However, we have to look for the secret reason behind procrastination, just like the examples I gave you. I wasn’t “procrastinating”, I didn’t want to feel rejected or judged.
When we unwrap the real reason, it becomes conscious and we can finally do something about it. It’s no longer this invisible master of puppets making us feel ashamed and guilty for constantly postponing certain tasks.
The Root Cause of Procrastination
During my practice as a therapist, I understood that procrastination is a very common symptom in people under the influence of a mother or father complex, and this took things to a whole new level.
In very simple terms, these are people who don’t want to grow up and take any responsibility for their lives. Some people know that as the Peter Pan syndrome, but nowadays people call it the man-child or the woman-child. in Jungian Psychology, we call it the Puer and Puella Aeternus.
When I realized that, I understood that the problem of procrastination is something much deeper, it’s not about postponing daily tasks, It’s about postponing growing up and fully living life. New studies are showing that adolescence is extending to 30 years old and people are doing everything they can to remain childish.
Why? … Because this is the easy way out, while you’re childish you don’t have to take responsibility for anything and you can always blame your parents, your family, and society.
All of this passivity and lack of responsibility leads to people feeling lost and having no sense of purpose and direction. This obviously leads to massive amounts of anxiety and depression. Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper and that’s why simply giving you a list of habits won’t solve it, we have to address the root cause first.
We have to talk about our attitude towards life and what lies underneath procrastination:
For some it’s the fear of becoming independent, truly growing up, and making their own decisions.
Others feel like they’re not good enough to do what they truly desire.
Others procrastinate to avoid disappointing their families or partners.
Others procrastinate because they don’t have the right motivation,
they’re just trying to please someone else. On a deeper, level, they’re living their entire lives with someone else’s map.
Others procrastinate because they lack self-esteem and don’t feel like they deserve to accomplish anything.
Others procrastinate because they’re afraid they’ll be rejected if they put themselves out there.
While others procrastinate because they’re afraid of failure.
The First Thing
If you’re under the influence of a mother and father complex, the first thing you have to realize is that there’s a part of you that wants to remain a child and sabotages all your attempts to become independent and accomplish your goals. This part is also very clever, as it’s a master in creating the perfect excuses to avoid doing all the tasks you have to do.
Now, I know that many people were dealt a bad hand, I had to deal with CPTSD and severe derealization. However, the first thing that ought to be done is to emotionally and psychologically separate yourself from your parents. Until you do so, you’ll never be your own person and you’ll be forever doomed to repeat their stories.
Simply put, psychologically speaking, being under the influence of the parents entails that you unconsciously adopt their worldview, beliefs, fears, and all of their patterns around work, money, relationships, and life in general.
I won’t go into full detail here because I already wrote extensively about it in my Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus Series, I’ll focus on expanding these ideas and how they apply specifically to procrastination.
What I’d like to add is that you won’t be able to carve your own path if you don’t take the responsibility upon you to craft your own values and create your unique sense of meaning.
These answers won’t come from anyone else but you, and if you don’t actively engage in this process, you’ll operate with goals and a belief system that have nothing to do with your personality and authentic desires. You’ll be trying to please others and fulfill their expectations instead of following your soul. That’s what most people choose to do and that’s also why they lead meaningless lives.
Just a quick note here, when I say that people have to emotionally separate from their parents some people tend to assume this is a bad thing. But this is not about cutting ties with your family and shutting them off, this is about becoming your own person, it’s about developing your own personality, beliefs, and values.
It’s about becoming independent and letting go of the need for their approval. It’s about individuation, which means carving your own path. In some cases, this will require keeping a certain distance from the family while for others this might not be necessary, you have to discern what’s your scenario and not use your family as an excuse.
Comfort – A Poisonous Drug
Being under the influence of the parental complex means that you either live a life trying to fulfill their expectations or trying to prove them wrong, in this second case, you do everything they wouldn’t approve. Either way, it’s not a conscious decision because everything is done in reaction to the parents, it’s not an expression of your individuality.
Taking things into a procrastination context, the quickest way to realize if you’re under the influence of a negative mother complex is if you’re constantly seeking COMFORT.
In other words, you’re procrastinating because you HAVE the perfect
conditions.
I know, a bit of a mind fuck…
The problem is that you got used to your current level of comfort and this keeps you stuck. Comfort is one of the most powerful drugs that exists. I love it when I can just brew myself a great cup of coffee and simply stare into the void. I just want to do nothing and pretend that I don’t have any adult responsibilities for a while, lol.
The problem is that people usually fall in love with this “pretending” and it quickly becomes an escapism. Whenever there’s a situation demanding growth, instead of facing it head-on, they choose the easy way out.
When you do that, you also open the door to a mediocre life. This mediocre spirit whispers in your ear, “It’s ok to eat that extra cookie”. “It’s ok to spend all of your time doom scrolling or watching adult videos”.
Quickly, it converts into a master of puppets keeping you hostage of your own “comfort”. The mindset “If I just had the perfect conditions I could start”, perfectly encapsulates it. There’s always one more book you have to read, there’s always one more thing you have to buy, the list never ends!
The first thing you have to realize is that comfort is subjective. You might not think that your current life is objectively comfortable, yet, you got used to it. Worse, you keep lying to yourself saying that everything is ok.
Avoiding making a decision doesn’t make things magically disappear, it just makes the imaginary monster bigger.
Until you admit to yourself that things must change, I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ll just keep wasting your life. This “comfort” is poisonous and will corrode your health, relationships, and all your potential to live a great life.
Now, looking on the bright side.
Once you understand that you’ve been lying to yourself, you also realize that you had the perfect conditions to start all along. Let’s be serious, if you’re reading this right now, I’m sure you have all you need to start whatever you want to do.
Instead of choosing comfort every time, you have to learn how to intelligently apply friction to yourself and we’re gonna explore that in future articles.
I’d like to end with this quoting Kant – “You’re only free when you choose to do what you don’t want to do”.
Many people have this childish idea that if they form a lot of habits they’ll stop having fun and life will become boring, but it’s exactly the other way around. If you don’t develop discipline, your destructive desires will continue to ruin your life.
It’s not fun having bad financial habits and never knowing if you’ll have enough money. It’s not fun not being able to control what we eat, constantly put on weight and feel disgusting when we look in the mirror.
It’s not fun not being able to accomplish our tasks and feel guilty, ashamed, and like a failure. Not only that, when you don’t have good habits you waste a lot of time in meaningless tasks, such as thinking about what you’re gonna eat or wear.
However, when we form good habits everything becomes automatic and we don’t have to think about it anymore, it becomes effortless and this frees a lot of mental energy. We stop being worried about meaningless stuff and we can apply this energy to deep thinking and creativity.
Having good habits and deciding exactly how we’ll spend our time, resources, and energy is extremely powerful and brings immense freedom. It’s time to stop being a slave of your illusory comfort. You’re not lost, you’re afraid of responsibility and carving your own path.
Here’s a deep dive into the mother and father complex – Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus
Rafael Krüger – Jungian Therapist
submitted by Rafaelkruger to ShadowWork [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 15:35 OpheliaCyanide [That Time I Ran Over A God] --- Chapter 12

What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
Previous Chapter Next chapter coming soon!
Start here! Patreon (up to chapter 9)
I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”
–
Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...
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2024.05.15 15:35 karenvideoeditor The Zoo [Part 6]

First / Previous
Back on the job, my eyes kept going to the camera that was on enclosure one. Andrew told me its real name, but I think that’d be a step too far, putting that out on the internet. I’d just stick with ‘Steve the bear’. Whatever it was, I just knew I’d have a nightmare about it eventually. Last night I slept fitfully but okay. But I know my brain, and I’d already had a nightmare about Yui stabbing me with one of her legs (they are not needle-sharp in real life, this was dream logic) and walking around, having not noticed I was a Ripley-kebab on her leg. I kept trying to get her attention but for some reason I’d been worried about sounding rude.
On my third walk around the zoo, at about 12 a.m. I saw Leila again, who I’d been noticing more and more often. She never looked interested in talking, only walking through the enclosures, and by that I meant any and all of them. She didn’t seem to have a favorite. I assume that however much of her mind that was left over from being alive still gravitated toward looking at the animals, since getting too close was what killed her in the first place.
Then, in enclosure eight, I saw a new creature and stopped abruptly. This one looked chill, but I wasn’t about to make any assumptions. It looked unique in a strange way, shaped like a giant lizard but built like a big cat of some sort. It had an uncanny valley human face, green hair for a mane, and also a horn like a unicorn. It felt like something drawn by an imaginative five-year-old brought to life, but was still somehow oddly endearing.
“Hello,” she spoke, noticing me noticing her. Her voice was distinctly female and oddly deep.
“Hello,” I responded with false cheer.
She pushed herself to her feet and I took an instinctive step back, but she didn't seem to notice, much less take offense. “You’re the guard here?”
“Yup. That’s me.”
“Thank you.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Ah…you’re welcome. For what?”
She cocked her head. “For guarding me.”
That was different. Most of the impressions I had gotten from the animals so far were that they wanted to eat me. And the idea that this one was thankful for me doing my job was refreshing, don’t get me wrong, but made me wary. Call me a cynic, I guess.
“My name is tàiyang. You can call me Sun,” she told me.
“Hi, Sun. I’m Ripley.”
Then she looked toward the sky. “It’s going to rain tonight.”
After a thoughtful moment, I asked, “Does that make you sad?”
“Why would it make you sad?”
I smiled. “Because your name is Sun.”
She paused and then said, “I don’t understand.”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, telling a pun to one of the animals. “Never mind.” I glanced up at the sky. “I thought the rain is supposed to stay away from here. Are the ones who told me that wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s good to know,” I murmured to myself, thinking of my raincoat hanging in the security office closet. It wasn’t that surprising, honestly. Sometimes I felt like the meteorologists in Arkansas try to read the entrails of goats to figure out the weather. It’s all a mess and it’s all made up.
At that, the animal looked to the sky and fell silent. She appeared to be the most uneventful introduction I’d had so far, and I was incredibly grateful for it. Except then the animal kept talking. “He’s under a spell.”
I blinked. “What?”
She looked back to me. “Andrew. He’s under a spell. He’s very unhappy.”
I had no idea how to react to that. For a second I just stared. The sudden jolt of being told my boss was currently being afflicted by magic left me floundering. “He… What?” I finally asked. “Where is he?”
“In his office.”
Oh shit. My eyes instinctively darted in the direction of the main office. I always just entered through the door on the west side of the building, of course, since it led to the security room. It was unnecessary for me to go through the door that first led into the lobby-slash-office Andrew worked out of. Sometimes he even left early, so it was locked anyway. I had the key, but again, it was unnecessary.
Whatever had happened, assuming this animal wasn’t joking around (she seemed completely serious), I needed to establish whether she was right. Leaving the enclosure of the animal I’d just met, I quickly walked back to the small building.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked loudly. “Andrew, are you in there?”
The only reply was silence. I stood there until enough time had passed that it was obvious that no one was coming to answer the door. Taking out my phone, I dialed his cell number and wait as it rang. Then I grimaced when I heard it ringing inside.
Hanging up and shoving the phone back in my pocket, I stared at the closed door.
Trying the doorknob, I found that it was unlocked, and my heart skipped a beat. Andrew always locked his office before leaving. Opening the door slowly, the lights were off in the room, leaving only the faint red glow of the lights outside peeking around his curtains, so I turned on a light. Then my heart plummeted into my stomach, because there was Andrew, splayed limply on the ground, his eyes only half open.
I bolted to him and dropped to his side as he let out a whimper.
“Andrew,” I said, putting two fingers to the side of his neck. He remained silent, and despite his relaxed, wilted appearance, his heart was racing, and I wondered if he was in pain. The room smelled, and it was clear to me that he’d lost control of his bowels. I couldn’t believe I’d been working here for hours without knowing he was in the next room like this.
“Fucking hell. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you. Can you hear me? What happened?” He made a small sound, unfocused eyes attempting to meet mine, but it was as if he were severely deprived of sleep or something, unable to focus. His mouth opened and he tried to say something, but he couldn’t speak. All I got was halting words mushed into each other. I felt for him; he must’ve been mortified by his condition. I would’ve been, at least.
The obvious solution would be to get Suzanne’s number from Andrew’s phone, so I searched him for it and found it in his right jacket pocket. I pressed the button the iPhone, swiped, and let out a sigh of frustration. He was security conscious enough to lock his phone with a code, of course.
“Can you… You can’t tell me the code,” I said knowing. He grunted quietly.
“What happened?”
I shrieked and jumped to my feet. Leila stood in the doorway, staring in shock at Andrew’s body. “You scared the bejesus out of me,” I exclaimed. I stopped myself before asking if she could make some noise when she moved or if I could put a bell on her. “What does it look like happened? Someone put a spell on him.” Abruptly, my stance changed, standing up straight. “Wait. Do you know how to get in touch with…anyone?” I asked desperately.
“I know Ms. Cooper’s phone number,” she said frankly.
My eyes widened. “Seriously? How?”
“Andrew gave it to me after I worked here for three months.”
That stopped my brain dead in its tracks. “You…used to work here?” I whispered. I remembered Andrew telling me that one of the night shift managers had been killed, but he hadn’t told me it was Leila. Whether it was for her own privacy or her dignity or some other reason, it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that I could call Suzanne.
“I worked here for three months,” Leila confirmed as I took out my own phone.
“Okay…what’s her number?” I asked, ready to dial. She rattled off the number and dialed it.
The phone rang twice times before someone answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Suzanne?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
She had a British accent like Andrew did. I took a deep breath and said, “It’s Ripley Mason. I got your number from Leila. I’m here in Andrew’s office and he’s in really bad shape. Someone cast a spell on him and it’s like he’s lost control of the part of his brain that lets him move around and speak.”
“What?” she snapped. “What happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” I said, glancing back to Andrew. He actually looked calmer now, and I hoped that was because he knew Suzanne could fix this. “I was doing my rounds and I met Sun; she’s the one that told me and that’s why I came into his office. I don’t- Who would do this? What do I do?”
“It’s okay, Ripley. I’ll leaving now and will be there soon,” she told me. I heard rustling in the background, the sounds of getting out of a chair and footsteps. “Did you check the security cameras?”
My eyes shut in irritation against my stupidity. It hadn’t even occurred to me. “I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll do that right away.” Proof positive that I was completely out of it. Some security guard I was, not even able to keep my head in an emergency.
“Don’t apologize, Ripley, you’re quite within your rights to be discombobulated at the moment,” she said. “And I’d like you stay with Andrew, but I would prefer to know what happened. Leave his side just for a second to check the footage.
“Okay.” I crouched down to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” His eyes flicked to me, but he didn’t make a sound. Getting back to my feet and walking over to the security room door, I went in and sat at my desk, putting the phone on speaker so I could more easily navigate the footage.
After fidgeting around with the unfamiliar aspect of the program, since I’d never needed to look back before and Andrew only showed me how to do it once, I finally went back to the point where the spell had been cast. “Okay, he walked into his office with two men at…4:08 p.m. and it looks like he was fine with it. He wasn’t under duress, from what I can see.”
“That’s likely Michael Wise and Eric Henry,” Suzanne told me. “They were allegedly making a donation, a herd of Bagot goats.”
“Allegedly?”
“Well, I’m operating under the assumption that they lied if Andrew is spelled.”
I grimaced. That was a good point. Watching them have a conversation, I saw Andrew tense, and then turn to dart toward his desk, but he only made it two steps before one of the men raised what looked like a wand, snapping it in my late boss’s direction, speaking something. As I saw Andrew’s body seize like he’d been hit with a taser and collapse, I hissed in a sharp breath. “Cripes.”
“What is it?”
“One of them had a wand,” I managed. “He-He did something with it.”
“I’m here, Ripley. Come back to the office.”
My eyes widened and I did as I was told, stunned to see her opening the front door. “How did you get here so fast?” I asked.
The woman gave me a small smile, rendered grim by the situation. “Call it a trick of the trade.”
“Oh. Gotcha.”
Suzanne was all hard edges, her pin-straight blond hair cut at an angle just below her ears, and she wore a smart blue pants suit with matching pumps. But then she looked to Andrew and her face softened, despair and fury flashing across it as she quickly walked to him and knelt at his side, taking his weak hand in hers.
“Oh, Andrew,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. You’ll be okay. I already texted a healer and asked her to come by. A friend of mine named Janine.”
I looked back to Andrew’s face, his eyes open and his expression one of exhaustion, but then quickly looked to Suzanne. “Why would someone do this?” I asked.
“I have a feeling at least one of our animals is missing,” she told me, her voice low and hard.
Anger flared up in me. “What?” I asked tersely. I glanced back in the direction of the cameras. “Should we check the cameras to see which enclosure they went to? Do we- Are there cops you can call for this? What do we do?”
Suzanne’s face slowly faded to sadness. “I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You’re accurate in that I do have a different police I’ll call about this. But there’s a good chance we won’t get the animal back.”
“Wait, why? Come on, there’s got to be magic you could do, right?” I asked anxiously.
“The animal will have been warded and sold to someone immediately,” she explained. “They would’ve had a buyer set up, and gone straight there to reduce the risk of being caught with it. Anyone who is buying an animal like this is extremely powerful, which means that even if we catch the men who stole it, they’d go to prison, but they wouldn’t risk angering the buyer. They won’t tell the authorities who it was, even for a lesser sentence. Losing an animal to robbery has only happened twice in the zoo’s history, this is the third time, but that’s how it played out both times. Actually, in the first instance, the police didn’t even catch the people who took it, since they were wearing masks.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Suzanne pushed herself to her feet, walking over and opening it without hesitation. “He’s in here.” I took the opportunity to open the windows and turned down the thermostat so it would start displacing the smelly air.
A woman walked in, Janine presumably. “Oh, goodness,” she breathed, going quickly to Andrew. She took his pulse with one hand as she pulled a wand out from her purse with the other. “It’s good he’s staying calm. Redire orior can be terrifying to be subjected to.”
“He wasn’t calm when I got here,” I told her quietly. “I’ve been here for hours and didn’t know he was here until just a few minutes ago.”
Janine swore softly. “All right. Let me get started.”
I didn’t know what that meant, so I turned to Suzanne. “What did she call this?”
“The spell is ‘redire orior’. It’s a regression of part of the mind, basically all the way back to when we were first born,” she said tightly, anger flickering across her face. “He has no more control over his body than he did when he was a newborn baby.”
I grimaced, looking back to him. “Oh my god,” I whispered. It meant exactly what it had looked like when I’d walked in: Andrew had been rendered completely helpless. Rage welled up inside me, despising the men who’d done this and wishing desperately that Suzanne had been more confident in finding them.
Suzanne took the opportunity to walk into the security office and I heard her sit in my chair. Janine put down her wand to have both hands free and told Andrew, “Just relax, concentrate on breathing slowly,” she said, carefully pulling both of his legs out and rolling him onto his back. She then put his arms at his sides and, picking up her wand, pointed it at his forehead.
I took in a sharp breath of surprise as I saw a faint glow coming from the wand, through the top of it and then to Andrew’s forehead. She held that position for a while, muttering under her breath.
A few minutes later, Suzanne came out and took her phone from her pocket, saying, “I don’t recognize either of the men in the footage. But they seemed distressed, particularly the one that didn’t hurt Andrew. I don’t think that’s what was meant to happen.”
“Meant to or not, it happened,” I muttered through clenched teeth. I’d already decided that my new to-do list every day included first checking the office cameras.
“Andrew,” Janine said, letting the glow fade. “Can you speak?”
“I…yeah,” he whispered.
Suzanne came over to my side. “Thank goodness. How are you feeling? How’s the vertigo?”
“Pretty much gone,” he said, closing his eyes for a long moment, though he didn’t try to stand up.
“Andrew, I pulled up the cameras in the office and listened to the audio,” she told him. “I know what happened.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “The cameras have audio?”
“It’s under admin privileges, but yes. Andrew, you should have known better,” she said softly, looking back to him. “The gun in one of the desk drawers? I presume that’s what you were lunging for, because those two men had just made it clear they were here for an animal.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I just…” He looked distraught.
“They told you to just let them get what they came for,” Suzanne said. “Why didn’t you?” My lips parted in shock.
“The last time this happened, I cooperated, but…I regretted it,” he growled. “We never saw Harriet again. I couldn’t just stand here and let them do whatever they wanted. Not again.” I assumed Harriet was one of their animals, but I didn’t ask.
“Don’t ever do something so foolish again,” she told him, on the verge of being upset, her emotions likely tempered by his condition. “I want to make it clear to you that this job, these animals, they’re immensely important, but they are not worth your life. He could have killed you. If someone gains access to the zoo again to steal an animal I want you to cooperate fully. Understood?”
“Yeah,” Andrew muttered.
The idea that Andrew had tried to bring a gun to a wand fight was staggering. Something heavy curled in my stomach at the thought. It was clear he cared about the wellbeing of the animals to a degree I hadn’t comprehended.
Janine took one of the small pillows from the couch and tucked it under Andrew’s head as Suzanne continued. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll go through the footage to determine what they stole and then call the authorities to report the theft. Janine, can you continue to treat him?”
I wasn’t sure what that entailed, but Janine apparently did, since she nodded and knelt back down as Suzanne went back into the security office. Janine did the same thing that she’d done before, that soft glow channeling light into Andrew’s head. Obviously, I wanted to ask what she was doing, but I knew better than to think I’d get an answer. Instead, I sat in one of the loveseats in front of Andrew’s desk, turning it to face them.
I heard Suzanne’s voice faintly speaking to someone on the phone and the minutes ticked by. Eventually, Suzanne came back out again and she stood next to me for a long moment, watching the healing process before turning to me.
“Andrew told me you were attempting to create some enrichment activities for the animals?” asked my boss.
“Oh, uh…yeah, I am,” I answered. I assumed she was trying to make small talk to distract me from the current situation, and I appreciated it. “The first one went well. Spike loves artichokes, pecans, and hazelnuts. I went with things that made it a challenge to eat, like it’s a challenge to pull out fingernails of its prey.”
Suzanne’s expression brightened just enough for me to notice. “Ripley, that’s wonderful. Very clever.” She let out a breath. “It’s becoming more and more obvious to me that Andrew chose well in hiring you.” I gave her a small smile. “Listen, I’m going to hire someone else to be here with you on duty,” Suzanne told me, “and by that, I mean someone from my neck of the woods. Andrew explained that to you, correct?”
“Not much. Just that you’re not from Earth.”
Suzanne smiled. “That makes me sound like an alien, but yes, I’m not from this dimension. I can hire someone who has similar abilities to mine, who can check in every few hours, make sure everything’s all right, but generally make themselves scarce unless there’s an emergency. He wouldn’t have been able to do much if he’d already been here, but he’d have known what was going on. Andrew would have received assistance immediately.”
I was curious of what those abilities were, aside from being able to see the animals, but I wasn’t bold enough to ask. Also, I was curious about who this new ‘employee’ would be, but presumably I’d find out sooner or later. “That would make me feel a little better,” I said, nodding. “Knowing there was someone else here.”
She nodded once. “It’s as good as done, then. As for Andrew, he’ll need to take a few days off to recover. Would you be willing to give the tours until he’s back in ship-shape?”
My eyes bugged out of my skull. “Wait, what? I can’t even see all the animals!”
Suzanne chuckled at my expression and shook her head. “I can enchant a pair of specs for you to wear,” she told me. “It’ll give you a bit of a headache, but you’ll be able to see all of the animals. Also, I’ll give you the background for each of them, because you’ll be speaking about them to the tourists.”
I blinked, thinking of how awesome it would be to finally know all about them all. And it was flattering, the fact that she had such confidence in me that, without hesitation, she asked if I could take over for Andrew. The best thing for me to do, of course, was to be confident and assure her that I could take any temporary promotion in stride. “I’m…I’m not great with people,” I managed.
Yup. Nailed it.
“You can be a little harsh with them if you need to,” she said with a small, knowing smile. “I assumed that signing up for a job where you interact with a screen of cameras the whole time means you aren’t great with people. And Andrew did brief me on you when he hired you. How good are you at couching your insults in polite talk? The British are quite skilled, but I know Americans aren’t too bad at it.”
I smirked, remembering how a coworker friend of mine once told a customer, “Oh, bless your heart,” in her thick southern accent and it sounded like the worst insult. “I can manage that, I think.”
A buzz from the gate that went to the panel on the wall drew our attention and Suzanne walked over to let the visitors in. It was three people, a man and two women, with a gurney.
Walking over to Andrew, I folded my arms with a small smile as Janine released his head from the glow the wand was emitting. “Hey. Sorry you had to lay on the floor for so long knowing I was cluelessly reading a book in the next room.”
“Eh, not the end of the world,” he whispered. “I’ll be back on my feet soon. So, no parties while I’m gone.”
I snorted and my smile widened, and he returned it.
Going back into the security room, I pulled the system back to the multi-camera exterior view, and I sat there and listened to Suzanne talk to one of the medics, explaining everything that had happened in detail. Once she’d done that and they brought Andrew outside on the gurney, presumably to a waiting ambulance, I gave my statement, and then…it was back to work.
Obviously going back to work like nothing had changed felt weird, but Suzanne stayed, letting me know that she would get some work done at Andrew’s desk until my shift was over. It was likely the opposite of necessary, the robbers were gone, but it did make me feel a tiny bit better knowing that she was in the next room with her wand.
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2024.05.15 15:31 casefilesofVJ The Love Tunnel

-Jack
Every kid growing up in Gympie in the early 90- 2000s knew about the Love Tunnel.
The love tunnel was located over the hill from the skatepark on the Riverbank. It was a massive storm water drain filled with spray paint and lore unbound throughout the generations; the glowing dick, whose name is the furthest in, the people who live inside, the bull shark that lived under the bridge just outside, all that fun stuff.
It collapsed in the late 2000’s in a flood and was eventually rebuilt, but it was all fancy, modern, safe and not the same. Back in the day it had decades of graffiti, crumbling cement, jagged metal pole framing bent and jutting out from the sides. You know, real character.
I remember when I was just a kid at the skatepark and I spotted a bunch of other kids at the metal grating of a drain. I joined them and gazed down a few metres to some older teenagers, they had trekked through this “love tunnel” under the massive hill all this way. Badass I thought. LEGENDARY.
I talked about it at school, about this mysterious “love tunnel”. It was in view from the road when I crossed the bridge everyday on my daily commutes from the backseat of mums car.
I would gaze down at the weir and see the top of the love tunnel, sliightly hidden from view by a hill. It fascinated me.
I learned all these mysterious tales; this person slept with this person there, someone took a dump at the entrance and some other girl stood in it and now she had a nickname, someone found needles, another found a homeless woman and she screamed at them. I was pumped for the next weekend. I was going to go see it for myself.
I saw too much.
Early Saturday morning I was riding my push bike through town and toward destination adventure! I started out at the skatepark, met up with a few of the regulars, a mix of 5-19y/o everyone on the half pipes and ramps had a code of comrady that I've never found in a public place anywhere else and you always had someone to hang with.
My usual crew slowly arrived through the morning, a bunch of other 10/11 year old misfits like myself and we headed on our first place on our journey, Hungry Jacks. Now we never technically stole, we found a loophole…
One or two would order a stunner meal, then we'd take privilege of the free refills and fill up the empty plastic 4L juice jugs that we all had prepped in our backpacks. Coke and red Fanta for days.
So we got our supplies and headed behind HJ, past the volleyball courts and headed down a bush track down to the river.
We walked along the banks to loop back down to where the bridge was, we passed a few teenagers fishing and a couple other groups of kids swinging from rope swings into the water or huddled in groups smoking things they shouldn't.
We eventually arrived at the weir and the stormwater drain that I had been so intrigued by. The Love Tunnel.
Climbing up the hill and seeing it up close when you were just a tiny human. It was like staring into the dark abyss of hell.
There was a small stream of water flowing out of the big grey cylinder and it was covered in multicolored quotes and crude pictures that was very eye opening at the time.
Our voices echoed as one by one we climbed up the grassy, eroding clay edging that was the makeshift path into the mouth that probably changed each time it rained. Each of us had pulled out clumps of grass that we thought were handholds. If you fell, you fell down an embankment of slippery jagged rocks poking out from the fast flowing river.
So were inside and began to walk a couple of metres in then around us the light abruptly disappeared into complete darkness. And I remember the way the sounds traveled you could feel it through your chest it was mesmerizing.
I remember bravely stepping into the darkness and taking five or six steps in. That thick darkness was something else, I ran myself back to that entrance and light, heart pounding from the adrenaline.
This turned into a game of who could go in the furthest. This stopped when one of the boys screamed out from the darkness in pain.
He was back in the light teary eyed a few moments later wet on one side and feigning a laugh. He'd slipped down and cut open his knee, it was hilarious. We teased him saying he was going to get gangrene and leprosy and a myriad of other ailments we had no idea actually was.
We decided to bail, we forgot torches, we didn't plan that part out too well, and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon being little menaces.
We met the next day with a game plan, we had an array of various sized torches, from small ones that didn't do anything, one of those giant rectangle ones that was our main light source, a couple of handheld ones, one which flickered and the other stopped working before we even got into the tunnel.
We got in safely and tested out our torches and began walking into the unknown. It was pretty much the same as before, but there were strange things, old makeshift bongs, shopping bags, random shoes, a shopping trolley, a mattress that was all moldy and rotted. I still to this day do not understand how people managed to get that shit in there.
We passed a section where someone had thrown a can of red paint all over the walls, the amount of those ‘S’ symbols was more terrifying.
We saw light up ahead, we were passing our first grate. It was kind of daunting looking up towards it. Even getting on each other's shoulders we couldn't reach. There was an array of broken beer bottles and glass was everywhere, under the grate was a dead snake amongst some debris.
We had a debate whether to go further, we ended up going on at least until the next grate, we came to a fork, one seemed like a smaller offshoot so we stuck to the bigger side.
There were more offshoots and we came to a part where the big pipes split off into three under another grate. We gazed up hoping to get an identifier of our location, but all we could see was blue. We called out to see if we could get anyone's attention.
“Cooooweeee” we shouted in unison, the sound echoing in all directions.
We were laughing and having a grand time until something shouted back, something that still shakes me to my core to this day.
Some yobbo crackhead chick in her fifties with this ratty pink tank top that was all stretched half showing her saggy titties. “What the fuck you think you little cunts doing down here.” This chick screeched at us through her few teeth or something along the lines of that. She just exploded at us with a barrage of threats.
We were shocked silenced moving together to make one mass.
One of the boys screamed when a skinny guy emerged from the darkness. He was covered in tattoos with scraggly hair and a beard, he was all crazy eyed and pantless.
Someone yelled out to run and it was all the motivation we needed.
We could hear them screaming and the guy ran after us, we heard glass shattering behind us, they must have thrown a bottle. We were legging it.
We got split up in our running, I fell down, tripping over some rubbish, one mate stayed back to help me, this left us without a torch. We came across the same kid who slipped over yesterday, he had slipped down again cutting open his other knee. He wore those with badges of honor at school, but he was blubbering like a baby at this point.
He had the flickering torch and it disoriented us more than helped, as it turned on and off every time he took a step. I thought we were lost but we found the other grate, then eventually the entrance.
The others were already climbed down, we were soon by their side panting in the grass and wiping away our tears so the others couldn't see.
We ran back over to the skatepark and immediately told every kid we saw.
That was the wildest shit we had ever experienced. Sure we’d seen crazy up on the street but to have it jump out at you from the shadows in a storm water drain was next level.
By that night one of the other boys had spilled to his parents about our escapades and a couple of other mums got phone calls, three got in trouble, two of us didn't, including me.
I never stepped foot back in that tunnel, I swam at the weir more times than I could count afterwards though and never encountered anyone else too sketchy.
I think only a year or two later I saw on the news people dying in storm water drains somewhere else in Aus, we never realized how dangerous they could be back then. Lol.
Every party or get together afterwards it was a crowd favorite to bring up. It was a good conversation starter and joined the tales amongst my friends of the weird shit that happens in ‘Helltown’.
Growing up and looking back they were probably just homeless drug addicts freaked out from a bunch of children's voices yelling out coooweee from the underground where they thought they were alone. That would have scared the shit outta me if I was them.
Good times.
.VJ - in 2012 two women tragically passed away when they were exploring the tunnels and got swept away when a wild storm cell hit. Pictures of the upgraded version of the 'love tunnel' can be found in corresponding news articles.
submitted by casefilesofVJ to TrueScaryStories [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 15:14 karmagosuckanegg Does anybody else pee their pants very easily?

I had a PE lesson 15 minutes ago and while playing a game i laughed so hard I peed my pants a little. Not enough to show a clear wet spot but enough to make my underwear wet. Luckily it was at the end of the lesson and I could change into my normal trousers but my underwear was still wet.
Now i’m in my schools washroom. I took my underwear off but i have another lesson in half an hour… what am i supposed to do? I feel like everyone will know i’m not wearing underwear but I can’t just leave school. My jeans are also a little wet and i’m scared everyone will smell that i pissed my pants. This is also not the first time i peed my pants during PE, I don’t know if it’s just me or if it’s every woman but I pee my pants very easily and it causes problems like this.
Has anyone also experienced anything close to this? And do you have any tips on how to deal with it?😭
submitted by karmagosuckanegg to TwoXChromosomes [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 15:05 SmediumFry AITA for getting rid of a dog I couldn’t take care of?

I’ve been a lurker for a while but this has been on my mind lately and I wanted some insight from others. Bear with me, it’s gonna be a long one cuz there’s a lot of back story.
So, about 2 years ago I was doing lashes and started my own business and I met a woman, let’s call her Jen. Jen had 3 dogs that lived with her and her bf. She worked a lot and he did too but from home so it worked for the dogs. Except one of them, let’s call him Buddy. So they had found Buddy as a stray and took him in. He was a 90lb pit bull mix, super sweet but also barely 2 so he was still in his puppy phase a bit and VERY playful. Anyway she tells me that she’s trying to find a home for him and I tell her that my bf (at the time) really wanted his own dog.
So we talk about the dog she tells me he’s house trained and whatnot and I also talk to my bf and we agree to take the dog. We go get him shortly after and bring him home and she tells me “if you ever can’t take care of him please let me know and we’ll come take him back”. Things were fine at first since I already have a dog and they got along really well and played all the time. But then he started pooping in the house and generally just being fairly destructive. I was living in an apt so I didn’t have a yard but it was an 800+ sq ft loft with 2 floors and they had plenty of room to play in and plenty of toys for enrichment. And we took them on 2 30 min walks every day (plus shorter ones for bathroom breaks). Still he would poop in the house while we were working. And I wasn’t working much at this time, but I felt I couldn’t leave him free in the house and I do not like locking dogs in their kennel unless I really need to.
So next time I see her I ask her why she lied about him being house broken and she basically tells me that “well we just let him outside and he goes” and tells me he doesn’t really know how to use a leash or wait to use the bathroom. Like…this is a 90 lb dog and you DIDNT actually train him…at all?? And then lied about it?? Obviously I was upset but still kept him because I made the commitment.
A few weeks later, me and my bf got into a HUGE fight. We had spent the night drinking beer, listening to music, and playing video games and around 3 am he went to the bathroom. After about 30 min it was really quiet in the house so I assumed he went to bed and got ready to go upstairs myself. When I got up there he was in the bathroom so I laid in bed and started reading a book on my phone. He came out and asked if I was reading and when I said yes he sighed SUPER hard and I was like umm wtf? And he tried to say he just felt nauseous. I said “feeling nauseous ain’t never made me sigh like that but ok”. He gets upset that I “assumed” the sigh was towards me. I say “if I answer a question and you sigh right after it’s logical for me to assume it was towards me” and he says he understands and agrees. I try to go to sleep.
Here’s where it all blew up. He gets to going on and on about how I always assume the worst and I’m this and that and blah blah. It’s 330 am and I’m like fuck this I’m just gonna go. I start to get dressed and he gets to saying all this awful stuff about me like “you never loved me, you’re a horrible person” accuses me of cheating on him constantly. And at one point I just said “I’m gonna just agree to everything you say cuz I’m not arguing with you. He says “you prolly finna go fuck another nigga” I tell him yes I am. “You don’t love me” I tell him he’s right I don’t. He loses his shit. He’s literally screaming at me calling me a bitch, saying fuck you over and over, telling me how awful I am and how only somebody fucked up could lead him on like that, etc. It was honestly worse but I think you get the point.
One of the last things he does before he leaves is look me in my eyes and say “I’m gonna fucking k*ll myself and it’s your fault”. For reference, my first bf committed suicide a week after my 17th birthday. I was obviously devastated and traumatized by this and he knew about it. He said it to hurt me. Needless to say, the next day when he tried apologizing I simply told him I was done.
Fast forward a couple weeks and he’s still around cuz he didn’t really have anywhere else to go and I’m too kindhearted to let someone I cared about be homeless so he was sleeping on my couch. Me and an old ex got back in touch (we were still friends but distant) and he invited me to come see his house he had recently bought and to show me an album he’d been working on. I agreed and my ex (one living with me) overheard and was clearly upset but I told him it’s none of his business.
Next day I go over it ended up getting really late so I just stayed over there. Next morning I get a text telling me that my ex was in the hospital because he tried to commit suicide. His sister found him and he was gonna be in the hospital for a few days. This sent me into an emotional and mental spiral because I couldn’t help but blame myself. At the same time, I’m still talking care of both the dogs but it was just too much. So I reached out to Jen and tell her I’m really having a rough time mentally and I could really use some help and if she could please take him back. She basically tells me “it’s not a good time for us right now”. So I tell her that I’ll keep him until I find a home for him.
A few days later I could finally talk to my ex in the hospital and at first things were fine and then he started blaming me for what he did and I just couldn’t take it. I told him he needed to get all his things out of my house when he was better and he needed to find somewhere for his dog to go. Also again I reached out to Jen to see if she could take him. She still couldn’t and eventually my ex found a place for him. An older couple that his grandmother was close with had recently lost their dog who was about the same size. They also lived on a ranch. We thought it was perfect and so my ex took him there to live with them.
Probably about a week later I see Jen and she asks me about Buddy and I tell her what happened and that we rehomed him. She was really upset and was telling me that she didn’t know I needed help that bad and if she did she would have taken him back. Mind you, I asked her at least twice to take him and she said no. I reminded her of this and she said if she knew it was that bad she would have helped. I say I don’t think I should have to explain every detail of what’s going on in my life for her to understand that I needed help.
She was really upset still. And she texted me later saying how her and her bf had both been crying and how much they loved Buddy. But like…if you love him so much why not take him back?? Didn’t and still doesn’t make sense to me. Anyway that pretty much ended our friendship and I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t really think I did anything wrong but for some reason it’s been on my mind a lot lately. So AITA for rehoming the dog?
Tl;dr Me and bf adopted a dog from someone I knew. We broke up and he tried to unalive himself. I tried to give the dog back because I was spiraling mentally and they said no. I rehomed the dog to an older couple that lived on a ranch. The person I got the dog from was very upset and we haven’t talked since.
submitted by SmediumFry to AITAH [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 11:17 DisastrousPeanut816 Aversion to the past?

This is the start of my 10th day out, after 5 years in ODRC. My situation right now is better than a lot of guys who just got out. My dad's still here and he lent me money to get a PC and phone. When I got locked up I was selling things online, and he also managed to get into the place I had and saved my clothing and the things I sell. The basement in this place was full of totes of merchandise, all I need to do is sort it all out and start selling. But I haven't been able to.
It's great that he saved that stuff. It's a job without needing to deal with all the stigma of applying to work for a company right after release. I have like 30 shirts now and maybe a 15 pair of pants and shorts and boxers and all of that. I'm lucky as hell for it and I know that. But it's like I can't deal with it. The stuff is all tossed together and will take days to sort. It's rocks. Some natural rough, some tumbled, some facetable rough. The labels I had on them are gone, so there are several I noticed that I don't even remember what they are. He also saved 6 of the Husky steel rack shelving units I had them on, which is enough to hold about half of them.
I got the racks all put together with no problem. They've been in basements and dirty garages for years and were covered in mouse poop and caked on shit, but cleaning them and getting them put together was easy. I felt motivated to do it. But then I started to mess with the actual rocks and just ended up tossing containers onto shelves mostly blindly to get them off the floor. I've tried to go down and sort them 3 times now, but within 5 minutes I have to walk away and that's it for the day.
I was just starting my own business right before I got locked up. I was 9 months in and working pretty much constantly, working with those rocks pretty much was my entire life right before my arrest. It's like I have some very strong aversion to it now. When I try to work with them or even think about sorting them it's like a huge surge of stress and maybe terror but it also feels kind of like emptiness... like being locked up might have been constant terror on some level but I kept it pushed down so now that's just sort of what feels like emptiness now.
Does that make sense to anyone? I don't want people here to think I'm being lazy and avoiding working and I want to bring money in to help out so much, but it's like something's broken or disconnected inside about it and I just can't handle jumping right back into what I was doing right before getting locked up yet. Has anyone else gone through that? How long did it take to deal with?
In the 9 days I've been out I have met with my PO (finally, two days ago) and got approved for food assistance and bought groceries (yesterday). The week before that my mom was in the hospital and the day after she went in my dad woke me up yelling for help because he threw his back out and had to go to the bathroom. When I went into his bedroom there were a dozen piles of bloody puppy shit from his dog. My dad's back was so bad it took me 30 minutes to get him from the bed into a kitchen chair I brought up and put right beside it. He couldn't make it to the bathroom so I brought him an empty coffee container to piss in. He hurt bad enough to do it and was probably embarrassed by it, but to me that was pretty normal. Everyone has a piss jug, right?
Then I cleaned up all the puppy shit and scrubbed the rug and hand washed his sheets since it was on them. Didn't have a license to go to the laundromat so I had to wait 2 days until he felt better enough to drive me so I could get all the laundry washed. During all that my mom was in a hospital only like 6 blocks from my dad's place. They're separated but I walked up to visit with my mom and make sure she was alright twice a day, and cooked and did dishes for my dad since he couldn't those days. And I've only managed to sleep 5 hours maybe 3 times, the rest of it it's waking up after an hour or two and unable to get back to bed. And there's no shower here, just a tub. I've only managed to get in once. Idk what's with it. Maybe just the difference in how exposed and vulnerable you'd be in a tub vs a nice safe little shower where someone can only come from one place. I know no one's going to come in, but... fuck. I don't know.
Yesterday was supposed to be my first big day sorting the rocks and getting ready to take pictures and post online, but I went down to do it and it immediately felt wrong and within a few minutes I just sort of broke. Like it's hard to look at them and think about them. For 5 years I was broke in prison and thinking about them stressed me out because I couldn't do anything about them and no one on the outside knew anything about them to sell some and get me some money. Thinking about them was just a ton of stress, so I made myself not think about them at all. I avoided the thought to avoid the stress. Now I'm out and I can actually finally do something about them and turn them into money... but even though I want to do that I still can't think about them. That seems crazy.
Now it's 5am and I've been up since 3. I actually slept from 8pm-3am. It's the most sleep I've gotten. I know I really need to go down to the basement and get some work done today so I can start bringing in money, but I'm afraid I'll go down there and just sort of stun up inside again.
Just needed to get that out.
submitted by DisastrousPeanut816 to Prison [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 08:44 Key-Anxiety8451 how do I (19M) give my gf security and make her (20F) feel secure?

I’m 19 year old and she’s 20. I love her so much but the problem is sometimes I’m clueless on what to do as boyfriend. This is my first serious relationship. Me and my gf work together, what caused me to asked this?
What happened was, it was Mother’s Day and me and my gf was walking into the building to start our day at work. My gf brought with her flowers that she has gotten for our boss which is a woman.
She walked by my best friend who of which is a manager and he’s like family to me. My friend(manager) made a comment about her bringing roses to our boss, in many words he called her a “suck up” I wasn’t fully sure about what he said, until we were clocked in then she texted me and told me what he said.
I went up to her to ask if she was going to talk to him(manager) she said no so I told her to put on her big girl pants and talk to him. She gotten upset with me and told me to get away from her. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. As I write this I feel more embarrassed.
My general manager somehow found out about what he said and my friend(manager) gotten in trouble for it. Later on that night, she told me that she doesn’t feel secure and safe with me. I know that I am in the wrong. I’m open to any suggestions or advices.
submitted by Key-Anxiety8451 to BlackMentalHealth [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 08:39 Key-Anxiety8451 how do I (19M) give my gf security and make her (20F) feel secure?

I’m 19 year old and she’s 20. I love her so much but the problem is sometimes I’m clueless on what to do as boyfriend. This is my first serious relationship. Me and my gf work together, what caused me to asked this?
What happened was, it was Mother’s Day and me and my gf was walking into the building to start our day at work. My gf brought with her flowers that she has gotten for our boss which is a woman.
She walked by my best friend who of which is a manager and he’s like family to me. My friend(manager) made a comment about her bringing roses to our boss, in many words he called her a “suck up” I wasn’t fully sure about what he said, until we were clocked in then she texted me and told me what he said.
I went up to her to ask if she was going to talk to him(manager) she said no so I told her to put on her big girl pants and talk to him. She gotten upset with me and told me to get away from her. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. As I write this I feel more embarrassed.
My general manager somehow found out about what he said and my friend(manager) gotten in trouble for it. Later on that night, she told me that she doesn’t feel secure and safe with me. I know that I am in the wrong.
Edit: In the past, when stuff like this used to happen, she didn’t want me to say anything because she didn’t want to stir up problems at work.
submitted by Key-Anxiety8451 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 08:10 Key-Anxiety8451 Women of Reddit, how do I give my gf security and make her feel secure?

I’m 19 year old and she’s 20. I love her so much but the problem is sometimes I’m clueless on what to do as boyfriend. This is my first serious relationship. Me and my gf work together, what caused me to asked this?
What happened was, it was Mother’s Day and me and my gf was walking into the building to start our day at work. My gf brought with her flowers that she has gotten for our boss which is a woman.
She walked by my best friend who of which is a manager and he’s like family to me. My friend(manager) made a comment about her bringing roses to our boss, in many words he called her a “suck up” I wasn’t fully sure about what he said, until we were clocked in then she texted me and told me what he said.
I went up to her to ask if she was going to talk to him(manager) she said no so I told her to put on her big girl pants and talk to him. She gotten upset with me and told me to get away from her. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. As I write this I feel more embarrassed.
My general manager somehow found out about what he said and my friend(manager) gotten in trouble for it. Later on that night, she told me that she doesn’t feel secure and safe with me. I know that I am in the wrong, I’m looking for advice.
submitted by Key-Anxiety8451 to women [link] [comments]

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