Toast for colleague

A few days ago, I received a file from a journalist friend who teaches at a private university in Montevideo. I known this person for years now and the exchange with her on our countless bar nights basically made me want to try to study journalism. After I started my career we became even closer and we shared concerns about the evolution of information, social media and the infamous cerebral callosity we acquired to endure the tragedy.
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.

Hello everyone, first of all, I noticed that in my first account (here) you got a little confused about the timeline of all this. To put an end to this issue once and for all: it's been 5 years since I got out of jail. But even after all this time, I'm still haunted by this whole story, so I decided to come here to tell it. Secondly, I've been trying to get in touch with the prison's management and legal department to find out what I can or cannot share here with you guys, I don't want to get into trouble with the law again haha. Anyway, I talked to my wife about the post I made and she helped me remember another case related to Cell 11, and while I don't get a definitive answer from the prison's advisory, I believe you guys will be interested in this account.
It was shortly after all that shit with Tulley. They still thought he would come back, so it was the guards' main topic, always looking for updates on his status. You could feel that heavy, bad air. I was already being haunted by nightmares too, waking up occasionally gasping and sweating with the image of the guard totally bestial over me. I think Francis noticed this change in the atmosphere and wanted to cheer things up a bit by organizing a card tournament.
It was a simple game, poker. Everyone there knew how to play and very well. The prizes for first, second, and third place were, respectively, a week of extra food, a pack of cigarettes, and a new deck of cards. It wasn't much, but in that environment, anything beyond the normal was a reason for celebration. I wasn't one of the best players, but I decided to participate anyway, thinking it would be a welcome distraction from the growing tension in the prison.
During the tournament, Francis circulated among the tables, watching the players and making sarcastic comments. He was always good at keeping morale high, I guess that's ultimately the role of a leader. As the cards were dealt and the bets started to rise, I could feel the energy in the room increase, everyone focused on the game and putting aside their problems for a moment.
It was when it was my turn to bet that things started to get strange. I had a decent hand, but not great. I decided to take a risk and make a bold bet, hoping the other players would back off. When, however, I looked up to bluff, someone made me uncomfortable. You see, it's normal for you to stare at others in the game, trying to identify the lie, the cheating, the face, but that particular pair of eyes was different.
It was Bob. His eyes weren't just intimidating, but they seemed to glow with a strange intensity... I felt a shiver run down my spine as I tried to keep my expression neutral, showing no sign of weakness. He just smiled back at me, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which remained fixed on me, like a predator. I realized that... he was imitating, albeit to a lesser extent, Tulley's expression. Not in a genuine way, of course, but mockingly, teasing me. What a bastard...
The others seemed not to notice, staring at me as I tried to compose myself. I continued the game and finally, the last round came and Bob made his final bet. I looked at my cards and realized I didn't have any chance of winning anymore. I was about to give up when an idea popped into my mind. With a resigned sigh, I pushed all my chips to the center of the table, betting everything on one last desperate move.
When I did that, everyone fell silent, focusing all their attention on me. Francis, who had been watching the game from afar, approached our table, curious to see how the hand would unfold. His eyes, normally calculating, showed a flash of interest as he watched the dynamics between me and Bob.
Bob didn't hesitate to match my bet, putting all his chips in too. It was now or never. I could hardly contain my breath as I waited for the cards from the last round to be revealed. The deck seemed to vibrate with energy, as if it were aware of the tension building in the room. The cards were dealt, one by one, and each one seemed to echo the pulsation of my heart. I kept my face impassive, while Bob displayed a confident smile, as if he already knew he had won. But then, the last card was turned over and the fate of the game was sealed.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A perfect sequence, an unbeatable hand. I had won. I stood there, with the same confused look as Bob... it wasn't possible... the cards I saw before in my hand weren't these...
Silence hung over the room as everyone processed what had just happened. Francis was the first to break the silence, letting out a loud laugh and applauding in approval. The other inmates joined him, clapping and patting my back in congratulations. I tried to attribute the confusion to the nervousness I had just experienced, the tension and all the rest of the scene, and in the end, well, I had won, hadn't I?
I joined the cheering crowd, believing they were celebrating Bob's defeat more than my victory specifically. During that night, after all, I was the celebrity. As the night progressed, the prisoners began to disperse, with the exception of about five of them who wanted to "celebrate" the day's victory with homemade (and somewhat unhealthy) drinks.
I was somewhat uncomfortable with all that attention, but it seemed like a good idea. It was me, old Munford, Francis, and three more inmates whose names I could barely remember at that moment. Munford was the first to propose a toast in my honor, raising his makeshift mug filled with a very dubious red mixture.
Francis was sitting beside me, with a satisfied smile on his face, apparently happy with the distraction the card tournament had provided to the prison. The other inmates also seemed to be having fun, laughing and chatting animatedly as we shared stories and jokes.
For a moment, I managed to forget about the nightmares, Tulley's meltdown, and all the strange things that had been happening in the prison. We were all there, together. But an idea crossed my mind at that moment: alcohol is great at loosening tongues. Maybe, if Munford drank a little more, I could get more information, some answers.
"Thank you, Munford," I said, raising my own mug. "But the victory was for all of us here tonight."
He smiled and raised his mug in response, taking a generous sip of his homemade drink. I waited until he sat back down again, seizing the moment to strike up a conversation.
"And of course," I continued, "In respect to our colleague Tulley, may we meet again soon, in better circumstances."
"God bless his soul," Munford said, raising one hand up. "Poor lad, I saw his wife this week here, she seemed devastated."
"Poor thing..." I murmured. "And did you... hear about what happened that night?"
"Only the rumors from the guards," he paused for a moment. "To be honest, I wanted to hear from you what really happened."
I decided to take a more cautious approach, keeping the darker details to myself, but still trying to extract as much information as possible from Munford.
"Well, you know how those rumors are," I said, trying to sound casual. "We can't always trust what we hear. But there was something... strange that night, something I can't fully explain."
The old man leaned forward, his eyes shining with curiosity.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"You know, that night I was heading back to my cell when I came across Tulley. There he was, standing, in front of..." I made a dramatic pause and leaned closer to him. "Cell 11."
Munford's expression instantly changed upon hearing the cell number. His eyes narrowed, and I could see a glimmer of recognition in them, as if he knew more than he was willing to admit.
"Cell 11, huh?" he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "That damn cell..."
"Yes. He was staring at the wall, which I suppose had the painting. When I talked to him, he freaked out and came at me." I waited a few seconds as the man processed what I had just said. "Were you... here when the prisoner who made the painting came here?"
Munford looked at me with a somber expression, as if he were reliving some moment from the past.
"Oh, I was here at that time, yes," he replied, his voice heavy with weight. "It was a... difficult time for all of us."
"What happened to him?" I asked, feeling a chill run down my spine as I awaited Munford's response.
The old swindler seemed reluctant to continue, but after a moment of hesitation, he spoke in a grave whisper:
"He was a disturbed man, you know. Killed his own mother and all, didn't talk to anyone, and at least I never saw him eating."
"But what about the painting?" I pressed, my curiosity now boiling. "What happened to it?"
Munford lowered his eyes for a moment, as if gathering courage to continue.
"The painting... it was... eerie," he began slowly. "At least that's what those who saw it say. At that time, the guards didn't know what to do..."
"So, they covered it with a layer of paint?" I conjectured.
"Not so simple," Munford replied, his voice now grave. "They tried, of course. But the painting always came back. The new paint peeled away exactly on the outline of the dreadful drawing..."
Shivers ran down my spine as I absorbed Munford's words.
"So, what happened next?" I asked, barely able to contain my anxiety.
Munford sighed, looking tired.
"After that... things started to get strange in here," he continued. "Nightmares, meltdowns... and then, the disappearances began."
"Disappearances?" I repeated, feeling a knot in my stomach.
"Yes," Munford confirmed grimly. "People just... vanished. And never came back."
Unbeknownst to me, everyone was now quiet, looking at us, the tension even greater.
"And do you know what the painting was?"
Munford took a long sip of his drink and cleared his throat before speaking.
"An eye... A big eye, that never blinks, that never sleeps, always watching..."
Those words, somehow, shook me, sending a shiver straight down my spine.
I found myself looking around the room, as if expecting to find that insidious gaze in some dark corner. But of course, there was nothing but the bare walls of the prison and the faint glow of fluorescent lights. Still, the air around me felt heavier, as if it were laden with the sinister energy of that painting.
The atmosphere was dead now. We were leaving gradually, exchanging a curt "good night." Only Francis stayed, saying he wanted to talk to Munford, and I already had too much information, so I didn't want to be nosy. I bid farewell to my friends and began walking towards my cell, crossing paths with some guards who were chatting.
Under normal circumstances, I would have received a scolding, since our curfew had sounded about 10 minutes ago, but not that night. They just tipped their hats and murmured a "Go to your cell, okay?" and I certainly followed my way.
Now, an important thing. I was in cell 4, and Munford, in 23. It was about a 5-minute walk, and halfway there, I would have to pass by cell 11. I was tense, remembering what I had heard, and started to slow down as the numbers decreased. I was turning the corner of cell 17 when I saw, standing at the end of the corridor, a large silhouette, someone standing, staring directly at me.
I stopped abruptly, my heart racing at the scene. A chill ran down my spine as I tried to discern who or what was standing there, watching me with a disturbing intensity. The dim light of the corridor wasn't enough to reveal many details about the mysterious figure. All I could see was a blurry outline, motionless like a statue, indistinct against the dark background of the corridor.
Suddenly, it started walking towards me, and I could see its face illuminated by the photons of the lamp above its head: It was Bob.
"What are you doing here, Bob?" I finally managed to articulate, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.
He stopped a few steps away, his face expressionless, just watching me with those bright eyes.
"I was just taking a walk," he replied calmly, his voice as smooth as ever. "And you, what are you doing here so late?"
I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized I didn't have a good answer to that question. Why was I there, standing in the hallway at night, staring at Bob as if I had seen a ghost? His voice sounded as if he were trying to sound friendly, but his menacing appearance contrasted with his tone.
"I... was... just going to my cell," I stammered, trying to sound casual. "And you know how it is... it's a long way..."
Bob didn't say anything for a moment, just continued staring at me with those inscrutable eyes. I felt increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze, as if he could read my thoughts.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he finally asked, his voice sounding strangely concerned.
"Of course, of course, just a little tired."
"You know..." he gently placed his hand on my shoulder. "We're among friends here, aren't we?"
"We are?"
He laughed.
"Of course, buddy. I just wanted to ask you something: you cheated, didn't you?"
With my heart pounding in my chest, I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure.
"Cheat?" I repeated, trying to sound innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about, Bob. I swear I played fair in the tournament."
He continued to stare at me, his bright eyes seeming to penetrate my soul.
"Oh, but you did, didn't you?" he said, his voice now taking on a more sinister tone. "You found a way to cheat, a way to win even when your cards weren't good enough. I'm not angry, you know, I don't mind you taking the prize, but I just want to know how you did it." He leaned closer to me. "And for you to admit it."
"This is all a misunderstanding, Bob," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I swear I played fair. Maybe you're just mistaken, or maybe it just wasn't your lucky night."
He tilted his head to the side, his smile slowly fading.
"Interesting," he murmured, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Very interesting. But I think you and I know the truth, don't we? Either way, I'll be keeping an eye on you."
With those words, he turned and began walking back down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness. I stood there, my heart still pounding in my chest as I tried to process what had just happened.
"That was all I needed, another worry for today," I remember murmuring.
Unfortunately, that didn't distract me enough, and soon I was feeling nervous again as I watched the numbers decrease on the cell door. 14... 13... 12.
The corridor seemed darker than ever when I reached the front of Cell 11. I paused for a moment, hesitating to pass by it. A sense of oppression enveloped me, as if something sinister were lurking on the other side of that metal door.
I could simply move on, ignoring Cell 11 and returning to my cell. But a part of me, curious and perhaps a bit foolish, wanted to know more. Gathering courage, I took a few hesitant steps towards the cell. The dim light of the corridor cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an even more sinister atmosphere around me. I held my breath and stood there trying to hear something behind the door, any faint noise.
For a moment, all I could hear was the muffled sound of my own rapid breathing, when I felt someone pulling me from behind.
"What's up, Bob, I've already said I didn't che—" I was interrupted by a pair of hands pressing tightly on my neck like icy claws, cutting off my breath and preventing me from articulating any sound. My body reacted instinctively as I fought for my life, my heart pounding in my chest, and my lungs burning for air. The darkness of the corridor seemed to close in around me, increasing the feeling of despair and claustrophobia.
Amidst the desperation, I managed to twist my body. With a quick movement, I turned to face my assailant, ready to confront them, but what I saw before me made me freeze.
It was Tulley.
His hands felt even heavier as our eyes met. The shock of seeing him there, in front of me, after everything that had happened, paralyzed me for a moment. It was as if hell itself had materialized in that cell. My legs trembled more from fear than from lack of oxygen as tears bathed my face.
"Tulley," an animalistic growl escaped my throat.
"You want to see, huh? You think you can look back at him?" His voice was a dry rasp. "He's seen you a long time ago, and he doesn't like being looked back at."
My vision began to darken. I thought I would die, and how horrible it would be to die with fear, the expression of terror externalized, petrified in my coffin. I felt my body weighing down, tingling at the edges, my brain only able to scream, "DON'T DIE DAMMIT!" I was almost passing out when breath returned to my lungs. I saw Tulley lying on the floor, a large guard on top of him, accompanied by his wife, who now cried and sobbed in despair.
I saw myself there, on the floor, trying to catch my breath as the guard helped me up.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
I nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. My mind spun around all the threats, and I could hardly believe that all of this had really happened.
"Yes, im fine" I finally replied, my voice still trembling. "Thank you for intervening."
The guard nodded, helping me to stand up and guiding me away from the cell. Tulley's wife was still hysterical next to her husband, while other guards arrived to help calm her down. I slowly backed away from the scene, still shaken by what had just happened.
As I moved away from Cell 11, a sense of relief began to seep in. My neck still burned, but gradually I began to normalize. I swear to you, to this day, I bear the marks of Tulley's fingers under my skin, a reminder of where my curiosity led me. Turns out, Tulley was under observation, and he had gone to the prison to speak with the local doctor and pick up his psychiatric file. While his wife was talking to the doctor, he fled and ran straight to the cell...
I definitely didn't expect what I encountered when I laid my head on the pillow that night, but Tulley's second attack wouldn't be the scariest thing for me that day. When I woke up, what happened left me so numb that I didn't even pay attention to the bruises or the trauma of the previous night. As I got up and removed the pillow to make the bed, I came across something that shouldn't exist, and that until then, I had never even imagined:
Underneath my pillow lay a playing card, a club, like the number 11, and with some kind of red ink, a drawing was visible, a small face with ";)"

So I have a huge crush on a senior colleague at work, we have only started working with each other for two months. We have minimal interact with each other but I kind of think he likes me back. Please tell me if its my gut talking or my delusional self playing me dirty 🥲
Positive 💀 Caught him staring at me a few times. Always feel he looks at me across the room or doing something near me, i could feel his present quite often.
He “laughed” it off when I said sorry about something basically telling me don’t worry about it (with a laughing emoji). End his email with have a great day. When i asked him a favour (work related) his replied always very enthusiastic: yes of course, no problem. Those words. “Cheers” too but I understand this just means he’s friendly. I’m just happy he thinks he can be casual with me.
He replied a minute after I emailed him (it may not mean much but we have very little interact so I took it as a positive thing). He emailed me about 8am in the morning even though he start at 9am.
Negative 🫠 He looks away when i caught him looking.
He does not reply to my email that quickly on average, keep me waiting for like 3-4 hours He does not say anything other than work. Very direct and short. Sometimes he does not read my reply on work chat (or he does but not concern acknowledging my messages)
He left the space near me when I came back to my desk.
He does not say hello when he saw me in the corridor. I don’t either because I am too nervous and always look on the floor walking past him. To be honest when I feel he stares at me it could be just a feeling. He probably does not look at me at all.
I really like him. So much. I start thinking of kissing him and holding hands with him. Having convos and laughing with him. My face buried on his chest. I’m absolutely toast.
Help! Please 🙏🩷🥲

UPDATE 1: 8 days since the vomiting started, I’m now a lot less nauseated. Still a little funny in the tummy and eating smaller meals. However nignt and day compared to a week ago! So future people looking at this post, have hope!

• I know I made a mistake.
• I take full responsibility. I’ll add a blurb down the bottom on how I did it and some more info.

Has anyone else done this?? I did it Friday and still debilitated with nausea. I have work Sunday and I hope by then (10 days since injection) I’ll have some relief as right now the first 4 have been brutal.
Question 1: have you made this mistake? Question 2: how long were you out of action for?
Story of what happened:

• 28YO, M, BMI 29. , Australia, Engineer.
• non smoker.
• rarely drink.
• medication : Escitalopram 20mg , diazepam as needed.

First off, I know I messed up. I take responsibility for my actions.
Got diagnosed with a fatty liver and did My 2 year medical for work last week and I had put on 25kg since time putting me at a BMI of 29.5. I have a work out plan and boxing lesson once a week to try and lose some weight.
I have an diagnosed anxiety disorder and largely around health. A few comments from friends and colleagues about my weight, and boom - the anxiety spiral began. I reacted and got a ozempic pen through from a friend that day. While reading how to give the shot and watching a tutorial on how to do it. Accidentally gave myself a higher dose (1mg) then I meant to. I meant to give .25mg with the 4ml pen. Rational brain overtook anxious brain and I realised how silly I was taking unprescribed medication while it was in shortage (selfish). Didn’t tell my partner as I was so ashamed of what I did.
I spent Saturday and Sunday violently vomiting and some from the other end too. Horrific nausea. I deserve this I know. Went to urgent care and they gave me some odansatron (zofran) which I’ve managed to eat a banana and 1 piece of toast today. But still feel like I’ve gonna puke.
What sort of timeframe do you think from your experiences till I feel better. I understand the half life is a week. Do people normally feel better after then?
Please i know i made a huge mistake, im human and my own worst enemy. My partner is very understanding now I’ve told her but to everyone else I’ve just said gastro.
When do side affects decrease?
Thanks in advance, One silly anxious sick man.

UPDATE 1: 8 days since the vomiting started, I’m now a lot less nauseated. Still a little funny in the tummy and eating smaller meals. However nignt and day compared to a week ago! So future people looking at this post, have hope!

• I know I made a mistake.
• I take full responsibility. I’ll add a blurb down the bottom on how I did it and some more info.

Has anyone else done this?? I did it Friday and still debilitated with nausea. I have work Sunday and I hope by then (10 days since injection) I’ll have some relief as right now the first 4 have been brutal.
Question 1: have you made this mistake? Question 2: how long were you out of action for?
Thanks in advance!!
Story of what happened:

• 28YO, M, BMI 29. , Australia, Engineer.
• non smoker.
• rarely drink.
• medication : Escitalopram 20mg , diazepam as needed.

First off, I know I messed up. I take responsibility for my actions.
Got diagnosed with a fatty liver and did My 2 year medical for work last week and I had put on 25kg since time putting me at a BMI of 29.5. I have a work out plan and boxing lesson once a week to try and lose some weight.
I have an diagnosed anxiety disorder and largely around health. A few comments from friends and colleagues about my weight, and boom - the anxiety spiral began. I reacted and got a ozempic pen through from a friend that day. While reading how to give the shot and watching a tutorial on how to do it. Accidentally gave myself a higher dose (1mg) then I meant to. I meant to give .25mg with the 4ml pen. Rational brain overtook anxious brain and I realised how silly I was taking unprescribed medication while it was in shortage (selfish). Didn’t tell my partner as I was so ashamed of what I did.
I spent Saturday and Sunday violently vomiting and some from the other end too. Horrific nausea. I deserve this I know. Went to urgent care and they gave me some odansatron (zofran) which I’ve managed to eat a banana and 1 piece of toast today. But still feel like I’ve gonna puke.
What sort of timeframe do you think from your experiences till I feel better. I understand the half life is a week. Do people normally feel better after then?
Please i know i made a huge mistake, im human and my own worst enemy. My partner is very understanding now I’ve told her but to everyone else I’ve just said gastro.
When do side affects decrease?
Thanks in advance, One silly anxious sick man.
View Poll

• 28YO, M, BMI 29. , Australia, Engineer.
• non smoker.
• rarely drink.
• medication : Escitalopram 20mg , diazepam as needed.

First off, I know I messed up. I take responsibility for my actions.
Got diagnosed with a fatty liver and did a My 2 year medical for work last week and I had put on 25kg since time putting me at a BMI of 29.5. I have a work out plan and boxing lesson once a week to try and lose some weight.
I have an anxiety disorder and largely around health. A few comments from friends and colleagues about my weight, and boom - the anxiety spiral began. I reacted and got a ozempic pen through alternative methods. While reading how to give the shot and watching a tutorial on how to do it. Accidentally gave myself a higher dose (1mg) then I meant to. Rational brain kicked in and I threw it in the bin. Didn’t tell my partner as I was so ashamed of what I did.
I spent Saturday and Sunday violently vomiting and some from the other end too. Horrific nausea. I deserve this I know. Went to urgent care and they gave me some odansatron (zofran) which I’ve managed to eat a banana and 1 piece of toast today. But still feel like I’ve gonna puke.
What sort of timeframe do you think from your experiences till I feel better. I understand the half life is a week. Do people normally feel better after then?
Please i know i made a huge mistake, im human and my own worst enemy. My partner is very understanding now I’ve told her but to everyone else I’ve just said gastro.
When do side affects decrease?
Thanks in advance, One silly anxious sick man.

• 28YO, M, BMI 29. , Australia, Engineer.
• non smoker.
• rarely drink.
• medication : Escitalopram 20mg , diazepam as needed.

First off, I know I messed up. I take responsibility for my actions.
Got diagnosed with a fatty liver and did a My 2 year medical for work last week and I had put on 25kg since time putting me at a BMI of 29.5. I have a work out plan and boxing lesson once a week to try and lose some weight.
I have an anxiety disorder and largely around health. A few comments from friends and colleagues about my weight, and boom - the anxiety spiral began. I reacted and got a ozempic pen through alternative methods. While reading how to give the shot and watching a tutorial on how to do it. Accidentally gave myself a higher dose (1mg) then I meant to. Rational brain kicked in and I threw it in the bin. Didn’t tell my partner as I was so ashamed of what I did.
I spent Saturday and Sunday violently vomiting and some from the other end too. Horrific nausea. I deserve this I know. Went to urgent care and they gave me some odansatron (zofran) which I’ve managed to eat a banana and 1 piece of toast today. But still feel like I’ve gonna puke.
What sort of timeframe do you think from your experiences till I feel better. I understand the half life is a week. Do people normally feel better after then?
Please i know i made a huge mistake, im human and my own worst enemy. My partner is very understanding now I’ve told her but to everyone else I’ve just said gastro.
When do side affects decrease?
Thanks in advance, One silly anxious sick man.

UPDATE 1: 8 days since the vomiting started, I’m now a lot less nauseated. Still a little funny in the tummy and eating smaller meals. However nignt and day compared to a week ago! So future people looking at this post, have hope!
28YO, M, BMI 29.
First off, I know I messed up. I take responsibility for my actions.
Got diagnosed with a fatty liver and did a My 2 year medical for work last week and I had put on 25kg since time putting me at a BMI of 29.5. I have a work out plan and boxing lesson once a week to try and lose some weight.
I have an anxiety disorder and largely around health. A few comments from friends and colleagues about my weight, and boom - the anxiety spiral began. I reacted and got a ozempic pen through alternative methods. While reading how to give the shot and watching a tutorial on how to do it. Accidentally gave myself a higher dose then I meant to. Rational brain kicked in and I threw it in the bin. Didn’t tell my partner as I was so ashamed of what I did.
I spent Saturday and Sunday violently vomiting and some from the other end too. Horrific nausea. I deserve this I know. Went to urgent care and they gave me some odansatron (zofran) which I’ve managed to eat a banana and 1 piece of toast today. But still feel like I’ve gonna puke.
What sort of timeframe do you think from your experiences till I feel better. I understand the half life is a week. Do people normally feel better after then?
Please i know i made a huge mistake, im human and my own worst enemy. My partner is very understanding now I’ve told her but to everyone else I’ve just said gastro.

On Wednesday afternoon, as I walked back to the English department building from The Corner Cafe’ with Neil’s coffee, I mentally went through the various steps I had read on-line about how to curtsy. I planned to practice later in my office as well as that evening after Brooke and Luke went to sleep. Brooke had given me a new pair white lace fashion tights that morning that I wore under my khakis. The nylon and lace combination against my skin made me feel especially submissive. And I was still wearing the damned choker for the third day in row.
I decided that women’s tights were not designed for long walks; I had to keep pulling them up and adjusting them as I walked (as inconspicuously as possible).
Neil’s door was open when I walked up. I looked around the hall to see if anyone saw me bringing in the coffee (not that they would know it wasn’t mine, although I was not known to be a big coffee drinker — I tended to favor tea or even Diet Coke for my caffeine).
“Hey, pal.”
“Hi, Neil. Here’s your coffee. I also got you a blueberry muffin. I figured you’re not an a diet, so I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Thanks. Muffins are full of carbs and empty calories. But I did swim laps for an hour this morning, so I guess it’s okay. You didn’t have one, too, did you?”
“Are you kidding? I had an apple.”
In fact, I ate my apple sitting across the table from Brooke as she enjoyed the toasted everything bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon I had prepared for her, my stomach growling. I wondered if Neil would offer to repay me for the coffee and muffin. He didn’t, that day or in the future, which surprised me. I continue to genuinely like Neil, although many things about him have turned out to surprise me. Perhaps he thought that not paying me back was all part of enhancing my knowledge of masochism or something.
“Good man. Well, we should probably close the door so you can get started.”
I closed the door. His office wasn’t very large so there was only a small area next to his desk chair for me to work.
“What if someone just comes in?,” I said.
“Everyone always knocks when the door is closed, especially when the light is on. But even if someone did, it’s not like you’re giving me a blowjob.” He laughed. “It’s just a foot massage, no big deal.”
Objectively that was true, I suppose, but I felt that was easy for him to say, as the recipient of the massage. Foot massages were happening in nail salons, spas and massage parlors throughout the country at that very moment, without any suggestion of impropriety or anything sexual. Still, at least to a masochist like me, there was just something so fundamentally submissive about the act of kneeling in front someone and massaging the lowest part of their body. Call it the dirty mind of a masochist, I guess.
And sure enough, as I got down on my knees in front of my colleague, my cock began to throb in its cage. At times such as this, I was actually grateful to be locked up. I looked up at Neil, waiting for him to take off his brown, leather shoes (Rockports, I believe). But, as he made no move to do so – I guess Luke had conditioned him to expect the full service treatment from me – I untied his laces and removed his shoes. Meanwhile, he munched on his muffin. More stomach growls of envy from me.
“Would you like me to do the massage with your socks on or off?”
“Oh, definitely off. Just the way you did it at your place.”
I removed his socks and began doing some warm-up twists, and then rubbing the arch of his right foot. While Neil’s feet did not have the chiseled appearance of Luke’s, they were not unattractive for male feet – although they definitely could use some moisturizer. I made a mental note to bring some with me next week (as much for my own comfort as his).
“Man, that feels good.” he sighed contentedly. “Three back-to-back classes are killer.”
Neil and l actually had a pleasant conversation as I worked on his feet. We spent some time discussing my book. For my chapter covering 19th and 20th century fiction, I wanted his insight on Patrick Hamilton’s novel, Hangover Square, which, while not overtly about cuckolding, was certainly about a serious male masochist. Hamilton’s protagonist essentially becomes a simp to a manipulative failed actress who he is in love with and her fascist boyfriend. Suffering from dissociative identity disorder (and alcoholism), he eventually goes on a murderous rampage against his tormentors.
Some readers of my tale may either needlessly worry, or foolishly wish, that I will go on a murderous rampage against Luke and/or Brooke. That, of course, is beyond preposterous. First, I am not mentally ill. Second, I love Brooke and, but for erotic and obsessive love, I know that she loves me. Third, the relationship I have entered into with Luke and Brooke is one I pledged to do as a condition of marrying Brooke and keeping her in my life. I did it with full free will; I stay in it with full free will. Fourth, I have enough self awareness to know that another reason that I stay in the relationship is because it satisfies some deep masochistic need in me. Brooke saw this need in me before I saw it myself (I’ve always known that she is far smarter than I). Some no doubt believe I am totally devoid of self respect and despise me for my passivity, for not taking dramatic steps to end my subjugation. I would counter that someone who resorts to violence is far more pathetic and lacking in self respect than I.
Paul and Anna are a somewhat different story, as there is an element of coercion involved. But violence as a remedy is still unthinkable to me. And I have to admit that, like Brooke, I too have been caught up in “the game.” My brain is my biggest sexual organ by far (it doesn’t have much competition, admittedly), and I’m excited (both sexually and intellectually) to see how far they will take things. You probably have to be a masochist to understand...
To those readers who are sincerely worried about me and my mental health, I say: thank you, I genuinely appreciate your concern. One never knows for sure, but I think that I’ll be okay. To those handful of judgmental readers who loathe me because I’m not doing what they believe they would do in similar circumstances, who despise me because I don’t conform to their oversimplified concept of manhood – you know who you are – by forcefully taking matters into my own hands in some dramatic manner, I say: get over yourselves. I am not you; I’m me. And I’m probably more of a man than many of you are even when I’m dressed in a garter belt, stockings and a maid’s cap, trying ineptly to curtsy to my superiors. But I digress.
Neil and I also discussed his upcoming tenure process. I assured him that he would have my full support in the consultation and subsequent letter of recommendation. I had just wrapped up his 45-minute massage with gentle squeezes to the tips of each of his toes and was about to put his socks and shoes back on his feet when there was a knock on the door. I quickly stood up and stepped to the other side of Neil’s desk.
“Come in,” said Neil.
The door opened and Paul Betz walked in. Neil’s feet were under his desk, but his shoes and socks were lying in plain view on the floor next to him. A bit odd for a cold December day. Knowing Paul as I was beginning to, I was fairly certain that it did not escape his attention.
“Hi, Professor Lawson. Professor Rollins,” he nodded at me, with a faint smile.
Hi, Paul,” said Neil warmly.
“Hi, Paul. I was just leaving,” I said.
“See you later, pal. Thanks a bunch,” said Neil, as I left the room.
Luke was back Wednesday night, and was actually in an unusually good mood, having signed a letter of intent to acquire a company in Indiana, the next frontier of his expanding empire. I cooked them grilled salmon, asparagus and wild rice, while I had a few pieces of salmon in my salad.
As I served Luke a third Yuengling and Brooke a third glass of wine, Luke said, “That was a damn good dinner, prof. I tell you what. I’m in such a good mood tonight, I’m going to let you have a glass of wine so we can all toast my new deal. Get yourself a glass.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
After I filled my glass with Pinot Gris, Brooke raised her glass and said, “To Hanover HVAC and Plumbing!” After we clinked our glasses, she said to Luke, “Ok, babe, it’s been three days, and I’m hornier than hell. Take me upstairs now, please.”
“Hold your horses, baby. Let’s finish our drinks first.”
Brooke downed her glass and said, “Okay, I’m done.”
“Think of your husband, here. He finally gets to have a drink with us and you’re rushing him.”
“Since you’re in such a good mood, babe, maybe he could join us – in bed. What do you think?”, Brooke asked him.
“Why not? Cuck, do you have any boxer shorts left?”
“Walter only wore tighty whiteys before I made him switch to panties and tights. I only let him keep two pairs of his old underwear.”
“Go, put on your tighty whiteys, prof, and we’ll meet you in the bedroom. You can take your glass of wine with you.”
Well, this was different. I went upstairs and undressed, removing the fashion tights I had been wearing all day under my pants, and put on a pair of my old underwear.
When they came upstairs, Brooke started laughing loudly when she saw me. ”I’m sorry to laugh, Walter. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve seen you in men’s underwear. Even those. It just doesn’t seem natural.” I had to admit, it did feel strange wearing them after all this time. Still, the humiliation of Brooke’s words (and her accompanying smile) caused my cock to throb.
“Kneel down and get the key from Brooke’s anklet and I’ll unlock you.”
I did as he commanded, growing instantly hard the moment he unlocked me and tenting out my tight, white cotton briefs. Meanwhile, they both stripped as well. Luke was completely naked and Brooke was naked except for a pair of white ankle socks. As much as I loved her bare feet, it was incredibly sexy to see her wearing only the socks (and the anklet). Brooke then spread lubricant all over Luke’s hardening cock as she kissed him passionately.
Luke next ordered me to lie down on the bed, and easily picked Brooke up, placing her on her knees over me at the edge of the bed. To be more precise, she faced the other direction from me and her vagina and lovely bottom were right above my neck. Standing next to the bed, he then penetrated her anally, his cock and scrotum inches above my face, causing her to moan.
“Lick my balls, cuck.”
I began licking his balls as he went in and out of Brooke. As she rocked back and forth, she used one of her hands to pull my briefs down, so that her long hair brushed tantalizingly against my liberated cock. It was a wonderful feeling. At one point, Luke pulled completely out of her, and placed his wet, glistening cock in my mouth for me to suck. I couldn’t tell if the evident moisture was the lubricant, Luke’s sweat or Brooke’s anal secretions; it was probably some combination of the three.
I was my usual conflicted self as I took him in my mouth. Humiliated, certainly. Disgusted, no doubt. But also incredibly aroused, and somewhat grateful to be included to this degree in their intimacy – which was highly unusual.
My arousal only increased when Brooke said, “Keep him hard for me.” Following her command, I sucked him with increased fervor.
Whereas I often suffer from premature ejaculation, Luke is the complete opposite. He has the ability to go on and on, and then go on longer. It leaves me in awe, to be honest. Whatever I think of his personality, his character, his politics, his taste in music, etc., I can not help but be in awe of his physical prowess and dominance. I told myself, this man, this cock – which gives my wife so much pleasure, which fulfills some primal need of hers – is worthy of worship, so you better suck it up. Figuratively as well as literally. And that’s what I did.
He next ordered me to get on my knees next to the bed. Reaching his arm under Brooke’s waist, he flipped her over like a ragdoll onto her back, and entered her vaginally.
As if reading my mind, she said, “Yeah, baby, I’m your fuck doll.”
“Lick my fuck doll’s feet, cuck.”
From my knees, I licked her feet all over, listening to her moan in ecstasy as he moved in and out of her. Because of his good mood, perhaps, Luke was less brutal with Brooke than usual. He was forceful, of course, but there was no slapping and only a little hair pulling and nipple twisting. He did tease her, however. Even though I had counted at least three orgasms, I believe she was on the precipice of her fourth, when Luke pulled out of her. He hovered above her, his cock just outside of the threshold of her pussy. She thrust her pelvis up towards it, but he lifted himself still higher, denying her.
“Please baby, I’m so close.”
“You’re are a greedy, little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, baby, I’m your greedy, little fuck doll. Please baby, please put your glorious cock back inside me.”
“But you’re getting your feet licked. What about me?”
“Walter! Lick his feet! now! Please baby, please give me more.”
I started licking Luke’s left foot, hanging off the edge of the bed, with the same intensity I had applied to Brooke’s a moment earlier. He continued to tease her, however, inserting the tip of his cock into her and then stopping.
“Oh, gawd, Luke, please. I’m begging you.” She sounded on the verge of crying.
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe if my toes were being sucked, that might motivate me.”
“Walter, suck his toes!”
So, I did, of course. Luke was clearly enjoying the power trip of tying Brooke’s pleasure to my debasement.
Suddenly, he ordered her to get up from the bed. He then sat down on it, and instructed her to sit down on his cock, but facing outwards towards me, so that her legs basically rested atop his.
“Lick your wife’s pussy.” Following his command, I licked her just above where she bounced up and down on his cock, again grateful for the intimacy. Grateful to be included, even in my subservient, supplemental role as oral servant. After she screamed out in what was obviously yet another orgasm, Luke commanded me, “Now lick my shaft.”
After another five minutes or so, during which I dutifully licked him, Luke lifted her off him, stood up and – finally ready to ejaculate – pumped his semen prodigiously onto Brooke’s face.
“Time to kiss your wife, prof.” Which I did, our lips touching through Luke’s mess.
After I cleaned up and the three of us showered, we all watched a thriller on cable, the two of them curled up together on the couch, eating the popcorn I had made. I lied down on the floor at their feet, eating my own bowl of popcorn, occasionally feeling Brooke’s socked foot tousle my hair. All in all, one of the most pleasant evenings the three of us had ever spent together – at least from my perspective. Little did I realize at the time that that would be the last time three of us would spend together for awhile and that it marked a turning point in our – or, to be more precise – in Brooke’s and Luke’s relationship.
That night after they went to sleep, I practiced curtsying in front of the mirror in my bedroom in the basement. Tomorrow was to be my first extended service to Paul and Anna, apparently with my other student, Kelly, and her boyfriend as their guests. The next step in my ever widening public humiliation.
Whether he simply forgot, in the glow of his good mood, or was feeling particularly generous, Luke did not lock me back up that evening. I rubbed myself through my panties as I lay down in bed that night, too timid to actually masturbate lest Luke suddenly realize what he had overlooked.
The combination of my unsatisfied arousal and my anxiety about the next day prevented me from sleeping well that night. Luke was already gone when I woke up the next morning. Brooke was still asleep when I brought her cup of coffee up to the bedroom. I noticed my chastity cage on the floor next to the bed, and quietly took it downstairs to my bedroom, hoping she would forget about it.
She, in fact, did. It is testimony to how muddled my brain had become that I thought that was a good thing at the time. Normally, it would have been, of course. But it wasn’t until the snarky doorman gave me permission to go upstairs – after again announcing myself as the maid – that I realized how fraught with potential danger my situation really was. Because on our prior two meetings, my cock had been locked safely away. This time, I belatedly realized, my cock would be available as another toy for my students to play with, a toy they could use to control and humiliate me like they never had before.
And that, too, is exactly what they did.

There is something wrong with my family.
When I walked through the door after spending two days at a slumber party, the house smelled of… bacon.
Holy shit.
Mom was actually cooking dinner.
Which was crazy because Mom never cooked dinner.
She was either at work, locked in her home office on the ground floor, or in her room complaining of a migraine.
We never ate Mom’s cooking because she never cooked for us.
My brother Fitz once joked she would cook us an Excel spreadsheet, or throw her iPhone in the air fryer to make a stew.
He was almost right.
A few months ago, Mom microwaved her iPad.
We weren't really an eating together type of family. Sure, we had the white picket fence and family SUV.
We greeted our neighbours every day with nuclear family smiles. Mom was the head of her book club on her days off, and Dad worked in an office. From the outside, we were your average Brady Bunch. My best friend had even commented on it. “Ruby, your family is so close! I wish mine were like yours!”
Close couldn't have been further from the truth.
Keeping up appearances is all we had to do in front of the locals.
I smiled my biggest smile and wore my hair in a perfect ponytail.
Fitz and Cassie followed suit, playing their part as nuclear children.
That is what Mom wanted us to be. However, our dollhouse wasn't as perfect as perceived. Inside our so-called forever home, we were a disconnected group of lodgers.
Mom barely spoke to us, and when she did, she was enforcing yet another rule.
Don't go into the living room unsupervised. Don't go into the basement. Don't eat food outside of the kitchen. Don't wear your shoes inside.
Mom had different rules tailored to each of us.
For me, I wasn't allowed electronics after 8pm.
Fitz, who was one year older, had a set curfew of 9pm.
Cassie could only eat fruit and vegetables on Wednesday.
Snacks, candy, and chocolate were banned for all of us.
We weren't even allowed to sit on the living room couch. Mom was terrified of us ruining it, so we had beanbags.
When I first got a whiff of bacon, I was convinced either our house was burning down, or my brother had finally gotten tired of his Uber Eats diet.
Fitz wasn't a cook, though.
Christmas 2019, his turkey dinner gave us all food poisoning.
I was slipping out of my shoes and hanging up my jacket, when a familiar voice tinkered from the kitchen.
“Ruby, sweetie? I’m making dinner if you're hungry!”
It smelled amazing, whatever it was.
I was in disbelief, walking into the kitchen to find my Mom standing over a bubbling pan.
“Can you set the table, honey?”
Fitz and Cassie joined us, followed by Dad.
“Smells good, Mom!” Fitz jumped into his seat with a grin.
Which was definitely odd for him. Normally, the guy took 5 working days to sit down.
Cassie slid past me, ruffling my hair. “Hey, sis!”
My family were acting different in general. Cassie was unusually smiley, not the bratty teenager she usually was, while my brother dropped his patronising smirk and I'm better than you attitude, for a more laid back vibe.
Usually, my brother and sister were insufferable.
Cassie always had to bring up how much she hated all of us.
Fitz wouldn't rest until he had the last word, and Dad’s face was beet red.
Now, it was like they'd had a personality purge.
Fitz caught my eye, his lips curling into a smile.
“Yo.” He saluted me with two fingers, which was not my brother.
Fitz Setori greeted me with a scowl or a pretentious movie quote.
Before I left for the slumber party, he wouldn't shut up about a black and white French movie only he had seen. If Cassie and I liked a movie, he hated it. If he liked something, Fitz made sure we didn't like it.
My brother’s wardrobe was like he was trying to cosplay Sherlock Holmes, and I still didn't understand how he had friends at school. The thing with my siblings was, I missed them. It used to be the three of us versus the world (and our dictator-like mother). But since starting high school, Fitz had turned into this pretentious film freak with an obsession with being right, and Cassie was sixteen going on twenty one.
Presently, my brother’s demeanour was more relaxed, not the stiff uptight bullshit he usually was, always trying to get ahead of the conversation and prove himself right. In the corner of my eye, I could have sworn something flashed, a bright light filling the edges of my vision, like a polaroid was being taken.
Fitz didn't notice. Leaning over the table, he stabbed his fork into my steak, speaking through a mouthful of mashed potato. “Are you eating this?”
I shook my head, watching in disbelief as he took my whole plate, inhaling my food too.
Cassie, who was always glued to her phone, gave him a playful shove.
Well, that was weird.
The two of them couldn't go one day without trying to rip each other's heads off. I don't know what baffled me more.
Seeing my siblings sitting together, shoulder to shoulder instead of avoiding each other like the plague, or the fact that Cassie was yet to announce that she hated all of us, and couldn't wait until college. Which usually followed with Fitz saying, “What college?” and ending up with a face full of food.
But it didn't end there.
Because, when they were sent to their rooms, they continued, snapping at each other with passive aggressive remarks until they were physically trying to murder one another. The craziest part is, the two of them used to be so close.
If Cassie didn't throw a death threat at Fitz, it wasn't a normal Seteri dinner.
Now, I was watching them nudge each other like they knew something I didn't.
“Okay, what happened while I was away?” I spoke up, toying with my fork.
“Hmm?” Mom settled me with a smile. “What do you mean?”
I bit my tongue, waiting for Dad to intervene with a cough.
When we did eat together, which was rare, Dad wasn't a fan of talking at the table. When I risked a look at him, though, Dad was happily chewing through his meal. He caught my eye, grinning through steak juices running down his chin. “Isn't it a wonderful day?”
He nodded for me to continue, a crunching noise twisting my gut.
Dad was grinding through the steak bones.
He stopped, slowly inclining his head. “Ruby, are you okay, darling?”
I felt my fingers tighten around my fork.
Dad never called me darling.
He made it clear I wasn't the favorite child, making little effort with me when I was a kid in favour of Fitz and Cassie.
It was always those two who he spent time with. I remember sitting outside the basement door with cookies, waiting for Cassie and Fitz to come back up the stairs. They were down there for hours, sometimes a whole day.
The only bonding I did with my father was when I snuck down there myself.
Dsd was always working, so I stuck around, usually spinning around in his chair or poking things I shouldn't poke.
I was still struggling to process darling, mashed potato creeping back up my throat, when Fitz kicked me under the table. His smile was unnerving me, the way he and Cassie kept grinning at each other, like they knew something I didn't.
It was just like when we were kids.
Fitz was trembling, trying and failing to hold in laughter.
“What's going on, Ruby?” He choked, before bursting into childlike giggles.
Cassie joined in, her smile stretching wider and wider.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
Too many teeth.
“We never have dinner together,” I said pointedly, glancing at Mom. “Unless you're impressing a work colleague.”
I turned to Fitz. “You barely come out of your room, and when you do you're insufferable.” Fitz only smirked, and I moved onto Cassie, who wasn't fooling me with her innocent smile with far too many teeth. “And you only come downstairs when you want something.”
There was a pause, before Fitz exploded into laughter.
Cassie started giggling, and to my confusion, even Mom was trying to hide her smile.
My rule obsessed, fun-hating mother was barely holding in her own hysterics.
Dad wasn't laughing.
Dad was still fucking grinding bones between his teeth.
I stood up, which made my brother howl harder.
“What's so funny?”
My family didn't respond, snorting like middle schoolers.
I snatched my plate up from Fitz.
“You're all fucking sociopaths.”
I waited for the inevitable chastising for swearing. I stubbed my toe a few weeks ago, accidentally saying, fuck and Mom almost had a nervous breakdown.
She said my vulgar language was a problem that would be solved by taking away my phone for a week. But this time, Mom didn't even notice. She was still eating, stifling her own snickers.
I was planning on heading to my room, but I couldn't help it, making a detour down the hallway.
Dad always told me to look at the teeth.
Too many teeth was bad.
Too many teeth meant something was wrong.
Mom immediately noticed, her shadow following me.
Another flash of light behind me, and this time I could hear a shutter sound.
“Ruby, where are you going?”
Twisting around, my mother was smiling at me. I blinked, and the hallway I had known my whole life suddenly appeared warped, like it wasn't real, like it was slowly closing in on me, and my destination was getting further away.
With panic rising in my chest, my hands searched for a door that was no longer there, bleeding into the wallpaper. Another flash. This time it was brighter, filling the dark with light that didn't make sense, a blinding white blur fraying the edges of my vision.
But where was the camera?
“Ruby.”
I blinked again.
Mom was standing closer, her smile wider.
“Is there something wrong?”
I found my voice. “What was that light?”
Mom did a slow head incline, mimicking my brother. “What light?”
I was growing progressively more paranoid, my hands shaking.
“Is someone taking photos of me?” I whispered.
Mom’s plastic grin didn't waver. “Photos? What do you mean, sweetie?”
I managed to shake my head, pushing past her.
“Nothing.” I said, “I'm okay. I'm just tired.”
Mom nodded, and I could hear Fitz giggling behind me.
When I looked, however, there was nobody there.
Still, my brother’s shrieks of laughter followed me all the way to my room.
Only stopping when I slammed the door.
4:01am.
There was a figure standing in my doorway. I thought it was a trick of the mind, but no, there was someone standing inside my room, peeking through their hands. For a disorienting moment, I was frozen. I couldn't move.
“Fitz?”
When I sat up, I was blinded by that same light, the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter filling the silence.
The figure didn't have a face, a shadow hanging over my bed. But looking closer, it did have wide, laughing eyes peeking through its fingers. Keeping my gaze glued to the figure, who was very slowly uncovering its eyes like playing a game of peek-a-boo, I reached to switch on the light.
The shadow ran away, though I definitely saw my brother’s dark red hair.
I didn't sleep well that night. I kept waking up.
The laughing had stopped, but I could still see Fitz’s unmoving shadow.
His feet under the door.
All night.
Obviously, I called him out on it the next morning.
“What were you doing last night?” I demanded, trying to force down toast.
Fitz acted oblivious, because of course he did.
“What did I do?” he teased, wearing that smirk I wanted to carve off of his face.
“You stood outside my door all night!”
Fitz chuckled into his glass of juice. “You caaaaaaan’t prove it.”
Mom was yet to get ready for work, eating cereal from the box.
She was halfway through a bottle of wine when I came down for breakfast, laughing hysterically at a refrigerator commercial.
Usually, my mother was gone before I woke up. Not to mention, we weren't allowed to eat cereal for breakfast.
It was always health food crap.
“Mom.” I gritted out.
Cassie was making coffee behind us, joining in with the theatrics.
My sister hated coffee.
“Mom!” I yelled, when my brother winked at me.
Mom ignored my complaints, kissing the rim of her glass. “Be a doll, and go get Mommy’s favorite vino from the basement,” she downed the rest of her wine, tipping her head back and blowing strands of hair from her eyes.
“You know,” she sighed, “The expensive one.”
“Don't you have a job to go to?” I glanced at my phone. “It's almost eight.”
“Mmm.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Maybe later.”
My workaholic mother who went to work with gastritis, and had even forced Fitz to go to school with the flu, was acting like a drunken teenage girl.
Mom’s whole life revolved around perfect attendance.
She scanned our report cards for tardies, threatening our phone privileges if we were a minute late for class.
Suddenly, I was the one who felt like a mother.
“Mom, you need to go to work.”
“Yeah, Mom!” Fitz mocked my voice, leaning his chin on his fist. “You need to go to work!”
Mom settled me with a patient smile. I thought she would get mad, though she seemed amused. “Mommy wants a drink, darling. Fetch me the wine.”
I nodded, standing up.
Anything to get away from these psychopaths.
My siblings' laughter followed me, once again, out of the kitchen.
Down the hallway.
Before stopping abruptly, when I stepped in front of the basement door.
Reaching out with shaking hands, I grasped the handle.
I hadn't been down to the basement in a while for a number of reasons.
Heading down stone cold steps, I used my phone light to navigate the darkness. I remembered the exact way I used to jump down them as a kid, two at a time, squeezing the handrail tightly.
Sometimes, Cassie joined me, the two of us holding hands.
I recalled the time we used to run up and down the Miller family stairs.
Cassie and I would sing a song, the two of us giggling nervously.
One step, two step, three step, four.
I can hear a human knocking on the floor!
There was no sign of my mother’s expensive vino when I stepped inside the Setori family basement. It was exactly how I remembered it, a single observation bed, my Dad’s desk filled with research. I wasn't supposed to look at them, because it was dangerous.
Instead, I focused on the strange looking machines and rows of metal shelves filled with an assortment of jars.
When he was fifteen, Fitz opened one up.
He didn't tell me what was in it, but he was violently sick for days.
Further into the basement, I could sense their shuddering breaths.
”Do not look, Ruby.” Dad always told me.
But I couldn't help it, risking a glance, the breath catching in my throat.
Five slumped figures, each of them brutally tied back to back under a single buzzing bulb.
My parents’ prisoners.
Riley and Connor Setori with their teenage children Fitz and Cassie, and then of course, the girl who made me.
The reason why I was alive and breathing.
Ruby Setori.
I want to preface this by saying it was never my choice that I became Ruby.
Dad was insistent, and as a kid, I followed my parents.
My family and I were born in a lab as Mimics.
There were three Mimic families, though we were the only survivors. I've only ever known mimicking, and being forced from person to person. It's kind of like shape shifting, but we need human bodies and voices to survive.
Human voices make us real.
My siblings were born after me, but something was wrong with them.
I don't really remember it, but I used to live in a white room with sponge walls.
Fitz and Cassie were in the room next to me. The people in white spoke of failures and more tests, and my brother was so weak, while my sister was spitting up blood. They concluded that their original forms were dying.
A default body for a mimic is a faceless being with no discernable features, a shadow you swear you see in the corner of your vision, what you think is a trick of the mind. With my old body, I could explore the darkness and creep into the corner of any human’s eye. I started to get better. Voices were hard at first.
You have to get the exact tone, and once you have that, you can latch onto the body and brain. My first successful mimic was a scientist named Doctor Carlisle.
His voice didn't make sense to me, but I was able to replicate it and use it to my advantage. When we escaped the lab, my father broke into the Miller house.
I was too young to really understand, but my Mom urged me to mimic their youngest daughter.
Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was a lot more comfortable to mimic.
I spent 8 years being Elizabeth Miller, before we were forced to relocate.
The family we were impersonating were growing suspicious of us, and my brother was getting progressively sicker. He couldn't acclimatise to a body. The Miller son almost killed him, and he only embodied the kid’s voice.
The Setori household is where we struck gold.
Fitz Setori, sitting in front of me, blindfolded, was my brother’s saving grace.
When I was twelve years old, my parents kidnapped the Setori family and forced them into their own basement, immediately stealing their faces.
I remember Ruby Setori sitting cross legged on the floor, her wide eyes filled with tears.
Dad said I had to talk to her to form the connection. When she refused to talk back, my father was forceful.
Our first conversation was me mimicking her sobs, her throaty cries for me to get away from her.
With Ruby’s voice, I asked her questions.
Mom told me I had to talk to her, before the bond was severed.
“What's your favorite color?” I asked, swirling her voice around my mouth.
“What did you do to my family?” Ruby squeaked.
I looked at my dad for help, and he shook his head.
“Ask her again.”
I took a deep breath. “What is your favorite color?”
“Pink.” She whispered.
“Pink.” I repeated, leaning closer.
“Please.” Ruby said. “Please don't hurt me.”
“Please.” I said, clinging onto her tone, the exact indentation in her speech.
She cocked her head, and I did too.
“Please don't hurt me.”
“I'm not going to.” I told her, when the invisible ribbon binding us together tightened, entangling. This time I was speaking over her. My face became Ruby Setori. Thick brown hair and wide eyes, lips parted in a silent cry.
“I promise I'm not going to hurt you.”
Ruby stared at me like I was a monster.
She shrieked, stumbling back, only to be forced back into place by my mother.
Dad told me mimicking had three stages.
Voice.
Body.
Mind.
I already had Ruby’s voice, and I was wearing her face.
Her memories hit me like a tidal wave, warm and cosy.
I saw her perfect family, all of her friends, growing up behind a white picket fence and a fluffy dog called Cosmo. Ruby liked orange soda and ice cream. She was smart at math, but got her words mixed up. She loved elephant plushies and the Disney channel.
The human girl was scared of the dark, scared of what lurked in the dark.
Scared of me.
I wanted to tell her I wasn't a monster.
“Ruby.” I whispered, “I'm sorry.”
She didn't move, and something slimy erupted up my throat.
Ruby’s expression was frozen in terror, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide.
“Ru… by.” The girl’s voice was a strangled cry. “I’m… s… ooooorry.”
I lurched back, swallowing a cry.
Ruby Setori was mimicking me.
Which was the final stage.
I went through it as a little kid, but I was too young to remember assimilating with Elizabeth Miller.
My brother's assimilation was different, and a lot more brutal.
Fitz Setori did not want to have his face and voice stolen.
He escaped four times, attacking my mother, despite her wearing his own Mom’s face. My brother was gentle, kneeling in front of him and speaking in soft tones. My sister and I watched from the corner of the room, too scared to go near the unpredictable human boy.
“Hello.” My brother was too sick to stand. “Can you… tell me your name?”
Fitz spat at him.
“Fuck you.” The fourteen year old hissed, “You're not taking my voice.”
“Fuck… you.” My brother mimicked, already taking hold of the boy’s tone.
Fitz shuffled back. “Get away from me!”
“Get… away… from me.” My brother copied.
His nose wasn't bleeding this time, and very slowly, he adapted Fitz’s face.
It took a while, and a lot of screaming and crying.
I didn't want to watch, but I was also curious about how human children were supposed to act. I was never in a stable body enough to fully adapt to emotions. Fitz was feeling panic and fear and anger, all of which I decided to copy.
But my brother did manage to mimic Fitz Setori.
Mr and Mrs Setori begged my parents to let their children go.
But my dad needed the Setori kids. For our survival.
Cassie and I sang another song, this time to block out the screaming.
My family took over the Setori household, and slid into our roles as the not quite perfect family on the quiet suburban street. Growing up, Dad insisted on daily tests to make sure our bonds with the Setori siblings were still intact. We were forbidden from talking to them.
Presently, I couldn't stop myself.
There was something wrong with my family.
And I had zero doubts the family had something to do with it.
Dad had drawn a line on the basement floor.
We were acquired to stay behind the line, unless we wanted to be grounded until college.
Stepping over it, I shivered, my bare feet grazing warm blood pooling across the floor. Mom and Dad were always protective over the basement. They told us the Setori family were safe and unharmed. But that was hard to believe even my parents resented humans for creating them, and torturing them.
What my parents did to the human was a whole other level of torture.
Especially the adults.
Mr and Mrs Setoti had been in a medically induced coma for almost four years. Their heads were bowed, plastic tubes sticking directly into their skull.
Cassie Setori was awake. I could hear her breathing.
She was pretending to be out of it.
Fitz Setori had been fixed by my father a year ago.
Dad said his behavior was too ‘dangerous’.
One minute the boy was screaming and threatening, and the next, he was silent, drool seeping down his chin, head tipped back, blinking at the ceiling.
The fixing was in case Fitz ever managed to gain control of my brother.
When I crouched in front of the Setori siblings, I felt a deep, twisting guilt eating me up inside.
They were barely human anymore, stripped of their terrestrial bodies, atoms and static and a shadow of what once was. The blood made me nauseous, splattering their arms and legs and clothes they were growing out of.
Ruby’s hair was almost at a Rupunzal length. I wanted to see the good in that, maybe call her a princess, though maybe she was more of a Sleeping Beauty, forced into slumber.
Fitz had aged way beyond his age, bearded like his father.
Cassie’s pigtails were touching the floor.
I pretended not to see the restraints cruelly binding their wrists, the burn marks branding them as ours.
The three were skeletal, pale and malnourished.
Humans who were anything but.
My stomach twisted when I peeked under Cassie’s blindfold.
Her right eye was gone, scooped out of its socket.
Dad didn't have to hurt them.
He didn't have to tie them up.
But I know what humans are like.
They are scary and unpredictable and will murder their own kind.
I did try to talk to them before Dad fixed the Setori son.
Fitz, Cassie and me.
The Setori siblings told us we were dead.
That they were going to kill us slowly, an painfully.
By slicing their own throats.
Fitz tried to argue that it wasn't us who did this.
Only for his original to call him a piece of shit.
Ever since then, Mom put a lock on the basement door.
I was trying to loosen Ruby’s ropes, ignoring my father’s earlier warning, when a familiar light filled the room.
A camera flash.
When I stumbled to my feet, I was alone.
A giggle caught me off guard.
It was Ruby Setori herself, her lips split into a grin.
“Can we play a game?” She asked.
Her voice was made of static, barely a whisper.
The girl wasn't supposed to have her voice.
My voice.
I held my breath. I had to be tactical with my speech.
“What did you do to my family?”
“I have a better question,” she said, growing stronger. She lifted her head. I could hear her straining against the ropes. “What's your favorite color?”
“Pink.” I said. “What did you do to my family?”
In the corner of my eye, I detected movement.
There was something at the other end of the room.
Twitching.
“What about your favorite TV show?” Ruby asked, leaning forward. “You must have one. Maybe it's even mine!”
It was hers, and she knew that.
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” I said, my mouth filling with blood.
Just like Dad said, our bond was severing.
If I continued to talk to her, I risked detaching from her completely.
Ruby Setori wanted her voice back.
“I love Buffy!” The girl’s smile was, dare I think, genuine.
“How about we talk about your brother? Is he doing okay, Ruby? Is he acting…“
She paused, sucking her teeth. “Kinda weird?”
Upstairs, I could hear Fitz’s laughter getting louder and louder.
“Please.” Ruby was mimicking her younger self.
Even blindfolded, I could see the gleam in her eyes.
“What did you do to my family?”
Her words forced me into action.
I prodded Fitz Setori, only for his head to hang.
Unconscious.
There was dried blood under his nose, a slimy ooze of black.
Prying open his mouth, I checked his teeth.
Too many.
Just like Cassie, a whole new row of spiky incisors were pushing through.
Dad was hurting them.
He was torturing them.
Turning them into something.
My quivering hands found a needle sticking into the back of his head, colorful wires protruding into his skin.
There was a clear fluid being pumped into the three of them.
If Dad was experimenting on the Setori family, was it affecting us too?
“Well?” Ruby demanded, her voice twisting, contorting into that of a monster.
“What did you DO to my FAMILY?”
Instead of answering her, I forced my legs to move toward the movement on the other side of the room. There was something piled on the floor, jerking in sharp movements, a slimy mess of inside out flesh. It hit me when I was closer.
The bodies entangled with each other, some of them headless, others missing arms and distinct facial features, were me. Dozens of Ruby Setori’s both made of buzzing static and terrestrial flesh, covered in a slimy, blood tinged substance, like these things were being born. Not made.
I think I was sick. All over myself.
Another blinding flash hit the corner of my eye, and in front of me, another thing was slowly forming, first static, growing into skin, a body moulded and sculpted into existence.
This Ruby had no eyes, no arms, her limbs contorted like doll pieces. I was aware I was staggering back, slipping in what looked and felt like part of a placenta.
The Setori siblings were making copies of me.
My gaze found one singular version of me who was almost perfect.
Except her enlarged brain expanding Through the skull.
And these replicas were getting better by the minute.
“Ruby!”
Mom shouted from upstairs. “Did you get my wine?”
I left the basement, my heart in my throat.
Upstairs, my brother and sister were giggling.
And downstairs in the basement, the Setori siblings were laughing harder.
Three nights since I spoke to Ruby, and the copies of me are getting better.
One of them managed to walk upstairs yesterday.
I think the siblings are slowly making another version of their sister.
I want to talk to her. I want to know what she's doing to my family.
But I can't talk to her.
If I do, I lose Ruby Setori.
Mom and Dad play peek-a-boo with me every night.
They're behind every door, their hands covering their faces.
Cassie is eating meat raw from the refrigerator.
Fitz is getting better at crawling under my door.
And the laughter in the basement is getting louder.
Please help me. I'm so scared of my own family.
I don't think the Setori’s were my parent’s best choice after all.

Scriptbin
Note: This script is fine for the recorder to monetize and edit genders or other words. I will only ask for script credit, thank you!
() is for sound effects or actions
\Italics** are for emphasis/tone when speaking
... is for a pause, usually when it's the listener's turn to "reply" to a line.
Summary:
"...I genuinely adore the time we spend together. It’s truly beautiful, the moments we share."
Your shy crush has been in love with you for the longest time, but has had trouble showing it. A small act of jealousy and a dinner date gives you both the push to become an actual couple.
Script Below:
Hey, roomie. Do you mind if I come in? I wanna talk to you about something.
…
Thanks. Your door’s already open so I figured you were free to talk. I’ll just sit on your bed with you then. We’ll have a perfectly normal conversation, nothing too weird. I promise.
…
I feel kind of tense, so once I begin talking to you I know I’ll start feeling a little better. It’s just an odd feeling, like there’s a lot of invisible pressure on me.
…
Yeah… yeah. I’m taking my time. I’m happy that you’re so patient with me. You’re a great friend. But alright, let me explain.
…
I don’t know if you remember this since it was a few weeks ago but… there was this girl you were talking to over the phone. And, well, there’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but it seemed like you were having a lot of fun with her. Genuinely laughing your butt off, I didn’t even know you could be that noisy. But it’s less about you, it's more about the girl.
…
No, it’s fine, I don’t need you to introduce me to her. I’m not really good with meeting people anyway. Remember how bad it was when I first moved in? It took me like half the day to say “hi” to you. I felt so bad since you were so friendly to me, and you still are.
…
“That was a long time ago, don’t worry about it?” I guess you’re right, it’s water under the bridge. But anyway, about that girl…
…
Do you have feelings for her? Like, do you love her? Does she make your heart flutter? I’m only wondering since…
…
I-I know it’s a little sudden to ask, but I need to get some closure on this. You know how it is. I want to know everything about this. Everything about her, everything about your feelings for her, and everything about you two being together. It’s super important to me. Since you’re my friend first, roommate second.
…
She’s an old colleague, but you guys don’t love each other? When I walked past you both the other day, she seemed kind of romantic. You caught onto that too, right? Kind of like she wanted to make a move.
…
No, wait, hear me out! It’s not stalking! Stop saying that. I didn’t mean to, it was purely coincidental. Following you across town was just an… ‘accident’ which then turned into something fruitful. Y-you’ll get over it, right?
…
My point is, I saw her acting a little too friendly and it made me feel all sorts of things. Mad, maybe? I know neither of you did anything wrong, but that romantic scenario keeps popping into my head. Especially when she hugged you. That really got to me for some reason.
…
I guess I am a little jealous. But, I can’t just allow you to be whisked away by some other person. It’s… it’s unforgivable. I’m sorry about how assertive I am about all this, usually I wouldn’t say a thing about it, but this felt different to me. Like I was losing a part of myself. Or that I was losing you.
…
It’s not your fault, you don’t have to feel guilty. I was just overthinking it, then I began exaggerating what was going on, then I felt all awkward about it. I know I said at the start that things would be casual and simple, but I think I messed that up, didn’t I?
…
\dejected** I think I messed this whole thing up. I only wanted to keep being your friend but I might’ve made things worse…
(Listener hugs the speaker to comfort them. It makes the speaker a little shocked)
Wh-what are you doing? We’ve never hugged before…
…
But… okay. Please comfort me. Hold onto me a bit longer. It’s so warm.
…
I know this is a little selfish of me to ask but… could you promise me something? Promise me that we’ll always be close. I’m trying to be better emotionally, for you. It’s been hard but I’m working on it. I feel like I’m making a little bit of progress every now and then, and it’s because you’re willing to bring me out of my comfort zone to try new things.
…
Mm, good. I’m happy to hear you say that. I’d ask for a pinkie promise but you kind of have your arms wrapped around me. I’ll remember this hug, though.
(Speaker’s stomach growls)
Y-yes, that was my stomach growling. Please don’t point it out, it’s embarrassing.
…
So, um. I didn’t really eat any food today, I was waiting for you to order something or cook dinner, since I usually eat whatever you eat. But I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea when I skipped breakfast as well. I was just so worried about you and that girl that it made me forget about a decent meal. Sorry.
…
I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth. Do you have something in the fridge, maybe? Some leftovers would be perfect right now.
…
\surprised** What? Are you serious? You actually want to take me out to dinner? That’s so thoughtful. I’ve never had someone take me out before, so you’ll be my first! I’ve only ever had dinner with my family or alone, because it was simple and it made me comfortable. I think I’ll feel the same way with you.
…
Mhm, sure. I’ll get dressed right now. I think I know the perfect one.
(Brief pause, the speaker is getting dressed for the dinner date)
How does this look? I had bought it for a party, but I chickened out at the last minute. It’s good for now, right? \chuckles**
…
You’re giving me too many compliments! I’m not familiar with this much praise. I hope I was pretty before I put this on, you know.
…
I was pretty before, but now I look sexy? Oh my god, you’re so forward with this stuff. Why are compliments so easy for you? What am I even supposed to say? My face is getting all red and I don’t know what to do.
…
E-enough with the sweet words. Let’s just go to the restaurant.
(The speaker and listener take a seat at the restaurant, while some soft, ambient music plays in the background)
I’m surprised with how nice this place is. It’d be good if I went out more often, huh? I would be able to see all sorts of places with you.
…
Yeah, I know work makes that kind of tricky. But, when you have time, of course. I’m not good at proving it, but I genuinely adore the time we spend together. It’s truly beautiful, the moments we share.
…
That sounded romantic? Well, I was watching a few rom coms last week. Maybe it rubbed off on me. You seem flustered by it though. Do you have any idea how much you flirt with me in comparison? What goes around, comes around. \chuckles**
…
Hey, the waiter’s coming. Can you order for us both, please? Talking to them is gonna make me faint.
…
Thanks. And look, they gave us a bread basket. Wanna have a ‘toast,’ roomie? Get it? Because there’s bread. Okay, no more jokes from me.
…
Alright, sorry. I’m not that funny but I had to give it a shot. You smirked a little though, so I’ll take it. I’m gonna try some of this bread.
…
It’s so tasty. I’d love to stockpile the fridge at home with this. But then I’d eat too much, so maybe not. I should probably take your advice and wait for the main course. Do you think if we take this to go, it’ll get stale?
…
“Maybe?” So it’s like a 50% chance. I’m kind of tempted to do it, then. I’ll make up my mind when we’re almost done here.
(The waiter returns with the food the speaker and listened ordered)
Those chefs are fast, aren't they? I thought it’d take longer for our food to come. I’m not complaining or anything, just a little impressed. Let’s see how the pasta tastes.
…
You… want to feed me? Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, scandalous? No, it’s not that I don’t want you to do it! But I’m so embarrassed to say yes. That’s something mainly couples do. And we’ve always been friends, but not at that stage, right? Or maybe we are at that point and I can’t even tell since I’m so awkward with feelings and—
…
Okay, okay, I’ll eat it. Less talking. Ahhh~
…
Wait, did I eat it with your fork? Jeez, now I’m worried if it was an indirect kiss.
…
You love me, so it doesn’t matter? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that. A few months, at least. I kept wondering and wondering but it felt like I would have to make the first move, and I don’t know if I’ve made it obvious, but it would be hard for me to do that. So I kept hoping you’d push some of your affection my way, and it finally paid off.
…
Yes, I definitely love you back. You take up all the time in my head, darling. Those soft, kind acts you do sometimes make me feel so desirable. I’m grateful for that.
…
I-I’ve been wanting to call you “darling” for a while, that’s okay, right? I have a few other ones in mind too. Sweetie, baby, honey, dearest… cutie pie, angel… Sorry, I just remember a lot of these from memory. I’ll stick with darling for now.
…
I’m glad you think it’s cute. Should we have dessert? I’m kind of full so maybe another time.
…
Mm, that sounds about right. I think we should split the bill, since we’re a couple now. It’d make sense. Then we can go home and enjoy the rest of our evening. Oh, but before that, there’s another thing I’ve always wanted to do.
(Speaker kisses listener on the cheek)
It’s just a cheek kiss, but it’s my first. I can’t believe I’m able to do that now. I’m so excited to be with you. Now, let’s go home, shall we?

January, February, and March Money Diaries.
Section One: Assets and Debt
Retirement Balance = $21,273.17
Consolidated via rollover IRA.
HSA Balance = $3843.82
The hospital added a contribution for this year.
HYSA Balance = $3500.00
$2000 emergency, $1500 true expenses.
General Savings Balance = $721
Checking Account Balance = $707.34
Credit Card Debt = $16,105.64
Personal Loan Debt = $19,258.89
Student Loan Debt = $275,813.97
Section Two: Income
Income Progression: I have been working in my field for one year, my starting salary was $95,000.
The sister hospital director has three open psychologist positions and invited me for an interview day. I agreed and really liked two departments. The sister hospital director said the preliminary feedback was good, asked me for additional references, and said they had several candidate interviews before making a decision. I sent references and a thank you and am waiting. The lateral move director said she would support whatever I decide. I’d have to decide between a lengthy commute or relocating.
Main Job Monthly Take Home = $4710.88
Taxes/Social Security/Medicare = $1820.48
401k = $350.82
Reduced due to employer match changes.
Vision Insurance = $8.18
Dental Insurance = $30.34
HSA = $200
Supplemental Aflac Coverages = $89.16
Dropped a coverage I don’t need.
Additional Income = $2121
Tax refund!
Section Three: Expenses
Rent = $1200
Renters insurance = $103.67, paid biannually
Savings contribution = $2121
HYSA bucket for an emergency ($800), HYSA bucket for true expenses ($600), and general savings for future commute or relocation ($721) I saved my entire tax refund for the first time ever. Strange feeling.
Credit Card = $150
Personal Loan = $399.87
Student Loan = $0
CFPB resolved my complaint and Mohela has me on SAVE. I'm on administrative forbearance while the transfer to DOE is processed.
Donations/volunteer hours = $97
Trying to come to terms with not being able to donate when this video validated the significance of small regular donations.
Electric = $54.92
Gas Heat = $56.34
Water = $25
Internet = $99
Current promotion, $20 off.
Cellphone = $38.68
Used cell as a hot spot.
Hulu = $2.99
Philo with Starz = $30
Amazon Prime = $139, paid annually
Chocolate of the Month = $75
Flower of the Month = $75
Wine of the Month = $130
Car insurance = $341.61, paid biannually
Gas = $65
Car maintenance = $36.88
Food = $604.67
Household supplies = $85.65
HaiNails/Spa services = $296.55
Clothing/Shoes = $64.15
Professional development expenses = $216
Entertainment = $60.85
Money Diary
Sunday
7am - Awake, lazy stretch, quiet reflection, and reading.
7:45am - Get up, put on the tea kettle, unload dishwasher. Make a chai tea latte.
9am - Curl up with chai tea latte and Grey’s Anatomy reruns. Swallow vitamins and ponder breakfast. Back to Grey’s Anatomy.
Noon - Load the washer, scrub the toilet, pull out veggies to defrost, and prep fresh veggies.
1:30pm - Desire to do nothing and settle on Don’t Worry Darling.
4pm - That was a virtual reality version of The Handmaid’s Tale. Shower with full face and foot routine.
5pm - Dress, head to the corner store for food ($44.19), big box grocer for cleaners ($15.86), and overpriced grocer for remaining items ($39.49).
6:30pm - Home, unload groceries, finish meal prep, load washer, and assemble charcuterie for dinner.
7:30pm - Curl up, noshing, and Role Play. Not sure Kaley Cuoco can do action.
9pm - Weird gaps in the story line and Kaley Cuoco’s not right. Buy a ticket to a play ($60.85).
10pm - Make donations ($97).
10:30pm - Hair oiling and foot cream massage.
12:15am - Lights out, curl up under weighted blanket with a meditation.
Total = $257.39
Monday
5am - Awake, light stretch, put on the tea kettle, and turn on the computer.
5:30am - Sipping tea and unmotivated. Check out videos on joy.
6:45am - Prep for work.
7:15am - Tired of the cold, commute.
7:30am - Overnight oats, reading emails, and lateral move supervisor is out all day.
8am - Work day begins with training videos.
10am - Patients.
11am - Unproductive meeting.
Noon - Pesto salad, The Financial Diet videos.
1pm - Patients.
3pm - Another unproductive meeting.
4:30pm - Paperwork.
5pm - Escape! Annoyed by all the road construction, stop for gas ($40).
5:30pm - Home, put stuff away, and prep for work.
6pm - Starving. Chips and salsa with iced tea. Sucked into a random teen drama.
7:30pm - That was weird. Switch to Grey’s Anatomy reruns and check emails. Renew a membership ($216).
11:30pm - Everything off, curl up under weighted blanket, set alarm, meditation app, and lights out.
Total = $256
Tuesday
5am - Turn off the alarm, stretch, turn on the computer, and put on the tea kettle.
5:30am - Study time and sip tea.
6:45am - Enjoy funny memes, prep for work.
7:15am - Commute and notice how normal my lack of excitement about going to work is.
7:30am - Overnight oats, reading emails, and wonder for the zillionth time what I’m doing with my life.
8am - Work day begins with patient prep and paperwork.
10am - Meetings on policies that don’t pertain to me.
11:30am - More paperwork.
Noon - Pesto salad and Money With Katie videos. Lateral move psychologists pass my office without inviting me to join them.
1:30pm - Patients.
3:30pm - Paperwork and emails.
4pm - Another meeting about upcoming trainings.
5pm - Escape! Realize I can make the evening worship service.
5:15pm - At church and take a seat.
7:30pm - Head home on a spiritual high.
7:45pm - Home, put stuff away, prep for work, and whip up French toast.
8:15pm - Curled up, noshing French toast and tune in to the History Channel.
9:45pm - Feeling tired, not sleepy. Switch to a Hallmark romance.
11pm - Lights out.
Total = $0
Wednesday
5am - Turn off alarm and lay quietly with my thoughts. Turn on the computer and put on the tea kettle.
5:30am - Sip tea and lack the desire to study. Finished homework yesterday so that’s ok. Browse motivational videos.
6:45am - Prep for work.
7:15am - Commute feeling spiritually content.
7:30am - Overnight oats, reading emails, and note a sense of groundhog’s day.
8am - Work day begins with patient prep.
9am - Another redundant training.
10am - Patients.
11:30am - Paperwork.
Noon - Pesto salad, watching Money With Katie videos.
1pm - Proofread reports for the lateral move psychologists.
2:30pm - Patients.
4pm - Another meeting to finalize details for the charity project. Firmly state I won’t join everyone. The lateral move supervisor complains this is important for team building. Firmly in asshole mode, I inform her that nowhere in my contract does it state I’m required to sit in filth on my personal time for the team. She grumbled and walked off. I’ll pay for that later, but I don’t care.
5pm - Escape!
5:15pm - Home, put stuff away, load and start dishwasher, and prep for tomorrow.
5:30pm - Noshing cheese and crackers and check emails with Grey’s Anatomy reruns in the background.
8:15pm - Quit being lazy and make dinner. Crime show in the background.
8:30pm - Noshing a chicken burger while watching reality tv.
12:15am - Curl up under weighted blanket with a meditation app, lights out.
12:45am - Still awake. Try a podcast and reading, no luck. Maybe more carbs will help. Turn off early alarms and get up.
Total = $0
Thursday
2:30am - Noshing hashbrowns and cheese, curl up with Grownish.
3am - Still not sleepy. Too late for a supplement. Switch to a Hallmark romance.
6:30am - Startled by the alarm. Feeling groggy and stretch.
6:45am - Get up and prep for work. I’m dragging. Grab B vitamins so I won’t fall asleep at my desk.
7:15am - Head to the car, annoyed it’s raining, I’m tired. *sigh* Commute.
7:30am - Overnight oats, reading emails, and take B vitamins. Up the ante and make green tea.
8am - Work day begins with paperwork and tea.
9am - Patients. Realize that they’re getting on my nerves because I’m tired.
11am - Power outage. This is not going to help me stay awake.
Noon - Maintenance informs us the power won’t be restored for hours. The lateral move supervisor and director debate canceling patients. Twenty minutes later they cancel remaining patients and tell us to go. Years ago I was hourly and dealt with losing half a day’s pay by begging for extra hours. Strange that isn’t my life anymore.
12:30pm - Escape! Get Mexican food ($13.15) and pick up the mail.
1pm - Home, put stuff away, noshing, and curl up with that Hallmark romance I fell asleep on. Couldn’t sleep now if I tried.
3:30pm - Chat with mom about her health. Her nonchalance is extremely irritating. It is very clear that it’s time for more direct planning for when things get worse.
5pm - Call a gal pal and check emails.
6pm - Chat with dad about revisions to his end of life plan. He stresses the importance of having plans in place for mom, and they don’t have money for everything needed. I assure him I’ll figure it out.
7pm - Class.
8pm - Class over. Starving, eat some pesto salad.
8:30pm - Call another gal pal. Everyone’s life seems so much more exciting than mine.
9:30pm - Curl up with the History Channel.
1am - Not tired, nosh a chocolate bar, and switch to a Hallmark romance.
Total = $13.15
Friday
6am - Unsure when I feel asleep, but refreshed and grateful I used a paid wellness day today. Watch Not Dead Yet.
7:15am - Put on the tea kettle, switch to cartoons, and enjoy the storm.
8:15am - Sip tea, open and sort paper mail, why do I let it pile up like this? Why is there still so much paper mail when I’ve requested paperless?
8:30am - Starving, finish pesto salad. Tupperware container cracked and is unusable.
9am - Mentor meeting.
10:15am - Inspired and shower with foot and face routine.
11:45am - Storm ended, head to Mexican place to meet a colleague.
Noon - An enjoyable lunch, her treat. A delightful surprise.
2:30pm - Home just as another storm comes.
2:45pm - Another mentor meeting.
3:45pm - Journal about the ideas inspired by today’s mentor meetings. I have the beginning of a project that could be launched at the sister hospital.
4pm - Tackle paper mail while noshing egg rolls with the History Channel in the background. Discover a revised final bill from my old internet provider ($14.87).
6:45pm - Get ready for the theater, storm ended.
7:30pm - At the theater, meet new people, have a great time.
9:45pm - Starving, stop for Mexican food ($13.15).
10:15pm - Home, curl up with a Hallmark romance while noshing.
11pm - Stuffed, sipping sparkling water, and reflecting on my mentor meetings.
Total = $28.02
Saturday
6am - Curious how that Hallmark romance ended, curl up with sparkling water.
7:15am - That was cute. Check emails. ponder breakfast, random sitcom in the background.
8am - Get dressed for errands.
8:30am - Stop at the gas station, top off fluids, and pick up granola bars and a bottle of water ($6.77).
8:45am - Hit the road, noshing granola bars, and enjoying the radio.
10:30am - At the housewares store and find tupperware ($125.12).
11am - Head to the hair salon.
11:15am - At the hair salon for pampering ($210).
2pm - Leave salon, notice the sky has darkened. Stop at gas station for more granola bars ($5.98).
2:15pm - On freeway noshing granola bars, enjoying the radio.
4pm - Starving. Stop at a burger joint and order a mushroom swiss, fries, and onion rings ($14.25).
4:15pm - Head home, hope to beat the rain.
4:30pm - Home just as it starts to rain, put stuff away, curl up with Grey’s Anatomy reruns while noshing.
5pm - Sipping sparkling water, sucked into Grey’s Anatomy.
11:30pm - Lights off and curl up.
Total = $362.12
Tally:
Food + Drink = $136.98
Fun / Entertainment = $60.85
Home + Health = $155.85
Clothes + Beauty = $210
Transport = $40
Other = $313
Reflection
This week has been more spendy. The videos on investing have me leaning toward opening a Roth IRA to serve as a motivator or make a small contribution after hitting specific debt repayment milestones. I’m determined to not let my parent’s circumstances stress me out. Maybe I’m not in the greatest position to help them, but I think I can do enough without sacrificing my own wellbeing.

Here's my personal experience from the last [terrible] year after being made jobless. I'm one of the victims of the tech massacre of 2023, whose company laid off thousands so that the stock price could go up a few bucks. We were profitable during the pandemic, and after... but a company can never make enough money. Didn't matter how many years you worked there, or what critical function you did. HR literally crossed out whole divisions of people and gave us 90days severance. The company 'offered' to help with job placement, but was just lip-service that came down to "Try applying at UPS, Amazon warehouse, or the local utility company. We're happy to act as a reference during this period of transition".
17yrs in my discipline. Always professional, received high marks during reviews, led the way on projects and deployments, etc. So you'd think that I'd have little trouble finding a new job... right? Wrong.
First, of the dozens of contacts I've made over the years (clients, vendors, coworkers, competitors, etc), none of their firms were hiring. They were all in a hiring freeze or doing their own layoffs. They were sad to hear I was let go, but were just as worried about losing their job next. Got some platitudes, shared some stories, but in the end it ended with some well wishes and 'take care'.
Second, the job hunting game is terribly ridiculous these days. I'm not going to lament about how "back in the day it was blah blah blah" because it's irrelevant - that was then, this is now. What's ridiculous is how even if you're qualified, have the experience, and accept the wage offered... they'll still auto-reject you and repost the listing a few days later. [I ran my resume past a couple colleagues for critiquing, and the fine folks at /resumes, so I know my formatting, verbiage, and presentation are all proper]. I'm thoroughly convinced that EVEN IF I walked into a company's physical office and handed a paper resume to the person who says they can't find anyone to work, they'd just throw it out without a glance, just so they can maintain their opinion that "nobody wants to work".
I'll share the briefest of details of the cutbacks I had to make to keep a roof over my head. Toast for breakfast, ramen for lunch/dinner. Thermostat was changed to 55F in the winter, and no AC unless it was +100F outside. I had the time, so I'd travel by bike to save gas. Cut all subscriptions, and changed phone/internet plans to the bare minimums.
Thankfully, my luck changed in the last few weeks. A position opened up of which I was qualified for, I applied, nailed the interviews, and finally got an offer! I know my success doesn't help those here who are still struggling, and I'm not going to pretend that the job market is suddenly better just because my circumstance changed. I wanted to share the best pieces of advice I've gotten here, for those who are still trying to get a job, as I felt these helped tip the scales in my favor:

• Keep applying. It's definitely a numbers game. Even if you fit every requirement on the posting, they're just as likely to discard your resume because the role isn't meant to be filled. And don't be afraid to step out of your comfort zone for related postings. You may have transferable skills that a potential employer doesn't even know they need, which you can offer!
  
• Keep a list of who you applied to. The company, the role, the details (day/night shift, posted wage, travel, etc). You're never going to remember all the jobs you apply to as the weeks go by, and if you get a email/call about your application, it's good to know what you applied for. It's also handy so you don't double-apply to the same firm/role as the weeks go by.
  
• Resumes and cover letters should always be tailored to the role. Unless you're applying to the same role at every firm, and they all have the same requirements, you need a version for each one. Sounds arduous, but just make a folder for each company you apply to and save a copy of that resume there. Grab part of the posting and put it into your resume so you have a higher chance of being selected when your resume is scanned. Also, my experience has been that I've gotten more replies to roles I applied to when using a cover letter. [Thank you ChatGPT for writing one for me].
  

Now what you've all come here to see: the naming and shaming. Out of over 700 applications to various companies across various industries, these were the ones who stood out the most for having the most ridiculous postings, requirements, or processes:

1. National Weather Service (NWS): Wanted 9yrs experience in AI Ops. I'm pretty sure AI wasn't even "a thing" 9yrs ago. Furthermore, while the job was posted in almost every major city in America, and was a job that could easily be done remotely, they waited until the interview process to ask if I could commute to Gaithersburg MD in a timely manner. Within 60sec of saying no, the interview ended. I tell myself this was a position crafted for an internal candidate.
   
2. Amazon (AWS): Position I was slightly overqualified for, but still good pay/benefits. 60% travel, but that was OK by me, I live near a major airport with flights going everywhere domestic and international. An automated email from the company said the role was in another city ~1000mi away. Recruiter said it was just a typo and that it was available in my area, just ignore the email. Get to the 8hrs of interviews... everyone on the call(s) were confused why I was being considered if I didn't live in that city. I told them the recruiter verified it was just a typo (and forwarded the email), but that didn't change anything - these were the people who made the request for additional headcount, so location was key. Got an "oops our mistake" email from the AWS recruiter the next morning informing me they'll be going with someone else.
   
3. Oracle: Applied for a role they'd been advertising for some time. Got an immediate callback from a recruiter who liked my history, chatted for about an hour. Both of us were excited, sounded like match made in heaven. Interview scheduled for the next week. Interview day comes up, and the interviewer is 10min late. Guy is pretty disheveled, looked like he was up all night, bags under his eyes, 5 o'clock shadow, the works. Gets my name wrong (IE: Mike -> Mark), doesn't make an attempt to look at the camera, and within 10min says 'yeah you're not what we're looking for, sorry' and hangs up without another word. Recruiter didn't get any feedback, just thanked me for applying and wished me well.
   
4. Charter Communications: Similar to above, recruiter reached out and went over my experience, felt I was a great match. Did some online tests, did well enough to get an interview with management. One of them liked me, we did a lot of back and forth about different projects I've worked on (scale, scope, budget, etc), had similar humor so it seemed like a good personality fit (always important). The other mgr on the call was stoic to the point I wondered if his video was frozen. Never cracked a smile, nodded his head, or anything. We get to the end, where they ask the typical "do you have any questions for us?" and I ask both of them how they see my experience as being able to best help the company meet its goals. Mgr1 fires off a laundry list of upcoming work that sounds like they'd want me to help with, if not lead. Mgr2 says "we'll just have to wait and see"... so not tipping his hand. Sent an email the next day thanking them for the interview, no reply. Week later I email asking for an update, no reply. I email the recruiter 3 days later, no reply. So they just ghosted me.
   

In conclusion, the market is still pretty rough out there. Just because I got a job doesn't mean the market is better. Employers still have no qualms about treating applicants like cattle. You've heard it before, but don't get attached to any job posting or open position until you have a written offer in hand.

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/TequilaShotsAtWork
AITA for ordering Tequila shots for my work colleagues at Friday lunchtime?
Originally posted to AmItheAsshole
TRIGGER WARNING: abuse of alcohol, coercion and pressuring people to drink
Original Post Sept 25, 2021
I (26M) work in a busy lab (medical diagnostics), and every Friday we go as team (6-7 people) to a local sports bar to have a 'team-building' lunch on the boss's company card. Yesterday our boss was swamped with deadlines, but said the rest of us could 'go anyway', as long as we paid for any alcoholic drinks ourselves.
Usually, the boss + 1-2 other people will order a small beer with their lunch, so I have consumed alcohol on the clock before in this job. I was even thinking that without the boss there that I might order a big beer this time.
When we arrived though, me and my work-bro (25M) were drawn to a new offer the bar had on tequila shots (5 for $10). In our defence, we had just had a very stressful morning - so we proposed to the team that we buy a single round of shots to commemorate it. A couple of our colleagues were a little reluctant, but after a little convincing we were soon toasting to a morning of hard work.
That's when my work-bro proposed we order a second round of shots. I have a pretty high tolerance to alcohol, so it was no problem with me. I knew for a fact we have a couple of 'lightweight' colleagues - for example, a diminutive Asian lady who rarely drinks (23F) - but we still managed to convince the rest of the table to drink with us a second time.
After that, the two females with us tapped out, but the three remaining guys (myself included) decided to split 10 further tequila shots. In our defence - as far as 'team-building' goes - the outing was a roaring success. I think I learned more about my colleagues in those 1.5 hours than I have in the last 2 years.
Unfortunately, when we got back to the office, our boss could smell the tequila on my breath. My work-bro, very stupidly, decided to be honest, and told him that some of us had had 5+ shots of alcohol at lunch. My boss's face turned bright fucking red and he told us all to 'go home' immediately, and that it 'wasn't safe' for us to be working in a lab while inebriated. I calmly explained to him that I infact still felt 'very sober', (I have very high tolerance remember,) but he wasn't having it.
I'm genuinely worried about what's going to happen on Monday morning. The two female colleagues called me and my work-bro assholes for 'taking it too far and getting everyone into trouble'. I see their point of view - but on the other hand, we did have a really good time while at the bar.
Help us out Reddit - who is the asshole here?
VERDICT: ASSHOLE
TOP COMMENTS
omarade2

Yta - I’m pretty sure being inebriated while working in medical diagnostic lab is a felony. You should be thankful you weren’t fired.

~
pineboxwaiting

YTA Five shots over 1.5 hours & returning to work in a medical lab. Frat days are over, bro.

multiverse-wanderer

God…I can’t even imagine WANTING to take 5 shots fully knowing I had to go back to the office. I would have been absolutely sloshed taking 5 shots in general, even if it was on a weekend night out with friends.

~
Resting_Beauty_Face

YTA. And the way you describe your other co-workers is gross. “Females”, “diminutive Asian”, and “work-bro”… you need to grow up.

~
throwaway9455370

YTA. Expect to be fired on Monday

Update Sept 27, 2021 (2 days later)
Original thread: https://www.reddit.com/AmItheAsshole/s/KxVsh9S8Yw
​
Well, I'm sure a lot of you will be happy to know that me and my (out of) work bro got fired this morning. HR asked us 'why exactly' we thought we could drink 6 tequila shots and then go back to the lab. All we could think of was that in college we used to 'work hard and play hard', and it didn't affect our grades. They didn't like that excuse.
Anyway, we were offered a plea bargin. HR accepted our resignations and promised a 'passing' (but not glowing) reference for future employers, on the condition we don't mention what happened to anyone ever again.
I want to thank all those that commented on the original thread. I now accept that me and my work bro made a grevious error of judgement. We're not alcoholics (as some people suggested), but we're not in college anymore either. Personally, I will be laying off the hard liqour for a while to focus on rebuilding my career in medical diagnostics. And if in the future someone offers me a shot while I'm on the clock, I will say 'no thank you'.
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

I (32 M) have been with my soon to be ex wife (32 F) for 5 years (married for 2). We also have a 1 year old daughter.
Up until this past weekend, we've had a great relationship. As-in, I didn't have any major complaints. Small things here and there, but any conflict we've had, we've always been able to have a calm discussion and work out our issues.
I want to clarify that that I never expected to date/marry a virgin considering the condition of the dating market, nor do I have a specific number in mind for a dealbreaker. That being said, in the early stages of dating, she brought up the topic of body count. I'm not saying that I wouldn't eventually have asked, but I never pressed her for that info.
She willingly told me her body count was 12. Much lower than I expected. She's an attractive woman with a high sex drive, but a high sex drive doesn't mean sleeping around. I didn't question or emphasis it. I take most people at their word, and let time shed light on lies. Looking back, that was a mistake.
Anyway, my STBXW best friend, lets call her Lauren is a former colleague of mine. Lauren was the one who introduced me to my wife. At the time, we were all in the Healthcare field, and all 3 of us were Nurse Practitioners. Currently, only STBXW has the same job title.
Lauren hit a major milestone, recently, and landed her dream job. Or more accurately put, Lauren saved up enough money to realistically go into buisness for herself in a field completely unrelated to Healthcare. Friday, we all went out for drinks to celebrate and support Lauren (amongst a handful of other people).
This part is very important, my STBXW and I do not drink. We're not sober but we both had a crazy drinking phase in college, and we're over alcohol. We're both are also educated health nuts. We eat clean, workout regularly, and it's hard for us to not see what alcohol really is, which is poison.
Friday would be the first time either of us even remotely got tipsy together, let alone drunk. It's not that we won't drink, it's just isn't appealing. We'll drink on special occasions, and that's not a gurantee. For the duration of the relationship ,the handful of times we have had alcoholic drinks, it was separately and far and few in-between. It was planned that way, but we primarily have different friend groups.
This celebration, we said screw it and let the drinks flow. It's abundantly obvious that our alcohol tolerance no longer exist. We're getting toasted, Lauren is getting toasted, and so is everyone else in the group. But it's a good time. We're not hurting anyway, and we're having fun.
Lauren and STBXW get to talking about their crazy times in college. I failed to mention they met in college. I didn't hear every single detail, as the conversation was between them but I heard enough to know hookups were consistent, and not outliers. She had multiple group play experinces, and what made me really want to throw up is that my wife engaged in pay for play. If we're not sugar coating, then prostitution.
Listening to their stories, dots didn't need to be "connected" to come to the conclusion her number was way over 12.
Obviously, I'm in a bad mood (still am), but I continue to save face because I don't want to ruin Lauren celebration. The train of thought at the time was I like Lauren, her friends, and her BF. I would feel incredibly guilty for ruining their night. As I right this... I'm not sure how I feel about Lauren. It's not her job to tell me these things about my wife, but she did introduce us, and she knew my false interpretation of my wife. They are best friends, so her loyalty would be with my STBXW, opposed to me, but now that I think of it... I don't think I continue being friends with her.
I digress. As the night ended, and we're all going our separate ways, I used that opportunity to question my wife. Not in a pressing manner, but as a "happy" drunk inquiring.
My wife is out of it, mentally, and loose lipped. She was the majority of the night. I bring up the stories, but at a surface level. After keeping the conversation light and fun, I ask her about her body count as casually as possible considering the context. I didn't have to yank it out of her, and to keep it short, she didn't give or know the exact number, but she admitted the number was more than 100.
When the uber arrived, she passed out on the way home. I made sure she got home through the door, settled, and booked an uber to my brother house which is only 30 minutes from us.
My brother was babysitting our daughter for the night. He has a one of those doors that doesn't require a physical key, but a numeric pass code to unlock the door.
Prior to showing up, I texted him letting him know I'm passing out on his couch. I'm welcomed almost anytime, but the heads up text was a safety precaution. It was late, and we love our guns here in Texas.
In the morning, fighting a massive hangover, I caught my brother up to speed. He had two things to say.
The first is that she strategically lied, and manipulated me to alter my perception of her in-order to gain an outcome in her favor. This was a conclusion that I came to on my own, just not as well layed out as he presented it.
The second thing he said, I only partially thought of. He brought it to my attention that if she's that calculated and manipulative, what else is she lying about? Again I came up with that thought as well. This is why I no longer consider her trustworthy, but what he said next didn't cross my mind. He told me, that being said, he highly encourages me to get a DNA test for my daughter, since my wife is willing to lie about fundamental concepts, and her word can't be taken at face value.
In that moment, I felt sick. Well sicker. With that thought, and the amount of alcohol I had the night before, I literally threw up all over his floor.
To speed this story up, I took my daughter home, and confronted my wife. She confessed to lying about her body count, apologized profusely, and layed out the water works. I expressed anger, and hurt, but I haven't mentioned divorce or a parternity test.
Divorce will inevitable happen. I'm planning to begin searching for a lawyer this upcoming Monday, and to schedule a meeting asap. I'll also get a paternity for my daughter to verify if she's indeed mine asap. I haven't relayed any of this to my STBXW.
The way I see it, the smartest move is to contact a lawyer first, find out the results of the paternity test, and follow what my lawyer says as we wait for and receive the results of the test.
I have no idea how long either of this will take. I'm no law expert. I've never been divorced, nor do I have anyone close to that has been divorced. I'm going to stay in my lane, and be patient for my lawyer advice, and to get the paternity results as that will play a huge role on future involvement for when the divorce is initiated, and finalized.
This is why I'm asking am I wrong. I've got some feedback on this but this is what I want to highlight:
Body count aside, I can't stop thinking about the concept of the lie. That's what bothers me the most. There's no excuse, regardless of fear or reasoning to go out of one's way to intentionally manipulate them/the truth, in-order to give false representation for an outcome that suits one best. What she has shown me is that she can't be trusted. Her word means nothing. That's the primary reason (although body count is relvant to me) for initiating the divorce.
I'm asking, am I wrong for this?
Update: https://www.reddit.com/amiwrong/s/8xURQWa2bp

I (32 M) have been with my soon to be ex wife (32 F) for 5 years (married for 2). We also have a 1 year old daughter.
Up until this past weekend, we've had a great relationship. As-in, I didn't have any major complaints. Small things here and there, but any conflict we've had, we've always been able to have a calm discussion and work out our issues.
I want to clarify that that I never expected to date/marry a virgin considering the condition of the dating market, nor do I have a specific number in mind for a dealbreaker. That being said, in the early stages of dating, she brought up the topic of body count. I'm not saying that I wouldn't eventually have asked, but I never pressed her for that info.
She willingly told me her body count was 12. Much lower than I expected. She's an attractive woman with a high sex drive, but a high sex drive doesn't mean sleeping around. I didn't question or emphasis it. I take most people at their word, and let time shed light on lies. Looking back, that was a mistake.
Anyway, my STBXW best friend, lets call her Lauren is a former colleague of mine. Lauren was the one who introduced me to my wife. At the time, we were all in the Healthcare field, and all 3 of us were Nurse Practitioners. Currently, only STBXW has the same job title.
Lauren hit a major milestone, recently, and landed her dream job. Or more accurately put, Lauren saved up enough money to realistically go into buisness for herself in a field completely unrelated to Healthcare. Friday, we all went out for drinks to celebrate and support Lauren (amongst a handful of other people).
This part is very important, my STBXW and I do not drink. We're not sober but we both had a crazy drinking phase in college, and we're over alcohol. We're both are also educated health nuts. We eat clean, workout regularly, and it's hard for us to not see what alcohol really is, which is poison.
Friday would be the first time either of us even remotely got tipsy together, let alone drunk. It's not that we won't drink, it's just isn't appealing. We'll drink on special occasions, and that's not a gurantee. For the duration of the relationship ,the handful of times we have had alcoholic drinks, it was separately and far and few in-between. It was planned that way, but we primarily have different friend groups.
This celebration, we said screw it and let the drinks flow. It's abundantly obvious that our alcohol tolerance no longer exist. We're getting toasted, Lauren is getting toasted, and so is everyone else in the group. But it's a good time. We're not hurting anyway, and we're having fun.
Lauren and STBXW get to talking about their crazy times in college. I failed to mention they met in college. I didn't hear every single detail, as the conversation was between them but I heard enough to know hookups were consistent, and not outliers. She had multiple group play experinces, and what made me really want to throw up is that my wife engaged in pay for play. If we're not sugar coating, then prostitution.
Listening to their stories, dots didn't need to be "connected" to come to the conclusion her number was way over 12.
Obviously, I'm in a bad mood (still am), but I continue to save face because I don't want to ruin Lauren celebration. The train of thought at the time was I like Lauren, her friends, and her BF. I would feel incredibly guilty for ruining their night. As I right this... I'm not sure how I feel about Lauren. It's not her job to tell me these things about my wife, but she did introduce us, and she knew my false interpretation of my wife. They are best friends, so her loyalty would be with my STBXW, opposed to me, but now that I think of it... I don't think I continue being friends with her.
I digress. As the night ended, and we're all going our separate ways, I used that opportunity to question my wife. Not in a pressing manner, but as a "happy" drunk inquiring.
My wife is out of it, mentally, and loose lipped. She was the majority of the night. I bring up the stories, but at a surface level. After keeping the conversation light and fun, I ask her about her body count as casually as possible considering the context. I didn't have to yank it out of her, and to keep it short, she didn't give or know the exact number, but she admitted the number was more than 100.
When the uber arrived, she passed out on the way home. I made sure she got home through the door, settled, and booked an uber to my brother house which is only 30 minutes from us.
My brother was babysitting our daughter for the night. He has a one of those doors that doesn't require a physical key, but a numeric pass code to unlock the door.
Prior to showing up, I texted him letting him know I'm passing out on his couch. I'm welcomed almost anytime, but the heads up text was a safety precaution. It was late, and we love our guns here in Texas.
In the morning, fighting a massive hangover, I caught my brother up to speed. He had two things to say.
The first is that she strategically lied, and manipulated me to alter my perception of her in-order to gain an outcome in her favor. This was a conclusion that I came to on my own, just not as well layed out as he presented it.
The second thing he said, I only partially thought of. He brought it to my attention that if she's that calculated and manipulative, what else is she lying about? Again I came up with that thought as well. This is why I no longer consider her trustworthy, but what he said next didn't cross my mind. He told me, that being said, he highly encourages me to get a DNA test for my daughter, since my wife is willing to lie about fundamental concepts, and her word can't be taken at face value.
In that moment, I felt sick. Well sicker. With that thought, and the amount of alcohol I had the night before, I literally threw up all over his floor.
To speed this story up, I took my daughter home, and confronted my wife. She confessed to lying about her body count, apologized profusely, and layed out the water works. I expressed anger, and hurt, but I haven't mentioned divorce or a parternity test.
Divorce will inevitable happen. I'm planning to begin searching for a lawyer this upcoming Monday, and to schedule a meeting asap. I'll also get a paternity for my daughter to verify if she's indeed mine asap. I haven't relayed any of this to my STBXW.
The way I see it, the smartest move is to contact a lawyer first, find out the results of the paternity test, and follow what my lawyer says as we wait for and receive the results of the test.
I have no idea how long either of this will take. I'm no law expert. I've never been divorced, nor do I have anyone close to that has been divorced. I'm going to stay in my lane, and be patient for my lawyer advice, and to get the paternity results as that will play a huge role on future involvement for when the divorce is initiated, and finalized.
I talked to my mother, today, about this and she's adamantly against my plan. She won't interfere, but she is biased. My daughter is her only grandchild. Postive or negative results, my mom will see her as her grandchild, but she knows that I don't share that same viewpoint. She didn't directly call me an asshole, but she did everything but that.
So I'm asking reddit, am I the asshole for planning to divorce my wife when I found I she lied about her body count and slept with over 100 men?
Update: https://www.reddit.com/AITAH/s/XuREu9XaGS

PART ONE THOUSAND
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Sunday
Wow. I wasn’t huge on the whole social cues, but even for me, Tucker’s exuberance was over the top. Kulon and Donald silently followed us into a dining room that housed a twelve-seater banquet table. Only one end had been set up with breakfast options, with the three seats around the head of the table for eating. I saw an older, portly man in all white placing a dish on the table when we approached, and his smile not quite reaching his eyes when he saw Geraldine.
My hackles were immediately raised.
“Miss Portsmith, so good to see you again,” an older woman in a maid’s outfit said with a small curtsey, her smile just as forced.
What the heck is wrong with these people?
Geraldine broke away from her father and rushed to the elderly maid first, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck and clinging to her as if her life depended on it. “I’m sooo sorry, Mrs Kendricks,” my girl sobbed. “I can’t believe I was so horrible to you and Chef Rawlins.”
The woman’s eyes went to Tucker in confusion as her arms curled awkwardly around my girl. Tucker looked at me with the same level of bewilderment, and I couldn’t help myself. I smiled like I was the king of the world. Remembering what my girl had been like before she moved in with me, their wariness now made sense.
Mrs Kendricks offered her hushed words of comfort and tried (failed miserably but tried) to discreetly slip Geraldine a handkerchief to use while rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were just as damp, so I figured this was a long time coming.
As Gerry repeated her heartfelt apology to Chef Rawlins, Tucker took his seat at the head of the table, leaving Gerry and me to have a seat on either side of him. I wasn’t thrilled with that layout, preferring my girl beside me, but this breakfast was for Gerry. She needed to hear about her parents’ divorce from her father. I opened my arms once she pulled away from Chef Rawlins, and she flew into them, pressing her face into my throat. I held her tight, not caring that all eyes were now on us.
“You did good, angel,” I whispered, nuzzling her hair. “But I think your dad’s getting hungry.” I knew I was.
She eventually pulled just far enough away from my shoulder to slip the hand with the handkerchief between us to wipe her face. “Do I look okay?” she asked, staring across at me hopefully.
I was glad she hadn’t gone all out on her makeup, or she would’ve looked like a melting racoon, and I sucked at lying. As it was, there were very faint streaks in her foundation that I was able to wipe away with my own handkerchief. “Perfect,” I assured her with a light kiss, then walked her to the nearest chair.
As I pulled it out and helped her sit, my eyes slid across our breakfast options.
No egg-filled baguettes?
The thought popped into my mind, and I immediately wanted to slap myself stupid. Just because I was really partial to them, and Robbie always made them with the perfect amount of fluffy— What the hell, Willcott?!
Keeping a stranglehold on my snobbery, I waited until Gerry was situated before I moved around behind Tucker to my own seat across from her. In doing so, I walked between Tucker and Donald and was rather proud of the fact that I didn’t shiver under Donald’s blistering gaze that I swore was attempting to incinerate my soul. Kulon’s, when I checked where he stood behind my seat, wasn’t any happier. Great. The Titans were facing off when only one was the genuine article.
“Daddy, what’s going on?” Geraldine asked, finally noticing the excessive number of armed men.
“They’re from the company, cupcake, and it’s what I wanted to talk to you and Sam about.”
I froze alongside my chair. Okay, this part's new.
He turned to me. “I understand your guard there is from your father’s personal militia?”
I glanced at Kulon again and made a mental note to thank him since his face resumed a neutral expression instead of scoffing at the idea. A thank you and a favour of his choice. Not one of those ‘you-must-or-else’ favours that Dad talked about, but a personal one from me to him. He could have easily destroyed my dad’s credibility by pointing out how Lady Col’s military answered to only her and Hasteinn, but for our sakes he was choosing to pretend he hadn’t heard it.
“One of three that have been assigned to me,” I agreed, not mentioning that another was in the room with us. “Eight-hour rotations.”
“Do you think you could ask your father to expand on that number?” Tucker asked.
I shook my head as I slid into my seat. No way would the true gryps give me any more guards. Knowing them, they probably didn’t want to provide me with the ones I had, except Lady Col was making them.
“We don’t need any more,” I assured him, waiting for Tucker to start eating before I helped myself to what looked like cinnamon toast of some kind. At home, Gerry took her cues from me, but this was the first man in her life, and we were in Tucker's home, so I would follow his lead. I knew they didn’t say grace, as Mrs Portsmith preferred to believe in things she could lay her hands on, like the rewards of hard work and a whole lot of other garbage she rammed down my girl’s neck.
Donald cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Mister Willcott, one person to protect you and Miss Portsmith in these potentially volatile times is both exceedingly short-sighted and woefully insufficient,” he stated, probably voicing his boss’ concerns so that Tucker didn’t have to.
Nevertheless, I felt my vision narrow as I slow-panned to the man who had intimidated me right up until two seconds ago. Is this guy for real?
He spoke again before I could. “The fact that he remained on your side of the table proves his priority between the two of you is you. Miss Portsmith will be an afterthought at best. Is that not correct, sir?”
Is that what this is?! A stupid test?! “Kulon could single-handedly replace the entire presidential Secret Service all by himself, so I would say, yeah, he’s plenty enough.” You asshat. Seeing the red start to creep into my vision and knowing I couldn’t afford to lose my temper here, I put down my cinnamon toast and reached into my pants pocket. Pulling out my pills, I took one, and the red vanished as quickly as it came.
“What was that?” Tucker demanded.
“Medication that helps me stay calm. I take it before things get said that can’t be unsaid.” Not to mention actions. I still didn’t care what people thought of me … but come after those I consider mine at your own peril. As much as my divine temper was brought under control, there was no mistaking my irritation as I stared at Tucker, waiting for him to get to the point of this breakfast so we could leave.
“Daddy, for goodness’ sake! What’s going on?” Geraldine demanded as Tucker paled under my stare. If I weren’t so annoyed, I would’ve been amazed that I had that effect on anybody. “Why is Donald insulting Kulon, and why are you making Sam angry?”
“He’s—we—we’re not baby. He’s … we are worried about you. Kulon is only one man, and one man cannot prioritise two people equally. It’s physically impossible. If the worst situation were to occur, he'd have moments to make a judgement call and decide who he'd save first, and we all know his duty is to Sam. No one’s blaming him for that, but now that he’s seen the extent of my detail, I was hoping he would understand the situation warranted extra personnel for you as well…”
“What situation?!” Geraldine screeched.
I pushed my chair back with every intention of going over the table if I had to, to reach her, but Tucker’s hand shot out to keep me where I was.
“Cupcake, I’m divorcing your mother. The paperwork has already been drawn up that has her getting half of everything and the condo if she agrees to leave us alone.”
All the blood drained from Gerry’s face. “You paid her to stay away from me?!” she asked, crestfallen.
“NO!” Both Tucker and I shouted as one. We then looked at each other, and I gestured my apology for interrupting. “No,” Tucker repeated, taking her hand in both of his and twisting in his seat to face her more than me. “I’m not paying her to leave you alone, Geraldine. I would never do that to you.”
I would, in an effing heartbeat.
“I’m terrified that she’ll do something to you out of spite of me, and I’m paying her extra in the hopes that she doesn’t. But we both know your mother can be quite vindictive when she puts her mind to it.”
Instead of being comforted, Gerry pulled her hand out from her father’s and shot to her feet, her eyes on me. I pushed back farther from the table and gave her a small flick of my fingertips for her to come to me.
She flew around the table and threw herself at me, crawling into my lap. I wrapped her up in my arms, angling my head to make as much contact as possible. “It’s okay, angel,” I whispered, giving her father the stink-eye over her hair. “No one’s asking you to pick sides. In fact, he’s asking you not to.” My gaze narrowed. “Isn’t that right, Tuck?”
My tone was anything but friendly, but he had to know none of this was okay with me. Since all I’d had was a few bites of toast, and Geraldine hadn’t even had that, I slid my hand under her knees and lifted her into the air.
Tucker gasped and went to speak but stopped when Kulon moved sideways and pulled out the empty seat directly beside the one I’d been allocated. I sat back down, still cuddling my girl close.
“Tuck,” I repeated, not sure I should still be using the friendly term given we were back on shaky ground but willing to try and keep things civilised. “Would you mind having Mrs Kendricks move my plate to here and Gerry’s to where mine is? Once Gerry’s calmed down, she can sit between us, and I trust you won’t try to separate us again?” It was posed as a question, though if it had teeth, it would have bitten him.
“Of course. Geraldine, please, I’m sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally. I just want you to be safe. Safe and happy. That’s all.”
“Take your time, baby,” I whispered as she continued to cling to me. “We have all day.”
As Geraldine started to settle, I watched both Mrs Kendricks and Chef Rawlins come forward and move the settings around until they were as I requested. They both smiled at me as they worked, which was nice.
“Why are you and Mother divorcing?” Gerry finally asked, sliding into her own seat. Her left hand never left my thigh, and I twisted in my seat to make it easier for her to reach. She needed that tactile contact.
I saw Tucker’s eyes glance at me and held my tongue.
“I can’t take being hurt anymore.”
Geraldine gasped, and her father reached forward, taking her right hand once more. “It’s between me and her, baby girl. I don’t want you to come into the middle of it. If you still want the details when it’s all over, I’ll give them to you then.”
“But Sam doesn’t have the authority to order more guards, Daddy. They come from the family’s estate.”
Tucker’s eyes found me again. “Then the company will supply…”
“No,” I said as I shook my head, cutting him off. “Dad’ll never allow that. No one outside the family and those who already live there can be at the apartment all the time.” Holy hell! Just thinking about some stranger being in our space twenty-four-seven, witnessing things he or she shouldn’t be witnessing and reporting them to Tucker was enough to have me breaking out in hives, let alone what Dad or any of the true gryps would do.
“But Geraldine must be protected!” Tucker argued.
“And I’m telling you she is,” I countered, just as fast. “No one is going anywhere near her. Not on our watch.”
“Sir, if I may?” Donald asked, and Tucker nodded. “Sam, may we all agree that we are attempting to do what is in Miss Portsmith’s best interest at this stage?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Yes,” Tucker agreed.
“Your guard may be experienced in one-on-one combat; however, the point Mister Portsmith is trying to make is that no one can be in two places at once. If your Mister Kulon needs to use his body to protect one of you, only one of you will gain that protection.”
“You’re assuming I won’t see the trouble coming and intercept it before it becomes a problem,” Kulon said, speaking for himself. “That is your first mistake.”
“And yours is to assume you are capable of more than you are, lad.”
Kulon’s gaze narrowed, and I must admit, I was getting annoyed now, too. “You might want to ask Thomas what I’m capable of,” Kulon growled.
Donald drew in an angry breath, but Geraldine got in first. “Kulon, Donald, please!” she insisted, seeing how badly this was spiralling.
“Kulon, my concern is for my daughter. Would you be able to prove your claims to my satisfaction?”
Easily, I thought, trying hard not to snicker. Gerry pinched my abdomen, so I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I hoped.
“What do you have in mind?” Kulon asked.
“Awwww, no fair! Why does he get all the fun?” Rubin whined in my ear.
“Ssshh,” I shushed sharply, not even bothering to wonder how Rubin was doing that.
“What?” Tucker asked.
“Nothing,” I said, waving the subject aside. “Just thinking out loud. What would it take for you to be satisfied?”
Instead of answering, Tucker turned to Donald, who was frowning thoughtfully.
“Sir, if we hired one of the hotel’s large conference rooms, we could have Sam and Miss Portsmith walk down the centre of the room, and the men we have here could attempt to capture Miss Portsmith.”
“Except I already know who you’ll be targeting,” Kulon argued.
“Many animals know they’re being targeted by an ant swarm, Kulon. It doesn’t mean the numbers won’t win in the end. Thirteen trained personnel against one, defending two targets simultaneously … you simply can’t beat those numbers.”
Kulon looked at me, and for those few moments, I got a hint of what Dad must feel like being a worshipped god. That or an ancient times emperor, for I know my smirk was that smug when I maintained eye contact with Kulon and said, “Prove him wrong.”
Kulon folded his arms, his superior grin matching mine.
“And unless you think I’m gonna detonate, you stay out of it, Rubin,” I whispered as quietly as I could. It would frustrate him no end to see Kulon having all the fun, but this was in-house, and whatever they had planned, it wouldn’t require Rubin to reveal himself. And it was highly unlikely that I would detonate, since I’d just taken one of Lady Col’s pills.
Fifteen minutes later, Gerry, Kulon, and I were standing in the doorway of a conference room that had been cleared to reveal deep purple carpets with silver Greek-like borders and one accent wall done in circles ranging from white to purple. White was everywhere else: square white posts and white blinds that covered half of the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows down the right side.
Six men were lined up on either side of the room, with Tucker and Donald at the far end. “Kulon, you don’t have to do this,” Tucker insisted, his voice echoing off the almost empty space. “These men know what they are doing. The numbers are impossible to beat. I have all the respect in the world for you, young man…”
“If I can’t win this, I’ll have no respect for myself,” Kulon replied, cracking his neck in both directions just by tilting his head.
“Then, at least let me take Gerry’s place,” Tucker said, taking a step towards us. “It makes no difference for this display whether it’s her or me in the firing line.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” I answered, curling my arm around Gerry’s shoulders while she leaned heavily into me. There was no doubt in either of our minds that the safest place in the room for her was at my side, hands down.
“Kulon, don’t hurt them too much, okay? Daddy needs them to protect him.”
Kulon’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly without answering, and I had to wonder if he really had intended on going all out on these guys. For all of our sakes, I certainly hoped not.
“Very well,” Tucker said, his expression resigned. He nodded at Donald, who raised his hand to his shoulder and snapped his fingers.
Pretentious git, I thought, as the men left their lines in a bid to reach us first. Kulon left us and met them about five feet ahead of us. And he was so fluid in his strikes! Damn, watching him mow through them was a glorious sight, and I was so captivated by his movements that I failed to see a subsequent problem until Gerry gasped and whirled around in front of me, using me as a shield.
I spun around with my arms outstretched to defend her, but I wasn’t quick enough to avoid the silver prongs that shot out at me or the familiar tac-tac-tac that had my body convulsing with electrical charge. It felt like it went on forever when it was probably only a couple of seconds, but over the rush in my ears, I heard Geraldine scream, and I realised someone had grabbed her.
My reaction was as instinctive as it was detrimental to the guy who held her.
Still jolting in time with that damned taser (which I was seriously thinking about force-feeding to the scumbag who zotted me) on my way to the floor, I kicked out with all my strength at the guy holding Geraldine.
Being completely off-balance turned out to be a good thing because when I connected with his stomach, he was driven back past his taser-wielding colleague, through the open doorway and slammed into the wall on the other side of the corridor; all without losing any height. If I’d have kicked him that hard while upright and braced, I’d have probably torn him in half.
Relief swamped me a moment later as about two feet of taser lines dropped to the ground beside my head.
Glancing at the cut lines, I knew despite my earlier ‘request’ for Rubin to stay out of it, he’d drawn the line at me being hurt. The fact that that was all he’d done instead of breaking cover and going on the attack with his brother was a testament to his training.
Kulon was another matter entirely.
“You fuckers!” he swore and threw his hands out, the first digit of his fingers almost detaching except for a thin fibre that connected them to the first knuckle. Each finger shot towards a standing guard, and as soon as it connected with them, they went down in what I hoped was unconsciousness. I made myself believe they were unconscious because if they weren’t, we’d be in so much trouble.
Geraldine dropped her weight on top of me, wrapping one arm around my neck and using the other to remove the prongs from my clothes. “It’s a Nascerdios thing,” she said loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
A quick reverse of Kulon’s hands' motion had his finger joints flying back into their original position. Ignoring Donald and Tucker at the other end of the room, he was with us in two long strides, but instead of stopping, he stepped over the top of us to go toe-to-toe with the guy who zotted me.
The guy stood frozen, shaking as Kulon loomed over the top of him. “Run … or die, motherfucker,” he snarled, his voice no longer human as his hands fisted angrily at his sides. “You have two seconds to choose.”
Dropping the taser gun, the man chose life by fleeing from the room.
All three of us then turned to look at Tucker and Donald.
[Next Chapter]
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((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!

After a couple of holiday diaries I thought I would post a normal what I spend in a week diary!
Since my last post I changed jobs and have increased my salary to £50k (yay!).
My partner and I share most of our spending finances, but have separate saving pots. Eventually we will probably share most of our money. We each put in the same % of our income post tax into a shared account each month which means that he pays for about 65% of our costs and I pay 35% because he is the main earner. This shared account pretty much covers everything even if I’m buying clothes or he’s having a big night with his friends. The main thing that falls outside of our shared account is presents for each other.
Day 1, Saturday:
8am - wake up hungover and grumpy from the neighbour’s kid playing downstairs. We had a birthday last night and got home at 2am so not enough sleep for me!
11am- after a few hours of lounging, having some breakfast, and a shower we feel renewed. G drives me to a shopping centre so I can make returns of some wedding guest dresses I was deciding between. Get £350 in returns. We grab a pret coffee (count this as 'free'. I’m on the first month of a Pret subscription which is £15 a month but will go up to £30. Each coffee would be £4 without the subscription. I reckon with how many drinks I get it is around 50p per coffee). I spend a Christmas gift card on a throw for our bedroom £10 (I had a £50 gift card, but really given I had so many returns, did I really spend anything??).
12pm- go to a nearby supermarket and get a weeks worth of food. We plan out our meals a week in advance but normally only do a big shop once a month. We then top up with food bits from our small shop around the corner £65.
1.30pm- heat up some leftovers (chicken, mushroom, and pea pie) and have a lovely laze on the sofa.
3pm- do some admin/house bits while having a cuppa. Book some restaurants for upcoming dinners with friends (London without reservations can be a nightmare!) and pick up some Vinted parcels from the corner shop. Get some flowers for our dinner hosts on the way back £15
7pm- head over to a family friend’s home for a celebratory dinner. We enjoy a huuuge spread of Chinese food including Peking duck, steamed fish, homemade dumplings, spicy aubergine, cashew chicken, and mountains of rice and noodles.
9.30pm- duck out to go to a friend’s 30th. We catch the bus just in time £2 each. We buy cocktails on arrival £20 total.
11.30pm- people are heading out to a club but we are exhausted and get the bus back £2 each.
Day total: £114
Day 2:
9am - managed a bit of a lie in and G brings me toast and tea in bed
10am- go for a long walk in the park to stretch our legs.
1pm- after sorting out some more returns (some new work clothes) we make a creamy mushroom pasta (extra extra parmesan for me) and catch up on some tv.
3pm- tidy the flat and have a nice Instagram scroll. Walk over to visit my grandparents for a couple of hours, returning a parcel at a drop off spot on the way there.
6pm- we have a few birthdays coming up so we buy some gifts online £40. I change the sheets in our bedroom while G does the washing up.
7pm- I cook dinner tonight, I make chicken with peppers and garlic rice which comes together quickly. We are zonked from the back to back evenings and decide on a very very chill sofa evening with a camomile and some chocolates.
11pm- shower & bed
Day spend: £40
Day 3:
7.30am- want to hit snooze but force ourselves to go out for a jog
9am- sat down post shower for a day of back to back meetings. I have a slice of toast with avocado and a cup of tea while I look through my messages.
1pm- half hour break pops up between meetings. G heats up leftovers from the previous evening.
6pm- back to back meetings all afternoon. Who thought this was an acceptable Monday? Remember I scheduled a couple of these…woops. Head for a walk around the neighbourhood and grab a sourdough loaf from a local bakery £3 on sale because it is late in the day.
7pm- G’s turn to cook so he whips up a Korean beef stir fry. While he sorts dinner I prep for tomorrows dinner as it takes longer and I know we will be hungry when we get in from work. I roast 3 aubergine tossed in zataar, cumin, paprika, salt and pepper.
7.30pm- dinner was fab. After devouring it we choose some dates for a holiday over the late May bank holidays.
9pm - change into pjs and watch some tv.
11pm- bed.
Day total: £3
Day 4:
7.30am- office day today! While G snoozes I put on the kettle and some of the sourdough into the toaster for him. I have a quick shower.
8am- time for the sardine commute. Get super lucky and snag a seat.
8.40am- get a flat white at Pret (free).
8.50pm- sat down, emails time.
10.30pm- leave the office with my boss for an external meeting. Go by tube, my total travel costs for the day will be £8.10.
1.30pm- back at the office with an itsu miso soup + salmon avocado sushi box £7.50. I’m normally great at packing lunch, but I had no idea how long the site visit would take. Enter some back to back meetings.
3.30pm- get a herbal tea from pret (free) and eat some biscuits that I was given at the meeting earlier. Keep at my emails.
6pm- look around and my whole team has gone. Time for me to duck out! Call my mum to catch up on my way home.
7pm- finish cooking the dish I started last night. Fry up onion and garlic with loads of spices, add chickpeas, tinned tomatoes and some tomato purée. Add the aubergine to heat it up and serve with some basmati rice and homemade hummus.
8pm- put on another wash and read a bit before watching some TV.
G didn’t spend anything
Total: £15.60
Day 5:
7.30am - up, shower, pack lunch, run out door at 8. Don’t get as lucky today so there are no seats
8.45am - switch it up and get a hot chocolate this morning (free) and crack on with work.
1pm - heat up my lunch (yesterday’s leftovers) and eat with my colleagues in the canteen. Pop out for a coffee (free).
4.30pm - stretch my legs by walking to Pret and treating a colleague to a coffee (I try to give coffees out!) and keep at it until 6.30pm.
7pm - meet a friend at padella and catch up over some amazing pasta. We get 3 to share: cacio e pepe, a stuffed pasta, and fettuccine with nduja. Such a good pasta spot, they are all great. She doesn’t drink mid week, and I’m grateful as I wasn’t really in the mood for alcohol today. I invite her £50.
9pm - in return she shouts me an ice cream (I get a mango sorbet) as we walk towards her bus stop.
10pm - home, shower, YouTube food videos in bed.
G doesn’t spend anything today
Total: £58.10
Day 6:
8am - G is going into the office, I am not so I decide to be healthy and go on a morning hot girl walk. I get caught in the rain so instead it’s a morning looking like a wet dog walk.
9am - review documents from my junior and have a few stand up meetings.
1pm - meet my mum for a quick sushi lunch. I get a tempura special box which has some tuna and salmon sashimi, miso soup, salad, rice, 2 shrimp tempura, one aubergine tempura. I try to pay, she never lets me. (Would have been £15+tip)
2pm - 3 hours of meetings let’s gooo (cuppa in hand)
6pm - we are DONE. Pop out to get final dinner bits, and put a couple of bottles of white in the fridge £14.
7pm- 3 of my friends come over I cook a River Cafe sausage pasta dish. It is tomatoey, spicy, creamy and all around a great crowd pleaser. Serve it with a green salad. We devour some fruit and chocolate for dessert.
10.30pm - my friends head off after a lovely and wholesome evening. G gets home shortly after from an evening out with some mates (he spent £30 today). Shower. Bed.
Total: £44
Day 7:
8am - finally get around to returning the parcels we packaged up on the weekend. It’s still a grim week so we forgo a walk :(
9am - work through until lunch.
12pm - reheat leftovers from dinner yesterday.
1pm - send out some end of week emails, and review a very long document.
5.30pm - sign off for the weekend woo! Change, make my hair more presentable, and take a long walk to dinner.
6.45pm - meet a uni friend at a great Vietnamese spot and split a few dishes. We get some beers and share fried veggie spring rolls, Vietnamese curry over broken rice, and a pork and vermicelli dish. £28 each
8.15pm - walk her back (a leisurely we are both super full pace walk) to her bus stop and then walk back to mine. Get a sweet craving and buy some chocolate £2 on the way.
9.30pm - G is out with some friends so I have a camomile with the chocolates while I watch some TV. Have a shower and head to bed, no idea when G gets home as I am peacefully sleeping (probably snoring)...
G spent £50 on his night out
Total day spend: £80
Total spend of us both this week: £354.70
My total spend: £125 (35% of our total spend)
I’d say this is an slightly lower than average spend week, we very regularly hit 500-600. It’s rare that we don’t have a big purchase or two, but our spend on food and activities here is average! I would say we probably go to a play or the cinema every week, which we didn't do this week, but I'm always on the lookout for good theatre deals so rarely spend >£30pp on that.

More context: “i know a guy” = a time when you flexed your contacts & pulled something difficult off for friends/family/colleagues/romantic interest and basically became the toast of your circle. Who is the guy? How did you know him (or her)? What did you pull off? Tell us the story!

Thank you very much for a mailbox full of interesting facts and the well-wishes of Spring!
u/AlfredTheButt-ler - I love the stylized art of the Carlsbad Caverns card; I also agree with you in about the wonder of the color orange. Thank you for taking the time to write to and send me a card.
u/rhapsodytravelr The coffee and breakfast rituals of humanity are fascinating to me - how we take our coffee, what constitutes breakfast, how we relax and consume, and rush and consume. What I think particularly cool about the timing for your lovely card and message arriving, is that a colleague had just sent me a jar of Singaporean kaya (I had never heard of before) to have with toast. It was kismet!
u/keqani I hope by the time this thank you arrives, you are over your sore throat. Thanks for sending along a lovely card with a warm image that I can get lost momentarily in. I love miso soup myself - and have gotten into the habit of buying freeze-dried miso soup to have on hand for those moments I need something warm and savoury.
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