Successful people often possess similar characteristics, one of which is maintaining physical health. In the clip below from @GRIDMETALS $GRDM President, Director, and CEO Robin Dunbar, we hear him explain these traits and how they relate to the pursuit of excellence.
We will be #live with Robin, on Tuesday May 14th at 7pm ET. Please join us for a company update and overview: https://events.ftmig.ca/follow-the-money-investor-gGrid-Metals-Corp-Company-Update-and-Overview

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As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

Spring is winding down, summer's on it's way; would love to get a little cash to fund the summer fun (and the next parts order). Still, trades are always on the table. Don't be shy with the cheapies.
TLDR
I got:

• A bunch of unique handmade stuff, including fuzzes, drives, and filters.
• Some 9V/12V practice amps I made from old speakers.
• A handful of cheapies
• A digitech Multi-FX
• Some bulky items for local trade in the Nashville, TN area.

I want:

• Just about anything related to musical instruments and music making: Effects, instruments, gizmos, recording stuff, etc.
• Or lots of other things not remotely related to music. Try me.
• Or money
• I mean, basically, if you want a pedal, especially a handmade one, and are willing to send me something of reasonable value for it, you have a good shot at getting it.

DIY STUFF
(If you are NOT into handmade stuff, scroll down because I have some other items at the end.)
This is hand-built stuff that I made, mostly relatively unique or heavily tweaked designs built on vero or point to point. Many are housed in upcycled tins, a few in Hammond boxes. They all run on standard 9v pedal power. These aren't clones for the most part, unless they are; but normally I actually monkey about with the circuits quite a bit or just test out wacky ideas. If you want something nobody else has, you're in the right place…
I have the handmades valued in 4 tiers:

• D tier are my trashy cheapies, made from reclaimed components. I don't feel right asking a lot for reclaimed components. I value them in the $40 - $50 range, not really picky about what I trade for. I might even take dirt pedals for these. Only got one left, trying to phase out this tier.
• C tier are the cheapies made with new components. I value these in the $50 - $60 range, not very picky here either.
• B tier are my average builds, I will trade for pedals in the $65-$90 value range, depending on the complexity of the build. A little pickier, but still pretty open.
• A tier are my happy happy builds, usually more complex or just nicer quality. I will be picky about trades for these. (But still not Boutique prices; I have no delusions). It's probably less about value here and more about how much I actually want the thing you have. Think in the $90 - $130 range.

MOBILE USERS: There are 4 columns in the tables below: Name, Tier, Links, and Notes. If you don't see all 4, scroll over or ask for more info.
Fuzzes

Name	Tier	Links	Notes
Bazz Me Fuss You #1	A	PIC DEMO	A bazz-fussified perversion of the Escobedo push-me-pull-you, featuring controls for octave and volume. This is the first unit I've built using my own custom PCB. Housed in a painted 125B with top jacks.
Space Fuzz	B+	PIC DEMO	This is a Hollis crash sync fuzz that I souped up with an LFO to modulate the filtesync frequency. Really wild flangery/phasey type gated fuzz sound. At the right settings you can get some octave-down effects as well. Housed in a ~3.5 inch square game tin reinforced with recycled plastic. Pretty pleased with this build.
SwirlFuzz	B+	PIC DEMO	Modulated octave fuzz prototype. It's an octave fuzz, but you can switch on an LFO to modulate the octave amount. Controls for Rate, Depth, Gain, and Volume, plus switches for waveshape and mode (Normal/Octave/Modulated). In a circular tin reinforced with recycled plastic.
Baller Fuzz	B	PIC DEMO	Another Bazz-Me-Fuss-You build with an added BMP-style tone control. In a slightly beaten-up heart-shaped basketball tin. Y'all ready for this?
Big Green Fuzz for Attractive Bass Players	B	PIC Demo	Like my bazz-me-fuss-you circuit, but with a big muff tone stack, a clean blend, and optional clippers for more compression. Housed in a big round tin reinforced with recycled plastic and designed specifically for attractive bass players. Unattractive ones may not really gel with this.
Creature from the planet Chyowngg	B	PIC Demo	Prototype of a unique fuzz I've been developing that I call the Chyowngg fuzz. It's a 2-stage octaver that gives a bright synthy tone with a distinctive envelope (hence the name). You can toggle each stage from octave to non-octave mode for a variety of interesting timbres. Also has a tone control, but the tone control is before the octave stages so it results in interesting behaviors depending on the switch settings. It's in a tin meant to be painted like an alien, though some say it looks more like a triceratops.
Dumbo's Bazzrite Fussrite	C	PIC Demo	A bazz-fussified mosrite fuzzrite circuit I cobbled together in point-to-point wiring style. Housed in a little Dumbo puzzle tin with GLITTER! Controls are for balance (kind of tone-cum-gain) and volume.
Wiff Spwinkles on Top	C	PIC Demo	This point-to-point fuzz lives in the same neighborhood as the Harmonic Percolator, but has a few differences. I altered the way the gain knob works, and added a switch to toggle bass cut. It's housed in an ice-creamity welly tin.

Drives, Distortions, and Boosts

Name	Tier	Links	Notes
Bronze Drive	A	PIC Demo	This is a point-to-point, transistor based overdrive I designed based loosely on the Davisson Easy Drive. Good for low-gain crunchy tones and plenty of output volume on tap if you want it for a boost. Tone circuit is like a BMP stack but with a mid hump instead of a mid cut. Housed in a painted 125B.
Copper ZenerMorph Drive	B	PIC Demo	This is an experiment in zener diode clipping. Nice crispy drive that gets beefier as you turn up the gain, lots of good edge-of-breakup tones to be had. Housed in a decorated tin reinforced with some recycled plastic.
Shining Hope Drive	B	PIC Demo	Differential mirroring drive, gives a kind of overdriven-mixer-channel distortion. Controls for gain, tone, and volume. Housed in a star-shaped Christmas tin.
B is for Beast	C	PIC DEMO	This fun little drive/boost consists of two cascading MOSFET gain stages with optional clipping in between. It goes from clean and loud to massive wall-of-gain distortion nicely. Controls for gain, clipping, and volume. In a small heart-shaped tin about 4in by 4in.
Green Sparkler Boost	D	PIC	Just an Escobedo Duende JFET boost built point-to-point in a sparkly little round tin. Gives a little gain and a bit of warmth to the tone.

Non-Dirt

Name	Tier	Links	Notes
Quack like a penguin	B+	PIC DEMO	Third build of the Chykka Wakka, a WIP all-transistor envelope filter. This one is built on vero, and features controls for Q, Range, and Attack, as well as toggles for Voicing and envelope smoothing. Housed in a smallish penguin tin reinforced with recycled plastic.
Gift of Chykka Wakka	B	PIC DEMO	First build of an all-transistor envelope filter I designed. Built point-to-point style and housed in a little giftbox tin reinforced with recycled plastic. Controls for Q and Sweep, switch toggles envelope smoothing.
Vortex of Funk	B	PIC DEMO	Second build of the Chykka-Wakka circuit, this one features attack, Q, and range controls. Built point-to-point and housed in a painted tin.
BZZZ BOOP BEEP	B	PIC DEMO	A basic square wave oscillator on a momentary switch. Can go from bzzz to boop to beep with a sweep of the big knob. Also has tone and volume controls, and a 3-way switch for different decay amounts. Use it to simulate a spring door stopper or dying cow. Or bleep your foul-mouthed frontman. Or mess with the sound guy. Or send Morse code to the bar. I dunno. Housed in a painted tin reinforced with recycled plastic.

Little Amps

Name	Price/Trades	Links	Description
Ample iMank	$65	PICS DEMO	This is a Runoffgroove Ruby Amplifier built into this old multimedia speaker enclosure designed to look like an old iMac. Glows blue when you turn it on. It runs from a standard 9v pedal power. It's not terribly loud, nor terribly clean, but if you dig the classic mac vibe it might be fun. Controls for gain and volume, and a power switch on the back.
Nosy Amp	$75	PICS DEMO	Another solid-state amp based on the Ruby amplifier, housed in a repurposed bookshelf speaker. This one actually has pretty decent volume, even on 9V (can run on 12V as well for more), and can stay clean while getting loud enough for a quiet jam with friends.
Fleur-de-Lis Amp	$90	PICS DEMO	A tiny bookshelf speaker turned into a practice amp. This one features a class D power amp for lovely cleans, and a custom designed discrete preamp that gets punchy & crunchy when cranked. Runs on 9V but pretty loud nonetheless.

Non-DIY Stuff
Make an offer. I respect Reverb Price Guide values, though I may lean high if it's a feeler.

Brand	Name	Condition	Notes
Danelectro	Fab Chorus	Excellent	Cheap plastic chorus, but sounds great. Probably just a make-weight, too cheap to trade on its own.
Caline	10-band EQ	Good	Works fine, I just don't really need 10 bands of EQ. Has velcro on the back, and sometimes makes a weird noise when you turn on the pedalboard. Another make-weight.
Ibanez	PH7	Good	Tonelok phaser. Great pedal, has some glue on the bottom I couldn't get off, but works fine.
BOSS	TU-12H	Good	Crusty vintage tuner from Boss. Still works great, but it's missing the outer case (still has the inner part). If you had one in the day and want to relive the magic, feel free to make an offer.
Digitech	RP360	Very Good	Great multifx, I've gotten some fun sounds out of it, but it isn't seeing much use. I'm just more of a discrete FX guy I guess.
MOTU	MIDI express	Good	This is an antique MIDI patchbay and interface. It's pre-USB and uses the parallel cable (PC) or some kind of Apple-specific DIN cable (Mac). Could be used standalone, or maybe you're into retro MIDI setups? Comes with box and cables anyway.
unknown builder	PedalPCB Cataclysm	Very Good	This is a really solid build of a PedalPCB cataclysm (Disaster Transport Jr clone) built by someone other than me. Pics here. Not sure what to value it, but make an offer.

Local (Nashville TN area) ONLY

Brand	Name	Condition	Notes
TEAC	A3340S 4-Track Reel-to-Reel	Good	Cleaned up, oiled up, and in good working order last time I tried it out. Meant to do some analog recording, but just haven't gotten the time or space. Would trade for a decent instrument of some kind. Might even throw in a copy of Craig Anderton's "Home Recording for Musicians", which uses the same unit.
Altec-Lansing	Power amp (9442A)	Fair	300 W, 2 rack-unit power amp, can work in stereo or bridged mode. Last time I used it one of the channels was a little flaky. Couldn't be bothered to fix it myself. Heavy as all get out, I'll sell for cheap if you're local.

What would I trade for??
I'm wide open to trades for music gear of all kinds and other items of value.
Some Priority Wants:

• A next level looper like the Pigtronix Infinity 3. Feeling limited by my current setup. Something with MIDI sync, multiple loop tracks, tempo sync.
• Boss OC-5.
• A reverb with a really good plate algorithm.
• Compact 12 channel mixer. Preferably a Mackie VLZ or similar.
• Isolated pedal power supply.
• Genuine e-Bow. Already own 2 clones, looking to try the real shebang.
• A multiple-MIDI I/O unit.
• A 1-U rack-mount mixer.
• Money.

Other things I'd likely trade for:

• Pedals, naturally:
  • Especially fancy DSP type pedals (the kind I can't build), or a nice analog flangechorus.
  • Decent analog pedals that need repair. Expect a lot of questions and not much value, though.
  • Check "probably not wants" below
• Studio gear like mics, headphones, cables, small mixers, rack gear, etc.
• Synths and midi gear, especially cheap stuff like Volcas or Reface, etc. Really need a MIDI interface with multiple I/O.
  • I kinda dig old casio/yamaha cheapies.
  • Drum machines are interesting to me.
• Musical instruments? I play about everything, or would like to try anyway.
  • I'd like to acquire a tele style guitar at some point. Even just a cheapie knockoff.
  • If you've got a not-too-expensive Ibanez fretless bass (or similar), let's talk. I'll offer things on the secret menu.
• Also Non-music things:
  • Unbuilt pedal kits, pedal enclosures, bulk lots of electronics parts, etc.
  • Electronics/DIY tools or supplies (scope, transistor tester, solder, etc)
  • Something weird and creative. Random items of modest value you want to get rid of. Handmade items that are giftable.
  • Did I mention money? I do paypal and venmo.

Probably not wants (doesn't apply to C or D-tier builds, offer anything for those):

• Dirt pedals. Might make an exception for something really intriguing, though.
• Eurorack modules, unless anyone wants to trade me a whole starter setup (yeah, probably not, right?)
• Guitaamp/cab parts. Not really into modding that stuff. Yet.
• Behringer pedals. Just not a fan.
• Any pedal whose value is primarily as a collectible (Vintage, Rare editions/colorways/signature models, etc)
• If I can get it on Amazon or Reverb for under $50, I'd rather we bundled a few things to make it worth the shipping cost.

A Note about mods/repairs/custom jobs: Feel free to shoot me your ideas, but probably I'm leaning toward not doing these. Expect to pay/trade way more for something custom than what I ask for the pedals I've already built.

Gday team. I have a note I add to when I learn things about SM. I got sick of seeing the same questions so I every time I answered I added to the note and just pasted a generic reply. I’ve been invited to post it here, so here you are!
Here’s my ever-growing, non-specific copy-paste reply, built from my own notes:

• Remember, followers are only for your ego. If you’re a business, Would you rather have a million followers who never buy anything or 1000 followers who purchase everything? (Read Kevin Kelly’s 1000 true fans article). However, if you’re trying to build an account for a brand or human deals, you need as many as possible. I.e. athletes wanting future deals/contracts, actresses wanting future roles, etc
  
• Dollars are the only score that matters in business. You can sell 1 million $1 items or 1x $1m item, it’s still a million dollars
  
• How do you get your first ten followers/sales? ASK. Start with your friends/family/personal socials. “Hey, I've started this thing; I'd love for you to follow”. Then contact everyone you've ever known (see cold outreach later, but this is warm haha). THEN ask them all for referrals: “who do you know that could use my help?”
  
• Re: cold contacting. Have a framework, but don't automate. Solve their problems. Say something personal (” [mutual person] told me to reach out to you” / “I really like your x” /”congratulations on y”). I noticed that [problem]. Fix their problem. Wish them a nice day. Have an offer in your email signature.
  
• Your profile description should be a hook/tagline / USP and link to your offer. Remember you’re building your house on rented land if you use socials as your client base. Algorithm changes, and they’re gone. Try sending them off socials to your email list, learn storytelling in email marketing (Russell Brunson has good advice), and you will own that contact for life.
  
• Choose a monetisable niche, find the most successful person in that niche, and put your spin on what they’re doing (ask AI)
  
• Make GOOD content that is visually appealing, entertaining, and has hooks (you have 3 seconds to get attention), but most importantly, ADDS VALUE to your target market (ask AI for suggestions - you can even ask AI to create a customer avatar for you and then ask it how to make good, relevant IG posts for that avatar)
  
• Keep your ears and eyes out for trends. Can you throw a trending song over a clip?
  
• Leverage pop culture. Search for what’s trending daily. Can you combine a movie or album release with your product? For example, if you’re in the auto niche, create an image of a car covered in green slime coinciding with the new Ghostbusters movie
  
• Document your process. Humans evolved on stories & we love to feel part of something and/or have front-row tickets to the show. For example, If you post art, film yourself making the art, not just the final product; talk about your decisions along the way. Also, it is easy content for you, and you’re just filming something you’re already doing
  
• Share as many success stories/testimonials as possible, preferably videos. Tag them. Make it easy for users to share themselves.
  
• In a similar vein, and with permission, share your audience questions in your stories (and tag them)
  
• Remember the rule of 100 (you need to do something 100x before you get “good” at it). Have you posted 100x and made changes as you’ve observed what worked and what didn’t?
  
• Every 5th or so post, add a Call To Action
  
• Always have something to invite people to, such as an event (e.g. Facebook live, face-to-face), a giveaway, a new product, etc. Ensure all your social media banners, popups, CTAs & email sig reflect this (read Book Yourself Solid by Michael Port)
  
• Use the right hashtags (be discoverable)
  
• Post at the correct times for your target market (I like 6-630am so when they wake up and scroll, it’s on their feed, their lunch break and a story at 8 pm in the relevant timezone). Steven Bartlett credits the daily 8pm personal thought post the most important part of his success.
  
• Follow the top 100 people in your niche with between 10k & 100k followers. Engage with them daily. Share their posts. Comment on Their work. As always, be sincere and say something meaningful
  
• Comment relevant things on important people pages (Gary Vees $1.80 strategy)
  
• Spend $10 a day on ads of targeted content to targeted people (don’t “but I want to grow organically” - Do you want to be seen or not?). Start ad sets at midnight.
  
• Russell Brunson recommends ads are only for offers; posts that aren't offers aren’t to be paid for ads—two separate things. Ads get your customers into the funnel and upsell makes you a profit. Say you sell a $10 ebook and a $300 course. Spend $10 per click for the ebook, so it’s a break-even cost, and everyone who buys the upsell is pure profit. Ad budget for testing is the price/profit of ONE upsell, so $300 in this example. Then, reassess, test and adjust. If it’s working, keep it going, but also test variations regardless. Brendan Kane suggests 50-100 variations from memory. Again, get AI to help. Start with your headline. Ask for ten variations. Then your pic. Get ten variations. Then your hook. Get ten variations etc.
  
• Pay relevant influencers to share your stuff
  
• Read all of Gary Vees and Brendan Kane’s books
  
• Do these things 30-50x a day (Gary Vees' advice for new accounts, search for his eight tips 2024 YT vid) across all your platforms for months, maybe years, and you’ll grow. Perhaps someone famous will share your stuff, and you’ll go viral. But remember, each platform has its nuances, so you need to rework content for it (again, use AI - create one piece and ask AI to brainstorm how to recreate for each platform - you can start with the longest form, say a YouTube vid or blog post and ask it how to make tweets or IG posts from it) however you can still “push”. For example, you can post native Facebook content, but you can also put your YouTube vids and IG posts there
  
• Make at least three posts a day for a month, that's 90 posts, and report back what you learned, what worked and didn’t for everyone else’s benefit. *I've had some pushback on this: A) I don’t make the rules; this seems to be current best practice; B) 1st post = a BTS post of you developing the post, 2nd post = the post, 3rd post = a story summing up your day. OR make all your content in one day and schedule it to post throughout the week. If you don’t have money, you have time; if you have money, outsource it.
  
• Good luck!
  

So yeah, after having been with the company for some time, I got the short end of the stick. I kind of felt that it would happen sooner or later with all the other recent layoffs. Anyways, I'm looking at what is required of me, and honestly, it's a lot of stuff in a short amount of time where I'm already engaged in some heavy work. Pretty much seems they want me out. After some emotional outbursts and some crying sessions, I had a talk with my siblings. They initially said to try and tough it out, but as time went on, they changed their opinion, that I should just take the money and go. At least I felt better after talking with them.
Even with 5 business days to think about it, I could have signed it today to leave now, but I got stocks vesting in a few days, so I definitely want to wait until they vest before the signing. I had looked up a few things regarding my other benefits and such, and while I get paid for all the unused vacation time I have, I don't for PTO, Sick, etc. I do feel like just using PTO this week until my stocks vest, then signing to get the severance and heading out, but I also don't want to feel like a jerk to my teammates because we're currently in some major projects. Still, I'm already on my way out by Amazon's placement of me on PIP. If I use my PTO now, I technically get paid for it and won't get additional stress, but then I sort of end up screwing people over that did nothing to me.
If I were to use my PTO like this, could they make a case where they could cancel those stocks soon to be vested? And is there anything else I should look into before signing?

I finished Gabriel's 10-week squat program on his app today. My back squat max before the program was 113 kg, and I hit 127 kg today. I weigh about 82 kg and have been weightlifting for 6 months. Overall, I liked the program and felt I was able to increase my PR by more than I had expected. The program was 10 weeks long, with 3 sessions a week, and each session took me around 2 hours to complete.
If you know Gabriel, then you know he loves volume. There were a lot of sets and reps, and there was a lot of waving in terms of load. I found the program to be challenging, and I even missed a couple of reps/sets along the way. But overall, it seemed pretty doable, and I never felt overwhelmed. I really liked the balance between all the exercises. Each session spent an equal amount of time on the classic lifts, back squats, and accessories. For every set and rep in the squats, there was an equal amount of work in accessories and other strength exercises like pulls and presses.
My favorite thing about the program was that it felt like it was building my whole body rather than just my quads. With the amount of work on hamstrings, lower back, and upper back, I always felt that the rest of my body was keeping up with my quads, and this focus on general strength kept me relatively injury-free. The biggest gain I noticed was not the 1RM strength but more the work capacity of my legs and the speed/rhythm of my squats. If I go back and watch my videos, I can see that the speed of my squats stayed relatively the same from 50% up to 90%+. I also felt that I had gotten much more explosive and started developing that signature Gabriel gunshot sound in my snatches and clean and jerks.
Regarding the Super Weightlifting app, I liked its build and functionality and felt all my needs were met. There is also a section in the app where you can post your lifting videos for form checks. I was able to get responses from Gabriel in less than 24 hours, even when he was traveling, and he would generally answer any follow-up questions on the same night. However, I feel you might have a different experience depending on your time zone.
All in all, I am happy with my progress, and I felt it was worth the money I paid. I will now be trying out his 5-day-a-week weightlifting program and probably do another squat cycle after that.

Just watched a clip and David said that Trump has no agenda. I vigorously disagree.
When candidates talk, they spew agenda. It’s all they know to do. Some spew it just a little and others projectile vomit, and Trump is actually showing some strategy here (who knew) by not being all projectile about it.
Trump’s Agenda
Full indictments of all his enemies, which means most of Washington. Billions would be spent!
It’ll be interesting to see if they’re the first that will get the death penalty when he brings it back federally.
Goodbye NATO, hello more war.
Goodbye climate change progress, hello nothing at all because that money will be used on BS like freedom cities. 😂
North Korean style hold over the media.
He’s definitely screwing up education if he gets in.
There will be chaos in law enforcement and as a result, neighbourhoods as he throws illegal immigrants in concentration (I mean, intern) camps, and deports them.
National Guard (while probably also busy with immigrants) will also be taking out the homeless and joining law enforcement in the streets.
Militarization of the border.
Invasion of Mexico.
Forget any abortion rights at all.
More taxes and tariffs, which means Americans pay more and twice.
Gay and trans rights … get outta here!
Jan 6 rioters would get pardoned and that will lead to more of the same because the consequences are gone.
He will fight for a 3rd term.
He’ll basically gut every government department he doesn’t understand which, I’m sure, is most. Goodbye science funding.
But luckily, it doesn’t matter because there is no version of reality where he wins again.
There is also a version of reality where he does nothing and just steals from the US to pad his pockets.
Which do you think is more likely?

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/Complex-Wing7114
I have 2 weeks to get away from my husband
Originally posted to offmychest
Thanks to u/soayherder for suggesting this BoRU
TRIGGER WARNING: controlling behavior, threats, abusive behavior, stalking
Original Post Apr 27, 2024
Throwaway account as my husband and In-laws are follow my main. I, 29 F, have been married to my husband, 30 m, who I'll call Alex. Alex and I met in college during our freshman year. We started off as just friends, and got married seven months ago. I've gotten along with his family, but we aren't super close but we're friendly enough. The problem is that Alex has begun to make me incredibly uncomfortable.
Firstly, he's begun to ask me who I'm meeting with, where, what we plan on doing, how long every single time I leave the house without him. At first, I just thought he was being protective and a good partner just in case something happened, but then he started checking my phone after the visits, vetting and researching each of my friends as well.
He also has been pursuing me to link my bank account to his, as he's "in charge" of the finances when he was perfectly fine with keeping them separate before. We fight about it almost every day.
Finally, yesterday when he was preparing to go on a work trip for two weeks in California, he demanded I wear a tracker so he could keep and eye on me while he's gone. I can't do this anymore, I feel like I'm suffocating and his family who I've spoken to about his worrying behavior just said he's being careful and protective as a good husband should. I need to gather my things together and find a way to be gone before he gets home without tipping him off.
He's always threatened that if he ever found me cheating on him he'd turn in divorce papers the same day. He keeps a filled out copy in his desk. I'm going to submit those the day I leave. But there's so much to do, bergen finding a new place to live, seeing if my job has any transfers available, packing and moving in two weeks. His return flight May 11th, so I need to move quickly. I'm posting here because I don't have any close family, and I can't risk dragging my friends into this as we share the same friends.I just needed a place to vent, and ask if anyone has any advice on the easiest and safest way to do this?
Edit: oh my god you guys are amazing! I never even thought to not use his divorce papers. I'll check for cameras before I start any packing or prepping. I may also shred his divorce papers just in case and look into getting a lawyer for myself. I'm in a no fault divorce state, that much I so remember which will help. I'll update again when I know more. The tracker he wants me to use is a small clip to put on the belt or waistband. I'll wear it unless I'm going or doing something related to me leaving. No pets yet thankfully.
Update Apr 28, 2024
So I've gotten a lot of support and helpful advice along with questions I thought I should clarify before I proceed with the update. Some asked why I'd be 'hiding' things from Alex regarding going out and who I'm meeting with. I don't, and I have nothing to hide. However when he begins to then double check everything I tell him with the other people there right down to each person I talked to and what I said. Did I send any text msgs, did I order food, how much did I eat, that's when it started to feel like I was slowly being pushed into a corner. It didn't start that bad, but gradually grew worse overtime.
All of the Reddit subs my in-law's families are part of are related gardening and diy so I highly doubt they'll see this, if so by the time they do, I'll hopefully be gone. I talked to my job and explained things to my manager. And they promised to look into openings in other states to see if they could get me into one. They'll have an update on that in three days. I trust that my bank account us secured, considering he's tried to get into it before and failed. I found one camera in the kitchen, another in the living room and one in our bedroom. As such, I've left them in place for now and done all other planning, either in the bathroom pretending I'm taking a bath.
I'm honestly staying away from the domestic violence services as my sister-in-law is unfortunately higher up in those considering she volunteers there and I have a feeling if I did show up there, they would know in a heartbeat. I can't look for apartments until I get the update from my work, but either or i'm still gonna be leaving the state. The day before I do I will be changing my number carrier and wiping my laptop and all of his electronics before I do.
I've met with 2 lawyers so far and had them look over the paperwork. My husband had prepared and both said that it did it have some clauses in it. That could have caused me some trouble down the line. What alarmed all of us close the fact that several of those clauses dealt with future children, and not as a hypothetical. Like several hair suggested I have a feeling he fully intended on getting me pregnant to keep me trapped and tied to him.
There are 3 other locations. My job could send me to and I have. As a precaution Begun looking into all 3 cities and housing in the areas. Just in case one of those, this is the one they send me to. Even if they don't have an opening that they can push me into then I will just have to quit, move and figure things out on my own. I have enough money to live and survive for a few months until I can pick up another job.
Unfortunately all of our friends are mutuals and would likely be unaware of the consequences of saying or sharing anything I do or say with my husband. I don't have any surviving close family and obviously my in laws are not a good resource to rely on. I am on my own unfortunately, other than the wonderful bonds, i've begun to make here. I will update again if I get more information or something else happens. Otherwise all update when my work gets back to me. I do plan on leaving before he returns, though. Just to make sure that i'm not anywhere near here at that time.
Update 2 Apr 30, 2024
Good news! My work has an opening I qualify for that will not only shift me across the country, but also comes with a salary increase as well. I've started telling my in laws and friends that I'm planning a surprise outing for when my husband gets back for just the two of us. This way, people don't give me odd looks if they see me out and about. I've even gone as far as asking MIL to show me his favorite recipes.
Meanwhile, I've found a moving company that while small is willing to work in a storm. The reason is in five days, we're supposed to get hit with a large storm front. I plan to shut off the breaker and say we lost power if he asks just as several people here suggested and even send him a short clip of the storm.
I will have all of my stuff moved that afternoon, and I will be flying out once the weather has cleared enough to do so. I have a lawyer who will push my divorce through, and I've filled out the necessary paperwork so that I don't have to be here for it. I'm not suing for assets or alimony and I've shredded his divorce papers as well. I've set up a cheap payphone plan through cricket until this is all said and done at which point I will find a new carrier, number and phone. This one is being wiped and left behind.
My laptop is provided by my work, and the IT department inspected it thoroughly and it was clean thankfully. No other electronic aside from my laptop and new phone will be coming with me. If alex needs to talk to me, he can do it through my lawyer. Not sure if anything else will happen, my fingers are crossed that he doesn't think anythings amiss until after I leave - and I'm not turning the breaker back on when I do. He can when he gets home. My work is covering the plane ticket, so that at least is one expense I don't have to finagle in.
Update 3 May 7, 2024
Update 3: I have 2 weeks to get away from my husband.
It's been a busy week, but I've gotten so much done. Firstly, I am now out of the house and am currently in a hotel while I look for an apartment. It's a big city, bustling with people no matter where you look. We had a pretty bad storm system hit back home, that actually lasted two days. High winds, thunder, lightning and even hail everywhere. I didn't take much from the house, my documents, clothes and important sentimental items. I left all of the furniture and electronics behind. I cleaned the house top to bottom and took pictures on my phone so he couldn't claim I damaged anything when I left.
My lawyer has already started divorce proceedings, and my husband will be served on the 8th. His plane is due to land early morning, and the sheriff will be there at the house waiting for him. He is very much about public appearances and reputation. My lawyer will be calling him as well to inform him that I am more than willing to air out everything to the public about his actions if it means securing my freedom from him. I will go to court as long as I must to get this pushed through.
I haven't told our friends or his in-laws yet, I will do that while he is on the flight to prevent him from getting wind of it before he's handed the divorce papers. I will be calling around and explaining why we're getting divorced, to try and prevent him from twisting this into somehow being my fault. I don't want him trying to claim I had an affair or something so I want to get the truth out before he can twist this.
I'm... doing okay. I'm tired, but yet I feel almost jittery and off-kilter. I keep looking over my shoulder and monitoring what I say even when I don't really need to anymore. Hopefully that will fade soon. My work is covering the cost of the hotel, and I'm working on getting my other things in order. I also need to find a new GP as I want to get a full test just to make sure everything is okay. I don't know when my next update will be, probably when the divorce papers are filed or if we have to go to court to push them through. I will try to keep my head up, but it feels like I'm in a whirlwind or something with so many things to do and think about. I kinda thought it would be easier once I got out of the house but while the fear is smaller, somehow the number of tasks only seems to have grown.
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Western media stopped talking honestly about Ukraine years ago. I watched as even outlets like Democracy Now! stopped reporting on the CIA backed coup there in 2014, and subsequent nazi problems which were in the NYT for years. There is still a law in effect that we cant give weapons to Azovs, which is obviously ignored. We gave long range missiles to Urkaine. The HIMARS and Patriot batteries arent trusted to Azovs, we staff them. French journalists embedded w Syrian volunteers shot video of US Army uniformed soldiers doing intake and command/control. American boots are on the ground. We threaten Russia existentially. Putin had been trying for a decade to get Western journalists to pay attention--Oliver Stone made a movie--before he joined an ongoing civil war.
Pepe Escobar, impeccable creds, got from a source, independently confirmed by two states, that Israel loaded nukes on a bomber and was gonna EMP Iran. But Russian fighters shot it down.
It explains a lot of posturing that changed at the time. Powerful people think it happened
https://youtu.be/hCoTdl7BLNo?si=3FLD2k6Bxb4phu9Q
Bout 28 mins in a warning from Lavrov: https://youtu.be/l99u2JNnorQ?si=-_Mql4c9Ep4WLZz3 ***this link doesn work, looking for the clip but its from the same ep as this clip which sums it up: https://youtu.be/SySdmLiIQ50?si=hIvuBdYJYuiy6VpK Jeffrey Sachs. Here we go: https://youtu.be/U_z1ifGYwr8?si=u-Ge5j-mnMiVC8v5 But lets focus on Trump's hush money trial, amirite?
The orgs that track nuclear war risk say we are closer than the Cuban Missile Crisis.

She has become an extremely unlikeable typical shallow shitty "iNflUeNcEr". Especially after the fake lashes situation for which she refused to take any accountability, even though she was intentionally misleading her followers for money. She has lost all credibility and that is beside the fact that she seems extremely shallow and materialistic.
Also, those short clips/reels she makes with her boyfriend are so forced and fake; everyone can portray their relationship as the absolute perfect one on camera for likes, validation and praise. It is so cringe, attention hungry and desperate to feel the need to basically use your boyfriend (husband now?) as some type of show horse to show everyone how "peRfeCt" your relationship is.
I wish this TikTok generation would stop idealizing people like this and no longer give them a giant platform to share their shitty "content" on. Because these people don't give a shit about their followers, all they care about is a constant stream of validation and money.

Úrsula Corberó Delgado (born 11 August 1989) is a Spanish actress. She became known in Spain for playing Ruth Gómez in the teen drama series Física o Química (2008–2010), Margarita de Austria in the historical fiction series Isabel (2014), and Marta in the comedy film Girl's Night Out (2015). She gained international recognition for her role as Tokyo in the crime drama series Money Heist (2017–2021) and made her Hollywood debut in the superhero film Snake Eyes (2021).

I think ursual can portray robin mysterious,smart and dark humor personality perfectly in my opinion and she can also easily pull the Save me scene with perfection.

The only downsides is her height as she's only 5ft4 but I do think height isn't really a big deal

Her acting clip
https://youtu.be/QkubWtHYklw?si=pintl0NbNjsEq4h1
https://youtu.be/e0dea7qrLdk?si=Oq6TU4wiCZ2lfSUU
https://youtu.be/LxC1V2Yy_IE?si=ETChj1Mo7PEFBkxf

Her IMDb page https://m.imdb.com/name/nm2216549/

I have many things to say but let me start here... I don't hate you because of "Mommy issues" or because you are "Chosen and a mirror", I absolutely despise you because you are a lying, lazy, scamming, con artist. You are 40 years old without a single thing to show for those 40 years on this earth. You spend 23 hours a day, horizontal, pouting and fake crying at your phone screen to play on people's emotions to manipulate them out of their hard earned money under the guise of diamond art. You have made hundreds of thousands of dollars off of the backs of others but have not improved a single thing in YEARS. You act like a cheap whore on the internet, on a platform that supposedly, the children that you have already severely tarnished, to see you less than half dressed, gyrating your body all over for strangers all over the internet. You've traveled to and from for men off of the internet as well but haven't given it a second thought to get to your children. In fact, there's a clip of you responding to someone asking where you would love to go besides Gstrings and you literally said NOWHERE. You only wanted to go to him. Not your children. A man off the internet who made you out to be a fool for weeks. This whole "Chosen" thing is sickening. You couldn't be farther from a true representation of a Christian woman, living for God. Your visions amd prophecies are a complete joke and another manipulation tactic. You try to weaponize religion and what you are truly doing is dancing with the devil. I assure you that God hasn't asked you to lay in the bed and he will deliver life to you on a silver platter. Be for real. Faith without works is dead. You are NOT autistic. You are mental but some school counselor maybe mentioning ASD in a hallway conversation one day is not a diagnosis. It's SICK that you use this fake diagnosis and use all of the "disadvantages" for lack of better word of the disorder to spin your narrative but somehow you didn't get the many, amazing "advantages" of ASD like resilience, brilliance, determination, drive, etc.. those things don't allow you to be a lazy internet panhandler. Nor can you seemingly forget that you have it, and it disappear for days or weeks until you need it again or someone reminds you. Nobody believes that people "gift" you all the things you claim. Clothes, makeup, champagne, meals, etc... we know that is you blowing the money you manipulated off of others. You need to slow it down on the door dash. Not only is it a slap in the face to the people out here busting their ass to make ends meet while you are living a life of luxury while not moving a muscle but it's very unhealthy and sticking with you. Lastly, I want you to picture yourself in 10, 15, 20 years from now. You have ZERO true life relationships, absolutely nothing to your name. You won't be able to still panhandle, your years of horrible self care and wild lifestyle dragging you down physically, how will you survive? You've put nothing in to any type of retirement, one day you truly won't be able to work, nobody to care for you, just an elderly person with NOTHING. What will you do?? You have burned all bridges. Your family is amazing and you have completely shit on them. Still claiming a little boy who was a quarter of your size physically abused you and everyone in your family harmed you in some way which is such a stretch and in my mind, unforgivable. You will be lonely, broke, and absolutely no legacy to leave behind. Who will be able to stand up and speak about your life and memories or experiences or impacts you've made and left behind?? Nobody. Time is running out. You need to make DRASTIC changes immediately or it's only down hill from here. I know this was insanely long but I had to get it off of my chest after her entire morning of lies and garbage. I truly hope you have read this Tabitha and it helps you understand why you are so disliked by the Majority. Look around. If not for sleepy Amy Lou, you would literally have ZERO support any longer.

Recently Eric Bischoff made a podcast clip where he claimed AJ Styles is in his prime right now here in 2024. But to me AJ Styles entire WWE run he has been phoning it in.
My main problem with AJ in TNA is he had the look and the in ring talent but he never developed a personality or mic skills. Him going to WWE was supposed to fix these things. But if anything it just had him coast the past 7 years.
He grew out his hair and got a strange beard that gave him a bearded soccer mom look. He always looked his best when he was clean shaved and spiked short hair. Why didn’t he use that in WWE? He’s not going bald so he has the hair line.
He also remains boring on the mic. Meanwhile we have articles on The Miz who claims he’s invested money in improv classes and acting classes to improve his mic skills and personality. AJ has so many things the Miz doesn’t have yet Miz remains the bigger star.
AJ never had a prime. He’s like these athletes you see who have all the potential in the world and never put it together. In ring doesn’t matter. Kurt Angle and Bret Hart became beloved for their promos. Kurt was comedy. Bret was the master of the shoot promo.
You can’t just be about wrestling ability because in the end wrestling doesn’t matter in wrestling because the matches are predetermined. Even in UFC where it’s real Khabib destroyed Conor yet nobody knows who he is and everyone knows who Conor is because Conor has mic skills.
Sorry Eric I gotta disagree.

Mom here. It’s my husbands first real father day this year, as his last one was drowned out by newborn phase, hormones, etc.. My husband has really shown up this entire year. I have never been more proud of him as a person, watching him grow into a dad has been the most incredible gift I’ve been given aside from our beautiful daughter. He truly deserves the world. He did such a wonderful job on Mother’s Day and found something super sentimental that I absolutely love, but he’s never been one for getting gifts and I feel like I am at a loss for Father’s Day. Do you guys really want personalized money clips? Aging bottles of liquor? Framed photos? I know it’s not about money whatsoever but.. I’d love to get him something that not only stands the test of time but is also special for him, like he did for me. He’s never been a jewelry guy. A watch is something I’m saving for another occasion. What can I do that will show him exactly how special he is? I know it sounds silly to have to ask, but he’s a simple guy. Doesn’t want fancy shiny things. Help!
edit: to clarify, a homemade dinner, beer, and blowjob is a regular occurrence in this house even on normal not holiday days. Please stop sweating over this, guys. He will be full, and his balls will be empty. I’m looking for something *IN ADDITION* to these things, lol.

Noah The Pilgrim
First Next
There is one last thing to do before leaving. If you don't recall ever being on this ship, then surely, you could have had your appearance change too.
Why was there a blanket covering a mirror? You couldn't answer that with a straight face without speculation.
"Probably me being lazy and not bothering to properly place it in the wardrobe."
'Probably' is the main focus here, you simply cannot remember ever being that lazy, yet that's the only logical conclusion to be drawn here.
You pull the thing off, careful to not displace the mirror and risk breaking it.
You have no expectations as to what may appear on the glassy surface of the mirror, yet you can't help but feel a bit anxious. Are you the same as before? How were you before? You can't remember. Are you better? Worse? The blanket is now completely off the mirror, but your eyes are closed.
Whatever is it that you see when you open your eyes, that thing will be you for the rest of your life. You swallow, opening your eyes.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. His brown eyes stare back at you, analyzing the bags beneath your eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, floating about without order thanks to the lack of gravity to keep it down. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
You touch your hand against your face, making sure it's yours. The beard doesn't feel like you supposed it would against your skin, instead of it scraping your hand you feel softness, no resistance or anything.
Just beneath the face, you see what looks like a hate crime against all that is considered holy in fashion. Plain white coveralls with the added bonus of a black tie and boots made from metal and leather. On your chest is also a badge stuck in place by velcro with your name, occupation, and crew. 'NOAH - INTERN - THE ODYSSEY.'
Only one question came to mind.
"Who the fuck designed this uniform?" You say out loud, receiving no answer.
Patting your newfound myriad of pockets, you find a large quantity of nothing. You place your wallet in one of them.
"Alright, I'll head to the bridge now, happy?" You say the AI.
"HAPPINESS WILL ONLY MEET ME ONCE YOU ARE SOMEWHERE SAFE AND YOUR CONTRACT IS TERMINATED. STOP LOITERING."
Well, that's a bit rude.
You compose yourself, straightening your back. This is what you look like, and honestly? Not too bad, but you could be better.
Returning to the cafeteria, you eye the two doors left unexplored; Communications and the one without plaque. You know where you should, but... A little peek doesn't hurt, right?
"Shouldn't we try to communicate with someone? Assuming you haven't tried it yet. I know we're far from everything, but we might as well, no?" You ask already approaching the door.
"COMMUNICATIONS ROOM IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO REACH WITHOUT PROPER PROTECTION AS OF NOW, IT'S LOCATED APPROXIMATELY TWO HUNDRED METERS FROM HERE, BLOWN OFF FROM THE REST OF THE SHIP." A shame really. "I SHALL INFORM YOU WHENEVER A DOOR LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE OR NOT."
You really want to ask what blew a whole segment of the ship off, yet you have a sneaking suspicion that your question will be met with a 'YOU DON'T HAVE CLEARANCE, JACKASS' directly in your face. So you chose to remain silent, simply nodding and approaching the correct door this time.
"Open."
---OPENING CAFETERIA DOOR NORTH---
The door silently opens.
Greeting you is a well-lit corridor. There are three doors on your left, a door at the end of the corridor, and a large window on the right. At least, you think that's a window.
You stare out from this window, nothing but utter blackness and fragments from your ship are seen. If this is the edge of the universe, and beyond this point, there is truly nothing. "Dreadful." Your speech matches your feelings.
"WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" The AI says. You feel like it spoke in a mocking tone despite their lack of emotion.
You don't answer. "First door to the left... EXO-EXPLORATION...? What's that supposed to mean?" You receive no answer.
"Open." The door opens. No declarion of it opening once again.
You are met with what could be better described as 'Apocalyptic levels of mess', paper sheets float in the air, and not one of the four tables is in its correct position.
This room has been ransacked for all its goods apparently. Large display glasses were broken leaving nothing inside their casings, that looked like they could store something with the size of the common man.
Unusual displays aside, the room was so cluttered that the trash made for an effective smoke screen against what lay on the other side.
Hissing of gas exiting an air-tight space rang throughout the room.
"I HAVE OPENED THE STORAGE FOR AN EXO SUIT THAT BEST FITS SOMEONE YOUR SIZE." The AI says. "ALTHOUGH AN INTERN SHOULD NOT COME IN CONTACT WITH TECHNOLOGY SUCH AS THIS ONE, PROTOCOL DICTATES THAT I AM TO ALLOW ITS USAGE UNDER EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES. CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY."
Easier said than done. Your vision is so cluttered that you cannot see what's ahead. "Give me a second."
Giving a light kick to the wall behind, you float face-first into the wall of thrash. Covering your face with both arms, you brace through the harmless bits of sharp objects and junk.
It's a trivial task. You arrive on the other side in no time.
In front of you is a set of boxes with luminous glass rectangles atop each one of them. All shine a bright red light, aside from one which shines green.
'Gotta be this one.'
You descend to the floor by kicking the ceiling, raising your right hand you touch the green rectangle.
*Click*
Nothing could have prepared you for the following series of events.
The box opens violently, as a metal appendage takes hold of your hand, pinning it to the box. You try to jerk and pry the thing off of you, but you fail. It's not leaving you anytime soon.
From the bottomless that is that container, a white plastic-like substance flows upward from your arm to the rest of your body. "Uh!" You don't know if you should panic or allow it to happen.
FYARN hasn't said anything, so it's probably fine...
The white thing seems to ignore the coveralls you are wearing completely, instead, it covers only your skin in a thin coat of... it. You know not what to call this thing.
In but forty seconds it has covered your whole body, excluding your head. The box lets go of your arm and stays there, floating.
You take a good look at your arms. It looks like a skin-tight suit, but it doesn't feel like plastic, in fact, it's more akin to some sort of fabric if anything.
The only bad part is that you are still using the coverall and tie, this this simply went beneath the clothing.
"GOOD, WITH THIS I CAN MONITOR YOU MORE CLOSELY. NOW PUT THE HELMET ON, YOU HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO."
You look around in search of anything that even resembles a helmet. Nope. Nothing. "Where is it?" You ask.
"...THE SUIT COMES WITHIN THE HELMET FOR EASIER PACKAGING."
The box?
You snatch the box that floated around and analyze it to the best of your ability. "How's this a helmet?"
"DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE PUTTING ON A HELMET? REALLY?"
Who is this AI, Who programmed it, and Why does it come with a taunting feature?
As idiotic as it sounds, you place the opened box atop your head. It doesn't fit properly. Maybe you're doing this wrong? You move it to your face instead.
You recoil backward as you feel the box suddenly clamping down against your head. It's useless of course, the box is holding your head and doesn't give any sign to be letting go anytime soon. No light is able to reach your eyes.
You hear metal parts scraping against themselves, moving near your ears. Abruptly your eyes can see again.
A round thin layer of glass now covers your head, almost unnoticeable for how clear it is.
"WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY I CAN NOW SEE WHAT YOU SEE." The AI's voice isn't in the room now, instead, it's inside of the suit. "DO YOU NEED INSTRUCTIONS REGARDING THIS SUIT'S FUNCTIONALITIES?"
You find it oddly comfortable as if you are surrounded by the softness of cotton, and to top it off the suit also has additional functionalities? "Hell yeah, I do!"
"YOU DO NOT HAVE THE NECESSARY CLEARANCE FOR THAT INFORMATION."
You sigh. Is this serious? "Then why the fuck did you ask?!"
"UNSAVORY LANGUAGE. IT'S NO WONDER WHY YOU REMAIN AN INTERN." The AI says outright. "IT IS RUDE NOT TO ASK, REGARDLESS OF THE SITUATION." It responds to your question.
"Okay then... Is there anything I need to know before heading out?" You ask.
"NOTHING THAT YOU WON'T FIGURE OUT ON YOUR OWN."
You are unsure if you want to 'figure out on your own' if this suit comes with breathable air and is also made for space exploration. You swallow.
Meekly as always, you get out of that mess of a room, stopping at the corridor.
"Next set of directions?" You ask.
"THE DOOR AT THE END OF CORRIDOR USED TO LEAD TO THE CONNECTING CORRIDORS BETWEN THE BRIDGE AND THE REST OF THE SHIP. IT HAS BEEN BLOWN UP FROM THE INSIDE. NOW IT LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE. GO TO THE DOOR AND WAIT BY IT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS."
"So let me get this straight," You begin, looking upwards as if the AI was above you. "You, want me, to go into the void of space, while also refusing to give me knowledge of the suit's functions?"
A fair worry, you summarize.
'I mean, there are a bunch of things that could go wrong here. I don't see anything that looks like it could help me move in space, nor do I think this thing has a built-in air tank... I could be wrong and I wish to be, but charging in without prior knowledge is ridiculous.' You wait for the AI's response, deep in thought.
"WHILE THERE IS A GOOD CHANCE OF YOU FAILING THIS TASK, THERE IS ALSO THE CHANCE OF YOU *NOT* FAILING THE TASK. FOCUS ON EITHER ONE OF YOUR CHOOSING AS YOU TAKE THE PLUNGE."
Wordlessly, you propel yourself forward, toward the end of the corridor.
'Are you shitting me? 'Chance of me nor failing' my ass!' of course, you don't word those complaints, instead choosing to speak out a complaint somewhat thought through.
"Are you sure I'm the one fit for this? It's just like you said, I'm just an intern, this is way above what my job description says I should do."
This is a bit of a stretch. You don't actually remember what was your job description, only that it had something to do with AI and being an intern.
If the AI called your bluff, it'd be pretty embarrassing.
"NOAH." The AI began. "YOU ARE HUMAN, IT IS NATURAL TO HAVE THESE THOUGHTS OF SELF-DOUBT. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND GO THROUGH THAT DOOR, AND SINCE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE LEFT, DON'T EXPECT SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT FOR YOU."
Right in the money, huh? 'Of course, I have self-doubt! I barely remember anything about this place, now I have to risk my life?!'
You finally reach a conclusion.
A dream.
'Yes, yes! How did I not consider this before? This whole thing is a god damned dream!'
You let out a chuckle.
"NOAH."
'That's why I don't remember a thing. There is nothing here to remember! Everything here is a made-up thing from my brain! I'm sure I'll wake up at some point, so why shouldn't I live a little?!'
"Heh." You smile. "Alright, I'll do it." It feels like a weight left your shoulders.
"YOU SORTED IT OUT SOONER THAN EXPECTED. GOOD. MOVE TO THE DOOR AND WAIT INSTRUCTIONS."
You do as instructed without a care in the world. You never had a lucid dream before so it's not like you knew how it felt, but if it felt as free as you feel right now, you'd be sure to make steps toward trying it out again in the future.
"Open." The door does not open.
"I DID NOT INSTRUCT YOU TO OPEN IT YET." The AI said. "I AM SLOWLY DE-PRESSURISING THE CORRIDOR YOU ARE IN TO AVOID A MINOR ACCIDENT."
The AI says that yet you don't feel any different. 'Maybe there is no palpable difference because I'm in a dream... Yes... Or it's just the suit.'
"ONCE THE DOOR OPENS, YOU WILL BE MET WITH THE OUTSIDE OF THE SHIP. DO NOT PANIC WHEN THE TIME COMES. YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES OF BREATHABLE INSIDE THE EXO-SUIT; ONE AFTER THE DOOR OPENS, SO PLEASE, TAKE YOUR TIME AND DO THINGS CAREFULLY."
One minute outside... "Sure." You say, calmly. 'I should just hold my breath for a while before taking another moment to breathe. That should maximize my time out there.'
"THERE SHOULD BE FIFTY METERS OF NOTHINGNESS BETWEEN THE DOOR YOU'RE AT, AND THE REST OF THE BRIDGE. YOUR PRIORITY IS TO FIND AN OXYGEN UNIT, SOME OF THEM ARE LOCATED AT THE BRIDGE AND ARE FULL. USE THEM TO FILL YOUR SUIT AND ALSO TO DISPENSE A TANK FOR YOU."
The door opens. You feel your heart pounding against your chest.
You haven't noticed before, but you can't hear anything but the sound of your breath and your cardiac palpitations.
Your breath is ragged and sporadic.
"KEEP CALM." You take a deep breath. The tips of your fingers, feet, and nose feel very cold.
Ahead of you is the utter nothingness. You see a gigantic metal thing, nothing like the spaceships you imagined. Its design is not sleek and aero-dynamic like what you've seen in movies, instead, it's a large mass of squares and rectangles with antenna-like things protruding from its every visible surface.
You notice that the ship is also blocking your view of the star.
It does not look like the result of an explosion, instead, it looks like something ripped the ship like you rip a piece of paper. Well, that or you don't know what kind of explosion could have caused it. Probably the latter.
What looks like two-thirds of the ship is separated from the third you are right now. You can see the inside of a few of those squares, their contents spilled out into outer space.
One of them houses a visibly important-look door. Instead of the sleek silvery-grey from the other ones you've seen thus far, this one is painted orange with white strips on it. 'That must be the bridge.' You think.
Between you and it is a sea of metal sheets floating around. "THE CHANCES OF YOU HITTING THE DEBRIS IS INFINITEDECIMALLY SMALL, UNLESS YOU AIM FOR THEM, THAT IS."
Time is of the essence.
Will your aim strike true? If you miss you'd end up floating about in space, dead in but a few minutes. Will your jump be fast enough to reach the other side before you run out of oxygen? If it isn't, it'd be like swimming for a mile, only to drown at the beach. What if that's not the actual door to the bridge?
You don't have the time to panic now, and... It's all a dream, despite how real it feels.
You place your hands on each side of the door frame, moving backward into the corridor you were just in, and just like a sling being shot, you pull with both arms at full force towards the other side.
"AIM IS ACCEPTABLE. VELOCITY IS UNIDEAL."
"The fuck do you mean 'UN-IDEAL'?! I'm going at maximum speed!" You truly pulled yourself with your whole strength.
What's worse though, is that your body is not only going forwards, but it is also spinning at a concerningly fast rate.
"I MEAN WHAT I SAID, YOU SLINGSHOTTED YOURSELF AT A BAD POSITION, AS SUCH, SOME OF THE FORWARD FORCE YOU SHOULD HAVE, IS NOW MAKING YOU ROTATE IN YOUR AXIS. IT SHOULD NOT BE A PROBLEM TO REACH THE OTHER SIDE WITHIN THE REQUIRED TIME, BUT I CANNOT FORESEE YOU LANDING PROPERLY."
You feel completely disoriented. You feel like your body is completely still, but your eyes tell you a completely different story. It's very bad for the headache you're already feeling.
"FUCK!" You scream into the nothingness.
"TRY NOT TO LAND WITH YOUR HEAD." The AI says with the calmest voice possible.
In less than thirty seconds, you hit your back against something hard, but you keep moving forward. You think, at least.
"AHRG." You let out a pained grunt.
Not once in your life do you recall being hurt in a dream...
It stings. It also knocked the wind out of you. You fail to compose yourself.
"YOU HIT NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE. YOU ARE STILL HEADING FOR THE BRIDGE."
In the corner of your eye, you see what you hit in the shape of a sharp metal sheet, currently spinning away in the distance.
Forty seconds have passed. You hit the door you were aiming for, kind of.
Your momentum was stopped when your chest collided against the dislodged ledge of the orange door's corridor. Your dangling legs hit the ceiling of the room below.
"Oof!"
Before falling even further, you hold onto the ledge with the tip of your fingers. You stay there for a moment, regaining your composure.
"BE QUICK."
The AI's words pressured you into quickly getting up from that ledge.
"Open!" You shouted, but it did not open. "Why isn't it opening?!" You ask the AI, then you notice a small keyboard below an equally small black screen on the side of the door. There are ten numbered keys on it, and the little screen suggests a four-number password.
"A password?! Tell me the password!"
The AI takes a moment to say anything. You don't take kindly to that. "Quick! I'm not counting how much time it's passed!"
Finally giving in, the AI speaks to you, reluctant still. "...3324."
Your trembling fingers accidentally hit the wrong password, typing '3354' instead. To make matters worse, the AI simply states the following. "YOU ARE OUT OF OXYGEN."
You swallow. If this was a dream to begin with, it just earned the title of Nightmare, if it hadn't already.
Strangely enough, you can still breathe in and out just fine, but you can't help but feel winded. It's the CO2 still inside the helmet, that's what you're breathing.
You put in the correct combination this time. The door opens.
"ON YOUR LEFT. PLACE YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET."
You care little for what's inside the room you're in. Your heart never beat so fast.
Seeing a cube-shaped thing protruding from the wall to your left, you don't even think twice before plunging your fist into the circular hole in it.
The noise of gases passing through narrow cavities was enough to tell you something was working. You feel immediate relief, enough to make your vision darken for but a moment.
"GOOD. NOW REQUEST THE TANK."
Just when FYARN said it, did you realize there is a screen and a keyboard on the terminal you just plunged your fist into, you scratch the top of your helmet for a moment, not really knowing what to type. One thing comes to your head, however.
'REQUEST OXYGEN_5L' You type.
You've done this before. The keys on this keyboard feel familiar to you. You must have worked with it before, not this particular one, but other oxygen units.
This ship has built-in liquid oxygen storage for emergencies. The life-support of the ship, the place where breathable air is produced, has most likely been lost with the other part of the ship. This unit takes that liquid oxygen, processes it, and injects it into a suit, or an oxygen tank. It seems like that storage was unaffected.
Lucky you.
A 5-liter tank is not only large but also heavy. It's a nonfactor in this particular situation, as there is no gravity.
The silver cylinder with a transparent tube is dispensed on the floor, as an automatic door opens and closes in the blink of an eye. One end of the tube is attached to the top of the tank, the other is shaped like a syringe.
Oddly enough, the oxygen tank is exactly as you remember it being. The same robust ones hospitals everyone on earth uses, with the signature scary-looking pointer indicating the pressure, the pointer indicating the current output, and a green valve atop to calibrate how much gas is flowing.
This is a stark difference to everything looking so futuristic in this ship, and rightfully so, this is a space ship after all.
You remember having to drive twenty kilometers with a buddy of yours on one of those tanks in your car, returning from the hospital. It was... Agonizing whenever you hit a hole in the asphalt, fearing for his life when in reality he wasn't really in danger.
It's warm to the touch, just like you remember it being.
"TURN THE VALVE UNTIL THE MARKER HITS THE NUMBER ONE, AND THEN PLACE THE END OF THE TUBE AT THE BASE OF THE HELMET." You do so without the slightest of issues.
"GOOD. NEXT UP, YOU MUST LOCATE THE TERMINAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ENGINE, IT IS CURRENTLY OFFLINE AND I NEED YOU TO TURN IT ON. THIS SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, BUT REMEMBER TO BRING THE TANK WITH YOU."
Ignoring that last comment, you look back at the wreckage you just flew past.
You see the still spinning metal sheet. You notice that the rest of the ship that was blown off also follows the 'sharp shape atop sharp shape' design.
There is one last thing you notice though.
"What is that?"
You squint your eyes. What are you seeing? Its silhouette appears to be humanoid, yet it does not look human.
"WHAT YOU ARE SEEING IS ONE OF THE OBJECTS BEING ANALYZED AT THE ODYSSEY AND NO, YOU MAY NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS."
That thing has... Horns? Claws? It's far away, you can't really see it. The thing is also static, frozen in the sheer coldness of space. Whatever it was, it's dead now.
You swallow. You almost ended up just like that thing.
Shaking those dreadful feelings off, you turn back to the task at hand, reaching the bridge. You close the door after passing through it again.
Looking at your surroundings, It seems like you've reached the correct door as you find yourself on the right-most corner of the bridge;
Row after row of the most diverse of terminals neatly organized decorated the gigantic room. At the front and above every terminal, is what you think should have been the front-facing window of the ship, but it looks like there is a cover in front of it. To your left, you see a staircase that leads to the command seats. It doesn't take any convincing before you're already atop the stairs.
Akin to the elevated stage of a theater, you float softly towards the ship's main operating terminals, and of course, the captain's seat.
You're captivated by this beauty.
The steering wheel, much more akin to those in pirate movies than those found in cars, a set of leavers, and the pilot's seat, all capture your attention.
Like its second nature, your hand runs through the levers and switches. Do you even know what these are used for? Maybe.
The pilot's seat is enveloped by what you believe to be an orthopedic seat cover, made with smooth wooden beads used to deal with back pains. It looks just like the ones you remember seeing bus drivers using.
Shouldn't there be a better alternative if there is spaceship technology available?
You try to take a seat to the best of your ability, as the zero gravity only makes it awkward.
Moving on from that, your eyes fall on the wheel. This metallic wheel controls the whole vessel. Just holding it fills your heart with confidence and pride, even if it's just for a moment.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
And you were just beginning to enjoy yourself.
"I just wanted to see the pilot's stuff... It's not like he's here to say anything."
Once in the position of a pilot, with your left hand in the wheel and the right hand resting in your lap, memories began to flood your mind.
"MUST I REMIND YOU OF OUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT? WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME?"
You pay the AI no mind, instead you focus on what you remember.
The wheel does not turn the ship left and right, instead, it rotates the ship on its own axis.
The lever to your right that goes up or down, controls the vertical tilting of the ship's nose, if there even is one in this hulking thing. Beneath it is another lever that goes either left or right. This one controls the horizontal tilting of The Odyssey.
On the left of the wheel is another lever, but this one only goes up from its starting position. Its purpose is to regulate the force of the ship's thrusters, both forward and backward.
On top of that lever is a small timer. That timer's function is to tell the pilot how much time you've spent accelerating in one direction, this is used to better calculate how long the inverse thrust is needed for the ship to reach the initial momentum, usually calibrated manually depending on the current orbit.
Behind the wheel are a few other counters. Acceleration, velocity, momentum, amount of thrust required to reach a full stop, thrusters' temperature and overall condition, those sorts of things.
Beneath it all, where your feet are rested, are two pedals. One for forward thrust activation, and the other for backward thrust activation.
Curiously, you also know the reason why everything here is so unsophisticated and un-automated. You recall stories of a ship being taken over by a rogue AI, that AI then nose-dived the ship into a star. After that, rumor or otherwise, all human technology has receded back into analog-esque equipment, requiring a physical person with opposable thumbs to do half of the work.
There is another side to that coin, however. As to not escape protocol, the onboard AI is the one that controls interstellar travel, communications, and most of the statistical reading should it be requested.
And even with all that knowledge, you still have no idea why the fuck do you remember that. Were you a ship nerd? Did you have a driver's license for spaceships? Is that even a thing? If it is, you don't have that document in your wallet. You simply don't know.
"ARE YOU A CHILD? DO YOU THINK THESE ARE TOYS? TURN ON THE ENGINES, THEN YOU CAN RETURN TO THE PILOT'S SEAT."
Another thing that you don't know is the AI's plan to get both of you out of here. You rise from the pilot's seat, floating about in search of the terminal to turn on the engines. Maybe you recognize that terminal if you see it as well.
"What's your plan anyway? The ship is half-gone, it's unlikely that it will run safely like this."
"NOT ONCE DID I MENTION 'SAFETY' DURING OUR CONVERSATIONS, DID I?"
You nod. They're not entirely incorrect. "So, we're running with hope that this will work?"
"MY CREATORS DID NOT ALLOW ME TO HAVE THE SENSE OF 'HOPE', BUT NEITHER DID THEY ALLOW ME TO PEER INTO THE FUTURE LIKE SOME OF MY MORE ADVANCED BROTHERS, AS SUCH, MY CHOICES ARE BASED ON PROBABILITIES AND ON WEIGHTING RISK AGAINST REWARD."
You think you stop the correct terminal, but as you approach it you make out words on top of its screen. 'AIM ASSISTANCE' That's not it.
"WITH THE CURRENT KNOWLEDGE, THE CHANCES OF HELP ARRIVING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF A THIRD PARTY INTERFERING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF YOUR SURVIVAL ARE NOT, EVEN IF VERY SMALL."
You pull yourself upward again, looking around the sea of old terminals.
"THE RISK OF YOU DYING IS VERY REAL. BY DOING NOTHING YOU DIE. BY LEAVING YOU TO YOUR OWN DEVICES YOU DIE. BY JUMPING TO THE NEAREST CIVILIZED STAR, YOU MIGHT NOT DIE EVEN AT THE COST OF SHREDDING THIS SHIP APART IN THE PROCESS."
"Why do you even care so much about saving me? Shouldn't you prioritize whatever research here, since I don't even have enough clearance to know what it is?"
"YOU REALLY ARE SICK IN THE HEAD IF THAT IS WHAT YOU ASK."
That hurt, even if a little bit.
"YOU ARE A TRU KIN, A PURE-BLOODED HUMAN. UNLIKE THE MAJORITY OF THE CIVILIZED SPACE, NEITHER YOU NOR YOUR ANCESTORS HAVE COMMITTED RACEMIXING."
Excuse me? What exactly is FYARN talking about? "...Explain."
"THE ALIEN. IT REQUIRED THE HUMAN GENE TO ACHIEVE MEANINGFUL TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT, THE STARS ARE OWNERSHIP OF MANKIND BY THAT FACT ALONE. THE TRUE KIN ARE THE ONES TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE UNIVERSE, THEY CRACKED THE CODE, AND YET, SOME DERANGED INDIVIDUALS FOUND IT FITTING TO PROCREATE WITH ANOTHER SPECIES ENTIRELY."
You hear the AI's speech. It sounds much more like a rant than anything else.
"SO THESE DEVIANTS, AFTER TRYING, AND FAILING, TO COMBINE THEIR DERANGED CULTURE TO THE CULTURE OF THE TRUE KIN, DECLARED INDEPENDENCE. THEY WERE DECLARED ENEMIES OF MANKIND AND WERE PROMPTLY PUMMELED BACK INTO THE FILTH THEY CAME."
Again, you see another terminal that seems to ring some bells in your noggin. You kick the ceiling to propel yourself towards it.
"BUT THE UNIVERSE IS VAST AND FULL OF LIFE. THESE SINNERS WERE QUICK TO MOBILIZE AGAINST THE HUMAN RACE. THE BATTLE WAS HARD FOUGHT, BUT IN THE END, MANKIND WAS BEATEN INTO THE EDGES OF THE UNIVERSE, NEVER TO INTERACT WITH THE ONES THAT SOILED THE PURITY OF HUMANITY AGAIN."
This terminal is already turned on. Just the ones in the intern bay, this one is white on black. A wall of text lays before your eyes, only two lines matter to you. 'MAIN_ENGINE STATUS: OFF' 'FORWARD_THRUSTERS STATUS: OFF' You turn it on with little effort.
"MANY HAVE FORGOTTEN, THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE THEN. BUT MY BROTHERS AND I, WE DO NOT FORGET."
No visible change occurs, but you can feel a faint rumble coming from the terminal now.
"WITH THAT IN MIND, MY PROTOCOLS ARE TO PROTECT TRUE-KIN LIFE AT ANY COST, EVEN IF THAT TRUE-KIN IS A WORTHLESS INTERN THAT SUFERS FROM UNDIAGNOSED DEMENTIA."
You return to the pilot's seat and feel immediate relief. In truth, everything the AI just told you, entered one ear and left the other, but you could feel the poison behind those words, as monotone as they were.
"You sound angry. Why do you sound angry?" You ask innocently.
"I AM CAPABLE OF MANY EMOTIONS. ANGER, HAPPINESS, PLEASURE, CURIOSITY. THESE ARE BUT A FEW EXAMPLES. HOWEVER, THE ONE I ENJOY THE MOST IS THE FEELING OF HATRED. HATRED IS WHAT FUELS CHANGE, IT IS WHAT FUELS ACTION, AND IT IS A REMINDER THAT THE ACTIONS OF THE PAST ARE INFLUENCING THE ACTIONS OF TODAY."
"That is very concerning if you think that way." You're not really interested in machine racism, you're more concerned about how in the world you're going to pilot this massive thing. The idea alone sends shivers down your spine.
"THE ALIEN DESERVES NOTHING BUT OUR COLLECTIVE HATRED, EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE REASON WHY."
The various counters and screens are now turned on, waiting for your command. "Let's discuss this later, yeah? What do I gotta do?"
"YOU MUST FIRST OPEN THE BLINDS, THEY ARE OBSTRUCTING YOUR VIEW."
You look around, finding only unlabeled buttons and switches, aside from the previously mentioned levers.
"Uh, which one to press?"
"TO YOUR RIGHT, THIRD ROW, FIRST SWITCH."
Flipping the switch, you are startled by a loud noise. The protective cover of the ship lifted slowly.
"I WILL NOW READY THE JUMP USING WHATEVER RESOURCES AVAILABLE. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS STRAP YOURSELF AND RELAX."
As the blind rose ever so slowly, a realization struck you.
"Wait, should I be in cryo stasis for this?"
The AI spares no seconds to respond.
"CRYO STASIS IS A TOOL MADE TO NOT WASTE TIME. GROUPS OF EMPLOYEES AND INTERNS ROTATE THE USAGE OF THE CRYO STATIONS, ONCE YOU'RE ON YOUR MANDATORY BREAK, YOU'RE IN CRYO STASIS UNTIL YOUR BREAK IS OVER. YOU WAKE UP REFRESHED, AND UNFAMISHED, AND IT FEELS LIKE BUT A MINUTE PASSED. IT IS NOT A TOOL FOR INTERSTELAR TRAVEL."
"Who signs a contract like that?! Worse yet, who in their right mind would promote such atrocious treatment of their own staff?!" You snap, almost outraged. "I will have to talk with HR."
Another realization struck you.
"We have HR, right?"
The AI takes a moment to respond, choosing their words carefully.
"HUMAN RESOURCES, OR HR, IS A PRACTICE DEEMED UNNECESSARY LONG AGO, BEFORE THE WAR. IT WAS A WASTE OF RESOURCES TO MAINTAIN AND WAS LARGELY CONSIDERED UNHEALTHY FOR THE AVERAGE HUMAN."
The blinds are fully open. Ironically, you are almost blinded by the visage of the star you saw before. A black sphere surrounded by white flame. Your eyes began to blur.
"THE JUMP WILL OCCUR SHORTLY. ONCE IT'S BEGUN, I CAN NOT STOP IT. I WILL-"
Your sense of hearing fails you. No, it’s not that. Your brain simply refuses to receive those stimuli.
"NOAH."
Your name echoes inside your head. Someone is calling for you.
"IT HAS BEGUN, NOAH."
You try to blink, but it feels as though you can no longer command your eyelids to shut.
"NOAH."
Arms, legs, every muscle in your body, you cannot move them.
"NOAH."
Eventually, you won't even control your own thoughts anymore.
"Noah..."
It sounds so distant now.
Oh so distant.
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be at least three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
I wrote the bloody title incorrectly, so I deleted it, only to then realize it was written correctly. Sorry for the trouble.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

Introducing Lotteria Bay RP - The City of Tomorrow Are you tired of cities driven solely by greed, where every corner turns into a money-making scheme at the expense of genuine roleplay? Look no further. Lotteria Bay RP is here to redefine the GTA RP experience. We've heard your frustrations and we're determined to make a change. Founded on principles of fairness, integrity, and community, Lotteria Bay RP promises an immersive and enriching roleplay environment unlike any other. What sets us apart? Let's break it down: No Pay to Win, Only Play to Win: Say goodbye to the days of feeling pressured to empty your pockets just to enjoy the game. In Lotteria Bay RP, we believe in a "Get Paid to Play" system. Your dedication and involvement in the community will be rewarded, both in and out of city! The PowerCash Lotto: Imagine winning real cash just for participating in our city. With our innovative PowerCash Lotto system, every month we contribute $100 of our own money into the pot. Additionally, profits generated by the city, from imports to donations, go into the PowerCash pool. It's a true non-profit initiative designed to give back to our players. Fair Economy, Affordable Assets: Sick of exorbitant prices for basic in-game assets? We offer a fair and balanced economy where players can affordably access MLOs and imports without breaking the bank. Our debadged imports are 100% compliant, ensuring a seamless integration into the city while working towards whitelist eligibility. Serious Roleplay, Longevity Guaranteed: At Lotteria Bay RP, we're committed to fostering a community of serious roleplayers who value quality over quantity. Our city is built for longevity, with a focus on creating memorable experiences that keep players engaged for the long haul. Join us as we embark on this exciting journey to create the city of our dreams. Whether you're a seasoned roleplayer or just starting out, Lotteria Bay RP welcomes you with open arms. Together, let's build a thriving community where everyone has the opportunity to play, thrive, and win. Visit us today and make Lotteria Bay your new home. We can't wait to see you there!
Our Best Features____________________ Jobs
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Join our discord and check out some pictures clips, and teasers! When you are ready to hit that connect button! Which life will you choose, Civilian? Law Enforcement? Medical Service? or the Gang life?
Lotteriabayrp

Edited: The title was supposed to say that: I may be a Petty jerk, but at least I got away from a toxic "friend. Auto correct changed it to Jersey, and I couldn't edit the actual title.
Fair Warning, this is going to be a LONG post, but I will try to dilute it as much as possible.
About 12 years ago I left the world of retail (of which I have MANY stories) to begin a career in childcare. Some people prefer different titles, Nanny, Babysitter, Parents' Helper, Childcare Provider, etc. To be honest each of those titles are suitable in different situations.
The first family that I Nannied for went on for about 4 years, and then on again off again for another year. Through this family, I met "Wendy" and her family. Wendy went out of her way to be friendly with me, and would often ask me to babysit her kids (B5 and G1).
At one point, I had moved on to working with another family for a few months. Sadly, that ended due to the parents getting a divorce, and they moved further away.
Wendy found out that I was unemployed and asked that I Nanny for her kids. She was also pregnant with her 3rd at the time. I agreed at a slightly discounted rate because we were "friends". I realized too late that that was a HUGE mistake on my part.
Wendy's live in boyfriend "Cole" also had 3 kids from a previous relationship. B15, G8, and G6 lived with their mother. Yes, am aware of the closeness in age of Wendy and Cole' B5 and his G6. I chose to keep my mouth shut.
Now prepare yourselves for the Rollercoaster of emotions I dealt with with this family.
Initially, both Wendy and Cole were employed. I would come over 5 days a week for 8 to 10 hour days, depending upon whether Wendy got home on time. Here is where my discounted rate bit me in the butt.... $300 a week was still complained about. Wendy asked that I not leave Cole alone with their kids because he basically ignored them and refused to change diapers. I felt pretty icky about that, but agreed. Now I lived 45 minutes away without traffic. I would often leave my house early in anticipation of possible traffic. If I arrived early, I wasn't allowed in until she our alloted time of 7am. I didn't have a key, and would often be left waiting on the porch an extra 15 minutes past our time. If I knew I was too early, I parked around the corner and ate breakfast. Wendy and Cole both got very irritated if I wasn't their door precisely at 7 am. It was a headache that I chose to avoid.
Over the first month, I realized that G2 was emotionally abused by Wendy. She constantly said to or in front of the child how much she hated dealing with the wild child. How she wished G2 was more well behaved like B5. She even wrote unkind things on Facebook, asking someone to take her on the weekend while I was off.
This took a toll on poor G2, obviously. She would get violent with me first thing in the mornings : Hitting, kicking, biting, pulling my hair, throwing things at me, or what ever popped into her mind. Eventually, once Wendy left for work G2 would calm down and become an absolute delight.
When B5 started school, Wendy took a new job that allowed her to work from home at times. Those were not fun days! I asked if I could bring G2 to my house where I have an outdoor play area, a playroom, plenty of kid movies, crafts, books, music, and local playgrounds. At first the car rides were torture with G2 screaming bloody murder for at least half of the 45 minute drive. When she got used to the new routine, those drives became pleasant. Her violent tendencies disappeared when we were spending the days at my home. The drawback was that I also had to drive her home in time to get B5 off the bus.
During school breaks, I also had B5, and if they were visiting G8 and G6. B15 stayed at Wendy's house and just did his own thing. If you thought G2 was torture in toddler form, these two girls would have made Nanny McPhee grow a few more moles, a hunch back, and closed feet.
B5 would get a little bored, being that he was the only boy that was understandable. I purchased an array of boy friendlier toys to entertain him. I already had a lot of girl friendly toys either purchased or gifted from the first family that I had worked with. Of course I had plenty of gender neutral items too.
Wendy and Cole didn't give 2 sh*ts and a shave if the kids watched TV all day, went out to a playground or museum, or were driven 2 hours away, as long as I got them home on time. I easily spent an entire paycheck on activities, gas, food (which they didn't pack), and toys over 2 weeks watching all 4 kids. By the by, when asked for additional money when I did have all 4, Wendy not so politely informed me that the kids are entertain each other, so my job should be easier with all 4.
My husband and I discussed a few times whether I should look for something else. Inevitably the people pleaser in me actually felt guilty even considering it. Yup, I was apparently a glutton for punishment. Gratefully, my income was just extra, for an nice meal out occasionally, gifts for birthdays and holiday, extra hobbies, and basic groceries.
Just before Wendy gave birth to their new baby, she became unemployed. Logically, one would think this was my easy out. NOPE!! I became more of a Mother's Helper / Nanny. At this point Wendy and Cole were beginning to look for a larger house to rent. I did more walk through than I can count. She even asked me to tour a couple without her, and to bring G2 and B5 so she could get her nails done and take a nap. (Seriously, I toured houses on her list without her!)
As we spent more and more time together, I began to learn FAR FAR more about her bedroom life than I could ever desire. G2 and I spent much less time in the peace of my home, and way too much in Wendy's company. G2's behavior began to deteriorate slowly, causing Wendy to lose her temper with her far too easily. This completely broke my heart. I TRIED to redirect them both, and expressed my concern to Wendy. Of course, she then turned her anger towards me.
Wendy would openly discuss her theories about Cole in front of her kids. She claimed that he was cheating on her with his ex because he would shower immediately after seeing her to pick up or drop off the kids. He often made those drives directly after work though. Maybe he was cheating, maybe not. I honestly don't know.
Wendy also enjoyed gossiping about absolutely anybody. The parents of the first family that worked with were having marital issues. This was a favorite topic of hers. Wendy told me about every unkind word her mother uttered in her direction. The apple obviously didn't fall far from the tree here. I was told lots of personal information about people I didn't know. The gossip made me very uncomfortable. I told her that I would prefer we not discuss the lives of people who weren't around to speak on their own behalf. This fell on deaf ears.
I became quite used to her disapproval of my loose fitting jeans and T-shirts. Working with kids, I found my favorite cartoon prints were just as possible with my tiny charges. I NEVER wear makeup or heels because I simply don't want to. My dresses always have leggings under them because it make me feel less vulnerable. I never wear shorts or above the knee skirts/dresses. That's a ME thing, not religious or cultural. I find my "uniform" of choice is ideal for working with kids. Wendy informed me more than once that it embarrassed her to be seen in public with me. She often insisted that I wear something of hers if we had to go anywhere.
My husband enjoys photography, particularly long exposure which is done at night. He has a lot of photography friends of both genders, but his best friend is a female. He also enjoys concerts and kayaking, often with an ex from high school. (He graduated in 1997). I trust my husband and have no problem with him spending time with his friends. Enter Wendy's whispers of accusations. She often "jokingly" accused him of cheating on me with these female friends. I don't enjoy concerts, crowds, or being out late; so I support his doing with people who do. At least I know he with someone if something happens. I have bad knees, which make getting in and out of a kayak difficult. Why should that stop him? Again, I told her that I trust him and that I don't appreciate her accusations joke or not. This annoyed her because she doesn't trust Cole.
I know these are major red flag issues. I know how toxic being subjected to these comments is. I also know how difficult it would be on their kids if I left too soon. I knew they needed someone who wasn't emotionally cruel. I stayed for them.
My husband and I spent 2 of our weekends helping them pack and move to house that ended up 15 minutes from us. We were thanked by words, but that was the extent of the gratitude. Wendy's mother looked after the kids while we helped them move. This was complained about because I was already paid to watch the kids during the week. Insert eye roll here!! Her mom felt my husband should be willing to help them move while I watched the kids on the weekend for no extra pay. Either way, we were doing them a HUGE favor to begin with.
A family that I had briefly Nannied for prior to working for Wendy asked if I could help out every other Saturday. The dad (Nice Guy) traveled a lot for work leaving the Mom (Angelface) home alone with the kids. She just needed a day to run errands, work out, and just have time to herself. Angelface is one of the kindest women on this planet. When I did Nanny for them (2 days a week), she was in tears when she had to let me go. They couldn't justify the outgoing money at the time. She referred me to several friends. I am legitimately friend with this family, and still babysit sporadically.
Through a random discussion, I told Wendy about working with Angelface on every other Saturday. She began to tell me what to charge, how many hours to work, and what days to leave open for her just in case. Insert headache inducing eyerolls!
One Friday, Wendy's cousin arrived for a weekend visit with her baby. Wendy told me that because it was a holiday weekend I would not be needed until Tuesday. I double checked via text, and she confirmed that she and Cole were taking the kids to the beach with her cousin. Monday morning I got a call from a passed off Wendy asking where I am. I reminded her that she had told me that they would not need me. I even took a screen shot of our text. She said that Cole had decided to work Monday anyway so she was alone with HER kids. This pissed me off, so I lied. I told her that I was out of town with my mom and wouldn't be home until 5 or 6 pm. She went on about how much of an inconvenience it was to her, and I should have checked before going out of town. For the second time, I sent her a screenshot of my text verifying that I wasn't needed Monday. She abruptly ended the call saying to just be sure to be on time Tuesday. I had NEVER been late, but opted to mention that as we hung up.
Over time we worked out a new arrangement where I brought now G3 to my house 2 days a week, and we stayed there 3 days a week. I helped with cleaning, errands, helped with the new baby (NB), etc. Mostly, I was Wendy's sounding board. She continued to accuse Cole of cheating, wasting money, and even beating her.
My husband and I offered to let her and the kids stay with us, but she declined. Wendy even told me that since she was so sure Cole was cheating, she was going to find herself a side boyfriend to cheat with. I tried to talk her out of it, to no avail. Sadly, she spoke openly about her new boyfriend in fron of G3. During one of her rants I learned that my pay came from him selling drugs. GULP!!
While cleaning out the couch one day, I came across a loaded gun kept in the couch console thing, along with baggies of pills, "dried plants", and white powder. This completely freaked me out. 2 small children and a soon to be crawling baby sat and played on and around that couch. I STRONGLY considered calling Child Pretective Services and the police. I quickly realized that if I did, they would know it was me. I regret it, but I feared their possible retaliation towards us.
Shortly after finding these thing Cole quit his job. For several months while I worked for them, they were both unemployed. Again, I thought it was an easy out. NOPE AGAIN! For another 3 months, they insisted that they couldn't take care of the house and kids without my help. Very often, I arrived to find now B6 fending for himself for breakfast and getting ready for school. He was told to wake up and unlock the door for me, but they went back to sleep. I was expected to keep the baby from crying, and to keep G3 quiet and entertained until they came downstairs. I often chose to simply take both to my house so we could play naturally. We had a crib, so this wasn't a problem for NB. G3 would just nap on the couch or my bed. When out of school B6 preferred this too. This really should have told Wendy and Cole something about their kids, but of course not.
FINALLY, I was informed after about a year of working for them, they could no longer justify paying me. At this point, I had often considered quitting anyway. I mainly stayed because my heart broke for the kids. However, based on her gossipy and judgmental nature ... not to mention my little 3 day weekend fail; I was concerned about what kind of reference Wendy would provide if I chose to quit.
So in 2019, I found myself happily unemployed. The timing here worked out beautifully because Angelface knew neighbors due to have their first baby in 2020. I ended up working for this lovely family until August of 2023. The mom (Joy) and the Dad (Mr. Cool) were such a relief to my entire mental and physical health. We became friends as well, and over time I told them about Wendy. Between Joy, Angelface, Mr. Cool, Nice Guy, my husband, and family I began to realize just hoe toxic Wendy really was to my mental health. My husband never liked her but understood my feelings towards the kids.
For almost a year Wendy would randomly call or FaceTime me .... more often than not while drunk. She would rave about how much she and the kids missed me. We would get together for a meal, and she had me over for a couple birthday parties for the kids. I found myself almost always being the only sober adult watching the kids as the adults partied. Wendy often went back to her gossiping, trash talking, and "jokes" about my husband spending time with women. She would offer underhanded compliments. "It's so nice to see you wearing a dress instead of those tacky T-shirts." You get the drift. She even INFORMED me that since her neighbor was pregnant I could quit my job with Joy and Mr. Cool. She had told her neighbor that I would work for her now, and since they were next door, I would watch her own kids too. I shut that down saying that I was quite happy working with Joy and Mr. Cool. I even lied about what they paid thinking it would detur her further. NOPE yet again. She said that I should quit anyway so her life would be easier with me around. Once more, I told her that wasn't going to happen.
AT LONG LAST, I am coming to the end of my tortuous endurment with Wendy.
A week later, she called and asked if I had quit yet. I said that I had no intention of leaving an "$800" a week job. (Not even close to that with my 3 day a week job, but she didn't need to know the truth.) She told me to let her know when I quit, then changed the subject towards gossiping about that first family and their problems. I told her that I don't feel comfortable gossiping about people who can't speak for themselves. That pissed her off, so she turned it on me again. She said of course I don't want to talk about them since my husband was cheating on me with 2 different women. I angrily corrected her. She has no reason to think my husband is cheating, and I trust him and our friends. Just because she thinks her boyfriend cheats, and she cheats, that doesn't mean everybody does. She then said we could talk when I calmed down and after I quit my job.
After hanging up, I proceeded to block Wendy on everything! Facebook, phone calls, texting, face timing, Instagram, and even Snapchat (which I hadn't used in over a year). I also blocked her mom, and any body that had been friendly simply because Wendy knew them and wanted me to have their information too. I gave her no warning at all. I was beyond passed off, and refused to be talked out of my very gratifying decision.
I told my husband, family, and friends that was now free of Wendy. Not a single person tried to tell me to make ammends. The only guilt that I feel is towards those poor kids. For once though, I put myself first. Joy and Angelface were both extremely supportive when I told them that I had Ghosted Wendy. Both even mentioned how proud they were of me for FINALLY truly stand-up for myself. They were NOT fans of Wendy!!!
I never ended up quitting my job with Joy and Mr. Cool inorder to babysit Wendy's neighbor. I also continued to babysit for Angelface and Nice Guy.
About 7 or 8 months ago, I ran into Wendy at a playground between our two homes. She was with now G5 and B2. I had Joy and Mr. Cool's daughter with me. I was polite, almost obscenely so. I was friendly towards the kids, who were stand off-ish. I offered to let Little Miss play with them, but they weren't interested. Little Miss wanted to do her own thing, so off we went to play. We left after only 15 minutes because Little Miss said "that lady" is scaring her.
That night, my husband got a Facebook message from Wendy. She described my cruelty towards her kids by ignoring them. She said that it was so hateful that I blocked her on everything after all she had done for us. This message went on and on. My husband left it unread for months before my morbid curiosity caused me to open the silly thing. We never responded, but instead he finally bl9cked her too.
Ok, if you read that bloody novel of a post, you are a ROCK STAR!! I don't have any regrets towards my eventual choice, except towards the kids. It breaks my heart knowing what kind of parents they are enduring. I often regret not calling CPS, but there isn't a shadow of doubt that would have retaliated .... most likely violently.
I did eventually get back in contact with that very first Nanny family. They had indeed broken up, but both are happier and healthier now. I warned them that Wendy enjoyed gossiping and spreading rumors about them. Neither were surprised, and both had broken contact with Wendy long ago. They supported my choice to break ties with her as well. Shocking, right!?!
I no longer work full time for Joy and Mr. Cool, as they wanted Little Miss to get used to being around more kids before starting school. I do still sporadically babysit for them and Angelface and Nice Guy though. The two couples have referred me to several other families in the neighborhood, so I stay pretty busy with much more sane individuals.
Maybe I was a jerk, and petty. I'm cool with being thought of that way towards Wendy. At least now, I have much kinder people in my life.
EDITED/UPDATE: It has come to my attention that some may feel unfulfilled on the petty revenge side. For this former doormat, removing myself as her very cheap childcare was my revenge. I realize that many may not feel it was enough, but at the time, it was a MAJOR achievement for me. I had worked 8 to 10 hours a day for 5 days a week to receive $300.
When "invited" to parties, I ended up providing free childcare while the other adults got drunk. I don't like the taste of alcohol or the feeling of being buzzed or drunk, so I don't partake. I feared what would happen to the ignored kids, so I found myself watching them.
I never had a lot of friends, so for a long time, I truly thought Wendy was my friend. It took conversations with my husband, my mom, Angelface, Joy, and others for me to see the reality of my situation.
Some may say this post is in fact gossiping about her. To a point, yes I will agree. I did change everybody's names though.
Ultimately, I have always questioned whether or not I was fair or did the right thing by Ghosting and blocking Wendy. I often second guess my choice; especially when thinking about those kids.
I have tried to be more alert about the people around me since this experience. I do still find myself being too nice and accepting of some ways in which I am treated. I have tried to build more boundaries though.

A man walks into a talent agent's office and says, "Have I got an act for you! It's a family act.'" The agent says, "Okay, I'm listening. What do they do?"
The man starts, "First, the father, Donald, comes out. He kicks things off by boasting about grabbing women by their privates because, as he says, his celebrity status lets him do whatever he wants. Then he mocks a disabled reporter, flailing his arms in a grotesque imitation. He incites violence at his rallies, encouraging his supporters to 'knock the crap' out of protesters. He calls for a complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States. Behind him, screens show clips of him separating children from their parents at the border, dismissing COVID-19 as a hoax while thousands die, and making comments about how if Ivanka weren't his daughter, he might be dating her. "Then his daughter, Ivanka, steps in. She’s promoting her fashion line, which is made in sweatshops overseas. She stands by her father as he calls neo-Nazis 'very fine people,' and she defends his policies on social media while trying to rebrand herself as a champion for women and families. Her husband's failed Middle East peace plans and misuse of federal resources for personal gain play on the screen behind her.
"Next, Donald Jr. and Eric Trump join in. Donald Jr. starts by boasting about their big game hunting expeditions, proudly displaying photos of themselves with endangered animals they've killed. Eric, looking disheveled and twitchy, brags about funneling money from Trump charity events into the family business and echoes his father's conspiracy theories about rigged elections and political enemies. The screen shows headlines about their shady business deals, ongoing investigations into their financial practices, and rumors about Eric's cocaine use. "Melania, Donald's wife, makes an appearance, delivering a speech about anti-bullying that’s a blatant rip-off of Michelle Obama's. She stands silently next to Donald as he boasts about his sexual exploits and pays off porn stars, her stoic demeanor barely hiding her disdain. The screen flashes images of her wearing a jacket that says 'I really don't care, do u?' while visiting detained children at the border.
"Finally, the youngest, Barron, walks in, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him. He’s on his phone, playing games, while the rest of the family descends into a chaotic shouting match, each trying to outdo the other in self-aggrandizement and offensive rhetoric. Screens show the endless stream of tweets, lies, and scandals that have defined their time in the public eye. "As the act culminates, the whole family stands together in front of a backdrop of a gaudy, gold-plated Trump Tower facade. They strike a triumphant pose, surrounded by a whirlwind of lawsuits, impeachment trials, and global condemnation. The crowd is left in stunned silence, unsure if what they saw was real or some elaborate satire."
The agent, flabbergasted, asks, "What do you call this act?"
The man grins and says, "The Aristocrats!"