I (m 23) have been spending some time with my grandfather recently. The dude is more chill than I remember and I figured I would spend some of the summer with him.
I showed him YouTube recently and he has been fascinated with the ability to just pick and chose to watch short clips at will.
This morning at we were having breakfast he has if he can use my laptop for some YouTube. I told him it's all good and just handed him my laptop.
He opened it and the first words out of his mouth were "oh fuck". I have actually never heard him swear before and then he turns to me and says "is this your new girlfriend?"
He hands me the laptop and it's the gif of this girl I was looking at late last night. I was pretty embarrassed but he seemed chill about it haha.
Not sure if it's really a fuck up but just got me thinking. Wonder what went through his mind when he first saw it.
For context
TL;DR - Grandpa asked to use my laptop but I forgot to close out of a gif I was looking at

Keeping it short and simple I met this cute girl in college, after 2 years of studying and hanging out together, i asked her if she liked me, not only she said that she didn’t, on top of that said she had a boyfriend and didn’t expect this from me, (since when did politely confessing love to someone became offensive), I didn’t knew she had a boyfriend and after this encounter didn’t spoke to her for a straight month. When i did join our friend circle (you can’t survive studying alone, you will need a group for projects), this girl had told her best friend that i was trying out on her even though she had a boyfriend and is disappointed on me, no matter how many times i tell her i did not know of her boyfriend (i don’t give 2 fucks about your stupid boyfriend whoever he is) she just goes around saying that i tried to hit on her knowing well she had a boyfriend. Now i only stay in her group for group projects and because rest of the class is kinda rude to an introvert guy like me. So our group is my only option and her face just keeps reminding me of how much i used to love her and depression both at the same time. Although we are good friends she now thinks after rejecting me, it is a good idea to stop me from being friends with some other guys in college who drink and smoke (stoners are the chill guys in college never forced me to do anything rash, just wanted help in assignments and you can have great chat with them any point of time, not like fake friends who copy your assignments and then block you or insult you in class) if any other person would have said i was making friends who are bad influence, I would not have found it as irksome as she telling me this after rejecting me and spreading fake rumours about my ill intent (what are you except being my friend? A girlfriend i never had?)so you guys do the justice and give tips for me in this situation, remember, our marks depend on this friend zoned relationship. I have to stay a friend for projects. Also if i ever had a girlfriend, i would not want her to be nagging and put her nose in my matters type. One advice is that i only meet her for work related matters otherwise i avoid her. Ask in comments for more of the backstory, whether i still like her or not.

Time of Reading: 3 Minutes
My gf & I have been together for almost 13 months now.
She's my cousin which means her father is the brother to my mother (it's not inappropriate or taboo in my country to be in a relationship with your cousin FYI) & she's very caring - considerate - kind - overall great & we go on date nights regularly. Even had intercourse a couple times. Never fought or cursed / yelled at each other & only had 3 - 4 calm arguments where we talked about an issue over the phone. The issue being:
She believes she's not important to me even though honest to god - I love her greatly. She studies in a university - works a 9 - 5 & goes to gym every other day. We text during the day & I try to reply asap to hers. I make sure to call her when she's off from work when I was busy during the day & couldn't text her - & we talk at length about different topics. We go on date nights once every two weeks for two reasons both of which are because of me. 1st being it's a 90 minutes drive from my place to hers & I have to use my father's car. 2nd being I'm currently unemployed (finished my mandatory military service 3 months ago & I'm burning through my savings) & even though sometimes she pays our checks with no complains - I'd like to be the one paying & for her to save her money.
A couple of nights ago I called her to ask about her day & her answers were cold (either one word or short sentences). When I asked what's wrong, she brought up the argument that she believes she's not important to me & that she's disappointed that I ditch her to do other things, then continued to talk about instances of me "ditching" her the past couple of weeks when tbh I actually was busy with something, wasn't my intention to make her feel bad.
I tried explaining & that I'll try to make it up to her but she kept saying that I don't "understand" what she meant & started talking from the beginning. This happened 2 - 3 times & she kept mentioning that I didn't "understand" her words which made me slightly angry, to which I said: maybe "we" should spend a couple days away from each other to think about what the other person means since I don't "understand" what you're saying & talk to each other again in 2 or 3 days - to which she replied sarcastically: "take your time. you like spending time away from me anyway".
Afraid that our argument might turn into a fight, I said goodbye, waited to hear hers & then hung up. We haven't communicated in anyway for 3 days.
I intend to fix my relationship because I love her very much. But here's my question:
How can I assure my girlfriend that she mean more than everything to me? How do I show her my affection & feelings other than hugging - kissing or saying things like "I love you" to her? How do I make this "insecurity" of hers go away?
TLDR: My GF Thinks She's Not Important to Me (even though she is & I love her very much) & It's Causing Serious Problems to Our Relationship. How Do I Assure Her That She IS In Fact Important to Me?

first
Luna VI query: Set the source to the leaked files of the first reconnaissance operation of Irisa.
Certainly!
Luna VI query: What did Ryo do during the first hour of the war?
***
Ryo had already reached a state of full awareness after waking up, and yet he hadn't moved an inch, immersed in his inner world as he thought about what he and Elysira had done at night.
And what a wild night it was.
The way that she had skipped the journey to go straight for the finishing line had caught him unprepared. Still, with the mystery of their physical compatibility out of the way from the get-go, Ryo had been left with a lot of time to explore the other hiccups and perks of this interspecies endeavor.
From the occasional accident with her claws to the new possibilities her tail brought to the table, Ryo had enjoyed everything.
There was not an ounce of regret in him, but the memory of their last act lingered incessantly in his thoughts—a vivid Recollection of Elysira’s tail wrapping around his leg and letting silence prevail as his arm shyly enveloped her, allowing them to fall asleep side by side.
The one memory that held him in place, fearing their next interaction when the slightest of his movements would inevitably wake her up, mirroring what had happened all in the previous mornings.
What would she say?
Would she think that they are in a relationship now?
What would he do if the concept of casual hook ups didn't exist for the Irisians?
Ryo touched his face and shook his head, instantly deciding it was time to start his morning routine to distract him from those absurd thoughts.
The brain IO interface captured his intention, turning on the lights on the ceiling with maximum brightness, something that he was sure would wake her up at once given how sensitive to change all Irisians were.
And yet he was wrong.
Elysira’s head tilted away from the light as eyelids fluttered, but the only other thing she did before stopping moving was strengthening her grip on his leg quite a bit, making him realize that her tail had not let go of him the whole night.
Upon noticing how numb his leg felt, Ryo propelled his body upwards, intending to uncoil her tail from his leg and start his day. Hopefully, Elysira wouldn't mention what they did, and he too would be able to pretend it never happened.
However, the moment his upper body lifted from the ground and he got a full view of her body, he was unable to remove her tail from his leg, captivated by a simple but powerful sight.
With her hands inside the pockets, Elysira had used his jeans to restrain her claws, putting herself in a very uncomfortable position, likely afraid of hurting him during her sleep.
His eyes widened, dispersing his previous train of thought from existence. The hand that was supposed to be dealing with her tail moved toward Elysira's exposed neck instead, aiming to wake her up with a gentle touch.
And as if he had just perturbed the stillness of a calm lake with a stone, a barely perceptible ripple of yellow spread on her skin from the contact with his fingertips. It traveled through her neck, reaching the soft lines of her face, and even traveled down her long hair strands.
At the same time that it felt wrong to be able to take a peek at her emotions so easily, Ryo couldn't help but wonder—which other colors had the darkness stolen from him? While immersed in this question, Ryo kept caressing her neck until her eyes opened slowly, resetting all the back spots of her body at once as consciousness took control over instinct.
Elysira’s grip on his leg loosened when she realized she was overdoing it. Her gaze started scanning every inch of him, starting from the accidental scratches of her own making and unashamedly stopping at places she had not seen before.
Unbothered by her curiosity, he even removed some of the loose strands in front of her eyes and threw them behind her long ears to make her job easier, feeling some apprehension only when she lost interest and sought eye contact.
Traces of purple appeared around her black spots as she spoke. "What do you humans do after... what we did?"
Ryo winced, but his tone was gentle. "Silly girl!" He felt deep regret for how he had skipped the part of Irisian relationships in favor of politics when she was teaching him about her species. "It could be everything or nothing."
He expected some intense reaction from Elysira, but there wasn't a lot of emotion showing. As he searched her skin, he also realized he was unable to look at her the same way as before.
From seeing her small breasts, which he now knew for a fact fit on his hands, to the very memory of all evenness that he now was able to associate with the sheen her skin exhibited from certain angles, Ryo realized he had lost the ability to gauge her emotions without feeling a hint desire.
She noticed how long he was staring at her and a hint of yellow appeared. "I don't need everything, but nothing is not enough!"
How did Ryo fail to see that this conversation would inevitably happen when they were having fun at night?
"Oh!" He was unable to keep his mouth shut, which resulted in red and purple manifesting on her skin as he felt the pressure for a quick reply.
He had heard the Irisians speaking terms such as chosen, mate, and family, but Ryo didn't know much about this, and now was not looking like a good time for asking for clarification.
The translator would do its job in conveying his intention. But what would he say? Friends with benefits maybe? He gave up that one on the spot; he didn't consider their previous relationship a friendship, and somehow, he felt a dangerous desire to want more than that from her.
Under the pressure of his previous mistake, he told her the highest relationship he was willing to have without a care in the world for consulting his superiors. "Is girlfriend good for you?"
Elysira’s eyes widened as her skin maintained the same tones. But it lasted only a second before a golden hue took over, leaving little room for her black spots. "Wait, are you serious? I never thought you would consider anything more than being my exclusive pair."
"I am serious, but what's the difference?" Ryo instantly felt he could have gotten away with being just friends with benefits.
"Two differences." She took her clawed hands from the pockets of his jeans and pressed them against his neck in a fast but controlled movement. "One is implied trust." Her head approached him slower as if she would kiss him, but instead, her lips diverted toward his ears where she whispered, "And the other is a promise for the future."
"That seems alright."
As he said that, Elysira had already started taking little bites on his earlobe, her other hand joining around his neck while her tail was sneakily pushing the rest of her body on top of him.
"This will have to be quick, we-"
Ryo was about to give up the time they had for breakfast, when a powerful explosion shook the ground, causing the whole tent to vibrate.
Elysira’s pointy ears began to twitch and her body receded, trying to get of clue of what happened as she displayed purple. "I hear nothing."
"This was not far from here; I don't think it was a landslide." Ryo summoned a window with all the cameras outside and found nothing unusual, even with the infrared inspection.
Elysira could see what he was doing since they had never left the shared augmented space.
"Can we see what Amara is doing? She might know more than us."
He still was incapable of referring to her as his girlfriend even in his thoughts, but he still felt a hint of pride for her quick thinking. "Let's see."
He quickly summoned a live feed and promptly instructed the AI to go through the recordings of the whole night. "Nathan and that princess are still inside the tent. Time to go there."
Ryo wasted no time explaining, quickly standing up to begin the search for his underwear. The floor was still littered with paper sheets, and there were even some opened water bottles around, but he still found what he was looking for before pulling his jeans from under Elysira’s butt and getting dressed with haste.
He wore his shoes but didn't bother with his shirt and jacket, just taking his already loaded gun from the holster and getting some spare ammunition before heading outside cautiously.
"I'm going with you." She got out of the tent almost at the same time as him, proving that not needing clothes had its advantages.
"Stay close." He activated the infrared view mode and scanned the surroundings just to be sure, then hasted his steps towards Nathan's tent which was about forty meters ahead.
There was little he expected would go wrong on such a short journey, but Elysira’s ears began to twitch halfway through, prompting him to stop advancing. "Hear someone?"
"Something." She then used her tail to point uphill, in the direction where the rest of the group had set camp on the previous day. "I think it's a drone."
"Fuck, I hope you are wrong." He raised his 3D-printed revolver and felt like cursing more at the fact he didn't even have a proper pistol, pulling back the harmer and getting himself in front of Elysira.
Thanks to her acute hearing, when he heard the buzzing of the drone, his gun was already pointing in the right direction. Upon getting the first glimpse of the flying object and noticing how fast it was moving, he didn't hesitate to do a partial activation of combat mode.
The world slowed down for a moment, allowing him to see the device flying among the very few beams of blue light that made their way through the canopies. He didn't wait a single second and corrected his aim slightly to the left before pulling the trigger.
Bang!
The drone was torn to pieces and many parts fell about twenty-five meters away from them, at a distance that any explosives wouldn't hurt himself or Elysira.
When his eyes found her behind him, there was yellow and purple on her skin as she asked, "What if it was friendly?"
"The owner can send the bill up the chain for all I care." Ryo lowered the gun and did a full scan all around once more, only to find nothing again.
Her tail wrapped around his arm as all purple on her body disappeared, leaving only a hint of yellow. "Amara won't be happy if it was hers."
Just as Elysira spoke, a circular door opened on Nathan's tent, and Amara took a step outside with red filling her body.
Ryo pictured a scene of a princess complaining about her lost drone, but things only got more complicated instead.
Nathan emerged after her, and the pair began to argue loudly about what to do now that a war had broken out; Amara wanted to march uphill to join her guards, but Nathan held her by the tail when she was about to leave and prevented her for moving, saying it would be too dangerous.
Their argument turned into a messy mixture of the present situation with Amara sulking about a wasted night, which led Ryo to exchange a look of surprise with Elysira.
But their surprise only lasted a moment and Ryo decided he couldn't let those fools keep wasting valuable time.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
He had their attention now. "Please don't tell me you're mad because the plant lover couldn't get it up."
Under normal circumstances, Ryo had no doubt his assholish behavior would only instill shame and improve their cooperation.
However, he forgot to account that he was not wearing a shirt, leaving all his scratches exposed while Elysira was disheveled by his side, which caused Nathan's jaws to drop followed by Amara throwing an indignant gaze at Elysira and then at Nathan, who gave Ryo the feeling he might snap at any time.
"Why are you here?" Nathan's calm voice didn't match his clenched fist and rigid posture.
"Information. I want her to tell me what she knows about this war." Ryo had learned about the war by overhearing their previous argument.
Surprisingly, Amara was cooperative. "My brother's army found our position. They were not aware I was here with Nathan and ambushed the rest of my people and Zara; you destroyed their drone but if they saw us they might have a good reason to come here."
"Fuck!" He turned to Elysira and ordered. "Go back and gather my things. Take the essentials first, we are leaving."
Elysira used her tail to squeeze his arm in acknowledgment and rushed back. But when she had barely taken a few steps, she stopped as her ears moved. "More drones are coming!"
After alerting him, she ran to accomplish her task, leaving Ryo in the company of just Nathan and Amara.
"Isn't that great?" He grumbled to himself, but his voice carried loudly, obtaining the pair's attention as he raised his revolver again.
Knowing that the enemy was probably aware of their position, Ryo used infrared view mode to ensure they weren't using the drones as a distraction to pull off an ambush.
And that didn't seem to be the case when the first machine appeared, flying downwards in zigzag from the concentration of trees uphill.
Again Ryo used a partial activation of combat mode and aimed at the drone, yet this time more of them appeared, leaving the cover of the woods in groups of three until there were nine of them in total. But they didn't even try to get close this time, choosing to hover next to the canopies more than two hundred meters away from him, and assuming something akin to a structured formation.
This was extremely weird and enough of a reason for him to retreat a little, getting closer to his tent and taking cover behind a tree.
Nathan and Amara moved too, the botanist getting inside and returning with his gun while Amara's colors blended with his tent becoming hard to spot.
Assessing the new situation in an instant, Ryo concluded it would be better not to engage and retreat considering that those drones would be hard to take down at such distance. But things changed again quickly when the AI triggered a pop-up window, showing that several of the cameras he had set up in strategic places were capturing movement.
And what he was seeing now were several armed groups of Irisians heading towards their position, confirming Amara's supposition that the rebels were coming for them.
With the situation getting grimmer with every passing moment, Ryo thought of a possibility for what the drones might be doing, but his mind was still refusing to believe that the rebels could be as organized as his worst-case scenarios were giving them credit for.
To test this, he immediately tried to contact the space station through radio transmission, and since being found by the enemy was no longer an issue, he set the transmitter to maximum potency to validate his test.
Unable to establish a two-way connection.
He frowned even though that was not totally unexpected.
With only a few minutes at best before this place was filled with enemies, they would have to leave fast or they would be at the mercy of the enemy.
But first, there was something he wanted to say to Nathan, who now was using his tent for cover together with Amara. "Listen up, those fuckers are jamming our comms and they will be here at any time. Take the MLBCS and find a clearing to use it, I doubt they can interfere with the laser. Just don't forget that your immediate safety comes first or else you might not be among the living when the pod arrives."
Ryo and Nathan were technically enemies, but the last casualty in the war between Earth and Mars had happened several years in the past, ensuring that he had no reason to wish any harm for the botanist even though he didn't like him.
As for Amara, it was a little different. He hurried back to his tent without saying anything to her. And he did that not because he wished her harm, but simply because he didn't understand what she had at her disposal to offer any useful advice.
"Wait, what are you gonna do?" Nathan shouted from a distance.
With the adrenalin of seeing how many Irisians were coming helping his sincerity, he shouted back. "I'm not leaving the planet unless mission control finds a way to save Ely too."
After that, Nathan and Amara disappeared from his mind as he took cover behind his tent, slamming his hand against the foldable fabric many times to get Elysira's attention. "Hurry up, we can't stay here any longer."
She left immediately after, struggling to maintain balance as she used a hand plus her tail to carry his backpack, while her gun threatened to tumble from her gasp in her other hand.
And besides, one thing that Ryo’s eyes were immediately drawn towards was the clothes she was wearing—his clothes. While her legs were still exposed, his jacket still covered a bit more than her hips, loosely engulfing her slender frame like a billowing sail.
"I put the food and water in your backpack." She let go of the heavy item right over his feet as she put the gun on the ground and lifted her arms for him to recover his jacket and t-shirt. "You can get dressed while the tent folds."
He might have allowed her to keep the jacket if not for it being an inconvenience to her, so he just took it, making the first time he saw her wearing clothes a very short experience.
"No time for that, it won't fold with all the paper you left on the ground." He said as he swiftly slipped his arms into the sleeves of the jacket and zipped it up in one smooth movement.
Ryo was already considering which path they would take to flee when he noticed something terrible—Elysira’s skin had just been filled with gray as tiny black spots began to appear and disappear as if rain on the sand of a desert.
"What's it now?" He asked, trying to hide how unprepared he was to deal with this.
"Nothing has changed." Elysira averted her eyes. "I'm a burden to you just as I was to Amara. If I had-"
"Oh, shut up and quit the self-pity!" Ryo realized he was being too harsh, but still went on to finish it. "The paper is our mistake and I'm staying because I like you. This simple. Now get your gun and use your goddam camouflage, just like that princess is doing."
Ryo felt awful after saying this, and Elysira seemed quite taken about as she stared at him with wide eyes.
A moment later, however, she bent over and took the gun from the ground, her exterior blending quite well with the surroundings.
Ryo felt bad for her, but now there was no time to talk. "We run now, let's go."
The sound of his own steps was all he heard as they were putting some distance from the tent, making it so that he had to check on Elysira every couple of steps he took to ensure she was following him.
It was only when he heard some gunshots from far behind that he felt her claws tugging at his jacket from behind. "I hope Nathan is like you."
***
This was an account based on what Ryo did during the first hour of the war. The previous narrative is based on the events of the morning of the twentieth day of the exploratory mission of Irisa. According to your current settings, no queries will be suggested.
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Hey ladies! I’m here hoping to find and build a short or long-term connection. I want to make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, send and receive those sweet and flirty goodnight and good morning texts, and the phone calls we wish didn’t have to end. I am open to a long-distance situation as long as we can meet up sooner than later, and our schedules line up for ease of communication. I’m not looking to rush into anything, but I am after something exclusive that we can build and grow together. I do not have, nor want, children of my own and I am not religious.
I value the simple (and nerdy!) things in life, and would rather find my person to spend my life with rather than living a life of comfort and privilege. My dream is to open an animal sanctuary or hobby farm that could double as a human therapy center. I am looking for a long-term, monogamous relationship with a woman within a few years of my age and within a few time zones of EST. Curly hair, freckles or dimples get you to the front of the line! So does a sass and wit. Or cat pictures. Or cookies. I’m easy to please, honestly.
For work right now I’m in a volunteer position at a local food bank where I socialize with seniors and the food-insecure and basically serve as a ‘Johnny on the spot’ helping with odd jobs, tech support, stuff like that. I also help with a cat rescue organization where I have fostered cats and do some admin work. I do freelance editing on the side, and would love to have some of my own work published in the future!

Hey ladies! I’m here hoping to find and build a short or long-term connection. I want to make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, send and receive those sweet and flirty goodnight and good morning texts, and the phone calls we wish didn’t have to end. I am open to a long-distance situation as long as we can meet up sooner than later, and our schedules line up for ease of communication. I’m not looking to rush into anything, but I am after something exclusive that we can build and grow together. I do not have, nor want, children of my own and I am not religious.
I value the simple (and nerdy!) things in life, and would rather find my person to spend my life with rather than living a life of comfort and privilege. My dream is to open an animal sanctuary or hobby farm that could double as a human therapy center. I am looking for a long-term, monogamous relationship with a woman within a few years of my age and within a few time zones of EST. Curly hair, freckles or dimples get you to the front of the line! So does a sass and wit. Or cat pictures. Or cookies. I’m easy to please, honestly.
For work right now I’m in a volunteer position at a local food bank where I socialize with seniors and the food-insecure and basically serve as a ‘Johnny on the spot’ helping with odd jobs, tech support, stuff like that. I also help with a cat rescue organization where I have fostered cats and do some admin work. I do freelance editing on the side, and would love to have some of my own work published in the future!

Hey ladies! I’m here hoping to find and build a short or long-term connection. I want to make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, send and receive those sweet and flirty goodnight and good morning texts, and the phone calls we wish didn’t have to end. I am open to a long-distance situation as long as we can meet up sooner than later, and our schedules line up for ease of communication. I’m not looking to rush into anything, but I am after something exclusive that we can build and grow together. I do not have, nor want, children of my own and I am not religious.
I value the simple (and nerdy!) things in life, and would rather find my person to spend my life with rather than living a life of comfort and privilege. My dream is to open an animal sanctuary or hobby farm that could double as a human therapy center. I am looking for a long-term, monogamous relationship with a woman within a few years of my age and within a few time zones of EST. Curly hair, freckles or dimples get you to the front of the line! So does a sass and wit. Or cat pictures. Or cookies. I’m easy to please, honestly.
For work right now I’m in a volunteer position at a local food bank where I socialize with seniors and the food-insecure and basically serve as a ‘Johnny on the spot’ helping with odd jobs, tech support, stuff like that. I also help with a cat rescue organization where I have fostered cats and do some admin work. I do freelance editing on the side, and would love to have some of my own work published in the future!

Hey ladies! I’m here hoping to find and build a short or long-term connection. I want to make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, send and receive those sweet and flirty goodnight and good morning texts, and the phone calls we wish didn’t have to end. I am open to a long-distance situation as long as we can meet up sooner than later, and our schedules line up for ease of communication. I’m not looking to rush into anything, but I am after something exclusive that we can build and grow together. I do not have, nor want, children of my own and I am not religious.
I value the simple (and nerdy!) things in life, and would rather find my person to spend my life with rather than living a life of comfort and privilege. My dream is to open an animal sanctuary or hobby farm that could double as a human therapy center. I am looking for a long-term, monogamous relationship with a woman within a few years of my age and within a few time zones of EST. Curly hair, freckles or dimples get you to the front of the line! So does a sass and wit. Or cat pictures. Or cookies. I’m easy to please, honestly.
For work right now I’m in a volunteer position at a local food bank where I socialize with seniors and the food-insecure and basically serve as a ‘Johnny on the spot’ helping with odd jobs, tech support, stuff like that. I also help with a cat rescue organization where I have fostered cats and do some admin work. I do freelance editing on the side, and would love to have some of my own work published in the future!

Hey ladies! I’m here hoping to find and build a short or long-term connection. I want to make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, send and receive those sweet and flirty goodnight and good morning texts, and the phone calls we wish didn’t have to end. I am open to a long-distance situation as long as we can meet up sooner than later, and our schedules line up for ease of communication. I’m not looking to rush into anything, but I am after something exclusive that we can build and grow together. I do not have, nor want, children of my own and I am not religious.
I value the simple (and nerdy!) things in life, and would rather find my person to spend my life with rather than living a life of comfort and privilege. My dream is to open an animal sanctuary or hobby farm that could double as a human therapy center. I am looking for a long-term, monogamous relationship with a woman within a few years of my age and within a few time zones of EST. Curly hair, freckles or dimples get you to the front of the line! So does a sass and wit. Or cat pictures. Or cookies. I’m easy to please, honestly.
For work right now I’m in a volunteer position at a local food bank where I socialize with seniors and the food-insecure and basically serve as a ‘Johnny on the spot’ helping with odd jobs, tech support, stuff like that. I also help with a cat rescue organization where I have fostered cats and do some admin work. I do freelance editing on the side, and would love to have some of my own work published in the future!

Here's a post of mine from 2017

I'm in.
Hard mode
Indefinitely
My goal is to regain, no find myself. PMO'ing since the age of 12. I'm 27 now. Porn fucked up my life. No more!
Today is one year after my attempted OD. The catalyst was my girlfriend of five years leaving me and me screwing up my career as a firefighter. I was broken then and I'm still broken now. I blame PMO and porn in general. Insanity is repeating the same cycle and expecting a different result. Time to break this cycle.
Post end
^{How naive I was}

Back story with context

I now know my addiction started with MO at the age of 5. I used to do that on a daily basis to self soothe and it didn't help that I discovered what can be done with an electric massager. See my parents got divorced the first time around about then, they remarried each other, only to get divorced again. Mom remarried a abusive alcoholic, moved to my absent father and verbally abusive stepmother, all this before turning 14. Looking back I can see I was neglected and found my own coping mechanisms. Smoking cigarettes, weed and alcohol since 13, other drugs soon followed at 16, whatever I could get my hands on.
Note all my compulsive and addictive behaviours were actively being pursued in some form or another throughout my story, I merely set the stage with the background.
At 19 I lost my virginity to a broken and hurt girl that was on average banging 4 guys a week, she literally had to take off her clothes and ask me whilst naked 'What are you waiting for?' I was so inept and socially awkward. After two hours of furiously boning because I couldn't finish, I snuck back to my room only to jerk off. I recall thinking to myself was that it? Was all the hype about that? Needles to say this girl went and 'cheated' on me after a week, left me a tad embittered.
At 21 I somehow got my first girlfriend, she had been raised by her grandparents because both her parents had tragically died in two separate freak accidents, she had proper traditional values, real wivey material. Wanted to wait until marriage. None of it mattered much to me, I knew what I wanted and at 21 it certainly wasn't a wife. She was studying nursing and I was a firefighter, we were both renting, me with friends, her in a student commune. We started occasionally sleeping over at each other, very innocently at first just making out, cuddling and talking.
post deleted
She took the sheets with to wash and made a hasty retreat, I went to work in a cold sweat, post clarity had never been so fucking surreal nor had it ever garnered so much self loathing.
What had I done.
Later that day she messaged and asked me over where she gave me a hand written letter, front and back, tear stains and little hearts. In it written how beautiful it was, how much she loves me and how no-one can ever find out.
I felt physically sick.
What had I done.
We secretly moved in together and what followed was five years of a co-dependant relationship where she grew to hate me and I went progressively deeper into the abyss of porn.
In the interim my father passed away from cancer, I DUI'd and totalled into a young married couple, got arrested, went to a 'Stress clinic' and broke up with my girlfriend out of guilt. Quickly got back together and a few months later she mercifully broke up with me. I was just so weak. Maybe she just woke from being disillusioned, maybe she grew out of her naivety, maybe my addictions just followed their natural conclusion, maybe PTSD and tragedy got the better of me. She got a new boyfriend, I almost got a restraining order. (She withdrew the case in the judges chamber's on condition I NEVER contact her again) In short succession I slept with multiple partners, a few times while blackout drunk, a few one night stands and I left a wake of pain, regret, broken hearts and shame. All consensual.
Finally I tried to OD on sleeping pills, went back to the 'Stress clinic' and whilst there someone dear called and told me that to gain my life I had to give it away. Found religion or it found me, resigned from the Fire brigade.
Footnote~ The ex got married and became a mother sometime during, heard it through the grapevine.
She'll never have to see me again as per her wishes.
Learnt about NoFap {insert original post}
I moved a couple of states over, away from everything I had broken and everyone I'd hurt. Went on a journey, forgave myself, hated myself, loathed myself, forgave myself again, went on another journey. The whole time PMO and MO came and went.
Streaks came and went. Depression stayed and dark thoughts came back like a long lost friend but I kept on crawling towards the light, towards freedom.
FFW to now
I'm cold turkey from substances and on a 18 day streak. I've come to realise you can't run from this demon and this fight is worth fighting head on. PAWS or Post-accute Withdrawal Syndrome is real and even with my longer streaks I've only been kicking the can further and further down the road by occasionally binge relapsing.
I haven't been in a relationship nor have I had sex since the fallout. Real intimacy absolutely terrifies me and I suffer from anxiety and depressive episodes.
But there's hope!
I've been seeing a life coach, exercising and spending more time with friends and family, joined a men's prayer and accountability group. To go fast go alone, to go far go with others and I'm in it for the long haul.
The penny's dropped.
I can tell something has changed.
I'm coming back to life.
3 months ago I met a girl on a online dating platform, absolutely way out of my league, someone who's beautiful inside and out. I'll be meeting her for the first time this Friday and we'll be spending the weekend together, in a social setting.
I'm excited yet apprehensive. I don't want to place her on a pedestal but I want to treat her like a queen. We're only meeting and nothing intimate will happen, both of us want to wait until we're married be it with one another or someone else. But darn I'm excited. I want to hope again. I want to love and be loved.
I want to live again.
tl:dr

1. Porn can mess you up and the abyss is deeper than you can imagine.
   
2. Addiction is not about the substance but rather underlying behaviours and coping mechanisms.
   
3. Circumstances nor your past should determine your future.
   
4. There's alway's hope!
   

Here's a post of mine from 2017

I'm in.
Hard mode
Indefinitely
My goal is to regain, no find myself. PMO'ing since the age of 12. I'm 27 now. Fucked up my life. No more!
Today is one year after my attempted suicide. The catalyst was my girlfriend of five years leaving me and me screwing up my career as a firefighter. I was broken then and I'm still broken now. I blame PMO and porn in general. Insanity is repeating the same cycle and expecting a different result. Time to break this cycle.
^{How naiive I was}

Back story with context

I now know my addiction started with MO at the age of 5. I used to do that on a daily basis to self soothe and it didn't help that I discovered what can be done with an electric massager. See my parents got divorced the first time around about then, they remarried each other, only to get divorced again. Mom remarried a abusive alcoholic, moved to my absent father and verbally abusive stepmother, all this before turning 14. Looking back I can see I was neglected and found my own coping mechanisms. Smoking cigarettes, weed and alcohol since 13, other drugs soon followed at 16, whatever I could get my hands on. Opiates, hallucinogens, psychoactives, stimulants, depressants, inhalants if it could be abused chances are I would and have, fortunately not crack or needles, it blessedly somehow never crossed my path but the rest was fair game when it did and I was always on the prowl for something new or a quick fix.
Note all my compulsive and addictive behaviours were actively being pursued in some form or another throughout my story, I set the stage with the background but nothing I've done is justifiable.
At 19 I lost my virginity to a broken girl that was on average banging 4 guys a week, she literally had to take off her clothes and ask me whilst naked 'what am I waiting for?' I was so inept and socially awkward. After two hours of furiously boning because I couldn't finish, I snuck back to my room only to jerk off. I recall thinking to myself was that it? Was all the hype about that? Needles to say this girl went and 'cheated' on me after a week, left me a tad embittered.
At 21 I somehow got my first girlfriend, 18 straight out of school she had been raised by her grandparents because both her parents had tragically died in two separate freak accidents, she had proper traditional values, real wivey material. Wanted to wait for her big day. None of it mattered much to me as I started the process to groom her over the course of 3 months. I knew what I wanted and at 21 it certainly wasn't a wife. She was studying nursing and I was a firefighter, we were both renting, me with friends, her in a student commune. We started occasionally sleeping over at each other, very innocently at first just making out, cuddling and talking.(explicit)>! Progressively I moved towards groping and heavy petting. Until one morning after a house party at my place. I woke up with a boner and her snuggling up against me. I had had enough of waiting. I won't try to sugarcoat it or gloss over it or paint it pretty.!<
She said no.
More than once.
My mind went into that blank primal space of no return, the same space it would go with porn. I forced myself on-top of her and I raped her.
She took the sheets with to wash and made a hasty retreat, I went to work in a cold sweat, post clarity had never been so fucking surreal nor had it ever garnered so much self loathing.
What had I done.
Later that day she messaged and asked me over where she gave me a hand written letter, front and back, tear stains and hearts. In it written how beautiful it was, how much she loves me and how no-one can ever find out. I felt physically sick.
We moved in together and what followed was five years of a co-dependant relationship where she grew to hate me and I went progressively deeper into the abyss of porn. Maybe she just woke from being disillusioned, maybe she grew out of her naiivety and maybe my addictions just followed their natural conclusion, maybe PTSD and tragedy got the better of me.
In the interim my father passed away from cancer, I DUI'd and totalled into a young married couple, got arrested, went to a mental institute and broke up with my girlfriend. Got back together and she mercifully broke up with me. I was just so weak. She got a new boyfriend, I almost got a restraining order. (She withdrew the case in the judges chamber's on condition I NEVER contact her again) In short succession I slept with multiple partners, a few times while blackout drunk, a few one night stands and I left a wake of pain, regret, broken hearts and shame. All consensual.
Finally I tried to OD on sleeping pills, went back to the mental institute and whilst there someone dear called and told me that to gain my life I had to give it away. Found religion, resigned from the Fire brigade.
Footnote~ The ex got married and became a mother sometime during, heard it through the grapevine. She'll never have to see me again, that was her wish and one I will gladly grant.
Learn about NoFap {insert above post}
I fled a couple of states over, away from everything I had broken and everyone I'd hurt. Went on a journey, forgave myself, hated myself, loathed myself, forgave myself again, went on another journey. The whole time PMO and MO come and go.
Streaks came and went. Depression stayed and suicidal thoughts came back like a long lost friend.
FFW to now
I'm cold turkey from substances and on a 18 day streak. I've come to realise you can't run from this demon. PAWS or Post-accute Withdrawal Syndrome is real and even with my longer streaks I've only been kicking the can further and further down the road by occasionally binge relapsing.
I haven't been in a relationship nor have I had sex since the fallout. Real intimacy absolutely terrifies me and I suffer from anxiety and depressive episodes.
But there's hope, I hope
I've been seeing a life coach, exercising and spending more time with friends and family and I've joined a men's prayer and accountability group.
The penny's dropped.
I can tell something has changed.
I'm coming back to life.
3 months ago I met a girl on a online dating platform, absolutely way out of my league, someone who's beautiful inside and out. I'll be meeting her for the first time this Friday and we'll be spending the weekend together, in a social setting.
I'm excited yet apprehensive. I don't want to place her on a pedestal but I want to treat her like a queen. We're only meeting and nothing intimate will happen, both of us want to wait until we're married be it with one another or someone else. But darn I'm excited. I want to hope again. I want to love and be loved.
I want to live again.
tl:dr

1. Porn can mess you up and the abyss is deeper than you can imagine.
2. Addiction is not about the substance but rather underlying behaviours and coping mechanisms.
3. Circumstances nor your past should determine your future.
4. There's alway's hope!

Hello.
So, me (25M) and my girlfriend (20) are talking about the future. I said I'd want to settle down as soon as possible (because, you know, I'm getting old) and she has said that, if and when she comes over, she'd want to settle down with me. That means children and a house (both are currently living with our parents).
She has said that she wants to become a teacher and that, obviously, would mean she would have to go to university. I don't have a problem with that. I'm currently in university myself.
She said, after I said why, "Because I love you and I’ve never had this deep of a connection with anyone before. I know that u are my forever.".
However, I think I'm self sabotaging it. I said that I was concerned. I said, when pressed, "Such as housing, your family and friends, what if we break up? What if one of us falls for another person? I'd need to get a job, work long(ish) hours to cover child support, everything like that...".
Fyi, I know I'd have to work.
She has reassured me quite a lot by the way.
Am I overthinking? We have never met in real life, and I'm scared that things will go south, like a year afterwards. And then I'd have to pay, like I said before, child support.
This is a short post. What do I do

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Somehow short(‘s) are shorting favorite companies so much that they likely fear revealing them selves, fully, the way some who like their favorite company(s) do.
Neither then nor now do we fully know who is causing this disruption in our markets.
Nobody wants to go to Jail.
Those of us who like the stock don’t “have” to close our positions, we can wait, and don’t have to worry about our activities in the market being fair either.
And
I am not a CAT.
So I can’t tell you who has placed us in this predicament.
What I can tell you is nobody has to sell, but somebody has to buy… or else how did we find ourselves in this predicament, again.
For those of you wondering what’s going on.
Think of it like this, you can’t step on something that is very much alive and expect to snuff it out, you can only hope to keep your foot on it long enough, to bide yourself more time, but for what?
It doesn’t matter, the foot doesn’t work anymore that thing that’s alive is done being stepped on.
God Bless and Goodnight.

Obviously, I'll be vague about the more sensitive or identifiable details, but here is a rundown of what has happened.
Recently moved back from overseas and looking for employment. This is in England.
Nov '23 - Interviewed for a role. I was told I was the last person to be interviewed on the way out, but an interviewer corrected that as an Executive was wondering whether to approach someone else about the role. A couple of days later I was told that I wasn't successful, but that they're putting me forward for another role that I might be suitable for.
Dec '23 - Meeting about the other role. It sounded great, and it was strongly suggested that I was the only candidate for the role. I got positive feedback and was told by the person in Talent (let's call them TK) that there needed to be a meeting to confirm the specifics of the role. This got pushed back a few times and I was told that it was definitely going ahead in the new year. As I had been living with family whilst I found my feet, I asked for a firm assurance that it would as I needed to move for the role, and my living arrangements were increasingly unstable and I'd need to move to a different city. I got firm assurance, and so my girlfriend and I moved into a flat closeby with a year's lease.
Jan - Feb '24 - The meeting kept being pushed back, or was vague. TK didn't keep me up to date and wouldn't always reply to texts/emails within a reasonable time. I got repeated assurance that the job was going ahead shortly. I was eventually told the job description had been finalised and I was sent a copy to review. I read it and said I was happy to move forward. I was emailed a conditional offer of employment document that was referred to as a contract. The conditions were;

1. Evidence I am eligible to work in the UK
2. Successful medical
3. Satisfactory references
4. Evidence of qualifications
5. Security clearances (incl overseas checks for the 2 countries I'd lived in outside of UK)
6. Successful 12 week probation
7. Agreement that employer can deduct any liabilities from salary
8. Acceptance of T&Cs in job offer letter

I signed the document and returned it. The week afterwards, I attended my medical and provided my ID documents for the checks to be carried out. The week after that, TK called to say that a new Executive had decided to take a different strategic direction and that the team I would be a part of had been pulled. For this reason, my job offer was withdrawn. I asked about the contract that I'd signed and TK said that they'd check. They called back the next day to explain that my overseas checks hadn't come back yet so they didn't owe me anything.
March - May '24 - I wanted to see if my checks would eventually come back, as that would satisfy another of the 8 conditions. My UK and one of the overseas ones came back clear, but the second overseas one was cancelled by the employer. I had independently had one carried out in this process and that came back clear, so I know I wouldn't have failed it. Following ACAS rules, I had already informally raised my concern over the phone, and so a formal grievance was the next step. The job offer had been withdrawn, but there had been no conversation around the document that was referred to as a contract, not even verbally. In that document, there are two sentences next to each other that are a little unclear:

Your notice period to \employer* will be 3 months from either side.*
\employer* will give you 1 month's notice for the first 4 years of employment and an additional 1 week for each additional full year of service up to a maximum of 12.*

These are right next to each other, but seem to contradict. I've also never seen the phrase "from either side" before.
In my grievance, I explained the negative effect this has had on my financial stability and mental health, and pointed out the notice period above. I also mentioned that I was now locked into living in an unfamiliar city, and that my future job search was now very limited to the area. I didn't ask for a specific outcome, just that I'd like to start a constructive dialogue and that I'd like to see their grievance policy. They've replied and reinforced their position that they don't contractually owe me anything as I didn't satisfy condition 6 - the probation. They also said that they'd offer 4 weeks' wages as an ex gratia. I haven't replied, as I'd like to properly understand my options.
Questions

1. How do you interpret the notice period?
2. Can a company withdraw a job offer and a contract without honouring a notice period for the reasons they've given (change of strategic direction / haven't completed probation). I haven't been given a chance to complete the probation and so it's not like I've underperformed or been frequently absent.
3. Is there a difference between a job offer and a contract, and do both have to be formally withdrawn?
4. Am I right in saying that because they haven't followed the ACAS Code of Practice for Grievances?
5. Do you think I have a case that is worth pursuing in ACAS' Early Conciliation / Tribunal?
6. Is there anything else I've missed?

Thanks so much, this has been a huge headache over the last 6 months.

My boyfriend and I met in December 2023, started dating February 2024, and have now been together for almost 3 months. We live three hours away but see each other 2-5 times a month and call every day.
In January 2023, both my boyfriend and I went through long term breakups with our first loves. I had been with my ex boyfriend for 3 years, and he had been with his ex girlfriend on & off for 4 years.
When they were broken up, he was still very much obsessed with her. He would date and sleep with other people, but never seriously. He would leave relationships for her and block people once she would tell him she wants him back.
Their relationship was a toxic, vicious cycle that neither could break. But she was always the one that had the most power over him and would initiate all the breakups, while he would come back to her any time she was done dating other people for a little while. The final time she came back, he even proposed to her and they were engaged for a few months.
My past relationship, on the other hand, was a consistent one, and I didn’t have much dating experience after we broke up. My current boyfriend is my second relationship ever, so I’m still learning how to love someone while we both have pasts.
He acts obsessed with me. Super in love, always taking pictures of me and posting me on his social medias, spending so much money to visit me, calling me every night, making a private couple Instagram devoted to our pictures, but still brings up his ex a lot. We both had that problem a bit, but I slowly stopped doing it as often when I realized it wasn’t healthy. However, he always compares me to her. “() would do this.” “() liked this kind of music.”
Well in March, after a year of no contact between them, she (like always based on what he said) finally texted him just to see where he lived now and tell him she’s back in their hometown, asking how he is. He told me they had a short texting convo. I was a little jealous, but since he told me about it and it seemed small and short, I didn’t think too deeply. But it sent him into days worth of a spiral thinking about it. I tried not to bring it up too much.
Then one time in April, he got super depressed and wouldn’t tell me anything. I figured it was about his ex, as he still seems sad about her sometimes and talks so often about her. He got so bad that he drove the 6 hours back to his hometown where his parents live, took days off of work, which is also where she’s from and they met, and stayed with his parents.
I was dumb and suggested that he calls her to finally get some closure. He didn’t tell me if he would or not, until a week later after he was a bit himself again, he confirmed they talked but said “it’s just between me and her.” I said okay and didn’t bring it up even though it bothered me to know what the talked about.
We’ve been doing good since then, but he gets REALLY jealous of me talking with any guys at all. Like REALLY jealous. He likes to look through my phone and read my messages sometimes, which I don’t mind bc I have nothing to hide. But he don’t let me see his. Then two weeks ago, I got curious to see if he did really meet with his ex, and I saw the dreaded messages when he was sleeping (I know, it’s not good but I had suspicions).
During that time he was depressed, they didn’t call but he asked if they could meet in person. It seemed like she was really distant and not interested before or after their meeting, but he texted her things after they met up like, “I would’ve really regret if I didn’t get to see you before going to work abroad for 3 months.” And, “Are you sure you don’t have any feelings for me?”and, “I could never hate you, why would you think that? Please talk to me, I want to hear how you’re feeling.”
I tried to silently leave his apartment while he was asleep, but he woke up and cried, begging me to stay and that he’s over her, he loves me, he just needed closure to confirm she doesn’t have feelings for him so he can move on.
But it hurt me that he needed to know she doesn’t have feelings before he could continue a relationship with me. It makes me feel like if she wasn’t so distant and did have feelings, he would’ve left me immediately. I feel like a placeholder.
He also never told her about me, and told me that the reason he’s taking a work trip abroad for 3 months is because she always comes back in the summer and is scared she’s gonna final his new city and address and he won’t be able to turn her away. That was his explanation while crying to me and begging me to stay. And I said, “So the reason I’m losing my boyfriend for 3 months is because you think your ex will come back again like usual, find your new address, and you won’t be able to say no?”
It caused a huge fight, him sending her a message saying he’s with someone new now and loves me, wants to be with me, and is saying goodbye to their relationship forever.
But then after saying he blocked her, I saw a few days ago he didn’t and only hid her chat. He also sent her contact to a no name social media account that I think is his second account so that he has another way to contact her when he’s away for three months, but he says it’s not.
He said it’s the account of a friend that liked her while he was dating her and wanted to get with her if they ever broke up, so he sent her contact to this friend (which is still weird). But there’s no call or chat history with this friend. Just her contact.
So I’m wondering, should I break up with him? Is he still attached to his ex and I’m the idiot rebound?

TL;DR Mawage. Mawage is what bwings us togethah today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam wifin a dream!
Our Chairman and these Regarded APES have come here to make this tweasured agweement in front of their family and fwiends, pwomising their commitment in this holy and magnificent pwace, today and each day fowawd.
We would not be here today without wuv. Wuv, twoo wuv between these two. Twoo wuv will follow you forevah, so tweasure your wuv, Mr. Chairman with your Highly Regarded Apes, always.
My wife of 21yrs, who is pursuing her doctorate in Psychology to enhance her Marriage and Family counseling practice, has always been a supportive listener, especially throughout this saga. We watched together the events in 2021 unfold in real-time and in a recent discussion concerning market manipulations and the media's role in it all she interjected with unexpected psychological insights. What felt like a gentle change in the subject matter led to an unexpected and insightful conversation about narcissists, divorcing a narcissist, and the tactics of navigating them in your personal and professional lives.
Miracle Max: “'To blave.' And as we all know, 'to blave' means 'to bluff.' So, you're probably playing cards and he cheated…”
Did you know that there are divorce attorneys who specialize in dealing with cases involving narcissistic spouses? These attorneys are typically well-versed in high-conflict divorce scenarios and understand the psychological dynamics that can arise when one party exhibits narcissistic behaviors. They focus on strategies to manage manipulation, gaslighting, and other tactics that a narcissistic spouse might use to control or prolong legal proceedings.
Specialized attorneys in this area offer guidance on how to maintain clear and documented communication, set firm boundaries, and protect oneself legally and emotionally. Their expertise is particularly valuable in helping clients navigate the complexities of custody battles, financial disputes, and other contentious issues where a narcissistic spouse may attempt to use legal strategies to their advantage.
During our conversation my highly regarded ape-ette, outlined a total of 7 “Acts” in the Narcissist’s playbook.”

1. Denial
2. Minimization
3. Deflection
4. Rationalization
5. Displacement
6. Generalization
7. Victim Blaming

If you have ever had dealings with a Narcissist you know all to well these acts are rarely played in any kind of orderly fashion. Infact, their “playbill” is so well known that a short poem was created by Dyana Craig called “The Narcissist's Prayer”:

1. That didn't happen.
2. And if it did, it wasn't that bad.
3. And if it was, that's not a big deal.
4. And if it is, that's not my fault.
5. And if it was, I didn't mean it.
6. And if I did, you deserved it.

For the purposes of this post and to fully wrap our heads around the manipulative actions by those in the media, the financial system, in government, or our personal lives, we expanded upon the above as follows:

1. "That did not occur."
2. "And if it did, it was not that severe."
3. "And if it was, it is not a significant matter."
4. "And if it is, it is not my fault."
5. "And if it was, I did not intend it."
6. "And if I did, there were extenuating circumstances."
7. "And if there weren't, you provoked me into it."
8. "And if you didn't, others would have reacted the same way."
9. "And if they wouldn’t, the real issue is being blown out of proportion."
10. "And if it isn't, everyone makes mistakes."
11. "And if they don’t, I am under a lot of stress."
12. "And if I did, you deserved it."

These 12 narcissistic acts can be grouped into these stages that reflect a progression in the way responsibility, blame, and reality are manipulated by the media.
Stage 1: Denial

• "That did not occur." - Absolute refusal to acknowledge the reality of the event.

Stage 2: Minimization

• "And if it did, it was not that severe."
• "And if it was, it is not a significant matter." - These steps serve to downplay the severity and importance of the event, suggesting it is unworthy of concern or reaction.

Stage 3: Deflection

• "And if it is, it is not my fault."
• "And if it was, I did not intend it." - Shifts focus from the act itself to the intention behind it or external factors, deflecting responsibility away from the self.

Stage 4: Rationalization

• "And if I did, there were extenuating circumstances."
• "And if there weren't, you provoked me into it."
• "And if you didn't, others would have reacted the same way." - Attempts to provide reasons or excuses for the behavior that justify it or align it with normal responses.

Stage 5: Displacement

• "And if they wouldn’t, the real issue is being blown out of proportion." - This step attempts to shift the discussion from the actions to the reactions of others, suggesting an overreaction.

Stage 6: Generalization

• "And if it isn't, everyone makes mistakes."
• "And if they don’t, I am under a lot of stress." - These steps attempt to dilute personal responsibility by invoking common human faults or personal stress, suggesting that any errors are part of broader, understandable human conditions.

Stage 7: Victim Blaming

• "And if I did, you deserved it." - The final step, which shifts all remaining blame to the victim, positioning them as deserving of the actions or consequences.

These stages reflect a progression from outright denial to subtle and overt forms of manipulation, ending with a complete inversion of blame. Each stage is designed to protect the narcissist’s self-image and deflect any responsibility for their actions onto others or external circumstances.
For those of use that have been around since the beginning and has endured all of the above reminds me of one of my favorite parts in the Princess Bride:
Westley: Aha! Your pig fiance is too late! A few more steps and we'll be safe in the fire swamp. Buttercup: We'll never survive. Westley: Nonsense! You're only saying that because no one ever has. Westley: It's not that bad...Well I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here but the trees are actually quite lovely.
We begin unwinding all financial and manipulative aspects of the now very dead relationship that once existed. We document everything and those weary and nervous and we pick back up with…
Buttercup: We'll never succeed. We may as well die here. Westley: No, no. We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt - no problem. There's a popping sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too…
We navigate the shills, the media pundits, and hedge fund market making Mayo loving thunts, aka the R.O.U.S’s. Through it all, we arrive at the events of the day! Our mascot triumphantly returns and now the Media is pulling a Prince Humperdink as if we are going to fall for it.
Buttercup: We did it! Westley: Now, was that so terrible? Humperdink: Surrender! Westley: You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well then, I accept. Humperdink: I give you full marks for bravery. Don't make yourself a fool. Westley: Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the fire swamp. We can live there happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.
Navigating and enduring the demise of your first narcissist relationship is, in my opinion, the fire swamp. Reading all the DD ( • )( • ) and easily recognizing all of manipulations and cheating tactics being used and not reacting to them is what makes apes say “We can live there happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.”
Last but not least… our current marriage to our chairman, is bliss compared to our prior sham marriage where belief in a free and fair once existed. Remember, narcissists are married to the devil for time and all eternity!
I share this so that further discussion can continue and help everyone understand the kinds of people we are up against. They will never change, they will never care, and if they are fined or even found guilty of a crime, they will always and forever be the victim.