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2024.05.15 23:10 CleanElk3560 AITAH - for cutting my mom off from my life because of a birthday text.
I'm not doing great at the moment since it just happened. I don't like gossip or talking behind people's back. Ironic I know. This post is about whether or not I did the right thing. Please don't insult anyone else: my mom (umm), my wife (Annie), my dad (abpa), my brother (Barry), my sister (Maggie), my cousin (Frank).
Save your judgment for me. Context: I'm 35M. first born. I left home after a huge fight with my mom after college. I was homeless for a bit. We've since reconciled. But I suppose not anymore. There's history there.
I'm only posting to see if what I did was wrong.
All names have been replaced and are not real. Other details like dates and places that are personally identifiable will be removed/changed. There are two languages: I will always show the original and translate as fairly as I can.
It is relevant for fairness to share that my mom is 3 hours ahead of me. I'm west coast, she's east coast. (10am for me it's 1pm for her) My time will be shown in the messages.
I will keep all messages exact and unedited, outside of the above.
I repeat: DO NOT INSULT MY MOM OR WIFE OR FAMILY. am I the asshole. nothing about them. just me.
On Mom's Birthday:
Mom [10:43am] it's mom's birthday but nothing is here (original: 엄마 생일인데 아무것도 없어.) [10:52am] [Picture of kitchen island with boxed tonesunscreen on it] [10:53am] (Mom is/I am) really sad. This is what Annie sent me for a gift. $10-20 toiletries. Something I don't even use. (original: 엄마 많이 섭섭해. 이게 [name]가 보낸 선물이야. $10-20 짜리 화장품. 엄마 이거 쓰지도 않는데.)
Me [11:51am] She got the same thing she got for you and her mom. Throw it out and I'll make sure to buy something nicer for you.
Mom [12:03pm] If she or her mom got the thing then I should get the same thing. I'm not Annie or Annie's mom. I'm your mom. You shouldn't treat me like this. [12:07pm] Not even one happy birthday said. (original: 생일 축하한단 말 한마디 없이.)
Me [12:56pm] call (no answer) [1:11pm] call (no answer)
Next day:
Mom [5:10am] I didn't answer the phone yesterday because I felt like I'm crying. I don’t want to talk like that with you. When you got married Annie I tried to treat her as an our family member. I know I can not treat her same as Maggie (my sister). But last year she didn’t say any word on my birthday. Even you and I talked on the phone. I didn’t want so much from her just as a family say good word on birthday wishes. This year same thing. And you, when you asked me what can I do for you ( maybe you forgot that even you asked) I literally said “다른거 필요 없고 무슨날 엄마 밥이나 사줘” (translation: I don't need anything just buy me some dinner some time) I’m not asking you expensive things. Don’t say throw them out but nicer things. You really missed the point.
Me [11:28am] You were upset because I didn’t do something for your birthday by 1040am on a Workday. It’s not about expensive things but you want to text a picture of the gift and say it’s $10-20. You got a gift, but no card. It’s cheap but it’s not about money. Annie’s a family member, how could she not text. Right after she texted happy mother’s day to you. Yesterday before dinner, Annie tells me “make sure you call your mom it’s her birthday”. I didn’t tell her what happened because I don’t gossip and talk bad about people behind their back. I call or text and wish a happy birthday to family. Like I’ve done every year. It’s the same as what everyone does for me. Sometimes I don’t get a call. Sometimes I don’t get a text. Sometimes the call/text comes a day later. Never did I text my family members in the morning asking why people didn’t do more for me. I’ll make sure to let Annie know about wishing happy birthday to you. In my screenshot is my daily goals from yesterday, I was excited about this week. One of those things was, of course, calling you for your birthday, just like I called for mother’s day. Two hours later while I’m in a work meeting with my boss, 1040am, I get a text from you telling me about how sad you are from my wife’s cheap gift and how I haven’t said happy birthday yet. Yesterday I woke up and went to work, and planned to call you after. You have a habit of disproportionately trying to make me feel bad. You’ve done it on your birthday before many years ago after you and abpa[dad in korean] had a fight. I was a college student and you took it out on me cause I was the easy target. You’re an adult. Your child can call later in the day to wish you a happy birthday. It’s not okay to text trying to make your son feel bad about not doing something sooner. [11:29am] [Screenshot of whatsapp conversation between me and my virtual assistant] [Screenshot start] [8:13am yesterday] Goals for Today, I want to be disciplined. It’s been a few weeks now since my conference and because of the conference and drinking there, I became slow and lost the energy to stay on top of my diet/exercise and morning routines that I was so happy and proud of. Let’s get back to that this week. Let’s work hard, let’s continue to set sights on big goals. I want to work on the 3 projects I have going right now. [personal project 1 company idea], [personal project 2 company idea], and [current company].
Today I will exercise 25 situps, 25 pushups, 25 curls, 25 shoulder press, and 25 squats. Today I will finish a few [work things] for [company]. Today I will teach class for [project 2] finish [lesson], and let folks know that there will not be class on wednesday. I will call my mom later today and wish her a happy birthday. I will also be going to my brother’s to take care of credit card points so that we can buy tickets for [trip], let’s work hard today and get a lot done. [Screenshot end]
Mom [4:09pm] My birthday is passed last year and this year. She didn’t text or say anything these two years. You may think that’s ok but not for me. I just expect to acknowledge these days and congrat each other. Is that too much? I don’t expect anything from her. But you mentioned so proudly on Sunday that Annie send me TWO gifts. I just want you to know I’m very disappointed that you are ok with that gifts. That’s why I mentioned the price as well. My birthday and Mother’s Day are always near by. Sometimes same day or sometimes few day apart. Is that too much that I asked you more thoughtful gift from you? If you think that’s too much , forget about this conversation. I think I’ve never treated you like this.
Me [2:03am] You’ve treated me way worse in my life. You didn’t wait for a text. You wanted to text me to make me feel bad. You had a bad morning. Maybe a bad night. You didn’t feel like I cared or people cared. Or maybe something else happened. And you wanted me to feel bad.
But your happiness is not my responsibility.
Your birthday is not a free pass to send guilt tripping texts to me and expect nice texts back. Annie sent you poison? She sent you a 4.5 star tonesunscreen with thousands of nice reviews. She was just trying to send something nice. It’s not expensive. But you say it’s not about money? Then why are you crying about it?
No one said “happy birthday” yet? The day wasn’t over. Why text me only? Barry[My brother] didn’t call until 5pm.
No one else gave you a good gift? Or are you comparing it with gifts that you’ve given to Annie? Then you give revenge-gifts. If that’s it then don’t ever give Annie and I anything ever again. You just wanted a dinner? I’m on the other side of the country.
Should I text you on my birthday asking why my mailbox is empty? Should I ask abpa[dad] the last 20 years where’s my present? Should I try and make you or abpa feel bad on my birthday if I’m unhappy? No, of course not. None of those is how a mature person behaves. Because my happiness is not your responsibility.
“Just want a text to acknowledge and congratulate”. You didn’t wait for any text. You chose to start upset.
Why didn’t you text Barry? if it’s just the text of happy birthday? You scared of his response?
I know why you’re not scared of me. 5 years of therapy to learn the way you used me as an emotional punching bag.
Your birthday morning wasn’t the way you wanted. Your gift wasn’t the way you wanted. You didn’t feel like anyone cared. Whoever you talked to. Whatever happened. You were unhappy. So you sent those texts to me.
You try to make me feel bad when you’re unhappy with your life. Why? When you used to have a hard day at work. Bad [customer]. Bad traffic. Bad interaction with coworkers/boss. Bad talk with abpa[dad], grandma, Frank hyung(older cousin who lived with us). Who do you think received your anger for no fucking reason? If I did all my homework, played [instrument 1], practiced [instrument 2], got good grades, did all my kumon(after school homework) did you know it doesn’t matter what I did, if YOU had a bad day?
If I’m watching tv, or playing a game, if you have a bad day, then my day has to be a bad day. Because people around you can’t be happy when you’re miserable. Not people that you can control. And controlling me was all you had. Even as I got older. Not allowed to leave the house.
You couldn’t control the language or culture out of the house, you couldn’t control grandma, frank hyung, or abpa in the house. your whole life, you couldn’t control too much.
So you controlled what? me. a kid. And as soon as hitting me didn’t make me cry you just tried to control my emotions to make me cry.
2010 May [day retracted]. Fight with abpa in the morning, he leaves the house. So you go down to the basement to yell at your son for not getting you a cake.
Junior in college crying, guilty in the basement buying you cake. That’s what you wanted. Someone you controlled. Someone to be miserable because you were miserable.
5 years of therapy in my late 20s to learn you’re the reason I don’t notice when women step all over me. I grew up used to it. Bad women relationships, weak sense of self, emotional abuse, angry all the time. Parents like you made Asian Americans the least likely to become managers in the USA (context: I became one in my later 20s). No confidence. No inner strength. Just quiet private anger. A young man clenching his fists, holding his tongue, and listening to orders.
Constantly blame others, blame myself. Always angry. Always yelling at [dog1]/[dog2], always trying to control them when I’m upset. Critical of everything, everyone, myself, never feeling like I’m enough or okay. Because growing up I was constantly on the receiving end of anger that I didn’t create. Don’t talk back. Don’t look at the eyes. Look at the wall. Never right. Always wrong. But every year I’m fixing that a little bit. Why? Because now I’m responsible for my own happiness.
I refuse to stay a bad dad to [dog2].
No more blaming, just thinking and working. being confident. fighting back. defending mself. speaking out. Looking at people in the eye.
Yesterday you didn’t feel good. So I was the one who did something terrible for your birthday? Hmm. I was going to call just like Barry did. You’re sad about the gift? You feel like no one cares. Why is it that I’m the only one that got those texts. You think your message was going to create apologies and happy birthdays from me? No. I don’t think so. You just wanted me to feel bad. Because you felt bad. You like controlling me. And affecting my emotions.
It’s why I left home many years ago. And you still have old habits. You wanted me to feel bad. You did the same thing talking about the [old project] community a few years ago. When you don’t feel happy. You try to make me feel bad.
But I’m old enough to know now that I didn’t do anything to deserve that yesterday. And you’re not allowed to step on me like that anymore. I’m not some weak 21 year old that’s crying in the basement buying you cake. I told Annie not to call. Your negative behavior is not allowed in my life.
Every day I work to undo things from my past. You’ve stepped on me your whole life. Made me a very scared, very angry young man. People like that never make it in the world successfully. They have all kinds of problems. But I want this to be very clear. I am going to be successful. I am going to be a [retracted]. I am going to make a positive difference in this world for those who are positive to others. And It will be despite all that you’ve done to me. It will happen because I will surround myself with peace, and positivity. Not negativity and manipulation. Through peace and for others, I will work harder than you or abpa or anyone you have ever known has ever done in their entire lives.
But If I don’t make it, that’s on me. If I’m unhappy today, that’s on me. If I lack something today, that’s me. I have to choose to be better. I have to work harder. Cause I’m responsible for my happiness.
You can choose whether or not you want to be negative or positive person moving forward in my life. That’s your choice. You want to step on me? Try to bring me down when you feel down? That’s your choice. But it’s my choice whether or not to let you be in my life.
you being unhappy yesterday morning. That’s you. That’s your choice. Acting the way you did. trying to make your son feel bad. That’s all you. You’re responsible for your own happiness. I didn’t do anything yesterday to deserve your texts trying to pull me down.
This is my last text about this. This conversation is over. Say one more thing about this that doesn’t resemble an apology and I’m not going on the [family trip]. Keep telling me youre an “innocent victim” “all I wanted was a happy birthday text” and you won’t hear from me for years. Be responsible for your actions. I have no room for your negative emotional manipulation in my life.
Mom [7:14am] Annie…. Very first gift from her was well known brand toner. That gave me bad skin reaction so I had to throw it out. I don’t want to talk to her about it because I appreciated what she wanted to try. But next time when I saw her in las Vegas I told her that her sun screen lotion ( what she used at that time) gave me a bad reaction so I can not use it. Last year when Maggie gave her 화장품 (toiletry) as a birthday gift she said that thanks but she can not use it because she has allergic reactions. Which is understandable but she’s still doing same thing to me. I don’t know who mentioned about good reviews or you found out your self. That doesn’t mean it’s good for me. She and I didn’t talk that much anything so far only few subject. I feel like she doesn’t care. I don’t know why you guys decided to send gift more than a month before. And how you said she send me two gifts made me so upset.
Barry… Barry and I talked about our birthday on the phone last week how it was good at last year’s dinner. He planned but eventually Appa paid( I mentioned who paid because you don’t get wrong info. ) and the way he always said skipping one year is not end of the world. We laughed about it. And he said next time we gonna have a good time. He called at 5 pm on my birthday I know as soon as he woke up he called me.
You mentioned why Barry is ok. Did I scare him? Come on… he is not saying nice words all the time but he is very thoughtful person. I think you agree with this.
You… I really sorry that you have all bad memories about me and your youth. I can not go back and I can not fix it now. I’m thinking back that days if I can live again maybe react little differently like I treated Maggie. As a first child you had a lot bad experiences. I agreed. But don’t say your life was miserable because of ME all the time. If you think this way there’s no reason to see me. I’m really happy to see, hear and feel that you’re working hard, being healthy and having enjoyable life. I want you to be a healther, happier and more successful person than right now. That’s no matter why we talked about right now. But I really want to make a point that don’t say I had bad morning or bad night before that’s why text you like that. Maybe you’re right. I had bad night before. After talked on the phone with you (as I told you before ). I felt disappointed so much. You keep saying you felt bad because of my text, why I didn’t wait? Calling to me is part of your daily plan. You keep saying I made you feel bad because I had anger problems or bad days. You’ve never thought about “what did I do wrong or did I miss anything?” You said you away from me how can I buy dinner? Same as easy to buy on line ( by Amazon) any merchandise. There’s tons of way to offer , you can make a reservation any restaurant or even you can send money 100- 200 dollars. Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t think it’s going to hurt you financially. Last year I waited until last minute that Annie would text me any word. No. That didn’t happen. If I waited until you call this year what’s the difference? I want more than hearing your voice is too much. Sorry that I think that way. And not being adult I ordered Rolex watch for next years your birthday gift and I was so excited about it. Maybe that’s why I’m expecting more than what you’re in mind about me. You are right. That’s all my problems.
[7:45am] If you don’t want to come [familytrip] , don’t spend time with family I can not force you to come. But don’t say if I don’t apologize you don’t come. Is new way to threaten? Come on [my name]. This is really too much.
Me [10:02am] There’s a difference between threats and boundaries. No one is allowed to be in my life to spend their energy trying to bring me down. Who would do something like that? My own mother. No we aren’t going on the [trip]. (context: all the tickets and arrangements have been purchased, this isn't some cop out, it's non-refundable, nothing to do with money on anyone's side)
You want to continue the conversation after I said I was done? Actions and consequences: Annie and I are very unthoughtful and uncaring to give you a skin care gift again. I’ll tell her exactly what happened. I’ll have her read every message. And understand what we did wrong. I’ll make sure we feel terrible today. I’ll make sure she remembers it forever. I will make sure my wife cries for your sadness and for our mistakes. We’re a bad son/wife who don’t care about my mother’s birthday and mother’s day. Your message has been fully received. We will feel sorry, we will cry and we will feel bad for you. I will struggle to work for my job. I will struggle to do my projects, and teach my students, I will think all day and all night about how sad this is. About this conversation, about our gift, about your gifts, about the phone call, the texts, mother’s day, your birthday, my birthdays. last year your birthday when we were in [another country]. I will struggle to eat and sleep properly. I know Annie and how sensitive she is. She will struggle and cry too. Your son and his wife will feel terrible about your birthday. Your message will be successful. You’ve brought the world down around you. Congratulations. Just like old times. Everyone is sad now. "You’re right.”
I will say one last thing as your son: be careful about hurting the people around you when you have a bad day. If you keep tearing the world around you down, there isn’t going to be a world left.
You and I are not going in the same direction.
I’m trying to learn how to be positive, hardworking, successful, strong, encouraging and helping others. Trying to be a little more positive everyday. Maybe I will never get there. But I will try. You want to spend your time fixating on me saying “two gifts”. You want to spend your time staring at the boxes, and sending pictures. You want to spend your time comparing, looking at costs, pitying yourself and telling people around you how terrible they are on your birthday. I guess that drama is something you want. Not me. You and I are on different paths.
After Annie and I cry for what we did. My boundary is this, I will never let you do this to me again. That will be the last scar. We will remember every year on your birthday, and remind ourselves how terrible and uncaring we were. I will remember that you wanted me to know and feel that. Every year I will remember but that will be the last scar you ever leave on me. You should return the Rolex. I will never use it, I will never wear it, I will throw it out instantly. To me it’s a poisonous gift. Don’t ever give me or Annie any gifts for the rest of my life.
We will smile and not forget that those past gifts were given out of your care and thoughtfulness. We will remember you did your best and wanted to do nice things in your way. but we will be sad with you. And be unable to use your gifts because your gifts comes with weight, revenge and paybacks. And we cannot accept them. You did everything right. You’re a good mom. We are just bad people. We never earned them or paid you back in our thoughtfulness for them. All gifts you have given me and her, we will stop using today.
I will not be receiving your messages anymore. Goodbye
[Blocked from phone/all social media.]
AITAH. Reminder do not talk bad about anyone else. I'll delete those comments. This is just about whether or not I did the right thing.
submitted by CleanElk3560 to AITAH [link] [comments]
Save your judgment for me. Context: I'm 35M. first born. I left home after a huge fight with my mom after college. I was homeless for a bit. We've since reconciled. But I suppose not anymore. There's history there.
I'm only posting to see if what I did was wrong.
All names have been replaced and are not real. Other details like dates and places that are personally identifiable will be removed/changed. There are two languages: I will always show the original and translate as fairly as I can.
It is relevant for fairness to share that my mom is 3 hours ahead of me. I'm west coast, she's east coast. (10am for me it's 1pm for her) My time will be shown in the messages.
I will keep all messages exact and unedited, outside of the above.
I repeat: DO NOT INSULT MY MOM OR WIFE OR FAMILY. am I the asshole. nothing about them. just me.
On Mom's Birthday:
Mom [10:43am] it's mom's birthday but nothing is here (original: 엄마 생일인데 아무것도 없어.) [10:52am] [Picture of kitchen island with boxed tonesunscreen on it] [10:53am] (Mom is/I am) really sad. This is what Annie sent me for a gift. $10-20 toiletries. Something I don't even use. (original: 엄마 많이 섭섭해. 이게 [name]가 보낸 선물이야. $10-20 짜리 화장품. 엄마 이거 쓰지도 않는데.)
Me [11:51am] She got the same thing she got for you and her mom. Throw it out and I'll make sure to buy something nicer for you.
Mom [12:03pm] If she or her mom got the thing then I should get the same thing. I'm not Annie or Annie's mom. I'm your mom. You shouldn't treat me like this. [12:07pm] Not even one happy birthday said. (original: 생일 축하한단 말 한마디 없이.)
Me [12:56pm] call (no answer) [1:11pm] call (no answer)
Next day:
Mom [5:10am] I didn't answer the phone yesterday because I felt like I'm crying. I don’t want to talk like that with you. When you got married Annie I tried to treat her as an our family member. I know I can not treat her same as Maggie (my sister). But last year she didn’t say any word on my birthday. Even you and I talked on the phone. I didn’t want so much from her just as a family say good word on birthday wishes. This year same thing. And you, when you asked me what can I do for you ( maybe you forgot that even you asked) I literally said “다른거 필요 없고 무슨날 엄마 밥이나 사줘” (translation: I don't need anything just buy me some dinner some time) I’m not asking you expensive things. Don’t say throw them out but nicer things. You really missed the point.
Me [11:28am] You were upset because I didn’t do something for your birthday by 1040am on a Workday. It’s not about expensive things but you want to text a picture of the gift and say it’s $10-20. You got a gift, but no card. It’s cheap but it’s not about money. Annie’s a family member, how could she not text. Right after she texted happy mother’s day to you. Yesterday before dinner, Annie tells me “make sure you call your mom it’s her birthday”. I didn’t tell her what happened because I don’t gossip and talk bad about people behind their back. I call or text and wish a happy birthday to family. Like I’ve done every year. It’s the same as what everyone does for me. Sometimes I don’t get a call. Sometimes I don’t get a text. Sometimes the call/text comes a day later. Never did I text my family members in the morning asking why people didn’t do more for me. I’ll make sure to let Annie know about wishing happy birthday to you. In my screenshot is my daily goals from yesterday, I was excited about this week. One of those things was, of course, calling you for your birthday, just like I called for mother’s day. Two hours later while I’m in a work meeting with my boss, 1040am, I get a text from you telling me about how sad you are from my wife’s cheap gift and how I haven’t said happy birthday yet. Yesterday I woke up and went to work, and planned to call you after. You have a habit of disproportionately trying to make me feel bad. You’ve done it on your birthday before many years ago after you and abpa[dad in korean] had a fight. I was a college student and you took it out on me cause I was the easy target. You’re an adult. Your child can call later in the day to wish you a happy birthday. It’s not okay to text trying to make your son feel bad about not doing something sooner. [11:29am] [Screenshot of whatsapp conversation between me and my virtual assistant] [Screenshot start] [8:13am yesterday] Goals for Today, I want to be disciplined. It’s been a few weeks now since my conference and because of the conference and drinking there, I became slow and lost the energy to stay on top of my diet/exercise and morning routines that I was so happy and proud of. Let’s get back to that this week. Let’s work hard, let’s continue to set sights on big goals. I want to work on the 3 projects I have going right now. [personal project 1 company idea], [personal project 2 company idea], and [current company].
Today I will exercise 25 situps, 25 pushups, 25 curls, 25 shoulder press, and 25 squats. Today I will finish a few [work things] for [company]. Today I will teach class for [project 2] finish [lesson], and let folks know that there will not be class on wednesday. I will call my mom later today and wish her a happy birthday. I will also be going to my brother’s to take care of credit card points so that we can buy tickets for [trip], let’s work hard today and get a lot done. [Screenshot end]
Mom [4:09pm] My birthday is passed last year and this year. She didn’t text or say anything these two years. You may think that’s ok but not for me. I just expect to acknowledge these days and congrat each other. Is that too much? I don’t expect anything from her. But you mentioned so proudly on Sunday that Annie send me TWO gifts. I just want you to know I’m very disappointed that you are ok with that gifts. That’s why I mentioned the price as well. My birthday and Mother’s Day are always near by. Sometimes same day or sometimes few day apart. Is that too much that I asked you more thoughtful gift from you? If you think that’s too much , forget about this conversation. I think I’ve never treated you like this.
Me [2:03am] You’ve treated me way worse in my life. You didn’t wait for a text. You wanted to text me to make me feel bad. You had a bad morning. Maybe a bad night. You didn’t feel like I cared or people cared. Or maybe something else happened. And you wanted me to feel bad.
But your happiness is not my responsibility.
Your birthday is not a free pass to send guilt tripping texts to me and expect nice texts back. Annie sent you poison? She sent you a 4.5 star tonesunscreen with thousands of nice reviews. She was just trying to send something nice. It’s not expensive. But you say it’s not about money? Then why are you crying about it?
No one said “happy birthday” yet? The day wasn’t over. Why text me only? Barry[My brother] didn’t call until 5pm.
No one else gave you a good gift? Or are you comparing it with gifts that you’ve given to Annie? Then you give revenge-gifts. If that’s it then don’t ever give Annie and I anything ever again. You just wanted a dinner? I’m on the other side of the country.
Should I text you on my birthday asking why my mailbox is empty? Should I ask abpa[dad] the last 20 years where’s my present? Should I try and make you or abpa feel bad on my birthday if I’m unhappy? No, of course not. None of those is how a mature person behaves. Because my happiness is not your responsibility.
“Just want a text to acknowledge and congratulate”. You didn’t wait for any text. You chose to start upset.
Why didn’t you text Barry? if it’s just the text of happy birthday? You scared of his response?
I know why you’re not scared of me. 5 years of therapy to learn the way you used me as an emotional punching bag.
Your birthday morning wasn’t the way you wanted. Your gift wasn’t the way you wanted. You didn’t feel like anyone cared. Whoever you talked to. Whatever happened. You were unhappy. So you sent those texts to me.
You try to make me feel bad when you’re unhappy with your life. Why? When you used to have a hard day at work. Bad [customer]. Bad traffic. Bad interaction with coworkers/boss. Bad talk with abpa[dad], grandma, Frank hyung(older cousin who lived with us). Who do you think received your anger for no fucking reason? If I did all my homework, played [instrument 1], practiced [instrument 2], got good grades, did all my kumon(after school homework) did you know it doesn’t matter what I did, if YOU had a bad day?
If I’m watching tv, or playing a game, if you have a bad day, then my day has to be a bad day. Because people around you can’t be happy when you’re miserable. Not people that you can control. And controlling me was all you had. Even as I got older. Not allowed to leave the house.
You couldn’t control the language or culture out of the house, you couldn’t control grandma, frank hyung, or abpa in the house. your whole life, you couldn’t control too much.
So you controlled what? me. a kid. And as soon as hitting me didn’t make me cry you just tried to control my emotions to make me cry.
2010 May [day retracted]. Fight with abpa in the morning, he leaves the house. So you go down to the basement to yell at your son for not getting you a cake.
Junior in college crying, guilty in the basement buying you cake. That’s what you wanted. Someone you controlled. Someone to be miserable because you were miserable.
5 years of therapy in my late 20s to learn you’re the reason I don’t notice when women step all over me. I grew up used to it. Bad women relationships, weak sense of self, emotional abuse, angry all the time. Parents like you made Asian Americans the least likely to become managers in the USA (context: I became one in my later 20s). No confidence. No inner strength. Just quiet private anger. A young man clenching his fists, holding his tongue, and listening to orders.
Constantly blame others, blame myself. Always angry. Always yelling at [dog1]/[dog2], always trying to control them when I’m upset. Critical of everything, everyone, myself, never feeling like I’m enough or okay. Because growing up I was constantly on the receiving end of anger that I didn’t create. Don’t talk back. Don’t look at the eyes. Look at the wall. Never right. Always wrong. But every year I’m fixing that a little bit. Why? Because now I’m responsible for my own happiness.
I refuse to stay a bad dad to [dog2].
No more blaming, just thinking and working. being confident. fighting back. defending mself. speaking out. Looking at people in the eye.
Yesterday you didn’t feel good. So I was the one who did something terrible for your birthday? Hmm. I was going to call just like Barry did. You’re sad about the gift? You feel like no one cares. Why is it that I’m the only one that got those texts. You think your message was going to create apologies and happy birthdays from me? No. I don’t think so. You just wanted me to feel bad. Because you felt bad. You like controlling me. And affecting my emotions.
It’s why I left home many years ago. And you still have old habits. You wanted me to feel bad. You did the same thing talking about the [old project] community a few years ago. When you don’t feel happy. You try to make me feel bad.
But I’m old enough to know now that I didn’t do anything to deserve that yesterday. And you’re not allowed to step on me like that anymore. I’m not some weak 21 year old that’s crying in the basement buying you cake. I told Annie not to call. Your negative behavior is not allowed in my life.
Every day I work to undo things from my past. You’ve stepped on me your whole life. Made me a very scared, very angry young man. People like that never make it in the world successfully. They have all kinds of problems. But I want this to be very clear. I am going to be successful. I am going to be a [retracted]. I am going to make a positive difference in this world for those who are positive to others. And It will be despite all that you’ve done to me. It will happen because I will surround myself with peace, and positivity. Not negativity and manipulation. Through peace and for others, I will work harder than you or abpa or anyone you have ever known has ever done in their entire lives.
But If I don’t make it, that’s on me. If I’m unhappy today, that’s on me. If I lack something today, that’s me. I have to choose to be better. I have to work harder. Cause I’m responsible for my happiness.
You can choose whether or not you want to be negative or positive person moving forward in my life. That’s your choice. You want to step on me? Try to bring me down when you feel down? That’s your choice. But it’s my choice whether or not to let you be in my life.
you being unhappy yesterday morning. That’s you. That’s your choice. Acting the way you did. trying to make your son feel bad. That’s all you. You’re responsible for your own happiness. I didn’t do anything yesterday to deserve your texts trying to pull me down.
This is my last text about this. This conversation is over. Say one more thing about this that doesn’t resemble an apology and I’m not going on the [family trip]. Keep telling me youre an “innocent victim” “all I wanted was a happy birthday text” and you won’t hear from me for years. Be responsible for your actions. I have no room for your negative emotional manipulation in my life.
Mom [7:14am] Annie…. Very first gift from her was well known brand toner. That gave me bad skin reaction so I had to throw it out. I don’t want to talk to her about it because I appreciated what she wanted to try. But next time when I saw her in las Vegas I told her that her sun screen lotion ( what she used at that time) gave me a bad reaction so I can not use it. Last year when Maggie gave her 화장품 (toiletry) as a birthday gift she said that thanks but she can not use it because she has allergic reactions. Which is understandable but she’s still doing same thing to me. I don’t know who mentioned about good reviews or you found out your self. That doesn’t mean it’s good for me. She and I didn’t talk that much anything so far only few subject. I feel like she doesn’t care. I don’t know why you guys decided to send gift more than a month before. And how you said she send me two gifts made me so upset.
Barry… Barry and I talked about our birthday on the phone last week how it was good at last year’s dinner. He planned but eventually Appa paid( I mentioned who paid because you don’t get wrong info. ) and the way he always said skipping one year is not end of the world. We laughed about it. And he said next time we gonna have a good time. He called at 5 pm on my birthday I know as soon as he woke up he called me.
You mentioned why Barry is ok. Did I scare him? Come on… he is not saying nice words all the time but he is very thoughtful person. I think you agree with this.
You… I really sorry that you have all bad memories about me and your youth. I can not go back and I can not fix it now. I’m thinking back that days if I can live again maybe react little differently like I treated Maggie. As a first child you had a lot bad experiences. I agreed. But don’t say your life was miserable because of ME all the time. If you think this way there’s no reason to see me. I’m really happy to see, hear and feel that you’re working hard, being healthy and having enjoyable life. I want you to be a healther, happier and more successful person than right now. That’s no matter why we talked about right now. But I really want to make a point that don’t say I had bad morning or bad night before that’s why text you like that. Maybe you’re right. I had bad night before. After talked on the phone with you (as I told you before ). I felt disappointed so much. You keep saying you felt bad because of my text, why I didn’t wait? Calling to me is part of your daily plan. You keep saying I made you feel bad because I had anger problems or bad days. You’ve never thought about “what did I do wrong or did I miss anything?” You said you away from me how can I buy dinner? Same as easy to buy on line ( by Amazon) any merchandise. There’s tons of way to offer , you can make a reservation any restaurant or even you can send money 100- 200 dollars. Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t think it’s going to hurt you financially. Last year I waited until last minute that Annie would text me any word. No. That didn’t happen. If I waited until you call this year what’s the difference? I want more than hearing your voice is too much. Sorry that I think that way. And not being adult I ordered Rolex watch for next years your birthday gift and I was so excited about it. Maybe that’s why I’m expecting more than what you’re in mind about me. You are right. That’s all my problems.
[7:45am] If you don’t want to come [familytrip] , don’t spend time with family I can not force you to come. But don’t say if I don’t apologize you don’t come. Is new way to threaten? Come on [my name]. This is really too much.
Me [10:02am] There’s a difference between threats and boundaries. No one is allowed to be in my life to spend their energy trying to bring me down. Who would do something like that? My own mother. No we aren’t going on the [trip]. (context: all the tickets and arrangements have been purchased, this isn't some cop out, it's non-refundable, nothing to do with money on anyone's side)
You want to continue the conversation after I said I was done? Actions and consequences: Annie and I are very unthoughtful and uncaring to give you a skin care gift again. I’ll tell her exactly what happened. I’ll have her read every message. And understand what we did wrong. I’ll make sure we feel terrible today. I’ll make sure she remembers it forever. I will make sure my wife cries for your sadness and for our mistakes. We’re a bad son/wife who don’t care about my mother’s birthday and mother’s day. Your message has been fully received. We will feel sorry, we will cry and we will feel bad for you. I will struggle to work for my job. I will struggle to do my projects, and teach my students, I will think all day and all night about how sad this is. About this conversation, about our gift, about your gifts, about the phone call, the texts, mother’s day, your birthday, my birthdays. last year your birthday when we were in [another country]. I will struggle to eat and sleep properly. I know Annie and how sensitive she is. She will struggle and cry too. Your son and his wife will feel terrible about your birthday. Your message will be successful. You’ve brought the world down around you. Congratulations. Just like old times. Everyone is sad now. "You’re right.”
I will say one last thing as your son: be careful about hurting the people around you when you have a bad day. If you keep tearing the world around you down, there isn’t going to be a world left.
You and I are not going in the same direction.
I’m trying to learn how to be positive, hardworking, successful, strong, encouraging and helping others. Trying to be a little more positive everyday. Maybe I will never get there. But I will try. You want to spend your time fixating on me saying “two gifts”. You want to spend your time staring at the boxes, and sending pictures. You want to spend your time comparing, looking at costs, pitying yourself and telling people around you how terrible they are on your birthday. I guess that drama is something you want. Not me. You and I are on different paths.
After Annie and I cry for what we did. My boundary is this, I will never let you do this to me again. That will be the last scar. We will remember every year on your birthday, and remind ourselves how terrible and uncaring we were. I will remember that you wanted me to know and feel that. Every year I will remember but that will be the last scar you ever leave on me. You should return the Rolex. I will never use it, I will never wear it, I will throw it out instantly. To me it’s a poisonous gift. Don’t ever give me or Annie any gifts for the rest of my life.
We will smile and not forget that those past gifts were given out of your care and thoughtfulness. We will remember you did your best and wanted to do nice things in your way. but we will be sad with you. And be unable to use your gifts because your gifts comes with weight, revenge and paybacks. And we cannot accept them. You did everything right. You’re a good mom. We are just bad people. We never earned them or paid you back in our thoughtfulness for them. All gifts you have given me and her, we will stop using today.
I will not be receiving your messages anymore. Goodbye
[Blocked from phone/all social media.]
AITAH. Reminder do not talk bad about anyone else. I'll delete those comments. This is just about whether or not I did the right thing.
2024.05.15 23:04 stubborn_dwarf Can I simplify these if statements? (Going between pages with mouseX, mouseY & mousePressed)
I have a lot of if statements, directing pages to other pages depending on where the mouse is clicked. Is there a way I can simplify these? I feel like copy and pasting 6 lines per page is unnecessary but I'm fairly new to processing. (Apologies, this is a long one).
To make this post shorter, I am only including 4 blocks of code excluding void draw:
int page = 0;
submitted by stubborn_dwarf to processing [link] [comments]
/******************** Project Title: Character Selection Description: Based off of World of Warcraft's Character Creation. ********************/I removed my void setup code because I'm not sure it's applicable. As well as all my PImage commands.
To make this post shorter, I am only including 4 blocks of code excluding void draw:
- Alliance Body 1 Blank
- Alliance Body 2 Blank
- & an example of a page belonging to both Body 1 & Body 2
int page = 0;
void draw() { println(mouseX, mouseY); if (page == 0) { background(bg[0]); fill(255, 150); textSize(34); text("Based off World of Warcraft", width/2, 24); fill(255); textSize(80); text("Character Selection", width/2, 75); textSize(54); text("Choose your Faction", width/2, 634); //********************ALLIANCE BUTTON POPMATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 152 && mouseX < 250) &&( mouseY > 700 && mouseY < 800)) { fill(54, 116, 255); textSize(50); text("Alliance", 200, 840); } textSize(160); text("]", 200, 765); // alliance symbol pop(); //********************END: ALLIANCE BUTTON POPMATRIX******************** //********************HORDE BUTTON POPMATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 350 && mouseX < 444) && ( mouseY > 700 && mouseY < 800)) { fill(255, 0, 0); textSize(50); text("Horde", 400, 840); } textSize(160); text("[", 400, 765); // horde symbol pop(); //********************END: HORDE BUTTON POPMATRIX******************** }// End: PAGE 0 //**************************ALLIANCE BODY TYPE 1 BLANK (PAGE 1)************************ if (page == 1) {//Alliance Body Type 1 background(bg[1]); textSize(140); fill(255, 140); text("]", 535, 70); // alliance symbol //********************BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 10 && mouseY < 80)) { fill(200); } if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 0 && mouseY < 80) && mousePressed) { page = 0; } fill(255); textSize(50); text("< Back", 90, 40); pop(); //********************END: BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** image(body[1], 250, 100); image(body[2], 350, 100); image(raceAM[0], 75, 250); image(raceAM[1], 75, 350); image(raceAM[2], 75, 450); image(raceAM[3], 75, 550); image(raceAM[4], 75, 650); image(raceAM[5], 75, 750); if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 210 && mouseY < 285)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Draenei", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Dwarf", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Gnome", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Human", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Night Elf", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Worgen", 295, 165); } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 210 && mouseY < 285) && mousePressed)) { page = 3;//DRAENEI M (PAGE 3) } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385) && mousePressed)) { page = 4;//DWARF M (PAGE 4) } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485) && mousePressed)) { page = 5;//GNOME M (PAGE 5) } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585) && mousePressed)) { page = 6;//HUMAN M (PAGE 6) } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685) && mousePressed)) { page = 7;//NIGHT ELF M (PAGE 7) } if ((page == 1 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785) && mousePressed)) { page = 8;//WORGEN M (PAGE 8) } }//End: PAGE 1 //*****************************DRAENEI BODY TYPE 1 (PAGE 3)********************** if (page == 3) { background(bg[1]); textSize(140); fill(255, 140); text("]", 535, 70); // alliance symbol fill(255); textSize(60); text("Draenei", 295, 165); //********************BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 10 && mouseY < 80)) { fill(200); } if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 0 && mouseY < 80) && mousePressed) { page = 0; } fill(255); textSize(50); text("< Back", 90, 40); pop(); //********************END: BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** image(picAM[0], width/2, 600); image(body[1], 250, 100); image(body[2], 350, 100); image(raceAM[0], 75, 250); image(raceAM[1], 75, 350); image(raceAM[2], 75, 450); image(raceAM[3], 75, 550); image(raceAM[4], 75, 650); image(raceAM[5], 75, 750); if ((page == 3 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385) && mousePressed)) { page = 4;//DWARF M (PAGE 4) } if ((page == 3 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485) && mousePressed)) { page = 5;//GNOME M (PAGE 5) } if ((page == 3 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585) && mousePressed)) { page = 6;//HUMAN M (PAGE 6) } if ((page == 3 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685) && mousePressed)) { page = 7;//NIGHT ELF M (PAGE 7) } if ((page == 3 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785) && mousePressed)) { page = 8;//WORGEN M (PAGE 8) } }//End: PAGE 3 //*************************ALLIANCE BODY TYPE 2 BLANK (PAGE 2)**************************** if (page == 2) { background(bg[1]); textSize(140); fill(255, 140); text("]", 535, 70); // alliance symbol //********************BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 10 && mouseY < 80)) { fill(200); } if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 0 && mouseY < 80) && mousePressed) { page = 0; } fill(255); textSize(50); text("< Back", 90, 40); pop(); //********************END: BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** image(body[0], 248, 101); image(body[3], 350, 100); image(raceAF[0], 75, 250); image(raceAF[1], 75, 350); image(raceAF[2], 75, 450); image(raceAF[3], 75, 550); image(raceAF[4], 75, 650); image(raceAF[5], 75, 750); if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 210 && mouseY < 285)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Draenei", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Dwarf", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Gnome", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Human", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Night Elf", 295, 165); } if ((mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785)) { fill(255); textSize(60); text("Worgen", 295, 165); } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 210 && mouseY < 285) && mousePressed)) { page = 9;//DRAENEI F (PAGE 9) } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385) && mousePressed)) { page = 10;//DWARF F (PAGE 10) } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485) && mousePressed)) { page = 11;//GNOME F (PAGE 11) } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585) && mousePressed)) { page = 12;//HUMAN F (PAGE 12) } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685) && mousePressed)) { page = 13;//NIGHT ELF F (PAGE 13) } if ((page == 2 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785) && mousePressed)) { page = 14;//WORGEN F (PAGE 14) } }//End: PAGE 2 //*********************DRAENEI BODY TYPE 2 (PAGE 9)*************************** if (page == 9) { background(bg[1]); textSize(140); fill(255, 140); text("]", 535, 70); // alliance symbol fill(255); textSize(60); text("Draenei", 295, 165); //********************BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** push(); if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 10 && mouseY < 80)) { fill(200); } if ((mouseX > 25 && mouseX < 150) && ( mouseY > 0 && mouseY < 80) && mousePressed) { page = 0; } fill(255); textSize(50); text("< Back", 90, 40); pop(); //********************END: BACK BUTTON POP MATRIX******************** image(picAF[0], width/2, 600); image(body[0], 248, 101); image(body[3], 350, 100); image(raceAF[0], 75, 250); image(raceAF[1], 75, 350); image(raceAF[2], 75, 450); image(raceAF[3], 75, 550); image(raceAF[4], 75, 650); image(raceAF[5], 75, 750); if ((page == 9 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 310 && mouseY < 385) && mousePressed)) { page = 10;//DWARF F (PAGE 10) } if ((page == 9 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 410 && mouseY < 485) && mousePressed)) { page = 11;//GNOME F (PAGE 11) } if ((page == 9 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 510 && mouseY < 585) && mousePressed)) { page = 12;//HUMAN F (PAGE 12) } if ((page == 9 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 610 && mouseY < 685) && mousePressed)) { page = 13;//NIGHT ELF F (PAGE 13) } if ((page == 9 && (mouseX > 35 && mouseX < 115) && ( mouseY > 710 && mouseY < 785) && mousePressed)) { page = 14;//WORGEN F (PAGE 14) } }//End: PAGE 9 //***********************END OF ALLIANCE BODY TYPES************************** }//void draw//******************************************************************************************** void mousePressed() { if (page == 0 && (mouseX > 152 && mouseX < 250) && ( mouseY > 700 && mouseY < 800)) { page = 1;//alliance faction page } else if (page == 0 && (mouseX > 350 && mouseX < 444) && ( mouseY > 700 && mouseY < 800)) { page = 15;//horde faction page } //******************** IF STATEMENTS TO FOR ALLIANCE BODY 2******************** else if (page == 1 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 3 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 4 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 5 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 6 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 7 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } else if (page == 8 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 2; } //********************END: IF STATEMENTS TO FOR ALLIANCE BODY 2******************** //********************IF STATEMENTS TO FOR ALLIANCE BODY 1******************** else if (page == 2 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 9 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 10 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 11 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 12 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 13 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } else if (page == 14 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 1; } //********************END: IF STATEMENTS TO FOR ALLIANCE BODY 1******************** //******************** IF STATEMENTS TO FOR HORDE BODY 2******************** else if (page == 15 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } else if (page == 17 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } else if (page == 18 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } else if (page == 19 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } else if (page == 20 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } else if (page == 21 && (mouseX > 315 && mouseX < 380) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 16; } //********************END: IF STATEMENTS TO FOR HORDE BODY 2******************** //********************IF STATEMENTS TO FOR HORDE BODY 1******************** else if (page == 22 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 23 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 24 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 25 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 26 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 27 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } else if (page == 28 && (mouseX > 215 && mouseX < 280) && ( mouseY > 65 && mouseY < 130)) { page = 15; } //********************END: IF STATEMENTS TO FOR HORDE BODY 1******************** }//void mousePressed 2024.05.15 23:01 Key-Bit51 AITA for wanting help with cleaning?
Quick context I'm breastfeeding, I'm currently sick with mastitis. We have 4 kids 12, 8, 3 and 6m. Yes we're done having kids. I have baby fever with a 6m old. Husband works all day on concrete with bad knees. As in they need to be replaced. I'm currently trying to throw a birthday party for my older kids on the cheap because their birthdays are in the middle of winter and house is small. Pizza parties are about $100-$150ea and at home $75 for both kids. I have tried talking to him about doing something during their birth months but we were tight. The following is our conversation.
Wife, This party is very important to the kids.
I'm going to need your help. I'm so exhausted from being sick and trying to get son to help is like fighting a monkey for the last banana. I need help cleaning
Husband, This is more important to than the kids hun stop lying to yourself and others. This is more for you than the kids. I was 100% not for it. I help but, for fuck sake I'm not f******g happy about it.
Wife, I'm doing it for them! Why would it be for me? Parents drop off and pretty much run. Nvm forget I asked.
Husband, Wife no one does this
Wife, Does what? Throw a birthday party for their kids because they love them and can't afford a d*** pizza party on the month of their birthdays.
Husband, I never had giant extravagant birthdays. I had family that was it. This concept of kids missing out on things, I don't understand what they are missing out on. They have so much more than I did at their age. NO ITS NOT THEIR D*** BIRTHDAY! It's no one's birthday. We could have done something on there birthday. Never had a problem when we had 2 extra kids over.
Wife, It's not extravagant. Food, cake. pretty much it and play outside. Fine you invite six children exactly like son (very adhd) and try to throw that inside the house no. I just need help cleaning stuff.That should already be done but nobody cares. On the maid of a f****** house.If i'm not doing it nobody else is. I should never even laid in bed on mother's day. I expected too much of everybody. I'm done asking for help drop it. Okay try that with her two friends plus six more. Too much too many people. Literally hamburgers hot dogs and a cake couple of hours. Going all out would've been 100%.Decorations would have been ice cream on top of that would have been me renting a bounce house or something, no. I'm not going all out. I guess what things cleaned up and I can't do anything.I'm sick. I can't get this house cleaned because i'm sick. Now I feel like the bad person for just wanting to clean house. What's the point of having a house and nobody will keep it cleanish. What's the point of cooking dinner? Nobody's gonna eat it.I don't bother coming over pissed off go to tyler'sI'm done. I won't ask you for anything anymore
Husband, Fine wife I will here and work there. I will work till you are happy. You want another kid? Sure let's do it. I'll get a second job to support them all I will not see you ever because I will be sleeping in car after I clean the house.
Wife, I already said don't bother. I'm done asking you for help.
Husband, Wife you make shit more harder on your self than you think then blame it on me or kids. You have more time sitting and laying down than anyone else in that house. Yes you feel like s, WE all feel like s even at work everyone is f**g miserable from allergies and heat. I will help you get s done at home, bit don't think for second that you are god damn Cinderella and I'm the evil step mother. If that's how you want it you get a job and I will be the maid at home. You always make me feel guilty about leaving you everyday to work while you get to stay home. Then say that I make you feel guilty for not doing enough around the house.
Wife, I don't sit on my ass all day long. Breastfeeding, waiting till kids go off to school while I drink my coffee and sometimes trying to get toddler to take his naps. Also, my mind will never function like yours. It's 10x harder for me to do these never-ending chores daily. But yet nobody will lift a finger to help me when I'm sick. You know damn well I'd go to work at the mill if they would allow it. I'd bag all day if I had to. If I do get a job it would only to pay for child care, medical, and food. That's if I'm lucky to make enough to cover all that. Yes I want you home all the time but that isn't going to happen I'm sorry for making you feel guilty for having to go to work. I just don't want to end up like mom and I don't want the house to look like a hoarder lives here. Yes mess is to be expected. I'm not asking for much but everyone makes seem like I am. Everyone lives here not just me.
Husband, I didn't say you do all day. I said out of everyone in the house you do the most.
Wife, Not that I want to either
Husband, Also, I help you quite alot when you sick and in general. But I guys it's just small potatoes to you.
Wife, What I see so you know and inform me what I miss. Mom's asleep leave her alone Mom not feeling good just change their diaper Here's some water Rub my feet or legs occasionally (thank you) Made me cup of coffee Take the trash out on trash day Changing kids diapers What am I missing?
Husband, Wow ok nevermind I'm human garbage. Besides working to pay off everything and buying you and the kids s***, paying bills. I don't do anything.
Wife, I'm not talking work. I'm talking when I'm down and can't do things
Husband, Well you don't communicate worth a s*** for to know what you want or what needs to be done. Just what ever wife.
Wife, You see the mess Dirty counters Sink full of dishes Laundry piling up Dog hair all over the floors Dirty bathrooms It's right there. This it's your home too. Thought you would want it kept to a certain level of clean. Guess we don't think alike on what needs to stay clean or what can be somewhat messy.
Husband, For years I was the only one who did that in a house of 4 adults and I never got help. Praised for cleaning so well that your dad would get sick from eating off them. I was the only one who would clean and now that it's been 15 years roughly I'm the complete ass. I'm the only one who brings home an income. I buy you pretty much anything you want or need. There is sooo much more I can say wife. This is not 50/50 like you want it to be this is 80/20 you don't have much do to at home. YOU SIT AND LET IT PILE UP TILL ITS A PROBLEM. I will be home later and I will do everything. If life is so bad what would you do if I was gone tomorrow? You don't put 8 hrs a day into anything and you spout out that it's not fair that I don't do more. You can give me all the excuses you want, I'm adhd, I can't focus, I need to start as a routine or I can't do it. You did just fine when my mom would yell at you and now she's gone it's my fault pretty much all the time. I'm ending this conversation here. Do not text me for the rest of the day. I will be home at 4:50 after getting dog food and I will stay up till the whole damn house is done to your standards.
Wife, Don't bother I said.You yell at me for not asking for help and now when I do all I get is f*****g attitude. Just go sleep at friend or something. AITA?
submitted by Key-Bit51 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
Wife, This party is very important to the kids.
I'm going to need your help. I'm so exhausted from being sick and trying to get son to help is like fighting a monkey for the last banana. I need help cleaning
Husband, This is more important to than the kids hun stop lying to yourself and others. This is more for you than the kids. I was 100% not for it. I help but, for fuck sake I'm not f******g happy about it.
Wife, I'm doing it for them! Why would it be for me? Parents drop off and pretty much run. Nvm forget I asked.
Husband, Wife no one does this
Wife, Does what? Throw a birthday party for their kids because they love them and can't afford a d*** pizza party on the month of their birthdays.
Husband, I never had giant extravagant birthdays. I had family that was it. This concept of kids missing out on things, I don't understand what they are missing out on. They have so much more than I did at their age. NO ITS NOT THEIR D*** BIRTHDAY! It's no one's birthday. We could have done something on there birthday. Never had a problem when we had 2 extra kids over.
Wife, It's not extravagant. Food, cake. pretty much it and play outside. Fine you invite six children exactly like son (very adhd) and try to throw that inside the house no. I just need help cleaning stuff.That should already be done but nobody cares. On the maid of a f****** house.If i'm not doing it nobody else is. I should never even laid in bed on mother's day. I expected too much of everybody. I'm done asking for help drop it. Okay try that with her two friends plus six more. Too much too many people. Literally hamburgers hot dogs and a cake couple of hours. Going all out would've been 100%.Decorations would have been ice cream on top of that would have been me renting a bounce house or something, no. I'm not going all out. I guess what things cleaned up and I can't do anything.I'm sick. I can't get this house cleaned because i'm sick. Now I feel like the bad person for just wanting to clean house. What's the point of having a house and nobody will keep it cleanish. What's the point of cooking dinner? Nobody's gonna eat it.I don't bother coming over pissed off go to tyler'sI'm done. I won't ask you for anything anymore
Husband, Fine wife I will here and work there. I will work till you are happy. You want another kid? Sure let's do it. I'll get a second job to support them all I will not see you ever because I will be sleeping in car after I clean the house.
Wife, I already said don't bother. I'm done asking you for help.
Husband, Wife you make shit more harder on your self than you think then blame it on me or kids. You have more time sitting and laying down than anyone else in that house. Yes you feel like s, WE all feel like s even at work everyone is f**g miserable from allergies and heat. I will help you get s done at home, bit don't think for second that you are god damn Cinderella and I'm the evil step mother. If that's how you want it you get a job and I will be the maid at home. You always make me feel guilty about leaving you everyday to work while you get to stay home. Then say that I make you feel guilty for not doing enough around the house.
Wife, I don't sit on my ass all day long. Breastfeeding, waiting till kids go off to school while I drink my coffee and sometimes trying to get toddler to take his naps. Also, my mind will never function like yours. It's 10x harder for me to do these never-ending chores daily. But yet nobody will lift a finger to help me when I'm sick. You know damn well I'd go to work at the mill if they would allow it. I'd bag all day if I had to. If I do get a job it would only to pay for child care, medical, and food. That's if I'm lucky to make enough to cover all that. Yes I want you home all the time but that isn't going to happen I'm sorry for making you feel guilty for having to go to work. I just don't want to end up like mom and I don't want the house to look like a hoarder lives here. Yes mess is to be expected. I'm not asking for much but everyone makes seem like I am. Everyone lives here not just me.
Husband, I didn't say you do all day. I said out of everyone in the house you do the most.
Wife, Not that I want to either
Husband, Also, I help you quite alot when you sick and in general. But I guys it's just small potatoes to you.
Wife, What I see so you know and inform me what I miss. Mom's asleep leave her alone Mom not feeling good just change their diaper Here's some water Rub my feet or legs occasionally (thank you) Made me cup of coffee Take the trash out on trash day Changing kids diapers What am I missing?
Husband, Wow ok nevermind I'm human garbage. Besides working to pay off everything and buying you and the kids s***, paying bills. I don't do anything.
Wife, I'm not talking work. I'm talking when I'm down and can't do things
Husband, Well you don't communicate worth a s*** for to know what you want or what needs to be done. Just what ever wife.
Wife, You see the mess Dirty counters Sink full of dishes Laundry piling up Dog hair all over the floors Dirty bathrooms It's right there. This it's your home too. Thought you would want it kept to a certain level of clean. Guess we don't think alike on what needs to stay clean or what can be somewhat messy.
Husband, For years I was the only one who did that in a house of 4 adults and I never got help. Praised for cleaning so well that your dad would get sick from eating off them. I was the only one who would clean and now that it's been 15 years roughly I'm the complete ass. I'm the only one who brings home an income. I buy you pretty much anything you want or need. There is sooo much more I can say wife. This is not 50/50 like you want it to be this is 80/20 you don't have much do to at home. YOU SIT AND LET IT PILE UP TILL ITS A PROBLEM. I will be home later and I will do everything. If life is so bad what would you do if I was gone tomorrow? You don't put 8 hrs a day into anything and you spout out that it's not fair that I don't do more. You can give me all the excuses you want, I'm adhd, I can't focus, I need to start as a routine or I can't do it. You did just fine when my mom would yell at you and now she's gone it's my fault pretty much all the time. I'm ending this conversation here. Do not text me for the rest of the day. I will be home at 4:50 after getting dog food and I will stay up till the whole damn house is done to your standards.
Wife, Don't bother I said.You yell at me for not asking for help and now when I do all I get is f*****g attitude. Just go sleep at friend or something. AITA?
2024.05.15 22:49 EmbarrassedWeeb3614 Question about CRT tuning
 | I picked up a Sony Trinitron KV 1207 in pretty great condition. It's my first CRT as an adult (i.e. caring about picture quality) submitted by EmbarrassedWeeb3614 to crtgaming [link] [comments] Every component performs as expected, and right now I'm interested in using it with an HDMI-RF modulator for watching old movies. I picked a 90s anime (One Piece) to see how subtitles perform, and I have an interesting issue. I know I shouldn't expect much clarity from this screen for things like small text, but it's so close to being tolerable that I might even be able to enjoy some classic subbed anime on it as well as more typical content. My question for the forum comes from tuning. When I adjust the focus, it brings the visible RGB into alignment for a nice white color for the text. However, it makes it too blurry to really be legible. Yet when the focus is off, and the colors can be seen individually, its somehow sharp enough to read? (Albeit still pretty hard due to the ghosting/layer overlaps) Is this something I can correct? Or is it a limitation of the technology? I opened the cabinet to dust it and inspect it, and saw there are 2 additional tuning potentiometers next to the RGB ones that you can't adjust from the outside of the cabinet, as well as a diagram on the inside of the cabinet (things really were made better back in the da). Should I bother adjusting any of these other settings? Or even adjusting the RGB levels? I'm happy-ish with the output, especially if those more experienced than me say I can't have my cake and eat it too with clarity on these old tubes. I haven't done any color tuning and I don't have any special equipment on hand. But if I can get this to output any better than it already does, then I'll be super stoked |
2024.05.15 22:28 EccentricSage81 nanotech hydrophobic cleaning!
The lotus leaf is listed as the greatest cleaning agent known to mankind in wikis and was the religious symbol of countless religions. when dirt is wet and becomes sticky mud it dries caked on and stuck and traps or allows for other air or splashes or spills to sort of stick. nanotech is so much smaller its like a big warehouse of crates having dust settle between them and by wiping and buffing and polishing around you remove some of the dirt hopefully most of it and get it underneath it will go right through and under about anything, got a tarpaulin or umm curtains over the window spray the curtains and unseen fine nanotech SHINES the window beautiful perfect coatings. the thin film is like nonstick frypan stuff but not the teflon stuff its safe diamonds arent teflon so the moisture and dirt wont stick as much and easily clean off or sorta slide down? nanotech like INKS and alcohol dyes (food coloring) or other paint pigment powders and !SOME! clearcoat polishes over a certain hardness rating which are safe for homes as under sapphire 9H or 10H it might be some sort of waste product cheap being sold as something like SCOTCH GUARD which may or may not have those long lasting microplastics which could be tiny serrated or jagged. If something is 9H or 10H diamond or sapphire hardness the few enamels or epoxys that bond that strong are small enough and dense that their structure is so tiny it slips through and under inside things and can reinforce them but doesnt damage round cells in organisms. the same way glass cleaner must be diluted and used everywhere as glass is porous and prehistoric volcanic obsidian glass walking spiders can walk up glass with special microhooks in their feet for the holes in glass look a bit like a golf ball dimples everywhere with tiny hole looks like hair lines through it like imagine those office ceiling panels with the holes in white particle board. So glass cleaner cleans out the gunk or else your windows will have a brownness you struggle to clean out of the glass without a deep penetrating cleaning agent that comes out looking a bit like brown river water thats discolored from the porous rocks in the water having umm tiny microorganisms yep rivers of brown. So a tiny drop of glass cleaner or a couple drops in a spray bottle or a bucket of water and maybe some one or two drops hydrophobic glass coating or quickpaint coat and a tiny drop or two or a single spray of PLASTIC AND LEATHER RESTORER
with these drops of stuff in water in a spray bottle or bucket you maybe wanna find something with a high % percentage of surfactants on the back of the detergent/soap bottle to wipe out germs and uhh its the cleaning component in all bubbling detergents the sort of science and cleaning and germ killing powers of it. Some floor cleaners made for timber floors that might be a little streaky and say like a polish or cure or something that maybe gives timber a little bit of a darker look when used regularly and appears subtly more expensive looking like hardwood but isnt carbonizing its a type of cellular structure bonding that reinforces not prehistoric torture the wood into looking blowtorched carbon stuff chemicals its a cleaning product disenfectant that protects and polishes but it needs some sprays of water then a spray or a few drops then buff it in and then dust mop it dry as its got some mild ANTISTATIC which helps lift up dust.. i found one that cleans like magic at my asian supermarkets but im not recommending specific brands over the other its the science of cleaning. then maybe put in a couple drops or up to a teaspoon of 10H hardness and like spray your laundry on the line or your carpet or whatever.. i do everything.. some products not 9H or greater will use some unsafe superglues which ignite cotton fabrics into flames or other things.. now house construction products like liquid nails brown glue for holding timber together might have a clear version called liquid glass that might be for window glazing or whatever i hadnt checked if its safe to use on fabrics and other surfaces the POINT of it is the NAME might say liquid glass but its maybe not silicon dioxide that the florist uses to keep their plants fresh for 2 weeks longer liquid glass as in THAT liquid glass like on your phones nanotech liquid screen protector you apply several coats of one each day then reapply every 8 months the cheap stuff.. some of the auto ones for cars can last 9 or 10 years. i found lots of bargain store looking products of sites like aliexpress or maybe amazon with brands like glassxkare or fantastic XML and adams polishes for tiny vials of 50ml or less of 10H hardness affordable or fantastic XML for like a big 500ML 9H hardness spray bottle that when sprayed into a spray bottle of water and glass cleaner and a drop of hydrophobic coating and plastic and leather restorer and a tiny drop of timber floor polish cleaner that may or may not make it a tiny bit streaky or splotchy the hydrophobic coatings may also be too hydrophobic you can tell if your spray bottle wont suck up water because the water cant enter the tube but if you spray a couple spray bottles of such tiny drops the nozzle will clog and not spray anymore.. nanocoatings can be tricky i dunno what to do. if its scratch protect films make it streaky and require buffing power tools and youre not loud big tools like me maybe aim it at carpets and couches rather than windows and do those without the floor polish. I've found no sort of uhh possible forseeable reasons for any health issues and my stuff looks and FEELS amazingly better, i think bathroom toilets or tiles or shower and tap fixtures or.. walls and floors and furniture and clothes.. i think id only not try spraying my drinking cups and cutlery but i honestly think i might need to drink the stuff its THAT GOOD. my cats LOVE IT! its kinda scary awesome.. i tried brands of plastic and leather restorer and quick paint coat and hydrophobic glass coating from HGKJ black and green labels. I couldnt tell you how safe it is, i just struggled as im a disability pensioner and saw our really old house falling apart and this damn near reversed a few decades off it and brand new snow clothing and jackets and throw rugs i bought felt BETTER THAN NEW i mean ridiculously better than new. ancient poisons used to clean HALF as good and were feared for being too good and too cheap. But diamonds and liquid diamond are naturally occuring hot springs reactions and the reason monkeys stay in there. its literally pretty much good for all life.
(plastic and leather restorer see leather deep conditioner but better and sorta similar to glass cleaner but a sort of UV protect oil and reinforce that adds the rich deep black color back to PU leathers and those vinyl anime girl figures yellowing from the sunlight and UV will becomes their original selves again or old yellowy car headlight covers get fixed up but so do most paints and timbers and other things. but you wanna seal it in with a nano coating when cleaning it out plastic and leather restorer is used in plastic manufacture and when you peel those clear plastic film stickers off shiny new products they help prevent its slow gradual evapouration and why they look so nice and black and arent just to prevent scratches. several days later plastic and leather restorers super shiny rich deep 'wet hair look for your black pleather chair' will seem to have worn off but its UV protect and other things will still be there and some polishes waxes or coatings can help keep it and its colors and UV protect there a bit longer well the look the restorer itself keeps it like how it was quite a while years? till it goes yellowy or faded again.)
So when we look at the water beading on lotus/lily pad leaves and things, ancient people used saps and old polishes and obsidian blades arrowheads since dinosaurs era. which with 200 times sharper than steel knives carbon nanotech its super dangerous deadly and was mostly all used up and we swapped it all out for modern glasses and glazing and safety glass so we dont slice our selves into piles of body parts on invisible pieces. Since the days of ink and whetstone nanotech advanced impossibly high particularly in volcanic hot springs countrys with samurai swords and caligraphy brush ink. Trying to find the scientifically safest and best possible cleaning products super affordably that might be useful for washing clothes, cars, metals plastics and other things.. are strangely not at the home hardware stores.. you see synthetic diamonds been on the gem market for centuries but too expensive to produce till modern different approaches with lasers and different gas precipitation with super high electricity concentrated over weeks or months or special electrolosys solutions will slowly layer and create diamonds but the diamond solution precipitated that grouped to each other or doesnt perfectly slot into the sort of tetris like bonds of the outer layers of the diamond a bit like diamond growth needs spaghetti O's and we're raining alphabet soup at it till with a bout 30% of the letters having a good chance of sticking. every few hours the solution of sublimation precipitate is swapped out creating a couple oven trays of 'liquid diamond solution' 10H hardness brightness and shines up glass with a thin film of diamond giving it moisture modest water resist we can use graphene to increase water resist and 10H+ hardness and apply hydrophobic coatings.. So who makes lots of these liquid finishes and what are they used for? Most are produced by a car race track owner who insists they protect their cars before taking them out onto the track or a speck of dirt or sand might scratch up the paint. But if i wanted to like power pressure washer spray it up onto my roof tiles and thin out some of that lichen and make them more uhh watertight leaks arent a concern but it might prevent a terrible future. anybody know why its not already a thing and there isnt countless guides on the ideal ratios and stuff? i mean its about as expensive as laundry detergent concentrate and used to be in most of those still is in some developed countries.. its what makes american movie sets look so umm bright and shiny and polished and awesome and makes mansions look like mansions or wealthy look and feel and its where LUXURY COMES FROM. is my cheap poor persons attempt at cleaning my own home not good? even if its mildly bad i think i'd use it forever. ESPECIALLY on things like 100% bamboo bed sheets i bought cheap ones from an australian online retailer and a few coatings of sprays and they felt and looked so dang shiny and awesome. Some bottles of the stuff claim 6 drops coats the car but remember many are diluted or not full strength or dont last long as advertised or a big bottle 500ML might be 3months to a year.. rather than tiny medicine bottle 50ml or 30ml sized 3-5 years most i guess, you need to keep applying a coat very often but having it not be streaky or buffing it in is tough so i maybe shaved years off its coating and thinned it out and just apply a bunch of coats as often product claims 9H its only a tiny % the whole spray bottle and needs many many applications to approach that but it is POSSIBLE theoretically. remember all glass cleaner is blue colored so when you dilute it with water you shouldnt have it fully color the water too much or its TOO STRONG. 80s people cleaned 80s glazing which maybe radium or lead tincture as radiation blocking films were often lead or radiation lined literally as a radiation shield was a.. film of radiation so it lasted years and needed double or triple glazing for expensive high rise buildings and cleaning heaps of smoky 80s glass dredged out horror mud floods of brown sludge that got them accused of dirtying things, though 80s squeegee thingys are really bad unless you reverse them and press down on a microfibre cloth with them for good even pressuer and a nice streak free clean using the back black rubber blade part to make a thin line of glass cleaning cloth good contact i previously saw reverse squeegee you mount cleaning cloths into specifically but searching i cant find to buy it when i tested it out at home with a squeegee that doesnt clip in like that. are there special tools you guys use? whats the secret? also the purple ceramic graphene ones seem awesome but maybe arent quite close to 9H either.. the bright shine of 10H or 10H+ on tiles and glass.. when apply hydrophobic it looks like zero application of anything somehow its gone for days. does anyone have a more ideal ratios specific or specific active ingredient amounts by weight or dilute with stuff that isnt water to help it keep its years of coating? does using a power washer make it not last? or last longer? or apply streaky splotchy? if its splotchy would more coats over weeks get it all consistent?
the liquid diamond stuff is in many countrys water or whatever.. but uhh concerns about silicosis maybe arent a thing at all if you cough it feels like its cleaning your lungs not harming them. Silicosis happens when criminal retards enter a sandblasting sealed room containment to steal the literally raw materials from factories or whatever or they use water cutting and sand blasting and CNC machines and sharpening blades constantly without sealed enclosure vacuum air scrubber filters. thats what wrecks those benchtop workers also they maybe mixing or breathing wrong epoxys and resins or dont seal them with the correct sealants and polishes and finishes.
submitted by EccentricSage81 to housekeeping [link] [comments]
with these drops of stuff in water in a spray bottle or bucket you maybe wanna find something with a high % percentage of surfactants on the back of the detergent/soap bottle to wipe out germs and uhh its the cleaning component in all bubbling detergents the sort of science and cleaning and germ killing powers of it. Some floor cleaners made for timber floors that might be a little streaky and say like a polish or cure or something that maybe gives timber a little bit of a darker look when used regularly and appears subtly more expensive looking like hardwood but isnt carbonizing its a type of cellular structure bonding that reinforces not prehistoric torture the wood into looking blowtorched carbon stuff chemicals its a cleaning product disenfectant that protects and polishes but it needs some sprays of water then a spray or a few drops then buff it in and then dust mop it dry as its got some mild ANTISTATIC which helps lift up dust.. i found one that cleans like magic at my asian supermarkets but im not recommending specific brands over the other its the science of cleaning. then maybe put in a couple drops or up to a teaspoon of 10H hardness and like spray your laundry on the line or your carpet or whatever.. i do everything.. some products not 9H or greater will use some unsafe superglues which ignite cotton fabrics into flames or other things.. now house construction products like liquid nails brown glue for holding timber together might have a clear version called liquid glass that might be for window glazing or whatever i hadnt checked if its safe to use on fabrics and other surfaces the POINT of it is the NAME might say liquid glass but its maybe not silicon dioxide that the florist uses to keep their plants fresh for 2 weeks longer liquid glass as in THAT liquid glass like on your phones nanotech liquid screen protector you apply several coats of one each day then reapply every 8 months the cheap stuff.. some of the auto ones for cars can last 9 or 10 years. i found lots of bargain store looking products of sites like aliexpress or maybe amazon with brands like glassxkare or fantastic XML and adams polishes for tiny vials of 50ml or less of 10H hardness affordable or fantastic XML for like a big 500ML 9H hardness spray bottle that when sprayed into a spray bottle of water and glass cleaner and a drop of hydrophobic coating and plastic and leather restorer and a tiny drop of timber floor polish cleaner that may or may not make it a tiny bit streaky or splotchy the hydrophobic coatings may also be too hydrophobic you can tell if your spray bottle wont suck up water because the water cant enter the tube but if you spray a couple spray bottles of such tiny drops the nozzle will clog and not spray anymore.. nanocoatings can be tricky i dunno what to do. if its scratch protect films make it streaky and require buffing power tools and youre not loud big tools like me maybe aim it at carpets and couches rather than windows and do those without the floor polish. I've found no sort of uhh possible forseeable reasons for any health issues and my stuff looks and FEELS amazingly better, i think bathroom toilets or tiles or shower and tap fixtures or.. walls and floors and furniture and clothes.. i think id only not try spraying my drinking cups and cutlery but i honestly think i might need to drink the stuff its THAT GOOD. my cats LOVE IT! its kinda scary awesome.. i tried brands of plastic and leather restorer and quick paint coat and hydrophobic glass coating from HGKJ black and green labels. I couldnt tell you how safe it is, i just struggled as im a disability pensioner and saw our really old house falling apart and this damn near reversed a few decades off it and brand new snow clothing and jackets and throw rugs i bought felt BETTER THAN NEW i mean ridiculously better than new. ancient poisons used to clean HALF as good and were feared for being too good and too cheap. But diamonds and liquid diamond are naturally occuring hot springs reactions and the reason monkeys stay in there. its literally pretty much good for all life.
(plastic and leather restorer see leather deep conditioner but better and sorta similar to glass cleaner but a sort of UV protect oil and reinforce that adds the rich deep black color back to PU leathers and those vinyl anime girl figures yellowing from the sunlight and UV will becomes their original selves again or old yellowy car headlight covers get fixed up but so do most paints and timbers and other things. but you wanna seal it in with a nano coating when cleaning it out plastic and leather restorer is used in plastic manufacture and when you peel those clear plastic film stickers off shiny new products they help prevent its slow gradual evapouration and why they look so nice and black and arent just to prevent scratches. several days later plastic and leather restorers super shiny rich deep 'wet hair look for your black pleather chair' will seem to have worn off but its UV protect and other things will still be there and some polishes waxes or coatings can help keep it and its colors and UV protect there a bit longer well the look the restorer itself keeps it like how it was quite a while years? till it goes yellowy or faded again.)
So when we look at the water beading on lotus/lily pad leaves and things, ancient people used saps and old polishes and obsidian blades arrowheads since dinosaurs era. which with 200 times sharper than steel knives carbon nanotech its super dangerous deadly and was mostly all used up and we swapped it all out for modern glasses and glazing and safety glass so we dont slice our selves into piles of body parts on invisible pieces. Since the days of ink and whetstone nanotech advanced impossibly high particularly in volcanic hot springs countrys with samurai swords and caligraphy brush ink. Trying to find the scientifically safest and best possible cleaning products super affordably that might be useful for washing clothes, cars, metals plastics and other things.. are strangely not at the home hardware stores.. you see synthetic diamonds been on the gem market for centuries but too expensive to produce till modern different approaches with lasers and different gas precipitation with super high electricity concentrated over weeks or months or special electrolosys solutions will slowly layer and create diamonds but the diamond solution precipitated that grouped to each other or doesnt perfectly slot into the sort of tetris like bonds of the outer layers of the diamond a bit like diamond growth needs spaghetti O's and we're raining alphabet soup at it till with a bout 30% of the letters having a good chance of sticking. every few hours the solution of sublimation precipitate is swapped out creating a couple oven trays of 'liquid diamond solution' 10H hardness brightness and shines up glass with a thin film of diamond giving it moisture modest water resist we can use graphene to increase water resist and 10H+ hardness and apply hydrophobic coatings.. So who makes lots of these liquid finishes and what are they used for? Most are produced by a car race track owner who insists they protect their cars before taking them out onto the track or a speck of dirt or sand might scratch up the paint. But if i wanted to like power pressure washer spray it up onto my roof tiles and thin out some of that lichen and make them more uhh watertight leaks arent a concern but it might prevent a terrible future. anybody know why its not already a thing and there isnt countless guides on the ideal ratios and stuff? i mean its about as expensive as laundry detergent concentrate and used to be in most of those still is in some developed countries.. its what makes american movie sets look so umm bright and shiny and polished and awesome and makes mansions look like mansions or wealthy look and feel and its where LUXURY COMES FROM. is my cheap poor persons attempt at cleaning my own home not good? even if its mildly bad i think i'd use it forever. ESPECIALLY on things like 100% bamboo bed sheets i bought cheap ones from an australian online retailer and a few coatings of sprays and they felt and looked so dang shiny and awesome. Some bottles of the stuff claim 6 drops coats the car but remember many are diluted or not full strength or dont last long as advertised or a big bottle 500ML might be 3months to a year.. rather than tiny medicine bottle 50ml or 30ml sized 3-5 years most i guess, you need to keep applying a coat very often but having it not be streaky or buffing it in is tough so i maybe shaved years off its coating and thinned it out and just apply a bunch of coats as often product claims 9H its only a tiny % the whole spray bottle and needs many many applications to approach that but it is POSSIBLE theoretically. remember all glass cleaner is blue colored so when you dilute it with water you shouldnt have it fully color the water too much or its TOO STRONG. 80s people cleaned 80s glazing which maybe radium or lead tincture as radiation blocking films were often lead or radiation lined literally as a radiation shield was a.. film of radiation so it lasted years and needed double or triple glazing for expensive high rise buildings and cleaning heaps of smoky 80s glass dredged out horror mud floods of brown sludge that got them accused of dirtying things, though 80s squeegee thingys are really bad unless you reverse them and press down on a microfibre cloth with them for good even pressuer and a nice streak free clean using the back black rubber blade part to make a thin line of glass cleaning cloth good contact i previously saw reverse squeegee you mount cleaning cloths into specifically but searching i cant find to buy it when i tested it out at home with a squeegee that doesnt clip in like that. are there special tools you guys use? whats the secret? also the purple ceramic graphene ones seem awesome but maybe arent quite close to 9H either.. the bright shine of 10H or 10H+ on tiles and glass.. when apply hydrophobic it looks like zero application of anything somehow its gone for days. does anyone have a more ideal ratios specific or specific active ingredient amounts by weight or dilute with stuff that isnt water to help it keep its years of coating? does using a power washer make it not last? or last longer? or apply streaky splotchy? if its splotchy would more coats over weeks get it all consistent?
the liquid diamond stuff is in many countrys water or whatever.. but uhh concerns about silicosis maybe arent a thing at all if you cough it feels like its cleaning your lungs not harming them. Silicosis happens when criminal retards enter a sandblasting sealed room containment to steal the literally raw materials from factories or whatever or they use water cutting and sand blasting and CNC machines and sharpening blades constantly without sealed enclosure vacuum air scrubber filters. thats what wrecks those benchtop workers also they maybe mixing or breathing wrong epoxys and resins or dont seal them with the correct sealants and polishes and finishes.
2024.05.15 22:23 NaturalLanguage9641 AITJ2 ( Am I The Jerk )
Rules for AmITheJerk2 Rules that visitors must follow to participate. May be used as reasons to report or ban.
Be Civil
Attack ideas, not people. The purpose of this sub is to determine and explain who is in the wrong, not to eviscerate anyone. Treat others with respect while helping them grow through outside perspectives. Derogatory or dehumanizing language, including insults, violate this rule.
This rule applies to EVERYONE, even those not on Reddit. Don't insult others or get into spats in the comments. Don't comment to remind users of the rules - use reports.
Be respectful. Be nice. Don't be an asshole.
Voting Rules
Upvote posts that make for an interesting discussion. DON'T downvote if you think OP is an asshole. DON'T DOWNVOTE COMMENTS YOU DISAGREE WITH. Downvotes should be reserved for off-topic discussions or spam. Report harassing comments, don’t engage.
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This sub is here for the submitter to discover what everyone else thinks of the ethics or mores of a situation. It is not here to draw people into an argument you want to have, or to defend your position. If people start saying you were the asshole, do not take that as an invitation to debate them on the subject... accept the judgment and move on. If you have valid reason to think a commenter needs more information or misunderstood the facts of the conflict, you may give new information.
Never Delete An Active Discussion
DO NOT delete your submission once a discussion has begun. Your post must stay up for at least 48 hours. We encourage submitters to use throwaways to maintain their privacy, but deleting a discussion is unacceptable. Violators will be banned.
No Violeпce
Don't even mention violence.
If your post or comment references violence, don't share it here. Any hint, mention, euphemism or suggestion of violence falls under this rule and isn't allowed.
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How To Post
The TITLE of your submission must begin with the acronym AITA or WIBTA (would I be the asshole?), then a description of the situation.
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Post Interpersonal Conflicts
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This is not a humor sub. This isn't a sub for copypastas, satire, overly embellished stories, AI generated content, or creative writing exercises.
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Do Not Ask For Advice
This is NOT an advice sub. All submissions that ask for advice (instead of or in addition to judgment) will be removed. This sub is for arbitration.
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Updates and META posts are restricted Posts only Posts dedicated to discussing AITJ should be directed to the monthly open forum. Any META posts will be removed & may result in a ban.
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This is not a saga/diary sub. You may submit one post every 3-4 months at most. Excessive posting may result in a ban.
No Partings/Relationship/Sex/Reproductive Autonomy Posts Posts only AITJ is not a relationship sub. We do not allow the following types of posts:
AITJ for ghosting/cutting/reducing/denying contact with anyone (or not) AITJ for liking/pursuing/dating/breaking up with someone (or not) AITJ for doing a sexual act (or not) Reproductive decisions (including adopting/fostering children & delivery room conflicts) Posts about cheating-including "exposing" someone's cheating (or not). Or similar conflicts that only exist in romantic or sexual relationships.
This Is Not A Debate Sub
If judgment is primarily motivated by whether commenters agree with your stance on a broad issue it is not appropriate for this sub. This includes anything from politically motivated conflicts to innocuous issues like if cake is better than pie. If you're ultimately asking if it is okay to kick someone off your team for their sexual identity, stop talking to your friend because they vape, or any similar debate, your post will be removed.
No starting off topic debates about marginalized groups
No Revenge Stories
There are many subreddits for sharing tales of revenge—this is not one of them. This is a sub for providing feedback on interpersonal conflict, not for endorsing how you escalate a conflict. If you're here to tell us how you punished someone who totally had it coming, you're probably breaking this rule.
No Medical Conflicts
AITJ is a platform for moral judgement, not medical advice. The life and death consequences of many medical conflicts are well outside of Reddit's paygrade. We do not allow posts where the central conflict is transmitting or contracting any communicable disease, or undergoing any kind of medical procedure.
submitted by NaturalLanguage9641 to AmITheJerk2 [link] [comments]
Be Civil
Attack ideas, not people. The purpose of this sub is to determine and explain who is in the wrong, not to eviscerate anyone. Treat others with respect while helping them grow through outside perspectives. Derogatory or dehumanizing language, including insults, violate this rule.
This rule applies to EVERYONE, even those not on Reddit. Don't insult others or get into spats in the comments. Don't comment to remind users of the rules - use reports.
Be respectful. Be nice. Don't be an asshole.
Voting Rules
Upvote posts that make for an interesting discussion. DON'T downvote if you think OP is an asshole. DON'T DOWNVOTE COMMENTS YOU DISAGREE WITH. Downvotes should be reserved for off-topic discussions or spam. Report harassing comments, don’t engage.
Don't participate in threads you have found through crossposts and links outside of this subreddit. In this sub, your comment is a vote. Brigading/Vote manipulation is against Reddit site wide rules. Brigading will earn a permanent ban.
Accept Your Judgment
This sub is here for the submitter to discover what everyone else thinks of the ethics or mores of a situation. It is not here to draw people into an argument you want to have, or to defend your position. If people start saying you were the asshole, do not take that as an invitation to debate them on the subject... accept the judgment and move on. If you have valid reason to think a commenter needs more information or misunderstood the facts of the conflict, you may give new information.
Never Delete An Active Discussion
DO NOT delete your submission once a discussion has begun. Your post must stay up for at least 48 hours. We encourage submitters to use throwaways to maintain their privacy, but deleting a discussion is unacceptable. Violators will be banned.
No Violeпce
Don't even mention violence.
If your post or comment references violence, don't share it here. Any hint, mention, euphemism or suggestion of violence falls under this rule and isn't allowed.
Comments and even jokes about violence are not tolerated. Encouraging self-harm, suicide, "bad karma," property damage, food tampering, or anything that wishes mental or physical pain on anyone is strictly prohibited. Violating this rule will result in a permanent ban.
How To Post
The TITLE of your submission must begin with the acronym AITA or WIBTA (would I be the asshole?), then a description of the situation.
Posts are limited to 3000 characters. Paragraphs are good; block text walls are bad. Format and punctuate your post reasonably. Be clear and concise. Don't link to screenshots or other subreddits. If you can't explain yourself in one post, without using external text pages, it does not belong here. Do not use someone else's account or a shared account.
Post Interpersonal Conflicts
Posts should be descriptions of recent interpersonal conflicts. Describe both sides in detail. Make it clear why you may be "the jerk."
Submissions must contain a real-life conflict between you and at least one other person. They should not be about feelings, opinions, or desires. If your conflict is with a larger demographic, an animal, someone online, a business, or a third party who’s irrelevant to the main question but thought what you did sucked, your post will be removed.
No Shitposts
Posts must be truthful and presented as fairly and accurately as possible. Posts must be written entirely by you and from your own point of view. Do not post on behalf of others, or from the point of view of another person in the story.
This is not a humor sub. This isn't a sub for copypastas, satire, overly embellished stories, AI generated content, or creative writing exercises.
Shitposting will result in a permanent ban.
Do Not Ask For Advice
This is NOT an advice sub. All submissions that ask for advice (instead of or in addition to judgment) will be removed. This sub is for arbitration.
You may include advice when you make your comments, but remember that your primary objective in commenting is to assign blame and pass judgment.
If a thread's focus becomes about advice instead of arbitration the thread may be removed regardless of the OP's intent.
Updates and META posts are restricted Posts only Posts dedicated to discussing AITJ should be directed to the monthly open forum. Any META posts will be removed & may result in a ban.
Update posts require approval. This includes any post that references another post, including posting the other perspective. Review the update criteria for more info. Unapproved updates will result in a ban.
This is not a saga/diary sub. You may submit one post every 3-4 months at most. Excessive posting may result in a ban.
No Partings/Relationship/Sex/Reproductive Autonomy Posts Posts only AITJ is not a relationship sub. We do not allow the following types of posts:
AITJ for ghosting/cutting/reducing/denying contact with anyone (or not) AITJ for liking/pursuing/dating/breaking up with someone (or not) AITJ for doing a sexual act (or not) Reproductive decisions (including adopting/fostering children & delivery room conflicts) Posts about cheating-including "exposing" someone's cheating (or not). Or similar conflicts that only exist in romantic or sexual relationships.
This Is Not A Debate Sub
If judgment is primarily motivated by whether commenters agree with your stance on a broad issue it is not appropriate for this sub. This includes anything from politically motivated conflicts to innocuous issues like if cake is better than pie. If you're ultimately asking if it is okay to kick someone off your team for their sexual identity, stop talking to your friend because they vape, or any similar debate, your post will be removed.
No starting off topic debates about marginalized groups
No Revenge Stories
There are many subreddits for sharing tales of revenge—this is not one of them. This is a sub for providing feedback on interpersonal conflict, not for endorsing how you escalate a conflict. If you're here to tell us how you punished someone who totally had it coming, you're probably breaking this rule.
No Medical Conflicts
AITJ is a platform for moral judgement, not medical advice. The life and death consequences of many medical conflicts are well outside of Reddit's paygrade. We do not allow posts where the central conflict is transmitting or contracting any communicable disease, or undergoing any kind of medical procedure.
2024.05.15 22:19 NaturalLanguage9641 AITJ ( Am I The Jerk )
Rules for AmITheJerk2 Rules that visitors must follow to participate. May be used as reasons to report or ban.
Be Civil
Attack ideas, not people. The purpose of this sub is to determine and explain who is in the wrong, not to eviscerate anyone. Treat others with respect while helping them grow through outside perspectives. Derogatory or dehumanizing language, including insults, violate this rule.
This rule applies to EVERYONE, even those not on Reddit. Don't insult others or get into spats in the comments. Don't comment to remind users of the rules - use reports.
Be respectful. Be nice. Don't be an asshole.
Voting Rules Posts & Comments Upvote posts that make for an interesting discussion. DON'T downvote if you think OP is an asshole. DON'T DOWNVOTE COMMENTS YOU DISAGREE WITH. Downvotes should be reserved for off-topic discussions or spam. Report harassing comments, don’t engage.
Don't participate in threads you have found through crossposts and links outside of this subreddit. In this sub, your comment is a vote. Brigading/Vote manipulation is against Reddit site wide rules. Brigading will earn a permanent ban.
Accept Your Judgment
This sub is here for the submitter to discover what everyone else thinks of the ethics or mores of a situation. It is not here to draw people into an argument you want to have, or to defend your position. If people start saying you were the asshole, do not take that as an invitation to debate them on the subject... accept the judgment and move on. If you have valid reason to think a commenter needs more information or misunderstood the facts of the conflict, you may give new information.
Never Delete An Active Discussion Posts & Comments DO NOT delete your submission once a discussion has begun. Your post must stay up for at least 48 hours. We encourage submitters to use throwaways to maintain their privacy, but deleting a discussion is unacceptable. Violators will be banned.
No Violeпce Posts & Comments Don't even mention violence.
If your post or comment references violence, don't share it here. Any hint, mention, euphemism or suggestion of violence falls under this rule and isn't allowed.
Comments and even jokes about violence are not tolerated. Encouraging self-harm, suicide, "bad karma," property damage, food tampering, or anything that wishes mental or physical pain on anyone is strictly prohibited. Violating this rule will result in a permanent ban.
How To Post
The TITLE of your submission must begin with the acronym AITA or WIBTA (would I be the asshole?), then a description of the situation.
Posts are limited to 3000 characters. Paragraphs are good; block text walls are bad. Format and punctuate your post reasonably. Be clear and concise. Don't link to screenshots or other subreddits. If you can't explain yourself in one post, without using external text pages, it does not belong here. Do not use someone else's account or a shared account.
Post Interpersonal Conflicts
Posts should be descriptions of recent interpersonal conflicts. Describe both sides in detail. Make it clear why you may be "the asshole."
Submissions must contain a real-life conflict between you and at least one other person. They should not be about feelings, opinions, or desires. If your conflict is with a larger demographic, an animal, someone online, a business, or a third party who’s irrelevant to the main question but thought what you did sucked, your post will be removed.
No Shitposts
Posts must be truthful and presented as fairly and accurately as possible. Posts must be written entirely by you and from your own point of view. Do not post on behalf of others, or from the point of view of another person in the story.
This is not a humor sub. This isn't a sub for copypastas, satire, overly embellished stories, AI generated content, or creative writing exercises.
Shitposting will result in a permanent ban.
Do Not Ask For Advice
This is NOT an advice sub. All submissions that ask for advice (instead of or in addition to judgment) will be removed. This sub is for arbitration.
You may include advice when you make your comments, but remember that your primary objective in commenting is to assign blame and pass judgment.
If a thread's focus becomes about advice instead of arbitration the thread may be removed regardless of the OP's intent.
Updates and META posts are restricted Posts only Posts dedicated to discussing AITA should be directed to the monthly open forum. Any META posts will be removed & may result in a ban.
Update posts require approval. This includes any post that references another post, including posting the other perspective. Review the update criteria for more info. Unapproved updates will result in a ban.
This is not a saga/diary sub. You may submit one post every 3-4 months at most. Excessive posting may result in a ban.
No Partings/Relationship/Sex/Reproductive Autonomy Posts Posts only AITJ is not a relationship sub. We do not allow the following types of posts:
AITJ for ghosting/cutting/reducing/denying contact with anyone (or not) AITA for liking/pursuing/dating/breaking up with someone (or not) AITJ for doing a sexual act (or not) Reproductive decisions (including adopting/fostering children & delivery room conflicts) Posts about cheating-including "exposing" someone's cheating (or not). Or similar conflicts that only exist in romantic or sexual relationships.
This Is Not A Debate Sub
If judgment is primarily motivated by whether commenters agree with your stance on a broad issue it is not appropriate for this sub. This includes anything from politically motivated conflicts to innocuous issues like if cake is better than pie. If you're ultimately asking if it is okay to kick someone off your team for their sexual identity, stop talking to your friend because they vape, or any similar debate, your post will be removed.
No starting off topic debates about marginalized groups
No Revenge Stories
There are many subreddits for sharing tales of revenge—this is not one of them. This is a sub for providing feedback on interpersonal conflict, not for endorsing how you escalate a conflict. If you're here to tell us how you punished someone who totally had it coming, you're probably breaking this rule.
No Medical Conflicts
AITA is a platform for moral judgement, not medical advice. The life and death consequences of many medical conflicts are well outside of Reddit's paygrade. We do not allow posts where the central conflict is transmitting or contracting any communicable disease, or undergoing any kind of medical procedure.
submitted by NaturalLanguage9641 to u/NaturalLanguage9641 [link] [comments]
Be Civil
Attack ideas, not people. The purpose of this sub is to determine and explain who is in the wrong, not to eviscerate anyone. Treat others with respect while helping them grow through outside perspectives. Derogatory or dehumanizing language, including insults, violate this rule.
This rule applies to EVERYONE, even those not on Reddit. Don't insult others or get into spats in the comments. Don't comment to remind users of the rules - use reports.
Be respectful. Be nice. Don't be an asshole.
Voting Rules Posts & Comments Upvote posts that make for an interesting discussion. DON'T downvote if you think OP is an asshole. DON'T DOWNVOTE COMMENTS YOU DISAGREE WITH. Downvotes should be reserved for off-topic discussions or spam. Report harassing comments, don’t engage.
Don't participate in threads you have found through crossposts and links outside of this subreddit. In this sub, your comment is a vote. Brigading/Vote manipulation is against Reddit site wide rules. Brigading will earn a permanent ban.
Accept Your Judgment
This sub is here for the submitter to discover what everyone else thinks of the ethics or mores of a situation. It is not here to draw people into an argument you want to have, or to defend your position. If people start saying you were the asshole, do not take that as an invitation to debate them on the subject... accept the judgment and move on. If you have valid reason to think a commenter needs more information or misunderstood the facts of the conflict, you may give new information.
Never Delete An Active Discussion Posts & Comments DO NOT delete your submission once a discussion has begun. Your post must stay up for at least 48 hours. We encourage submitters to use throwaways to maintain their privacy, but deleting a discussion is unacceptable. Violators will be banned.
No Violeпce Posts & Comments Don't even mention violence.
If your post or comment references violence, don't share it here. Any hint, mention, euphemism or suggestion of violence falls under this rule and isn't allowed.
Comments and even jokes about violence are not tolerated. Encouraging self-harm, suicide, "bad karma," property damage, food tampering, or anything that wishes mental or physical pain on anyone is strictly prohibited. Violating this rule will result in a permanent ban.
How To Post
The TITLE of your submission must begin with the acronym AITA or WIBTA (would I be the asshole?), then a description of the situation.
Posts are limited to 3000 characters. Paragraphs are good; block text walls are bad. Format and punctuate your post reasonably. Be clear and concise. Don't link to screenshots or other subreddits. If you can't explain yourself in one post, without using external text pages, it does not belong here. Do not use someone else's account or a shared account.
Post Interpersonal Conflicts
Posts should be descriptions of recent interpersonal conflicts. Describe both sides in detail. Make it clear why you may be "the asshole."
Submissions must contain a real-life conflict between you and at least one other person. They should not be about feelings, opinions, or desires. If your conflict is with a larger demographic, an animal, someone online, a business, or a third party who’s irrelevant to the main question but thought what you did sucked, your post will be removed.
No Shitposts
Posts must be truthful and presented as fairly and accurately as possible. Posts must be written entirely by you and from your own point of view. Do not post on behalf of others, or from the point of view of another person in the story.
This is not a humor sub. This isn't a sub for copypastas, satire, overly embellished stories, AI generated content, or creative writing exercises.
Shitposting will result in a permanent ban.
Do Not Ask For Advice
This is NOT an advice sub. All submissions that ask for advice (instead of or in addition to judgment) will be removed. This sub is for arbitration.
You may include advice when you make your comments, but remember that your primary objective in commenting is to assign blame and pass judgment.
If a thread's focus becomes about advice instead of arbitration the thread may be removed regardless of the OP's intent.
Updates and META posts are restricted Posts only Posts dedicated to discussing AITA should be directed to the monthly open forum. Any META posts will be removed & may result in a ban.
Update posts require approval. This includes any post that references another post, including posting the other perspective. Review the update criteria for more info. Unapproved updates will result in a ban.
This is not a saga/diary sub. You may submit one post every 3-4 months at most. Excessive posting may result in a ban.
No Partings/Relationship/Sex/Reproductive Autonomy Posts Posts only AITJ is not a relationship sub. We do not allow the following types of posts:
AITJ for ghosting/cutting/reducing/denying contact with anyone (or not) AITA for liking/pursuing/dating/breaking up with someone (or not) AITJ for doing a sexual act (or not) Reproductive decisions (including adopting/fostering children & delivery room conflicts) Posts about cheating-including "exposing" someone's cheating (or not). Or similar conflicts that only exist in romantic or sexual relationships.
This Is Not A Debate Sub
If judgment is primarily motivated by whether commenters agree with your stance on a broad issue it is not appropriate for this sub. This includes anything from politically motivated conflicts to innocuous issues like if cake is better than pie. If you're ultimately asking if it is okay to kick someone off your team for their sexual identity, stop talking to your friend because they vape, or any similar debate, your post will be removed.
No starting off topic debates about marginalized groups
No Revenge Stories
There are many subreddits for sharing tales of revenge—this is not one of them. This is a sub for providing feedback on interpersonal conflict, not for endorsing how you escalate a conflict. If you're here to tell us how you punished someone who totally had it coming, you're probably breaking this rule.
No Medical Conflicts
AITA is a platform for moral judgement, not medical advice. The life and death consequences of many medical conflicts are well outside of Reddit's paygrade. We do not allow posts where the central conflict is transmitting or contracting any communicable disease, or undergoing any kind of medical procedure.
2024.05.15 22:18 GrimmInDarkness Torn Veil: A Priest's Descent
Detective Pierce and his colleague Morrison walked down the dark hall to the interrogation room where Seminarian Crawford Rossi awaited them.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford Rossi." Pierce greeted as he walked inside taking a seat.
Rossi cradled a foam coffee cup in his hands looking up at them with dark circles under his eyes "Good evening." he mumbled.
"I want to talk to you about what happened to Father Pesci." Pierce began opening a case file he brought with him.
"Father Pesci..." Rossi spoke softly keeping his head down before looking at both detectives "He wasn't a bad man."
Morrison nods in understanding “We just need to hear your side of the story.”
Rossi’s shoulders went lax, and he leaned back looking up at the dim light hanging above them.
“It was the day before Easter Sunday. We were setting things up and there was this weird box among the decorations.” he began rubbing his hands together and looked back at the detectives.
“A weird box?” Pierce questioned.
Rossi nods “I know it seems strange but…” he paused biting his bottom lip “This box didn’t belong to the church. When I took it to Father Pesci, he said it was probably donated by someone.”
Morrison nodded and jotted down notes in his notepad “What did this box look like?”
The Seminarian began describing to them the box he had found. It was a medium ornate box the baby blue and white polka dot wrapping paper was weathered as if it had been left in the sun all day. The white ribbon was frayed and splotched with tiny specks of red. The box felt so heavy in his hands.
“Did you ever open this box?” Pierce asked.
Rossi shook his head “N-no it felt wrong.”
“So, an old gift felt wrong to you?” Morrison scoffed shaking his head.
“Since it was unopened” Rossi wrung his hands together “I put it in Father Pesci’s office that morning and by the evening it was open” the Seminarian paused looking up at the detectives.
“What of Father Pesci?” Pierce questioned “What did he find inside that box?”
Rossi sat back in his chair rubbing his hands onto his pants “He was in the corner of his office mumbling to himself and the box…” he took a deep breath and exhaled “Oozed a brownish red onto his desk.”
During the service that evening Father Pesci will have murdered an entire congregation. Their heads placed onto their laps and hands wired together in prayer. Pesci himself disappeared after leaving symbols written in blood all over the walls behind the podium. The gift box was missing and nowhere to be found along with one of the hearses.
“I’m sure the entire event has been quite traumatic for you. Since you were the one to find the service in such a grim state” said Pierce giving Rossi a knowing smile trying to give the man some comfort.
“Detectives” the Seminarian began licking his lips “Will you be able to find the father before he hurts more people?” he leaned forward looking them both in the eyes.
“Of course we’ll find him.” Morrison was confident.
Pierce wanted to relay the same energy but according to the reports they had gotten back the hearse that Father Pesci had taken was found abandoned in the next town. Which means from there the possessed Pesci walked the rest of the way to his destination.
He did however have an idea where the Father was heading. There was an older case where a clown was attending a child’s birthday party. Or what was supposed to be. When the professional entertainer got to the house he was greeted by a cult. This cult did unspeakable things to this man using him in a ritual for whatever god they worshipped. Then placed his head into the very box that he had brought the birthday cake in.
A medium box with baby blue wrapping paper with white polka dots and a white ribbon on top.
A possessed Father Pesci was heading to the place where it all started. The place where that thing that now wore him like a suit was brought into this world. Pierce looked over at Morrison who furrowed his brow.
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford Rossi we will contact, you when we find Father Pesci.” Pierce assured him who nodded anxiously looking around before getting up to leave the room.
Rossi solemnly nodded getting up from his chair. As he walked to the door to exit the interrogation room he looked back at Morrison and Pierce. “There was something else I need to mention” he spoke low making the detectives to strain their ears to listen “Before I found Father Pesci he was talking to someone. A voice I never heard before, but it filled me full of dread.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” inquired Morrison
Rossi held his hands in front of him in a silent prayer “Because I don’t think I should have heard what they were talking about.”
Pierce scratched his chin “Can you tell us what was said?”
Rossi shook his head “No…no if I do. IT will come for me next.”
The ‘it’ he was referring to must have been whatever had possessed Father Pesci. He left the room leaving both detectives to go over the information they had gathered. Morrison flipped through his notes and clicked his tongue.
“What are we even supposed to do with any of this?” he scoffed motioning to the notepad in his hand.
“Don’t worry we have plenty of information to go off. Besides I know where we will find Father Pesci and hopefully, we will arrive in time.” answered Pierce who stood up first and headed to the door.
Morrison scratched his head following behind his coworker “I sure hope you’re right.”
Honestly even Pierce himself hoped he was right too because they had a long car ride ahead of them and had to make sure they brought the proper equipment with them. They had a Priest to exercise after all.
submitted by GrimmInDarkness to scarystories [link] [comments]
"Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford Rossi." Pierce greeted as he walked inside taking a seat.
Rossi cradled a foam coffee cup in his hands looking up at them with dark circles under his eyes "Good evening." he mumbled.
"I want to talk to you about what happened to Father Pesci." Pierce began opening a case file he brought with him.
"Father Pesci..." Rossi spoke softly keeping his head down before looking at both detectives "He wasn't a bad man."
Morrison nods in understanding “We just need to hear your side of the story.”
Rossi’s shoulders went lax, and he leaned back looking up at the dim light hanging above them.
“It was the day before Easter Sunday. We were setting things up and there was this weird box among the decorations.” he began rubbing his hands together and looked back at the detectives.
“A weird box?” Pierce questioned.
Rossi nods “I know it seems strange but…” he paused biting his bottom lip “This box didn’t belong to the church. When I took it to Father Pesci, he said it was probably donated by someone.”
Morrison nodded and jotted down notes in his notepad “What did this box look like?”
The Seminarian began describing to them the box he had found. It was a medium ornate box the baby blue and white polka dot wrapping paper was weathered as if it had been left in the sun all day. The white ribbon was frayed and splotched with tiny specks of red. The box felt so heavy in his hands.
“Did you ever open this box?” Pierce asked.
Rossi shook his head “N-no it felt wrong.”
“So, an old gift felt wrong to you?” Morrison scoffed shaking his head.
“Since it was unopened” Rossi wrung his hands together “I put it in Father Pesci’s office that morning and by the evening it was open” the Seminarian paused looking up at the detectives.
“What of Father Pesci?” Pierce questioned “What did he find inside that box?”
Rossi sat back in his chair rubbing his hands onto his pants “He was in the corner of his office mumbling to himself and the box…” he took a deep breath and exhaled “Oozed a brownish red onto his desk.”
During the service that evening Father Pesci will have murdered an entire congregation. Their heads placed onto their laps and hands wired together in prayer. Pesci himself disappeared after leaving symbols written in blood all over the walls behind the podium. The gift box was missing and nowhere to be found along with one of the hearses.
“I’m sure the entire event has been quite traumatic for you. Since you were the one to find the service in such a grim state” said Pierce giving Rossi a knowing smile trying to give the man some comfort.
“Detectives” the Seminarian began licking his lips “Will you be able to find the father before he hurts more people?” he leaned forward looking them both in the eyes.
“Of course we’ll find him.” Morrison was confident.
Pierce wanted to relay the same energy but according to the reports they had gotten back the hearse that Father Pesci had taken was found abandoned in the next town. Which means from there the possessed Pesci walked the rest of the way to his destination.
He did however have an idea where the Father was heading. There was an older case where a clown was attending a child’s birthday party. Or what was supposed to be. When the professional entertainer got to the house he was greeted by a cult. This cult did unspeakable things to this man using him in a ritual for whatever god they worshipped. Then placed his head into the very box that he had brought the birthday cake in.
A medium box with baby blue wrapping paper with white polka dots and a white ribbon on top.
A possessed Father Pesci was heading to the place where it all started. The place where that thing that now wore him like a suit was brought into this world. Pierce looked over at Morrison who furrowed his brow.
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford Rossi we will contact, you when we find Father Pesci.” Pierce assured him who nodded anxiously looking around before getting up to leave the room.
Rossi solemnly nodded getting up from his chair. As he walked to the door to exit the interrogation room he looked back at Morrison and Pierce. “There was something else I need to mention” he spoke low making the detectives to strain their ears to listen “Before I found Father Pesci he was talking to someone. A voice I never heard before, but it filled me full of dread.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” inquired Morrison
Rossi held his hands in front of him in a silent prayer “Because I don’t think I should have heard what they were talking about.”
Pierce scratched his chin “Can you tell us what was said?”
Rossi shook his head “No…no if I do. IT will come for me next.”
The ‘it’ he was referring to must have been whatever had possessed Father Pesci. He left the room leaving both detectives to go over the information they had gathered. Morrison flipped through his notes and clicked his tongue.
“What are we even supposed to do with any of this?” he scoffed motioning to the notepad in his hand.
“Don’t worry we have plenty of information to go off. Besides I know where we will find Father Pesci and hopefully, we will arrive in time.” answered Pierce who stood up first and headed to the door.
Morrison scratched his head following behind his coworker “I sure hope you’re right.”
Honestly even Pierce himself hoped he was right too because they had a long car ride ahead of them and had to make sure they brought the proper equipment with them. They had a Priest to exercise after all.
2024.05.15 21:21 marginwalkr Return of the Mount Hua Sect - Chapter 123 - AI MTL
"...미친 건가?"
"제 사질을 어찌 검증하겠다는 것인지 들어보고 싶군요."
submitted by marginwalkr to ReturnOfMountHuaSect [link] [comments]
- "...Are you crazy?"
- "...Mount Hua Sect?"
- "Seriously, have kids these days completely lost their manners?"
- "Who are you to ask?!"
- "Isn't it basic courtesy to introduce yourself before asking someone else's name?! Geez, I'm speechless!"
- "Hahaha! Oh no! He's really drunk! Sorry! Sorry!"
- "Alright, let's go in!"
- "Cheongmyeong...! Don't move!"
- "Cheongmyeong...?"
- "Are you saying that person is the Mount Hua Dragon, Cheongmyeong?"
- "...Huh? Mount Hua Dragon?"
- "That person is...?"
- "Hey! Look! He's calling me!"
- "No, no one called you!"
- "You misheard! Let's go in for now, Cheongmyeong!"
- "I just called you, so come here!"
- "Alright, I'm back here."
- "Why?"
- "...I apologize for earlier."
- "I am the Tang Clan's Dangjan from Sichuan."
- "Tang Clan?"
- "The Tang Clan from Sichuan?"
- "No... The Tang Clan I know are at least educated people."
- "Are you telling me that well-educated people would come in the middle of the night causing a ruckus demanding someone be handed over?"
- "You bastard~!!"
- "The Tang Clan I know would have searched everywhere and replaced all the Tang members with new ones!"
- "Shut your mouth!!"
- "...I apologize for the rudeness."
- "This brat's mouth! Mouth!"
- "Yes! Yes!"
- "He is called Baekcheon of Mount Hua."
- "Baekcheon...?"
- "The Huajong Sword? Then you must be the one who defeated the Sword Dragon of Wudang."
- "It's too much, but I am called by that nickname."
- "Finally, someone who can talk sense has stepped forward..."
- "You've already heard everything from the back, so I won't bother repeating it."
- "There are many entanglements between Sir Cho and the Tang Clan."
- "Therefore, I just want to confirm what you gained from Mount Hua here today."
- "Please bring Sir Cho here."
- "That's all I want."
- "Trying to exercise king-like authority despite not being royalty... It seems the rumor that the Tang Clan rules like kings within this city is true."
- "If you try to evade clumsily, Jo Kyung-ji will likely pay the price."
- "In that case..."
- "Elder. I'll go."
- "...Brother, what on earth..."
- "...What on earth is happening?"
- "I don't understand."
- "...This happened because the fame of Mount Hua has risen."
- "They don't want the influential families of the city to escape the control of the Tang Clan."
- "They know that if they let me go, other children of influential families might also go to prestigious sects elsewhere, so they are trying to disgrace me and cut off the problem at the root."
- "...Huh? Does that even make sense?"
- "...This is how people live in this Sichuan city."
- "And this is the way the Tang Clan has ruled Sichuan."
- "If Mount Hua gets involved here, things will get more complicated."
- "Please leave this matter to me."
- "...Alright. Wait for a moment."
- "...Elder?"
"제 사질을 어찌 검증하겠다는 것인지 들어보고 싶군요."
- "I'd like to hear how you plan to verify my disciple's identity."
- "...?!"
- "Haha, you're asking something obvious."
- "Is there any other way for a martial artist to verify another martial artist? We'll know once we cross hands."
- "So, you want to verify the skills of Jo Kyung, the prince of the Merchant Guild and a third-generation disciple of Mount Hua, and announce the results to the city, so you're asking to bring out Jo Kyung... Is that what you're saying?"
"이건 사천당가의 행사입니다." - "This is a Tang Clan event."
- "We will not tolerate any interference."
- "Of course."
- "We at Mount Hua have no intention of interfering with the Tang Clan's event."
- "However... there is a slight problem,"
- "Problem?"
- "We don't intend to interfere, but are you saying that those present here will verify Jo Kyung?"
- "...Why is that a problem?"
- "...With that level of skill?"
- "...What?"
- "You dare to claim that you will verify the skills of a third-generation disciple of Mount Hua,"
- "We should give you the appropriate reception."
- "Come on, I will first verify your skills."
- "If you refuse, you will not be able to lay a finger on my disciple."
- "This is a Mount Hua event."
- "I will not tolerate any interference."
- "Elder...!"
- "Hehe."
- "You tell others not to cause trouble, yet you are causing trouble yourself."
- "What a well-functioning sect."
- "Have all the Mount Hua guys gone mad together?"
- "It means Mount Hua looks down on the Tang Clan."
- "Mount Hua seems to be an impressive sect."
- "To dare to block the Tang Clan just to protect one disciple."
- "Are you saying you can truly handle this matter?"
- "Mount Hua does not calculate when it comes to protecting its disciples. It is clear what must be prioritized."
- "It seems the Tang Clan is not the same."
- "And even though it is unlikely, even if this matter causes Mount Hua's downfall, none of Mount Hua's disciples will blame me."
- "That is Mount Hua."
- "...I would blame you?"
- "They will."
- "Haha, you're going too far alone."
- "Ahh~ Haha, those damned bastards can't keep their mouths shut even now..."
- "...But seriously... Why is the elder fighting? Hmm...?"
- "You've been stepping in since earlier, but isn't this Senior Brother Jogal's matter?"
- "We know Elder has ambitions in that direction, and you've shown off enough, so shouldn't Senior Brother Jogal get a chance to shine?"
- "It's been a while since I met my parents. What on earth does that guy think of the Tang Clan?"
- "Even experienced masters struggle against the Tang Clan, known for their poisons and hidden weapons. Their martial arts are so dangerous that a very small mistake could be fatal."
- "You want to send Jogal, who has little real combat experience, into such a fight?"
- "...Wouldn't that be too dangerous?"
- "It's fine~ It's fine! They say a tiger raises its cubs by throwing them off a cliff."
- "That's why those in higher positions are like that."
- "I realized in the village that coddling and protecting someone isn't always helpful."
- "If you do everything for them under the pretense of protecting them, you're robbing them of their experience and opportunities."
- "Does Elder think Senior Brother Jogal looks that weak?"
- "Absolutely not. At least not to those guys."
- "A clear belief in Jogal... I definitely... might have had some vague distrust towards Jogal..."
- "I can't lose!"
- "After how hard I trained him!"
- "If he hadn't added that last part, I might have been a bit moved."
- "Isn't that right, Senior Brother?"
- "Cheongmyeong..."
- "If that guy steps in, this matter might be resolved easily."
- "It will end~"
- "But until when...?"
- "You can't just hope for everything to be easily resolved by hiding behind that guy forever..."
- "I don't want to be a burden to him at all."
- "If I had thought that way from the beginning, I wouldn't have joined this expedition."
- "I know I can't match you right now."
- "But I want to be helpful at least."
- "I've decided."
- "I'll fight."
- "I won't lose."
- "This isn't that kind of problem."
- "This is a problem between me and the Tang Clan, so I have to solve it."
- "That's all."
- "Elder."
- "I understand your intentions well, Elder."
- "But this is something I must resolve."
- "...Brother."
- "... Can you do it?"
- "I am also a disciple of Mount Hua."
- "Yes!"
- "... Therefore, it is only right that I step forward."
- "...How dare you..."
- "That's... the Green Leather Gloves!!"
- "Wearing those gloves is a signal that he will use poison and a warning that there will be no mercy in the fight...!!"
- "No, I must stop this...!! Brother is in danger!!"
- "S, Sir Tang... this matter is... Father!"
- "...Brother...?"
- "This is not only Senior Brother's matter but also Mount Hua's matter."
- "Please trust me... and wait."
- "...The Tang Clan."
- "At one time, the name of the Tang Clan was a symbol of fear and terror to me, like an insurmountable wall."
- "Since I was born as a child of the noble families of Sichuan, the Tang Clan has always loomed over me like a stereotype."
- "But now it's different. What have I gained from Mount Hua? It's too much to explain with words."
- "So I have no choice but to show you with this sword."
2024.05.15 21:19 Al3x11113 Respect de la vie des animaux
 | Imaginez un futur où nous respectons la vie de tous les animaux. Dans ce futur, les abattoirs sont devenus obsolètes, transformés en musées qui témoignent de notre évolution. submitted by Al3x11113 to u/Al3x11113 [link] [comments] La définition de l'esclavage est la suivante: "institution par laquelle on est la propriété de quelqu'un d'autre". Les animaux sont encore considérés comme la propriété privée de quelqu'un. Ils sont donc esclaves. Nous nous devons de construire une société qui protège politiquement les intérêts de tous les êtres sentients. Les animaux ont un intérêt à vivre leur vie la plus longue et la plus heureuse possible. Notre société doit protéger cet intérêt. Respecter le droit inhérent à la liberté pour tous les êtres, y compris les animaux, est le reflet de nos valeurs les plus profondes. Lorsque les animaux sont enfermés de force dans des camions et transportés contre leur gré vers des abattoirs, où on leur inflige la mort, cela contredit clairement ces valeurs. Chaque acte contre leur volonté mine la liberté que nous chérissons tant. Ainsi, pour véritablement honorer et préserver le principe de liberté pour tous, il devient impératif de fermer les abattoirs. Rejoignez-nous dans la lutte pour la liberté, non seulement pour certains, mais pour tous. Les principes de non-violence et de protection des vulnérables de notre société exigent que nous mettions fin aux pratiques barbares des abattoirs, où d'innombrables animaux innocents sont tués quotidiennement malgré l'existence d'alternatives végétales viables et humaines. En alignant nos pratiques sociales sur nos principes, nous pouvons transformer les abattoirs, de symboles d'injustice en vestiges d'un passé moins éclairé. C'est pourquoi l'acte de tuer des animaux pour de simples habitudes alimentaires doit être considéré comme une infraction et sanctionné par une amende. (Texte sous copyleft) |
2024.05.15 21:16 Ok-Bee-3125 AITA for not talking to my MIL?
So, my (23f) partner (26M) and I have a daughter. Her birthday was in April and my in-laws have a beautiful home with a lot of space so they offered their house for the birthday. I kind of didn’t want to do it there because I know they tend to stress and I didn’t want for them to feel uncomfortable or that they needed to do anything. Besides the house they covered the expenses of the tent, chairs and tables voluntarily and I was very grateful but again, didn’t want to bother them with anything so I told my partner to pay them and he said it’s okay, his mom said to not worry. 2 weeks before the birthday I started making the decorations, I diy-ed most of the decorations with my mom’s cousin because she works as a event decorator part time and she offered to help, I just had to cover the expenses of the materials. I also reserved a kids playground with a bouncy house, a flower bouquet cart for my friends to make their own bouquets, bought the cakes and asked my sister’s boyfriend if he could make pizza for everyone and I would pay him. At the end he couldn’t make all the pizzas we agreed on so he made half as a gift because the person that was going to make the pizzas couldn’t make it and I didn’t want him to not enjoy the birthday.
Day before the birthday I’m taking everything to my in-laws because they live about an hour away and I had a lot of decorations to set up. I get up early, leave my partner at work and go back to my house to set up everything, by myself with my baby. I live in an apartment so it was approximately 10 elevator trips with my hands full and the car seat. I was getting a bit agitated. I get to the house and start prepping everything and go back to get the rest of the decorations. When I was on my way back, I called MIL to tell her that we were going to eat at night to celebrate my daughter’s birthday with just my parents and them so it would be something close. She said she couldn’t come because she was very tired and exhausted from cleaning and not being able to sleep (understandable), I tell my partner and he said “whatever, you know how they are” (for his birthday they didn’t show up because she was too tired and he was very disappointed). This has happened a couple of times now. After I called him, MIL called him and started asking how could I plan a birthday before the birthday with everything that still had to be done, but she didn’t mention anything to me when I called her. I texted her very calmly that i had everything covered, but if she considered there was anything else that i had to do before the BDay that she should let me know. No answer. When I returned with the decorations she came in the room i was and didn’t even talk to me, just took my daughter and left. After 3 I had to leave to pick up something, I left and then received a text from the person that his wife had to go to the hospital because she was pregnant and was feeling som pain so the thing I needed to pick up had to wait till next morning. The thing is that this made me lat and change all my plans for saturday morning. It was a flower stand that needed to be prepared the day before.
The morning of the birthday I go to my dad’s house to get his truck because my partner had to go pick up some things before the birthday and I had to pick up the mentioned banner and the cake. My mom’s cousin, the decorator, arrived at 9 at my in laws nobody opened the front gate for 30 minutes, MIL was called 4 times. After she entered nobody received her to tell her where I left her everything or point her to the gazebo where the birthday would take place. I arrive there at 11 and nobody had even offered her a glass of water. When I asked my partner what was going on he said his mom was mad because he arrived late and they had already done everything else (because she didn’t know everything that we had to do that morning and weeks prior). At 1pm my partner asked MIL if she could watch my baby while I finished decorating and she said she was busy so she couldn’t, which turned out to be a lie because I went to the house and she was seating on the couch talking to her mom. At 2 I still hadn’t finished everything and people were arriving. I went to the house and my partner was arguing with his mom because the gate had to be opened every time someone arrived and he wanted to leave it opened, she told him that there were some stray dogs that were entering and she didn’t want them to come in. I was convinced it was a lie but I let it go. He asked THRICE and the third time they started yelling and I was officially mad, I told him to let it go and just try to enjoy the d The birthday ran smoothly, some comments from MIL saying that I was the one that didn’t want to change my daughter’s clothes (it was very hot).
We stayed there to clean everything the day after and we had two friends helping us. They literally never left the room because they didn’t want to talk to us. We offered to buy them food and they rejected. We cleaned everything and left at 5pm. We never saw them and they never even saw their granddaughter which they don’t bother to visit, they see (or saw) her when I told my partner that we should visit them. My partner said she was probably mad because I did most of the birthday decor and planning very differently than she normally does and maybe more because everyone was saying how amazing everything turned out. I was very happy that my baby had a great birthday.
Mother’s day came and we went to their house and I was very quiet, obviously I didn’t feel welcomed after everything that happened. She asked my partner why I was being so difficult and he explained what I didn’t feel comfortable and everything and then she proceeded to tell him that we had to understand that we were wrong for arriving late to the birthday and we should’ve known better. Sorry for the long post.
submitted by Ok-Bee-3125 to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
Day before the birthday I’m taking everything to my in-laws because they live about an hour away and I had a lot of decorations to set up. I get up early, leave my partner at work and go back to my house to set up everything, by myself with my baby. I live in an apartment so it was approximately 10 elevator trips with my hands full and the car seat. I was getting a bit agitated. I get to the house and start prepping everything and go back to get the rest of the decorations. When I was on my way back, I called MIL to tell her that we were going to eat at night to celebrate my daughter’s birthday with just my parents and them so it would be something close. She said she couldn’t come because she was very tired and exhausted from cleaning and not being able to sleep (understandable), I tell my partner and he said “whatever, you know how they are” (for his birthday they didn’t show up because she was too tired and he was very disappointed). This has happened a couple of times now. After I called him, MIL called him and started asking how could I plan a birthday before the birthday with everything that still had to be done, but she didn’t mention anything to me when I called her. I texted her very calmly that i had everything covered, but if she considered there was anything else that i had to do before the BDay that she should let me know. No answer. When I returned with the decorations she came in the room i was and didn’t even talk to me, just took my daughter and left. After 3 I had to leave to pick up something, I left and then received a text from the person that his wife had to go to the hospital because she was pregnant and was feeling som pain so the thing I needed to pick up had to wait till next morning. The thing is that this made me lat and change all my plans for saturday morning. It was a flower stand that needed to be prepared the day before.
The morning of the birthday I go to my dad’s house to get his truck because my partner had to go pick up some things before the birthday and I had to pick up the mentioned banner and the cake. My mom’s cousin, the decorator, arrived at 9 at my in laws nobody opened the front gate for 30 minutes, MIL was called 4 times. After she entered nobody received her to tell her where I left her everything or point her to the gazebo where the birthday would take place. I arrive there at 11 and nobody had even offered her a glass of water. When I asked my partner what was going on he said his mom was mad because he arrived late and they had already done everything else (because she didn’t know everything that we had to do that morning and weeks prior). At 1pm my partner asked MIL if she could watch my baby while I finished decorating and she said she was busy so she couldn’t, which turned out to be a lie because I went to the house and she was seating on the couch talking to her mom. At 2 I still hadn’t finished everything and people were arriving. I went to the house and my partner was arguing with his mom because the gate had to be opened every time someone arrived and he wanted to leave it opened, she told him that there were some stray dogs that were entering and she didn’t want them to come in. I was convinced it was a lie but I let it go. He asked THRICE and the third time they started yelling and I was officially mad, I told him to let it go and just try to enjoy the d The birthday ran smoothly, some comments from MIL saying that I was the one that didn’t want to change my daughter’s clothes (it was very hot).
We stayed there to clean everything the day after and we had two friends helping us. They literally never left the room because they didn’t want to talk to us. We offered to buy them food and they rejected. We cleaned everything and left at 5pm. We never saw them and they never even saw their granddaughter which they don’t bother to visit, they see (or saw) her when I told my partner that we should visit them. My partner said she was probably mad because I did most of the birthday decor and planning very differently than she normally does and maybe more because everyone was saying how amazing everything turned out. I was very happy that my baby had a great birthday.
Mother’s day came and we went to their house and I was very quiet, obviously I didn’t feel welcomed after everything that happened. She asked my partner why I was being so difficult and he explained what I didn’t feel comfortable and everything and then she proceeded to tell him that we had to understand that we were wrong for arriving late to the birthday and we should’ve known better. Sorry for the long post.
2024.05.15 20:58 XxLockdownZxX My soon to be MIL is making me question how I live my life
Me and my girlfriend are going to get married in about 3 months from now. She's my whole world and I couldn't imagine going through life without her. Her mother however is the bane of my current life...
We're currently renovating our house (kitching, garden etc) and my girlfriend's father is a handyman who can litteraly do anything. So he often comes to help us out which we appreciate very much. The bad thing, whenever her father comes around so does her mother. And she doesn't help. While we're sweating our ass of carrying stuff around she sits on the couch watcing TV or playing games on her phone like she's in her own house. This bothers me so much!
But it's worse. She likes to have everything her way. If it were up to here she'd have the key to our house and would be sitting here every single day. There would be a camera in oir living room so she could see everything we do. She always tells my girlfriend what to do and how to act even though we're both adults (we're both 26 years old). On birthdays at out place she acts like she's the host, just going into the basement to het drinks and opening all drawers to get stuff for OUR guests. It's infuriating!
Our wedding is in August and I know for a fact that the whole party after the ceremony will be controlled by her. She'll try to entertain the guests, serve them food and drinks, be the "host" of the evening. When the catering arrives and the cake she'll be the one taking it, inspecting it, be the first one to taste it and currate it. I hate to say it, but I dread my own wedding day just because of that. It's supposed to be our day not her day.
Lately it's bothering me immensely. Even to limits that I think I might have autism. I don't sleep well, I can't concentrate at work and I get incredibly confused, mad and cranky. The slightest hint of MIL in a conversation or text message from my girlfriend gets me so insanely mad! I've told my girlfriend about this and have also told her I have the feeling that there's more to it and that I might want to get myself checked out at a doctor or a psychologist. I have an immensely strong hate towards my future MIL and I can't stop it no matter what I do or what she does. What can I do? Maybe I'm overreacting a lot but I can't get over these feelings and I'm doubting myself every single day. I'm so scared it will destroy my relationship in the future.
submitted by XxLockdownZxX to JUSTNOMIL [link] [comments]
We're currently renovating our house (kitching, garden etc) and my girlfriend's father is a handyman who can litteraly do anything. So he often comes to help us out which we appreciate very much. The bad thing, whenever her father comes around so does her mother. And she doesn't help. While we're sweating our ass of carrying stuff around she sits on the couch watcing TV or playing games on her phone like she's in her own house. This bothers me so much!
But it's worse. She likes to have everything her way. If it were up to here she'd have the key to our house and would be sitting here every single day. There would be a camera in oir living room so she could see everything we do. She always tells my girlfriend what to do and how to act even though we're both adults (we're both 26 years old). On birthdays at out place she acts like she's the host, just going into the basement to het drinks and opening all drawers to get stuff for OUR guests. It's infuriating!
Our wedding is in August and I know for a fact that the whole party after the ceremony will be controlled by her. She'll try to entertain the guests, serve them food and drinks, be the "host" of the evening. When the catering arrives and the cake she'll be the one taking it, inspecting it, be the first one to taste it and currate it. I hate to say it, but I dread my own wedding day just because of that. It's supposed to be our day not her day.
Lately it's bothering me immensely. Even to limits that I think I might have autism. I don't sleep well, I can't concentrate at work and I get incredibly confused, mad and cranky. The slightest hint of MIL in a conversation or text message from my girlfriend gets me so insanely mad! I've told my girlfriend about this and have also told her I have the feeling that there's more to it and that I might want to get myself checked out at a doctor or a psychologist. I have an immensely strong hate towards my future MIL and I can't stop it no matter what I do or what she does. What can I do? Maybe I'm overreacting a lot but I can't get over these feelings and I'm doubting myself every single day. I'm so scared it will destroy my relationship in the future.
2024.05.15 20:13 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think
When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
submitted by Weathers_Writing to weatherswriting [link] [comments]
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
2024.05.15 20:09 Weathers_Writing I think God might be real, just not in the way you think
When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
submitted by Weathers_Writing to nosleep [link] [comments]
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*
2024.05.15 19:24 JemimaPrima Birthday blues…
I get sad every year on my birthday. For me the day symbolizes the question: ‘Do people care about me enough to write a text to simply wish me a happy birthday?’
It was yesterday and even tho there was a lot of people who texted me and wished me a happy birthday irl I got hyperfixated on the people who didn’t text me; There was two of my good friends whom I heard nothing from, and I have had them in my life for 10 years. It kinda ruined the day. On my fb wall there are also fewer and fewer every year who makes a post on my wall. It bothers me a lot and makes me wonder if there is anything wrong with me and it makes me anxious and nervous.
I know there can be many reasons why I didn’t get a text from my good friends, maybe they forgot, where busy etc… But it doesn’t make me feel better. I’m just so disappointed and sad and it almost makes me reconsider my friendship with them.
Please don’t make comments about me being dramatic - I’m a SO 4w5, so life can be extra hard sometimes..
Anyone who can relate to my thoughts and feelings?
submitted by JemimaPrima to infp [link] [comments]
It was yesterday and even tho there was a lot of people who texted me and wished me a happy birthday irl I got hyperfixated on the people who didn’t text me; There was two of my good friends whom I heard nothing from, and I have had them in my life for 10 years. It kinda ruined the day. On my fb wall there are also fewer and fewer every year who makes a post on my wall. It bothers me a lot and makes me wonder if there is anything wrong with me and it makes me anxious and nervous.
I know there can be many reasons why I didn’t get a text from my good friends, maybe they forgot, where busy etc… But it doesn’t make me feel better. I’m just so disappointed and sad and it almost makes me reconsider my friendship with them.
Please don’t make comments about me being dramatic - I’m a SO 4w5, so life can be extra hard sometimes..
Anyone who can relate to my thoughts and feelings?
2024.05.15 19:18 ThrowRAg1 I (M21) feel betrayed after finding out a girl(F20?) I've been talking to for months is deceptive about her age, is this still worth pursuing?
I've been talking to a girl in my class throughout the past semester, and we usually get food/study together after class. She's currently studying abroad (Jan-Dec 2024) and we got along very well. She knows my friends/vice versa and we've gotten pretty close. I was waiting for the semester to start to end before taking things further so we could get closeavoid any awkwardness if she rejected me.
Due to this, I never got around to asking for her social media (we usually talked through text) until the end of the semester. When I got her instagram, I saw on her highlights a birthday story with candles for '17' on the cake with the caption 'dancing queen, 17!' The post was from June 2023, which made me thing she's still 17. I was so confused, because I didn't think a 17 year old could study abroad or even graduate high school yet.
In class, I asked her if she's 17 and she laughed and basically said "no, haha. I was scared to be 20 so I celebrated my 20th birthday with 17's candles. If I start lying about my age sooner it will help me when I get older haha." She even showed me her id which showed her birthday to be in June but her age as 20. I laughed it off, but when I asked her friends, they all thought she was 17 (due to instagram) and had never talked about her age with her before.
I get not wanting to get older at like 30 but I found it super weird to do a whole birthday and instagram story about it. Wouldn't it be weird for the people who already know her real age? This whole thing is confusing, weird and really changed the way I see her. We both really seem to like each other but I don't know if this one thing is enough to feel weirded out. I feel pretty disappointed because it really made me second guess everything and I'm not sure if I want to pursue this further.
submitted by ThrowRAg1 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
Due to this, I never got around to asking for her social media (we usually talked through text) until the end of the semester. When I got her instagram, I saw on her highlights a birthday story with candles for '17' on the cake with the caption 'dancing queen, 17!' The post was from June 2023, which made me thing she's still 17. I was so confused, because I didn't think a 17 year old could study abroad or even graduate high school yet.
In class, I asked her if she's 17 and she laughed and basically said "no, haha. I was scared to be 20 so I celebrated my 20th birthday with 17's candles. If I start lying about my age sooner it will help me when I get older haha." She even showed me her id which showed her birthday to be in June but her age as 20. I laughed it off, but when I asked her friends, they all thought she was 17 (due to instagram) and had never talked about her age with her before.
I get not wanting to get older at like 30 but I found it super weird to do a whole birthday and instagram story about it. Wouldn't it be weird for the people who already know her real age? This whole thing is confusing, weird and really changed the way I see her. We both really seem to like each other but I don't know if this one thing is enough to feel weirded out. I feel pretty disappointed because it really made me second guess everything and I'm not sure if I want to pursue this further.
2024.05.15 19:13 duckgirl1997 Are we AHs for not putting towards my Grandmothers Birthday Party
so this year is my Grandmother's 85th year and although she is sadly declining with dementia and other health conditions it is a milestone worth celebrating
My uncle and Aunt (my mums younger siblings) text my mother saying that they had organised a small get together for my nan as its her birthday soon and we could come up at any point after 1 this was with a week to go (and on my mums birthday) we were away at the time so didn't really respond as phone signal wasn't the best.
the day after we return we were out getting stuff we needed after being away like groceries and my mobile rings. Its my uncle.
he says "hello OP" but the way he says it is over exaggerated as i don't normally answer my phone (to my aunt) as she usually just wants to scream at me (she is very delulu and self intitled ) (she had a go at my mum and sister for not responding to a text I had responded to ) he makes small talk about our week away asking things like when we got back.
he then proceeds to talk about my nans birthday and what they had planned. and mentions "oh we thought we could all put in £50 (my mum, him, and Aunt)" at this point i passed my phone to my mum. he reiterated the 50 quid each to pay for the food and the cake to which my mum says she cant afford it not after a week away. and my mum also said she was working so wouldn't be up till after the party was over. to which my uncle responded "well there are others here"
my aunt was in the background saying the same sort of things basically telling him what to say so we just hung up and got on with our day.
my mum doesn't actually object to paying but
1) we were invited up as guests. who asks guests to pay.
2) we had no idea this was happening until the text and had no say in anything to do with planning
3) my uncle is getting the food from his work and although the platters are ££ with his employee discount there is no way the food and a cake would come to £150 (its all pre-made processed factory sandwiches)
4) besides it will all be done to cater my aunts gluten free diet there will literally be nothing any of us like
5) My aunt as i said is seriously delulu. a week before we went away she came to ours asking mums plans for middle of next year as they (aunt and uncle) were going to a wedding (probs my cousins) so could she look after my nan and they also wanted give us a code for my nans and then spoke to me like i was 3 (not 29) to explain, when i said i heard its in my phone she called me rude
its not that we object but they just expect us to fall in with what they say no matter what.
submitted by duckgirl1997 to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
My uncle and Aunt (my mums younger siblings) text my mother saying that they had organised a small get together for my nan as its her birthday soon and we could come up at any point after 1 this was with a week to go (and on my mums birthday) we were away at the time so didn't really respond as phone signal wasn't the best.
the day after we return we were out getting stuff we needed after being away like groceries and my mobile rings. Its my uncle.
he says "hello OP" but the way he says it is over exaggerated as i don't normally answer my phone (to my aunt) as she usually just wants to scream at me (she is very delulu and self intitled ) (she had a go at my mum and sister for not responding to a text I had responded to ) he makes small talk about our week away asking things like when we got back.
he then proceeds to talk about my nans birthday and what they had planned. and mentions "oh we thought we could all put in £50 (my mum, him, and Aunt)" at this point i passed my phone to my mum. he reiterated the 50 quid each to pay for the food and the cake to which my mum says she cant afford it not after a week away. and my mum also said she was working so wouldn't be up till after the party was over. to which my uncle responded "well there are others here"
my aunt was in the background saying the same sort of things basically telling him what to say so we just hung up and got on with our day.
my mum doesn't actually object to paying but
1) we were invited up as guests. who asks guests to pay.
2) we had no idea this was happening until the text and had no say in anything to do with planning
3) my uncle is getting the food from his work and although the platters are ££ with his employee discount there is no way the food and a cake would come to £150 (its all pre-made processed factory sandwiches)
4) besides it will all be done to cater my aunts gluten free diet there will literally be nothing any of us like
5) My aunt as i said is seriously delulu. a week before we went away she came to ours asking mums plans for middle of next year as they (aunt and uncle) were going to a wedding (probs my cousins) so could she look after my nan and they also wanted give us a code for my nans and then spoke to me like i was 3 (not 29) to explain, when i said i heard its in my phone she called me rude
its not that we object but they just expect us to fall in with what they say no matter what.
2024.05.15 18:59 Kwanciarz Small review: my first split - Sofle low profile
 | I've been using the Sofle as my main and only keyboard for six months now. I bought it from FalbaTech, presoldered but without keycaps and a case. At the time, I couldn't afford a case and keycaps, so I designed and printed case and adapter from choc to MX myself. The keycaps are salvaged from my previous keyboard. Both designs are crude and made with material usage and ease of print in mind, rather than quality. I've now ordered the official FalbaTech wooden case and can't wait to give this keyboard the upgrade it deserves. submitted by Kwanciarz to ErgoMechKeyboards [link] [comments] I use Sofle for programming, gaming and everything else. For me it was straight upgrade in every usecase. As this is my first split, many things were suprising for me. Programming Using layers has really helped my wrists, especially the navigation layer. For Vim commands, everything works fine. Switching numbers and symbols like a toggle layer would be great, and I will experiment with it in the near future. System and IntelliJ shortcuts need to be learned again, but that is expected. Gaming At first, I was worried that it wouldn't be as comfortable to game on as a normal keyboard. Oh, how wrong I was. The thumb cluster is super useful. Changing from WASD to ESDF is a one-way journey. The small finger can access eight keys while still having full control over movement. It feels great. Everyday use I can finally plug the keyboard into my smartphone. This keyboard fits in a bigger pocket. With this setup, I can do some basic programming exercises on my phone while traveling using Termux and Neovim. Knobs are used to control volume, toggle mute on discord, and scroll text. Conclusion I moved from a standard full-size keyboard to a split 52-key ergo keyboard and I haven't looked back even once. For me, this amount of keys is large enough to feel familiar and small enough to teach how layers can be useful. For the last six months, I've tweaked my layout using Via. Now, I want to go deeper and customize the OLED screens. 10/10 Hello new hobby, hello community! Thanks FalbaTech for great introduction to custom keyboards. https://preview.redd.it/hlib73bufm0d1.jpg?width=4000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=63e211b35912bf1a018e6d44029a0561f4b79b07 https://preview.redd.it/wk0q53bufm0d1.jpg?width=4000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=987a87757417db2b8afc66a4c5725583aee66591 |
2024.05.15 18:10 adulting4kids Wisdom of Solomon Deep Dive Study
As I mentioned in a post earlier today, I have decided to embark on the religious studies journey by preparing a special study guided series of self paced dynamic verse by verse incredibly high level of studies in secular and spiritual development of the world cultural and religious traditions that's going to include numerous types of sources texts from every single type of practice I can unearth thanks for the Good old Google and Bing research resources.
This started with the Gnostic texts and the Dead Sea Scrolls with the Gospel of Thomas and the Book of Enoch. It has been a few weeks and I have literally gotten so far ahead of myself that it seems like I am overdue and overwhelmed by such an amazing task. This is why I am not sure if I should really be posting it but if not here, I would not know where to ask for advice and feedback and guidance and editing and moral support and even research assistance and input from anyone whose willing to assist in any capacity.
There's nothing to do except process the questions and help with the commentary and limitations of this format and the hope that there might be at least ONE human being that's interested in similar things that's willing to help in whatever capacity they can....
I had plans of trying to make it easier for everyone by trying to finish at least one full text before posting others, but I don't think it's possible because I keep going from different ones back to these then to those then back to that regardless of the fact that I am confused and staring to get burned out before I get started....
So I have changed my mind about finishing up one to present for the group and will simply be posting some daily stuff for your input and feedback. I'm not trying to make you convert to any faith as these guides will cover every single type of practice eventually.
Today is Wisdom of Solomon day so I have to unpack my own stuff here and I have no real formal plans yet for how to present it all, that is based solely on the fact that I am also doing this for my own spiritual growth and development and so there's no formal plans for publication as a project yet....
Anyway this is a basic overview of how I have been working on my project and I love the fact that you still might be reading after that long winded meandering message!
WISDOM OF SOLOMON
Wisdom of Solomon Outline:
Chapter 1, Verse 1:
"Love righteousness, you rulers of the earth. Think of the Lord with goodness, and seek him with sincerity of heart."
Themes:
Reflect on a historical or contemporary leader who exemplifies the principles outlined in this verse. Discuss how their commitment to righteousness and sincere seeking of higher principles impacted their leadership.
🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫 Chapter 1, Verse 2:
"For he will be found by those who do not put him to the test, and manifests himself to those who do not distrust him."
Themes:
Explore historical or biblical narratives where individuals either demonstrated unwavering trust in the divine or faced challenges due to testing God. Discuss the outcomes and lessons learned from these narratives.
🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃 Chapter 1, Verse 3:
"For perverse thoughts separate people from God, and when his power is tested, it exposes the foolish."
Themes:
Explore historical or literary examples where characters or individuals faced consequences due to perverse thoughts or the testing of authority. Discuss the broader moral lessons conveyed in these narratives. 🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄
Chapter 1, Verse 4:
"For wisdom will not enter a deceitful soul, nor dwell in a body enslaved to sin."
Themes:
Analyze a historical or literary character who experienced a transformation from deceitful or sinful behavior to a more virtuous state. Discuss the role of wisdom in this transformation and the impact on the character's life.
🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️
Chapter 1, Verse 5: "For the holy spirit of discipline will flee deceit and will leave deceitful thoughts behind, and will be ashamed at the approach of unrighteousness."
Themes:
Explore religious or philosophical texts that discuss the concept of divine discipline and its role in guiding individuals towards righteousness. Discuss the similarities or differences with the Wisdom of Solomon.
I will stop here since it's already overwhelming long and I have been working today up to the end of Chapter One just with Wisdom of Solomon.
I will post the Book of Enoch stuff later on which is already much more in depth with the commentary and study materials and I think that it's coming along nicely. This is just beginning so I figured it was a good skeleton to illustrate where I start off then I will give a much better clue 🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️ to where it's headed later today when I can format the Enoch stuff for posting.
Thanks in advance for checking it out and please don't hesitate to repost in places that might help out in their own ways, even if it's to roast the hell out of me (no pun intended, if that's even a pun!)
submitted by adulting4kids to writingthruit [link] [comments]
This started with the Gnostic texts and the Dead Sea Scrolls with the Gospel of Thomas and the Book of Enoch. It has been a few weeks and I have literally gotten so far ahead of myself that it seems like I am overdue and overwhelmed by such an amazing task. This is why I am not sure if I should really be posting it but if not here, I would not know where to ask for advice and feedback and guidance and editing and moral support and even research assistance and input from anyone whose willing to assist in any capacity.
There's nothing to do except process the questions and help with the commentary and limitations of this format and the hope that there might be at least ONE human being that's interested in similar things that's willing to help in whatever capacity they can....
I had plans of trying to make it easier for everyone by trying to finish at least one full text before posting others, but I don't think it's possible because I keep going from different ones back to these then to those then back to that regardless of the fact that I am confused and staring to get burned out before I get started....
So I have changed my mind about finishing up one to present for the group and will simply be posting some daily stuff for your input and feedback. I'm not trying to make you convert to any faith as these guides will cover every single type of practice eventually.
Today is Wisdom of Solomon day so I have to unpack my own stuff here and I have no real formal plans yet for how to present it all, that is based solely on the fact that I am also doing this for my own spiritual growth and development and so there's no formal plans for publication as a project yet....
Anyway this is a basic overview of how I have been working on my project and I love the fact that you still might be reading after that long winded meandering message!
WISDOM OF SOLOMON
Wisdom of Solomon Outline:
- Introduction (Chapters 1-6):
- Addressing rulers and kings
- The pursuit and benefits of wisdom
- Reflections on divine wisdom
- Wisdom in History (Chapters 7-9):
- Solomon's request for wisdom
- Wisdom's role in various historical events
- Contemplation on divine attributes
- Wisdom and Idolatry (Chapters 10-11):
- God's guidance in history
- Consequences of idolatry
- Divine justice and mercy
- Divine Wisdom vs. Human Wisdom (Chapters 12-15):
- God's protection of Israel
- Contrasting divine wisdom with human folly
- Punishment for wrongdoing
- God's Just Providence (Chapters 16-19):
- God's interventions in history
- Divine providence and care for Israel
- Consequences of disobedience
- Wisdom as a Guide (Chapters 20-21):
- Moral lessons from history
- The role of wisdom in human life
- The contrast between the righteous and the wicked
- Call to Righteousness (Chapters 22-24):
- The importance of following wisdom
- Wisdom's divine origins
- The benefits of embracing wisdom
- Symbolism:
- Explore the symbolic meanings of key elements in the text, such as wisdom, righteousness, and folly.
- Analyze the metaphors used to convey deeper spiritual and moral truths.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- Investigate the historical context of the Wisdom of Solomon, considering the cultural and political milieu of the time.
- Examine secular perspectives on the text, noting its influence on philosophy and ethics beyond religious contexts.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- Uncover esoteric or hidden wisdom within the text, delving into allegorical interpretations and hidden meanings.
- Explore how esoteric knowledge is conveyed and its significance for those seeking deeper spiritual understanding.
- Theological Implications:
- Discuss the theological themes present in the Wisdom of Solomon, such as divine justice, mercy, and the nature of God.
- Examine how these theological concepts align or differ with other religious traditions and theological perspectives.
- Spiritual Development:
- Identify the types of individuals mentioned in the text and explore how their engagement with wisdom contributes to their spiritual development.
- Discuss the transformative journey depicted in the Wisdom of Solomon and its implications for readers seeking spiritual growth.
- Exercise: Analyze a specific passage from the Wisdom of Solomon, discussing its symbolism and how it relates to broader themes in the text.
- Activity: Compare a selected verse from the Wisdom of Solomon with a similar concept or teaching from a secular philosophical work.
- Reading: Explore relevant passages from apocryphal texts or the Dead Sea Scrolls to identify common themes with the Wisdom of Solomon.
- Example: Provide a case study of an individual or community applying the wisdom found in the text to navigate a moral or ethical dilemma.
Chapter 1, Verse 1:
"Love righteousness, you rulers of the earth. Think of the Lord with goodness, and seek him with sincerity of heart."
Themes:
- Symbolism:
- The call to "love righteousness" symbolizes the importance of moral and just leadership.
- "Seeking the Lord with sincerity" symbolizes a genuine and wholehearted pursuit of divine wisdom.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- The address to rulers reflects the historical context of addressing leaders, emphasizing the moral responsibilities of governance.
- The concept of seeking God's guidance resonates with broader ethical teachings in various cultural and philosophical traditions.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- The verse hints at esoteric wisdom by emphasizing the inner disposition of rulers and their connection to divine principles.
- Explore hidden meanings within the call to righteousness and sincere seeking of God.
- Theological Implications:
- The theological implications involve the relationship between righteousness and divine favor, highlighting the importance of ethical conduct.
- Consider how this aligns with or challenges theological perspectives from other religious traditions.
- Spiritual Development:
- Rulers are encouraged to grow spiritually by cultivating a love for righteousness, suggesting that moral development is integral to leadership.
- Reflect on how individuals in positions of authority can spiritually evolve through ethical governance.
Reflect on a historical or contemporary leader who exemplifies the principles outlined in this verse. Discuss how their commitment to righteousness and sincere seeking of higher principles impacted their leadership.
🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫 Chapter 1, Verse 2:
"For he will be found by those who do not put him to the test, and manifests himself to those who do not distrust him."
Themes:
- Symbolism:
- The idea that God is found by those "who do not put him to the test" symbolizes a call for genuine faith and trust.
- "Manifesting to those who do not distrust him" suggests the importance of a sincere and unwavering relationship with the divine.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- The notion of not putting God to the test reflects a biblical caution against demanding miraculous signs.
- Explore how this concept aligns with or differs from testing or seeking evidence in secular and philosophical contexts.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- The verse implies esoteric wisdom by emphasizing the subtleties of divine manifestation, which may require a certain disposition or spiritual state.
- Discuss the deeper meaning of finding God through trust and the absence of doubt.
- Theological Implications:
- The theological implication is a call for genuine faith and trust in God's presence.
- Consider theological discussions on faith, trust, and divine revelation within the context of different religious traditions.
- Spiritual Development:
- This verse suggests that spiritual development involves cultivating a trusting relationship with the divine, rather than testing or doubting.
- Reflect on how trust in the divine can contribute to an individual's spiritual journey.
Explore historical or biblical narratives where individuals either demonstrated unwavering trust in the divine or faced challenges due to testing God. Discuss the outcomes and lessons learned from these narratives.
🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃 Chapter 1, Verse 3:
"For perverse thoughts separate people from God, and when his power is tested, it exposes the foolish."
Themes:
- Symbolism:
- "Perverse thoughts" symbolize moral and spiritual deviation, highlighting the impact of one's inner disposition on the relationship with God.
- The testing of God's power symbolizes a lack of trust and reveals the foolishness of such attempts.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- Explore historical instances or secular examples where moral or perverse thoughts led to a separation from higher principles or values.
- Consider how the testing of authority or power is viewed in different historical and philosophical contexts.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- The verse implies esoteric wisdom by emphasizing the spiritual consequences of perverse thoughts and the folly of testing divine power.
- Delve into the hidden meanings of "separation from God" and the exposure of foolishness.
- Theological Implications:
- Theologically, the verse underscores the impact of moral choices on the relationship with the divine.
- Discuss theological perspectives on the consequences of moral deviation and the testing of God's power.
- Spiritual Development:
- This verse suggests that spiritual development involves guarding against perverse thoughts and avoiding attempts to test or challenge divine power.
- Reflect on how individuals can cultivate a mindset that fosters a closer relationship with the divine.
Explore historical or literary examples where characters or individuals faced consequences due to perverse thoughts or the testing of authority. Discuss the broader moral lessons conveyed in these narratives. 🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄
Chapter 1, Verse 4:
"For wisdom will not enter a deceitful soul, nor dwell in a body enslaved to sin."
Themes:
- Symbolism:
- "Deceitful soul" symbolizes insincerity and moral duplicity, suggesting that wisdom requires authenticity.
- The idea of wisdom not dwelling in a "body enslaved to sin" symbolizes the incompatibility of wisdom with a morally compromised state.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- Explore historical or secular perspectives on the relationship between wisdom and personal integrity.
- Consider how different cultures and philosophical traditions view the role of wisdom in virtuous living.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- The verse suggests esoteric wisdom by highlighting the spiritual prerequisites for the indwelling of wisdom.
- Reflect on the hidden qualities that make a soul receptive to wisdom and explore esoteric interpretations of the text.
- Theological Implications:
- Theologically, the verse emphasizes the alignment of the soul with moral principles as a condition for receiving wisdom.
- Discuss theological perspectives on the interplay between wisdom, virtue, and the state of the soul.
- Spiritual Development:
- This verse implies that spiritual development involves purifying the soul from deceit and sin to make it a suitable vessel for wisdom.
- Reflect on how individuals can actively work toward creating conditions for wisdom to flourish in their lives.
Analyze a historical or literary character who experienced a transformation from deceitful or sinful behavior to a more virtuous state. Discuss the role of wisdom in this transformation and the impact on the character's life.
🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️🛤️
Chapter 1, Verse 5: "For the holy spirit of discipline will flee deceit and will leave deceitful thoughts behind, and will be ashamed at the approach of unrighteousness."
Themes:
- Symbolism:
- "Holy spirit of discipline" symbolizes divine guidance and correction, emphasizing the transformative power of discipline.
- The departure of the holy spirit from deceitful thoughts symbolizes the incompatibility of divine guidance with moral compromise.
- Historical and Secular Context:
- Explore historical examples or secular perspectives on the role of discipline in personal and moral development.
- Consider how different cultures view the concept of a guiding and disciplining spirit.
- Esoteric Wisdom:
- The verse implies esoteric wisdom by linking discipline with the holy spirit and suggesting a spiritual transformation.
- Examine the deeper meanings of discipline and the spiritual consequences of deceit and unrighteousness.
- Theological Implications:
- Theologically, the verse underscores the role of the holy spirit in guiding individuals toward righteousness and away from deceit.
- Discuss theological perspectives on discipline, divine guidance, and the consequences of unrighteousness.
- Spiritual Development:
- This verse suggests that spiritual development involves embracing the discipline of the holy spirit and distancing oneself from deceit and unrighteousness.
- Reflect on how individuals can cultivate a receptive spirit for divine discipline in their journey of spiritual growth.
Explore religious or philosophical texts that discuss the concept of divine discipline and its role in guiding individuals towards righteousness. Discuss the similarities or differences with the Wisdom of Solomon.
I will stop here since it's already overwhelming long and I have been working today up to the end of Chapter One just with Wisdom of Solomon.
I will post the Book of Enoch stuff later on which is already much more in depth with the commentary and study materials and I think that it's coming along nicely. This is just beginning so I figured it was a good skeleton to illustrate where I start off then I will give a much better clue 🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️ to where it's headed later today when I can format the Enoch stuff for posting.
Thanks in advance for checking it out and please don't hesitate to repost in places that might help out in their own ways, even if it's to roast the hell out of me (no pun intended, if that's even a pun!)
2024.05.15 18:09 DrDoritosMD [Stargate and GATE Inspired] Manifest Fantasy Chapter 16: Power Play (Part 2)
Author’s Note:
Upvotes and comments go a long way in helping me reach a larger audience <3
First
Inside GB-2
“Huh, that wasn’t there before,” Ron said, pointing to a new hole in the wall – another passageway.
Henry turned to look where Ron pointed. Sure enough, there was a new doorway. It must’ve been a section that opened after they restored the power. “Huh, yeah. Let’s check it out.”
He went through, finding a short hallway past it and another room just beyond. Henry signaled for his team to form up, preparing to breach. As they stepped in, they found themselves in a brightly lit room filled with various types of furniture – empty pedestals, comfortable-looking single couches, and empty desks with opened cabinets.
Henry stepped further into the room, eyeing the oddly arranged furniture. The single couches were lined up in neat rows, all facing the same direction – towards the empty desks. It was like some sort of waiting room, but for what?
“Is it just me, or are these couches set up weird?” Isaac asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. “I mean, who lines up a bunch of single couches like this?”
“Strange, indeed,” Sera agreed. “They seem arranged as though for spectators, yet naught lies before them to behold.”
Like a movie theater, Henry thought. However, there weren’t any screens or holograms to watch. If there was a clue, it would probably be within the couches themselves.
Dr. Anderson approached one of the desks. “Perhaps this was some sort of office or workspace? The desks and cabinets certainly suggest that.”
Isaac then decided to touch one of the seats, eliciting no reaction. He pushed further, sitting down on one of them. At that point, the couch began to adjust its form to better suit Isaac’s envirosuit, as if able to optimize its comfort for the user. Then, a nozzle slowly stretched up from the seat’s headrest area, stopping just short of Isaac’s neck. “Woah!” Isaac bolted up as the nozzle bonked against his helmet.
“Neural interface, maybe?” Henry wondered. “I think we should leave this to the researchers… unless you wanna volunteer as a lab rat?”
“Hell nah,” Isaac vigorously declined the offer. “Hey, there isn’t anything on my helmet is there?”
Henry dusted off the back of Isaac’s helmet with his glove. “Nope, you’re clear. Just gotta hope it ain’t grey goo.”
He could see the dread and uncertainty through Isaac’s visor. Henry gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, think about it this way: if it really was grey goo, it would’ve gotten to us – or the Spiranids, for that matter – long ago. C’mon, let’s secure the next room.”
With a nod, Isaac fell in line behind Henry as they moved towards the doorway leading to the adjacent room. Peeking inside, it couldn’t be further from the rest of the room’s they had encountered so far; not at all what they could’ve possibly expected inside an ancient, high-tech alien facility. It was expansive, with a layout that reminded Henry of a high-end restaurant. Comfortable booths lined the walls, while tables of varying sizes filled the central space. The furniture looked almost human – perhaps even indistinguishably so.
The room was tinted with a soft, cozy yellow light. The warm and inviting ambiance felt soothing compared to the clinical feel of the previous areas. The lighting, combined with the plush booths and elegant tables, gave Henry a nostalgic impression.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryan remarked. “Think they got any cheesecakes?”
If it wasn’t for the alien decor and helping of sleek devices scattered around the room, Henry would’ve thought they were back home. Hell, there was even a bar, filled with exotic liquors that could probably fetch millions at an auction – or give them the trip of their lives. Beside it however was something unusual. Where he might’ve expected a path leading to the kitchen, he instead found a wall with a slight, rectangular-shaped recess that was just big enough for a tray.
He glanced at Isaac, who returned a knowing look. “Replicators,” Isaac said.
Henry smirked. “Personally, I’m partial to synthesizer, but to each their own.”
They gathered around the wall, which didn’t seem to respond to their presence. Taps on the wall didn’t seem to do anything, either. Henry considered probing further, but decided against it. “Alright, let’s not take any chances. We’ll make a note of this for the research teams to analyze later. Let’s keep looking around.”
Henry split apart from the others, pairing with Ron as they continued to walk around the room. They soon came across another doorway on the far side of the room, which opened up into a short corridor that led into multiple sets of doors. Each had a symbol on the wall beside the doors – one that depicted the basic figure of a person.
Ron pushed open one of the doors, taking a peek inside. “Looks like even the Gatebuilders needed restrooms.”
Finally! “Alright, let’s take a quick break here. Bring everyone else over.”
Thankfully, the amenities within were easily comparable to those of modern society. The toilet looked like a toilet, and the sink resembled a sink. Even in a space as mundane as this though, the Gatebuilder’s technology was evident: self-cleaning surfaces and enough technology to put a high-quality Japanese bidet toilet to shame. At least, that was just from the look of things. Henry didn’t think now would be the best time to check whether the restroom had ass-washing robots or not.
After a few minutes, Henry regrouped with the rest of the team around a central table in the ‘restaurant’. Dr. Anderson was already present, his archaeological kit opened and a spread of alien items organized on the table.
“Ah, Captain!” Dr. Anderson noticed him approaching. “We found cabinets that weren’t empty. Most of the artifacts appear to be personal effects.” He held up a necklace, emphasizing his point. “Jewelry, memorabilia, and some other artifacts that I – admittedly – can’t quite describe.”
Dr. Anderson pointed his pickup tool at a small disc laid out on a padded mat. “It hasn’t shown any active properties yet. It’s rather peculiar; it seems to be a solid disc. Lightweight, unblemished surface, no visible markings or etchings.”
“Have you tried touching it directly?” Henry asked.
Dr. Anderson frowned, manipulating the claws of his pickup tool. “Well, not directly.” Catching the implications in Henry’s query, he continued, “I’ve checked for radiation, toxins – all clear. While I’d advise against direct contact, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit curious.”
Henry nodded. Yeah, the Doc was probably right, but what was discovery without risk? He reached out and picked it up, rotating it in his hands. As his gloved fingers brushed against the surface, the disc suddenly emitted a soft glow.
Henry flinched slightly, almost dropping the disc in surprised. As he fumbled with it, the disc seemed to respond to his touch. Suddenly, a series of objects materialized on the table, appearing out of thin air.
“Oh, shit!” Ron exclaimed. “It just… spawned a bunch of stuff!”
Henry stared at the new items. Several containers, probably holding some kind of food, were still sealed tight and impossibly effective at insulating its contents. It was crazy to think that the food inside might still be hot after who knows how long.
Next to the containers was a bracelet. Possibly normal, possibly enchanted or integrated with technology they couldn’t hope to understand. There was also a bottle of some bright blue liquid – probably for drinking, but there was no way to be sure until Perdue tested it. And then there was the picture, showing a strikingly human couple, holding each other underneath a gorgeous alien sky. It reminded him of memorabilia people would sometimes keep in their wallets, though why humans were there was a mystery.
The last object the disc spat out was a thin, transparent sheet. Coincidentally, it was about the same size as a smartphone. If he had to guess, it probably had the same function as one, too.
“Incredible,” Dr. Anderson gawked at the items. “The disc must be the Gatebuilders’ version of a wallet, somehow using dimensional storage technology!”
“Akin to the Holding Bags,” Kelmithus noticed. He peered into his own Holding Bag, his expression indicating that he was connecting the dots. “Fascinating!”
Dr. Anderson then inspected the image, his face reflecting the same confusion Henry felt when he first saw it. While they continued to sort through the items, Henry explored the sheet further. The moment he tapped the screen, a holographic interface sprung into existence above it.
What he had initially thought was a simple hologram was something far more advanced, almost indistinguishable from reality itself. Almost instantly, they were surrounded by mountains and valleys, details springing up to form a realistic, three-dimensional map.
It was like a pocket holodeck. The only anchors the projection had were the various icons and pockets of text floating around – and the fact that the hologram was transparent enough for him to see his surroundings and his teammates.
Sera seemed to be the most shocked out of all of them. He couldn’t blame her. The sight was surprising enough for himself, who was even familiar with the concept through sci-fi; how much more alien would it seem to someone from – effectively – the past?
“I’ve not beheld such a spell… ever!” she exclaimed softly, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Hold on…” she continued, pointing to the distant peaks. “Why, yon mountain range! Does it not strike you as familiar?”
“Huh?” Ron squinted at it. “Does it?”
“No, yeah, it does!” Isaac said. “Shit, uh, is that the Ovinne Mountain Range?”
Henry brought up the file for the Ovinne Mountain Range on his visor, comparing it to the hologram. “Huh, yeah, it is. What’s a map of that doing in here, though?”
Dr. Anderson raised his hands in the air and spread them apart, mimicking a zoom. Lucky for them, the alien tech seemed to understand what they were going for. Now up close and in full detail, the Ovinne Mountain Range dominated the room. Somewhere in the mountains, an icon that looked like a pair of glasses sat right on top of a Gatebuilder tower, barely poking out of the mountainside.
Ryan crossed his arms as he scrutinized the hologram. “Is this what, Find My iPhone?”
“Hmm… rather likely,” Dr. Anderson agreed. “This device must be some sort of Locator.”
“Locator, huh?” Having this clue was an incredible breakthrough, but he noticed something else. “And right where the Ovinne Mountain Campaign’s supposedly taking place, at that.”
“Indeed, that you mention it, such alignment is surely noteworthy,” Kelmithus remarked. His voice took on a more excited note, “Be it fate, perhaps?”
Henry smirked. “Hah, you’re sounding a bit like Sera, now. Well, looks like fate’s telling us where to go next. Let’s pack this up and head back.”
They carefully stowed the various artifacts in their holding bags, Henry holding on to the Locator. They made their way back to the locker room where they first entered, everyone excited for the next step in their mission.
Henry stepped through the airlock first, emerging on the other side. As he did so, a faint sound caught his attention. It was distant, muffled, but definitely not a sound that belonged to this facility. He wanted to take off the envirosuit, but it seemed that had to wait.
Ron came through the airlock after him. “Bro, you think –”
Henry held up a hand, stopping him short. He raised his weapon, picking up on the ‘something’s not right’ vibe.
Activating his infrared vision and using the laser mounted on his M7, Henry searched for signs of thermal distortions, just like he’d done back at Duke Vancor’s mansion. Ron did the same. As the rest of the team emerged from the airlock, they quickly caught on to the situation. Without a word, they joined them in securing the room.
After clearing the locker room, Henry signaled to move on to the lab next door. It was just as empty as the locker room, but now the sounds were more audible, definitely coming from the hallway just outside. Instructing his team to hold still, he crept toward the doorway to investigate.
He peeked around the corner, and felt his stomach drop. There, in the main hallway, was a group of soldiers. They were decked out in distinctive black armor and cloaks. They had no identifiable markings or insignia on their armor, but it was obvious – these were Nobians.
Henry pulled back, returning to his team. “Contact outside. At least a dozen Nobians securing the hallway.”
Ron’s expression grew serious. “Shit. Any idea on their entry point?”
Henry positioned himself behind a desk, aiming his weapon at the doorway. “Probably the same way we came in.”
“Main corridor’s the only play, huh?” Ryan said.
The main hallway only had one line of sight, and it just happened to be the only way out. Well, the only one they could reasonably access. The facility probably had other exits or fancy teleporters, but they’d already scoured the area for the former and wouldn’t be able to figure out the latter.
“Dozen hostiles doesn’t seem like a lot,” Isaac pointed out, taking out another Black Hornet from his bag. “We’re still good on ammo, too.”
Ron shook his head. “Dozen? Yeah, a dozen that we can see.”
“Owens is right,” Henry agreed. “We can’t confirm their numbers outright. If I had to guess, it would probably be at least fifty. Manageable, but I’d prefer that to be our last resort.”
“How might we fare with a disturbance?” Sera offered.
Kelmithus gripped his staff. “I might conjure an echo of noise distant hence. It shan’t last, but it can afford us enough time for our escape.”
Kelmithus’ plan seemed like it could work, but only if the Nobians didn’t know they were here. “No,” Henry disagreed. “They’ve seen our MRAPs outside. We’d get surrounded.”
“How about negotiation?” Dr. Anderson suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.
“Negotiation? With the Nobians?” Kelmithus questioned.
They all knew what the Nobians were like. It really did come off as a ridiculous idea, but what if Dr. Anderson was right? The archaeologist defended himself, “I know, I know. However, we have yet to confirm their hostility, and it would not serve us well to initiate hostilities with the Nobians.”
Taking in the silence as contemplation, he continued, “If talks break down, we hold our ground here. It’s not ideal, but we’ll control the engagement area and prevent them from flanking us.”
Henry reviewed the situation again. 12 hostiles, but they should expect the worse, so at least 50 hostiles plus failed negotiations. Holding the only way out, they were likely spread out between the hallway, the cave system, and possibly even the forest outside. Dr. Anderson’s plan was solid, but he had a few minor qualms. In particular, holding the line meant possibly exhausting themselves in a battle of attrition.
“Alright. We’ll open with negotiations. I’m skeptical, but it's worth a shot. Should that fail, we can’t engage in a drawn-out conflict. We’ll disrupt their positions and quickly move to the cave outside.”
“Smoke grenades and flashbangs,” Ryan muttered.
“Affirmative,” Henry said, nodding in agreement. “If we can’t see them, we’ll level the playing field so they can’t see us.”
“Captain,” Kelmithus quickly interjected, “Bid me aid your efforts. I’ve insight enough to create fog. I’ve learned from our encounter with the Sentinel Lindwyrm.”
“You can replicate that heavy fog?” Ron asked.
Kelmithus held up his palm, producing an opaque puff of steam to prove his point. “Indeed so, Lieutenant. Adequately do these envirosuits shield us, that I might harness more extreme temperatures for more effective casting.”
Henry was impressed with how quickly the archmage grasped such a concept. “Good. Yen, get that drone into the cave. We’ll hold for updates.”
Yen nodded, carrying out Henry’s order silently. The drone’s feed directly streamed to their HUDs, and after a few minutes, Isaac looked up. “Done.”
Henry analyzed the data. They had visual confirmation of a dozen Nobians inside the facility itself and a staggering forty outside, both in the cave and around the cave entrance. It was an assumption, but there probably weren’t many cloaked soldiers past the hallway. He sighed; the worst-case scenario would have them facing a hundred men in total.
It was a challenge, but the drone’s intel granted them a critical tactical advantage. He analyzed his minimap, selecting and sharing a route with minimal enemy contact. “After clearing the facility’s entrance, we’ll proceed along the designated path. Upon exit, I’ll deploy a flare to signal our movement to the MRAPs for extraction. We will then rendezvous with Zulu-9 and coordinate with air support before re-engaging to secure the site.”
His team nodded, fully on board with the plan. He took a deep breath to steel himself before checking his watch – 16:24. “Alright, time to show ourselves.”
Letting his M7 sling over his chest, Henry prepared two flash grenades – one in each hand – before stepping out. With his team in tow, he moved to the center of the hallway, catching the attention of one of the Nobian patrols.
“Attention, Nobian forces! We request parley. I am Captain Donnager of Alpha Team, Tier 6 Adventurer. We are on an official quest sanctioned by the Adventurer’s Guild. We have no intention of hostilities and seek to discuss our presence and objectives to ensure mutual understanding.”
As Henry’s words echoed through the hallway, the Nobian soldiers snapped into action. He heard the sounds of bowstring being drawn taut and the rasp of metal as swords cleared their scabbards. His hands tightened around the flash grenades.
He kept his gaze steady, projecting a sense of calm; of confidence – enough to convince the Nobians that even outnumbered, he and his team were still no match for them. More soldiers joined the patrol, until all twelve of the previously identified Nobians were upon them. They kept their distance, but Henry could feel the tension boiling.
Just as the standoff seemed to reach a critical point, the air in front of them seemed to fold outward from itself, like watching the effects of gravitational lensing on light. A figure coalesced from the distortion – so this is what invisibility magic looked like.
The man was broad-shouldered and tall, seeing eye-to-eye with him, even despite the extra inches in height the envirosuit gave. As the last wisps of the cloaking magic faded away, Henry found himself staring into a pair of piercing gray eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul.
The newcomer had an angular face and was clad in black armor with a different sheen than the black armor of his comrades. Silver trimmings and an insignia emblazoned on his chestplate – a dagger through a swirl of mist – differentiated his status. A cloak of the same dark hue billowed behind him as he walked forward and drew his sword.
Keeping his sword to the side, he stopped a respectable ten meters away from Henry. “I am Carvus Alnect Virelius, Umber Vicearch of the Order of the Shadow.” He then pointed his sword at Henry, declaring, “Of desecrating sovereign Nobian territory, you stand accused.”
As Carvus spoke, more soldiers materialized alongside him, shimmering into existence as they dropped their cloaking spells. Henry had expected this to happen, but seeing it play out still sent a chill down his spine. How many more were still lying in wait?
The Vicearch kept his weapon on Henry, eyes narrowing. “Commander unto commander, I offer a choice: cede your Holding Bags, that secure passage may be granted unto you. Refuse, and you shall be declared as spies and enemies of the Nobian Empire, your lives forfeit to swift execution.”
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
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Next
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Upvotes and comments go a long way in helping me reach a larger audience <3
First
“Huh, that wasn’t there before,” Ron said, pointing to a new hole in the wall – another passageway.
Henry turned to look where Ron pointed. Sure enough, there was a new doorway. It must’ve been a section that opened after they restored the power. “Huh, yeah. Let’s check it out.”
He went through, finding a short hallway past it and another room just beyond. Henry signaled for his team to form up, preparing to breach. As they stepped in, they found themselves in a brightly lit room filled with various types of furniture – empty pedestals, comfortable-looking single couches, and empty desks with opened cabinets.
Henry stepped further into the room, eyeing the oddly arranged furniture. The single couches were lined up in neat rows, all facing the same direction – towards the empty desks. It was like some sort of waiting room, but for what?
“Is it just me, or are these couches set up weird?” Isaac asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. “I mean, who lines up a bunch of single couches like this?”
“Strange, indeed,” Sera agreed. “They seem arranged as though for spectators, yet naught lies before them to behold.”
Like a movie theater, Henry thought. However, there weren’t any screens or holograms to watch. If there was a clue, it would probably be within the couches themselves.
Dr. Anderson approached one of the desks. “Perhaps this was some sort of office or workspace? The desks and cabinets certainly suggest that.”
Isaac then decided to touch one of the seats, eliciting no reaction. He pushed further, sitting down on one of them. At that point, the couch began to adjust its form to better suit Isaac’s envirosuit, as if able to optimize its comfort for the user. Then, a nozzle slowly stretched up from the seat’s headrest area, stopping just short of Isaac’s neck. “Woah!” Isaac bolted up as the nozzle bonked against his helmet.
“Neural interface, maybe?” Henry wondered. “I think we should leave this to the researchers… unless you wanna volunteer as a lab rat?”
“Hell nah,” Isaac vigorously declined the offer. “Hey, there isn’t anything on my helmet is there?”
Henry dusted off the back of Isaac’s helmet with his glove. “Nope, you’re clear. Just gotta hope it ain’t grey goo.”
He could see the dread and uncertainty through Isaac’s visor. Henry gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, think about it this way: if it really was grey goo, it would’ve gotten to us – or the Spiranids, for that matter – long ago. C’mon, let’s secure the next room.”
With a nod, Isaac fell in line behind Henry as they moved towards the doorway leading to the adjacent room. Peeking inside, it couldn’t be further from the rest of the room’s they had encountered so far; not at all what they could’ve possibly expected inside an ancient, high-tech alien facility. It was expansive, with a layout that reminded Henry of a high-end restaurant. Comfortable booths lined the walls, while tables of varying sizes filled the central space. The furniture looked almost human – perhaps even indistinguishably so.
The room was tinted with a soft, cozy yellow light. The warm and inviting ambiance felt soothing compared to the clinical feel of the previous areas. The lighting, combined with the plush booths and elegant tables, gave Henry a nostalgic impression.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryan remarked. “Think they got any cheesecakes?”
If it wasn’t for the alien decor and helping of sleek devices scattered around the room, Henry would’ve thought they were back home. Hell, there was even a bar, filled with exotic liquors that could probably fetch millions at an auction – or give them the trip of their lives. Beside it however was something unusual. Where he might’ve expected a path leading to the kitchen, he instead found a wall with a slight, rectangular-shaped recess that was just big enough for a tray.
He glanced at Isaac, who returned a knowing look. “Replicators,” Isaac said.
Henry smirked. “Personally, I’m partial to synthesizer, but to each their own.”
They gathered around the wall, which didn’t seem to respond to their presence. Taps on the wall didn’t seem to do anything, either. Henry considered probing further, but decided against it. “Alright, let’s not take any chances. We’ll make a note of this for the research teams to analyze later. Let’s keep looking around.”
Henry split apart from the others, pairing with Ron as they continued to walk around the room. They soon came across another doorway on the far side of the room, which opened up into a short corridor that led into multiple sets of doors. Each had a symbol on the wall beside the doors – one that depicted the basic figure of a person.
Ron pushed open one of the doors, taking a peek inside. “Looks like even the Gatebuilders needed restrooms.”
Finally! “Alright, let’s take a quick break here. Bring everyone else over.”
Thankfully, the amenities within were easily comparable to those of modern society. The toilet looked like a toilet, and the sink resembled a sink. Even in a space as mundane as this though, the Gatebuilder’s technology was evident: self-cleaning surfaces and enough technology to put a high-quality Japanese bidet toilet to shame. At least, that was just from the look of things. Henry didn’t think now would be the best time to check whether the restroom had ass-washing robots or not.
After a few minutes, Henry regrouped with the rest of the team around a central table in the ‘restaurant’. Dr. Anderson was already present, his archaeological kit opened and a spread of alien items organized on the table.
“Ah, Captain!” Dr. Anderson noticed him approaching. “We found cabinets that weren’t empty. Most of the artifacts appear to be personal effects.” He held up a necklace, emphasizing his point. “Jewelry, memorabilia, and some other artifacts that I – admittedly – can’t quite describe.”
Dr. Anderson pointed his pickup tool at a small disc laid out on a padded mat. “It hasn’t shown any active properties yet. It’s rather peculiar; it seems to be a solid disc. Lightweight, unblemished surface, no visible markings or etchings.”
“Have you tried touching it directly?” Henry asked.
Dr. Anderson frowned, manipulating the claws of his pickup tool. “Well, not directly.” Catching the implications in Henry’s query, he continued, “I’ve checked for radiation, toxins – all clear. While I’d advise against direct contact, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit curious.”
Henry nodded. Yeah, the Doc was probably right, but what was discovery without risk? He reached out and picked it up, rotating it in his hands. As his gloved fingers brushed against the surface, the disc suddenly emitted a soft glow.
Henry flinched slightly, almost dropping the disc in surprised. As he fumbled with it, the disc seemed to respond to his touch. Suddenly, a series of objects materialized on the table, appearing out of thin air.
“Oh, shit!” Ron exclaimed. “It just… spawned a bunch of stuff!”
Henry stared at the new items. Several containers, probably holding some kind of food, were still sealed tight and impossibly effective at insulating its contents. It was crazy to think that the food inside might still be hot after who knows how long.
Next to the containers was a bracelet. Possibly normal, possibly enchanted or integrated with technology they couldn’t hope to understand. There was also a bottle of some bright blue liquid – probably for drinking, but there was no way to be sure until Perdue tested it. And then there was the picture, showing a strikingly human couple, holding each other underneath a gorgeous alien sky. It reminded him of memorabilia people would sometimes keep in their wallets, though why humans were there was a mystery.
The last object the disc spat out was a thin, transparent sheet. Coincidentally, it was about the same size as a smartphone. If he had to guess, it probably had the same function as one, too.
“Incredible,” Dr. Anderson gawked at the items. “The disc must be the Gatebuilders’ version of a wallet, somehow using dimensional storage technology!”
“Akin to the Holding Bags,” Kelmithus noticed. He peered into his own Holding Bag, his expression indicating that he was connecting the dots. “Fascinating!”
Dr. Anderson then inspected the image, his face reflecting the same confusion Henry felt when he first saw it. While they continued to sort through the items, Henry explored the sheet further. The moment he tapped the screen, a holographic interface sprung into existence above it.
What he had initially thought was a simple hologram was something far more advanced, almost indistinguishable from reality itself. Almost instantly, they were surrounded by mountains and valleys, details springing up to form a realistic, three-dimensional map.
It was like a pocket holodeck. The only anchors the projection had were the various icons and pockets of text floating around – and the fact that the hologram was transparent enough for him to see his surroundings and his teammates.
Sera seemed to be the most shocked out of all of them. He couldn’t blame her. The sight was surprising enough for himself, who was even familiar with the concept through sci-fi; how much more alien would it seem to someone from – effectively – the past?
“I’ve not beheld such a spell… ever!” she exclaimed softly, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Hold on…” she continued, pointing to the distant peaks. “Why, yon mountain range! Does it not strike you as familiar?”
“Huh?” Ron squinted at it. “Does it?”
“No, yeah, it does!” Isaac said. “Shit, uh, is that the Ovinne Mountain Range?”
Henry brought up the file for the Ovinne Mountain Range on his visor, comparing it to the hologram. “Huh, yeah, it is. What’s a map of that doing in here, though?”
Dr. Anderson raised his hands in the air and spread them apart, mimicking a zoom. Lucky for them, the alien tech seemed to understand what they were going for. Now up close and in full detail, the Ovinne Mountain Range dominated the room. Somewhere in the mountains, an icon that looked like a pair of glasses sat right on top of a Gatebuilder tower, barely poking out of the mountainside.
Ryan crossed his arms as he scrutinized the hologram. “Is this what, Find My iPhone?”
“Hmm… rather likely,” Dr. Anderson agreed. “This device must be some sort of Locator.”
“Locator, huh?” Having this clue was an incredible breakthrough, but he noticed something else. “And right where the Ovinne Mountain Campaign’s supposedly taking place, at that.”
“Indeed, that you mention it, such alignment is surely noteworthy,” Kelmithus remarked. His voice took on a more excited note, “Be it fate, perhaps?”
Henry smirked. “Hah, you’re sounding a bit like Sera, now. Well, looks like fate’s telling us where to go next. Let’s pack this up and head back.”
They carefully stowed the various artifacts in their holding bags, Henry holding on to the Locator. They made their way back to the locker room where they first entered, everyone excited for the next step in their mission.
Henry stepped through the airlock first, emerging on the other side. As he did so, a faint sound caught his attention. It was distant, muffled, but definitely not a sound that belonged to this facility. He wanted to take off the envirosuit, but it seemed that had to wait.
Ron came through the airlock after him. “Bro, you think –”
Henry held up a hand, stopping him short. He raised his weapon, picking up on the ‘something’s not right’ vibe.
Activating his infrared vision and using the laser mounted on his M7, Henry searched for signs of thermal distortions, just like he’d done back at Duke Vancor’s mansion. Ron did the same. As the rest of the team emerged from the airlock, they quickly caught on to the situation. Without a word, they joined them in securing the room.
After clearing the locker room, Henry signaled to move on to the lab next door. It was just as empty as the locker room, but now the sounds were more audible, definitely coming from the hallway just outside. Instructing his team to hold still, he crept toward the doorway to investigate.
He peeked around the corner, and felt his stomach drop. There, in the main hallway, was a group of soldiers. They were decked out in distinctive black armor and cloaks. They had no identifiable markings or insignia on their armor, but it was obvious – these were Nobians.
Henry pulled back, returning to his team. “Contact outside. At least a dozen Nobians securing the hallway.”
Ron’s expression grew serious. “Shit. Any idea on their entry point?”
Henry positioned himself behind a desk, aiming his weapon at the doorway. “Probably the same way we came in.”
“Main corridor’s the only play, huh?” Ryan said.
The main hallway only had one line of sight, and it just happened to be the only way out. Well, the only one they could reasonably access. The facility probably had other exits or fancy teleporters, but they’d already scoured the area for the former and wouldn’t be able to figure out the latter.
“Dozen hostiles doesn’t seem like a lot,” Isaac pointed out, taking out another Black Hornet from his bag. “We’re still good on ammo, too.”
Ron shook his head. “Dozen? Yeah, a dozen that we can see.”
“Owens is right,” Henry agreed. “We can’t confirm their numbers outright. If I had to guess, it would probably be at least fifty. Manageable, but I’d prefer that to be our last resort.”
“How might we fare with a disturbance?” Sera offered.
Kelmithus gripped his staff. “I might conjure an echo of noise distant hence. It shan’t last, but it can afford us enough time for our escape.”
Kelmithus’ plan seemed like it could work, but only if the Nobians didn’t know they were here. “No,” Henry disagreed. “They’ve seen our MRAPs outside. We’d get surrounded.”
“How about negotiation?” Dr. Anderson suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.
“Negotiation? With the Nobians?” Kelmithus questioned.
They all knew what the Nobians were like. It really did come off as a ridiculous idea, but what if Dr. Anderson was right? The archaeologist defended himself, “I know, I know. However, we have yet to confirm their hostility, and it would not serve us well to initiate hostilities with the Nobians.”
Taking in the silence as contemplation, he continued, “If talks break down, we hold our ground here. It’s not ideal, but we’ll control the engagement area and prevent them from flanking us.”
Henry reviewed the situation again. 12 hostiles, but they should expect the worse, so at least 50 hostiles plus failed negotiations. Holding the only way out, they were likely spread out between the hallway, the cave system, and possibly even the forest outside. Dr. Anderson’s plan was solid, but he had a few minor qualms. In particular, holding the line meant possibly exhausting themselves in a battle of attrition.
“Alright. We’ll open with negotiations. I’m skeptical, but it's worth a shot. Should that fail, we can’t engage in a drawn-out conflict. We’ll disrupt their positions and quickly move to the cave outside.”
“Smoke grenades and flashbangs,” Ryan muttered.
“Affirmative,” Henry said, nodding in agreement. “If we can’t see them, we’ll level the playing field so they can’t see us.”
“Captain,” Kelmithus quickly interjected, “Bid me aid your efforts. I’ve insight enough to create fog. I’ve learned from our encounter with the Sentinel Lindwyrm.”
“You can replicate that heavy fog?” Ron asked.
Kelmithus held up his palm, producing an opaque puff of steam to prove his point. “Indeed so, Lieutenant. Adequately do these envirosuits shield us, that I might harness more extreme temperatures for more effective casting.”
Henry was impressed with how quickly the archmage grasped such a concept. “Good. Yen, get that drone into the cave. We’ll hold for updates.”
Yen nodded, carrying out Henry’s order silently. The drone’s feed directly streamed to their HUDs, and after a few minutes, Isaac looked up. “Done.”
Henry analyzed the data. They had visual confirmation of a dozen Nobians inside the facility itself and a staggering forty outside, both in the cave and around the cave entrance. It was an assumption, but there probably weren’t many cloaked soldiers past the hallway. He sighed; the worst-case scenario would have them facing a hundred men in total.
It was a challenge, but the drone’s intel granted them a critical tactical advantage. He analyzed his minimap, selecting and sharing a route with minimal enemy contact. “After clearing the facility’s entrance, we’ll proceed along the designated path. Upon exit, I’ll deploy a flare to signal our movement to the MRAPs for extraction. We will then rendezvous with Zulu-9 and coordinate with air support before re-engaging to secure the site.”
His team nodded, fully on board with the plan. He took a deep breath to steel himself before checking his watch – 16:24. “Alright, time to show ourselves.”
Letting his M7 sling over his chest, Henry prepared two flash grenades – one in each hand – before stepping out. With his team in tow, he moved to the center of the hallway, catching the attention of one of the Nobian patrols.
“Attention, Nobian forces! We request parley. I am Captain Donnager of Alpha Team, Tier 6 Adventurer. We are on an official quest sanctioned by the Adventurer’s Guild. We have no intention of hostilities and seek to discuss our presence and objectives to ensure mutual understanding.”
As Henry’s words echoed through the hallway, the Nobian soldiers snapped into action. He heard the sounds of bowstring being drawn taut and the rasp of metal as swords cleared their scabbards. His hands tightened around the flash grenades.
He kept his gaze steady, projecting a sense of calm; of confidence – enough to convince the Nobians that even outnumbered, he and his team were still no match for them. More soldiers joined the patrol, until all twelve of the previously identified Nobians were upon them. They kept their distance, but Henry could feel the tension boiling.
Just as the standoff seemed to reach a critical point, the air in front of them seemed to fold outward from itself, like watching the effects of gravitational lensing on light. A figure coalesced from the distortion – so this is what invisibility magic looked like.
The man was broad-shouldered and tall, seeing eye-to-eye with him, even despite the extra inches in height the envirosuit gave. As the last wisps of the cloaking magic faded away, Henry found himself staring into a pair of piercing gray eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul.
The newcomer had an angular face and was clad in black armor with a different sheen than the black armor of his comrades. Silver trimmings and an insignia emblazoned on his chestplate – a dagger through a swirl of mist – differentiated his status. A cloak of the same dark hue billowed behind him as he walked forward and drew his sword.
Keeping his sword to the side, he stopped a respectable ten meters away from Henry. “I am Carvus Alnect Virelius, Umber Vicearch of the Order of the Shadow.” He then pointed his sword at Henry, declaring, “Of desecrating sovereign Nobian territory, you stand accused.”
As Carvus spoke, more soldiers materialized alongside him, shimmering into existence as they dropped their cloaking spells. Henry had expected this to happen, but seeing it play out still sent a chill down his spine. How many more were still lying in wait?
The Vicearch kept his weapon on Henry, eyes narrowing. “Commander unto commander, I offer a choice: cede your Holding Bags, that secure passage may be granted unto you. Refuse, and you shall be declared as spies and enemies of the Nobian Empire, your lives forfeit to swift execution.”
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2024.05.15 17:30 shaileenjovial A cheating hubby was made this cake on his birthday with text messages she got from his phone. This is more like he's eating his own words. 😁
submitted by shaileenjovial to cakedecorating [link] [comments]2024.05.15 17:01 AutoModerator ⚠️ Weekly Reminder about Spoilers ⚠️ — May 15, 2024
As we have new members joining all the time, and as we still get reports about spoilery posts, I think a weekly reminder about the importance of marking your posts with spoilers tags is in order.
If your post or comments contains discussions of major plot points (especially about deaths and endings), mark your post with spoiler tags or it will be removed. Here's how you do it.
https://preview.redd.it/9xb5ht42p3bc1.png?width=740&format=png&auto=webp&s=43820119f41012eff0d33a811c7a1bbcb0ae9ab9
To mark your entire post as spoiler-y:
Note: Your post will now have the symbol Spoiler next to the title.
To mark content on the text of your post body using the Fancy pants editor:
Use this syntax to mark spoilers on mobile: >!spoiler text!<
This will hide the text between the exclamation marks and display the spoiler text when clicked.
Make sure that your post title does not have spoilery plot points. For example, posts with titles such as "Love Show - everyone died!" or "Love Show - our main couple finally kissed in episode 20!" will be instantly removed, regardless of how many comments are under it.
DO include the name of the show in the title of the post
That said, please don't post overly vague titles. Please ensure that your post title contains the show's name at least. Imagine someone taking a chance to read the post only to be spoiled for a show they didn't want to be spoiled for.
Titles such as "A review" or "The ending of the show" does not tell you what show is being talked about. Even if they are marked spoilers, they will be removed.
Add spoiler tags to spoilery comments
If you're discussing a Show's plot point in a post unrelated to the Show, please tag your spoilers with spoiler tags, especially if you're dropping the comment on a post that has nothing to do with the Show.
Although I'm generally more lenient with comments with non-spoiler-tagged comments in posts marked as "spoilers", comments without spoiler tags under a post that has nothing to do with the show will be removed.
Posts such as Episode Discussions, discussions about a show's ending must be marked as spoiler or it will be removed.
What it said.
That's it!
Happy discussing!
submitted by AutoModerator to CDrama [link] [comments]
If your post or comments contains discussions of major plot points (especially about deaths and endings), mark your post with spoiler tags or it will be removed. Here's how you do it.
On the Desktop
This will work in Fancy Pants Editor mode, so switch to the mode by clicking on the “Switch to Fancy Pants Editor” button located at the top right corner of the text box.
https://preview.redd.it/9xb5ht42p3bc1.png?width=740&format=png&auto=webp&s=43820119f41012eff0d33a811c7a1bbcb0ae9ab9
To mark your entire post as spoiler-y:
- At the bottom of the Fancy pants editor, click +Spoiler
Note: Your post will now have the symbol Spoiler next to the title.
To mark content on the text of your post body using the Fancy pants editor:
- Open the Reddit post you want to edit.
- Highlight the text you want to mark as a spoiler.
- Click on the exclamation mark in a diamond located in the top menu of the fancy pants editor.
- Click Save to save your changes.
Mobile
To mark your post as a spoiler:- Tap on Add tags & flair (optional).
- Scroll down to Universal tags and toggle on the slider for Spoiler.
- Tap on Apply (at the top).
Use this syntax to mark spoilers on mobile: >!spoiler text!<
This will hide the text between the exclamation marks and display the spoiler text when clicked.
Some guidelines about spoilers:
DO NOT include spoilers in the post titlesMake sure that your post title does not have spoilery plot points. For example, posts with titles such as "Love Show - everyone died!" or "Love Show - our main couple finally kissed in episode 20!" will be instantly removed, regardless of how many comments are under it.
DO include the name of the show in the title of the post
That said, please don't post overly vague titles. Please ensure that your post title contains the show's name at least. Imagine someone taking a chance to read the post only to be spoiled for a show they didn't want to be spoiled for.
Titles such as "A review" or "The ending of the show" does not tell you what show is being talked about. Even if they are marked spoilers, they will be removed.
Add spoiler tags to spoilery comments
If you're discussing a Show's plot point in a post unrelated to the Show, please tag your spoilers with spoiler tags, especially if you're dropping the comment on a post that has nothing to do with the Show.
Although I'm generally more lenient with comments with non-spoiler-tagged comments in posts marked as "spoilers", comments without spoiler tags under a post that has nothing to do with the show will be removed.
Posts such as Episode Discussions, discussions about a show's ending must be marked as spoiler or it will be removed.
What it said.
That's it!
Happy discussing!