It's been one week since he stopped talking. I have a lot of great things going for me and trying to focus on that and remain grateful but can't stop ruminating over the situation and his words. I'm trying to enjoy life and the trip I'm currently on that's fully funded by my institution. ( Helping with the refugee crisis and achieving health equity. I have my therapist appointment coming up soon ( she's also Muslim yay). I feel sad having to start this process all over again. It's already been hard my parents are trying there best to look and I feel so embarrassed and bad that I had just told them about this guy and wanting to inquire more and willing to meet him and his family.
Recap : I was talking to a brother, and things seemed to be going well. We discussed various aspects of our future together, including religious practices and family values. He would often talk about our future, which made me hopeful and excited. However, after not hearing from him for a day, I was suddenly hit with a message saying we are not compatible and that it's not his fault for wanting someone who comes from a fully Muslim household.
He mentioned my Christian mother as a negative, despite me being a practicing Muslim (I was born Muslim) and striving daily to get closer to the deen. My dad is Muslim, and my parents are still married. I grew up primarily with my dad's side of the family and was raised with strong Islamic values. My mom, although Christian, pushed me to learn how to read the Quran and to understand its meaning, and she raised me to be Muslim. On top of that, I have aunts who are devout Muslim women and all wear hijab ..... So him saying I have no Muslim women role models is hurtful and false. He has known from start my mom is Christian. The thing I agree only with is me traveling alone which I think was really the main factor but I had said if we were married I wouldn't travel alone without a mahram id obliged to the Hadith. This is the first and only time I'm traveling alone.
The messages below I feel it was very hurtful and disrespectful . ( I pray 5 times a day Tahajjud trying to read the Qu'ran more and memorize. I grew up in a joint family with my paternal side. My mom raised me Muslim Alhumduliah parents are still married. My mom in fact has expressed for my dad to take us to do Hajj and the importance to do it. I'm not a hijabi yet but am working towards it.) No means am I'm saying I'm perfect I have my flaws.
Him: Hey Salam, let me break it to u. me and u we are not compatible to be honest. I have to be really careful picking up who I share life with. U know women are crazy over here they initiate most of the divorces, because u follow how u feel not god , that's exactly the type of partner that's a no go for me. I told u I'm super traditional like we don't have exiled ppl in my family we don't marry kafer women to get confused kids tbh we don't do divorces because we don't just pick up any white woman from the street. My issue with u to be honest even tho ur a good person, u don't really come from a Muslim house and u don't have a Muslim woman role model. Basically ur mother is not Muslim so she can't set an example of what a Muslim woman is like. And again to be honest I dont find this my fault I'm looking for a traditional person and just normal Muslim that follow the deen in their life actions. Plus ur too busy for me ur focused in ur career too much and I don't want to change that. Like I don't want to come and be with u and I have to change u. Like I think i was trying to tell u last time I didn't get to continue talking, i wouldn't know what to do but kill myself if I have a woman brought shame to my family like my sister or any of our woman. So this is big for us Muslims and it seems that u don't understand those stuff.
Me: I have my aunts and grandmother who are Muslim women as influences. Allah yerhamha
(all hijabis)
Him: But still that's not like ur mother. Like half of ur other family is Christians. And what I meant by direct influence or a woman Muslim role model is like u seeing how ur mother treats ur father in a Muslim matter on everything she does, and I'm sorry ur mother is not Muslim so she won't be able to do that. So now u wanna tell me u act more like ur aunt than ur mom? U don't wear hijab just like ur mom, u care about ur career a lot like u told me like ur mom. So I didn't know that would be an issue knowing that ur not raised in a fully Muslim family. I thought i should be fair and give it a chance and not judge u according to ur family. Because u could have been exactly what I wanted. And btw I didn't say I want just an eastern woman, I said I want a Muslim woman u tend to find them more over there. And there is Muslim women here who wear the hijab and do what a Muslim does regardless because there is no law that says u can't be Muslim fully. So don't think it's because of u being western is the main problem, u being influenced a lot by the west that is the problem, so we could have been still talking. Since u said that u were traveling to overseas it just made me know I'm gonna have a lot of problems, it actually got me sad that we are not compatible.
The truth sometimes hurt, I didn't want to lie to you. I was gonna tell you the situation how it is so u don't be confused and I owe u that.
He sent 2 voice messages after the text that just disrespected me, my family and upbringing. Handed it by telling me he hopes I change to find a better man.
I did agree and acknowledge that it isn't right of me to travel alone. But at first had originally told me wasn't mad that just if we were married wouldn't travel alone which I'm fine with and prefer.

Everyone is always looking for that next big thing. Roaring Kitty posted about GME a year or two before the initial breakout happened. I posted about 2.5 years ago about $ELTP going CFP. So, why is $ELTP, positioned for a squeeze?
First and foremost, there are known agitators on the Ihub boards - two of which have openly admitted to shorting the stock and bragging that they can do it from outside the United States. They have infiltrated the moderator spots, just like the in GME where those in naked shorting positions were placing employees in locations to create horrible customer service experiences. For GME, the goal was to drive customers away, and it sounded crazy when first posited, but, like many conspiracy theories over the last few years, it was eventually shown to be true. For $ELTP, the main moderator deletes many positive posts, restricts posting of those in long positions or outright bans their accounts. He will send you messages bragging about the fact that you can't do anything about it. Hubris is always the last step before downfall.
I watched this stock for 3.5 years before I bought a single share. Ironically, the antics of these agitators helped clue me in on this potentially being a good stock. Once the company turned a profit - clearly amazing news for a company on the OTC, the most astounding thing happened. All the naysayers and agitators whipped themselves up in to this religious fervor. Accounts with similar names but that hadn't posted in 10 years suddenly started spam posting negative stuff about a stock...that just had incredibly positive news? That's odd. The more positive news that came out the more they started banning people and spamming negative posts. And the more I saw this, the more shares I accumulated. Then last year, $ELTP popped over 600% from it's low. It was like swatting a bee hive. The agitators went full tilt.
So, how can we profit, and how can we make these guys feel the pain? There are about 400 million shares held by execs/employees etc. that I don't think are moving. That leaves about 600 million shares. The people who have borrowed shares (hard to tell the amount since this is outside of the US and most likely outside of our ability to purvey) are going to be in an increasingly tough position if we can start accumulating all of the shares. At 10,000 people, we would need to each accumulate 60,000 shares - a cost of around $10k at current prices. 10,000 people - that's all and we can drive this thing through the roof. The best part? The CEO has stated that he expects a buyout within 2 to 2.5 years. So, we have our exit. Preferably, it would be by Pfizer (they lost a manufacturing plant in a hurricane last year and could use $ELTP manufacturing capacity) so we could swap shares instead of paying the capital gains.
I've posted my position before on here when discussing this company so that I was as transparent as possible. Going forward though, I will personally commit to $15,000 a month in purchases. I continue to say this stock is worth $1.60 ish on the low side and $10 on the high side. At 17 cents, each share would be one more little soldier fighting for my retirement.
If this gets over 2,000 likes, I'll assume I've got soldiers marching with me, and I start my $15k buy per month which I will post screenshots of every month.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse
***
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

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Hi guys, this one might be long so I am going to summarize this the best I can. For privacy reasons, I am not stating the age, gender, or names to anyone involved. The main person I will talk about will be called X. I have known X since high school and we became close after graduating. We both have a mutual friend named Y, I hang out with Y more only because we had more classes together in HS and kept in contact more after graduating.
X has been a good friend, but there have been times where X will get mad over stuff and won’t confront the party involved, leaving me stuck in the middle to deal with it. I finished up my last semester of my masters program this May and had a party. X was there (Y had work that day), and ended up talking to a relative of mine. Context: this is not a blood realtive but close family friend over 15 years. X asked where they were from, i messed up the countries and X said “they lied to me, not surprised they are all liars”. I was really shocked by this and called them out saying 1. They met my relative for 2 minutes and I was the one who messed up 2. They made assumptions for no reason.
I was fuming the rest of the weekend, and it ended up seeping into my graduation. I ended up coming home the day before Y’s graduation (X was going to be there). I wasnt sure if I was going to go because of how far it was, Y offered to drive us there. I decided not to tell X that I would be there because I knew that I was still angry at them and my mood would ruin their graduation, I didnt want that. After graduation, Y and I went to get food and called it a night, I ended up posting a congrats post for Y on social media, which prompted X to get mad and text our gc saying that they were leaving social media.
When i asked what was wrong, X got really bad at me and said that they felt left out and that they wanted to hang out with me. I literally explained that I was still hurt with what they said about my relative and I didnt want my mood to ruine graduation. Long story short, they tried to apologize (in person), and I tried to invite them to a trivia night at a bar with my friend. They said no, and I asked if they were sure, they said yes. I also explained in person (the third time I explained), that I didn't want to go to their graduation for obvi reasons.
I thought everything was cleared up, but X sent a message around 10 a.m. yesterday asking if there was anything they could do to fix our relationship and that they wanted us to be friends again. They also talkd to Y and said how they flt left out of trivia night the other night because it was just us (this made me fume because i literally invited them). They were also really upset about us not seeing them at graduation (literally explained this to them).
I feel like im at a standstill with all of this. I don’t know what to do. We were close at one point, but what they said about my relative really hurt me. Im not sure if this is anxious attachment or not. Thank you for hearing me out., p

When I was 12-13 I started posting on here about my dad's drinking, occasional spouts of verbal/physical abuse, obvious favoritism of my sister at the time (she's biologically his), nasty ableism/mocking of my autistic traits, etc. I was also posting on a few other message boards and must have pissed off the wrong person - I got doxxed, pizzas sent to my house as sort of warning shots, and then there came the day someone put an envelope (with no postage) in the mailbox detailing everything I had written on here. Cue a very uncomfortable car ride home where my mom insisted that my dad had chosen me, that I was completely in the wrong and "didn't even know what a narcissist was."
I got rid of everything. Then I got very sick for a while. Then, at the age of 18, my mom finally decided the time was right to leave my dad, without any apologies to her kids for what they'd been through, what she'd enabled and passed off as normal.
I didn't feel the need to come to my dad again except out of pure desperation - when I got outed at 20 and had to flee my grandparents' home. I could tell he wasn't doing well, but I got a weird sense, for possibly the first time in my life, that he actually cared. I did apologize for some of the things I'd done/said to him before we went NC. I tend to go to extremes when I'm pushed to a certain point, because I want them to feel the sting the same way I do, yet I know everyone else's tolerance is higher than mine...if that makes any sense.
My dad's life has been a complete shitshow the past couple of years. I'm certain he's going to lose his home and drink himself to an early grave. Honestly, at this point, I just feel sorry for him more than anything. When I talk to him, I tend to share more - partially because he's too drunk to remember it, but also because I don't feel any sense of judgment from him. We even went to lunch last weekend.
My mom, on the other hand, picked out another man who is proud of the fact that he's a narcissist, and I fled that living situation as soon as I could. She still tries to stay apart of my life, but I simply don't feel comfortable talking to her a lot of the time for reasons I can't explain. (She's also done some crazy shit to me since, like making me a Tinder account with my sister without my consent, but that's another story.) It also turns into a guilt trip any time she helps me with anything and how I'm the problem in every situation.
I know my best solution is probably just building something for myself and getting away from all these fucking people - I know, I'm working on it. But it's hard.
I just also have a lot of guilt with these feelings. My dad is an alcoholic, abusive pervert (he's too drunk now to do the last two, at the moment at least) - and yet I would rather be around him than the people who have "supported" (see: hesitantly gave me food and shelter) me for most of my life? How does that make any sense?
Also, just a note to anyone posting on here - be extremely careful about identifying info. There are people who pay for their Internet connections for the sole purpose of destroying others. They get off on it.

To D.,
Hoping that you never read this letter, that is to say, that I never send it to you,
I think back to your story from yesterday. Imagining what you went through while you were telling me made my blood run cold. You didn't tell me what that boy might have said and repeated to you; it was enough to understand the destructive force of his obsession and relentlessness to trigger deep compassion in me. It was the first time I heard someone talk about their stalker. Now that I think back, I realize even more how much of an ordeal it must have been. He stole your right to a peaceful daily life and replaced it with a tentacular grip motivated by hopes whose futility he could only consciously ignore. Yet he believed in it, he thought, at least for a moment, that one more message, one more letter would finally win you over. Probably his mind crossed the point of no return, that he couldn't repent, that he had gone too far. Probably he didn't realize that the love he had for you—if he loved you, if that can decently be called love, if he is even capable of love—had turned into an uncontrollable anger of which you were the constant victim. Probably he thought he loved you but also wanted to hurt you, pursuing two completely contradictory goals: to seduce you to attract you and to punish you for rejecting him. So, I quickly agreed with you when you said his behavior was pathological. You learned you were not the only one.
I wouldn't say that one of my first thoughts was to believe that I wasn't like that, as if not being sick deserved a medal or the invented applause of an indefinite crowd living in a corner of my brain. This kind of perversion seemed so far from me that I could only be sincerely sorry for you. I don't even know how many times I told you how sorry I was for you and how brave I found you for filing a complaint, confronting the situation, and reacting with such strength despite the mental cost it might represent.
At that moment, I felt pure sympathy for you. It had nothing to do with me; I disappeared from the discussion, erased myself from the world just to listen to you and give your story the full respect it deserves. Then, we changed the subject, and I remember the atmosphere became lighter. I couldn't tell you what we talked about at that moment as I've been thinking since yesterday.
You paid for our lattes and walked me to my bike. I'm certain I saw fear cross your face when I told you which street I had parked my bike on. I sensed—without really knowing, though it had crossed my mind—that I had parked it near your home, and I understood your fear. I tried to imagine what went through your mind at that moment, and this is what stuck with me: I was almost at your place, almost at your door, and it wasn't planned, and this "coincidence" reminded you of your fears and your anxiety of living under a grip, of losing control of your privacy. However, this fear seemed to disappear as quickly as it had arrived, and I decided not to think about it anymore. When we reached my bike, I decided to trust my instinct to find the courage to say the words stuck in my heart; I didn't yet know if I would simply propose to see you again or add that I wanted to kiss you. I liked you a lot. A lot. I think I still do.
You spoke first: "I think I'm not ready to see someone yet." I responded almost automatically that I completely understood given your situation. I don't think this automatic response showed a lack of sincerity, on the contrary. You weren't ready, and that seemed so overwhelmingly logical that I could only surrender to the obviousness of it. You added that you were sorry for wasting my time, and I replied that the time spent with you hadn't been wasted. We said goodbye. I had accepted your no.
Yet, as I watched you leave, I wondered first if I should send you a message, then what kind of message to send, and finally how to make you believe that I was also closing the door to all possibilities while subtly, secretly, leaving the door slightly open for another meeting, maybe even a relationship. I wanted to turn your no into a yes, or at worst, into a maybe. Even as this reasoning was forming, I passively observed the perversity and malice spreading throughout my psyche. I saw an obsession with you taking root, and I couldn't shake it off. On my bike, I cursed myself for having this reflex thought, and I was terrified, devastated to see it persist as I imagined the message I shouldn't send you; as it became more precise, more twisted, more manipulative with each pedal stroke, I saw myself as a gambler who had to choose each word meticulously to maximize his chances of winning. Very quickly, I identified with your stalker despite myself, and for that, I hated myself. I hated myself for despising him while sharing the object of his obsession. It was also incomprehensible that I didn't even bother or feel the need to rationalize my reasoning or excuse any sense of shame. I was like that, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Once home, I mechanically started working, and within a few minutes, my draft had taken its final form, and without thinking twice, I sent you a text message:
5:10 PM "Hey, D. I apologize in advance if this message sounds like I'm trying to get my foot in the door—I can understand that it might be the last thing you need—but that's not the case. I just wanted to reiterate that I really enjoyed our two little outings together and that I would hate for you to think that you wasted my time. You're a great girl, very brave—I sincerely mean that—and you deserve all the time you need to consider a relationship of any kind with someone. I'm not expecting any particular response from you and I wish you the best."
Rewriting and rereading this message disgusts me, obviously. The truth and lies are so well intertwined that I could almost be proud of it. The first sentence perfectly illustrates the ambivalence of the whole text: on one hand, I want to get my foot in the door, but I absolutely want to assure you otherwise, and on the other, I know that acting this way will bring nothing good, especially for you, but I do it anyway. The last sentence is also superbly ambiguous: I want you to believe that my message stands alone, but in reality, I hope you'll reply. This ambiguity actually reveals one thing: I'm clinging to the completely crazy hope that I can manage to seduce you by showing that I respect your rejection.
You replied:
5:35 PM "Hey R., thank you very much for your message and your kindness. I also had a good time during these two outings. I thought I could do it, but it's still too early for me! I wish you the best too."
Winning bet. I hate myself for succeeding in cloaking my intentions in kindness and benevolence and for my lie triumphing. Deep down, I know I would have suffered if you hadn't responded and that this absence of response would have fed my obsession. But in a way, my message protected me. As long as you didn't respond and I didn't fail by breaking my promise and sending you another message, I preserved this illusion of benevolence.
By responding, it's as if you offered yourself to my obsession, validated it unknowingly, and gave me permission to break the promise I made to you.
That's when I got scared and decided I had to talk to someone, as if I needed to confess—or be exorcised—and I thought that, in any case, I could free myself from this weight that was suffocating and blinding me. I joined U. and warned him that I needed to talk to him about you. Sitting on the terrace at the Relais, I told him as best I could about your story and the sincere empathy I had felt. I continued by explaining the disgust I had felt towards my behavior. U. nodded and understood and found the words to reassure me. He got up and went up inside at the counter of the bar to order us some drinks, leaving me alone at our table on Rue de Belleville.
I was left to my thoughts when I saw you arriving on the opposite sidewalk at the corner of Rue Rampal. I couldn't help but first believe that I had manifested your presence by projecting your features onto a stranger's face, as if my subconscious wanted to demonstrate the quasi-psychedelic power of my obsession. As I realized it was indeed you, a wave of anxiety overwhelmed me. I don't know if you saw me, I think you did. I immediately thought of your perspective; you couldn't help but notice the curious appearance of the boy you had confided your stalker story to just a few hours earlier. In an instant, I resumed the role that had traumatized you, and in taking it up despite myself, my questions were confirmed, and a sordid prophecy was being fulfilled before my eyes. I felt as if chance had crossed the red line for me and that I could only be what I dreaded becoming. I stared at you, trying to mentally convey my confusion and distress, as to make you understand that this absolutely was just an unfortunate coincidence.
U. returned as you were crossing the street, and I commented on the scene to him. "Sometimes life really messes with us," he said.

I’m 17 years old and most of you are probably gonna all tell me the same thing or say it’s all apart of the teenage experience, which is probably true but fuck it sucks. I dated my ex on and off for 2 years, he never really knew what he wanted but closer to the end of March this year I decided to completely stop talking to him because I was just over the entire thing. A couple days later I met this other guy on an app where you can get in touch with other people your age and in your area, we’ll call this boy EP. He messaged me on the app first and we just had small talk before we followed each other on social media but after that he didn’t really message me or replied to my messages, he would reply to certain things I posted sometimes and I didn’t hide that I was interested in him because I would heart things that he posted often. But I didn’t try too hard because he wasn’t really giving the same energy back. About two weeks after all of this he messaged me randomly one night while it was late and he asked me what I was up to, I was cleaning and watching a movie at the time, he asked if he can come watch the movie with me, I took it as a joke at first and made a jokingly response but he told me he was serious and he was ready to be on his way as long as I said it was ok. I was a bit skeptical but I ended up letting him come over. We talked for a bit but we ended up having sex.
This is definitely something I ended up regretting and I’m not very proud of it and to make matters worse no protection was involved. Before he left he kissed me goodbye and told me he would text me later but he never really did. A few days later he replied to a story I posted and ignored me when I mentioned him ghosting me. It made me upset and I felt disgusting for a while but I didn’t make attempts to reach out or talk to him. I left it alone. That was until I started feeling sick almost everyday, I was way more tired than usual during the days and I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period like I was supposed to. I brought a pregnancy test and I took it with my friend and my school social worker and it came back positive. I tried to tell him the next day but he ignored me so I had my friend message him whom he replied to fast and she told him. He was denying it at first and was confused and asked what girl was she talking about, when she said it was me he kind of denied the possibility of it being him because he claimed he didn’t finish inside of me. I knew for certain it was by him because he was the first and only person I’ve slept with in 7 months. He ended up blocking my friend as she was texting him and he blocked my phone number but not on social media, he never blocked or removed me he just muted me. After that and I seen the way he reacted and knowing that I would more than likely be on my own with the kid if I were to have it I decided to tell my mom everything so she can schedule me an appointment for an abortion. She was upset but eventually she just became supportive through the entire process. My friend has another friend who used to go to school with ep and she had her talk to me and she basically told me that he’s a complete player and he does what he did to me all the time to other girls and she encouraged me to go through with the abortion. Shortly before I messaged him from a text now number and just went off on him and expressed my anger, he never replied back he probably didn’t even care but hey.
After all of that was taken care of I just fell into a depression and I’m still currently in. I know it’s my fault and I got myself into this mess on my own, and the crazy part about it all is that I haven’t cried not once, but I still feel hurt and dead on this inside, i decided to delete social media today because I find myself stalking his accounts too often. I even found his ex girlfriends pages, apparently they still talk and mess around with each other but on her social media she is very open about the relationship they had/have and she talked about how he cheated on he more than once, one time it was with one of her friends. There was just a lot she posted and it just appears that he’s just not a good guy but she has a harsh attachment to him which I understand, anyone’s who’s been in a toxic relationship before understands. I just found myself feeling bad for her but I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me so I didn’t make it my business too much.
But other than that I’ve just not been doing the best mentally and emotionally, I think about him too much, I’m tired of feeling this way, I feel like I don’t even have a valid right to feel the way I do about him because me and him never bonded emotionally or got to know each other. We have no type of emotional attachment but I do feel like my heart is broken and it has everything to do with him and what happened, I feel super delusional and crazy and I probably am. I made myself too vulnerable and easy and he took advantage of me during a weak moment in my life. I’m just taking it one day at a time now and being patient with myself and trying to focus on the next steps of my life since I just graduated high school. I have no interest or desire to talk to any boys anymore. Part of me still hopes that one day EP would reach out to me and give it a shot but I that’s probably unrealistic. I know I’ll get over it eventually.

Not really sure how to start this, I have been for a while in this Subreddit and decided to try my luck now also.
Hello all, I am a 27 years old male from Germany. I'm looking for a serious relationship. I would like to have someone who I can trust and depend on 100% and of course expect the same from me. A genuine connection where we can be open about everything with no judgement. Communication is in my opinion the most important part of a good connection to each other. I'm not looking for any short term things or fwb. I don't want and need that.
Some Info about me: - I am 27 years old even though I think I actually look younger than that age😅. I also have Russian roots, so I speak English, German and Russian. I'm 177cm tall and have short brown hair and blue eyes. Also, I'm more on the slim side. I'm not the muscular gym guy if that's a dealbreaker for someone.

• I'm not sure what to tell about my hobbies, since I like a lot of things. I enjoy playing video games and watching TV shows. One of my bigger hobbies at the moment is travelling, which I also would like to do more often. I just want to explore the world and learn about different parts of the world. Life is short and there are so many things to see. I love nature and beautiful landscapes the most about traveling, I would say. I also just enjoy spending time together with other people, and I am actually open to do and try different kind of activities.
  
• In general, I would describe myself as a very loyal and honest person.
  

What I am looking for: - I would prefer if you are from Germany or in Europe, maybe close to Germany or in a country with good access to get there. I just want to keep this realistic.

• I don't really have a specific type for a Person. I am really open-minded, so if it clicks, it clicks. I'm not sure how to explain that. There is only one thing which is unattractive to me. This is not meant to be disrespectful at all, I respect everyone who wants to live the way he wants. But plus size is just something I can't do. I'm not expecting a perfect body, please don't get me wrong. I hope you understand what I mean.
  
• I would love to have someone who enjoys traveling also. If you play video games, it could be nice too, since we could share this hobby easily.
  
• I am also into all sort of cute couple things, maybe it's just that I haven't experienced it yet. I would like it also when you are clingy in a positive way if you know what I mean, like not in a possessive way, maybe.
  
• Also, I would prefer it if you are in the age range between 22-28. I also prefer it if you are not taller than me.
  

I have 2 things I want to be open about in addition.

1. I have social anxiety. I worked on it a lot and honestly try my best to not let it influence my life. I just want to be upfront about it in case it is also a dealbreaker for you. I am open to answer any questions regarding this.
   
2. I have very low, almost none dating experience. I figured out, that this seems to be also a dealbreaker for some people, so I just share it also right away.
   

I value honesty a lot, so you just know what you get if you are interested in writing me. It is just that I maybe need to take some more time with certain things because of the anxiety and lack of experience, which makes me feel insecure. If you have some problems yourself or can relate to this, maybe it is even easier as we share the same experience. So no worries if there is anything I will not judge you for that, the only thing I ask you is to be open about it.
We can also exchange pictures right away if you want or if you feel more comfortable, I don't mind if we first write and learn about each other first and exchange it afterward.
If you are interested, please write me a message or send me a chat. Maybe you could give me a short description of yourself and then we will see how things develop 🙃
Thank you for reading this and I wish you all the best.

This week’s vintage batch features European FPs from the 1930s-50s, most of which are piston fillers. Nibs range from a springy to Wet Noodle, including one dip-pen nib retrofit. As always, all are fully restored and ready to write.
 
ALBUM & TIMESTAMP
 
Pastable link: https://imgur.com/a/QtB5ctS
 
Condition (n.b.): All pens listed below have been disassembled, cleaned and restored with new sacs installed in the last couple weeks and seals installed in the last couple years. Each of these pens is guaranteed to fill and write as designed without leaks or other problems. Nibs have been adjusted when necessary to ensure that all lay down a smooth and consistent line.
THESE PENS HAVE NO CRACKS (except #3), CHIPS, PERSONALIZATIONS, LOOSE OR MISSING PARTS, BENT NIBS, MISALIGNED TINES, BROKEN/WORN OFF TIPPING, OR THREADING ISSUES.
 
Line Widths and Writing Samples: To provide buyers with as much information as possible, I have adopted the following line width standards: XXF (.1-.2mm); XF (approx .3mm); F (approx .4mm); M (approx .6mm); B (approx .8mm). Nib flexibility is determined by variation (max line width under pressure) and softness (amount of pressure). Flexibility designations based on variation generally run as follows for an XF/F nib: Semi-Flex (approx. 1mm); Flex (1.2-1.9mm); Superflex (2mm+). All line width measurements are taken with a digital caliper but should be considered approximations providing a general guide. Width may vary slightly depending on type of ink and paper used as well as amount of pressure applied. All writing samples are on Rhodia dot paper using Waterman Serenity Blue.
 
 
1. 1950s Pelikan 400 (Tortoise, celluloid, GPT, piston filler, 14k KM [F/M Ball] nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 15/16” capped. I assume that the Pelikan pen company requires no introduction here :) This is an example of one of Pelikan’s most celebrated vintage pens in tortoiseshell celluloid with transparent striations for viewing the ink level. Classic gold-plated cap band and Pelikan-beak clip. Two-chick Pelikan logo stamped in captop (see DETAIL PHOTO). This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. Blind cap is stamped KM, corresponding to the ‘M’ marking on the 14k Pelikan nib. The ‘’K’ is for ‘Kugel’ (‘ball), designating this nib as a ball nib, the tipping finished to give it a wider sweet spot for smooth writing at a wide range of angles. Though I wouldn’t call it a flex nib, it does have a springiness and buttery smoothness that’s quite nice. It lays down a smooth and consistent F/M line by the standards above (see WRITING SAMPLE). Condition: fine [C]. I’d describe this pen as more of a user. It’s been fully restored with a new seal and is guaranteed to fill smoothly to factory capacity without leaks. However, there’s an issue with the piston while unscrewing the blind cap all the way that makes the blind cap want to lift up and disengage when the piston is close to fully extended. The solution to this is simple enough: apply a little downward pressure to the piston when unscrewing the blind cap to extend the piston and it works just as it should every time (100% reliable). This has been factored into the price all the same. Barrel transparency is near mint with light yellow coloration and no staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Gold-plated trim shows brassing to the bottom of the clip and a sliver around the bottom edge of the cap band as well as some nicks to the top edge of the clip tassie. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprints are deep and fully legible. A chance to own one of these with superb clarity at less than half the price they fetch on merchant websites. Price: $190
 
2. 1939-44 Pelikan 100 Wartime (green Binde, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, chromium nickel [CN] steel Oblique F/M-XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 4 5/8” capped. During the material restrictions of WWII, Pelikan made several, short-lived changes to the 100. In place of 14k nibs they implemented Chromium-Nickel steel nibs marked CN. The gold-plated clip was supplanted by nickel-plated (so-called "reverse trim"). And the gold-plated cap bands gave way to no cap bands at all, the cap being either smooth or milled with decorative bands like this example. This wartime model is 100% original and correct, having all these features, including the original nib. It is made of celluloid with a vibrant green marble Binde. Pelikan two-chick logo stamped on the cap top (see DETAIL PHOTO). Barrel underneath is a transparent green for viewing the ink level. This pen is a piston filler: to fill simply rotate the blind cap counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submerse the nib, and rotate the piston clockwise until it comes to a stop. The Pelikan CN nib is a Left-Foot Oblique (iridium is ground in a shape like your left foot viewed from above). Under normal pressure it lays down a smooth and consistent F/M on the cross-strokes and XF line on the down-strokes. And the line widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Versatile variation and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for shaded writing and expressive styles. And the tipping was smoothed by Rick Propas when this pen was restored, making it just as buttery smooth as a Pelikan 14k nib. Condition: near mint [B+]. This pen comes from my personal collection and is the result of hunting the best example I could find. Wartime 100s are rare and this one, which resembles an artifact from a time-capsule, took me decades to track down. Nickel-plated trim is pristine with no brassing or other notable wear. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other noteworthy blemishes. Barrel clarity is superb with no discernible darkening or staining (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprints on the captop are factory deep and even contain most of their original green fill. The only hiccup is that despite being restored 2 years ago by Rick Propas and only being filled 1-2 times since, this pen only fills to half capacity. And this despite the piston operating as smooth as they come. I’ve regreased the pen, but it hasn’t seemed to make a difference. Because this pen is more off a collector-oriented find, I’ve decided to list it anyway. You’d be hard pressed to find another example of this rare piece of Pelikan history in better cosmetic condition. Price: $450
 
3. 1930s Luxor Visible 5907 (red and translucent web celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k Two-Tone XF Super-Flex nib). At 4 7/8" capped, this pen roughly the same length as a Pelikan. Luxor was a German brand of the Hebborn pen company, founded in 1925 by former Kaweco employee Heinrich Hebborn and located in Heidelberg until relocating to Cologne sometime before 1937. In Richard Binder's words: "The company produced pens of high quality, and it was known universally by the name of its signature brand, Luxor, with designs inspired by the aesthetic of ancient Egypt. Sub-brands included Sphinx, Visible, and Grandvisible" (source). The company is credited with having designed the first telescopic piston mechanism, which Montblanc would famously incorporate into its own designs. Despite their high quality, there weren't very many of these pens made and Luxors are especially scarce finds in the US today. This Visible model is made of a stunning red and translucent web celluloid similar to that which Wahl-Eversharp used for the Doric. Unlike the Doric, however, the entire barrel is translucent to show the ink level and piston operation. The cap is also translucent! The celluloid pattern is complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. The pen is equipped with a beautiful 14k two-tone Luxor nib stamped with the pyramidal Luxor trademark. The nib is a Super-Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 4B+ (approx 2.3mm capped) under light pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong snap-back and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it a great choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+] aside from a hairline crack in the shank of the nib. The crack can be seen in the photos. It has no effect on the nibs performance or how it writes. And there’s no reason to think it’ll worsen unless the nib and feed are removed and re-installed (something that is only done on vintage pens for repair, not flushing). I’m happy to offer a one-year guarantee (no-questions return for refund) that this crack won’t get any longer. Nickel-plated furniture is remarkably clean, showing no brassing or other notable wear aside from a small spot of brassing on the bottom terminus of the clip. Red color is of an even shade across the cap and barrel. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any miscroscratches. Barrel clarity is excellent but slightly ambered in comparison to the cap's (see DETAIL PHOTO). Manufacturer imprint on the cap is deep and fully legible. An uncommon and uncommonly eye-catching pen that also happens to be a lovely writer. *Price: $290
 
4. 1940s-50s Oversized Stylomine 303 Retrofit (black, celluloid, NPT, accordion filler converted to twist filler, 14k XXF Needlepoint Wet Noodle nib). This oversized pen is massive, having a thick girth that doesn’t fit all the way into the slots of the slotter box and a capped length of 5 3/8.” Stylomine was a Parisian pen company founded shortly after World War I. Streamlined profile, clip, and font of the imprint exude the aesthetics of midcentury design. This pen is made of black celluloid with tapered ends. Nickel-plated trim in a deluxe configuration includes cool spring-loaded clip with a hallmark ‘Y Z’ on the right side. I wasn’t able to track this down, but it’s possible the clip is either sterling silver or silver-plated. In 1940 the company patented an innovative FP filling system comprised of a rubber sac shaped into a bellows and attached to a glass ink cartridge at the end of the barrel (see fillers photo). Referred to as an accordion filler today, the pen was designed to be filled by removing the blindcap and depressing the glass ink cartridge several times until the cartridge fills with ink. Since accordion sacs are no longer being made, I followed David Nishimura’s advice and restored this pen using a standard tubular sac trimmed at both ends. This essentially converted it into a twist filler so that instead of depressing the glass cartridge one twists it a little over 1 full turn to fill the sac as well as 1/3 to 1/2 of the glass cartridge. Thanks to the size of the pen, this retrofitted solution still allows it to hold about as much ink as a typical lever filler (e.g. Waterman 52). This pen came to me nibless. But I was able to find a serendipitous match in a massive 14k, iridium tipped E.S. Johnson #4 nib stamped ‘303’. This number matches the Stylomine model number on the barrel! Like all my dip pen nib retrofits, the nib and feed were modified to guarantee factory fit, flow, and performance, delivering the best of both centuries. That nib yields Flexible variation with Wet Noodle softness, laying down a smooth and consistent XXF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under minimal pressure – i.e. anything more than grazing the page (see WRITING SAMPLE). Don’t be fooled by the max line width. Needlepoint hairlines, effortless variation, surgically responsive snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an ideal choice for calligraphic writing styles such as Copperplate and Spencerian. Condition: excellent+ [B+]. Nickel-plated trim shows no brassing or other notable flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes – scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible with ‘Made in France’ slightly weakened. Price: $340
 
5. 1930s Big Ben (grey shell, celluloid, NPT, piston filler, 14k XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/16” capped. Big Ben was a trademark of the Benzion Trading Company of Copenhagen, Denmark. The company was founded in 1933 by Niels Benzion, who had worked for the Wahl-Eversharp. A pen of cosmopolitan origins, the Big Ben has a piston-filler patented in England (hence the cap imprint) while the pen was made in collaboration with H. Hebborn & of Heidelberg, Germany. That is why this pen so closely resembles the Luxor above. This particular example is made of celluloid in a grey shell pattern resembling that of a 2nd-gen Eversharp Doric complemented by nickel-plated clip in an elegant Egyptian motif and triple cap bands with one wider, knurled band, and decorative bands at the ends of the cap and barrel. This piston filler holds far more ink than cartridges, converters, and lever fillers of the same size. It is filled by removing the blind cap to reveal the turning knob (see fillers photo), rotating the knob counter-clockwise until the piston is fully extended, submersing the nib, then rotating the knob clockwise until the piston is fully retracted. Big Bens came with two different 14k nibs depending on when they were made and for what market: a nib stamped ‘Big Ben’ in cursive font; and a nib stamped ‘1st Quality’ in the same distinctive font. This pen is equipped with the latter. That nib is a Flexible writer, laying down a smooth and consistent XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.9mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it an excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. Barrel transparency is superb with no staining and a yellow coloration (see DETAIL PHOTO). Nickel-plated trim is clean with no brassing or other notable wear aside from a tiny spot at the bottom terminus of the clip visible under a loupe, a couple spots on the lower cap band that have lost some of their original luster, and thinning of the plating on the blind cap’s thin decorative band. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on cap is deep and fully legible. Price: $330
 
6. 1930s Orion Everlasting 552 in Box with Papers (Black and Bronze, celluloid, GPT, lever filler, 14k XXF/XF Flex nib). This standard-sized model measures 5 1/4” capped. Orion was Danish company (located in Copenhagen) that imported quality pen parts from Germany and England and assemble the pens in Denmark. In 1933 they changed their name to Miller Pen Co., a writing instrument importer that exists to this day. This pen comes in its original factory box with exquisite paperwork (see DETAIL PHOTO). It’s made of the same black and Bronze celluloid Conklin used for the Endura, complemented by gold-plated trim with elegant, Art Deco clip stamped ‘Orion’. Flexible 14k Orion #2 nib lays down a smooth and consistent XXF/XF line that widens to a 3B+ (approx 1.8mm) under moderate pressure (see WRITING SAMPLE. )). Thin hairlines, strong, snap-back, and reliable flow over its full range of flex make it another excellent choice for expressive and shaded writing. Condition: excellent [B]. The only noteworthy flaw on this pen is brassing to the center of the clip over the Orion trademark. Trim is otherwise pristine with no noteworthy flaws. Celluloid surface is smooth and lustrous with no deep scratches or other notable blemishes - scarcely even any microscratches. Manufacturer imprint on barrel is deep and fully legible. Price: $240
 
 
 
Shipping: Pens purchased on the weekend are mailed on Tuesday. Otherwise they are mailed within 2 business days of payment. All pens that do not come with their original boxes are packaged in PVC or thick plastic tubes to protect them in transit. To CONUS locations the following shipping options are available:

• USPS First-Class with tracking for $5 Due to the delivery delays that continue under postmaster general DeJoy, I strongly recommend that the Priority shipping option be chosen. All packages will include full insurance (covered by me). Rest assured that a full refund is guaranteed (issued through Paypal) in the event of a lost parcel and you will not have to wait until I receive a reimbursement from the USPS.
  
• USPS Priority with tracking for $9
  

International Customers: Please contact me for shipping quote if located abroad (delivery confirmation required). (Note: due to the issues stated above, my international shipping options are currently limited. PM for more info). Please do not ask me to commit mail fraud by altering the declared value of a pen for customs. Not only am I registered as a business but shipping insurance is based on declared value.
New York Customers: For tax purposes, I am now required to add an 8% sales tax on any sale made in the state of NY. If your shipping address is in NY state, please let me know before payment to receive an adjusted total. Discounted shipping is included for NY State residents to help defray the extra cost.
Ordering: Pens are placed on hold for the first person to reply to the thread and PM me with firm request to purchase (no chat DMs please). A request with the words “I'd like to purchase [pen number]” would be best to avoid confusion), to which I’ll reply with payment details. Please note that a message inquiring into a price discount does not suffice to place a pen on hold. If I haven't received Paypal payment within 24 hrs after a hold is placed, then pen(s) may become available to the next person.
Payment, & Guarantee: Payment by Paypal only. All pens are guaranteed to be in the condition in which I've described them. If I've missed something objectionable or the filling mechanism is not fully functional, the buyer may contact me up to 7 days after receiving the pen for a full refund (issued once I receive the pen back in the same condition as sold). Buyer must ship the return no later than 2 weeks after it was delivered to receive a refund. I've sold pens online for over a decade. Please check my past listings here as well as on the classifieds and historical sales forums on FPN (username: Estragon) and FPGeeks (popcod) for some of my previous offerings.
 
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OTHER OPEN LISTINGS

• Superflex Pilot 53R Koi
  
• Vintage Montegrappa Extra Edacoto
  
• Waterman Nurse’s Sets
  
• Off-Catalogue Sheaffer Stubby Balance Lifetime
  
• Psychedelic Bayard Excselsior
  
• Waterman Taperite Citation
  
• Conklin Enduras, Nozac
  

I’m 17 years old and most of you are probably gonna all tell me the same thing or say it’s all apart of the teenage experience, which is probably true but fuck it sucks. I dated my ex on and off for 2 years, he never really knew what he wanted but closer to the end of March this year I decided to completely stop talking to him because I was just over the entire thing. A couple days later I met this other guy on an app where you can get in touch with other people your age and in your area, we’ll call this boy EP. He messaged me on the app first and we just had small talk before we followed each other on social media but after that he didn’t really message me or replied to my messages, he would reply to certain things I posted sometimes and I didn’t hide that I was interested in him because I would heart things that he posted often. But I didn’t try too hard because he wasn’t really giving the same energy back. About two weeks after all of this he messaged me randomly one night while it was late and he asked me what I was up to, I was cleaning and watching a movie at the time, he asked if he can come watch the movie with me, I took it as a joke at first and made a jokingly response but he told me he was serious and he was ready to be on his way as long as I said it was ok. I was a bit skeptical but I ended up letting him come over. We talked for a bit but we ended up having sex.
This is definitely something I ended up regretting and I’m not very proud of it and to make matters worse no protection was involved. Before he left he kissed me goodbye and told me he would text me later but he never really did. A few days later he replied to a story I posted and ignored me when I mentioned him ghosting me. It made me upset and I felt disgusting for a while but I didn’t make attempts to reach out or talk to him. I left it alone. That was until I started feeling sick almost everyday, I was way more tired than usual during the days and I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period like I was supposed to. I brought a pregnancy test and I took it with my friend and my school social worker and it came back positive. I tried to tell him the next day but he ignored me so I had my friend message him whom he replied to fast and she told him. He was denying it at first and was confused and asked what girl was she talking about, when she said it was me he kind of denied the possibility of it being him because he claimed he didn’t finish inside of me. I knew for certain it was by him because he was the first and only person I’ve slept with in 7 months. He ended up blocking my friend as she was texting him and he blocked my phone number but not on social media, he never blocked or removed me he just muted me. After that and I seen the way he reacted and knowing that I would more than likely be on my own with the kid if I were to have it I decided to tell my mom everything so she can schedule me an appointment for an abortion. She was upset but eventually she just became supportive through the entire process. My friend has another friend who used to go to school with ep and she had her talk to me and she basically told me that he’s a complete player and he does what he did to me all the time to other girls and she encouraged me to go through with the abortion. Shortly before I messaged him from a text now number and just went off on him and expressed my anger, he never replied back he probably didn’t even care but hey.
After all of that was taken care of I just fell into a depression and I’m still currently in. I know it’s my fault and I got myself into this mess on my own, and the crazy part about it all is that I haven’t cried not once, but I still feel hurt and dead on this inside, i decided to delete social media today because I find myself stalking his accounts too often. I even found his ex girlfriends pages, apparently they still talk and mess around with each other but on her social media she is very open about the relationship they had/have and she talked about how he cheated on he more than once, one time it was with one of her friends. There was just a lot she posted and it just appears that he’s just not a good guy but she has a harsh attachment to him which I understand, anyone’s who’s been in a toxic relationship before understands. I just found myself feeling bad for her but I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me so I didn’t make it my business too much.
But other than that I’ve just not been doing the best mentally and emotionally, I think about him too much, I’m tired of feeling this way, I feel like I don’t even have a valid right to feel the way I do about him because me and him never bonded emotionally or got to know each other. We have no type of emotional attachment but I do feel like my heart is broken and it has everything to do with him and what happened, I feel super delusional and crazy and I probably am. I made myself too vulnerable and easy and he took advantage of me during a weak moment in my life. I’m just taking it one day at a time now and being patient with myself and trying to focus on the next steps of my life since I just graduated high school. I have no interest or desire to talk to any boys anymore. Part of me still hopes that one day EP would reach out to me and give it a shot but I that’s probably unrealistic. I know I’ll get over it eventually.

Greetings, YelanMains! I come to you today with a different type of Yelan build. Instead of a build for her in-game, I'm gonna be showcasing how to build and play Yelan in Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition. This is something I've been doing for Genshin characters recently, and I wanna share it with you all.
Let’s start off with our goals for this build. First, we need to be a master at manipulation, intel gathering, and espionage. Secondly, we need to wield a bow, as that’s your weapon of choice. Lastly, we need to utilize magical abilities to support your allies, as while we won’t be able to replicate her abilities exactly, we’ll still keep that support role for her.
(Please note that I stopped playing Genshin when Yelan came out, so I know next to nothing about her lore or character other than she's like a spy for Ningguang or something like that)
For stats, we’ll be using the Standard Point array from the Player’s Handbook. Roll for stats if you want, just keep your Dexterity and Charisma high for multiclassing.
15 Charisma, as you are a master of manipulation and deception.
14 Dexterity, as you are nimble, and it’s the stat for bows.
13 Intelligence, as being a secret agent requires a sharp mind.
12 Wisdom, as you are very insightful and good at reading people
10 Constitution, as while I hate to have it low, you are canonically frail
And lastly, 8 Strength, as again, you are frail.
For Race, Yelan is a human, and Variant Humans get a Feat. The Actor Feat is perfect for going undercover. You get +1 to Charisma, advantage on Deception and Performance checks to pass off as another person, and you can spend a minute listening in on someone to mimic their speech. Bump your Intelligence and Charisma with your 2 Free points, take Perception for your Skill of choice, and the Spy Background for Stealth and Deception as you are an Intelligence Agent.
We’ll kick things off as a Rogue. 1st Level Rogues can pick 4 Skills from the Rogue list. Insight, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand, and Investigation would be my picks. You also get Expertise in 2 of those Skills, doubling your proficiency bonus with them. Go for Persuasion and Deception to order your way around everyone. You also learn Thieves Cant, letting you speak in secret code words, and Sneak Attack, giving you an extra d6 to add to a weapon attack once per turn if you either have advantage on the attack roll or have an ally within 5 feet of you.
2nd Level Rogues get Cunning Action, letting you Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action.
3rd Level Rogues get to pick a Roguish Archetype, and Inquisitive is useful for uncovering information. You have an Eye for Detail, letting you use a bonus action to make a Perception or Investigation check to find a hidden creature or object or check for clues. You also have an Ear for Deceit, meaning you cannot roll lower than an 8 on any Insight check to tell if someone is lying. You also get Insightful Fighting, letting you use a bonus action to have a creature you can see make a Deception check contested by your Insight check. If you succeed, then you can use your Sneak Attack on that creature without needing advantage or another ally for up to a minute or until you use it on someone else. Lastly, 3rd Level Rogues get Steady Aim, letting you use a bonus action to gain advantage on your next ranged attack roll as long as you don’t move or haven’t moved that turn, and Your Sneak Attack increases to 2d6.
4th Level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. We’ll take the Skill Expert Feat for +1 to Charisma, Proficiency in Intimidation, and Expertise in Insight.
Now that we have our sneaky Rogue stuff handled for now, let’s multiclass into Bard, as while Yelan isn’t a singer or performer, Bards, much like Rogues, are very good in social situations. Multiclassing into Bard gets you 1 free Skill. Acrobatics would be my pick. You get Bardic Inspiration, letting you use a bonus action to give an ally a d6 they can use to add to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw within the next 10 minutes, an amount of times per long rest equal to your Charisma modifier, similar to an Exquisite Roll. You can also cast spells as your Vision does grant you magical abilities. For your Cantrips, take Vicious Mockery and Message. For your spells, take Silvery Barbs, Charm Person, Dissonant Whispers, and Command.
2nd Level Bards get Jack of All Trades, letting you add half your proficiency bonus to any ability check you aren’t proficient with, which include initiative rolls. You also get Song of Rest, letting your allies add an extra d6 whenever they spend hit dice to restore HP during a short rest to keep them up in the field. You also get the option of Magical Inspiration, letting an ally who has a Bardic Inspiration die use it to add to the damage or healing of a spell.
3rd Level Bards can pick a Bard College, and College of Whispers is another fine choice for a deceptive and manipulative agent. You get Psychic Blades, letting you spend a Bardic Inspiration to deal an extra 2d6 Psychic damage with a weapon attack once per turn. You also get Words of Terror, letting you spend a minute talking to someone alone and have them make a Wisdom saving throw or be frightened by you or another creature you choose for up to an hour or until the target is attacked. If they succeed, they have no indication you tried to frighten them. You can now also learn 2nd Level Spells. Take the spells Hold Person and Zone of Truth to catch them in the net.
Last, but not least, 3rd Level Bards get Expertise in 2 more Skills. Go for Perception and Investigation.
4th Level Bards get an Ability Score Improvement. Cap your Charisma for the most Bardic Inspiration and better spells and skills. Take the spell Invisibility.
5th Level Bards get Font of Inspiration, meaning your Bardic Inspiration now recharges on a short rest as well, and it also upgrades from a d6 to a d8. You can also learn 3rd Level Spells. Take the Spell Nondetection. Your damage from Psychic Blades also increases to 3d6.
6th Level Whispers Bards get Mantle of Whispers, letting you use your reaction to capture the shadow of a humanoid that dies within 30 feet of you. Until you finish a long rest, you can use your action to assume the form of the Shadow, taking on the humanoid’s appearance for 1 hour or until you end it as a bonus action. While you're disguised, you gain access to all information that the humanoid would freely share with a casual acquaintance, Such information as general details on its background and personal life, and you gain a +5 bonus to Deception checks when someone tries to see through your disguise. Once you capture a shadow, you cannot do so again until you finish a short or long rest. For your spell, take Hypnotic Pattern.
Lastly, 6th Level Bards get Countercharm, letting you use your action to give you and your allies advantage on saving throws against being charmed or frightened, but this feature is honestly pretty bad.
Back to Rogue for the rest of the build. 5th Level Rogues get Uncanny Dodge, letting you use your reaction to halve the damage you take from an attack against you. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 3d6.
6th Level Rogues get Expertise in 2 more skills. Go for Stealth and Intimidation.
7th Level Rogues get Evasion, meaning when you make a Dexterity saving throw to avoid damage, you take no damage on a success, and only half on a failure. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 4d6.
8th Level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement. Bump your Dexterity for better AC, damage, and initiative.
9th Level Inquisitive Rogues get Steady Eye, giving you advantage on Perception and Investigation checks if you use no more than half your movement that turn. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 5d6.
10th Level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement. Keep bumping your Dexterity.
11th Level Rogues get Reliable Talent, meaning you cannot roll lower than a 10 on any skill you have Proficiency or Expertise with. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 6d6.
12th Level Rogues get our last Ability Score Improvement. Cap your Dexterity for the best damage, AC and Initiative.
We’ll finish off the build with 2 Levels in Fighter. 1st Level Fighters can pick a Fighting Style, and Archery will add +2 to the attack rolls you make with Ranged weapons. You also get Second Wind, letting you heal 1d10+your Fighter level as a bonus action once per short or long rest to stay up in the fight.
Our Capstone is the 2nd Level of Fighter for Action Surge, letting you take an additional action once per rest.
Now that we’ve hit Level 20, let’s go over the strengths of this build. First, you are insanely good in social situations. You have Expertise in 6 Skills, and paired with Reliable Talent, your minimum for any Charisma check is a 28, along with Mantle of Whispers, making you a master at gathering intel and espionage. You also have solid damage thanks to Action Surge, Sneak Attack and Psychic Blades, letting you deal up to 11d6+10 damage in a single round, with Steady Aim to gain advantage. Lastly, you’re a really good support with Bardic Inspiration and useful crowd control spells.
For weaknesses, you are VERY squishy, sitting at 105 average HP. While you do have Evasion, Uncanny Dodge, range, and a decent 17 AC with Studded Leather, if you’re caught in the wrong situation, then you’re gonna go down easily. You’re also vulnerable to Strength saving throws, meaning you can easily be tossed around. Lastly, you have multiple features that require your bonus action, meaning you’ll have to pick and choose what to use each turn.

I am about to start 1st round of stims (yay) and have coverage through Cigna and FamilyPath - $30k excluding meds. I was very excited because we also have a large HRA balance that should cover our deductible and OOP max. I did find out our policy excludes PGT-A testing so I’m on the hook for $1700 + $300 per embryo. I read our policy and seems pretty clear it doesn’t allow for embryo banking. Once im on my way with stims this week I will confirm for sure. Given my age (40) and desire for 2 kids, I was really hoping to do back-to-back cycles which my doctor supported if insurance covers. My job was eliminated June 1 so I am currently unemployed but was able to keep my medical benefits through (discounted) COBRA. After some googling I did find out my husband has progyny that covers 2 smart cycles and my clinic is in network with their insurance provider Aetna. I believe we have up to 60 days for life status change (losing my job / benefits) to switch over. Actually may only have 30/31 days. I’ve heard/read progyny is the best but I know every policy is different and I’m not sure how much information I can get before enrolling. Assuming it financially makes sense to switch (Cigna won’t let me bank embryos and need at least another ER), how big of a pain is it going to be to switch insurance in the middle of everything? Is it possible I may end up paying more with progyny somehow? I still have a bit of research on my end to see if it is worth going down this path but wanted to see if anyone has been in a similar boat? I know I’m very lucky to have insurance coverage let alone 2 to chose from!

I’m 17 years old and most of you are probably gonna all tell me the same thing or say it’s all apart of the teenage experience, which is probably true but fuck it sucks. I dated my ex on and off for 2 years, he never really knew what he wanted but closer to the end of March this year I decided to completely stop talking to him because I was just over the entire thing. A couple days later I met this other guy on an app where you can get in touch with other people your age and in your area, we’ll call this boy EP. He messaged me on the app first and we just had small talk before we followed each other on social media but after that he didn’t really message me or replied to my messages, he would reply to certain things I posted sometimes and I didn’t hide that I was interested in him because I would heart things that he posted often. But I didn’t try too hard because he wasn’t really giving the same energy back. About two weeks after all of this he messaged me randomly one night while it was late and he asked me what I was up to, I was cleaning and watching a movie at the time, he asked if he can come watch the movie with me, I took it as a joke at first and made a jokingly response but he told me he was serious and he was ready to be on his way as long as I said it was ok. I was a bit skeptical but I ended up letting him come over. We talked for a bit but we ended up having sex.
This is definitely something I ended up regretting and I’m not very proud of it and to make matters worse no protection was involved. Before he left he kissed me goodbye and told me he would text me later but he never really did. A few days later he replied to a story I posted and ignored me when I mentioned him ghosting me. It made me upset and I felt disgusting for a while but I didn’t make attempts to reach out or talk to him. I left it alone. That was until I started feeling sick almost everyday, I was way more tired than usual during the days and I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period like I was supposed to. I brought a pregnancy test and I took it with my friend and my school social worker and it came back positive. I tried to tell him the next day but he ignored me so I had my friend message him whom he replied to fast and she told him. He was denying it at first and was confused and asked what girl was she talking about, when she said it was me he kind of denied the possibility of it being him because he claimed he didn’t finish inside of me. I knew for certain it was by him because he was the first and only person I’ve slept with in 7 months. He ended up blocking my friend as she was texting him and he blocked my phone number but not on social media, he never blocked or removed me he just muted me. After that and I seen the way he reacted and knowing that I would more than likely be on my own with the kid if I were to have it I decided to tell my mom everything so she can schedule me an appointment for an abortion. She was upset but eventually she just became supportive through the entire process. My friend has another friend who used to go to school with ep and she had her talk to me and she basically told me that he’s a complete player and he does what he did to me all the time to other girls and she encouraged me to go through with the abortion. Shortly before I messaged him from a text now number and just went off on him and expressed my anger, he never replied back he probably didn’t even care but hey.
After all of that was taken care of I just fell into a depression and I’m still currently in. I know it’s my fault and I got myself into this mess on my own, and the crazy part about it all is that I haven’t cried not once, but I still feel hurt and dead on this inside, i decided to delete social media today because I find myself stalking his accounts too often. I even found his ex girlfriends pages, apparently they still talk and mess around with each other but on her social media she is very open about the relationship they had/have and she talked about how he cheated on he more than once, one time it was with one of her friends. There was just a lot she posted and it just appears that he’s just not a good guy but she has a harsh attachment to him which I understand, anyone’s who’s been in a toxic relationship before understands. I just found myself feeling bad for her but I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me so I didn’t make it my business too much.
But other than that I’ve just not been doing the best mentally and emotionally, I think about him too much, I’m tired of feeling this way, I feel like I don’t even have a valid right to feel the way I do about him because me and him never bonded emotionally or got to know each other. We have no type of emotional attachment but I do feel like my heart is broken and it has everything to do with him and what happened, I feel super delusional and crazy and I probably am. I made myself too vulnerable and easy and he took advantage of me during a weak moment in my life. I’m just taking it one day at a time now and being patient with myself and trying to focus on the next steps of my life since I just graduated high school. I have no interest or desire to talk to any boys anymore. Part of me still hopes that one day EP would reach out to me and give it a shot but I that’s probably unrealistic. I know I’ll get over it eventually.

1. Married over 3 years
2. Live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, for nearly two years I paid over 3k in bills monthly for us, albeit groceries she would pay here and there.
3. She doesn’t fulfil much of her rights, unless it benefits her. So much so, I felt sexually used and I stopped wanting to partake.
4. She is a narcissist, and has a victim complex. Every time we had major issues, I either suggest or directly tell her to go to her mom’s house nearby, so we can have space or to end it. Only for her to realize her wrongs, make promises, and break them. I can’t go to my mother’s house ome for various reasons, so I follow the ayah in surah Baqarah. Why? Because she has been physically abusive…
5. That’s right, she has assaulted me many times. Once even attempting to take my life, with hers, in a car crash.
6. Each time, she wanted to run home and tell her family she’s done. Only to come back non chalant a few days later, or same day, as if nothing happened. I’d send her back sometimes when this happens, for my safety.
7. She herself, and on recording, has stated many many times that there is nothing wrong with our marriage from my end. She is clearly attracted to me she says, as well as has love for me. She acknowledged it was her mental health issues, that she continues to follow and allow. I’ve tried getting her help many times but these therapists only serve her ego.
8. She prays. Consistently. But the entire thing is hypocritical. It’s great that she prays, but when I finally as a last straw show her the abundance of Hadiths and verses in Quran where Allah says women of her kind will be in hellfire, and that her deeds will not go above her shoulders in acceptance, and that she will be cursed by Allah for her transgressions against me; she simply doesn’t care. She tries to act like it, but only when it serves her methodical interests.
9. For years I gaslit myself, thinking I’m the issue someway somehow. That as a man I take ultimate responsibility for my marriage, and I must model good conduct for her at the very least so that I’m no hypocrite. Little did I know, after ruling out every possibility I could imagine, she does this on purpose. She knows what she’s doing.
10. I supported her through her final years in education, what do I get in return? More manipulation and toxicity that would never fly if it were the opposite.
11. Without a shred of doubt I can I have grew from this, I have no regrets. I tried all I could, I’m no stranger to conflict mediation or mental health, and I was the most understanding direct and straightforward with communication before during and after any argument she would cause. After any argument, I reset within an hour at the most. The next day, it’s like she never did me wrong in my mind; I always just want to move on, and I never expect her to justify, apologize, etc. in fact, I discourage it, so her ego doesn’t have her in defensive mode. That’s what leads to her getting physical eventually. All I ever asked of her at this point, was don’t start arguments and dress modestly outside the home - as she has been for years in the marriage but always acts brand new when I point something revealing or tight out.
12. Her innocent image, and my empathy nearly went down the drain the day she went to her mom’s house during an argument. That’s when everything went downhill for good. Our families got involved. — I stopped working awhile back to focus on this, and to get to the bottom of it. Either we move forward together or not. So many long conversations, for it to go out the other ear.
13. Until now, her family generally thinks I’m abusive, and controlling. In fact, my family members mostly think the same! No matter what I told mine, they didn’t bother to listen intently. She even called my father and told him, for the first time, all the things I’ve done to her the past months! This was days after he tried mediating over the phone.
14. I proceeded to have a terrible phone call with him, yelling back at the top of my lungs so angry that I get this treatment when if this was my sister none of us would treat her this way. She successfully did a smear campaign, as she planned to. Ruining relationships I hold dear.
15. To be clear: I am yet to tell her family her wrongs. That’s the love and decency I hold. Not love for her as a wife, just as a human being who can change. We aren’t our choices of past, but we are what we choose today, as long as we continue trying to stick to them in goodness. She hasn’t tried, even till now.
16. As a man, it’s not easy telling loved ones, and her own parents, that she was abusive. I do not wish to partake in that game of self-victimisation, even if mine is the truth. As men, we aren’t afforded that in society, I know I never have. Lately, she has been at home, due to her family telling her to stop coming to her mom’s every issue she has. Perhaps they are noticing that something more is going on, since I’m not replying my to their messages. I, after all I went through don’t need to go explain all to them or anyone. Allah knows my pain, Allah knows my struggles. I tried my best to be honourable about this, and in my conduct, and I had a great cost enduring all this for so long. Alas, I don’t regret it, I don’t get sad for those years spent. I’m grateful for all the lessons taught, and the resiliency Allah has reminded me that I have. I know my worth, and my value. The only thing that hurts, is she doesn’t fight against her nafs, and I don’t need to fight it for her. I was about to end it all recently, the day she called my father. She won’t stop, she will continue going great lengths to destroy someone so great to her. There is no reason she has, nor I can assign that she does this other than her deep psychological issues.
17. Trust me, I thought of it all. I even asked her many many times if there was something she’s hiding, and if she is I will swear by Allah to hide it for her, and we simply end it amicably and decide the mutual divorce story to share to our families so they don’t ask more questions. she declined, every time. I can only conclude she is pure evil, I have never in my entire life met someone like this; and it sucks, cause she is so loving and incredible under all of it. I can imagine her inner battle, cause I’ve been through it when I was younger. Except she doesn’t choose to try and change. She loves it.
18. So as I recharge at home, asking her to give me space, I now take it day by day, planning the speech to give to her family, when we both go and she confesses, taking accountability for her acts. Then, I’ll get my mehr back and we split ways. I just hope I’m alive still by then.

To clarify:

1. I knew about marriage very very well, before going in, and I vetted her at length. I’m also not a ‘simp’, or believe in ‘happy life happy wife’. To add, there has never been intimacy issues, or anything that I ask other then for her to work on her communication skills as they as toxic. I gave her a space for her to have support, love, and peace, more so knowing that I am fine with space apart or even going the entire day in the same home without talking if needed. It brings out a side of me that’s crazy, and she loves it. I am not contemplating just cause of her, it’s the hardship I’ve been through for these years; just for it to fall apart with my own family for what? How dare my family, my own father, believe her without trying to unbiasedly understand and hear me out. She knows the power she has in today’s society, and she abuses it, willingly. That’s dangerous power. But her ‘power’ is all Allahs will, and Allah is the best of planners. I just worry she makes it all worse, and it ruins my jobs and future in the community view. I don’t want to have to restart my entire life I built here.

this one is long and complicated so buckle up. all names are fake for privacy. sorry for the formatting, i’m on mobile.
relevant info: I am 22, my husband is 22 and a navy veteran.
i gave my brother my old iphone 11 when i upgraded in 2022. i cant remember if i factory reset it or not.
Selena lives in Grant County, OR. My father lives in Walla Walla, WA. My parents got divorced in Oct 2023, and my mother and sister (9)came to live with my myself, my husband and our daughter in Hampton Roads, VA.
the 5 of us are currently driving back from va to wa.
My brother is trans. (FTM)
in summer 2023, my brother, Jaxon (16m) asked if he could go spend a school year with my moms (Liz, 40F) best friend at the time (Selena, 41m). He wanted to do this so he could work on Selena’s dad’s farm and save money for a car. My mom thought it would be good for him, so she signed a power of attorney agreement that expired when the school year was over (june 7, 2024), meaning at that time she relinquished guardianship back to my mother and father, and Jaxon would be driven back home to my parents.
During the school year, i received many middle of the night calls of him sobbing and saying he “couldn’t do this anymore.” he vented to me, sent me videos, and told me these things:

• she misgendered and deadnamed him constantly, forced him to dress femininely
  
• she didn’t pay him for the work he was doing on the farm (from 4 am until school (8AM), then after school (4pm) until 11pm, forcing him to stay up extra late (1-3AM) to complete homework.) i should also note that i have access to his bank account and i have not seen a single deposit for over a year.
  
• she screamed at him constantly, telling him he was a failure (his grades had started slipping from a Bs to a Cs), that he needed to suck it up and quit being a crybaby (he was exhausted and depressed because of poor sleep, being overworked, not being allowed to have friends)
  
• she constantly took away the only phone he had (his only line of communication to myself and my mother) whenever she felt like it. (usually just when she was pissed off)
  
• shoving him, destroying his art projects (he’s a clay sculptor), throwing away his homework if he left it on the table overnight, and much more.
  
• my mother and i both have recorded phone calls of Jaxon secretly calling us while she was screaming at him about something or other
  
• she forced him to detail her truck and he found coke and meth in the truck. he called me, telling me he thought he found drugs. i asked him to describe it to me, and it turned out to be a bag of meth and a bag of coke. i had him send me pictures, which i still have.
  

being across the country, my mother and i couldn’t do anything to help him get out of that situation. every time we offered to buy a plane ticket for him so come to VA, Selena would say “(he) needs to finish school” and my father was out of the country for work until May this year, so he couldn’t do anything either.
we did call the sheriff of grant county for a welfare check (multiple times) and they told us they couldn’t do anything unless there were visible marks or Jaxon’s life was in imminent danger. we called DHS/CPS (in december, when the problems started) and they told us they’d look into it. nothing ever came of that.
The day before school was officially over, Selena searched Jaxon’s backpack and found weed in it. (she had previously told him she didn’t care about weed because it’s legal in oregon) but she flew off the handle, screaming at him for HOURS. (he called me during her rant and some of the things i heard made my blood boil.
She then decided to STRIP SEARCH MY 16 YEAR OLD FTM BROTHER. this was his breaking point. he waited until about 2 AM, when he knew she was in bed, on June 7, then called one of his friends. they drove him back to my fathers house. (from john day OR to Walla Walla, WA.) when Jaxon told me he was with my dad, i relayed the info to Selena. She said “ok good”
about 2 hours after Jaxon had returned to my dad’s care, Selena texted me this:
“(Jaxon) has 24 hours to get (his) ass back here before i go to the police to charge (him) with minor in possession.”
i ignored her, not wanting to engage with her rage baiting. she sent more texts, all threatening to charge my brother (in Oregon) with a MIP (he doesn’t have drugs on his person currently, there is no video/photo evidence that the weed was even Jaxons, and he is back with his legal guardian in WA.)
when she got no response from myself or my mother other than “he’s with his dad”, she switched tactics. and texted me this:
“Please have (Jaxon) call me so i know he is safe”
i replied “ok” and relayed the info to my brother. he refuses to call her because she was horrible to him and he doesn’t want to be screamed at.
when he didn’t call her yesterday, she texted me, telling me she would call CPS on my father, the police, anything she could think of to try and scare me.
i texted her this yesterday at 8 AM after she tried calling me 10 times and texted me over 50 times with no reply.
“(Jaxon) is safe, he's with his parent (which trumps your power of attorney, which is over anyway. boo hoo.) thank god i don't have to pretend to like your snake ass anymore. go ahead and call cps, (Jaxon) has said (father) makes him feel safe, especially from you. so yeah!! go ahead, call CPS, and when they do nothing, go cry. sorry that you can't use my BROTHER for slave labor anymore, guess you'll have to actually HIRE someone at the farm now (boo hoo again). this is your official notice that any further contact with (father), my mother, or (Jaxon) will be documented for a harassment case and restraining order. have a fun life doing meth and being crazy, but don't involve us in it anymore. toodalooo!!!”
she then began texting my mom, threatening me with CPS for videos of me smoking weed (that i sent him on snapchat) and me talking about my struggle with cocaine addiction. (i’ve been clean since Halloween 2020). i haven’t replied to anything, simply screenshotting the messages and call logs, adding them to a folder to turn into police once we get to washington. harassment charges and restraining order.
after no replies, she once again started BOMBARDING my mother with texts. i’m copy/pasting some texts but changing names. my mother also didn’t respond, simply screenshotted and sent the pics to me for the folder.
“If she (referring to me) wants to continue to run her fat mouth....I have no issues releasing the videos I have to the police. Videos that she has no idea I have....from (Jaxon's) phone! I have 2 notebooks full of writing from (Jaxon) and countless screenshots as well as....this is the best part....the entire storage of (his) iPhone. Backups from every social media platform (he) has!!!”
(i know for a fact the backups off the iphone are bullshit bc he’s part of my iphone family and i would be notified if she tried to download anything from the cloud onto an unrecognized device. not to mention that she doesn’t have the icloud password. but that is neither here nor there.)
“"I want you to get the message across to (father) that I'm not playing. (Jaxon) needs to contact me....NOT (father) ....so that I know (Jaxon) is.... SAFE Mentally Stable /not suicidal Not on drugs I'm actually amazed that you and (father) think having her contact me after I have been the one caring for her is to much to ask. It screams dishonesty and feels like you guys are hiding something. There is no reason whatsoever (he) can't speak to me on the phone! If (he) is mad...to bad. If (he) is crying and claiming (he) don't want to talk to me for whatever reason.. oh fucking well. (Jaxon) has always been safe in my presence and in my care so I know for a fact (he) can not claim otherwise.”
“So again armed with enough shit to not only have everyone facing a bunch of charges, but to be garunteed that cps will be knocking at your door in Virginia as well...you might want to have (him) give me a call so this will end before it really truly begins.”
“I'm headed to the police station now. Done playing games. Couch Lusco is also willing to testify in my favor. As is two other teachers that (he) has made claims of abuse to.”
at this point i called my brother, and asked him to just text Selena to get her off my moms back.
this is their entire conversation:
J: I'm safe, mentally stable, not on drugs, and looking to further educate myself over the summer as well as apply for a job or two to pay my way.
S: Call me. Or I'm going to the cops with all the videos. Simple. You don't think I don't know your sister cant access your fb page
J: My sister has access to literally everything on that phone because of the cloud backup. She could wipe it all clean with the press of a button, not to mention a cop isn't gonna take me in for an mip of a cigarette or a blunt. It's not that deep.
(he is referring to the iphone Selena supposedly “backed up”)
Jaxon sent mom the screenshot of their convo, and she sent it to Selena. the following convo ensued:
S: Lmao that was (kyber) on (Jaxon’s) account! IM NOT GOING TO STOP UNTIL I KNOW THAT CHILD IS SAFE (Liz)!!
L: No it was not. I got those DIRECTLY from Jaxon. (mom didn’t reply to any texts after this)
S: I'm going to make everyone lives a giant fucking mess until (he) contacts me....PERIOD Pretty fucking simple. I'm going to take all the information (he) has given me that supports my reasons to be concerned and let the authorities do the rest.
S: Whats funny in all of this is that there is no reason (Jaxon) can't contact me. What am I going to do? Hurt (him) through a phone? Don't be dumb (Liz). Ypu are the only level headed person enough to see the bullshit games this kid will play as well as a good enough mom to understand why I am worried.
S: And (Jaxon) is right...they arnt going to take (him) for an MIP....but they ARE going to investigate the videos further I garuntee that! (He) is a minor and I promise you that they won't take any of it lightly!!!
S: You need to understand that (Jaxon) has already told me what (kyber) does. I know that wasn't (Jaxon) on Facebook because (he) wasn't caught with a fuckkng blunt.
S: What I don't understand is why you guys are acting like it's to much to ask to hear from (him)
S: If (father) does not have the ability or control to make his child behave then why is (he) in his care? Actually It don't matter I have been more then patient It's now a matter of (his) safety! Im going to the police!!!
S: I have never hurt that child or put (him) in a situation to be hurt. I'm perfectly content with (him) staying in walla...but I want to hear (him) say that so I know (he) is safe! If that makes me a bad person....I'm fine with that!!
S: (Liz)...l'm begging you! Please don't make me turn all of this in just because (Jaxon) has made up a bunch of bullshit to play the victim and make everyone look bad!
S: Understand something....I GAIN NOTHING FROM DOING THIS!! (He) either calls me or I spill all (his) secrets and not because I gain a damn thing.....but because I need to know (he) is safe and if (he) refuses to contact me then the only other person I will allow to validate (his) safety is going go be a police officer.
after this text she tried to call my mom more than 20 times in 10 minutes. all of which were declined, screencapped, and sent to me for the folder.
i’m just wondering what to do in this situation? she is threatening to call CPS, the cops, whatever she can do to try and intimidate me, mother, and father.
please help.

🌸Heyya, I love to play fortnite (nobuild), overwatch and apex a lot and am trying to socialize a bit more. I also like chill games, cute coop games and everything in between. My singleplayer favorites are cyberpunk, elden ring and red dead redemption 2. I am not very good and only reached gold in ow and platinum in apex so far so someone on my general level would be nice although I do not mind carrying if I can. Im much of a movie and show enjoyer so im always down to watch something together or just send each other tt memes. Im honestly down for whatever, just trying to make a few new friends and play some games occasionally. If any of this sounds like we might match just shoot me a message, who knows, maybe we can turn out to be besties 👀💕
I usually don't have a lot of time and I spend a huge amount with my boyfriend but for a new gaming buddy Im gonna try my best to make time (: Other than that I like fashion, working out and drawing/painting. I'm also learning a 3rd and 4th language (spanish and czech) and I am very interested in coding but only learned very rough basics yet.
I am from europe and my timezone is gmt+1, I only play on Pc. IF YOU ARE A GUY PLEASE DONT CONTACT ME!

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Rewatching all of RK's tweets...
https://x.com/TheRoaringKitty/status/1790819440617033914
This really resonates right now with RK and his GME options...

• He'll turn back he'll be too afraid - He'll sell his options in fear of price dropping below $20. Sell for something rather than nothing.
• Give me some lightning - Tank the price / rock the boat. Again and again and again.
• The whole world is watching - Everybody knows what's going on.
• Can't let him die in front of a live audience - Can't kill the stock infront of a live audience... super weird as it kind of looked like this on Friday.
• Cheering fans - All of us cheering him on.
• You can do it, hold on - self explanatory
• Is that the best you can do? - self explanatory

RK must have loosely known the journey he was going to go through to June 21st with these options. I don't see what else this could be referring to or be about.