I am a 28F. In my past, I have only dated men but as of last year I've been in a relationship with a woman. Best relationship I've been in and I am happier than ever. But my family isn't happy and they are not supportive.
Me and my gf were in a long distance relationship so I was traveling back and forth between my home-state and hers. My mom would often take me to the airport and pick me up but I thought it was weird she never asked how my trips would go. So, a few months ago, I stopped asking her to take me to the airport. She told my grandma that I left and my grandma texted me saying that I was "sinning" I told my grandma, "don't ever fucking text me again and just for that I'm not coming back." I was already planning to move in with my gf.
After the chaos, I came home and started packing my stuff since I was living with my mom. A few weeks passed, and I tried to make amends with my mom. I told her it bothered me that we weren't talking and that I missed her. I told her I just wanted her support and respect. Regardless, I wanted her to be there for me. She didn't really validate my feelings, she just said she didn't like how I disrespected her and my grandma and that I keep calling them judgmental when they're not. I got frustrated, raised my voice and told her they are being judgmental. I walked out of her room and left the house to cool off for a bit.
A few days later, my mom tried to talk to me in my room. I guess since our last conversation didn't go well. I thought she was going to try to make amends but instead the first thing she says is, "What's going on? you are not gay for real. What happened?" I basically told her that she thinks she knows me but she doesn't. She basically told me she can't support my decision. So, I told her at this point that's fine, we no longer have anything to talk about and I said, just get out of my room. She wouldn't get out. I kept yelling at her to get out and she refused. I stood up, and I guess she felt threatened. Everything is a blur so I am not sure if I did raise my hand like I was going to hit her but I know instead I picked up a lint roller acting like I was going to throw it at her but instead I put it down. So instead, I tried to close the door on her to push her out. She's a lot stronger so she bulldozed her way through the door. We were sort of wrestling standing up. We fell on my bed, and she tried to choke me but didn't squeeze. I was shocked so I called the police.
Long story short, the cops talked to us and they arrested her...I was not aware that the state I live in arrests the person who is viewed as the aggressor. I felt so bad, I just called them because I wanted it documented and for advice on how to live with people you don't get along with. Now my family views me as the enemy. AITA?

Freshly back and awake after a twelve day stint for my first time there. I knew that I wanted to go in general, and while I didn't have a firm itinerary planned out, there was one main goal that I had in terms of sites within the country. The main video game that I play is Beatmania IIDX, and it has internal trophies which are represented as badges. Your profile allows you to assign up to five of them as visible when you start a new round, and there are badges to earn for playing at least one round in every prefecture in Japan, as well as every subregion. Getting the Kanto badge meant that I needed to play at least one round in Tokyo, Kanagawa, Saitama, Gunma, Tochigi, Ibaraki, and Chiba. After five days, I had that complete, and now I have a permanent record of this trip within the game itself. There was also a time-limited event to earn points in IIDX in order to exchange them for goods, such as a hat, or a towel, or a new account card and a poster, and I managed to get that taken care of in somewhat dramatic fashion. I did some other things too.
Primary general points
· Getting Suica set on the phone and using it was generally painless. There were only two times where I needed to summon the help of a resident JR employee to clear up an issue with the gate not reading the card for some reason.
· Most vocal interaction which I had was the opposite of painless, because I continuously kept trying to speak Japanese and failing, and most people would realize that I was completely failing at it and responded with English (some with full on sentences, others with just a few words). There were a few rare times that I was able to express my intent in Japanese, receive a response, understand the response, and reply as necessary, but that was rare. Once English was invoked, I would stay with it, because that's what they were expecting. I've been self-studying the language for more than twenty years in varying degrees of intensity, and while my reading comprehesion seemed sufficient enough for this trip, and while I didn't expect my speaking to be as good because I don't have any opportunity to practice speaking, I came away bitterly disappointed in my vocal and speaking comprehension in terms of my interaction with people there. Even within the trip I could at least overhear common chitchat better, but any time I needed to converse with someone for some reason, I usually needed to have things repeated several times and broken down before I finally realized what was being said.
· You are going to be asked about separately buying a bag with every non-food purchase. Accept or immediately present one that you are carrying to indicate how your purchase shall be bagged.
· I never once had my passport requested for presentation.
· Only once did a person volutnarily reach out to address me, and it was just to ask me where I was from in English. Otherwise, everyone left me alone the entire time.
· Weather through the period was ideal. Mid to upper 70F/25C range and only a few days where it was rainy, and even then it wasn't a downpour. A while ago I personally resolved to only wear suits in public and I purchased a new pair of Mephisto shoes after hearing reports of the extensive walking causing problems for traveller's feet and shoes. My attire help up well; there were only a few times that I needed to avoid sunlight to not get too hot, and I have no issues to report from the shoes.
· I only got X'd out of a restaurant one time, and I think it's only because I wandered into it before it was ready for service. Otherwise, I never once waited in line for food, I never once went to restaurant more than once, and all food was acceptably priced for the portion and excellent for the quality.
For these per-day recounts, I wrote them contemporaneously at the end of each day, so you'll need to forgive me for some writing being in present tense and other writing being in past tense.
Day 1 - Travel, Sugamo, Ikebukuro
Non stop flight from Chicago OHare to Haneda. 12 hours. Good thing I usually don't watch movies, because that just means that all I needed to do was binge a few to make the trip go by.
Pre-trip research led me to choose APA Sugamo as my home base for the visit, and I think that it was a very fortuitious choice. I'll have more to say about it later.
Some awkward encounters happened right away upon checking in here. I was at the nearby Family Mart to buy some things and I didn’t catch that he was making sure I wanted a bag until he repeated it five times. Yes, I’ll take it. Before getting there I was coming down to ground level after checking into my room, and when that person saw that I would have been the only other person going down to the ground, they ducked right back out. I was warned on both of these kinds of things happening, so I guess it’s good to have that immediately out of the way. It would turn out that people deliberately avoiding me was rare throughout the trip.
Despite not sleeping on the trip, I had freshly arrived and had no sense of being tired, so once I had my stuff down, I went off to Ikebukuro right away. No picture or video truly conveys how crowded these areas can get. It can only be experienced in person to be understood.
I soon found Round One Ikebukruo and went right in. So dense and loud. It’s entirely alien to me to see no less than ten IIDX machines in operation and all of them in use. I dumped the money into random tickets, as I foresaw doing, but now I have to wonder if that was the right thing to do, or if it’s tied to that location. I guess I’ll find out.
The forecast is for rain so I need to be in a hurry to figure out where I’m going to go. There might be only one day left for me to get my time limited toys.
Day 2 - Kawasaki, Kanagawa - Utsunomiya, Tochigi - Oomiya, Saitama
My body decided that it only needed four hours of sleep this morning. Without doing more research, I somehow decided to assume that more of the Round One locations were close to 24 hours of operation much like Ikebukuro. Answer: no. I hopped on the train early and went to Shibuya first, but it was very quiet, so I decided to get some of the travels out of the way today and headed south to Kawasaki. I still needed to dawdle for a while until Silk Hat opened at 900AM, and when I finally was able to get inside, I was only able to verify that their store had several allotments of the campaign goods and all allotments were out. Played one round on a monitor that was surprisingly blurry, and I don’t know why that would be the case with a lightning model, but it was, so that was enough.
After doing all of that, I resolved to try to go to Chiba and Ibaraki afterwards. I figured that with Kanagawa and Tokyo likely all out, going to the outskirts would make more sense. However, there was an injury on one of the rails that threw everything off normal, and the train I found myself riding was bound for Utsunomiya instead. Seeing as how I was going to go there eventually, I rolled with it.
It doesn’t take too long to move away from Tokyo metropolitan area before you encounter more forest like areas and rice paddy fields. Halfway through the trip I noticed that two older women suddenly hopped off while the train was waiting to go to the next stop, and I followed them when I realized they found the express line. Utsunomiya has a substantial size to its area and buildings but it was very quiet on the streets there in midday. Walked a mile to Sega GIGO, found that they didn’t even have the goods tracker up. All out. Interesting buliding for it having several neon signs, all vintage and authentic at that. Getting to there from the south meant cutting through Saitama, so I knew I had enough time to make one last attempt there. Research shown two stores being near Oomiya station, so that’s where I ended up. Taito Station was immediately visible upon exit, and they have two IIDX machines specifically with 20 gram springs, which is closer to my home setup and that much lighter than standard 50 gram springs. The final hour drew near and I made one last visit to that city’s Round One. Unlike nearly every other place I went to so far, it only had one IIDX machine. However, and maybe because of that, their goods listing didn’t show everything as out. One painful language exchange later, I was able to discern that what I wanted was available. When you spend more than 3000 yen in a single credit, the game wants to verify if you really want to proceed. It does it again at 6000 and 9000. Yes, I really do. But, having made that money dump I was able to get my hands on the e-amuse card and poster with fifteen minutes left before the deadline. Mission complete. By this point in the day it was exceedingly difficult to even look at the screen so I was ready to come home, but not before getting some goods at the Oomiya Book Off and redeeming what I could for points at Round One Ikebukuro. By the end of the day the only thing that I could tolerate doing was to buy some chicken and nigiri from the nearby train station. Good enough. At that point in the day my body felt like it wants to rock back and forth after all the train riding done today. But, it ended up being worthwhile after all.
One nostalgic feeling I had the most strongly in the day was at the Utsunomiya location where the smell of it triggered past buried memories of yesteryear. I think I want to attribute it to the stronger second hand cigarette smell but I’m not sure - all the same I felt its presence strongly there. Also, I don’t see Oomiya (or really Saitama itself) mentioned as a fun place to go, but it might serve as an acceptable alternative to Ikebukuro, only not as massive in scale of human quantity. Depending on how the trip goes in total I may end up back there for IIDX playing, at least if I don’t find any other place that has 20G springs.
Day 3 - Akihabara
With the travels out of the way, it was time to keep things more regionalized and stick to one area, and there is shopping that needs to be done, so it was off to Akihabara and to see how much of other posted tales hold true. The answer is that it is a lot of it. Kotobukiya can stand to open sooner than noon. Super Potato is indeed priced for a market which wants to snap up anything cheap - I at least found Xi for under 500 and felt that it would have been a bit silly to buy only that, but it didn’t make spending 2000 on one single issue of Arcadia any better. I had no idea that Hey Arcade was right next to both of them; while it was assuredly nice to be there and see the row of Cave shooters among everything else, something got messed up with my registration of my new eamuse card with everything else, so that quickly added to my stress. Having to carry around a few hundred dollars worth of crap with every step didn’t help matters. At least I was able to help a person recover their lost phone by applying a bit of logic to the situation and deducing it to belong to the only person there who looked French, as it was on the Lock Screen. They were relieved, yes. Then, rain came, and it was more than I was anticipating, and I left the umbrella at the room, particularly since I knew I’d be shopping this day. It also turns out to have not mattered much, because I went to visit Bic Camera so that I could get myself a hair trimmer while here, and that turned into me finding a bunch of Kit Kats available, so that meant a second bag. The wind kicked out the rain and my umbrella. In trying to get as many gifts secured as possible, I found some gachapon, but it needed 100Y coins, and I didn’t need paper money in the trip yet. After fighting with maps, I found an ATM to get cash, and got the gachapon. I came home late with feeling rather crushed about the day in that I couldn’t take pictures very well with having to juggle weather and bagging considerations. There were some nice parts of the experience to be sure but between that and more gawking at Super Potato pricing ($135 for PS3 Caladrius? $6000 for Pulstar?) and seeing similar markups on other goods, I don’t think it’s unfair to say that there is a reputation that this area carries and the pricing is there to go with it.
Day 4 - Laundry Day. Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku
I was so drained at the end of Day 3 that I fell asleep on the bed immediately after ending the night call, which meant that I woke up at 0200AM to a room that was fully lit. This meant that I needed to look up how to resolve my eamuse problem or else I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. I did both. Awake at 0800AM meant that I had time to do laundry while I figured out what to do with the rest of the day. This meant that I was able to get more of Sugamo in pictures, and it was nice to be able to walk among the actual residences, and do other things like come across a school as it was actually in session. With them being close by and all in succession, I figured to get Shibuya, Harajuku, and Shinjuku visited. It turns out to have been a good day for it, as the temperature was perfectly cool and no rain came, and the sun came out only for a little bit. Shibuya somehow doesn’t seem quite as large in scope in person but the crowds were definitely there, and it is much more hilly than I anticipated as well. After wandering around and not seeing any arcade for a bit, I came across a series of coffee and cookie shops and remained strong to not indulge. It was there while looking at a Disney store (which gets tourists to take pictures of it for some reason) that the song Alone Again came on through the nearby public speakers. What timing. It drove me to finally get a treat for myself, and the frozen latte (black sesame and houji) and croissant (dark chocolate filing) were certainly good, it ended up costing more than the dinner I’d have later this day. I found a seclusion with a garbage can to eat the food and not carry the trash around, then an arcade soon after, and it was time to determine if I could fix the problem. Just like an easy click, it was. New to trash. Old to new. Done. Why did it have to be this way. Harajuku came next, and the environment there was distinct. This one in particular felt like it was an extended carnival atmosphere with the single tight knit market street and emphasis on fashion. A conversation with a freelance artist in the subway actually went well enough that I didn’t feel dumb. The same sensation carried to Shinjuku as well, only it was more spread out. Kabuki street was interesting to see in person, and I didn’t get any unseemly vibes from the place. Maybe it’s different later at night. A return home at a reasonable time allowed me to go down Sugamo’s market street a bit; most of it was closed, but it was interesting to come across the few remaining stores that were open by 0800PM, and more so the one that wasn’t. Coming back to the hotel I found a 24 hour ramen shop with nobody inside. The chef didn’t want to speak and only pointed to the ordering kiosk when I addressed her. The food came through a slot in the obscured window. At least her thank you as I left was a bit more warm, and the food was certainly delicious. To match with the matcha dessert that I bought from Sugamo station, I swung by a 7Eleven to get a drink, and found a milk tea for cheaper than a vending machine. The overhead music in the store was an instrumental version of Alone Again.
Day 5. Ibaraki - Mount Tsukuba, Miraidaira. Kashiwa, Chiba. Akihabara 2.
Awake at 0500AM on my own and knowing the current forecast meant that my envisioned plan for the day was quickly realized. Reaching the Tsukuba Express starting point from Akihabara needs you to get very far down into the ground before getting out into sunlight. I was on the ride early enough to see schoolchildren going about their commute, some of them being no older than ten and going about it unaccompanied. The people of Tsukuba seemed to be particularly helpful and cheerful that day, even despite my Suica issues at the gate. I didn’t ask his name at the counter but the man at the service desk was eager to speak with me about my career and what I was doing there. One asked where I was from on the way up to the summit and another caught my cable car ticket on the way down. There had to have been a few of them who saw my doing this climb in my business attire and thinking me to be a complete idiot if not outright mocking them for doing it that way while they employed the use of dual walking sticks and the like. I know I read some reports of the home stretch being difficult, but it did get pretty close to being an actual rock climb instead of a trail hike for that part of it. A quick stop to Miraidaira on the way back to get the Ibaraki play. The way the town center greets you upon leaving the rail gate struck me as incredible, as well as for how quiet it was. It was like walking onto a movie set. I did find the sweet shop after the play, and that was another painful interaction yet again. Oh well. Two quick stops down Tsukuba Express and one across from Tobu Urban Park line was enough to have a toe in Chiba, and I didn’t even need to leave the physical building of the train station to get to the basement level to find a machine for a play. Thank you, Kashiwa, you were great. Gunma is all that’s left. The descent from Tsukuba did take some earnest exertion, and after doing that the two stops, that put me back in Akihabara about when I anticipated; what I failed to anticipate is how much that place seems to drain on me. I think I just need to eat at an actual dinner time. Once I got back to Sugamo and had food it was a bit better, but while in Akihabara and being around that environment, and not finding things on a shopping list, I found myself just standing still and watching life pass me by. I hemmed and hawed a while for a maid girl’s hour of service for chitchat, but eventually I talked myself out of it because I just didn’t want potential trouble, just like her name. Komaru. I thought about doing this once just to say that I did, but I ultimately decided against it. You cannot go to this place with the expectation that you will find anything unless it is advertised and new. If you are looking for anything used, don’t count on it being there. You also cannot go there without having a strong resolve to not engage with the touts, because it becomes disheartening to see them do their job and blankly stare at the world when they're forced to stand out there and do nothing. Back to Sugamo to find a place that advertised Wagyu but the price they wanted was more than I wanted to spend. The ramen and seaweed & rice servings were fine, but they advertised endless drink and I didn’t receive that. All for $20? No, son. I did better than that elsewhere, I’ll know better now. Long day.
Day 6 - Tokyo Flea Market, Nakano Broadway, Ueno.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this weekend. I’ve read reports that the flea market held near the horse race track will be arbitrarily cancelled regardless of what is reported on the website, but my gut instinct told me that it would occur today, and it did. Turns out that a flea market is a flea market which is a flea market, no matter where it happens. Same allotment of clothes and stuff that few people really want to buy, although I was able to find myself some neckties at least. I probably overpaid based on what I saw later in the route, but that’s fine. They look nice. I settled on some shot glasses for a gift as well, but I’m surprised that I can’t ind something ornate that isn’t part of a sake set. Seated in the shade with a chocolate churro while rap music played in the background - it’s like I never left home. A woman came to sit across from me for the sake of sitting down; she was from Holland and today’s her last day in the country. Her husband came with food eventually. She had three weeks here and went to several places (allegedly, she didn’t list them out) and I asked her about Nakano Broadway. She didn’t make it there. It’s a good thing that I did - this is probably the kind of environment and market that people expect of Akihabara now, and maybe that’s how Aki was years ago, but it’s different from this. What’s more interesting is that Mandarake has a larger presence here than in Akihabara (so it seems to me), and their stores had floor after floor of any and every kind of pop culture product that’s been made in the past sixty years at least. Buttress that with extensive watch and jewelry stores and a slender arcade in the basement, and it’s a very well centralized microcosm of the country’s economy on the whole. I actually made a point to have dinner earlier than usual this time and found a place to serve some deep fried pork cuts served with rice and soup on the side. It was enough, and very well made. The day had not ended and my bag was heavy with several books purchased there, so I reported back to base briefly and decided to try visiting somewhere else, and settled on Ueno. Just as I arrived, a festival was underway where local teams of people made an elaborate show of carrying a home made shrine to a temple. Streets were officially blocked by police to allow the procession. In following the line I came up against makeshift food and amusement stands with the traditional toy gun shooting and goldfish catching. It appears that this is an official “start of summer” festival and I was able to watch it all happen in front of me. That was the good part of the day.
Day 7 - Tachikawa / Kunitachi. Shinjuku 2.
One of the games that I've never played is Beatmania III The Final. I've played some BM3 7th Mix years ago, but not The Final. I found a location that has one - World Game Circus in Tachikawa. In looking around that area before the trip, I saw that there was a nearby shinkansen museum, and not much else, so I figured that going to both places would make that walk worthwhile. Turns out that it wasn’t a museum in the proper sense of a dedicated building. Rather, it was a bullet train engine car on the side of a building that was unrelated, and that was it. A cute interaction happened here - when I approached the car, I heard some children running around inside, so I approached cautiously without knowing if I was encroaching upon someone else's alloted time or something. Once the children saw me, they gave a hearty irrashaimase as I entered, and the boy stamped a paper and presented it to me. Perfect. Despite it not being a typical musem, the card did have some interesting content, and it's good to see some kind of commemoration for their achievements and progression in that industry regardless. They have a lot to be proud about there. Off to WGC. Maps wasn’t lying about the walk taking twenty minutes. It's a good thing that I looked it up on streetview beforehand, because I otherwise would have walked right past it without knowing it was there. Then there it was, and there I confronted a past that I couldn’t visit again. Sure, I got to play BM3 The Final at last, but my timing was off, my hands were off, there wasn’t much I could do. Along with that I can say that I’ve played on a Beatmania II cabinet, and that was better than 5th Style at least. But that was it, that was all I could stand to do. It was right there and I couldn’t bear to put up with it more than a few rounds at best. Dream big, because only disappointment follows if your smaller dreams ever are fulfilled. I don’t know why finding IKEA back in Shinjuku was so difficult, but it took a while. I bought a bag, and then I bought a bag because the other bag was at the end of the register, which makes sense. I did feed myself before getting back to the Taito station to play some songs, but it still wasn’t good enough. All thumbs. Ended the day with laundry since the timing worked. Speaking of making dreams big, it’s time to cross another one off the list tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Day 8 - Takasaki, Gunma. Oomiya, Saitama 2.
It’s a good thing that I only needed to get to Ikebukuro to transfer over to the next stop, because that’s where that particular run ended for some reason. I wonder what was up. Speaking of things getting messed up on trains, I managed to find my way on a train that needed a separate ticket, which I didn't have. The conductor found me right away and had me disembark at Uraja for me to wait for the proper transfer. The weather forecast said there’d be rain, and the travel forecast said it would take two hours to get there, and neither lied. I feel like I had more people staring at me in Gunma than other places. I will say that I found the Takasaki station area to be rather charming, with the stores that it had inside and the emphasis on the music culture there. It’s one thing to offer a piano to the public to play, but it’s another to have a public willing to use it. This location had both. Having what was essentially a Bic Camera built into the facility was a nice touch too. The Leisure Land arcade was sandwiched between other floors that had its own offering of gaming stuff, so that was an unexpected bit of a fun thing to look through. The area was clean and sparsely populated, and it wasn’t picked clean of all matter of things that would normally get snapped up, so that was interesting. Finally, I made it over to the machine. They had separate fans for each location. I got the songs and then the medals came, and that’s that. Kantou Seiou. I would have stayed a bit longer but I wanted to have the medals show up right away, and my internet wasn’t cooperating, so that’s all I could do. I think there was an Internet cafe that I could have used in the facility, but I didn’t want to deal with an awkward conversation. I did get some Lawson on the way out, as well as some trinkets from the local Gunma-chan store as well as some mini croissants and some macademia cookie things. More vocal awkwardness. Omiya was one of the stops on the way back, and I found a place to serve omrice, so that’s another one off the list. No shoes allowed inside. The value wasn’t there but the service was good enough, as was the flavor. The machines with the 20G springs are indeed legit. Back home in time for some McDonalds, and that’s another food-checklist item marked off. Takoyaki mayo dipping sauce - somehow it’s both salty and sweet. While returning to the hotel, I did happen to encounter an argument amongst two teenaged locals where the guy ended up half-heartedly kicking the girl and getting her to cry. I wonder what their argument was about. I didn’t play hero, but someone else did so enough to prevent an escalation and called the police over.
Day 9 - Sugamo, Tokyo Sky Tree, Akihabara 3, Kanda
Up early enough to decide that I should at least visit the Sky Tree while I'm there just to say that I did, and that I should visit the Sugamo street market upon its open since it was right there in front of me. I'm glad to have done so. With everything open, this felt more like what one would think to expect from a flea market environment that's operated and supported by the local populace. Small stores were open both sides of the street that go on for many blocks, and some tents and tables were set up to sell second hand goods as well. I was able to find someone selling a US Morgan dollar and he wanted only 2000Y for it, so that was an easy buy. If I would have known better to anticipate this area, I wouldn't have felt compelled to buy kitchy tourist crap that is expected as gifts elsewhere. If you are looking for a place to idly shop around that doesn't get extremely crowded and has an authentic local feel to it, consider making a point to come here. Off to Sky Tree. Getting the combo ticket for the second deck was worth it just for the lack of crowds on the upper area. If you're going to come here, consider getting a phone selfie stick or something of the kind so that you can take pictures against the windows without the structure scaffolding obstructing your view. On the subject of shopping again, this might be another area to consider visiting just for the sake of the specialty stores to be found here, such as those for chopsticks or hairpins. To close out the day, my wife reminded me to look for something from the Square Enix cafe, so that meant swinging by Akihabara yet again. Since it is within a walkway, it was a bit of a pain to find this place even with using maps, but I eventually found it and got what she wanted to find. Played some IIDX at Game Panic, which was surprisingly small and the one machine that was avaialble to play had some 2P turntable issues, so that didn't last all that long. Dinner was at a nearby place that specalized in tofu, so that was a good ramen serving with that infused. For the evening, I wandered south to Kanda to get night pictures, and found it to feel pretty similar to Ueno.
Day 10 - Ginza, Tokyo, Kanda & Akihabara 4
Launrdry in the morning. I also wanted to say that I went to Ginza in my time here, and I didn't research anywhere to go to keep it a surprise. It was a bit warmer and sunnier than usual that day, and I stuck to the main road for most of the walk, so I can't say that I found too many points of the interest along the path that I walked starting from Yurakucho station and heading out that way. High class store for high class people, and that's too rich for my peasant blood. Similarly for Tokyo proper itself, I suppose I'd have to needed to wander far away from the Yamanote vicinity to find points of interest there, as I didn't encounter anything that was remarkably distinctive here in comparison to other areas that I have previously seen. Continuing north across Nihonbashi brought me to Kanda and eventually to Akihabara yet again, as if it was a magnet that pulled me inside every time. For the sake of trying a different place I chose to play some IIDX at the Leisure Land arcade there, and I'm glad to have done that, as those machines were probably in the best coniditon that I encountered within that area. Dinner was at Tenkaippin, which I didn't realize until after I placed the order was cash only. The clerk didn't request it beforehand but I voluntarily left my passport there to show that I would return, and promptly went to the same ATM that I had found days prior in order to get the cash to pay for the bill.
Day 11 - Haneda T3, Nishi Nippori, Nippori, Uguisuidani, Otsuka, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukruo, home.
The end. I resolved to take the subway over to Haneda today to get the one luggage over there and stored, and it’s a good thing that I did - there’s no easy solution for getting over there without encountering a crowd. If anything I wonder if Yamanote is actually better. Regardless, I got that much done. With the day left to go, I ventured to Nishi Nippori and I needed to summon the map several times to make sure I found the location, as it was as obscure as it could get. Just a sign on the ground for the third floor, a stairway that led to the back, an elevator that had no decoration, a single room that housed everything. Arcade PCB kits on shelves, joystick panels in exposed boxes, nicotine odor from years past - it was like I was transported to 1995 upon entry, beyond the fact that the games weren’t as old. Most of them, they did have a lot going for SF3 3rd yet. I was able to take care of some game business in a hurry since I was the only one there. It was a very pleasant respite for play in comparison to most of the other sessions. The region itself felt much the same as this arcade - old and well worn, as in well lived. Venturing south to Nippori led me to stumble upon a shrine and cemetery just by following some stairs. Usuigudani was cleaner but mostly had hotels as points of interest. Back home to buy some mochi while mochi was for sale in midday. Then to Otsuka, thinking that I would wander to Ikebukuro, but I ended up wandering back to Sugamo instead. Whoops. Meal at Sugamo, then back out to return to Shibuya and Shinjuku at night to catch evening shots, when I hadn’t done so before at these places. Good thing I did that to get Golden Gai area shots at night. With the night winding down, I decided to have one last IIDX play at Round 1 in Ikebukuro to symbolically end where I started.
Ending arcade comments
· Although the upkeep is generally better and more consistent than the US, some machines will have hardware issues here too. I was surprised by the blurriness with some of the LM IIDX machines.
· Densha De Go on the propert large cabinet is nice but quickly becomes very expensive.
· Bombergirl is OK enough and having the dedicated detonator button that pops up for hitting the base is a cute touch.
· Chase Chase Jokers feels rather clunky and I'm not sure what the game is trying to do. Interesting side screen concept at least.
· Nostalgia is delightful and would probably find a small fanbase worldwide if it had more exposure.
· Favorite IIDX locations are Taito Station in Oomiya for the light keys and Leisure Land Akihabara for the high quality of the LMs there. Honorable mention goes to the Game Versus loctation in Nishi Nihonbashi, but that might not be worth it for a dedicated trip unless you go there first thing in the morning.
Ending overall comments
This was a life altering trip for me, as would be expected. While I'm glad to have made the journey, as to be expected, I will only want to return after making an extensive redoubled effort into speaking and hearing comprehension, because I know that I came across like a blubbering idiot so many times, and it's truly aggravating because I generally know what I want to say and most of the words that are used to say it, but it just doesn't come out of my mouth properly when it needs to be done.
I welcome any questions you may have, as that will help for me to recall the memories and have me write them down.

Being a natural skeptic, this is a story I never thought I’d be telling. I grew up reading those short, half-edited horror stories that were so popular on the internet, scaring myself out of sleep too many times to count as a kid. These days, I’m still too scared to fall asleep, just like I was when I was 11 reading stories on boards I had no business browsing. This time, though, it isn’t typed words on my aging laptop that have my heart unable to beat calmly in my chest. It isn’t the long traded campfire story that has the hairs on my neck standing in unease.
It’s the envelope sitting on my desk, taunting me as I glance at it from across the room. The top torn open haphazardly, its contents situated neatly against the worn wood grain.
It’s the words that are typed so neatly along the page, bringing back every foul memory I can conjure.
“Thank you for donating.
Come back and see us again soon,
Mr. Weller.”
~
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden hue over the endless river of asphalt stretching out before me. This highway, flanked by gnarled mesquite trees and sporadic billboards advertising the next southern baptist church, had become somewhat of a familiar friend over the years. It was the unofficial gateway between my life at college and my small hometown nestled on the border of Texas and Louisiana.
I adjusted my review mirror, catching a glimpse of my own tired reflection. Summer break was finally here and I had high-tailed it from the campus as soon as my last final exam hit my professor’s desk. Gone was the grueling cycle of exams, papers, and endless nights spent hunched over textbooks. Whoever said that the college years were the best of their life needed to find the nearest sharp object to take a seat on.
As I drove, the familiar scenery slipping by in a soothing blur, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The screen flashed “Mom”, causing the involuntary roll of my eyes.
“Hey, Mom, I’m on the road. What’s up,” I spoke into the phone, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
”Hi, sweetheart! How close are you to home?” Her voice was warm and overly sweet, exactly the tone she used when she was about to ask for an inconvenient favor.
“Probably a few hours out. Why?”
“Perfect! Listen, can you do me a favor and pick up a case of beer for your dad? He invited his friends over tonight and I don’t have time to run to the store with all the cooking-,” she explained quickly, probably sensing my sigh of annoyance before I could even take a breath.
”Mom,” I interrupted evenly, “you do realize there are, like, zero places to stop for miles, right? The last couple hours are practically deserted.”
“I know, but most gas stations always have the kind your dad likes. Just stop at the next one you see, okay?”
I groaned internally, glancing at my half full gas gauge. I had filled up the tank this morning specifically so I wouldn’t have to stop once on the drive.
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
”You’re the best,” Mom sighed in relief, her tone calm again. “Drive safe, honey.”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to the rhythmic drone of the road and my dusty second hand CD’s once again.
I kept my eyes peeled for the next gas station, hoping to get the beer run out of the way sooner rather than later. About 20 minutes after Mom’s call, a rundown gas station came into view, its neon sky flickering erratically against the dusky sky. Like most gas stations in the middle-of-nowhere-south, it looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since at least the 70’s.
Pulling in, I parked next to a rusted out pickup and stepped out, the heat and humidity immediately oppressive. The place reeked of old oil and dust, the air thick with the smell of mildew. I made my way inside, the crude “bell” over the door made of old fishing lures and soda caps jingling half-heartedly as I entered.
If I thought the outside of the joint was sad, the inside was plain pathetic. Dimly lit and cluttered with off brand snacks and outdated magazines, I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been stocked since at least the 70’s. I quickly located the cooler, grabbing a case of Keystone Light and headed to the counter. I tried not to breathe the air in too deeply, a little afraid of whatever strange diseases probably lingered.
The attendant behind the counter was a greasy, wiry man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. He glanced up from his equally disheveled book, watching me approach with an intensity that made me uneasy. Placing the beer on the counter, I fished out my license, hoping to make this transaction as quick as possible. He eyed me while I pulled my wallet out, his voice reeking of prolonged cigarette and cheap whiskey.
“Headed to Texas?” he gruffed.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece together how he knew. I was still at least an hour and a half from the border. “Yeah, lucky guess.” I chuckled uneasily.
”Not lucky at all,” he drawled out, “Saw yer license plate.”
I turned towards the glass door, seeing the direct line to my car.
“Ah,” I responded, not quite sure what else to add as I put down my drivers license next to the case of beer.
Is this how social interactions at gas stations are supposed to go?
The greasy man picked up my license, his gaze lingering on it a bit too long as he rang the beer up without glancing at the register.
“You’re an organ donor,” he remarked, casual, as if it were something he asked every day.
Nope. Definitely not a normal interaction.
”Uh, yeah. Just in case, I guess.”
He handed back the license and I fought the urge to wipe whatever strange grime he accumulated on his hands off my card.
“Makes you a good person,” he nodded, offering me a rotted grin.
I forced a smile, increasingly eager to get the hell out of this place. “How much?”
”Fifteen seventy three.” He replied, his accent catching over the vowels.
I handed over two wrinkled 10s, wondering if I should tell him to keep the change so I wouldn’t have to handle anything else he touched. Before I could decide, the man spoke again, peering back at the door.
”Yer headed the wrong way if yer trynna get to Texas. Should take the next left up ahead.”
I frowned, unable to keep up my polite mask much longer. “The road’s straight the whole way,” I argued, “I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
The grimy mess of a man simply smiled, a thin, almost predatory smile.
“Only bein polite. Suit yerself”
I took my change and beer, muttering a quick thanks before bolting it out of there. The encounter left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes on my back as I walked to my car.
Last time I do a favor for mom, I thought dramatically.
Once inside the safety of my car, I locked the doors and started the engine, eager to put distance between myself and that disgusting gas station. The man’s words and shit-eating grin echoed in my mind, but I dismissed them. The road home was straight, I knew that much for certain.
As the miles ticked by, I found myself turning the music up louder and louder, trying to shake off the unease from the encounter. I tried focusing on the familiar landmarks and the lyrics of the songs I’d heard a thousand times. Thankfully, it only took a few songs for it to work.
The sun began to dip lower into the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the road. I figured I was about an hour from home at this point, my mind itching to be home.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to see that something was seemingly… wrong.
When I glanced to the side, expecting fields of unkempt brush and patches of cactus, instead I saw short, twisted trees. My eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the misplaced flora. I let off the gas slightly, slowing down the car to take in the patches of damp, soggy earth peppering the fields. I looked behind me, my brain desperate to rationalize the sudden change of environment. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
This wasn’t right. I had driven this route countless times and the scenery had never changed so drastically. How in the world had I driven myself into a bog?
The road, usually straightforward and predictable, now seemed to wind and twist as my car crept along it, each bend revealing more of the eerie, waterlogged terrain. Doubts crept in, swift and harsh. Had I missed a turn? Was that psycho right after all?
The feeling of unease grew stronger with each passing mile. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense foliage and the occasional decrepit and rotted building. I glanced at my phone, picking it up in hopes of checking my GPS, but my heart sank when I saw the “no service” icon in the corner.
Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I needed to find a way back to the main road, or at least to a road sign.
Just as the sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me, I spotted a building up ahead, its bright lights cutting through the encroaching darkness of dusk. Relief flooded through me. Whatever this place is, surely someone in there can tell me where I got turned around.
However, the sight before me only had my eyebrows furrowing deeper. A clean, well-lit, white building stood amidst the desolate landscape, almost cartoonishly out of place. It looked brand new, too pristine for its surroundings. Like a beacon of hope in a sea of… muck.
Desperation overrode my hesitancy of such a place, fueling my decision to pull over. I parked my car in the well-paved lot, comforted by the other vehicles sitting under the bright lights.
I made my way to the entrance, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as I approached. The stark white walls and sterile smell hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the humid smell of wood rot outside.
Is this some sort of clinic?
I paused as I looked around, my eyes landing on a front desk. A cheery looking woman with a bright smile sat behind it, her eyes already on me.
”Good evening! Are you here to donate?” she called out, her voice light and airy.
I turned back to the door for a moment, my instincts not quite thrilled being in such a strange place, but the idea of trying to get myself un- lost in the dark pushed me further towards the front desk.
”Uh, no. I’m actually lost,” I responded, giving the woman a weak smile. “I’m trying to get to Texas and I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
”Of course, sugar. But why don’t you take a seat first?”
I glanced around to what I now assumed was a waiting room. The occupants were an odd assortment of characters, each making me more uneasy than the last. An elderly man in disheveled clothes sat closest, muttering to himself while looking straight through me.
A few seats down sat a young woman with stringy hair, as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Her eyes looked red and puffy and I could only assume she either was terribly allergic to bogs, or she had been crying for a while.
Next, a man with a little girl sitting beside him caught my attention. The girl clutched a small stuffed bunny, her eyes regarding me curiously. She seemed to be the only person aware of my existence and I threw a small smile her way. Her eyes shifted immediately, darting nervously back to the man beside her. The man had no reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead with a vacant expression.
Lastly, a businessman sat in the corner, his wrinkled suit and messy hair contradicting his aloof demeanor. He held a phone to his ear, checking his watch intermittently. The whole scene of the room reeked of impatience and unease, making my skin crawl.
What the hell is this place?
I turned back to the front desk, forcing a smile. “Listen, ma’am. I’m really just looking for directions. I don’t need an appointment.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “Mr. Weller can see you for a donation. It won’t take long.”
“I really don’t have time for that. I just need to get back on the road,” I insisted, the edge of desperation beginning to creep into my voice.
She ignored my plea, typing something into the computer. “Mr. Weller will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat.”
Frustration boiled over. I was about to argue further when I noticed the other patients had started to stare, their gazes heavy and expectant. The atmosphere in the room shifted to feel charged, almost oppressive.
Deciding I had seen quite enough, I muttered quickly. ”Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the exit.
The nurse’s cheerful farewell followed me out, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones.
I hurried back to my car, the clinic’s lights painting long shadows across the parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I locked the doors and took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The “clinic” had rattled me more than I cared to admit.
As I started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the clinic quickly disappeared from view, swallowed by the hungry night. My mind raced, grappling with the bizarre turn of events. The woman at the front desk’s insistence, the strange people in the waiting room, and the clinic itself…
none of it made sense.
Determined to put this fever dream behind me and find my way home, I refocused on the road ahead, hoping that with a bit of luck, I could retrace my steps and escape this unsettling detour. The landscape grew darker, the swamp closing in around me, but I pressed on, clinging to the desperate hope that familiar sights were just around the next bend.
The feeling of unease clung to me like an unwanted second skin as I drove further on, minutes passing with no change. Eventually, at least an hour passed, the monotony of the road broken only by the occasional curve and the distant croaking of frogs. I had long since shut off my radio, seeing as no amount of Lynyrd Skynyrd could make the situation better.
My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any road signs or landmarks.
Yet as time wore on, familiar trees passing by, an alarming realization began to settle in.
Despite making no turns. Despite the road seemingly taking me far away,
I was back where I started.
Bright lights pierced the gloom ahead, the parking lot coming into view mocking my attempt to leave. My heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over me the closer I got.
I was back at the clinic.

am a teenager and sometimes when i go out i smoke cigarettes and most of the times i dont have any perfume on me or something to get the smell of my fingers and my parents are suspicious of me smoking so if theres and myths i can use to get the smell of my hand instantly thats isnt rubbing my hand in tree leaves write it if you please

Hi, I know some of you have been interested in Joost’s written stuff, so this is one of them. It’s a short story that Joost wrote for Boekenweek voor Jongeren (Book Week for Young People) in 2019. There’s more info about it here (in Dutch) https://www.vice.com/nl/article/qvgzpv/joost-klein-schreef-een-kort-verhaal-over-een-wilde-nacht-in-berlijn and there was also this promo video for it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wx7wxnpxps0. It's been translated from Dutch - maybe not the most perfect translation but it's readable. Original in Dutch here. Enjoy

"How come he suddenly has cash?" I looked at Gurb, but he avoided my gaze. Louis never had money and yet he was buying another round. Meanwhile, a Moby song was playing and nothing made sense. "If he has money for drinks, he can surely pay me back, right?"
Just a few hours ago, I was alone in Berlin. Now, ten hours later, I'm standing in some obscure techno club with my best friends. Loud rock music with drunken shouting. "Hey, Miss Murder, can I make beauty stay if I take my life?" I woke up that day with a mild hangover from the lonely yet people-filled night before. Perfect conditions for a 20-year-old dropout.
The Hard Rock Café was the most beautifully ugly place in Berlin. Gurb had driven for seven hours straight in his mother's car, but we didn't notice. An iconic black Mini Cooper. Your body leads your mind, the beat never stops, and you can conquer the world. Louis threw in another crazy dance move. We were happy.
"Do you want another drink, brother?" Gurb asked me, half shouting. An evening filled with rhetorical questions. He saw me dancing and already knew the answer.
Gurb always had money. Louis, on the other hand, never did. Louis was also the youngest of us three. He had just turned 18. I wouldn't call him a cunning fox. More like a jack-of-all-trades. Like the time he made a lot of money on a Wadden Island with a group of boys. They sold large blocks of hash.
"Crazy dude!" I shouted at him. He yelled something back.
"Do you remember back then?" Louis said.
"Back then? Back then? Yeah man, of course!" I had no idea what he meant. "Do you mean the party?"
"Do you mean the party, he says! This guy. When I look at you like this, it makes me happy. The exact same kid is here letting loose just like back in high school!"
We knew each other from secondary school. He joined when I was in the second grade. He was very intelligent. Too young, too much knowledge of the world. His mother is from Brazil. We often went to his mother's place to play on the Playstation Louis and I had bought together.
I lived everywhere at that time. In the crisis shelter where I stayed for a while, for example, I wasn't allowed to have a Playstation. So we set it up in an accessible place, near school. It was always fun with Louis. Going together to the Apple Store. Taking all kinds of photos with all the webcams, posting them on Hyves, and then leaving. Louis always knew how to cheer me up.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!" There was Gurb with five drinks in his hands. Gurb was wearing a blue checkered shirt. Two buttons undone. Hair slicked back. "You look good, brother!"
"You look fresh too! We all look fresh!" Gurb said enthusiastically. Louis was wearing a completely white outfit. We quickly bought this before going out. He also bleached his hair.
"You look like the Brazilian cousin of James Dean in these clothes," I said. Louis laughed. "Let me take a picture."
Suddenly, the DJ switched to some kind of techno. "Ah, here Berlin briefly takes off its mask." I was fine with it all. Louis was talking to a lady.
Voluptuous breasts, I thought to myself. He gave her one of his two drinks.
"He's with a girl and he's thinking with his dick," I said to Gurb. "Let him be, tonight Berlin is ours!"
The bass kept pounding. "I simply don't have the patience for the club," I said to Gurb. He looked surprised. Like a sweet dog, tilting his head. "I'm just waiting for tomorrow. Can't do my thing here. Don't have patience for the already known. I want adventure and I want it now!"
Gurb started laughing. "Patience is a virtue." Yes. Patience is all well and good, but I think it's a waste of my time. Gurb grabbed my shoulder.
"I think it's time for another beer."
Louis and I were walking through Leeuwarden a year ago when suddenly a red Ford Ka stopped in front of us. It was Gurb, casually driving around the city. He invited us into his car. We hopped in. Since that afternoon, the three of us were together. A few months later, Louis got a tattoo on his ribs in honor of our friendship. It was the name of our group chat. Braddar Force Indigo.
There were also days when Gurb would take me for a drive around Friesland. He reminded me how beautiful Friesland is. The world doesn't spin there. The newspapers I threw away in the Stiens forest in 2011 could still be lying in the same spot, so to speak.
Just before midnight, I found myself in line for the restroom. My eyes fell on a pair of striking shoes. Cigarette smoke invaded my nose for the fourth time. "Müssen Sie eine Zigarette haben?" a female voice spoke to me. I felt like Tom Hanks in the final scene of Angels & Demons, where the new pope first steps onto the balcony. The curtains opened. There I was, witnessing an important moment in history. I was just told how I was sent by God, but my ears didn't want to hear any of it. At least that's how I felt. My mouth was empty. I had no words left. That's when I knew for sure. Berlin might really be as crazy as literally everyone says.
Dark blond, silky hair. Was this real beauty then? She wouldn't look 40, but I think she was. A true woman. Beautiful in all her elegance. I always joked about being interested in older women, but tonight one stood in front of me. "I don't smoke," I said to her.
Someone tapped me. "Please, just go to the toilet!" He was right. I hadn't peed in a while either. My urine was cloudy. "Glomerulonephritis," I said to myself on the toilet. This is an unusual condition. It's an inflammation in the kidneys, I thought I remembered. They should never have given me access to Google.
The evening progressed, and Louis kept buying rounds. "But seriously now. How does Louis suddenly have all that money for drinks?" I asked Gurb. He was outside smoking with a group of Swiss girls. I had strategically positioned myself so that I could always leave the crime scene if necessary.
"You shouldn't ask me," said Gurb. He was laughing with the temporary girlfriend group of Louis. Gurb has a beard. A lot of chicks like that. I get it too.
As much as I enjoyed Louis and Gurb being here for me, something didn't sit right with me. It couldn't just be about the money. "What's up with him?" I heard one of the Swiss girls say to Gurb.
Those kinds of questions really tire me out. "Not much, with you?" I replied.
They all started laughing. "That's not what she meant, brother," said Gurb.
"I couldn't care less whether she meant it or not. Send that brace-face back to Switzerland. Don't drive me crazy, alright!"
Actually, I hadn't drunk that much that evening. "Two vodka Sprites, please!" It's rare for me to get just one drink. "I always get two drinks, then you have to wait shorter for the third one!" Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I wanted to admit. Oh well, it was still the three of us against the world.
"Nice shoes, are those Prada?" I asked a random girl at the bar.
"No, these are fake. Why would I buy real ones for 600 dollars if I could just buy these for 20?"
"..."
I'm not very good at that. Talking. To women.
Louis and Gurb were in the smoking area now. It was less blue than the dance floor itself. My clothes already stank, so a visit to the smoking area couldn't hurt. "These people are so underground!" Gurb shouted. Louis was filming him with his phone. "These people..." There was a brief pause. As if Gurb forgot the only line he had. "...so underground!" All three of us burst into laughter. The alcohol flowed through our veins as if it came from the purest mountains. People seemed doubled and the room was full. We had been in the same club in Berlin for several hours.
"Leonardo! What are you hiding from the big boss?" I sometimes called Louis ‘DiCaprio.’ "You a rich guy, now?" I said, with an accent as if I were from the Bronx.
Louis started laughing. "Eh, you know nothing. Bullshit talk."
I had to laugh too. What was I even worried about? Friends are friends, with or without money. That shouldn't matter. Louis probably just worked for that money. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe he just had enough to buy rounds. But what if my gut feeling was right? That feeling was never wrong. Except for that one time at the Holland Casino in Groningen. Even the best of us have slip-ups. I was just getting worked up again. When it comes down to it, Louis is one of the sweetest guys I know. I had to let it go. After all, it's still Louis.
"I think I'm going to have sex soon, man," Louis said.
"With who?" I asked immediately.
"That one girl."
"Which one?"
"The one with the boobs."
"Oh, her. Just be careful."
"What kind of reaction is that?" Louis asked indignantly.
I'd only had four drinks, but I was acting like a mess. Louis was right. I didn't understand myself. Where was my head at? I'm here in Berlin, supposed to be having the time of my life, but here I am feeling lonely and sad again. Joost once again couldn't control his emotions.
"Sorry," I suddenly said to Louis. "Sorry for my behavior. Been acting dumb towards you all night. It's unnecessary." Sometimes I have that. Mood swings. "Know that crime is never the solution. We've talked about this so many times. Yes, it's tempting and sometimes easy money. I sometimes find it amusing too, but it's always hypothetical. Ask me for help. I can help you, even with illegal things. I'll always have your back." The dancing was kind of over.
The words I had just placed on Louis's plate came from my heart. My Frisian, irregular boys' heart.
Crying in the club. I had never seen myself like that. Crying, yes. In the club, no. I never understood the taboo around crying. Or emotions in general. I saw myself in the mirror. They weren't tears of joy. They weren't tears of sadness either. It was me letting everything go. All the emotions I had ever felt. The emotions I felt between my brother and sister and myself because they wanted to take on a parental role over me, but I was in puberty, so I pushed them away. The emotions I felt when my old neighbors were supposed to take care of my dog, but didn't tell me that he was bitten by one of their dogs. They didn't have money for the surgery, they later told me. They were ashamed of their lack of money. My dog died from this injury. Even the emotions that were all jumping at once during the retake for my swimming diploma A, I let go of.
No emotions. Just for a moment, not feeling anything. Is that too much to ask for?
"You still don’t smoke?"
It had to be the voice of the woman with the cigarettes. I looked over my shoulder through the mirror. It was her. The one with dark blond, silky hair.
"Not to be rude, but this is the men’s room," I said. She took a step closer and kissed me on my lips. It tasted like more. We started kissing. It had been a while since I had had female contact at this level. It probably didn't look good and it didn't feel good either. She started kissing my neck. Slowly, I noticed the pressure in the erectile tissues of my penis starting to increase. "I really don't have time for this!" I thought to myself. The woman with the cigarettes started to slowly sink down until she was on her knees. I didn't want this. Not now, not like this. She unraveled my penis from my Polo Ralph Lauren underwear. Her tongue was blue. It was probably from cheap shots of alcohol.
Was this real beauty then? Was this the beginning or the end of her story? And had I become the boy my parents hoped I would be? I thought about the fact that this was once someone's little daughter. Somewhere in the world, an old man might be wondering what his daughter is doing. Am I really putting pleasure above my own morals and values?
With my semi-erect circumcised penis still exposed, I lifted her up. After giving her a kiss on her forehead, I pulled up my pants and left the toilets.
It was the usual last hour in any club ever. I met Louis and Gurb at the bar. "Should we have another drink?" I asked Gurb. "I feel like having a cocktail. Something sweet. Lots of sugar. What about you?"
Gurb looked at the menu. "A cognac would go down well right now."
"A cognac? You're only nineteen!" Gurb and Louis laughed. "Two Tequila Sunrises please!" I called to the bartender. "Also, two beers! Thanks!" I also got a beer for Louis. At first, I didn't want to, but I didn't want to spoil the mood either. Besides, I didn't want to show too much that it bothered me so much.
We danced away the last minutes. The club closed, and we decided to walk with the group of Swiss girls. Apparently, they were staying nearby.
As I lagged behind the group, one of them tried to start a conversation with me. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly.
"I'm fine. Just had too much beer. Makes me sleepy." Not true at all, but I've heard people say that.
"You’re tired? The fun has only just began!" And as she said this, she pulled something out of her inner pocket. Her clenched fist, shielded by a half jacket. Who is this girl, anyway? I thought to myself. She opened her hand flat, and right in the center of her palm lay two small pills with a smiley face on them. At least, they looked like it.
"Oh, I don’t do drugs. Sorry."
"Me neither!" And she swallowed a pill. "Now it’s your turn... Or are you scared?"
Scared? Who did this crazy Swiss witch (with really beautiful eyes) think she was. With her "are you scared". I'll show her who's scared.
"Scared? I’m not scared." I picked up the remaining pill and swallowed it.
Everything went in slow motion. Was this who I had become? Was this the same boy from high school? And just before I could swallow, I spat out the pill. She was shocked. I picked up the pill again, dried it with my jacket, and put it back in her fist. "Maybe later!" I shouted, running back to the group, over my shoulder.
I have nothing to say to 9 out of 10 peers I come across. Of course, I can be social. I can also have fun with random people in random situations, but that night, it just tired me out. I also didn't understand what we were doing there. Those girls found me strange anyway. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel.
"We know this place where they go until 7 in the morning!" The girl leader of the group spoke. I wanted to go home. "If you guys want, you can go. Don't worry about me," I said to Gurb and Louis. The boys had a brief discussion. We agreed to stay for just a little while longer for some drinks. I consented. I was thirsty. "I'll have a Fanta, Louis."
Gurb had reached the last cigarette in his pack. Louis and a girl from the group were nowhere to be found. It didn't even bother me. This guy just walks around with some cash in his pocket and all hell breaks loose. After a night full of stimuli, I understood Louis. Of course, I understood Louis. He's a young god. Handsome, smart guy. But that didn't make me any less angry. It was purely about trust for me. Something inside me said I should stop subconsciously expecting things from people too. It prevents disappointment.
"Hotel please!" I jokingly suggested to Gurb. "Should you call Louis or should I?" I added. Gurb immediately grabbed his Android smartphone and called Louis. He put the call on speaker.
"Are you ready?" Gurb asked.
"Yeah. Sort of."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't have sex."
"That's fine, right? Tomorrow's a new day!"
"I think I'm in love, man," Louis said.
"...," Gurb said, chuckling as he let out a sigh.
Once we arrived at the girls' hostel, it was already getting light. Louis was thankfully back. There were stains on his pants, around his knees. My focus was solely on arranging a taxi. Although the boys were still flirting, I was really done now. "How are we going to pay for this taxi?" I said a bit too loudly.
There was a silence. "Don't worry. I still have cash," Gurb said.
"Yeah, I knew you would," I replied.
My words clearly hit Louis. "What do you mean by that?" he said.
It was as if time stood still for a few seconds. "Exactly what I said. Better listen." Louis pulled out a small wad of green bills from his pocket. At least 400 euros. "I don't even want to see that money," I reacted. I walked away.
I'll just order a taxi myself.
"Why are you walking away now?" Gurb said.
"Twelve hours ago, I was alone too, and I had a lot more fun then."
"Do you really want to know how I got this money?" Louis said.
Yes, I did want to know. My whole evening revolved around that damn money.
He took a second of pause before he began speaking. "The answer lies in the Mini."
What on earth could be in Gurb's mother's car? Louis was trying to get into my head. "Taxi!"
Once in the taxi, the division was clear. Gurb was upfront, chatting animatedly with the driver. All adventures ever were recounted. Louis and I in the back. One of my best friends since I was thirteen. Funny how things turn out. It was quiet between us. I was in my head, rehearsing how I would bring up the money again. It didn't add up, and he knew it himself. "I don't care, you know," I said, hoping he'd break.
"What don't you care about?"
"About that money."
"What money? You're really a crazy woozy man." Louis burst out laughing again.
On the other hand, it was silent. Gurb had started talking about the driver's family. The driver didn't appreciate it. Gurb meant well. The driver smelled of alcohol. Or was it me? His nails were polished. Maybe his wife was a specialist. I bite my nails myself. Like now.
"In the Mini, oh yeah."
"Shut up. Illegal man."
"You'll never know."
"Stop playing. Just say it!"
Louis grabbed my head, pulled himself towards me, and brought his mouth to my right ear. "Why so serious?" he whispered. He didn't want to tell me.
"But always with this damn money, huh?" I almost shouted at Louis. I broke every silence within a radius of 10 kilometers.
"I'm trying my best, bro. It is what it is. I can't make it any different," he replied. It was clearly bothering him deeply. He ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes people have to do things. And you know that better than anyone. Sometimes they have to do things they don't really want to or aren't supposed to do."
I knew this spiel all too well. Through all the drunken haziness, I suddenly saw a small glimmer of light. A tiny spark of sincerity. Louis was serious this time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to involve you in this. I'm sorry," sweat dripped from his forehead.
"You're serious, huh? Damn, man. What mess have you gotten yourself into now? Worse than Terschelling?" Worse than Terschelling would mean stolen goods. Maybe even violence.
"It's not what you think."
"The Adlon Hotel, right?" the driver chimed in. Always saved by the bell, that Louis.
Suddenly I hit my head against the seat in front of me. Of course, I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. The last thing I saw was Gurb waking up in panic from his drunken stupor. One by one, I started losing my senses. It started with the feeling in my fingers. For a brief moment, everything wasn't quite black, and I could only see a vague pattern of colors repeating inside my eyelids. You could compare it to the brief moment after the commercial break before the movie starts in the cinema. The movie was about to begin.
I knew I wasn't dying. At least not yet. Not like this. Not after an overall mediocre night out in Berlin. I found comfort in the image I forced myself to see. It was all in my head. There I was, unconscious.
I saw myself in a third-person point of view. It wasn't like I was actually leaving my body. More like there was a webcam hanging in one of the upper corners of the taxi.
As a child, I used to dream a lot about death. Nights spent awake.
At some point, I developed a kind of compulsive behavior. I kept swaying my torso from left to right with my hands under my head. It became almost like a workout before bedtime. Every night.
I called it dream shuffling. Just like I had learned to shuffle puzzle pieces or playing cards. Making things a little exciting for yourself. But what I almost never told anyone was that I was scared. I was afraid of burglars, who were very agile and muscular.
Especially afraid that they would murder me. I really wanted to know what death was like. It scared me.
These fear visions originated during an all-inclusive vacation in Turkey. I was 6 years old and already in bed. There was a big old TV in our hotel room, so I could secretly watch TV from bed. Every evening, my parents sat on the balcony. Here they discussed their day while enjoying a glass of alcohol. There was a Japanese animated series on TV. In the few seconds that I watched, I saw a scary creature climbing a sort of apartment complex via the balconies. The creature had hundreds of teeth and blond hair. It quickly entered to decapitate the people, then drained them and, as a final insult, robbed them. Dozens of carcasses of dead people were scattered around the apartment complex. The complex on TV resembled the resort where we were in reality, and the TV world merged with my surroundings. I became part of it. I saw people watching. No matter how loudly I screamed for help, they didn't react. The sun became very bright, and the people turned into nothing more than shadows. As the intensity of the sun increased, something became clear to me. These were not people. They had a sort of orange skin. Where I had previously thought it was their nose and mouth, it turned out that these shadowy figures did not have such physical features. They simply had three holes in their heads. The police tried to do something, but in vain. Since then, we always kept the light on in the hallway outside my bedroom. By rocking back and forth, from left to right, I could glance fleetingly at the beam of light under the door. That bit of light, escaping from the hallway into my room, gave me an advantage. It allowed me to stay one step ahead of the burglars. Pretty smart, right?
"From Jamaica to the world!
It’s just love. Why must the children play in the street?"
It was Bob Sinclar with "Love Generation" speaking to us through the taxi's speakers. We were stationary. I was conscious again, but I didn't feel alive at all. "How long was I out?" I asked Louis.
I could tell by his expression that he was relieved. Relieved that I was back. "One minute," he almost apologized. Louis gave me a pat on the shoulder. Gurb, on the other hand, was sleeping. He slept like a baby cub.
I put my right index finger on my forehead. It felt wet, but it wasn't blood. Blood feels different. Meanwhile, I kept hearing whistling.
"Be the love generation! Oh yeah!" It was still that same song by Bob Sinclar.
The earlier scent of alcohol had now been replaced by the smell of incense. It smelled like the same incense I had in my room. Sold to me as Tibetan 39 incense. I had bought it at a coffee shop in Rotterdam. I pulled up my notes on my phone. "Who lights incense in a CAR????" I let Louis read from my screen. He took the phone from my hands and started typing as well.
"Look at Gurb >>>" Gurb was so deeply asleep that his head drooped. His seatbelt held his torso in place, but his head ended up on the driver's shoulder. The man didn't mind. He didn't move. I made eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and soon I found him. He winked at me.
We arrived at the hotel. Gurb awakened from his alcoholic hibernation. "Who's going to pay for the taxi?" I asked. Clearly rhetorical. I already knew I would take this one for the team, as usual. I refused to use Louis's money. It was uncomfortably quiet. "By card please," I said.
"I'll always protect you, Louis. You really need to know that. I care about you like my own little brother. I'll always try to help you. But you have to be honest with me. Can you do that?" Louis didn't hesitate.
"Yes. Yes, I can. I'll show you. It's really in the Mini." Meanwhile, the taxi driver's card machine indicated that I had insufficient funds. That couldn't be right. Maybe I had withdrawn too much that evening.
"I have cash in the hotel room," Gurb said to me. Gurb informed the driver in broken English that he would go get his cash. The driver agreed. Money is money, whether it comes now or later. As long as it feels good in your hands.
Louis and I got out of the taxi. "You're not going to light a cigarette now, are you?" Louis wanted to smoke. "Especially for stress. That's really for people who can't handle pain. You need to feel pain. Pain needs to brand you for the rest of your life so you finally learn not to do such stupid things." It fell silent again. My blood boiled. All pots were on the stove. I felt like Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen. "Show me then. Do it."
Louis remained silent and walked around the corner of the hotel. Towards the parking lot. I followed him. "You're not going to find much," said Louis.
"Why not? Are you a magician?"
"No. Just. Not much."
"So there's suddenly magically nothing in Gurb's car?"
"Stop. Get out. Get out of my head!" Louis shouted. Louis had had enough. He was done with the parade. Normally we dealt with hypothetical stories. Only this time it wasn't a joke. I was sure now. Louis had dropped his mask. The revolution had begun. The government had fallen and the dikes had broken. The people were in charge. "You shouldn't freak out like this. Always wanting more. Sweet boy, think about yourself."
After Gurb gave the money to the driver, he came to us. He had a smile on his face, lit a cigarette, and exclaimed, "Brothers!" Once with us, he hugged me. He started laughing. "Maybe I haven't been entirely honest either." Sometimes Gurb seemed like a 38-year-old man. In a positive way. He exuded confidence in a way I didn't often see. Affectionate, with a hint of authority.
We stood in the middle of a large parking lot. "Look. We've reached a point where I might not even care anymore. You guys are teasing me." It did matter to me. Maybe more than ever. I was supposed to be two steps ahead of them, but I couldn't figure it out. "I give up."
The delightful silence returned. Louis and Gurb looked at each other. "You guys win. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted as a friend."
From Louis's expression, I could tell he disagreed with this. "Not true. Come to the car."
We arrived at the car. Louis unlocked it and searched for the trunk button. Gurb had started his third cigarette. "It's a corpse, isn't it? Say it now. I can still help you. I can still help us. I can book a ticket for you. We can get you out of here," I said to Louis.
"Just wait. Nutcase."
"Why won't you accept my help?"
Louis started laughing nervously. Or at least it seemed that way. Perhaps a sly laugh too. Had Louis killed someone? "It's not a corpse. That can't be. You wouldn't be stupid enough to use their ID. You're smarter than that. So it must be something stolen. Haven't you found that button yet?"
Suddenly, we heard a click. Louis had found the button. Somewhere, I didn't want to know. Shouldn't I just trust Louis? Wasn't that the whole point of friendship?
Finally, the moment had arrived. I placed my right hand in the slot of the rear hatch. Something in me doubted. Still. I still doubted. Louis looked dead serious. "You wanted to know, didn't you? Then you also have to be man enough to accept it." Louis was clearly not joking. Or was he acting again? "Pussy," Louis said. I looked away. "You're afraid of what's inside, huh? You're afraid of the real Louis." He began to laugh manically. "Open that thing, man. Nutcase!"
I started laughing too. Why did I make such a big deal out of it? Sweat broke out from every pore in my body. It was even a bit damp in the no man's land between my scrotum and my anus. A tropical climate. It had been quite an adventure the whole evening. I took my hand off the rear hatch and first gave Louis a hug. Not some half-hearted birthday wish. No, a real hug.
"It's okay, buddy," Louis said to me. I had no idea what he meant by that. It fit the moment though.
It was really time now. I opened the rear hatch.
"Where is it?"
"In front of you," said Louis.
"In some secret compartment?"
There was nothing in the trunk. Absolutely nothing. An empty trunk. For an empty evening, in an empty Berlin, with an empty group of guys. I didn't get it.
"You won, man," I whispered. "You finally fucking done did it."
I couldn't believe my eyes. Empty? There was still nothing in the car. Louis just stood there. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I had felt every emotion this evening. Seen every color and smelled every scent. I was done. My body was ready. No longer needed. My mission was complete.
"But why did you do this?" I asked Louis, laughing.
He scratched his chin. It felt like the end of a bad movie.
"I sold our Playstation. Wanted to tell you only after I had sorted everything out again. I terminated my lease. Had some debts, and I also wanted to have some money for once. Once not empty-handed in the club. Once not dependent on my best friends. This is not who I am... I know how much that Playstation meant to you. It was ours together. I should have just told you."
"… and how does Gurb actually make his money?"

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

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Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. 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First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
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Archive

Title pretty much says it all. You can add unreleased tracks like Boy With The Blues if you like, 10-14 songs, here’s mine below

1. Pass Me Down The Wine
2. Carry Us All
3. Shout It Out Loud
4. Just Getting Older
5. Full On
6. Those Swollen Hand Blues
7. Helter Skelter
8. (As Long As They’ve Got) Cigarettes In Hell
9. One Way Road
10. Idler’s Dream
11. Thank You For The Good Times
12. Eyeball Tickler
13. Let’s All Make Believe

I've read so many serious threads here this morning that I wanted to share a positive and funny story with y'all.
I discovered my daughter was a no-nonsense type of person when she was four years old. We were sitting outside in a public event, waiting on a 4th of July fireworks show, with my sister, her kids, and some of her family friends.
A woman of about 45ish, the mom of one of the sister's friends, was sitting near me and my kids. The woman lights up a cigarette, and the breeze blows the plume of smoke right into my 4-year-old's face. I was just turning in my chair to ask her to move, when my daughter sighed dramatically, turned to the woman and said as grown-up and bold as I've ever heard her, "Could you please not blow smoke into my face?" I was stunned by the sass and the annoyed look on my daughter's face, but what got me more was the woman started stammering and apologizing like an intimidating grown-ass woman had just scolded her. She moved immediately, and my daughter just went back to playing with her brother.
Fast forward to when she was 14ish, just before she came out. She always dressed sort of feminine, so the insecure jerkish boys at her school would sometimes try to target her for bullying. She's never been offended by any "You look/act like a girl!" comments (we soon found out why 🙂), so they would resort to comments that they thought would hurt her.
One boy snapped at her as she and her brother were walking to my classroom at the end of the day, *"You look like a stripper!" She swung around, flipped her hair, and placed her hand on her hip and said, "So you think I'm sexy?" 😆😆
The boy was shocked into silence and he stomped away mumbling.
I admire my daughter's tenacity and quick wit. 😍 😆
*For the record, she was just wearing jeans and a coral-colored t-shirt that day. Haters gonna hate, ig.

i can even feel it, the aura, the way she looks at me with disgust, from the moment she wakes up i feel uneasy, in my own room i feel uneasy, as if she’s watching me, i can feel not being welcome, being hated by my own mother. i dont want to stay, i really want to leave, i’d rather be homeless than live with this fucking narcissist any second. she wishes i was never born, she wishes i’d disappear, she wishes she never i was never even conceived, i can see it in her eyes.
this is the first time i call my mother that, i have never insulted her, never yelled at her or even raised my voice, in every “argument” it’s her screaming at me or saying very harsh things and me sitting there, taking it. but calling her that word after years of torment feels good.
she never smiles at me, i dont remember the last time she did, everytime i try to talk sweet to her and show her i love her, she says “i dont talk all lovey dovey” and implies she only knows how to communicate in insults and arguing.
im 18, im supposed to be in college, i cant afford it. i dont know what to do. do i apply to a college abroad? would they take me with my weak passport? my father died in august 2022, things went downhill from there, she became more bitter, she became harsh, and while i understood at first, it is taking a toll on me and i cant take it anymore.
she now torments me for the smallest of things.. like one time i came back from the gym, poured a cup of water, then poured another cup of water because i was thirsty and i had finished my water at the gym. she yells “who drinks like that!!? drink like a normal human.” and while that seems like just a minor inconvenience, the issue is it happens with every small action i make, over and over, daily, every single muscle i move, she has a negative comment about, and that was when i told her to just give me a fucking break.
how about that one time when i was 15, i came out to her about the fact that i was raped as a child, and couldnt say anything because of the extreme fear, and as any normal mother does, she had zero empathy and her eyes and just said “well why didnt you defend yourself?”. im not going to say how that made me feel. im just going to let you guess.
today i came back from friday prayer and got the car washed like she asked, she sees i came home wearing the home sandals instead of the main sandals i wear to go out, both normal sandals, but one is plastic sort of like a croc. she glares at me, raises her voice and says “is this what you wear to friday prayers? wont you dress like a normal person?” implying people were going to stare at my sandals which are taken off during prayers and judge me. i just cant. and when i told her i couldnt find my main sandals and was in a hurry, she said “fucking look for them, i put them right here in this drawer, use your head.”
when i forget small things she mentions, she gets pissed and talks to me in that same tone she always does, and that same glare, even though she knows im riddled with ADHD, but she doesnt care enough to learn a single thing about her son’s mental health problems, not the ADHD, not the BPD, not the chronic depression, all of which im not being treated for, and all of which i have been diagnosed with, all of which she was told and warned about.
did i mention, this one time? i had an insane tooth infection, the right side of my face was VERY swollen for days, i was in the worst pain of my life, i was terrified, and having already experienced an extreme panic disorder and health anxiety, god knows i was afraid of sepsis, and when my blood test results came back and i saw my white blood cell count was high, god forbid.. i panicked. i couldnt control it. i wanted to go back to the dentist, just to let him look at the report and tell me im okay, which was for free, in a dentist that was very close to my home, she didnt like that. she didnt like that i was riddled with health anxiety after spending 30+ minutes on top of my dad’s dead body trying to revive him, she couldnt accept that i had been traumatized. she kicks me out. so here i am, on the streets, face swollen, sleeping and shitting on the street with a fever and diarrhea, wiping my ass with pieces of cardboard, hoping to god nothing bad happens to me because that infection was sucking the power out of me.
she wants me to provide, im trying to provide, im trying to pay her back for the money she spent on me ever since i turned 18, but i JUST got qualified legally for work, and im JUST now able to even look for work, yet she has been shaming me for it before i was legal. so for now, until i find a job, im getting money from my ex, which im not so proud of, but so far i sent her 300 dollars hoping she shuts up, and 300$ is a good amount in my country. but she questions how i got that money, she thinks im selling my body for it. which honestly, im very willing to do at this point, i have a nice body and even though males are not as valuabe in that field, if it makes me money until a place im applying at accepts me, i dont have any morals and i’ll happily do it.
about the money she spent on me, usually food, and gym subscriptions, and an amount of money she spent to get me my driver’s license (which was in her best interest, by the way), did you know that i got nothing of my father’s inheritance? she took it all, no, i didnt even look at it, i didnt ask for it, and she sometimes even reminds me that i didnt deserve it, even though i never fucking had it, and it was a GOOD portion of the inheritance too.
and by the time i was 18, she claimed i blew all my side of the money on going to the fucking psychiatrist to stop me from killing myself, and gym memberships, she loves to talk about some “legally you owe me”, but arent you supposed to spend that much until im 18? legally speaking, since we wanna go that way. legally speaking, dont you OWE me that money? i didnt spend any of it, YOU did, and you’re way more happy to let me drive 140kms to get you packs of cigarettes that are cheaper that arent being sold here, spending a shit ton of gas money, every two weeks, rather than letting me see my girl who by the way offers to pay for any inconvenience for her because she knows how my mother is. but no, its not just the money that bugs her, 25 minute drive to see my girl is too much, but a 2 hour round trip just to spend more money on cigs isnt, right? no, she doesnt want me to be happy, she KNOWS she doesnt pay anything out of her own pockets when i go see my lady, she KNOWS seeing her gets me out of that depressed state, but she doesnt want me to, and when the money excuse gets old, she says “maybe 6 months ago i would have been happy for you, but you simply ruined it, your actions did this”.
actions, she says, or basically, my lack of action, yes mother, im terribly sorry i was born in a country that will not allow me to work until a month ago, im sorry that i couldnt apply to college because i cant afford it, and because i knew nothing about life, lived in the middle of nowhere my whole life and didnt start learning how the world works until i turned 17. you didnt teach my how to ride a bike, you didnt teach me how to defend myself, you didnt teach me how to speak english, you didnt teach me how to fucking swim, you didnt introduce me to any physical activity and fucking locked me at home my entire childhood, with just internet access, until i became overweight as a child, and until i took matters into my own hands and changed that. and guess what? my other two sisters? 9 and 16, one is overweight and the other is OBESE since she was a child. great fucking parenting, leaving a 9 year old glued to an ipad because you never knew how to be a mother. and when i tried to take matters into my own hands and restrict the 9 year old from spending 12 hours plus a day on the ipad doing god knows what with god knows who, so she can have real fucking friends, real life fucking experiences, “give it back. im her mother, not you”. well you’re the reason she’s fat, you’re the reason we all got bullied. maybe introduce the poor kid to a fucking sport? fuck.
and guess what? i kind of hated my dad too. he always called me useless, always had that same fucking stare in his eyes, always yelled at me to shut up and be a man if i ever cried as a kid, so much so that i WISH he beat me, i wish they beat me as a child rather than getting neglected, after my face got swollen at 5 years old from being slapped hard by him in a barbershop, they were too scared to do anything else because of the consequences it would cause them. so they decided to neglect. i wish you fucking taught me how to fight, i see all these dads teaching their boys how to defend themselves and you never taught me how to throw a punch, i had to do it all myself, i had to workout myself, i had to fill that lack of sense of masculinity up by getting as big and scary as possible, i had to teach myself how to not be a fat slob like you taught me anymore, because guess what? they were both fat slobs themselves, no fucking wonder they didnt know how to show their kids healthy habits.
if you think that these stories are just minor inconveniences, i agree with you, but imagine it happening every single day, every single second you’re at home, for years, it slowly builds up and becomes unbearable.

I’ll always feel guilty for the loss of a potential family, but I desperately want this man off my mind. I don’t even know where to begin. I just have a lot to say and no one who really has the time to listen. I’ll try to stay vague but our social circles don’t really intermingle and I don’t think I know anyone on here in real life. I can barely remember specific moments or map together periods of time cohesively but I’ll try my best. I used bullet points on my notes app to try to organize the important parts. So if it reads weird or blocky, I apologize. Trying to post multiple places for multiple opinions.
I hate to admit that I think I 23/F still love my baby’s father 30/M. That may not even be true. I’m hoping it’s just the drastic hormone changes after having a baby. I don’t want to reconcile or get back together, I just want a genuine opinion from anyone that bothers to read the entire thing or advise from anyone that may have been in a similar situation. It was a very toxic and abusive relationship due to both parties. I toyed with his feelings until it was too late and he would drink and get physical. I was always accusing him of cheating or wanting to cheat because my ex had cheated. Meanwhile I was in fact projecting in a way because I was still messaging said ex. Ex and I were friends before we had dated and were together for 2 years. He had cheated on his other relationships so I should have seen it coming, but he ended up trying to cheat on me and I ended things. I was 19-20 at the time and joined tinder. Experimented a little but ended up hooking up with a guy that had a crush on me in HS. We only hooked up 2-3 times but it started getting weird and I chickened out. Then I got an apartment and a better job and started casually hooking up with the ex again. I think he had a gf at this time but I didn’t ask. At the new job is where I met BD. He started a few weeks after me. I was 20 and he was 28 at the time. We started hanging out after work to smoke. It’s not something I would normally do with just one person and he wasn’t really my type. But the hangouts got longer and more frequent. And I ended up cutting the ex off again. A couple months in, I moved in way too soon because my roommate and I didn’t get along. My ex would still message me occasionally for some reason. He definitely had a gf at this time. Some would be nudes. I didn’t encourage the behavior but I also didn’t discourage it. Bd saw the messages while we were on vacation and was understandably upset. I was upset with myself for responding. I justified it to myself by claiming I was trying to waste his time. In reality he was wasting mine and not suffering in the slightest. There couldn’t have been a worse moment for him to find the messages. The week was supposed to be a huge step in our relationship and I could see how crushed he was. If I were him I would have left me in the hotel states away and gone home that morning. The whole ride home I was sick. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling, over something I so easily could have avoided and someone I had no interest in romantically or sexually anymore. I believe this is the first time Things got physical but as I said, the timeline is super blurry now. Regardless, if it was the first time, it should’ve been the last. No one should put up with being hit. And No one should feel that their only option is to put their hands on someone. This was when we were finally getting back to his house in our own state. He had picked up a few beers before hand, and that was generally his fuel to either argue or get violent. He had slapped me, choked me and spit in my face, all to which I gave him no reaction. I just sat on the bed silently, or tried to lock myself in the bathroom. He would walk away to smoke a cigarette and immediately come back to fight some more. He told me to pack up my shit but got more pissed off when he came inside to see me packing up my shit. I eventually got a few things packed up and made it to my grandmas’s house. We both calmed down and after a few calls and texts. he wanted to see where I was staying. I picked him up and brought him to my grandma‘s house. (Note: I should probably add that right before we got together. He got in a car accident that totally totaled his car and got a DUI. Since then I had been his ride and always joked That that’s all he kept me around for) We arrived at my grandma’s house, where she had a guestroom ready for me. He just sat on the bed with his head down and cried. He said that it looked like it was so easy for me to move on without him. Looking back, this should’ve been another red flag. All I had was a place to stay after being kicked out. He couldn’t accept that I would land on my feet without him. Most of my belongings were still at his house, and I didn’t want to burden my grandmother any further So I ended up going back with him. At this time I was still apologizing to him for what I had done and how I had made him react. One night after an argument, and a rough day in general. He walked out to grab a case of beer from the gas station and didn’t come back for hours. When I finally went out looking for him, he was at the spot that we had first kissed. There He told me I was holding him back From what he envisioned for his future. It was a lot more drawn out, less cohesive and not so nice (he had been well into his beer by then) but that was the gist of it. One of my biggest fears is being a burden, or anyone holding some secret resentment towards me. Him drinking only let me know how he truly felt and how he wanted to react. I could never put the same effort into the relationship after that. I felt like it was already over and had been over for a long time. A while later, he had seen that my ex reached out again nothing flirtatious this time, but he was still upset, understandably. He got violent again, and I locked myself in the bathroom. He took my keys and my phone and said he was going to go find him. I packed up a few things again and tried to walk over to my dad‘s house. His mission was futile and he ended up finding me walking and brought me back home. The whole night was tense and I didn’t feel safe in the morning before he woke up. I started quietly packing up my things. He woke up and immediately flew into a rage and started dumping my things out onto the ground. I called my mom to help me get out all the big things because I wanted to be all out in one trip. As I was leaving, he was screaming at my mother and I about how much a piece of shit I was, but was right back to begging for me back as soon as I was down the road. This was a reoccurring cycle for us. I’d always keep my phone and keys together in a designated spot in the house so I could get them quickly if I needed to leave. The ex no longer reached out, but we were both still suspicious of one another. Sometimes I would be gone for days sometimes weeks my belongings no longer came back because it didn’t feel like home anymore. It didn’t Feel like a safe or stable place for me. This also made him upset. Every time I would leave we would still text every day. It was an extremely toxic situation. During one period of time that i was gone He had one of our coworkers over for about a week sleeping in my bed with my cats. Throughout our entire relationship and our brakes I never met up with another person. I did leave so I didn’t have the right to be too upset. But He wasted no time having her over for an extended period of time while still begging for me to come back every day. Then I had to coax this information out of him after finding her clothes all over the house. I couldn’t get over the feeling that he had her and others lined up for when I was gone and him wanting me back meant nothing. By this time the dude I had gone to school/hooked up with had started at our job (This would seem like a cruel joke but we were in the same trade and this was one of the only decent jobs in our town.) I guess we had had a silent mutual agreement to keep out past between us because they became friends. Well, After finding out about his coworker, I told him about mine. It didn’t matter that the dates didn’t overlap. He went nutts. I don’t remember exactly how it all went down after that, but I left of course and he ended up going to this 20 year olds apartment. His roommate answered and BD demanded to know where this dude was and ends up slapping the roommate. (I have no idea why I kept going back. Typing this out, I feel so stupid. He was clearly fucking crazy and my brain was telling me to get the fuck out.) I was already suspicious of him because of how we both acted before we got together, but all of this just made it so much worse. I wanted to know why he felt the need to intimidate me into staying with him and calling it “crazy love” when he could so easily move on and leave me alone. (Why did infidelity have to be the dealbreaker and not everything else?) Bringing up my suspicions or insecurities, just made him defensive and occasionally violent. I never got any reassurance and my reasons for staying were few and far between. Then we found out I was pregnant. We found out when I was about seven weeks pregnant. The last time we had gotten into a physical fight I had been about 4 to 5 weeks pregnant. I was scared. Bd seemed happy. He said he wanted to be a family. Over the next few weeks, I was having extremely bad morning sickness I was in and out of the hospital on an IV for fluids and couldn’t leave our bedroom or bathroom. I still had to drive him to and from work which was only about 30 min round trip but I’d always have to stop on the side of the road to puke. (Note: There were five cats living in this house that I was Feeding and cleaning up after. We inherited two from the homeowner and three were ours) The house started to smell because I could no longer keep up with the cats, and this just made my morning sickness even worse. On top of this, I was having extremely bad back pain that I thought was just a symptom of pregnancy. After one of my trips to the hospital for fluids, they informed me that I had a UTI. I was about 10-11 weeks pregnant by then. I tried to tell him that I needed help with the house and that it was making me miserable. He just expressed that I would be complaining regardless. Whether it be about him spending enough time with me, helping clean, or working. This wasn’t even the worst of the treatment that I had received, but being pregnant, This was the last straw. I knew I couldn’t bring a baby into the abusive cycle that we were putting each other through. I don’t remember exactly how it happened. At this point I was looking for any reason to leave. But it happened and again I started packing up my shit. This time he barely put up a fight. He tried to dump my stuff out on the floor once, but I said if he tried to put his hands on me, I’d call the police this time. He sat in the kitchen on his phone until I was done packing. As I was carrying my belongings out to my car still weak and sick, we were screaming back-and-forth about how much we hated each other, and how I would never give him the chance to put his hands on my child. He shouted that he didn’t think the baby was even his, to which I replied, “Good, then I’ll never have to fight you in court”. That was our last face to face interaction. I filed for a civil protection order. It’s been about a year and since then, he has been claiming to his coworkers and his mother that my ex is the father. His mother doesn’t seem to believe him as she had kept in contact with me throughout my pregnancy, and since the baby’s been born. She requests a paternity test just to be sure, but I have no doubts that the baby is his. I am almost positive that he knows the baby is his too. His claims of me cheating are only his way of justifying me leaving and making it my fault. I sent her the information to reach out for a paternity test, but she hasn’t shown me any indication that he wants to be part of the baby’s life. Any time she brings up the situation to him, he gets angry with her and hangs up. I don’t know what’s going on in his life and I don’t want to. I’d only obsess over it and make myself upset if I did. I assume he’s living his dream and chasing his goals without me there to hold him back, especially with a child. Even after typing all this out and rereading and editing, I still miss him. I shouldn’t. I can’t tell if it’s the cycle calling me back or the drastic changes in hormones. I can’t even think of a reason that I should miss him. I don’t even think I miss him, just his presence or energy? It’s so hard to explain and I don’t want to feel this way. I have nightmares about trying to get away from him and out of the house but try to force myself back into the same dream just so I can see him. Is this normal? Do any other moms feel this way? Only attracted to the baby’s father even while split up? I have no sex drive when I used to be a fiend. I heard this can be a side-effect of the drastic hormone changes, but I don’t even feel an attraction anymore. Unless they’re a very specific type (My BD). I have no desire to move on or find a romantic connection. I do more harm than good and I’d rather focus on being a mom (which I’m loving aside from this issue).I know there’s no way of going back even if I wanted to. The damage has been more than done. I just want to make moving on easier and forget him. Do I just have to wait?

Where do I begin. For the purpose of this post, I will use fictious names and locations as it is ongoing, and out of respect (even though she doesn't deserve any)
My name is Daniel. I am 35 years old, and i am dying. I have a disease called systemic sclerosis. I am currently on a supplemental disability plan, until I get approved for SSI (social Security). Until then, my income is about 4K a month. I own a home but after child support and bills, NOT INCLUDING gas, food, haircuts, medical appointments, and or emergencies like my fridge just broke. (which i never go out) I am left with $260 that has to last me a month. I also have three children who I have to take care of half the time per the 50/50 agreement.
Recently, I found out my oldest, (who is 13) is not biologically mine. I decided to look into it as I had concerns for a while since my divorce as her cheating was very rampant. I also had caught her in 2017 with a man in my house, which is what prompted the divorce. But FL being a no fault state, doesn't matter. I also had to pay child support since the beginning and WHILE LEGALLY Married since 2010 because she had applied for financial support like food stamps and government assistance then. I know what your thinking. Why didnt you stop it then? I tried. You cant take yourself off child support. I also never grew up with a father and wanted that two-parent household. I don't run from responsibilities, like he did. Its how I was raised. Anyways, I married her, tried to do the right thing, she lied numerous times. she never worked, and I worked 90 plus hours a week. To look into her cheating, was impossible at the time as I was never home. and to busy providing for my family.
fast forward to now. My disease started to become worse and over three years; it didn't reveal itself until last year fully to actually pinpoint what this was. for instance, I had in 2019 pain behind my eyes and horrible headaches to the point that I thought I had MS. following year, I had trouble swallowing for 3 months. next year itching in the skin for three months. But prior, I had visited various doctors to see what was going on, each time a flare up then would last 3 to four months, which again, when you don't understand what's going on, you need to take time off to go see doctors, run tests, but this illness was and still is very elusive. with that being said I had 5 jobs since its first flare up till last year to continue to support my family and to pay child support. as of last year. I'm having trouble moving on certain days, breathing and acid reflux and muscle atrophy. (disease progression) especially when this is going on, it worsens everything as this is flared up. I was working under the table to try and make ends meet as I was paying child support still. I should add that the child support with 50/50 custody was $1029 for three kids cause I was making six figures at the time of divorce in 2018. Last year however, I couldn't work anymore, and filed for disability.
In june of last year, I had asked Susan, to get the children school supplies, (which she never does) as I was still paying at the time $1029 in child support. She said she didnt have the money despite now making 70k and her new BF living with her and is working whom she cheated on me with. With me working under the table, I bought them clothes, haircuts, school supplies (ive done every year) but then, I noticed she went on vacation to puerto rico and got a giant leg tattoo. At the time, I had already known what I had, and I asked myself why the heck am I doing this? So i turned to an attorney to get it modified. Again, this is June 20th to be exact of last year. My lawyer, stated that this was only going to be a 90 day turn around for the temporary modification then we will go for the final.
Since then, I have gone for a DNA test. I had to know. I am dying. I wanted to know. And you may judge me for this. but i have filed for disablement for paternity, meaning I am removing myself from the birth certificate. However, in the state of Florida, a mother can deny this and so can the courts. before you judge me, I have many reasons none of which have to do with him other then his mental disability (Aspergers) This illness, as days go by takes more and more from me. As previously aforementioned, I am left with 250 a month. I cannot go get a drs appointment pay for groceries or start planning my funeral which I will start making payments on soon. He also eats three times the amount that we all collectively do (Not his fault) but I have paid enough both mentally and financially. He also has trouble communicating as my suspicions is, that he was born of incest (gross) which is why I was 'chosen' to be his father at the time. Before you ask how do you know? Lets just say she had an uncle 'leave' during that time.
anyways, in February, I had the temporary modification hearing for child support and needless to say it was a circus. My doctor was subpoenaed to be there by my attorneys request to better my argument, even though I felt we didn't need her, she advised me to have my doctor there. Well, he attorney attacked my doctor and me for an hour and 40 mins when the court case was only supposed to go for an hour. He said "you saw another dr Max so and so and they said it was all in your head" (again I had flare ups on a illness that hadnt revealed itself correctly since last year). So there argument was that I was doctor seeking to avoid child support. After I have paid for 13 years never missing a payment. Her lawyer also targeted people who are living with me. Now I'll admit that I said they were friends which is true but how else can I pay for my attorney? Cant work, cant sell drugs, cant rob a bank? So they want to take there income into consideration. BS. She also hired a private investigator to watch me exercise outside and stated that because I can exercise, I can work..... Ok. Where's the 23 hours of the rest of the day watching me in pain. or when do you have me on video of a flare up from this terminal illness? (that's what I wanted to say)
Although I was granted the temporary modification, of $209, I left the court thinking wow, this woman can cheat, commit paternity fraud, not give two craps about our children, live with her mom in a section 8 home, and here I am doing whatever I can and I've done nothing wrong but be lied to and this is how my government, my country treats me? No wonder men my age dont have children this is insane. The paternity issue wasn't even brought up they said that this isnt the place for this and that the disestablishment will be another trial for those wondering. My lawyer only spoke for 5 mins. Asking her about her income cause thats the only thing that has changed since 2018 since she didnt work at the time. Other than that, it was an attack on me and my disease arguing my ability to work.
after leaving that, I didnt eat for 96 hours. I have since been crying nonstop. Compilating suicide. I am already heart broken about my son not being mine. Sure does a terminal illness make me said, no question everyday. But a life wasted on another? Cause I decided to be a man and take up responsibility? thats soul crushing. And to say "well, there is a big chance the courts will deny your request' thats BS. If i go to prison because I was accused of a robbery for 13 years, and DNA evidence proves I wasnt there, I get out of jail and can sue. This is no different. If anything, DNA evidence needs to be more of a factor in family law than in almost every court of law if not as equally important. My bad for not investigating her infidelity not only in the beginning but also in the end. How about not being a POS. sorry rant over
gets better. Her mom and dad smoke in the section 8 house, kids reek of cigarette smoke and marijuana, all day. they dont take showers there, they were hand me down clothes, they live in the garage shared with there mother, that isn't air conditioned. and he makes only a few thousand less than I do a month. She stated in court that she pays her mom $500 in rent which is BS, she is only doing that now so that she makes herself look bad. I know she is doing pills, like oxy and what not. Id love to prove it.
after the temp hearing, in april, I had to go to court to contest my drivers license suspension as I hadn't paid child support since, august of last year. again, there is no way, I can pay my bills, feed my children, go to the doctor, pay my lawyer to end all of this BS and pay the current child support amount. and again, this final hearing is still not set yet. So they intercepted my tax return, even though the temporary modification was approved, the final is what gets it retro backed to the date of filing, so they took, a much needed 5500 tax return from me. I needed that cause one of the issues I failed to mention as well, hurricane Ian has destroyed my home and I'm still going through that process too. not to mention I am on payment plans with Mayo clinic and other various medical facilities. (no one cares) but the interest that accrues, makes it impossible to catch up. also, Florida department of rev is overstepping I feel, and asking for medical info to be sent to them as well as updated doctors letters to be sent saying that I am still on disability.
a few weeks ago, I got an email from my lawyer having a withdrawal notice from her lawyer. in the withdrawal, he stated that he cannot represent her, due to something she may have withheld or lied about (more or less wasn't worded like that but you can tell). In feb court appearance they never produced the PI report, or videos, they had medical info they shouldn't have had, and they had very outlandish comments about my lifestyle. So my lawyer filed immediately a motion to compel. meaning, we want to see everything you have on my client. this was filed almost immediately after court appearance on feb 20th. Susan has failed to provide any updated info requested by my attorney so on june 18th, we have that upcoming hearing.
in the mean time, I have sent my lawyer, a very heavily requested topics, such as "where did they get my medical records, if those were lies, what are the consequences if any"? What did exercising have to do with any of this despite various drs saying he has to or he will get worse.
I know wat you must be thinking, what about your oldest, how can you do that to him. Please listen. This woman has taken everything from me. And i mean everything but the roof over my head. I am seeing a therapist to help with the suicidal thoughts. it isnt enough. the reality of it is, I chose to be loyal and it bit me in the butt. This disease will rob me of everything, my teeth will fall out ( I had 5 cavities last time I went to the dentist) I haven't had a cavity since I was 30 and even then I was suspicious. And I am brushing 5 time s a day to save them. My skin is tightening, and my arms and muscles are wasting. I will literally be left with nothing. My organs will also start to harden, and I will have to start getting around the clock care.
I forgot to mention they (child support) recently, sent a letter to SSI (social security) saying that they would garnish my SSI before I even got it, totaling $1029. the incorrect amount. I sent this to my lawyer and she is looking into it. But it shows that child support will overstep and breaks every law or freedom you may think you have. I DO take care of my children. if they need a haircut i do it, school supplies clothes, anything I do it. And I do it, cause she wont. What I want to leave you with, is that woman can be dead beats too. Child support was designed to have woman off of government subsidized programs like section 8 food stamps and what not. Also to make the man pay for their children man or woman I should say, I know this. I am not running from my obligation. I just want Susan, to have to pay for what's she's done to me and the kids.
I would like to hear your thoughts on this, please comment and share, all names are fake, but everything else is unfortunately real. I know it was wordy, but I wanted to provide as much backstory as possible. And please. Respect my descions. When you are end of life, I hope someone would be kind enough to respect yours. You may not agree and that's ok, but I am asking you to respect them. Thank you for reading.

The house stood by itself, certainly holding darkness within. I had no doubt that inside, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone, just like any other house.
I knew it was not like any other house. My dead parents would be proud.
Actually, I had no idea whether they’d be proud. Dead things take on a life of their own in our imaginations, and become far more than they ever could have been under different circumstances.
I pulled the jacket tighter. There was no point in trying to be discreet, but I’d rather be the weirdo in an unnecessary trench coat than the weirdo who was trying to hide a weapon.
I made my way around the structure and to the back door without anyone noticing. That wasn’t a good thing. We have a way of paying attention to everything except what’s important.
Grabbing the knob with a gloved hand, I found it to be locked. This was hardly my first time breaking into a house that didn’t want me, though, so I was inside a few seconds later.
I didn’t like how quiet the kitchen was. It felt like a presence, as though it was listening. A stifling flutter of vertigo and nausea tickled me as I waded through it. Turning into the hallway, it got worse, like I was diving underwater too quickly. My head spun.
The sensation emanated from the last room on the left; even without light, sound, or smell, it was overwhelming in the absence of what I should have felt. A sudden hitch pulled in my chest: I really didn’t want to go into the final room of this suffocating house in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark.
I wished I had someone in my life to disappoint. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have gone forward.
And so I found myself slowly stepping around the bedroom door, telling myself that I was ready to face whatever lay on the other side.
I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t learn about demons until I was grown up. While some people can see the demons inside of us, they like to stay hidden.
Not this one. It stood at the far end of the shadowy room, nine feet tall, curly goat’s horns atop the humanoid feline face of a man. Pugilist arms drooped at both sides, hanging to knees supported by cloven feet. Its tail twitched in time to the flicker of its forked tongue.
A little girl, maybe ten years old, trembled beneath her blanket, her skin alabaster white as her large eyes stared at the nightmare incarnate.
Fear chilled my blood. No matter how many times I saw the manifestation of everything vile in my mind, the terror never went away. Fear of death only stops when we’re dead.
The demon dropped its jaw – five inches, eight inches, a foot, even more – to reveal canines that dripped from infected gums to far below its jaw. It lowered its face to the terrified girl. She had nowhere to go: her bed was in the corner, and the bedroom had no windows.
“Stop.”
They both turned to me. I could smell the thing’s breath from across the room; it reeked like rotting fish had been washed using other rotten fish.
I reached into my jacket and grabbed the handle.
Our demon huffed, sending swirlies of exhaled air that threatened to melt the wallpaper. I held my breath and pointed the weapon. The thing saw how much the tip trembled, no matter how I tried to steady my hand. It smiled.
I blinked rapidly.
When it saw that I wasn’t going to move, the goat demon lurched toward me.
It had expected me to step back. When I didn’t do what it wanted, the thing got angrier. It lumbered forward, rising to its full height.
It’s impossible to appreciate just how tall nine feet is until a monster is standing right in front of you with its tongue writhing like a tortured snake. But still, I didn’t move.
Yet it knew I was afraid. The thing could smell it on me, wafting like a freshly opened Octomore whisky that had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball on fire.
I raised the handle higher. The shaky tip of my sword was now just below its chin.
This thing had the power to crush me.
“Run away.”
I peeked around the demon’s hyper-muscular frame to see the girl staring at me, the blanket pulled up to her eyes.
“You’re telling me that I should run away because it knows I’m afraid?”
She nodded, her black hair bobbing furiously.
The demon dropped its impossibly wide jaw and lowered it toward me. I could see straight past its uvula into a pulsing esophagus.
The exit was right behind me.
“I am afraid. Which is precisely why I can’t run.” I dropped the sword to the ground with a clang. Staring up at the monster, I spoke louder. “This demon’s name is Doubt. It lives among us because it will never go hungry in the presence of people.”
Its teeth stopped half an inch from my cheek. I tried not to cry. “This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt.”
It didn’t move. The putrid mouth still was sitting, still was sitting just beside the bedroom door.
And yet I stayed.
It held for a few seconds longer. And then it screamed.
The thing punched a hole in the wall with a single blow that sent shock waves through the air and jolted the girl into a standing position. I wanted to run away, to cry, to do anything but stay in place, but I learned long ago that we’re often strongest in our moments of weakness.
So I waited for Doubt to tire of us, since I knew it couldn’t hurt me as I was.
Finally it subsided, heaving as it stared, content for the moment to lurk in the background so that I would always know of its presence.
The girl, still trapped in the corner of the room, glared back and forth between us. “Who are you?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.
I had to swallow three times before I was sure I could speak without crying. “My name is Peter,” I responded, “and I’m a demon hunter like my parents before me.”
“How – how do you kill this one?” she asked, teetering on the edge of complete panic.
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to be rid of it entirely?”
She wrapped her arms around a white sleeping gown, looking ghostly, and nodded.
“The only certain cure is dying,” I answered. “Otherwise, he’ll always know how to find you.” I plucked my parents’ sword from the ground. “In the meantime, try letting go of a weapon. Most people don’t know how not to use violence.” I held out my hand, inviting her to escape.
“Is it safe?” she whispered.
“No.”
She glanced at the demon once more.
“Stop staring. It only makes the thing stronger.”
She continued to stare before leaping from the bed and trotting over toward me and slipping on a pair of shoes by the door. “We’re going away, aren’t we?”
I looked down at her. “You know why it’s hunting you?”
She looked back up with big, brown eyes that only seemed innocent on the surface. “They’ve come for the most dangerous weapon in the world.”
The words sent chills down my back. I didn’t need to affirm what we both knew.
“It’s time to leave.”
She turned at my words, and we walked side-by-side down the hallway, putting the room behind us.
We couldn’t put it behind us. I felt the demon’s first step, and I heard the second. Each footfall of ours was met by two more, just behind us.
“Is it following us?” she whispered.
I clenched my fist. “Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Hot, wet breath caressed my neck as the hair on the back of my head was graced lightly by what felt like a forked tongue.
“How can we live like this?” she asked. Her cheeks were shiny.
“Well, you never know when life is gonna twist the story like an eager titty.”
We froze. Standing before us in the kitchen was a gray-haired woman in her sixties taking a long drag on a cigarette. The skin around her eyes wrinkled in a way that made me think she’d spent a lifetime laughing at people facing the consequences of what seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Sorry, Sugar. I sometimes forget to watch my fucking mouth when kids are around.”
A million questions raced through my head at the stranger’s presence, but only one reached my lips. “Can you see what’s behind me?”
She looked between the two of us, one eyebrow raised like a skeptical proctologist hearing the same lie a hundredth time.
“So it’s visible to you,” I pressed, my pulse quickening. “Do you know what it is?”
She took another extensive drag on the cigarette, clearly more interested in nicotine than self-preservation. “No, but if I could scrub my clothes on its stomach, I’d never use a washing machine again.”
For the first time since leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder.
It was an inch away. The disgusting pubic stubble on its chin raked my neck.
“Someone is after her,” I explained to the stranger.
“Someone is after you, Peter.”
A shudder went through my bones upon hearing my name. “Why – who the hell are you?”
She took the deepest pull yet on a cigarette that was almost out, closing her eyes before answering. “My name is Patricia Barnes. I like to think of myself as the reciprocation of every testicular-based mistake.”
I shook my head. There was no way I could even attempt to understand what the hell she was saying. “We need to leave. Now.”
The little girl looked up at me. “What’s going to happen?”
The first thing that parents learn is how to lie to their children, and the last thing that children do is learn just how much their parents were lying. That’s the boundary of adulthood, and our only unifying feature is that we’re not ready for it.
“Kid, this is going to suck,” I promised. The demon wormed his tongue into my ear. I ignored it. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she answered. I thought she was going to hold my hand. She didn’t.
“The sun’s about to rise,” I went on. “We need to be gone by then.” I opened the back door once again, and the two of them followed me out. I didn’t check for the demon, because I was looking forward.
“You found me,” I said to Patricia once we were standing in the still night air. “They’ll find us soon.”
She snorted. “You were only looking at what I wanted you to see.”
I turned to her and folded my arms as she lit another cigarette.
“What happened to the last one I was smoking?” she asked through clenched teeth.
I shook my head, ready to turn away from her.
She yanked it from her mouth and blew a long stream into the night air. “I set it down just before crossing the room to turn on the pilot light.”
I opened my mouth to respond.
Then I froze, staring.
“I left it on high, Sugar. You’d better run.”
I grabbed Gwen’s hand and sprinted into the trees behind her house. Patricia was surprisingly fast in her high-heeled boots and long skirt; it was clear that she’d been mentally preparing for this.
We were hiding behind the trees when the explosion sent shock waves through us. I turned back to stare at the wreckage. “Can anyone else see it?” I breathed. “I’ve watched far worse things that no one noticed.”
Before I received an answer, silhouettes moved against the flames. Two men stared up at the crimson night. One paced back and forth, clearly pissed, while the other stood placidly with his arms on his hips.
“God,” I whispered, “they were outside this whole time, waiting for us.” I turned to stare at Patricia, who was recovering from her sprint with closed eyes and another inhalation of cigarette smoke, before looking at Gwen. She seemed so vulnerable, pale almost to the point of glowing in the first gray rays of a dawning sun.
Patricia sighed. “Do you know how many cigarettes I’ve gone through explaining things to men who should have figured out my motivations the 1,913th time I made it obvious?”
I folded my arms. “That’s a random number.”
She coughed. “Not if you put together all the clues. Look, sometimes memories stick better when I slap the listener around a little. Do you need a good smacking?”
“No.”
“Offer’s on the table.” She dropped her cigarette onto the dirt, crushing it beneath her boot as she lit another. Patricia closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. “Are you ready for the truth?”
“No one is.”
She opened her eyes and cackled. “Good boy.” Looking up toward the two shadows, one still pacing, the other statue-still, she pursed her lips. “They’re not going to give up the most dangerous weapon in the world that easily,” she pressed, eyebrows raised.
I looked at her, she looked at me, and I think that we finally understood one another.
“There’s no going back,” she continued, her voice eerily calm. “Peter, this is just the beginning.”
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The house stood by itself, certainly holding darkness within. I had no doubt that inside, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone, just like any other house.
I knew it was not like any other house. My dead parents would be proud.
Actually, I had no idea whether they’d be proud. Dead things take on a life of their own in our imaginations, and become far more than they ever could have been under different circumstances.
I pulled the jacket tighter. There was no point in trying to be discreet, but I’d rather be the weirdo in an unnecessary trench coat than the weirdo who was trying to hide a weapon.
I made my way around the structure and to the back door without anyone noticing. That wasn’t a good thing. We have a way of paying attention to everything except what’s important.
Grabbing the knob with a gloved hand, I found it to be locked. This was hardly my first time breaking into a house that didn’t want me, though, so I was inside a few seconds later.
I didn’t like how quiet the kitchen was. It felt like a presence, as though it was listening. A stifling flutter of vertigo and nausea tickled me as I waded through it. Turning into the hallway, it got worse, like I was diving underwater too quickly. My head spun.
The sensation emanated from the last room on the left; even without light, sound, or smell, it was overwhelming in the absence of what I should have felt. A sudden hitch pulled in my chest: I really didn’t want to go into the final room of this suffocating house in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark.
I wished I had someone in my life to disappoint. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have gone forward.
And so I found myself slowly stepping around the bedroom door, telling myself that I was ready to face whatever lay on the other side.
I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t learn about demons until I was grown up. While some people can see the demons inside of us, they like to stay hidden.
Not this one. It stood at the far end of the shadowy room, nine feet tall, curly goat’s horns atop the humanoid feline face of a man. Pugilist arms drooped at both sides, hanging to knees supported by cloven feet. Its tail twitched in time to the flicker of its forked tongue.
A little girl, maybe ten years old, trembled beneath her blanket, her skin alabaster white as her large eyes stared at the nightmare incarnate.
Fear chilled my blood. No matter how many times I saw the manifestation of everything vile in my mind, the terror never went away. Fear of death only stops when we’re dead.
The demon dropped its jaw – five inches, eight inches, a foot, even more – to reveal canines that dripped from infected gums to far below its jaw. It lowered its face to the terrified girl. She had nowhere to go: her bed was in the corner, and the bedroom had no windows.
“Stop.”
They both turned to me. I could smell the thing’s breath from across the room; it reeked like rotting fish had been washed using other rotten fish.
I reached into my jacket and grabbed the handle.
Our demon huffed, sending swirlies of exhaled air that threatened to melt the wallpaper. I held my breath and pointed the weapon. The thing saw how much the tip trembled, no matter how I tried to steady my hand. It smiled.
I blinked rapidly.
When it saw that I wasn’t going to move, the goat demon lurched toward me.
It had expected me to step back. When I didn’t do what it wanted, the thing got angrier. It lumbered forward, rising to its full height.
It’s impossible to appreciate just how tall nine feet is until a monster is standing right in front of you with its tongue writhing like a tortured snake. But still, I didn’t move.
Yet it knew I was afraid. The thing could smell it on me, wafting like a freshly opened Octomore whisky that had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball on fire.
I raised the handle higher. The shaky tip of my sword was now just below its chin.
This thing had the power to crush me.
“Run away.”
I peeked around the demon’s hyper-muscular frame to see the girl staring at me, the blanket pulled up to her eyes.
“You’re telling me that I should run away because it knows I’m afraid?”
She nodded, her black hair bobbing furiously.
The demon dropped its impossibly wide jaw and lowered it toward me. I could see straight past its uvula into a pulsing esophagus.
The exit was right behind me.
“I am afraid. Which is precisely why I can’t run.” I dropped the sword to the ground with a clang. Staring up at the monster, I spoke louder. “This demon’s name is Doubt. It lives among us because it will never go hungry in the presence of people.”
Its teeth stopped half an inch from my cheek. I tried not to cry. “This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt.”
It didn’t move. The putrid mouth still was sitting, still was sitting just beside the bedroom door.
And yet I stayed.
It held for a few seconds longer. And then it screamed.
The thing punched a hole in the wall with a single blow that sent shock waves through the air and jolted the girl into a standing position. I wanted to run away, to cry, to do anything but stay in place, but I learned long ago that we’re often strongest in our moments of weakness.
So I waited for Doubt to tire of us, since I knew it couldn’t hurt me as I was.
Finally it subsided, heaving as it stared, content for the moment to lurk in the background so that I would always know of its presence.
The girl, still trapped in the corner of the room, glared back and forth between us. “Who are you?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.
I had to swallow three times before I was sure I could speak without crying. “My name is Peter,” I responded, “and I’m a demon hunter like my parents before me.”
“How – how do you kill this one?” she asked, teetering on the edge of complete panic.
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to be rid of it entirely?”
She wrapped her arms around a white sleeping gown, looking ghostly, and nodded.
“The only certain cure is dying,” I answered. “Otherwise, he’ll always know how to find you.” I plucked my parents’ sword from the ground. “In the meantime, try letting go of a weapon. Most people don’t know how not to use violence.” I held out my hand, inviting her to escape.
“Is it safe?” she whispered.
“No.”
She glanced at the demon once more.
“Stop staring. It only makes the thing stronger.”
She continued to stare before leaping from the bed and trotting over toward me and slipping on a pair of shoes by the door. “We’re going away, aren’t we?”
I looked down at her. “You know why it’s hunting you?”
She looked back up with big, brown eyes that only seemed innocent on the surface. “They’ve come for the most dangerous weapon in the world.”
The words sent chills down my back. I didn’t need to affirm what we both knew.
“It’s time to leave.”
She turned at my words, and we walked side-by-side down the hallway, putting the room behind us.
We couldn’t put it behind us. I felt the demon’s first step, and I heard the second. Each footfall of ours was met by two more, just behind us.
“Is it following us?” she whispered.
I clenched my fist. “Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Hot, wet breath caressed my neck as the hair on the back of my head was graced lightly by what felt like a forked tongue.
“How can we live like this?” she asked. Her cheeks were shiny.
“Well, you never know when life is gonna twist the story like an eager titty.”
We froze. Standing before us in the kitchen was a gray-haired woman in her sixties taking a long drag on a cigarette. The skin around her eyes wrinkled in a way that made me think she’d spent a lifetime laughing at people facing the consequences of what seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Sorry, Sugar. I sometimes forget to watch my fucking mouth when kids are around.”
A million questions raced through my head at the stranger’s presence, but only one reached my lips. “Can you see what’s behind me?”
She looked between the two of us, one eyebrow raised like a skeptical proctologist hearing the same lie a hundredth time.
“So it’s visible to you,” I pressed, my pulse quickening. “Do you know what it is?”
She took another extensive drag on the cigarette, clearly more interested in nicotine than self-preservation. “No, but if I could scrub my clothes on its stomach, I’d never use a washing machine again.”
For the first time since leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder.
It was an inch away. The disgusting pubic stubble on its chin raked my neck.
“Someone is after her,” I explained to the stranger.
“Someone is after you, Peter.”
A shudder went through my bones upon hearing my name. “Why – who the hell are you?”
She took the deepest pull yet on a cigarette that was almost out, closing her eyes before answering. “My name is Patricia Barnes. I like to think of myself as the reciprocation of every testicular-based mistake.”
I shook my head. There was no way I could even attempt to understand what the hell she was saying. “We need to leave. Now.”
The little girl looked up at me. “What’s going to happen?”
The first thing that parents learn is how to lie to their children, and the last thing that children do is learn just how much their parents were lying. That’s the boundary of adulthood, and our only unifying feature is that we’re not ready for it.
“Kid, this is going to suck,” I promised. The demon wormed his tongue into my ear. I ignored it. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she answered. I thought she was going to hold my hand. She didn’t.
“The sun’s about to rise,” I went on. “We need to be gone by then.” I opened the back door once again, and the two of them followed me out. I didn’t check for the demon, because I was looking forward.
“You found me,” I said to Patricia once we were standing in the still night air. “They’ll find us soon.”
She snorted. “You were only looking at what I wanted you to see.”
I turned to her and folded my arms as she lit another cigarette.
“What happened to the last one I was smoking?” she asked through clenched teeth.
I shook my head, ready to turn away from her.
She yanked it from her mouth and blew a long stream into the night air. “I set it down just before crossing the room to turn on the pilot light.”
I opened my mouth to respond.
Then I froze, staring.
“I left it on high, Sugar. You’d better run.”
I grabbed Gwen’s hand and sprinted into the trees behind her house. Patricia was surprisingly fast in her high-heeled boots and long skirt; it was clear that she’d been mentally preparing for this.
We were hiding behind the trees when the explosion sent shock waves through us. I turned back to stare at the wreckage. “Can anyone else see it?” I breathed. “I’ve watched far worse things that no one noticed.”
Before I received an answer, silhouettes moved against the flames. Two men stared up at the crimson night. One paced back and forth, clearly pissed, while the other stood placidly with his arms on his hips.
“God,” I whispered, “they were outside this whole time, waiting for us.” I turned to stare at Patricia, who was recovering from her sprint with closed eyes and another inhalation of cigarette smoke, before looking at Gwen. She seemed so vulnerable, pale almost to the point of glowing in the first gray rays of a dawning sun.
Patricia sighed. “Do you know how many cigarettes I’ve gone through explaining things to men who should have figured out my motivations the 1,913th time I made it obvious?”
I folded my arms. “That’s a random number.”
She coughed. “Not if you put together all the clues. Look, sometimes memories stick better when I slap the listener around a little. Do you need a good smacking?”
“No.”
“Offer’s on the table.” She dropped her cigarette onto the dirt, crushing it beneath her boot as she lit another. Patricia closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. “Are you ready for the truth?”
“No one is.”
She opened her eyes and cackled. “Good boy.” Looking up toward the two shadows, one still pacing, the other statue-still, she pursed her lips. “They’re not going to give up the most dangerous weapon in the world that easily,” she pressed, eyebrows raised.
I looked at her, she looked at me, and I think that we finally understood one another.
“There’s no going back,” she continued, her voice eerily calm. “Peter, this is just the beginning.”

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

⎯

★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

⎯

★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

⎯

★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

⎯

★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - Factory New (FN), Minimal Wear (MW), Field-Tested (FT), Well-Worn (WW), Battle-Scarred (BS), Stickers Holo/Foil/Gold - Katowice 2014, Krakow 2017, Howling Dawn, Katowice 2015, Crown, London 2018, Cologne 2014, Boston 2018, Atlanta 2017, Cluj-Napoca 2015, DreamHack 2014, King on the Field, Harp of War, Winged Difuser, Cologne 2016, Cologne 2015, MLG Columbus 2016, Katowice 2019, Berlin 2019, RMR 2020, Stockholm 2021, Antwerp 2022, Paris 2023, Swag Foil, Flammable foil, Others - Souvenirs, Agents, Pins, Passes, Gifts, Music Kits, Cases, Keys, Capsules, Packages, Patches

Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.

Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.

Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

⎯

★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

⎯

★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

⎯

★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

⎯

★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

⎯

★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

⎯

★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

⎯

★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

⎯

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

⎯

★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

⎯

★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

⎯

★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

⎯

★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

⎯

★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

⎯

★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

⎯

★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

⎯

★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

⎯

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

⎯

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

⎯

★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

⎯

★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

⎯

★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - Factory New (FN), Minimal Wear (MW), Field-Tested (FT), Well-Worn (WW), Battle-Scarred (BS), Stickers Holo/Foil/Gold - Katowice 2014, Krakow 2017, Howling Dawn, Katowice 2015, Crown, London 2018, Cologne 2014, Boston 2018, Atlanta 2017, Cluj-Napoca 2015, DreamHack 2014, King on the Field, Harp of War, Winged Difuser, Cologne 2016, Cologne 2015, MLG Columbus 2016, Katowice 2019, Berlin 2019, RMR 2020, Stockholm 2021, Antwerp 2022, Paris 2023, Swag Foil, Flammable foil, Others - Souvenirs, Agents, Pins, Passes, Gifts, Music Kits, Cases, Keys, Capsules, Packages, Patches

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The new gift-specific dialogue from the 1.6 update has me absolutely tickled pink! This one especially… I also haven’t practiced my creative writing in a while, and I decided it needed to happen sooner rather than later, so here, have a short story! Sorry if it's boring… I’m a little rusty!
“A Gift From The Void”
It was only yesterday… No one was quite sure where it had come from. There had been a sinister cackling noise ringing through the night air and Abigail had mentioned seeing an unidentifiable shape soaring through the sky during her walk home from the cemetery. The townsfolk gossiped and speculated about what it could have been that evening, but by the next morning they still hadn’t come to any reasonable explanation. It was only yesterday, and yet the entire village seemed to have already put it out of their minds and moved on. The scandal and chatter following the “Anchovy Soup Incident” at the Summer Luau several years back had lasted far longer than this… Even now Sam was still getting sideways glances whenever he got within a 20 foot radius of the soup cauldron, but this just blows over in less than a day? The priorities of small town people were strange.
Things had gone back to that same semblance of backwater, middle-of-nowhere kind of normal, and now the night had become just the same as any other Friday evening. Sebastian was playing a round of billiards with Sam, and while Sam was preoccupied with lining up the cue with his intended target ball, the farmer strolled into the saloon and up to the bar. Heads turned and raised to the newcomer for a moment before returning to whatever it was that had been previously holding their attention. Sebastian caught the sudden flourish of movement out of his periphery, but didn’t pay it much mind. The farmer ordered a coffee and a plate of the night’s special, and struck up a conversation with Gus about a peculiar egg that had materialized in their coop seemingly out of nowhere the night before. Apparently they’d decided to tuck it away into the incubator and wait to see what… if anything hatched from it.
Sebastian had never really been one to eavesdrop, but the wait for Sam to make his move was becoming boring, and sometimes the stories that passed around the saloon on Friday evenings got interesting depending on who all was involved. The story didn’t really go too far into detail. The farmer poked at their food until it had cooled enough to not scald the inside of their mouth, then they took a few bites before bringing up the events of the previous evening. What first started off as a funny story seemed to turn into some deep discussion with Gus about the mysteries of life. Eventually, Willy and Elliott were caught up in the mirth and it turned into a medley of strange tales from faraway lands and once-upon-a-times. Obviously exaggerated sightings of fearsome creatures on a midnight stormy sea, legends of colossal white whales, references to works written by masters of the mystery genre, as well as some from a trashy neo-noir novel or two that had probably been picked up from a bookstore clearance shelf.
Willy stroked his beard and mused about some daring battle between himself and a fish of questionable proportions that seemed to grow larger each time he told the story. Sebastian had heard this one before. The fight over the line had gone on for over an hour before the shadow of the fish rose near to the surface, and just before Willy could land the monster of a catch, it dove below again, taking the whole fishing rod overboard and nearly Willy himself with it.
Elliott gulped down the last few swigs of ale in his tankard, slapped the farmer firmly on the back, snorted and chuckled in an ungraceful yet jolly display that only ever crept out of him when he’d had a bit too much to drink.
“That fish becomes more miraculous each time he talks about it!” Elliott shook his head and smiled as he leaned almost a little too far forward. There was a slight sway to his posture and he tried to straighten his body back in line with the barstool. “To life, and her many little silly tricks of fate, my friends!” he declared. He raised the empty mug, and with his free hand, delicately tucked a few strands of stray hair behind his ear with the tips of his fingers. He rested his elbow back on the bar before he could lose his balance and sighed contently. Elliott’s cheeks were practically glowing red at this point and it was a wonder that he wasn’t slurring his words yet.
“Aye, you’ve all heard my fish story haven’t ye?” Willy chuckled. “How ‘bout the one about the Baba Yaga?” the farmer’s head tilted and they gazed curiously at the fisherman. Willy rested his foot on the crossbar of the barstool, lifted the rim of his hat out of his line of sight, and leaned into the counter. “Some know ‘er as the cannibal witch… others say she’s just a misunderstood haggard ol’ woman who lives alone out in woods or marshes. It’s said she lives a rickety old house that stands on chicken feet, and she likes to lure weary travelers into ‘er home, only to gobble ‘em up once they let their guard down. Apparently she’s especially fond of the taste of children…” He laughed in a hoarse tone and made strange spider-like gestures with his calloused hands as if he were telling campfire stories to a group of kids. The farmer’s nose wrinkled at the outlandish notion of some feral old woman devouring toddlers, and Willy laughed heartily at their reaction. “I think that last part the parents like to add into the story to frighten the little ones. It keeps ‘em from wondering into the forests and swamps alone at night.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and glanced back to the pool table. He watched the cue ball clack into the twelve before the twelve bounced off the barriers in the corner of the table and rolled slowly to a stop on the felt surface without pocketing. Sam huffed and stood back upright.
“You really aren’t very good at this, are you?” Seb chimed as he returned his full attention to the game at hand. Sam grinned and laughed.
“Nope!”
“Watch and learn….” Sebastian took aim at the cue ball, and after a single firm strike, drove it into the tiny gap between the two and seven. The cue stopped hard, but the two and seven sped to the opposite corners of the foot of the table, each dropping into one of the corner pockets simultaneously. Sam scoffed and paced about the pool room, but looked back over his shoulder just in time to catch Sebastian with a triumphantly cheeky grin on his face. Sam clicked his tongue and lightly thumped the base of his cue stick into the floorboards.
“Show-off…” he mumbled.
Elliott lifted the rim of the empty vessel to his lips, then chuckled again as he noticed the absence of ale and gestured it in Gus’ direction.
“Good sir, my glass is empty and…. I’m a writer!”
“Maybe you should stop for tonight…” the farmer interjected. “You won’t be sober enough to start your next chapter in the morning!” Elliott rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar counter. He tried to give one of his best theatrically exasperated sighs, but when the exhale turned into a case of the hiccups, they knew he was down for the count. He smiled defiantly and tried his best to look dignified through the sudden spasms in his diaphragm and soused thousand yard stare.
“I-am fiiine… ne’re betta’…”
“…..Aaaand, there he goes…” Leah giggled from the end of the bar counter. “It’s like dropping a ton of bricks on a peach.”
“I oughtta’ help the ol’ scallywag home, I s’pose!” Willy groaned as he stood from the bar stool. He smiled as he hoisted one of Elliott’s arms over his shoulders and stood him up from the bar stool. “C’mon you menace… Let’s get ya home before you make a fool of yourself in front of all the lassies!” he chuckled. Sam took a moment to appreciate the situation at the bar counter. He shook his head and laughed, then took another shot at the 12 and missed horribly yet again.
“Easy does it there!” Emily cooed as she cleared away the empty tankard. “Try not to drop him too hard!” Elliott wobbled towards the door as Willy struggled to keep him upright, and just before they stepped out into the lukewarm summer evening, the farmer waved one last farewell and called out to the well marinated dandy-man as he staggered away.
“Nighty-night! Sleep tight, Rapunzel!” they chirped. Elliot responded to the joke by blowing an overly exaggerated kiss over his shoulder and daintily waiving his fingertips at the company in the saloon, then he nearly tripped over himself as he turned back to the path home. A couple of snorts, giggles and guffaws rose up over the music and chatter in the saloon and quickly melted back into the white noise once the moment passed.
Seb looked Sam in the eyes with a determined glare and smirked.
“Eight in the corner pocket….” Seb didn’t have a clear shot, but leaned over the table, reared back the stick and spiked it into the cue ball. It ricocheted from the bumper, side-swiped the eight, and put just enough force into the edge to cause it to spin sideways into the pocket he’d called. Sam laughed and scratched at the back of his head.
“Awwww, man…” he groaned. “You got me again!” Sam leaned against his cue stick and looked over the table before his eyes lit up in anticipation. “How about a best three out of five?” Abigail giggled at Sam’s request as she stretched and leaned back into the sofa.
“Give it up, blondie! He cooks your goose at this game EVERY single time…. You’re doomed.” She teased. “It’s getting late anyways…”
…
It had been almost a month since the odd shape had been spotted flying over town at this point. Seb and Abby had talked in depth about it, and though most of the other townsfolk had come to the conclusion that it had merely been some sort of exotic bird flying out toward the fern islands, Abby was positive she hadn’t been mistaken. In fact she was adamant that the form looked human. She hadn’t seen or heard any wings flapping and the “squawking” sounded more so like the laugh of an old woman than the cries of a bird. The figure seemed to levitate or hover effortlessly and without the use of any physical or mechanical assistance. It was slumped over as if it was curled up or sitting and just…. Floated away.
The long night spent coding and researching the relevant programing issues at the computer, had caused Sebastian to rise late. He was groggy, didn’t have much motivation to bother rolling out of bed, and it was almost noon at this point. He could hear the rain pattering against the roof of the house and the rumble of distant thunder. As lazy as he felt, a smoke sounded pretty good about now. The sound and sight of the ocean on rainy days also had a way of clearing his head and a little stroll would probably do him some good.
He didn’t pass anyone on the way out of the house. Robin was likely at her aerobics club, Maru, at work in the clinic, and who knew where Demetrius was… Out shoving dirt samples into test tubes, or measuring the volume and PH of the current rainfall? As long as he wasn’t dissecting frogs. Out of all of Sebastian’s childhood memories, that was the one that stuck in his head and haunted him. Back then, Maru had only just been born, and while Robin was busy keeping her entertained, fixing her bottle or changing diapers, Seb was wandering the house trying to find something to occupy his time. He’d wandered into his step-father’s study and there on the examination tray was a deceased frog pinned on it’s back, limbs splayed like Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” with it’s belly sliced open. Sebastian had cried and pouted over that for several days and had given Demetrius the silent treatment for even days longer intermixed with spells of arm crossing, head turning and the occasional stuck out tongue and blown raspberry. He cringed at the thought even now.
The hinges creaked as he pushed the front door open and paused. The summer was starting to give way to autumn and the parched ground soaked up the rain and turned loose the pungent, almost overpowering scent of petrichor.
Sebastian flipped the hood of his pull-over around his head and tightened up the drawstrings. He took a moment to smell the aroma of wet grass and earth that drifted through the air and held the fragrance in his lungs as he closed the door behind him.
He began his slow, steady march toward the beach and lost count of his steps after he’d passed the old Community Center. He’d barely noticed the changing of terrain under his feet as he moved almost subconsciously toward the ocean. The raw, muddy dirt paths of the mountain, the crunch of rough stones and shuffle of old, dead pine needles that carpeted the ground… They’d transitioned into the grass and cobblestone of the town plaza at some point, but they all seemed to blend together into “just steps” after a while. His inner thoughts distracted him to the point where he barely paid attention to his surroundings until he felt his footfalls sinking and shifting underneath him, and he knew he’d hit sand. He heaved a deep sigh of the salt air and looked over the horizon as he paced toward the docks.
When the sky was this gray and muted, the color of the sea seemed to take on it’s own jewel-like quality and without the blue sky to draw attention away from it, the eyes of each breaking wave became a splendor to watch. They erupted into columns of aquamarine, sapphire and sodalite laced with the bright, almost pearlescent white of the sea foam before curling over, crashing into the tides and giving way to the next one.
Sebastian came to a stop at the furthest reaching section of the wood panels and straightened up his posture as he groped into his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he’d brought with him. He selected one from the box, tucked it between his teeth and plunged his fingers back into the pocket for his lighter. He curled his left hand in front of his face, to protect the fire from the wind, flicked open the lid and thumbed the igniter. The flint sparked into a flame as it spun and lit up the end of the cigarette to a smoldering red glow. He pulled in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out and watching the smoke dance away in the wind. It still wasn’t quite as satisfying as that first breath of rain when he’d stepped out of the house. Another sigh escaped Seb’s lips as he stared back at the oncoming crests of seawater and his mind started to drift again.
He imagined the city lights blazing somewhere across the ocean like stars, and thought about starting over somewhere far away. Disappearing, and reappearing somewhere else like a shadow moving through fragments of darkness and light, somewhere where no one knew him. Just vanishing and leaving everything behind. His parents, his sister, his friends… the thought excited him for a moment, before giving way to an intense feeling of regret and sadness. Maybe even a little shame. Having everyone was frustrating, but would having none of them be better or worse? He’d never known anything else. The same friends he’d grown up with, the same smell of the changing seasons in the mountain air, the same four walls of his bedroom, the sound of his sister’s laugh, or the taste of his mother’s cooking… even the way his stepfather overreacted to the littlest things was something he'd grown used to. He took another long breath.
The waves lapped and pounded at the underside of the dock so loudly he couldn’t hear the patter of oncoming footfalls against the wood and he was caught unaware when a sudden presence made itself known.
“Hey.” The start was enough to make him tense up, and he almost tripped over his own feet. Seb whirled around and when he found himself face to face with the farmer, he relaxed again.
“You scared the absolute crap out of me…..” He said as he rolled his eyes. He flicked his thumb against the filter of the cigarette to knock away the ashes and looked over the docks. They were alone.
“Sorry….” There was an awkward moment of silence between the two of them before Sebastian tried to force conversation.
“What are you up to out here?” He asked. He wasn’t really interested in the answer, but felt obligated to return the acknowledgement of his presence. The farmer held up the rod that was firmly clasped in their right hand and gestured to the ocean.
“Fishing!” Seb raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the response.
“In the rain?” he asked. His tone was almost dismissive. The farmer nodded.
“Willy said that there’s a number of fish that only come out when it’s raining, so I wanted to see what bites.” They began. “Some fish just like it better this way I guess.” There was another long pause. “…and you?”
“Hanging out…” Seb shrugged and adjusted the collar of his hoodie.
“In the rain?” The irony of the retort wasn’t lost on either of them though only the farmer seemed to find it amusing.
“Some people just like it better this way too…” Seb declared as he shifted his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. “I like to come out here where it’s quiet and have some alone time with my own thoughts.” There was a brief moment of guilt when Sebastian realized that he hadn’t actually ever bothered to ask the farmer’s name, but his introverted nature snubbed it out pretty quickly.
“Well, if you’re out here for some alone time, I won’t keep bothering you. I’ll go find a spot to fish and leave you to it.” At least they could take a hint. The farmer turned to leave and Sebastian suddenly regretted the entire conversation. Maybe he came off as cold and bristly? Either way, they hadn’t meant any harm. Just engaging in basic pleasantries. He found himself compelled to say something else just so the conversation wouldn’t end on such a sour note, then the thought of the flying figure and the appearance of the strange egg in the farmer’s coop a while back suddenly popped into his head.
“Wait….” Sebastian flicked away the spent cigarette and stamped it out with the toe of his shoe before he continued. The farmer turned back in his direction. “I was just curious… do you remember what happened a couple of weeks ago? The night that… thing… flew over Pelican Town?” The farmer’s eyes narrowed and they nodded slowly. “That was the night that strange egg just showed up in your chicken coop, right?” The farmer looked bewildered. Seb chuckled soundlessly when he realized that, for at least a moment, he was acting like the epitome of some small town country boy who was nosing into someone else’s business. The farmer was likely confused because they hadn’t spoken to Sebastian about it directly. How could he know about that? They didn’t have to ask before he preemptively put the question to rest. “I was in the saloon playing pool with Sam the night after it happened. I overheard you talking about it with Gus, Willy and uh- …Rapunzel.” He explained. A tiny snort escaped the farmer’s nose as they stifled a laugh and they nodded again.
“Right… I still don’t know where it came from.” They rested the handle of the fishing pole on the dock like a staff or walking stick and looked up at the sky as if they were contemplating something. “I don’t know if the egg had anything to do with the flying figure, or if it was just a coincidence… they did both appear on the same night.”
“Everyone in town says that the flying thing was probably just some weird bird heading toward the islands…” Seb droned. He shoved his hands into his pockets to sooth the chill in his fingers. “If that IS where the egg came from, then maybe it was just a bird…” The farmer briskly shook their head before they answered.
“No, I don’t think so.” They rested a hand on their hip, fidgeted with the line strung through the fishing rod and seemed to gaze off into the distance towards the island in question. “That wouldn’t make sense considering what hatched.” Sebastian’s head snapped upright to meet their gaze. Now this was getting interesting.
“It actually hatched?!” He piped as his eyes widened inquisitively. “What was it?”
“A chicken…. And those can’t fly long distances.” The farmer chortled as they watched Sebastian’s face droop back to some semblance of apathy. He looked mildly disappointed.
“Aww…. Well that’s kind of anticlimactic.” He groaned.
“Yeah, sorry it’s not more exciting than that…” There was a sudden gust of wind and both of them had to brace against the pelting of raindrops that came with it. “It is a pretty peculiar looking chicken, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Really?... How so?” He gazed back at them expectantly and waited for them to go into detail.
“The feathers are jet black and the comb and wattles have a bit of an odd shape to them. The eyes are also bright red, like an animal with albinism and they’re almost reflective in the dark too… like a cat’s eyes.” They paused and rested their hand over the lower half of their face as if they were taking a moment to recall more of the specifics to memory. “And there’s just something about the way it clucks.” They added. “It doesn’t really cluck like a normal hen, but it sounds more like… an echo of a cluck, I suppose.”
“What?....” Sebastian laughed as his expression shifted again. The description of the noise sounded completely ridiculous. Not a cluck, but an echo of a cluck? They may as well have likened it to a phantom voice or the cry of a specter. Something that eluded the range of sounds that most humans would ever have the chance or perception to experience. The farmer lifted their eyes back to Sebastian’s as if they’d suddenly remembered something else.
“She started laying eggs a couple of days ago. They look just like the one that appeared in the coop that night…” They let the fishing pole drop from their hand to the wood planking of the dock and slipped their arm out of the left strap of their backpack. “I actually have one with me if you want to see it….” They slid the other strap off of their shoulder and swung the bag around their right side, letting it come to a rest in front of them as they knelt down. Seb took a few steps closer and stooped to get a better look as they dug through the contents.
They gingerly grasped what looked like a tiny bundle wrapped in a kerchief and began to slowly peel away the corners of the fabric, exposing what was probably the most bizarre looking egg he’d ever seen in his life. It was black and somewhat glossy, unlike the calcified matte shells of most chicken eggs, and the surface seemed to be covered in tiny indents or fissures that exposed flecks of a bright, almost luminescent red underneath. The farmer held the egg out to Sebastian as they stood up straight and nodded, silently offering to let him hold it for a closer look. He gently cupped the egg in his hands, tucked his arms in close to his body and cradled it in his palms like a cautious child trying to hold a hamster. It was heavier than he’d expected it to be, and surprisingly warm.
The color reminded him of magma or hot coals. Something like the intense heat glowing through crackling obsidian after a volcanic eruption or a dying fire. He leaned his head even closer to the egg as he examined the texture of the shell, and his nose wrinkled a bit when he caught the scent. It was sulphurous, and almost earthy smelling, but not overpoweringly so.
“It’s not rotten, is it?” he asked as he gently turned the egg over in his hands.
“See, that’s the strange thing about it. It can’t be…. That egg was just laid this morning.” They explained. “All of the eggs that hen lays have that… little whiff of something burning to them.” The rain was starting to slow up a bit. The farmer thought for a moment and giggled at the notion of what they said next. “I’m not inclined to say that they’re edible either… at least, not to people, and I wouldn’t be keen on being the first one to test that.” Sebastian winced at the thought…and smell, and stifled a laugh.
“Me neither…” He smiled softly when the red speckled pattern caught his attention again. “It does look really cool though!”
He really did have a nice smile. It was kind of a shame that he didn’t let people see it more often. His eyes brightened, and his face looked softer and more approachable, yet also, inquisitive and curious. It was a look of fascination and wonder. Like a kid who’d just discovered dinosaurs and outer space for the first time, or someone who’d just felt their first taste of freedom and didn’t quite know what to do with it. An imaginative or inspired sort of expression.
“Since you like it so much, why don’t you hang onto it?” the farmer beamed.
“Can I?” Sebastian’s eyes lit up again and he gazed back at the farmer with a delighted look on his face.
“Sure! Hens lay eggs every day or so. There’ll be more before long!” they chimed. Sebastian chuckled as he curled his fingers about the egg and sheltered it from the rain.
“Thank you!” He gazed at it for a few moments more as the farmer hefted the rucksack back onto their shoulders and pulled the fishing rod from it’s resting place on the dock. “Hey, this might sound kind of stupid….” He began as he gazed back and forth between the farmer and his new prize… “But, do you think it’ll hatch if I put it under my pillow?” he laughed awkwardly at his own question when he realized how foolish it must have sounded, but was pleasantly surprised when the farmer’s response was more optimistic than he had expected.
“Umm, I don’t know… Maybe! It’s worth a try anyway, and stranger things have happened.”
“Only one way to find out I guess!” Sebastian said smiling in anticipation.
“Good luck! You’ll have to let me know what happens!” They scanned out over the tides as if looking for something before turning back to Sebastian. “I should hurry and find a spot to fish before the rain stops again, but it was really nice talking to you!”
“Yeah, you too!” Seb agreed. “I’ll see you later!” He distracted himself for a moment, making sure the egg was tucked away safe and warm in his hoodie pocket, when he suddenly realized something. “Hey, wait!...” he quickly turned back to where the farmer had been standing just a minute before, but by the time he’d remembered what he’d needed to ask, they’d already trotted too far out of earshot to be able to hear him. “Aw, man… I forgot to catch their name again.” He lamented. “I’ll have to remember to ask them next time… Next time for sure.”

My wife's parents are about to immigrate to live with us permanently and it is stressing her out where she is crying multiple times a day. She is pregnant and this stress is not good for her. I am not sure what i can do in this situation.
So the background is my wife and her mother's relationship has been rocky for many reasons. She immigrated after we got married and as soon as she got naturalized her mother started pressurizing her to apply for her immigration especially during the time we were struggling because of our own issues. My wife came from toxic and full of drama household and she had severe effect on her because of upbringing in that atmosphere (she is in therapy). Following are my wife's concern:

1. Privacy: We both have been living alone since we got married and enjoy our privacy and independence. After her mom gets here to live with us permanently we will no longer have that. It's not that we will have a new person to live with its also the drama that comes with it. Her mom is always on the phone and there are several groups in which mother and daughters( my wife's sisters) are talking and sending voice notes to each other. Now what happens in our home e.g.what was in breakfast to what our kid was doing will be broadcasted to everyone back home. Those groups are drama.
2. Drama: My Wife is a career woman and extremely busy, a lot of times she doesn't have time to respond. If something happens on the group and my wife doesn't responds her mom will reach out to her personally and interrogates her on why she didn't like so n so's picture or why didn't give her input etc which annoys the hell out of her.
3. My wife feels used: As soon as she became citizen, her mother and sisters started pushing her to apply for mother's immigration which she did under pressure. Day and night they will message her to ask if she applied or not. She wanted to apply for her on her own but the way they pushed her, it kind of took away her choice of doing in her own will which made her resentful.
4. Lack of support and selfishness: my wife has told me multiple times over the year that her mom doesn't care about her and only reach out when she needs something and never ask about her when she calls especially when she needed support. Now as her interview date is near my wife is messaged day and night regarding interview. Its true that they rarely ask about her which she is feeling even more since she is pregnant.
5. For some reason my MIL is obsessed over coming to our country. I can't say for sure but it may have played a huge role in our arranged marriage as well. It irritates my wife that it's all her mother can think and talk about. It makes her more sad when she compares her with my parents whom i have begged to come and visit but they declined. She has told me,"look at your parents and here is my mother desperate to just come".
6. Lying: lying is one of the biggest trait of toxicity that i have seen in my wife's family. I know i have been lied to my face with such confidence when i knew the truth already. Lying and downplaying something is a normal practice which also drives me nuts especially when they question your intelligence with their lying. It took a while for my wife to get rid of that trait. We are scared of all that lying.
7. Finances: my wife gave the letter of support and one of the requirement is to give our tax returns and other sensitive financial information to my MIL for interview. It has made us extremely uncomfortable especially we know whatever the MIL knows wife's sisters also know. But she has been messaged day and night in to why she has still not send those documents to her. We tried to reach out the embassy but they said those docents with applicant are needed and there is no way around it. The last thing we wanted my in laws to know was how much money we make. Also my wife never understood what LOS meant until i explained her today that it means we are responsible for that person financially until they become citizen. If they accrued hospital bill or any other charges we will have to pay for it. It made her even more stressed that what a huge responsibility it is.
8. Communication: my wife has always struggled with communication and the only way she communicate is when she blows up with full of emotions. I have asked her to discuss with her mother boundaries especially sharing our home matters with outside person. She is stressed and also discussed with her therapist that how she can have this conversation. I know she would rather avoid a conversation but boundaries are extremely important for us. She is dreading the conversation and it is stressing her out. As she is stressed out, i have been trying to help her focus on the positives instead of negatives like it's good to have another person who can help us especially when my wife goes in labor. I am also telling her that it's not a big deal and she should not overthink things and everything will be fine in the end but her stress is stressing me out as well. My wife continues to have meltdowns and regret applying for her parents but i don't think there is anything she can do at this point if she wants to continue to have parents and siblings. I ask for duas for my wife and others who had these kind of parents please tell me it's going to be fine and she is overreacting.

Edit: I will never tell my wife her parents cannot come over and live with us, it has to be solely her decision. If she makes that decision, i will 100% support her. I know my wife and she is feeling overwhelmed right now but the minute i tell her, she can't bring her mother she will flip. A year ago when we got to know that her parents got approved i told her things that will have to change, she got upset with me that i am a Debbie downer why i can't focus on positives etc. i was like fine i am going to stay out of it and you can deal with the situation. My wife is emotional roller coaster. Right now she is overwhelmed, it doesn't mean she doesn't want her parents to come at all. She just doesn't want them to come right now. It all depends on whats going on with her and her family in that point in time. Tomorrow her mother will show care and love and she will melt and forget everything and i will be the bad guy. I am a neutral party in this.
I am an immigrant myself and if i didn't have my extended family support when i immigrated i would have never survived in US.
To me family is above everything. If my parents decide to come and live with us i will always welcome them. My biggest regret in life is not able to take care of them in their old age. I extend same support to my wife as a daughter. It will be her decision in the end.
The only requirement i have for my wife is to have conversation with her parents regarding boundary and expectation. Even though it is immigration i know for sure their time here is not going to be as fun as they think. We both are extremely busy people between work, home and children. Their inability to speak the language and not able to leave the house is going to drive them nuts here. I just want my wife to let them know before hand what to expect when they get here. The problem is my wife dread serious conversation. She is not a good communicator and she knows this but one cannot live life without having uncomfortable communication.