Deceased father poems for anniversarys
Ilikthebredripinstead
2020.07.09 00:29 wendeezy4sheezy Ilikthebredripinstead
This is a community to post/request poems for their deceased animal friends. We are here to honor and support those who have loved and lost an important part of themselves, a dear friend.
2013.05.21 04:50 BrotherDionysus A place for the discussion of Arthurian WorldBuilding
A world building sub for artists, writers, gamemasters, musicians, programmers, philosophers and scientists interested in creating settings around the legends of King Arthur and his knight.
2022.07.27 04:39 GloriousAqua Pantheon
Subreddit for Prime Video series 'Pantheon' created for television by Craig Silverstein based on the short stories by Ken Liu and starring Katie Chang and Paul Dano.
2024.06.02 06:04 shawtey_ La Crosse, WI John Doe (2023)
 | On June 20, 2023, the partial skeletal remains of a Caucasian boy were found in a slough adjacent to the Mississippi River in La Crosse, WI. This month, the 1-year anniversary of this discovery will pass with no clues pointing to his identity, and not even one MP exclusion. submitted by shawtey_ to gratefuldoe [link] [comments] Mississippi River deaths in the area are often alcohol related accidents involving students who attend college in the city. La Crosse is home to about 50,000 residents. The town is on the border between Wisconsin and Minnesota. Between 1997 and 2017, 11 men were found deceased in the Mississippi River near La Crosse. La Crosse County Sheriff’s Office has stated that the decedent was likely hunting before his death. It's unknown what might have led to this conclusion. He could have washed up from a back water or tributary. Two fishermen discovered his left femur and torso. The clothing that he was wearing had "disintegrated." The following were recovered on the body: a black belt, Mossy Oak underwear, and "fabric remains of blue jeans present on pelvic region." The jeans were from the brand Decree, in size 30x32. A ring with a unique design was found in his pants pocket. Upon examination, it' was hypothesized that his body had made its way through a lock and a dam upriver, and had been in the water for a long time. The young man is estimated to have been between the ages of 15-25 at the time of his death. Investigators believe he was on the younger end of that range. It was also estimated that he died 5 years prior, give or take. There's a stronger possibility that he had been deceased for less time. He stood somewhere between 5'1-5'11. The most recent article about John Doe was written in October 2023. By then, his remains had been sent for DNA testing. As of the time I am writing this, it's unknown if results have come back, or whether a DNA profile could even be created for him. Although it's somewhat established that the young man died around 2018, I would like to note a fact that eliminates the possibility of his death occurring sooner. Decree, the brand his jeans were from, is JCPenney exclusive. Its denim products for men were introduced in late 2016, so he could not have been deceased before then. Logically, from how far North from La Crosse could the decedent's body travelled after his death? Does anybody recognize his ring? Close-up of ring found with decedent. \"CJ Titanium\" inscribed on inside Higher quality photo of a similar ring https://www.news8000.com/news/crime/la-crosse-co-sheriff-human-remains-found-in-mississippi-rivearticle_44aa63b4-108a-11ee-b8a1-df293f281018.html https://www.wxow.com/news/whos-ring-is-this-it-may-help-identify-body-found-in-rivearticle_4ae3364c-736e-11ee-b201-8bf3a9fd141c.html La Crosse John Doe (2023) on NAMUS WebSleuths discussion page for La Crosse, WI John Doe (2023) La Crosse John Doe (2023) on Unidentified Wiki) (note: the infobox on this page erroneously states he was found in Michigan) |
2024.06.02 06:00 Choice_Evidence1983 WIBTA if I refuse to have intimacy with my husband?
I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/cherry_muffin_no7
Originally posted to AITA_WIBTA_PUBLIC
WIBTA if I refuse to have intimacy with my husband?
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Editor’s Note: added paragraph breaks for readability
Trigger Warnings: infidelity, car accident, body injuries, mentions of death of loved one, manipulation
Original Post: May 25, 2024
I won't sugarcoat any words here or make the situation in my favour. I need a very non biased opinion.
Around Mid August of 2019, Me (28F) and My husband (35M) tied a knot between us. He have two kids from his previous marriage. He and his ex wife are co-parenting their kids. I really love the kids.
One of the major factors why I got married with him was kids. I have reasons for that. My father died when I was 15. My mom wasn't so highly educated, so with that less education qualification, she couldn't provide for me and my other 3 younger brothers all alone. So I started to do part time jobs. I babysat, cleaned people's yard, took out pet's for walk, did assignments of my classmates etc. I earned really little amount of money with that but it helped my family slightest. When I was 17, I took a food delivery job.
One night, around 10-11 I was dropping food at the other side of city. A drunk driver hit my cycle and I went into a terrible accident. The driver needed to pay a large fine for that since my condition was very critical. I had alot internal bleeding and damage. So because of that accident, my doctor confirmed that in future the chances of me getting pregnant is very less, it will be a miracle for me to have my own kid. I was at the lowest part of my life because of that accident. I couldn't go out or do my work on my own. My family took care of me. It took me around 8 months to get well.
At first I didn't mind having a childless life but when I started to notice my friends are having family, I realised the beauty of motherhood. So I started dating guys with kids. My husband was my second bf. We tied knot after we dated for 10 months. When I got married his son was 11 and his daughter was 7. I got along with them well. It took them few months before they started to call me mama by their own. I left my job to be the stay at home mom for them, honestly I really adore them. I have a good relationship with their bio mom too.
After COVID, we went to Belgium for our 2nd anniversary on 2021. The trip was all good and I remember feeling so loved. The day before we were supposed to come back in our home, he proposed the idea of opening our marriage. If I say I was hurt it'll be a understatement. I couldn't look in his eyes without feeling hollow and sorrow. I said no multiple times after coming back from the trip but he kept persisting.
After couple of weeks I gave up and agreed. He set the terms. I don't remember most of it but few of his terms was never share this information with others, we can't date our exes or friends, no emotional attachment with our partners and always use protection.
In his words, he still loves me. He only opened the marriage because he wanted to gain experience and use it on our marriage. I remember going to sleep all crying and hurt. I gave up on my job to take care of him and the kids yet he yearned for another woman. We became distant. He noticed that and tried to initiate intimacy with me but I don't feel anything at all. I just lay there until he is done. I also distanced myself from him.
The idea of him having intimacy with other woman while being in a marriage with me disgusted me. I couldn't look at him at the same way I used to. We always have our location on so I could see where he is going. Those used to hurt me alot untill I became completely numb at this point. Now I don't see him as my husband but someone I tied knots with to be a mother.
Last year, I told him I wanna start work again. He got defensive kinda? He tried to use alot reasons to show why can't I work. When he saw all of his tricks going downhill he pulled the kids in the mess. He knew I have soft spots for his kids. I didn't back down that time. He gave me cold shoulder and went on trip with one of his gf. I applied to be a teacher at my brother's high school. He is the youngest of my all siblings and a sophomore. I am teaching chemistry in his school. My husband was mad at me for having a job for few months but he gave up. I started to give myself alot times.
Since the kids have extra curriculum activities they always don't stay at home. I have a friend circle from high school. I hung out with them every two weeks. I met a guy in my workplace. He is 29 and have three kids with his late wife. One day I ranted about my whole situation. He showed interest in me after that. He is a nice guy. I went on few dates with him. Nothing physical happened between us. I think I am relying on him for mental support since he is very supportive of me. I haven't felt something like that for a long time in my life.
Now few days ago, I went to salon and cut my hair short into shoulder length. My husband complimented me multiple times that day. The kids went to their grandparent's house for summer vacation. During night, he tried to initiate intimacy. Well I straight up said no for the first time. I think he got taken aback? He had mix of few expressions that I can't put a finger on. He started to use the husband card on me and I put my foot down to say no.
We had a huge argument and he left. I saw his location, he went to one of his girlfriend's place. He didn't contacted me for 2 days now. Now I am stuck between two thoughts. Even if I don't feel anything towards him he is still my husband. I can't share this with anyone so I need advice on this.
Relevant Comments
RndmIntrntStranger: INFO: Is having children really worth a husband who demanded an open marriage and did not want you to have financial independence?
Update: May 26, 2024 (next day)
Last night I made a post about my current situation of my marriage and asked for a non-biased view. There almost 300 people who responded and gave me advice. I couldn't respond all of that since I was overwhelmed with alot emotions. There is few things I want to clarify.
Firstly, I met my husband after my graduation when I was looking for a job. I made things official with him after I had the job. We dated for 10 months before getting married.
Secondly, His ex wife and he were childhood sweetheart who married each other when they were in college. After the birth of their second child, they realised they don't have the same bond so they got divorced and have 50/50 custody.
Thirdly, few people in my previous post asked me to make things official with my coworker. I would do that when I am ready. Currently my mental health isn't in the best position. I am working on it. Plus I can't have intimacy with anyone whom I barely know. We've been coworkers about almost a year but still I am not ready to make things all good.
Lastly, those who are saying I am using sex as a punishment, it's quite opposite. He barely comes home. He is always out with the kids or his girlfriends. I would love to add he doesn't have one but three girlfriend and yes all of them are aware of my existence.
Now to the update.
Last night I made a post about the current situation of my marriage with my husband. Asking if i would be the AH if I refuse to have intimacy. He haven't came back in last three days or contacted me. The kids talks with me daily. I had few conversation with their bio mom too (they are over her parent's place).
Honestly I thought he will get over it or won't bother me for a long time, but I was wrong as hell. During lunch, my mom came over to visit me. she asked if everything was okay between me and my husband. I didn't lie this time and straight up said no. We had a long conversation about my marriage and I was relieved after that. It felt so good after sharing everything with her. I am not ashamed to admit I cried like a kid in her arms while explaining everything. She stayed with me entire day. She called one of my younger brother (26) and told him everything. If I say he was mad it'll be an understatement. He asked why the hell I suffered that much and scolded me for couple of minutes. With the help of my mom and brother I packed my stuffs. I didn't leave with any of the stuffs he got me.
Most likely we will get a divorce soon. I texted a short message in his number, thanking him for being my husband and I won't be continuing the marriage anymore along with some personal stuffs between us. With the help of my friend and family currently I am finding a lawyer. I don't know how long it'll take me to finally get out of the marriage. I left the house around evening and sent the sms around 7. After that I muted his number.
I also told his ex wife about this and needless to say she was as much shocked as everyone. Because he wasn't like that. She assured me that even after divorce she will let me see the kids. I am really grateful for that part. Divorcing him will be easy since we always had separate accounts. I have little savings.
Before I get on my own feet properly I will be staying with my mom in our old house. I turned off my location before leaving his house but it won't be long untill he figures out where am I. He is currently messaging me but I am not strong enough to open them and read them so I haven't responded or read his sms
Relevant Comments
chimera4n: Well done! If he gets upset, just remind him that he was the one who ruined the marriage by cheating.
I say cheating, because an open marriage only works if both partners are willing, a one sided open marriage is just cheating.
Bitter-Picture5394: Good for you. You deserve a life where you are respected and your feelings validated. You will find true happiness as long as you keep advocating for yourself.
submitted by Choice_Evidence1983 to BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
Originally posted to AITA_WIBTA_PUBLIC
WIBTA if I refuse to have intimacy with my husband?
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Editor’s Note: added paragraph breaks for readability
Trigger Warnings: infidelity, car accident, body injuries, mentions of death of loved one, manipulation
I won't sugarcoat any words here or make the situation in my favour. I need a very non biased opinion.
Around Mid August of 2019, Me (28F) and My husband (35M) tied a knot between us. He have two kids from his previous marriage. He and his ex wife are co-parenting their kids. I really love the kids.
One of the major factors why I got married with him was kids. I have reasons for that. My father died when I was 15. My mom wasn't so highly educated, so with that less education qualification, she couldn't provide for me and my other 3 younger brothers all alone. So I started to do part time jobs. I babysat, cleaned people's yard, took out pet's for walk, did assignments of my classmates etc. I earned really little amount of money with that but it helped my family slightest. When I was 17, I took a food delivery job.
One night, around 10-11 I was dropping food at the other side of city. A drunk driver hit my cycle and I went into a terrible accident. The driver needed to pay a large fine for that since my condition was very critical. I had alot internal bleeding and damage. So because of that accident, my doctor confirmed that in future the chances of me getting pregnant is very less, it will be a miracle for me to have my own kid. I was at the lowest part of my life because of that accident. I couldn't go out or do my work on my own. My family took care of me. It took me around 8 months to get well.
At first I didn't mind having a childless life but when I started to notice my friends are having family, I realised the beauty of motherhood. So I started dating guys with kids. My husband was my second bf. We tied knot after we dated for 10 months. When I got married his son was 11 and his daughter was 7. I got along with them well. It took them few months before they started to call me mama by their own. I left my job to be the stay at home mom for them, honestly I really adore them. I have a good relationship with their bio mom too.
After COVID, we went to Belgium for our 2nd anniversary on 2021. The trip was all good and I remember feeling so loved. The day before we were supposed to come back in our home, he proposed the idea of opening our marriage. If I say I was hurt it'll be a understatement. I couldn't look in his eyes without feeling hollow and sorrow. I said no multiple times after coming back from the trip but he kept persisting.
After couple of weeks I gave up and agreed. He set the terms. I don't remember most of it but few of his terms was never share this information with others, we can't date our exes or friends, no emotional attachment with our partners and always use protection.
In his words, he still loves me. He only opened the marriage because he wanted to gain experience and use it on our marriage. I remember going to sleep all crying and hurt. I gave up on my job to take care of him and the kids yet he yearned for another woman. We became distant. He noticed that and tried to initiate intimacy with me but I don't feel anything at all. I just lay there until he is done. I also distanced myself from him.
The idea of him having intimacy with other woman while being in a marriage with me disgusted me. I couldn't look at him at the same way I used to. We always have our location on so I could see where he is going. Those used to hurt me alot untill I became completely numb at this point. Now I don't see him as my husband but someone I tied knots with to be a mother.
Last year, I told him I wanna start work again. He got defensive kinda? He tried to use alot reasons to show why can't I work. When he saw all of his tricks going downhill he pulled the kids in the mess. He knew I have soft spots for his kids. I didn't back down that time. He gave me cold shoulder and went on trip with one of his gf. I applied to be a teacher at my brother's high school. He is the youngest of my all siblings and a sophomore. I am teaching chemistry in his school. My husband was mad at me for having a job for few months but he gave up. I started to give myself alot times.
Since the kids have extra curriculum activities they always don't stay at home. I have a friend circle from high school. I hung out with them every two weeks. I met a guy in my workplace. He is 29 and have three kids with his late wife. One day I ranted about my whole situation. He showed interest in me after that. He is a nice guy. I went on few dates with him. Nothing physical happened between us. I think I am relying on him for mental support since he is very supportive of me. I haven't felt something like that for a long time in my life.
Now few days ago, I went to salon and cut my hair short into shoulder length. My husband complimented me multiple times that day. The kids went to their grandparent's house for summer vacation. During night, he tried to initiate intimacy. Well I straight up said no for the first time. I think he got taken aback? He had mix of few expressions that I can't put a finger on. He started to use the husband card on me and I put my foot down to say no.
We had a huge argument and he left. I saw his location, he went to one of his girlfriend's place. He didn't contacted me for 2 days now. Now I am stuck between two thoughts. Even if I don't feel anything towards him he is still my husband. I can't share this with anyone so I need advice on this.
Relevant Comments
RndmIntrntStranger: INFO: Is having children really worth a husband who demanded an open marriage and did not want you to have financial independence?
OOP: He wasn't like that from the early days. After COVID I noticed some changes but didn't pay any attention on that. That time all I wanted was to have a child to raise like my own. Before him I dated another guy with a kid, he was nice but he had alot issues. Plus I resigned from my previous workplace with my own thoughts. I really wanted to devote myself in the kid's life. It was a mistake but now I have a job which pays me double amount than before. I still love the kids, they are all I could ask in a kid.Significant-Dot-2260: Girl, the marriage was over when he proposed an open marriage. Just divorce, love yourself more. A man who truly loves his life doesn't go outside the marriage for anything. Your husband just wants a stable life at home and someone to watch his kids when they're there, and all his fun with another woman. He's selfish, get some therapy, divorce, and live your life, and once you heal yourself, you'll be blessed with a man who truly loves only you. Don't waste anymore time and tears on that man
Update: May 26, 2024 (next day)
Last night I made a post about my current situation of my marriage and asked for a non-biased view. There almost 300 people who responded and gave me advice. I couldn't respond all of that since I was overwhelmed with alot emotions. There is few things I want to clarify.
Firstly, I met my husband after my graduation when I was looking for a job. I made things official with him after I had the job. We dated for 10 months before getting married.
Secondly, His ex wife and he were childhood sweetheart who married each other when they were in college. After the birth of their second child, they realised they don't have the same bond so they got divorced and have 50/50 custody.
Thirdly, few people in my previous post asked me to make things official with my coworker. I would do that when I am ready. Currently my mental health isn't in the best position. I am working on it. Plus I can't have intimacy with anyone whom I barely know. We've been coworkers about almost a year but still I am not ready to make things all good.
Lastly, those who are saying I am using sex as a punishment, it's quite opposite. He barely comes home. He is always out with the kids or his girlfriends. I would love to add he doesn't have one but three girlfriend and yes all of them are aware of my existence.
Now to the update.
Last night I made a post about the current situation of my marriage with my husband. Asking if i would be the AH if I refuse to have intimacy. He haven't came back in last three days or contacted me. The kids talks with me daily. I had few conversation with their bio mom too (they are over her parent's place).
Honestly I thought he will get over it or won't bother me for a long time, but I was wrong as hell. During lunch, my mom came over to visit me. she asked if everything was okay between me and my husband. I didn't lie this time and straight up said no. We had a long conversation about my marriage and I was relieved after that. It felt so good after sharing everything with her. I am not ashamed to admit I cried like a kid in her arms while explaining everything. She stayed with me entire day. She called one of my younger brother (26) and told him everything. If I say he was mad it'll be an understatement. He asked why the hell I suffered that much and scolded me for couple of minutes. With the help of my mom and brother I packed my stuffs. I didn't leave with any of the stuffs he got me.
Most likely we will get a divorce soon. I texted a short message in his number, thanking him for being my husband and I won't be continuing the marriage anymore along with some personal stuffs between us. With the help of my friend and family currently I am finding a lawyer. I don't know how long it'll take me to finally get out of the marriage. I left the house around evening and sent the sms around 7. After that I muted his number.
I also told his ex wife about this and needless to say she was as much shocked as everyone. Because he wasn't like that. She assured me that even after divorce she will let me see the kids. I am really grateful for that part. Divorcing him will be easy since we always had separate accounts. I have little savings.
Before I get on my own feet properly I will be staying with my mom in our old house. I turned off my location before leaving his house but it won't be long untill he figures out where am I. He is currently messaging me but I am not strong enough to open them and read them so I haven't responded or read his sms
Relevant Comments
chimera4n: Well done! If he gets upset, just remind him that he was the one who ruined the marriage by cheating.
I say cheating, because an open marriage only works if both partners are willing, a one sided open marriage is just cheating.
Bitter-Picture5394: Good for you. You deserve a life where you are respected and your feelings validated. You will find true happiness as long as you keep advocating for yourself.
DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP
2024.06.02 05:57 lil_lilith13 AITAH for not telling his wife but also for not blocking him?
Please be kind as this whole situation has me kinda anxious. I feel like there's no right answer on what to do.
Minor TW for mention of SA but its not significant to the whole post.
TLDR- My ex from almost 10 years ago has been secretly stalking my Instagram account for just under 2 years. The situation gives me the ick but I also don't care enough to take the time to block him. Especially as I feel his behavior doesn't deserve my attention or acknowledgement and could just lead to bigger problems i dont need. How ever, the girls girl in me feels bad for his wife because I know she would not be happy to find this out. I wouldn't be happy if my fiance did this. Am I the asshole for not making a bigger deal out of this. For not confronting/blocking him or telling his wife.
Here's more details. The long version with the back story.
My (28F now 17/18F at time of relationship) ex fiance (21/22M At time of relationship) has been stalking me on Instagram. Our relationship started when I was a junior in High School at a local Votech. He was my shop teachers son who was paying for and taking classes as an adult for another shop along side the high school students. A special opportunity that he was presented because of his parents employment at the school. That's how we met and started dating in like April of 2013.
He was extremely toxic in our relationship (I'm not saying I'm perfect). He would constantly try to make me jealous. First by saying a girl in the shop class he was taking was constantly flirting with him. Later by telling me while working at his job (gas station convince store) women gave him their number. Even one time trying to tell me some woman messaged him asking to sleep with him. I told him it sounded like an ad from a porn site and he got extremely offended and tried to convince me it wasn't an ad but that a real woman was trying to get him to come sleep with her. Basically the whole "other women want me. You should feel lucky I only want you" behavior BS. He also refused to let me have friends. He would start fights with me almost every time I was with a friend. I'm bisexual so he assumed I would cheat on him with my girl friends. None of my friends liked him because of this.
But I was naive and thought I was in love. He proposed to me on Valentines Day 2014. I turned 18 and graduated a few months later before going to college in August 2 hours away. Things got worse between him fighting with me all the time about him being paranoid I'd cheat on him. Then him taking 2 months before visiting me only to say he was coming up for the weekend then actually only come up to visit for 2.5 hours, fuck me, eat a donut, and then decide to leave and go home. Long story short we broke up at the end of October after some toxic shit.
I quickly moved on because of some homophobic shit he said to a friend of mine causing me to lose any love or respect I had for him. His SIL messaged me after we broke up to tell me how horrible I was for breaking his heart. He had told his family we broke up because I had "cheated on him with a female and decided I'm a lesbian." I promptly told her he lied and told her what really happened including screenshots. I thought that was the end of everything. Deleted everyones number and moved on. November came and went and in December I met a different guy we can call Matt and we started dating.
After 6 months of dating Matt, my exs SIL messaged me cussing me out, insulting and threatening me. Telling me he found someone much prettier and better than me (her cousin who we had actually met at her wedding to his brother). She claimed my ex said I had been texting him gloating about my new relationship and sending him photos of Matt and I. I explained I hadn't texted my ex since the day we broke up in October and lost his number with in the same week. It was not me trying to text him. But I was genuinely concerned and wanted to know who did since I didn't want or need unnecessary drama. I offered to help find out who was doing this (though my suspicion told me it was him using a text app on his iPod Touch to text himself and the photo that was sent was one of my public FB Profile pictures since as I said above he tried similar to make me jealous before when I was his GF so it would not shock me if he did it to the new girl too). Unsurprisingly when I asked for the number that texted him this stuff he conveniently deleted it and didn't know the number. But I was told if they texted again the SIL would tell me the number. They never texted again. That was in 2015. I hadn't thought about them since.
Until this past December 2023.
I was on Instagram looking through stories. Instagram showed me a "People you may know" story with a few accounts it thought I may want to follow. The first one showed my Exs account, his picture of him and his wife (the SILs Cousin). This weirded me out because we've been broken up for 9 years at this point. We don't have mutual friends or social circles. He shouldn't be in my "people you may know". But then I saw it specifically said "Follow BACK" indicating he was following me. Which is why it showed me his account. I was so confused because I would have noticed if my ex had shown up in my notifications.
I went to his profile and I actually did recognize the username. And was able to check when he had followed me. He followed me in August of 2022. But he didn't have a PFP or any post then. I didn't realize it was my ex because even though the username included his first name it had been so long that I didn't even think it was him. The only reason why I remembered the account even following me is because it includes his middle name (that I forgot was his middle name at this time) and that middle name is the same first name as the man who assaulted me in 2017. So I was afraid the account was my rapists Instagram but realized I was being paranoid and that he was still in jail at that time so it couldn't have been him. A lot of random accounts follow me on Instagram because my account is public.
Anyway, he followed me in August of 2022 and never had a PFP or any post until November of 2023 which is why I had no idea he was following me and why he showed up in December as someone I may know (because he was active on Instagram then and recently made his first post). I know he sees my post because he only follows 9 accounts, me, a few shops, and model accounts.
What had me the most weirded out by this is that in the 9 years we were broken up I never saw him or ran into him. But in the time between August 22 and November 23, he showed up at the mall at the same time as me. More than likely a coincidence. But it was still weird. I considered blocking him but both my fiance and best friend told me not to worry about it unless he does keep showing up places. Because otherwise I'm just giving him a response to his behavior and he isn't worth that.
Some may say not blocking him means I'm trying to rub my relationship and family (I have a toddler and another baby on the way and I'm getting married this year too) in his face. But I'm not forcing him to look. I'm not posting anything with him in mind. And it's not my responsibility to help him move on. If he wants to look through my photos, as long as it doesn't actually affect or hurt me, I honestly could care less.
So I let it go. And honestly forgot about it until this week. While driving to my OB appointment I got a notification that my Exs account liked one of my photos on Instagram. When I saw this later at my appointment I did take a screenshot and then clicked the notification to see what it was. This wasn't a recent photo. It was a photo from 2015. Instagram showed he had unliked it, indicating he didn't mean to and was probably hoping I wouldn't see that he did in the first place. But what was weird to me about this was that he had to scroll through over 1,000 photos on my Instagram to get to and accidentally like this one from 9 years ago. So like this wasn't a casual just keeping tabs on how my ex is doing these days. He was scrolling through over 1,000 photos I've posted.
I once again considered blocking him but my friend made a good point that he followed me undetected before for over a year. He could make a new account and follow me again undetected. At least right now I am able to document anything that happens incase things were to escalate. And that not warranting the behavior with acknowledgement or a response is best. As it's highly unlikely this will go beyond him looking at my Instagram. I didn't post i was going to the mall the two times he was also there. And I don't share my location on any other social media apps. So it truly was more than likely a weird coincidence. So I'm just documenting everything incase it does escalate OR incase he tries something again like mentioned above and I get threatening messages from his family.
This is the part that's eating me up. His wife knows who I am. As I said I met her when his brother and her cousin got married. We were both in her bridal party. She's had me blocked on Facebook since the situation were her cousin messaged me about someone texting him thinking it was me. She was also with him at the mall the second time he was coincidentally there and she definitely saw me which was in itself an embarrassing encounter (because I had just bought my fiance a father's day gift but they couldn't remove the security tag from it so as I exited the store the alarm sounds like I'm robbing the place armed and they were in the food court right by the entrance and all this attention was on me, I went back to the counter but they told me they couldnt remove the tag so I had to let the alarm go off as I leave and it will turn off after a moment). I heard her even say "isn't that [my name]?" Anyway, I know she probably would not be happy to know he's following me. I looked her up on Instagram, she doesn't post often but most recently posted on Valentines Day about their 5 year wedding anniversary. But I don't think she knows he has an Instagram. She only follows a few accounts, including her cousin mentioned above. But neither of them follow her husband, my ex. And he doesn't follow any of them either.
Idk, maybe it's just me. But I would be livid to find out my fiance/husband had an Instagram where he didn't follow me but did follow his ex. I honestly feel bad for her because I know it would hurt me. But I also don't know if she truly has no idea. I asked my friend if I should say something to her but my friend said I'd just be opening myself up to unnecessary drama and stirring a pot that doesn't need to be stirred. Unless things escalate. That it would be wrong to potentially cause issues in their relationships over what could be innocent curiosity.
Idk. Maybe I'm over thinking things as I am hormonal as I'm 7 months pregnant. But I feel bad not telling her. And I also don't want to block him because at least now I know and can be aware of what's happening. Since he doesn't know I know at this time. I guess it's important to mention I have diagnosed ptsd from multiple things including abusive partners and had an ex stalk me previously. So being able to document things makes me feel calm and more in control of the situation. As finding out he was following me unnoticed for over a year was extremely triggering and as I said before blocking him could result in him just making another fake account.
submitted by lil_lilith13 to AITAH [link] [comments]
Minor TW for mention of SA but its not significant to the whole post.
TLDR- My ex from almost 10 years ago has been secretly stalking my Instagram account for just under 2 years. The situation gives me the ick but I also don't care enough to take the time to block him. Especially as I feel his behavior doesn't deserve my attention or acknowledgement and could just lead to bigger problems i dont need. How ever, the girls girl in me feels bad for his wife because I know she would not be happy to find this out. I wouldn't be happy if my fiance did this. Am I the asshole for not making a bigger deal out of this. For not confronting/blocking him or telling his wife.
Here's more details. The long version with the back story.
My (28F now 17/18F at time of relationship) ex fiance (21/22M At time of relationship) has been stalking me on Instagram. Our relationship started when I was a junior in High School at a local Votech. He was my shop teachers son who was paying for and taking classes as an adult for another shop along side the high school students. A special opportunity that he was presented because of his parents employment at the school. That's how we met and started dating in like April of 2013.
He was extremely toxic in our relationship (I'm not saying I'm perfect). He would constantly try to make me jealous. First by saying a girl in the shop class he was taking was constantly flirting with him. Later by telling me while working at his job (gas station convince store) women gave him their number. Even one time trying to tell me some woman messaged him asking to sleep with him. I told him it sounded like an ad from a porn site and he got extremely offended and tried to convince me it wasn't an ad but that a real woman was trying to get him to come sleep with her. Basically the whole "other women want me. You should feel lucky I only want you" behavior BS. He also refused to let me have friends. He would start fights with me almost every time I was with a friend. I'm bisexual so he assumed I would cheat on him with my girl friends. None of my friends liked him because of this.
But I was naive and thought I was in love. He proposed to me on Valentines Day 2014. I turned 18 and graduated a few months later before going to college in August 2 hours away. Things got worse between him fighting with me all the time about him being paranoid I'd cheat on him. Then him taking 2 months before visiting me only to say he was coming up for the weekend then actually only come up to visit for 2.5 hours, fuck me, eat a donut, and then decide to leave and go home. Long story short we broke up at the end of October after some toxic shit.
I quickly moved on because of some homophobic shit he said to a friend of mine causing me to lose any love or respect I had for him. His SIL messaged me after we broke up to tell me how horrible I was for breaking his heart. He had told his family we broke up because I had "cheated on him with a female and decided I'm a lesbian." I promptly told her he lied and told her what really happened including screenshots. I thought that was the end of everything. Deleted everyones number and moved on. November came and went and in December I met a different guy we can call Matt and we started dating.
After 6 months of dating Matt, my exs SIL messaged me cussing me out, insulting and threatening me. Telling me he found someone much prettier and better than me (her cousin who we had actually met at her wedding to his brother). She claimed my ex said I had been texting him gloating about my new relationship and sending him photos of Matt and I. I explained I hadn't texted my ex since the day we broke up in October and lost his number with in the same week. It was not me trying to text him. But I was genuinely concerned and wanted to know who did since I didn't want or need unnecessary drama. I offered to help find out who was doing this (though my suspicion told me it was him using a text app on his iPod Touch to text himself and the photo that was sent was one of my public FB Profile pictures since as I said above he tried similar to make me jealous before when I was his GF so it would not shock me if he did it to the new girl too). Unsurprisingly when I asked for the number that texted him this stuff he conveniently deleted it and didn't know the number. But I was told if they texted again the SIL would tell me the number. They never texted again. That was in 2015. I hadn't thought about them since.
Until this past December 2023.
I was on Instagram looking through stories. Instagram showed me a "People you may know" story with a few accounts it thought I may want to follow. The first one showed my Exs account, his picture of him and his wife (the SILs Cousin). This weirded me out because we've been broken up for 9 years at this point. We don't have mutual friends or social circles. He shouldn't be in my "people you may know". But then I saw it specifically said "Follow BACK" indicating he was following me. Which is why it showed me his account. I was so confused because I would have noticed if my ex had shown up in my notifications.
I went to his profile and I actually did recognize the username. And was able to check when he had followed me. He followed me in August of 2022. But he didn't have a PFP or any post then. I didn't realize it was my ex because even though the username included his first name it had been so long that I didn't even think it was him. The only reason why I remembered the account even following me is because it includes his middle name (that I forgot was his middle name at this time) and that middle name is the same first name as the man who assaulted me in 2017. So I was afraid the account was my rapists Instagram but realized I was being paranoid and that he was still in jail at that time so it couldn't have been him. A lot of random accounts follow me on Instagram because my account is public.
Anyway, he followed me in August of 2022 and never had a PFP or any post until November of 2023 which is why I had no idea he was following me and why he showed up in December as someone I may know (because he was active on Instagram then and recently made his first post). I know he sees my post because he only follows 9 accounts, me, a few shops, and model accounts.
What had me the most weirded out by this is that in the 9 years we were broken up I never saw him or ran into him. But in the time between August 22 and November 23, he showed up at the mall at the same time as me. More than likely a coincidence. But it was still weird. I considered blocking him but both my fiance and best friend told me not to worry about it unless he does keep showing up places. Because otherwise I'm just giving him a response to his behavior and he isn't worth that.
Some may say not blocking him means I'm trying to rub my relationship and family (I have a toddler and another baby on the way and I'm getting married this year too) in his face. But I'm not forcing him to look. I'm not posting anything with him in mind. And it's not my responsibility to help him move on. If he wants to look through my photos, as long as it doesn't actually affect or hurt me, I honestly could care less.
So I let it go. And honestly forgot about it until this week. While driving to my OB appointment I got a notification that my Exs account liked one of my photos on Instagram. When I saw this later at my appointment I did take a screenshot and then clicked the notification to see what it was. This wasn't a recent photo. It was a photo from 2015. Instagram showed he had unliked it, indicating he didn't mean to and was probably hoping I wouldn't see that he did in the first place. But what was weird to me about this was that he had to scroll through over 1,000 photos on my Instagram to get to and accidentally like this one from 9 years ago. So like this wasn't a casual just keeping tabs on how my ex is doing these days. He was scrolling through over 1,000 photos I've posted.
I once again considered blocking him but my friend made a good point that he followed me undetected before for over a year. He could make a new account and follow me again undetected. At least right now I am able to document anything that happens incase things were to escalate. And that not warranting the behavior with acknowledgement or a response is best. As it's highly unlikely this will go beyond him looking at my Instagram. I didn't post i was going to the mall the two times he was also there. And I don't share my location on any other social media apps. So it truly was more than likely a weird coincidence. So I'm just documenting everything incase it does escalate OR incase he tries something again like mentioned above and I get threatening messages from his family.
This is the part that's eating me up. His wife knows who I am. As I said I met her when his brother and her cousin got married. We were both in her bridal party. She's had me blocked on Facebook since the situation were her cousin messaged me about someone texting him thinking it was me. She was also with him at the mall the second time he was coincidentally there and she definitely saw me which was in itself an embarrassing encounter (because I had just bought my fiance a father's day gift but they couldn't remove the security tag from it so as I exited the store the alarm sounds like I'm robbing the place armed and they were in the food court right by the entrance and all this attention was on me, I went back to the counter but they told me they couldnt remove the tag so I had to let the alarm go off as I leave and it will turn off after a moment). I heard her even say "isn't that [my name]?" Anyway, I know she probably would not be happy to know he's following me. I looked her up on Instagram, she doesn't post often but most recently posted on Valentines Day about their 5 year wedding anniversary. But I don't think she knows he has an Instagram. She only follows a few accounts, including her cousin mentioned above. But neither of them follow her husband, my ex. And he doesn't follow any of them either.
Idk, maybe it's just me. But I would be livid to find out my fiance/husband had an Instagram where he didn't follow me but did follow his ex. I honestly feel bad for her because I know it would hurt me. But I also don't know if she truly has no idea. I asked my friend if I should say something to her but my friend said I'd just be opening myself up to unnecessary drama and stirring a pot that doesn't need to be stirred. Unless things escalate. That it would be wrong to potentially cause issues in their relationships over what could be innocent curiosity.
Idk. Maybe I'm over thinking things as I am hormonal as I'm 7 months pregnant. But I feel bad not telling her. And I also don't want to block him because at least now I know and can be aware of what's happening. Since he doesn't know I know at this time. I guess it's important to mention I have diagnosed ptsd from multiple things including abusive partners and had an ex stalk me previously. So being able to document things makes me feel calm and more in control of the situation. As finding out he was following me unnoticed for over a year was extremely triggering and as I said before blocking him could result in him just making another fake account.
2024.06.02 05:14 vee-dump Father died with non-presentable checks, complicating criminal liability.
Three individuals involved:
The issue: Under plan of action, I cannot present to any court for BP22, prosecutor or small claims, without involving the three checks for narrative to cover the whole amount damaged, since legal advice I could only choose one - BP22 or small claims. I am trying to reduce bureaucracy such as filing for transfer of check under estate law since it is a very long process. The thought is simple with the case, the judge must've understood right away that the checks belong to me now, only not technically dishonored. Debtor has been willfully evading his debt.
What am I missing?
UPDATE:
GPT said, "pursue the BP 22 case for the dishonored check issued in your name and file a small claims case for the other two checks using an affidavit of inheritance. This dual approach allows you to address both criminal liability under BP 22 and civil recovery through small claims, without violating rules against splitting causes of action."
I responded, "But I cannot narrate the history of the two checks without speaking of the single dishonored check."
GPT replied, "By filing a single civil case for the total debt, you can present the full narrative of all three checks without violating the rule against splitting a single cause of action. This approach simplifies the legal process, avoids bureaucratic hurdles, and ensures all aspects of the debt are addressed in one proceeding."
submitted by vee-dump to LawPH [link] [comments]
- The debtor
- The creditor (now deceased); my father
- Yours truly; the sole heir
- Two issued on father's name/ creditor
- One issued on my name (credito father asked debtor upon the making of checks to name for my behalf, debtor agreed and performed)
- Credito Father died of lung CA
- Yours truly find all monetary assets as part of estate (no probate of checks under estate law done, only thru flow of logic)
- Debtor closed account
- Only a single check in technicality dishonored against closed acct; the remaining two checks named to credito father was not presented since father was tagged by bank as deceased, in effect halted his bank acct.
- But thru flow of logic, the two worthless checks should've been dishonored too since debtor's bank acct was closed prior to the issued date of the two checks.
- Stipulated on demand letter was the single check issued on my name
- Other, two was not drafted with a demand letter
- Single check for my name is to be filed with BP22
- Two checks for small claims court under MTCC
The issue: Under plan of action, I cannot present to any court for BP22, prosecutor or small claims, without involving the three checks for narrative to cover the whole amount damaged, since legal advice I could only choose one - BP22 or small claims. I am trying to reduce bureaucracy such as filing for transfer of check under estate law since it is a very long process. The thought is simple with the case, the judge must've understood right away that the checks belong to me now, only not technically dishonored. Debtor has been willfully evading his debt.
What am I missing?
UPDATE:
GPT said, "pursue the BP 22 case for the dishonored check issued in your name and file a small claims case for the other two checks using an affidavit of inheritance. This dual approach allows you to address both criminal liability under BP 22 and civil recovery through small claims, without violating rules against splitting causes of action."
I responded, "But I cannot narrate the history of the two checks without speaking of the single dishonored check."
GPT replied, "By filing a single civil case for the total debt, you can present the full narrative of all three checks without violating the rule against splitting a single cause of action. This approach simplifies the legal process, avoids bureaucratic hurdles, and ensures all aspects of the debt are addressed in one proceeding."
2024.06.02 04:53 Joe4Everr I began self-harming again and my legs are hurting horrendously. Great.
My legs burn and I don't dare to walk right now; the pain will probably go away in a while, so I'll write this in the meantime. I'm looking at the horrible mess I've just made, and although I had been clean for quite some time, I feel disappointed in myself.
This reminds me of one particular occasion when my father found a rant I wrote in my notebook last year; when he confronted me about it, he said, “Think of those who have no legs; they would kill to be in your situation, and you do this to yourself?”
And he's right. Of course he is, but the fact that he's right makes me realize how selfish I really am, and makes me want to die even more. It's a cycle, and if you're on this sub for the same reason I am, you probably know it's one of the worst feelings in the world.
I love writing poems and stories in my notebooks, but all I see now are suicide notes, vivid images from my mind. I wonder what my parents would think if they saw the kind of things I write now. They love me more than anything in this world and I love them too, but I'll never know what they really think of me. The only thing I can really say is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a bad human being.
submitted by Joe4Everr to depression [link] [comments]
This reminds me of one particular occasion when my father found a rant I wrote in my notebook last year; when he confronted me about it, he said, “Think of those who have no legs; they would kill to be in your situation, and you do this to yourself?”
And he's right. Of course he is, but the fact that he's right makes me realize how selfish I really am, and makes me want to die even more. It's a cycle, and if you're on this sub for the same reason I am, you probably know it's one of the worst feelings in the world.
I love writing poems and stories in my notebooks, but all I see now are suicide notes, vivid images from my mind. I wonder what my parents would think if they saw the kind of things I write now. They love me more than anything in this world and I love them too, but I'll never know what they really think of me. The only thing I can really say is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a bad human being.
2024.06.02 04:50 PolarBearChewChew My wife (47f) was acting strange last year, and after New Year's, and walked out on me (48m) after over 20 years being married. Was she cheating on me?
Let me preface this with the past 5 years summarized.
My wife used to smoke when I met her. She smoked when we were married, and for many years after. Due to health concerns, she decided to quit, and did so sometime around 2013.
We used to go away on holidays together as a family. In 2016 I took our son (13 at the time) on a road trip across a lot of the South and Western US States (CO, TX, UT, AZ, NM) while she went to another city to spend time with her daughter from another relationship. Since then, we did not go on holidays or take vacation together at the same time.
In 2017 I went away with our son, and again in 2018 and 2019. Sometime around 2019 I noticed my wife was smoking again, but I decided not to bother her about it, just let it be. I didn't say anything. She would leave to go to the store to smoke, because who goes to the store 2x every day?
She got into the car cruise nights and she would take her daughter along with her. Our son would ask to go, and she would often say no, she had already promised her daughter. Sometimes she would let him go.
She never wanted me to go with her, and in fact said so with excuses all the time ("you don't like sitting in my car, you don't like being around other people a lot, you should have fun with our son playing games instead" you name it). In the fall of 2022, our son told her that we knew she was smoking, when I wasn't home. So at first the nightly shopping trips ceased, as she began smoking outside on the street.
In 2023, for our anniversary, I got her a present and sent her a nice text. She thanked me by text, and didn't do or say anything in return. For my birthday, she didn't get me a card, or a gift. For father's day, same thing, no card, nothing. I had asked her to go away with me on a trip, and she said no. So I took our son on another trip. We had to come home 4 days early because we got sick, and she was upset we arrived early. She had taken the same period off for her holidays without telling me, and was mad that she was off work when I would also be off work and at home.
For her birthday, she didn't want me to do anything or even take her out, and instead went out by herself on a cruise night. At least she said she was going by herself, I didn't verify.
I should mention that during our whole relationship, I have always shared my phone location with her, but she has never shared hers with me, even though I've asked. She said she doesn't trust location services on the phone and so didn't want to use it. Okay, fine. She never would let me see her phone, and she had a passcode she never wanted me to see. Also, we had ceased having any sex sometime around 2018, and stopped kissing each other shortly after.
In the fall of 2023, she wanted to go to a cruise happening in another city, one state over. I said I'd like to go, and it seemed like she wasn't pleased but also not showing it. I could just have been reading that wrong. We went, and checked in to our hotel for the night, and she sat on the couch beside me on her phone for hours. I tried talking and she didn't want to engage. I tried rubbing her back, and touching her and it was like touching a dead person, with no response. When I finally said that I thought maybe we could make love, she said she was too tired for that.
The next day, I told her I wanted to make love to her, and she said she would have to shower first, and when she came out of the shower, we made love. But it was different than it used to be.
She started going out again to the store more frequently, and then it became just going for a drive, or going for a walk after a drive, or just sitting in her car in some random parking lot for 6 hours listening to music (so she said).
Just before Christmas, she went to the car club dinner, and said I wasn't invited so I couldn't go along.
On New Year's Eve, she told me after supper, at 7pm, that she was going to a party that her friend was hosting, and that she wanted to go alone. I was quite upset over this, but didn't say anything. I just let her go, while I sat at home and cried.
The next week, she asked me to book a hotel room for her for middle of January, as she was taking a week of holidays. I was upset, wondering where this was leading, but I did it for her.
After her first night, I texted her and asked how she slept, and she said she didn't sleep well, was up at midnight because car alarms were going off in the parking lot, and she didn't get back to sleep until after 2:30am.
Our anniversary came, and I got her a gift, and sent her a text. She simply said "thank you for the gift" but nothing else. It seemed off, but not like this wasn't a trend. It was just, becoming more distant and off.
From the hotel stay, through until the end of February, she would be out for at least 4-6 hours every single night and the entire weekends. It was drinking with the girls from work (something she never did before) to coffee with a certain friend (we'll call her Nettie), out for a drive, etc. In the beginning of February, our son needed to go to the hospital, and he had texted her to take him, because I had already taken him 4 times in the prior 2 months. She showed up at home to pick him up, and on the way to the hospital, she was texting someone, with her phone held at an angle so he couldn't see. Several times they almost hit another car or went into the ditch.
Finally he shouted at her "who is so important that you're texting, that you're willing to kill us over?" and she angrily just slammed her phone down and said nothing.
On February 29, in the afternoon, she sent me an email that she was separating from me. I didn't see it until 7pm. She came home from work at around 6, and was really weird. I guess she didn't know I hadn't seen it yet. We decided on supper, and she went out to get the food and bring it home. While she was out, I saw the email.
She never gave me any reason why. Here was her email:
I began trying to figure out where this was all coming from. I started looking at the phone bills, something I had never done before. I reversed phone numbers she had called, and then saw that during the time she was at the hotel, she had zero phone calls, except for one. She received a call at 11:30pm on the first night she was staying there, The same night she mentioned she was awakened by car alarms when I asked how her night was.
Why did she get a phone call at 11:30pm, who was it? Why no other calls for the rest of her stay? People she would talk to knew she was away? She would typically have at least 3-5 calls minimum every single day on her phone.
Unfortunately, incoming calls don't have a call number listed, just that it is incoming. The call lasted for 2 minutes.
While she was 'separated' from me, but still living in the same home, she would not talk to me. At all. One evening, a few weeks after the divorce filing, she was texting someone, and at 9pm she went to bed. Half hour later she got up, and went out the door, and was gone for 2 hours, returning at 11:30pm, going straight to bed. Something she had never done before.
I was blindsided and struck by this separation, and then divorce. I mean, our marriage wasn't great for years, no sex, no intimacy, no "love", but I had figured she just needed some space. I gave her space.
One thing that happened 3 weeks before she separated from me, our son came to me, and told me that his mom was acting really weird for the past while. He said he had some ideas, but he didn't want to tell me because he didn't want to be wrong. I told him I already had ideas, and I had already talked to friends who gave me their opinion, and just spit it out. He said he thought she was cheating on me, and that it was possibly someone from the car cruise group. He told me about the texting incident while driving to the hospital.
Additionally, he told me the first time she took him to the car group, she told him MANY times "you don't have to worry about me, all of these people are married". He said at one point "why are you telling me that?" and she said "well, I didn't want you to think I'm seeing other people behind your dad's back".
On top of this, I had started checking up on her when she would say where she was going. And she wasn't going there. She said she went for coffee at a coworker's house, and when I went for a drive while she was there, I found she wasn't there. She also had texted me at least 8 times that she was going to see Nettie for coffee. Which is funny because I ran into Nettie a few weeks ago, and Nettie hadn't seen her since last summer, when my wife betrayed her trust somehow and walked out on their friendship.
Was my wife cheating on me? She refuses to talk to me. She is telling people lies, like saying that I came to the hotel and checked up on her while she was there, telling the front desk people to "call him if anyone goes to his wife's room". She has told people I know that I had accused her of cheating on me, and I wasn't trusting her, etc.
Is she just done with our marriage? I think it all fell apart 5 years ago, but I'm not entirely sure. The way she was with me, and at home was nearly the same until the day she gave me a separation email, as it was for the prior 5 years. Was she faking it for 5 years?
In the meantime, she has turned her daughter away from me. She and our son went out for the afternoon a couple of months ago, and she told him "isn't it so shitty what dad did to mom?". I didn't do anything... I don't get it.
If she comes crawling back to me, I will not get back together with her. She has proven now that she is 100% untrustworthy. And without trust, there can be no relationship.
submitted by PolarBearChewChew to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
My wife used to smoke when I met her. She smoked when we were married, and for many years after. Due to health concerns, she decided to quit, and did so sometime around 2013.
We used to go away on holidays together as a family. In 2016 I took our son (13 at the time) on a road trip across a lot of the South and Western US States (CO, TX, UT, AZ, NM) while she went to another city to spend time with her daughter from another relationship. Since then, we did not go on holidays or take vacation together at the same time.
In 2017 I went away with our son, and again in 2018 and 2019. Sometime around 2019 I noticed my wife was smoking again, but I decided not to bother her about it, just let it be. I didn't say anything. She would leave to go to the store to smoke, because who goes to the store 2x every day?
She got into the car cruise nights and she would take her daughter along with her. Our son would ask to go, and she would often say no, she had already promised her daughter. Sometimes she would let him go.
She never wanted me to go with her, and in fact said so with excuses all the time ("you don't like sitting in my car, you don't like being around other people a lot, you should have fun with our son playing games instead" you name it). In the fall of 2022, our son told her that we knew she was smoking, when I wasn't home. So at first the nightly shopping trips ceased, as she began smoking outside on the street.
In 2023, for our anniversary, I got her a present and sent her a nice text. She thanked me by text, and didn't do or say anything in return. For my birthday, she didn't get me a card, or a gift. For father's day, same thing, no card, nothing. I had asked her to go away with me on a trip, and she said no. So I took our son on another trip. We had to come home 4 days early because we got sick, and she was upset we arrived early. She had taken the same period off for her holidays without telling me, and was mad that she was off work when I would also be off work and at home.
For her birthday, she didn't want me to do anything or even take her out, and instead went out by herself on a cruise night. At least she said she was going by herself, I didn't verify.
I should mention that during our whole relationship, I have always shared my phone location with her, but she has never shared hers with me, even though I've asked. She said she doesn't trust location services on the phone and so didn't want to use it. Okay, fine. She never would let me see her phone, and she had a passcode she never wanted me to see. Also, we had ceased having any sex sometime around 2018, and stopped kissing each other shortly after.
In the fall of 2023, she wanted to go to a cruise happening in another city, one state over. I said I'd like to go, and it seemed like she wasn't pleased but also not showing it. I could just have been reading that wrong. We went, and checked in to our hotel for the night, and she sat on the couch beside me on her phone for hours. I tried talking and she didn't want to engage. I tried rubbing her back, and touching her and it was like touching a dead person, with no response. When I finally said that I thought maybe we could make love, she said she was too tired for that.
The next day, I told her I wanted to make love to her, and she said she would have to shower first, and when she came out of the shower, we made love. But it was different than it used to be.
She started going out again to the store more frequently, and then it became just going for a drive, or going for a walk after a drive, or just sitting in her car in some random parking lot for 6 hours listening to music (so she said).
Just before Christmas, she went to the car club dinner, and said I wasn't invited so I couldn't go along.
On New Year's Eve, she told me after supper, at 7pm, that she was going to a party that her friend was hosting, and that she wanted to go alone. I was quite upset over this, but didn't say anything. I just let her go, while I sat at home and cried.
The next week, she asked me to book a hotel room for her for middle of January, as she was taking a week of holidays. I was upset, wondering where this was leading, but I did it for her.
After her first night, I texted her and asked how she slept, and she said she didn't sleep well, was up at midnight because car alarms were going off in the parking lot, and she didn't get back to sleep until after 2:30am.
Our anniversary came, and I got her a gift, and sent her a text. She simply said "thank you for the gift" but nothing else. It seemed off, but not like this wasn't a trend. It was just, becoming more distant and off.
From the hotel stay, through until the end of February, she would be out for at least 4-6 hours every single night and the entire weekends. It was drinking with the girls from work (something she never did before) to coffee with a certain friend (we'll call her Nettie), out for a drive, etc. In the beginning of February, our son needed to go to the hospital, and he had texted her to take him, because I had already taken him 4 times in the prior 2 months. She showed up at home to pick him up, and on the way to the hospital, she was texting someone, with her phone held at an angle so he couldn't see. Several times they almost hit another car or went into the ditch.
Finally he shouted at her "who is so important that you're texting, that you're willing to kill us over?" and she angrily just slammed her phone down and said nothing.
On February 29, in the afternoon, she sent me an email that she was separating from me. I didn't see it until 7pm. She came home from work at around 6, and was really weird. I guess she didn't know I hadn't seen it yet. We decided on supper, and she went out to get the food and bring it home. While she was out, I saw the email.
She never gave me any reason why. Here was her email:
I have been unhappy for such a long time, and nothing seems to help us improve our relationship. I am sorry to say this, but this relationship isn’t bringing out the best in either of us so I’ve decided that I want to separate with the intention of reconciliation.After this, she began asking me questions over several days about things, accounts, etc., and I reasoned she was seeing a lawyer. So I made an appointment and saw a lawyer, and we drafted a letter to send to her. In the meantime, before receiving that letter, she filed for divorce, with no possibility of reconciliation, and she filed to take all of my assets, and for a restraining and protection order. She filed to take the house, and have exclusive access to it, etc.
I feel like I don’t have any space in our house. I mentioned using the 2nd bedroom for my painting and you said right away that you wanted to use it. I stopped even trying to do this.
I would like for you to take care of yourself and get some answers regarding your health and wellness.
Some of the steps I am taking include:
I am currently looking for a place of my own, so we both have space to work on our own stuff. I need time to reflect on myself and discover who I am again. I’m looking for peace within myself and feel I need to do this on my own.
I have opened my own account and my next pay check will be deposited into this account.
I am seeing a counselor.
In restarting our journey, I support your promise to clean up the basement and to sell the stuff. I am also hurting at this time, we both need to heal so we can continue.
I think it's best if we communicate through email for now. I will respond within 24 hours.
I began trying to figure out where this was all coming from. I started looking at the phone bills, something I had never done before. I reversed phone numbers she had called, and then saw that during the time she was at the hotel, she had zero phone calls, except for one. She received a call at 11:30pm on the first night she was staying there, The same night she mentioned she was awakened by car alarms when I asked how her night was.
Why did she get a phone call at 11:30pm, who was it? Why no other calls for the rest of her stay? People she would talk to knew she was away? She would typically have at least 3-5 calls minimum every single day on her phone.
Unfortunately, incoming calls don't have a call number listed, just that it is incoming. The call lasted for 2 minutes.
While she was 'separated' from me, but still living in the same home, she would not talk to me. At all. One evening, a few weeks after the divorce filing, she was texting someone, and at 9pm she went to bed. Half hour later she got up, and went out the door, and was gone for 2 hours, returning at 11:30pm, going straight to bed. Something she had never done before.
I was blindsided and struck by this separation, and then divorce. I mean, our marriage wasn't great for years, no sex, no intimacy, no "love", but I had figured she just needed some space. I gave her space.
One thing that happened 3 weeks before she separated from me, our son came to me, and told me that his mom was acting really weird for the past while. He said he had some ideas, but he didn't want to tell me because he didn't want to be wrong. I told him I already had ideas, and I had already talked to friends who gave me their opinion, and just spit it out. He said he thought she was cheating on me, and that it was possibly someone from the car cruise group. He told me about the texting incident while driving to the hospital.
Additionally, he told me the first time she took him to the car group, she told him MANY times "you don't have to worry about me, all of these people are married". He said at one point "why are you telling me that?" and she said "well, I didn't want you to think I'm seeing other people behind your dad's back".
On top of this, I had started checking up on her when she would say where she was going. And she wasn't going there. She said she went for coffee at a coworker's house, and when I went for a drive while she was there, I found she wasn't there. She also had texted me at least 8 times that she was going to see Nettie for coffee. Which is funny because I ran into Nettie a few weeks ago, and Nettie hadn't seen her since last summer, when my wife betrayed her trust somehow and walked out on their friendship.
Was my wife cheating on me? She refuses to talk to me. She is telling people lies, like saying that I came to the hotel and checked up on her while she was there, telling the front desk people to "call him if anyone goes to his wife's room". She has told people I know that I had accused her of cheating on me, and I wasn't trusting her, etc.
Is she just done with our marriage? I think it all fell apart 5 years ago, but I'm not entirely sure. The way she was with me, and at home was nearly the same until the day she gave me a separation email, as it was for the prior 5 years. Was she faking it for 5 years?
In the meantime, she has turned her daughter away from me. She and our son went out for the afternoon a couple of months ago, and she told him "isn't it so shitty what dad did to mom?". I didn't do anything... I don't get it.
If she comes crawling back to me, I will not get back together with her. She has proven now that she is 100% untrustworthy. And without trust, there can be no relationship.
2024.06.02 04:20 zaddar1 human beauty/ i have none of/ its not sadness that leads one to grasp it
chinese history can’t be separated from the problem of eunuchs, a political class, that was in theory supposed to be loyal to the emperor but turned out to be as self-interested as any other clique
a particularly messy rebellion against them
as a matter of interest, they also had the penis as well as the testicles removed giving rise to urinary tract problems that were highly unpleasant and even so, the imperial concubines usually took eunuchs as lovers
i think on balance they probably did facilitate many centuries of highly centralised rule, a role today filled by communications and surveillance technology
the bottom line of any addiction is what is it excluding ?
what is the opportunity cost ?
usually its so high because you have recognised it as an addiction
human beauty
i have none of
its not sadness that leads one to grasp it
too fragile to be held
but a deep melancholy
death is too close
to
beauty
the female world
sorta isolated
its own bubble
sorta tangential
to reality
propaganda and dictatorships work by controlling information and hence beliefs and opinions and it is amazing how easily we driven by these into various insanities
from the control point of view, any creativity is a threat or poison and is dealt with by the force of suppression or aversion
in delusian terms "creativity is an act of resistance"
when on reddit and you get downvoted, just repeat to yourself "a downvote is an upvote" which it really is since you have distressed an idiot !
the freedom
of good health
in old age
there
is
no
other
women
the burden of ovaries
undercuts
an entire life
seeker and sought
the religious parlance
meaning
nothing
"zen" is a wrapped up box with some writing on it saying "i promise the answer’s inside" and when you open it up, its empty
i would guess the royal family has been boosted to the gills for covid and king charles and princess catherine both getting cancer makes me wonder
the precipice’s edge
unstable
dangerous to be there
walking
back
takes
time
on the other hand
stability
is an illusion
st. isaac the syrian
quotes I
quotes II
“ for it is more expedient to be bruised than dead ”
he’s very underappreciated
the
female
need
for
faces
deep
genetic
programming
han china
umpteen million
one
grain of sand
amongst many
must alter your perspective
the
system
can
do
without
you
existential angst
when tears roll from a baby’s eyes
its a bit early to be thinking about these matters
pillars of salt
we are always looking behind
but at least we can see
what has gone behind
what we can’t see
is
what is behind
other pillars
of
salt
plucked from life
unto death
another state of being
the former from the latter
distinctive is
but how the latter
views the former
we can never know
ed. a poem i wrote on looking at a photo of emily dickinson’s nephew, gilbert dickinson who died of typhoid aged eight, the rhythms and semantics of the poem make it seem like it could have been written by emily ?
a non traumatic demonstration of how a caesarean delivery is done
its not a trivial procedure, i’ll say that
something i had never thought about
not surviving an operation
it happens
even
with
the
routine
the unwanted
stalks
us
everywhere
.
something i had never thought about
surviving an operation
it happens
even
with
the
routine
the unwanted
stalks
us
everywhere
feeling
the travesty
of how ill it fits
with the way this world works
the thought of nothing squared
halve it
then triple it again
is still nothing squared
travelling and living in a new place you like for a while and then leaving again
its like falling in love and then breaking up, what can you do ?
continuities
dreams
stitching together
what is discontinuous
interior stresses rend
apart
what is held together
for a while
all rivers run
as coleridge said
to oblivion
ed. these lines below from coleridge’s most famous poem have always puzzled me, now i think about it, my poem is an alternative, more abstract version of his full poem which has always puzzled me and now it has sort of solved itself, i can’t believe it has sat in my brain for thirty or forty years as a puzzle looking for a solution
where alph, the sacred river, ran
through caverns measureless to man
down to a sunless sea
i give credit to coleridge claiming the poem is unfinished, but i am not sure that level of intense creativity can be sustained and even in terms of the existing poem it was starting to fall apart by the end
this is such a zen/religious thing, taking other’s words and paintings, not a single thing is their own
this is because the moment they say something or draw something of their own its laughable
you can’t tell 'em, diet and exercise are extremely important in keeping good mental health “ recent research published in the journal clinical nutrition reveals a significant link between high consumption of ultra-processed foods and an increased risk of developing depression
this study, conducted in brazil, indicates that individuals adhering to diets rich in ultra-processed foods are more likely to experience depressive symptoms over time these findings underscore the potential mental health risks associated with dietary patterns characterized by processed and convenience foods ”
i nearly ran into a cyclist a week ago on a windy back road because neither of us was keeping far enough to the left, then a little later nearly hit a car because, again i was not keeping far enough to the left
hopefully i have learnt, i think i was driving like i drive at night when you can assume you will see any oncoming traffic well ahead because of their headlights
daylight gives no such clues and cutting blind corners seems to be a local habit
“ taken together, our data highlight the profound impact of exercise in rejuvenating aged microglia (ed. reverting their gene expression signature to that of young microglia), associated pro-neurogenic effects and on peripheral immune cell presence in the ageing female mouse brain ”
julliard
clone factory
squashes
creativity
assembly line
performance
when OP’s bleed
their writers
in denial
about their injury
but
a portion
of
their
brain
cries
ed. certified GPT-free
the double edged sword
cuts
its holder
as one brought up on a very patriarchal version of english history its interesting to see that william the conquerer’s success was in part due to having a very politically competent wife
ed. video has 3 parts
also interesting is that due to harold godwinson having been captured in normandy and kept there for a while, he knew both mitilda (possibly even having an affair with her) and william very well and should have been more au fait with norman battle tactics and strengths i have a theory that the middle ages and somewhat later had in effect a breeding program through intermarriage within the nobility/aristocracy creating a politically competent class, because politics is not a natural skill to the species, same thing for ancient egypt, in fact today’s international politics suffers a lot from people lacking any sort of the rationality and largeness of mind required
submitted by zaddar1 to zen_mystical [link] [comments]
a particularly messy rebellion against them
as a matter of interest, they also had the penis as well as the testicles removed giving rise to urinary tract problems that were highly unpleasant and even so, the imperial concubines usually took eunuchs as lovers
i think on balance they probably did facilitate many centuries of highly centralised rule, a role today filled by communications and surveillance technology
what is the opportunity cost ?
usually its so high because you have recognised it as an addiction
i have none of
its not sadness that leads one to grasp it
too fragile to be held
but a deep melancholy
death is too close
to
beauty
sorta isolated
its own bubble
sorta tangential
to reality
from the control point of view, any creativity is a threat or poison and is dealt with by the force of suppression or aversion
in delusian terms "creativity is an act of resistance"
of good health
in old age
there
is
no
other
the burden of ovaries
undercuts
an entire life
the religious parlance
meaning
nothing
unstable
dangerous to be there
walking
back
takes
time
on the other hand
stability
is an illusion
quotes I
quotes II
“ for it is more expedient to be bruised than dead ”
he’s very underappreciated
female
need
for
faces
deep
genetic
programming
umpteen million
one
grain of sand
amongst many
must alter your perspective
the
system
can
do
without
you
when tears roll from a baby’s eyes
its a bit early to be thinking about these matters
we are always looking behind
but at least we can see
what has gone behind
what we can’t see
is
what is behind
other pillars
of
salt
unto death
another state of being
the former from the latter
distinctive is
but how the latter
views the former
we can never know
ed. a poem i wrote on looking at a photo of emily dickinson’s nephew, gilbert dickinson who died of typhoid aged eight, the rhythms and semantics of the poem make it seem like it could have been written by emily ?
its not a trivial procedure, i’ll say that
not surviving an operation
it happens
even
with
the
routine
the unwanted
stalks
us
everywhere
.
something i had never thought about
surviving an operation
it happens
even
with
the
routine
the unwanted
stalks
us
everywhere
the travesty
of how ill it fits
with the way this world works
halve it
then triple it again
is still nothing squared
its like falling in love and then breaking up, what can you do ?
dreams
stitching together
what is discontinuous
interior stresses rend
apart
what is held together
for a while
all rivers run
as coleridge said
to oblivion
ed. these lines below from coleridge’s most famous poem have always puzzled me, now i think about it, my poem is an alternative, more abstract version of his full poem which has always puzzled me and now it has sort of solved itself, i can’t believe it has sat in my brain for thirty or forty years as a puzzle looking for a solution
where alph, the sacred river, ran
through caverns measureless to man
down to a sunless sea
i give credit to coleridge claiming the poem is unfinished, but i am not sure that level of intense creativity can be sustained and even in terms of the existing poem it was starting to fall apart by the end
this is because the moment they say something or draw something of their own its laughable
this study, conducted in brazil, indicates that individuals adhering to diets rich in ultra-processed foods are more likely to experience depressive symptoms over time these findings underscore the potential mental health risks associated with dietary patterns characterized by processed and convenience foods ”
hopefully i have learnt, i think i was driving like i drive at night when you can assume you will see any oncoming traffic well ahead because of their headlights
daylight gives no such clues and cutting blind corners seems to be a local habit
clone factory
squashes
creativity
assembly line
performance
their writers
in denial
about their injury
but
a portion
of
their
brain
cries
ed. certified GPT-free
cuts
its holder
ed. video has 3 parts
also interesting is that due to harold godwinson having been captured in normandy and kept there for a while, he knew both mitilda (possibly even having an affair with her) and william very well and should have been more au fait with norman battle tactics and strengths i have a theory that the middle ages and somewhat later had in effect a breeding program through intermarriage within the nobility/aristocracy creating a politically competent class, because politics is not a natural skill to the species, same thing for ancient egypt, in fact today’s international politics suffers a lot from people lacking any sort of the rationality and largeness of mind required
2024.06.02 03:11 lakija Secret Dragon - Chapter 9: Knowing
Chapter 9: Knowing
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐️ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐️ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings… What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.
I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “…the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling…” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep…”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was… horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess…
Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah…” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so…”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
submitted by lakija to lakija [link] [comments]
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐️ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐️ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings… What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.
I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “…the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling…” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep…”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was… horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess…
Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah…” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so…”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
2024.06.02 03:08 crime_target_5485 Recourse for fraud and perjury past statute of limitations?
Part vent. Part hope for closure advice. Part prayer there is something to be done. Throw away account for privacy/safety reasons
Is there any recourse for hidden assets and perjury in a divorce case from 10 years ago? Significant amounts in the mid 6 digits.
Entirety of marital assets were siphoned off over years from the very beginning, with the help of spouse's father.
Extremely likely that the father, now deceased, was in organized crime, bookmaker or shadow banker, hiding his own assets, and evading taxes.
submitted by crime_target_5485 to Divorce [link] [comments]
Is there any recourse for hidden assets and perjury in a divorce case from 10 years ago? Significant amounts in the mid 6 digits.
Entirety of marital assets were siphoned off over years from the very beginning, with the help of spouse's father.
Extremely likely that the father, now deceased, was in organized crime, bookmaker or shadow banker, hiding his own assets, and evading taxes.
2024.06.02 03:07 Existing_Ad8145 30 F has stopped loving me 33M two years after marriage. Should I keep fighting?
Where to start?
My wife, an Italian, and I (English) got married two years ago. She told me on the day after our wedding anniversary dinner that she had stopped loving me and had feelings for her work colleague. Another Italian, 10 years her senior.
It has been a rough time coming to terms with all this. It has still only been 10 days. Believe me I have gone through some dark moment and I am grateful to friend and family (and whisky).
Her reasons are so arbitrary for falling out of love: I no longer would follow what she asked; I did not comfort her enough when she got a Graves’ disease diagnosis; she felt I was talking enough with my estranged father; she felt a fall in connection.
Only the diagnosis and connection reason I can really understand. I have tried to get her to see this as a growth opportunity to better connect, but in her mind she is made up. She has really said so many hurtful things I have decided to block her today. I moved out a week ago and returned home.
It is hard to know if I should keep fighting or not.
I hate her for what she has done but I also know we achieved some great things together.
submitted by Existing_Ad8145 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
My wife, an Italian, and I (English) got married two years ago. She told me on the day after our wedding anniversary dinner that she had stopped loving me and had feelings for her work colleague. Another Italian, 10 years her senior.
It has been a rough time coming to terms with all this. It has still only been 10 days. Believe me I have gone through some dark moment and I am grateful to friend and family (and whisky).
Her reasons are so arbitrary for falling out of love: I no longer would follow what she asked; I did not comfort her enough when she got a Graves’ disease diagnosis; she felt I was talking enough with my estranged father; she felt a fall in connection.
Only the diagnosis and connection reason I can really understand. I have tried to get her to see this as a growth opportunity to better connect, but in her mind she is made up. She has really said so many hurtful things I have decided to block her today. I moved out a week ago and returned home.
It is hard to know if I should keep fighting or not.
I hate her for what she has done but I also know we achieved some great things together.
2024.06.02 02:56 lakija Secret Dragon - Chapter 9: Knowing
Chapter 9: Knowing
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐️ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐️ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings… What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.
I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “…the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling…” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep…”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was… horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess…
Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah…” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so…”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
submitted by lakija to u/lakija [link] [comments]
—
Suggested Listening:
Nicholas Brittel Agape
Required Listening ⭐️ Kwabs Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
⭐️ Raye Vela Like a Star Cover (Corinne Bailey Rae)
—
“Is your heart doing okay?” I asked.
“Yes. It is fine. I am tired, but alright.”
“Good,” I said. “I was wondering. Can you tell me another poem? And then we can go to sleep.”
Sasha looked at me. “About what?” he said, smoke drifting into my face.
“I don’t know. Tell me one about someone you love.”
“Hmm,” he nodded. “Let’s see.”
He pondered this, then an expression I can only describe as conflicted crept across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“There are few I love so dearly as this person.”
My eyes widened. “Who is it?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed. Then he frowned. At first a little, then deeply.
“What?” I asked gently.
Sasha shook his head. I saw pain now in his expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my own brow furrowing. “Please don’t. I can pick something else. Or, actually, we can just go to sleep right now.”
Sasha closed his eyes. Then nodded as if he had come to a decision.
“I will do this. This person I love more than my own self. I would die for him. However, it will not be pretty, this poem.”
I frowned too. “Okay,” I whispered.
“ Sharp Like the tip of a blade Blunt Like the pommel of the same sword Me Like the face of his face Him Like the reflection of my visage Swift Like the bird of prey’s flight Ruthless Like the killing of its hunt Dark Like the night without the moon Troubled Like the Dead River of the Void Alive Like his heart’s beating rhythm Dying Like the joy of his soul “
“Who is that about?” I asked, concerned. “You, ‘the face of his face.’ Your twin?”
“Yes. He is not well,” Sasha said.
“Why? What happened?”
Sasha turned away from me, shaking his head. “It is too heavy to speak of just now. In the future we will.”
“Okay, I get you,” I reassured him.
“Thank you. I worry about him everyday. I call him just as much. I would give my life for him. I owe it to him,” Sasha said fiercely. “He gave his and much more. Because of his strength we survived an ordeal too terrible to speak of.”
I thought back to when he said he felt as if he were dying. I hadn’t known he meant it literally. Then the words he had latched on to: mangled and twisted. A picture was forming. A bad one.
“Thank you for creating this poem. You didn’t have to put yourself through that pain for me,” I said guiltily. Sasha shook his head at me.
“It is okay. Perhaps it was good to express his personality in poetry. It hurts to be away from him in this place. He-“ Sasha stopped. He rubbed his mouth. “I hope he is well enough to come eventually.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say. But I did not press the issue.
“Me too. I’m so sorry you all are dealing with that kind of pain. For what it’s worth, I think the poem you made about him is beautiful. Your brother sounds like a strong Wingscale that’s really going through it right now. I hope whatever joy has been stolen from him—from his soul—renews from the ashes. Or maybe some new joy will settle there, burning brightly.”
“Like a Phoenix,” he smiled. “I will tell him what you said. You two would get along, I think.”
“I can’t wait to meet him then,” I said. I wondered what sort of person he was. Moreover, I found it incredibly interesting that Sasha had a twin considering I did as well. I would tell him that news sometime when he was not already overwhelmed.
“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had all kinds of heart attacks and poetry and seen fire wings and what have you,” I suggested.
Sasha chuckled. “Perhaps. I must escape from this. I do not think I have made so many beautiful words manifest as poetry as I have tonight. If I do not sleep I will continue.”
“Okay, right? I usually spend some serious time writing these things. But tonight it’s like my mouth is possessed by my own self.”
“What an apt way to describe it. I feel the same. I acknowledge that my manner of speech is skilled, but tonight it holds a level of eloquence that I did not know I possessed.”
I thought back to his oration, the first thing he recited of our lyrical night. I shivered. “Sasha, you can ‘Speak to me’ anytime. This soul is listening. Eloquence indeed.”
“I promise I will speak to you more oration. You are the only person I know who would enjoy such serious strings of words for your own enjoyment.”
“I have a taste for dignity,” I replied.
Sasha paused. “What more do you need of eloquence when your mouth creates it from nowhere?”
“You have the flavor I want.”
Sasha stared at me incredulously and shook his head. “I am done with you again. You talk me into a trap at every turn.”
I cackled at him. “Alright, alright. It’s time for you go to sleep.”
“Very well,” he said, laughing gently.
I held him closer, although it was impossible. His wing came down over me like a shroud of protection. We held on to each other in silence, not needing anything to fill the space. I just breathed him. Smoke. Fire. Silence. Warmth. Breath. Growl. They spoke enough.
After a while of just laying there in peacefulness, he fell asleep. I could feel the regular inhalations and exhalations marked by the shudder of his chest. And he was a heavy sleeper. Or he was exhausted. Both probably. His flames were still wild even in slumber. Small flickers and tendrils of fire peeked every so often from his mouth. A deep growl emanated from his chest and throat at every exhalation. I stroked Sasha’s face as he slept, the heat of his fire on my hand, and he didn’t move an inch.
I watched him for a while until it occurred to me to write out all the words we had recited to each other. I turned over and reached past his wing to grab my phone from the nightstand. The glow from my screen was strange, it’s blueness cutting through the smoky red in my vision. I sat back and typed every amazing thing we had said.
Those collections of words we had stitched together from nothing just floored me. I had never made poetry like what I did that night. Such passion and beauty.
I looked at Sasha again, thinking about the words that had entranced me from his mouth.
‘Speak to me.’
‘Speak to me.’
The phrase kept ringing out in my chest. He was right. It was a rare thing to find someone who would hang on to your every word with the utmost attention. With actual interest, engagement. I wanted to speak to him forever, about anything. And he would listen. I would listen to him.
I closed my eyes and shook my head at such strong thoughts about a stranger. I thought of all the ‘normal’ people I had dated in the past. The relationships had all gone ‘normally’: date, texting, talking into the night, more dates, sex, dates. Accusations, breakups, crying. Getting over it. Normal stuff.
This was not normal, not in the slightest. Never in all my life had I behaved the way I did under that tree. I was still wondering who that was. Who was the Leila that kissed that way, that straddled dragons in broad daylight? That made love without a first date at all and then swore a stranger to an oath of binding, a whole relationship? That spoke poetry at him from her breath like it was my own fire?
Apparently I was her. It frightened me, the speed with which she and I had moved in one evening. And yet it all felt perfectly normal, inevitable.
Of course I had known when Sasha arrived there was something special about him, no matter how I tried to pretend everything was normal. why was I pretending?
That very first day, when I saw him walk into my morning class, I wasn’t paying attention when he said who he was. I had looked up and locked eyes with him. We held each others gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Every damn class that day, and the following, I missed him announce his name. It was like a comedy sketch. The writing class we shared was the only one I was paying close attention to, and the professor had written his name on the board of course. It was infuriating.
I watched him like a hawk after he arrived that week. In all that time he didn’t speak around me. And I never spoke to him. Why hadn’t I? What had stopped me?
Just like he said, we just kept Circling each other, but never allowed ourselves to meet at the center of our orbit. He felt the same way. He had said he wanted to speak with me as well but for some reason he didn’t.
It was like a force was beckoning us to each other. To finally meet at the center of a Circle.
This day had been the first time I heard his voice at all. If I had heard it earlier, I would have been completely undone. I would not have let him walk away from me so many times.
I stared at his sleeping form, and a thought came to me again. He avoided speaking around me on purpose. Talking to me. He had known that getting close to me might start something, but had he know it would be his voice that caused such a domino effect? Then again, he knew far more than I did about Callings. Frequencies.
I balked at that word. It was so clumsy, so empty to how it felt. We shared vibes. My soul vibrated on the same wavelength as his body. Our mouths breathed the same breath. Our hearts beat the same.
Sameness. Oneness. Vibes.
He knew something would happen to his body if he let us get too close to each other. I was what he thought I was, and he had failed to prevent that change in us. But he didn’t know anything of how these changes would manifest.
It had happened so fast that he was alarmed to see me standing there in class. As soon as I greeted him, the very second he said ‘hi,’ that curious sound beneath his voice started. The thought that he was so helpless at that moment saddened me the same way it did him when he revealed the permanence of Calling. He never stood a chance. I kissed my hand and continued to stroke his face with that kiss.
And then the wings. The dreams and visions. Those two otherworldly beings… What were we? Were we gods or something? Were we reincarnated versions of them? Possessed? Were they using us? What did any of this mean? I did not know.
I tried to be more upset about this breech on our lives that sent us careening down a path we didn’t ask for. But looking at that red dragon, how could I? Our first contact was so lovely. The way we had spoken to each other in class was sweet. Neither of us could keep a smile off our faces. Laughing and carrying on, a perfect match of good humor.
I stared at him trying to conjure up feelings of grief, apprehension, fear, irritation or anything negative at all, and I came up with nothing.
I sighed. I could tell that in that other life, in that place of lakes of fire and expanses of the cosmos, that we were really something special. Something strong. Something beautiful. I was not alarmed at our sudden connection, the strength of it, the passion of it.
But if we broke apart from one another in the future—everything in me said no—that alarmed me. The coldness. The despair. The threat of death at an incomplete attunement. At a great falling away into a chasm. It was horrifying that Sasha could literally die from us being separated. It was unfair.
I would never let that happen. How horrible a thought. Not after this Calling had fallen upon him and surprises kept rearing their heads.
I was done writing our poems and, subsequently, my musings. I put my phone back where it belonged. My head was still swirling with all those thoughts, but I shut my eyes and tried to shut down my mind.
I held Sasha again. Even in his sleep he put his arms back around me. It made me smile to be enveloped in his warmth.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep as well.
I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I felt Sasha’s heartbeat pick up enough to wake me. It was the time where night lingers in the earliest of hours. Nothing but the soft murmur of calling insects and wind outside.
I groaned and looked up into Sasha’s face, but he was still sleeping.
“What is it?” I asked, groggy.
“Please,” he slurred.
“Please what?” I whispered, more alert.
He mumbled something more in his sleep. “Make it stop,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded. “…the shore...”
I put my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what he could be dreaming about. It occurred to me that all that talk of pain and wounds might have stemmed from ptsd or something like that. He was in the military after all.
I let him be just in case that’s what it was. I did not want to add additional stress or confusion to a ptsd dream.
Eventually Sasha stirred of his own accord. He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. I waited until he seemed to be all there with me.
“Hey, you alright?” I didn’t mention his sleep talking.
He didn’t say a word for a moment, just rubbed his eyebrows. Then he patted my back. I let go of him so he could sit up.
He removed his wing from around me, groaning.
“What is it?” I inquired.
Sasha rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at me. “I heard your Calling…” he whispered tiredly in wonder, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “It was soft and quiet, almost imperceptible. But I heard it, still, in my sleep…”
My eyes widened, my heart pounding as well. I sat up. “Really?” I whispered back. “What is it like?”
He moved his head to the side, still listening. “Soft waves. A wind chime. A whisper of song. I have heard it before. That is why I awoke,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. My Calling sounded peaceful like being at the beach. Of course, my favorite place. Interesting. I sleepily folded my arms under my head.
“It is very faint.” Sasha closed his eyes. “I know when I heard it.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“You are sleepy still. We can speak of it later.”
I waved him off. “We are awake now. I have no doubt when we say we’ll sleep again it will be no trouble. I fell to sleep easily and so did you.”
Sasha chuckled to himself. “Very well, Leila.” He leaned his back, head against the headboard. His eyes stayed closed.
“I was sitting with my brother, Pasha, upon a stone wall at the beach. It was the evening before I came to this place. I was unsure if I had made the right decision to go with my father. To leave Pasha behind. I had wanted to throw myself into my work to forget the ordeal we had both gone through. But Pasha told me I needed something new, and that whatever it was lie across the ocean waiting for me. Something fulfilling. He said that, surely, wallowing in guilt, in anger and sadness, would not help me heal my wounds although he was dealing with wounds of his own.”
I wondered what wounds he meant. I had seen the scars on his wings. More pain. More scars. Mangled and twisted. He had died and would do so again. Moreover, he had muttered something about the shore. And here it appeared in his story. What had happened to him?
As if sensing my questions, he inhaled deeply.
“I will tell you of the things that transpired eventually. It was… horrible. It is still too raw for me. I apologize for these strange disjointed hints of pain, of suffering.”
“No, no. It’s okay. We will discuss it all later,” I said appreciatively. “Go on.”
“Hmm. Even after Pasha’s encouragement, I still felt apprehension about traveling to this land. All at once, I heard a woman singing on the beach, yet I saw no one.
I heard the sound of wildly swaying wind chimes, of rain, of whipping winds, but there were nothing anywhere to make such sounds.
My brother thought I was crazy. But that voice stirred my spirit as I stared out at that dark water. It was mournful, like a siren in a tempest whose heart had been broken to pieces.
At one point, she whispered a barely discernible plea: ‘Someone, just please help me.’ ‘I can’t do this.’”
I gasped in alarm, my heart hammering away so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. I knew at once the woman was me. It was me who had been pleading in turmoil, with those precise words, wanting someone to swoop down and save me. By the Goddess…
Sasha continued his tale, perhaps not noticing my change in demeanor. “I didn’t know where she was, or what it was she did not want to do, but I told my brother to give me a moment.
I stood and walked along the shore, looking for someone in need, for anything strange. I never found any such woman. I spoke a word of peace to her, whoever she was, wherever she was.”
At the same time, we both said:“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be.”
Sasha stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. “You heard those words?”
I nodded, heart still pounding. Which of us was having these heart troubles? Him or me?
Sasha shook his head, rubbing his face. “Madness. But truly amazing nonetheless,” he said quietly.
“Yeah…” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was you,” he said, not asked.
“I suppose so…”
Sasha continued.
“I returned to my brother to conclude our talk. I told him I wanted to stay a while, and he stayed with me. The song turned into something sweeter after a time. I went looking yet again but never found you. Of course I could not. You were nowhere near me.
Eventually we left. Pasha and I parted ways, and I returned to my home.
No matter what I did, I could not shake your voice from my mind that evening. It sent shivers down my spine. So I returned to the beach. There was nothing else for it; I would have remained awake all night agonizing over my travels the next day anyway. Why not do so surrounded by such mystical music?
I went to a quiet place, book and blanket in hand. The water was complete still, yet the sound of waves was everywhere. Intangible, lapping against the shore.”
I recalled when I had mentioned sitting at the beach watching waves lapping on the shore. He had paused then, as we stood in his living room, thinking of something. I now knew he had recalled this event and wondered at the similarities.
“The sunset was vibrant, strangely so. It was stunning, like a painting. No one else seemed to find the sight of note but me.
You were singing, but again in sorrow. I stayed out there, reading a book and meditating, until others went away from the beach. Until only I remained. Your faint song, the softest whispers of singing, became sweet again. So much singing, you did. By the gods so much singing. It was like a quiet concert.”
I covered my face. “I’m glad you caught them,” I said, laughing.
“There was only one song I caught well enough to hear the words. You sang it over and over. I did not sleep until you uttered nothing more, your voice fading away. I felt empty at the silence, but content in that, perhaps, my presence had calmed this siren, that perhaps her broken heart had somewhat mended. Unfortunately for me; the absence of your songs caused a melancholy to settle in my spirit. A longing. I came here looking for your voice. I questioned your love of voices because it shocked me, the similarities we continue to share.”
“Hmmm,” I vocalized, not unlike he so often did.
Sasha regarded me, shaking his head in wonder. “Repeating that event back, it is obvious that this woman was you. At the time, back when it happened, I regarded it as a very strange occurrence or perhaps my descent into madness,” he said.
“You most certainly are not mad,” I said.
“Indeed. I know very well at this point that your experience across the ocean happened at that time. You knew my words.”
“I remember them well. Just like a lot of things so far, we have these experiences, the aspects of ourselves that are too similar to be a coincidence. We are like mirrors.”
“Only one of us is larger.”
“Sasha!” I exclaimed.
He laughed at me, hugging me. Then he lay down onto the bed again.
“Speak to me of that same evening,” he said.
I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow, looking into his eyes.
“I was at the beach too. Certainly the same night, the same week you appeared at school. I have this one particular spot on the beach where no one goes but me. I would make myself a wood fire and look at the smoke swirl into tendrils, embers scattering to the wind. I would sit there to watch storms roll in the distance, writing poetry or doing homework or what have you.”
Sasha nodded, acknowledging the picture I painted was the same as his Call. I nudged him, making him smile.
“But that day? I was having an awful time. Every year I dreaded the same thing, but I always escaped. This time, there was no more running. I was cornered, trapped. And the choice was before me. I stared across the ocean and cried. I said it as you heard. ‘I can’t do this. Please help me.’ I just wanted someone to get me out of that situation, but I wasn’t willing to ask for it again. I was so tired of disappointment.
So I’m sitting there in front of these hypnotic flames singing to myself, trying to shake off those bad spirits. Couldn’t even write a poem about my own despair.”
“Impossible. I refuse to believe such nonsense,” he said, chuckling.
“Shocking, I know,” I agreed, smiling. “That’s when I heard a thunderstorm on the horizon. At least there was that, I thought. My greatest comfort to cheer me.
I’m listening to that distant storm, but there were no clouds, no darkness, no strike of lightning. It puzzled me.
But the sky. Oh Sasha, that was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. The same wonderful night sky you saw. It was brighter than normal, like fire and roses and gold melding with the sea. I have never seen a more beautiful place for the Goddess to drift into slumber.
I stood up and looked around. Further down the beach people were still going into the water, chatting, lazing about, like nothing was happening. Like this gorgeous sky and this distant storm did not exist.
Then I heard this voice. It was faint. Super faint. But so deep—“ I patted his chest, now knowing it was him. “Your voice; you said those words to me such that my soul was contented.”
“Calm your spirit and be at peace. Whatever you feel, just let it exist. Let it be,” he repeated quietly. “I live by these words. I acknowledge the feelings and emotions, the pain and joy, that exist in me, that often loom before me. The negative ones will not simply vanish because I ignore them. Sometimes it is easy to face them. And sometimes it is so, so hard, Leila. So hard it feels impossible. But I try, still.”
“And your way of facing your emotions is the truth. I did as you suggested that night; the intense sorrow I felt was for a reason, for many reasons. And I just let all that sorrow unfold so I could face it. Your words were like a warm hug in the midst of my despair. Thank you.”
“You are always welcome,” he said, stroking my face. “Go on.”
“After that, I stayed out there all night. The storm never showed itself, but only grew louder. It’s like it rolled only for me. And it did, didn’t it?
I slept out there under the stars that night. Didn’t care about school. Didn’t care about anyone or anything. Your voice of peace washed away all my worries. So after that I just sang as the thunder peeled, and I did so all evening and into the night. I started singing to you specifically after that. Joyously. I broke out my best numbers,” I said. I covered my face, cracking up.
He laughed quietly. “Indeed; as I said, what I could discern was beautiful.”
I uncovered my face and smiled. “Thank you,” I said. I sighed, reaching my tale’s conclusion. “The next day I felt like I had come out of a deep meditation. Like the sorrow of yesterday did not exist. I had hoped to the Sun that your voice was the Answer to what troubled me. Then your voice stopped for a time. Until today.”
2024.06.02 02:16 AlkibiadesDabrowski Meet the Romanovs
Dear alexei I’m sorry the tsar is your father, let me be honest
It take a man to be a man, your dad is not responsive
I look at him and wish the khan would’ve wore a condom
I'm sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him
Life is hard, I know, history is always gon' beat it’s tune
Sometimes our parents make mistakes that affect us until we grown
And you're a good kid that need good leadership Let me be your mentor since your daddy don't teach you shit
Never exploit your fellow man son
Either you join the movement or meet the dustbin son
Never fall into the semi feudal business, that's bad ideology
Please remember, you could be a bitch even if you got bitches
Never hide your aims, whether bourg or prol, you your own man
Even if it don't benefit your self, do some push-ups, get some discipline
Don't suppress people like your daddy did, fuck what Tzarism did
Don't pay to play with them Cossack’s get a gym membership
Understand, no throwin' bombs and hidin' hands, that's adventurism
Don't be ashamed 'bout who you with, that's bourgeoisie family shit
Don't have a kid to make an heir to rule again, be sure Five percent will exploit, but 95 are prols
Be different than your father, your strength come from within
Lotta stars that progressive but your daddy ain't one of them And you nothing like him, you'll carry yourself comrade
Can't understand me right now? Just play this when you 18
Dear, Maria Your son got some habits, I hope you don't undermine them
Especially with all the prols that's hurt inside this climate
You a woman, so you know how it feels to be alienated
You complicit, hopin' the world can stay the same and plebs stay blinded
Dear Alexander you gave birth to a master manipulator
Even using you to prove who he is, is a huge favor I think you should be killed as well, and your father and his father, and his father
I'm blaming you for all his religious fixations
Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim
You raised a horrible fucking person, the nerve of you, Alexander
Maria, sit down, what I'm about to say is heavy, now listen
Mm-mm, your son's a sick man with sick thoughts, I think tyrants like him should die
Him and Weinstein should get fucked up in a cell for the rest they life
He hates prols, peasants, terrorizes'em with iron boot and secret police
Grew facial hair because he understood bein' a beard just fit him better
He got sex offenders on Okhrana that he keep on a monthly allowance
A child should never be compromised and he keepin' his kids around them
And we gotta raise our children knowin' there's predators like him lurkin'
Fuck a rap battle, he should die so all of these people can live with a purpose
I been in this industry 28 years, I'ma tell y'all one lil' secret
It's some weird shit goin' on and some of these bourgeois be here to police it
They be streamlinin' victims all inside of they home and callin' 'em tender
Then pass reform on themselves to further push their agendas
To any worker that be loyal to his state, know that you're playin' your own class
Or better, you're sellin' your kids to the weirdos, not the good ones
Mr. Karl Marx said, "Get you the truth, " so I'ma get mines
Winter Palace 'bout to get raided, too, it's only a matter of time
Ayy, Workers, keep the family away, hey, Prols, keep the family away
To anybody that embody with love for they kids, keep the family away
They lookin' at you too if you standin' by him, keep the family away
I'm lookin' to shoot through any tyrant that lives, keep the family safe
Dear, Anastasia I'm sorry that your father not active inside your world
He don't commit to much but his rule, yeah, that's for sure
He a narcissist, misogynist, livin' inside his laws Try’n destroy families rather than takin' care of his own
Should be teachin' you timetables or watchin' operas with you
Or at your sixteenth birthday singin' poems with you
Instead, he at the front gettin' prols killed and downing' vodka, examples that you don't deserve
I wanna tell you that you're loved, you're brave, you're kind
You got a gift to change the world, and could change your father's mind
'Cause our children is the future, but he lives inside confusion
Money's always been illusion, but that's the life he's used to
His father prolly didn't claim him neither History do repeats itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce
But I would like to say it's not your fault that he's killing' other kids
Give him grace, this the reason I wrote “What is to be Done” So our babies like you can cope later
Give you some confidence to go through somethin', it's hope later
I never wanna hear you chase a buck 'cause his failed behavior
Sittin' in the factory with capitalists for validation You need to know that class should be abolished the state ended
I'll tell you who your father is, just play this song when it rains
Yes, he's a, exploiter, prol killer, mega tyrant, right And a fuckin' deadbeat that should never say "more life"
Meet the Grahams
Dear, Nicholas I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party
But truthfully, It’s the forces of history, that’s moving my body
This supposed to be a good development within the game
But you fucked up the moment you resisted the real movements aims.
Why you had to stoop so low to oppress some decent people?
Guess intelligence is lost when the theory doesn't reach you
And I like to understand 'cause your house was never a home
49, but you showin' up as a seven-year-old You got gamblin' problems, drinkin' problems, pill-poppin' and spendin' problems
Bad with money, cuckhold
Solicitin' capital problems, therapy's a lovely start But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom
I try to empathize with you 'cause I know that you ain't been through nothin'
Crave entitlement, but wanna be liked so bad that it's puzzlin'
No dominance, let's recap moments when you didn't fit in
No secret handshakes with your friend No cultural cachet to binge, just disrespectin' your mother
Identity's on the fence, don't know which family will love ya
The skin that you livin' in is compromised in personas
Can't channel your masculine even when standin' next to a woman
You an autocrat, you gon' suppress the workers and peasants, ain't ya?
You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us
Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under that incompetence
Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in
'Cause you lied about religious views, you lied about the war effort
You lied about your accent and your past tense, all is perjury
You lied about the duma and reforms, you lied about your government
They all pussy, you lied on 'em, I know they all got you in 'em
You lied about your son, you lied about your daughter, huh
You lied to them other kids that's out there hopin' their dads come home
You lied about the only comrade that can offer you some help
Fuck a rap battle, this a long life battle with yourself
submitted by AlkibiadesDabrowski to Ultraleft [link] [comments]
It take a man to be a man, your dad is not responsive
I look at him and wish the khan would’ve wore a condom
I'm sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him
Life is hard, I know, history is always gon' beat it’s tune
Sometimes our parents make mistakes that affect us until we grown
And you're a good kid that need good leadership Let me be your mentor since your daddy don't teach you shit
Never exploit your fellow man son
Either you join the movement or meet the dustbin son
Never fall into the semi feudal business, that's bad ideology
Please remember, you could be a bitch even if you got bitches
Never hide your aims, whether bourg or prol, you your own man
Even if it don't benefit your self, do some push-ups, get some discipline
Don't suppress people like your daddy did, fuck what Tzarism did
Don't pay to play with them Cossack’s get a gym membership
Understand, no throwin' bombs and hidin' hands, that's adventurism
Don't be ashamed 'bout who you with, that's bourgeoisie family shit
Don't have a kid to make an heir to rule again, be sure Five percent will exploit, but 95 are prols
Be different than your father, your strength come from within
Lotta stars that progressive but your daddy ain't one of them And you nothing like him, you'll carry yourself comrade
Can't understand me right now? Just play this when you 18
Dear, Maria Your son got some habits, I hope you don't undermine them
Especially with all the prols that's hurt inside this climate
You a woman, so you know how it feels to be alienated
You complicit, hopin' the world can stay the same and plebs stay blinded
Dear Alexander you gave birth to a master manipulator
Even using you to prove who he is, is a huge favor I think you should be killed as well, and your father and his father, and his father
I'm blaming you for all his religious fixations
Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim
You raised a horrible fucking person, the nerve of you, Alexander
Maria, sit down, what I'm about to say is heavy, now listen
Mm-mm, your son's a sick man with sick thoughts, I think tyrants like him should die
Him and Weinstein should get fucked up in a cell for the rest they life
He hates prols, peasants, terrorizes'em with iron boot and secret police
Grew facial hair because he understood bein' a beard just fit him better
He got sex offenders on Okhrana that he keep on a monthly allowance
A child should never be compromised and he keepin' his kids around them
And we gotta raise our children knowin' there's predators like him lurkin'
Fuck a rap battle, he should die so all of these people can live with a purpose
I been in this industry 28 years, I'ma tell y'all one lil' secret
It's some weird shit goin' on and some of these bourgeois be here to police it
They be streamlinin' victims all inside of they home and callin' 'em tender
Then pass reform on themselves to further push their agendas
To any worker that be loyal to his state, know that you're playin' your own class
Or better, you're sellin' your kids to the weirdos, not the good ones
Mr. Karl Marx said, "Get you the truth, " so I'ma get mines
Winter Palace 'bout to get raided, too, it's only a matter of time
Ayy, Workers, keep the family away, hey, Prols, keep the family away
To anybody that embody with love for they kids, keep the family away
They lookin' at you too if you standin' by him, keep the family away
I'm lookin' to shoot through any tyrant that lives, keep the family safe
Dear, Anastasia I'm sorry that your father not active inside your world
He don't commit to much but his rule, yeah, that's for sure
He a narcissist, misogynist, livin' inside his laws Try’n destroy families rather than takin' care of his own
Should be teachin' you timetables or watchin' operas with you
Or at your sixteenth birthday singin' poems with you
Instead, he at the front gettin' prols killed and downing' vodka, examples that you don't deserve
I wanna tell you that you're loved, you're brave, you're kind
You got a gift to change the world, and could change your father's mind
'Cause our children is the future, but he lives inside confusion
Money's always been illusion, but that's the life he's used to
His father prolly didn't claim him neither History do repeats itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce
But I would like to say it's not your fault that he's killing' other kids
Give him grace, this the reason I wrote “What is to be Done” So our babies like you can cope later
Give you some confidence to go through somethin', it's hope later
I never wanna hear you chase a buck 'cause his failed behavior
Sittin' in the factory with capitalists for validation You need to know that class should be abolished the state ended
I'll tell you who your father is, just play this song when it rains
Yes, he's a, exploiter, prol killer, mega tyrant, right And a fuckin' deadbeat that should never say "more life"
Meet the Grahams
Dear, Nicholas I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party
But truthfully, It’s the forces of history, that’s moving my body
This supposed to be a good development within the game
But you fucked up the moment you resisted the real movements aims.
Why you had to stoop so low to oppress some decent people?
Guess intelligence is lost when the theory doesn't reach you
And I like to understand 'cause your house was never a home
49, but you showin' up as a seven-year-old You got gamblin' problems, drinkin' problems, pill-poppin' and spendin' problems
Bad with money, cuckhold
Solicitin' capital problems, therapy's a lovely start But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom
I try to empathize with you 'cause I know that you ain't been through nothin'
Crave entitlement, but wanna be liked so bad that it's puzzlin'
No dominance, let's recap moments when you didn't fit in
No secret handshakes with your friend No cultural cachet to binge, just disrespectin' your mother
Identity's on the fence, don't know which family will love ya
The skin that you livin' in is compromised in personas
Can't channel your masculine even when standin' next to a woman
You an autocrat, you gon' suppress the workers and peasants, ain't ya?
You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us
Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under that incompetence
Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in
'Cause you lied about religious views, you lied about the war effort
You lied about your accent and your past tense, all is perjury
You lied about the duma and reforms, you lied about your government
They all pussy, you lied on 'em, I know they all got you in 'em
You lied about your son, you lied about your daughter, huh
You lied to them other kids that's out there hopin' their dads come home
You lied about the only comrade that can offer you some help
Fuck a rap battle, this a long life battle with yourself
2024.06.02 00:21 Top_Lime1820 South African Democracy Must Prevail Again
In this post, I want to outline what the next week or two could entail - positive and negative - for South Africa. I also want to give a bit of context on some of what will happen and how it should be interpreted.
South Africa is a young, vibrant, healthy democracy.
Our institutions were designed brilliantly (by copying prior work, thanks for that guys), that if you observe it carefully, you can see the democracy working itself out logically:
Lastly, despite what all the naysayers have been saying for 30 years, and with the notable exception of the failure to arrest Omar al-Bashir on ICC charges, the South Africa state as a whole has never just blatantly ignored procedures and laws. Slow-walking, yes. Loopholes - like hell yes. But we disinvited Putin to South Africa because we couldn't find a way out of it. We've arrested a former President and the Speaker had to resign to face corruption charges. We're not Zimbabwe, despite what people think.
Instead, what is actually happening is we have been paying the price for our democracy.
I have spent the last year exploring the last 30 years of our democratic history. And one thing I have consistently found is that many of South Africa's problems could've been avoided if key actors abrogated to themselves rights and powers beyond what the Constitution provides:
We are compared unfavourably against countries which, very often, did not actually develop in a liberal democratic way. They took the authoritarian shortcut / benevolent dictator and liberals just like the fact that it worked out 3 or 4 times in countries like Singapore and South Korea.
This might be a bit whiny/self-pitying, but I have started to feel as if we are being judged for actually trying to write the exam and failing sometimes whilst being compared to people who never really even registered to write it. Or, in the case of Western democracies, who also failed miserably in the past but whose failures are forgotten or ignored. And in the case of the United States, I must admit it is extremely discouraging to see the double standard from liberal voices that emerges from almost perfectly parallel situations. Trump is a "test" of "the American idea" which "though bent, proved itself to be secure" and "something we can recover from" because "democracy is an experiment" and "the price of freedom is eternal vigilance" but "we shall overcome". But South Africa is a basket case any time something goes wrong. People remember the horrific unrest of the 2021 unrest but leave out the part where we arrested a former head of state which is what a precipitated it.
Lastly, it is somewhat discouraging when people are unable to notice what doesn't happen. Nobody notices that the money printers aren't starting up and the opposition isn't in jail and most ethnic groups haven't formed ethnic parties and Putin didn't come in the end and we're still in the ICC and ICJ system and white South Africans still have not been ethnically cleansed even though the internet seems to think it happened 10 years ago and on and on... There's a list of doomer takes that began the minute Mandela was released and most of them haven't come true - but nobody seems to even keep track that people have been wrong for 30 years. After 30 years of being wrong, maybe they'll be right this time. Sure. But you don't get to be smug and say "I knew it" when you were wrong for 30 years.
While many of my fellow South Africans practise the bizarre South African exceptionalism of believing only we struggle with corruption, incompetence and bigotry, I have lately come to understand that this is what democracy looks like. At least at first. Just wait until we start to get the returns on the messiness that comes with freedom, diversity and a commitment to a modest humanistic project.
So, all this is to say something very simply. If shit doesn't hit the fan and a new President is elected democratically, please notice that we actually did it. Please don't shift the goalposts yet again.
But if things do go south, then you need to back us. I have been frightened of the prospect that there is a challenge to the democratic transfer of power, and the democratic world steps back just because they don't like the incumbents because of this or that disagreement. But the ANC, for all its failures, remains a party which in its original incarnation was not only 'Western', but, in particular, it is a direct descendent of the great democratic tradition of the African American population.
American Heritage
This history has been lost to common memory, but it is waiting for you in the history books. African Americans from Booker T. Washington to Martin Luther King Jr. were a real and influential force within the genesis of the early ANC. It's not that the ANC founders simply read their works. No. The "Man Who Founded the ANC" graduated from Columbia and befriended Alaine Locke, the gay father of the Harlem Renaissance. His co-founders were all enthralled by the gigantic influence of Booker T. Washington, and attempted to replicate his Tuskegee Institute in KZN. The man who first reformed the ANC from a period of stagnation studied at Tuskegee and Northwestern, and, not only that, but married an American woman named Madie Hall. And Luthuli and King were mutual admirers. Mandela inspired Obama into politics, Mandela gave him his blessing when he became a senator, and just a few short years later Obama eulogized Mandela in the way that only Obama could.
The corruption of the ANC is the corruption of one of the proudest and most beautiful heritages not just of Black liberals, but of anybody who believes in liberal democracy. It should not be dismissed. It should hurt deeply. But that heritage can outlive the ANC in the South African Constitution. This same Constitution has finally come under direct and explicit assault.
Global Heritage
This is your heritage. South Africa is like a garden of so many of the great ideas of global liberal democracy. It was the fertile soil in which the seed of Gandhi's Satyagraha first germinated. Through the liberal Helen Suzman and the radical Bram Fischer, it is the inheritor of the proud Jewish tradition of advocating for human rights. Scottish, German and American missionaries educated the broader black intellectual class beyond the ANC. English-speaking settlers, for all their sins, introduced abolition and one of the world's first explicitly non-racial Constitution here in the 1850s. It was a flawed Afrikaner hero and genius who founded the League of Nations, and launched the project of building an international system to regulate global affairs. And all these united together under the leadership of Mandela and Tutu, infused deeply with native African philosophical ideas of Ubuntu, to bring to end a terrible conflict with minimal bloodshed, and through truth and reconciliation.
I've slipped into full on South African exceptionalism now. But I don't care because either I'll be proven right in two weeks or I'll be proven wrong, and I want to enjoy these ideals while I still can. Because in the world that would come after, I'll have much bigger things to worry about.
I don't mean to alarm anybody, but even if the next two weeks go by without a hitch, that will only be a testament to an enormous amount of behind the scenes work to prevent catastrophe. Democracy is not free. None of us can be so foolish as to miss the moment that South Africa is in. Transitions like this are never unchallenged, not with all that's at stake for those who lose once the full might of the Constitutional order finally kicks in.
The idea that "Nothing ever happens" has been thoroughly defeated at the ballot box. It's over. There's no going back. The results of the election mean that there is no political coalition for 'managed decline' any more. It's up or out.
I want to end this with a link to one of the most beautiful speeches ever delivered by a South African orator. If you only have a few minutes, then you can watched the abridged version set to patriotic music. But consider the historical moment that we're in. Maybe it's worth it taking 45 minutes to play the full version of the speech in the background. The speech is I Am An African by Thabo Mbeki, delivered at the signing of the Constitution in 1996.
submitted by Top_Lime1820 to neoliberal [link] [comments]
Next Steps
How exactly will the new President be elected?- The Independent Electoral Commission is set to release the official results tomorrow
- This kicks off a Constitutionally mandated timer - the Chief Justice must announce when the first sitting of Parliament must happen; but no later than two weeks after tomorrow
- At the first sitting of Parliament, all MPs can nominate someone from amongst their peers to be President (really should be called a Prime Minister)
- They vote on a secret ballot, whoever gets the fewest votes drops out and they vote again until someone gets a majority of votes in the National Assembly (50% + 1)
- The Chief Justice presides over this process and then announces the results
- Possibly, but there will probably be some trouble
- The ANC is making the right noises about democracy and respect for the IEC - which is positive
- Many smaller opposition parties, especially in the Western Cape, are accusing the IEC of vote rigging in favour of the DA/ANC
- EFF have not said anything to my knowledge
- There are genuine issues with how the election was conducted. Even the DA is taking the IEC to court. But our local analyst here says that it was more of a screw up, and certainly not rigging or anything like that
- MK - which is the party which won the most from this process - have announced that they want a total re-do of the elections and have said that the IEC must not release results by tomorrow or 'there could be trouble'
South Africa is a young, vibrant, healthy democracy.
Our institutions were designed brilliantly (by copying prior work, thanks for that guys), that if you observe it carefully, you can see the democracy working itself out logically:
- The IEC don't really have a choice when to announce the results - they've committed to June 2nd publicly.
- Because we have a free media and the results were declared live with statistical projections, we can know that the results actually were highly unlikely to be tampered with.
- Once that happens, a different institution takes over - the Chief Justice. There's an uncertainty element - they have up to two weeks but they could announce the Presidential election for Thursday. At the latest, it'll happen on June 16th, Youth Day - the anniversary of the day that Hector Pieterson was killed in Soweto for standing up to Apartheid.
- Because power is spread out geographically, there is not a single point of attack to shut down proceedings. The IEC's operational center is in Johannesburg North. The Chief Justice is in Johannesburg South. Parliament, where the Election will take place is in Cape Town. And the seat of the executive government is in Pretoria.
- The work is broken down into specific roles and distributed to different actors. Independent courts can and will punish anybody who drops the potato. A former President has been arrested before. The precedent is set. Nobody is safe, especially now that nobody has a majority.
Lastly, despite what all the naysayers have been saying for 30 years, and with the notable exception of the failure to arrest Omar al-Bashir on ICC charges, the South Africa state as a whole has never just blatantly ignored procedures and laws. Slow-walking, yes. Loopholes - like hell yes. But we disinvited Putin to South Africa because we couldn't find a way out of it. We've arrested a former President and the Speaker had to resign to face corruption charges. We're not Zimbabwe, despite what people think.
Instead, what is actually happening is we have been paying the price for our democracy.
I have spent the last year exploring the last 30 years of our democratic history. And one thing I have consistently found is that many of South Africa's problems could've been avoided if key actors abrogated to themselves rights and powers beyond what the Constitution provides:
- Mandela did not seek a second term because he "dared not linger". He more or less withdrew from politics to prevent "Big Man" syndrome from taking root.
- President Mbeki fired Jacob Zuma when he was merely alleged to have committed corruption - putting Zuma's back against the wall.
- Judge Nicholson threw out Zuma's initial charges because he sincerely believed there was interference, rather than 'look the other way' because Zuma was 'obviously' guilty (innocent until proven guilty)
- The head of the Scorpions (anti-corruption unit started by Mbeki) refused to allow President Mbeki to delay the arrest of the allegedly corrupt head of the police because he sincerely felt it would be a betrayal of his duty whilst Mbeki had a credible cause for concern of a war within the law enforcement community - it was a genuine debate, not some banana republic hatch job
- Once Zuma was democratically elected President of the ANC, and the ANC democratically called back Mbeki, he resigned, rather than declare an emergency and do the whole 3rd term benevolent dictator thing
- People like the DA leadership and Thuli Madonsela (the Public Protector Zuma himself appointed) spent a decade fighting to get Zuma to face the music on corruption - and in the end the Ramaphosa faction pushed him out
- When Zuma defied the State Capture investigations, he was arrested even for something as 'mere' as contempt of court - and the police station carried out their duties as they would for anyone else. It cost us lives.
- Zuma did manage to dodge time, but he only did it through abuse of genuine provisions in the system for medical parole and through a loophole that the ANC found to prevent further violence
- Zuma has avoided his original corruption charges for years through multiple appeals - an abuse but a legitimate exercise of his democratic rights; the man has not been proven guilty in a court of law and we have to get him the right way
- Zuma was allowed to start his party in line with his democratic rights, when in other countries Ramaphosa would've just thrown him in jail - but the IEC stood up to Zuma and fought all the way to the Constitutional Court to prevent him from sitting as an MP (which would've allowed him to potentially be nominated for the Presidency) because of his criminal record - the arrest worked out even if he only did a month or two.
- This year, Zuma destroyed the ANC at the ballot box. Not the way many of us wanted the fall of the ANC to happen, but it is the will of millions of Zuma's supporters who are citizens of South Africa. It must be respected even if it inconvenient to acknowledge. And it will be respected - just not any more than the democratic rights of anyone else.
This Is What Democracy Looks Like
I've come to feel that many people who call themselves liberals don't really understand this.We are compared unfavourably against countries which, very often, did not actually develop in a liberal democratic way. They took the authoritarian shortcut / benevolent dictator and liberals just like the fact that it worked out 3 or 4 times in countries like Singapore and South Korea.
This might be a bit whiny/self-pitying, but I have started to feel as if we are being judged for actually trying to write the exam and failing sometimes whilst being compared to people who never really even registered to write it. Or, in the case of Western democracies, who also failed miserably in the past but whose failures are forgotten or ignored. And in the case of the United States, I must admit it is extremely discouraging to see the double standard from liberal voices that emerges from almost perfectly parallel situations. Trump is a "test" of "the American idea" which "though bent, proved itself to be secure" and "something we can recover from" because "democracy is an experiment" and "the price of freedom is eternal vigilance" but "we shall overcome". But South Africa is a basket case any time something goes wrong. People remember the horrific unrest of the 2021 unrest but leave out the part where we arrested a former head of state which is what a precipitated it.
Lastly, it is somewhat discouraging when people are unable to notice what doesn't happen. Nobody notices that the money printers aren't starting up and the opposition isn't in jail and most ethnic groups haven't formed ethnic parties and Putin didn't come in the end and we're still in the ICC and ICJ system and white South Africans still have not been ethnically cleansed even though the internet seems to think it happened 10 years ago and on and on... There's a list of doomer takes that began the minute Mandela was released and most of them haven't come true - but nobody seems to even keep track that people have been wrong for 30 years. After 30 years of being wrong, maybe they'll be right this time. Sure. But you don't get to be smug and say "I knew it" when you were wrong for 30 years.
While many of my fellow South Africans practise the bizarre South African exceptionalism of believing only we struggle with corruption, incompetence and bigotry, I have lately come to understand that this is what democracy looks like. At least at first. Just wait until we start to get the returns on the messiness that comes with freedom, diversity and a commitment to a modest humanistic project.
Why South Africa Should Matter to You
As I outlined in my piece, The South Africa Fallacy, it is deeply misguided to watch South Africa try and fail to execute the principles you advocate for the whole world and somehow feel as if our failure doesn't implicate you or cast real aspersions on your ideas. We are a diverse, open, tolerant, deeply liberal society and our aspirations to that liberal democracy is the source of our problems. MK's political theory - above and beyond supporting Jacob Zuma - is precisely that our Constitutional Democracy doesn't work.So, all this is to say something very simply. If shit doesn't hit the fan and a new President is elected democratically, please notice that we actually did it. Please don't shift the goalposts yet again.
But if things do go south, then you need to back us. I have been frightened of the prospect that there is a challenge to the democratic transfer of power, and the democratic world steps back just because they don't like the incumbents because of this or that disagreement. But the ANC, for all its failures, remains a party which in its original incarnation was not only 'Western', but, in particular, it is a direct descendent of the great democratic tradition of the African American population.
American Heritage
This history has been lost to common memory, but it is waiting for you in the history books. African Americans from Booker T. Washington to Martin Luther King Jr. were a real and influential force within the genesis of the early ANC. It's not that the ANC founders simply read their works. No. The "Man Who Founded the ANC" graduated from Columbia and befriended Alaine Locke, the gay father of the Harlem Renaissance. His co-founders were all enthralled by the gigantic influence of Booker T. Washington, and attempted to replicate his Tuskegee Institute in KZN. The man who first reformed the ANC from a period of stagnation studied at Tuskegee and Northwestern, and, not only that, but married an American woman named Madie Hall. And Luthuli and King were mutual admirers. Mandela inspired Obama into politics, Mandela gave him his blessing when he became a senator, and just a few short years later Obama eulogized Mandela in the way that only Obama could.
The corruption of the ANC is the corruption of one of the proudest and most beautiful heritages not just of Black liberals, but of anybody who believes in liberal democracy. It should not be dismissed. It should hurt deeply. But that heritage can outlive the ANC in the South African Constitution. This same Constitution has finally come under direct and explicit assault.
Global Heritage
This is your heritage. South Africa is like a garden of so many of the great ideas of global liberal democracy. It was the fertile soil in which the seed of Gandhi's Satyagraha first germinated. Through the liberal Helen Suzman and the radical Bram Fischer, it is the inheritor of the proud Jewish tradition of advocating for human rights. Scottish, German and American missionaries educated the broader black intellectual class beyond the ANC. English-speaking settlers, for all their sins, introduced abolition and one of the world's first explicitly non-racial Constitution here in the 1850s. It was a flawed Afrikaner hero and genius who founded the League of Nations, and launched the project of building an international system to regulate global affairs. And all these united together under the leadership of Mandela and Tutu, infused deeply with native African philosophical ideas of Ubuntu, to bring to end a terrible conflict with minimal bloodshed, and through truth and reconciliation.
I've slipped into full on South African exceptionalism now. But I don't care because either I'll be proven right in two weeks or I'll be proven wrong, and I want to enjoy these ideals while I still can. Because in the world that would come after, I'll have much bigger things to worry about.
I don't mean to alarm anybody, but even if the next two weeks go by without a hitch, that will only be a testament to an enormous amount of behind the scenes work to prevent catastrophe. Democracy is not free. None of us can be so foolish as to miss the moment that South Africa is in. Transitions like this are never unchallenged, not with all that's at stake for those who lose once the full might of the Constitutional order finally kicks in.
The idea that "Nothing ever happens" has been thoroughly defeated at the ballot box. It's over. There's no going back. The results of the election mean that there is no political coalition for 'managed decline' any more. It's up or out.
I want to end this with a link to one of the most beautiful speeches ever delivered by a South African orator. If you only have a few minutes, then you can watched the abridged version set to patriotic music. But consider the historical moment that we're in. Maybe it's worth it taking 45 minutes to play the full version of the speech in the background. The speech is I Am An African by Thabo Mbeki, delivered at the signing of the Constitution in 1996.
2024.06.02 00:19 truecrimeoklahoma "Monster hurt my Daddy"
In the very heart of bible country, nearly the buckle of the belt, is the state of Oklahoma. It was October in Oklahoma, leaves were changing color, and the heat was gone. The fall hunting season was already on its way to another good year turnout of hunters for Oklahoma.
The Oklahoma City Walmart was stocked to the brim with Halloween candy, costumes, and color hair spray as far as the eye could see. And there were always many little eyes alight with delight as Halloween was known as the signal for the “holidays”.
Children dream. The possibility of becoming a ninja, superhero, Greek goddess, or even the main villain out of that summer movie, the one that everyone had to see. You know that villain.
These Children were easily found anywhere costumes were to be had. It was nothing to see a little head bob up over the isle of half shelf, the ones that ran for acres. And in a very juvenile voice, one could hear the pleading, “Please, please mommy.” Spooky sounds playing over the k-mart speaker system. As costumes were picked out with love and a small giggle of fun. A giggle of fun Michael Rhodes would no longer be able to share with his children.
In September of 2012, Brittany Dillard, one of the seven nieces and nephews staying with Michael Rhodes, when Britanny was asked to leave. Her behavior had gotten out of control and the Rhodes’s felt she was being irresponsible to her baby, by dating a gang member, especially sense he was a Crip and she was not. Some of her other behavior had been less than lady like behavior outside the home.
Brittany felt she was the victim of this, and she hadn’t been given a chance to explain how things really were. But her auntie and uncle were not here foolishness. Both parties were very head strong. Maybe because they were related.
Michael Rhodes was a family man. The beautiful wife and four kids plus the seven nieces and nephews meant stretching the budget to make it all work. Sometimes there was a stretching of the patience too thin, a consequence, Ms. Dillard discovered.
Michael Rhodes was a family man, with a teddy bear heart when it came to his wife, four kids and 7 nieces and nephews. He didn’t tolerate any foolishness either, didn’t do anyone any good. His nieces and nephews had been the victim of a different crime altogether.
Having just been received back from the Watchful Eyes of DHS, they were just getting settled back into some kind of home life. With the “holidays” fast approaching, they were excited the costumes were out in the stores.
A phone call, to Brittany Dillard, one of the 7 Rhodes had taken in, would start the evening of October 19, 2012, and shattered lives.
On the late evening of Oct. 19. Driving into the neighborhood, members Dulxw women, a small group of the gang known as 107th Hoover Rolling Crips stop and get out of the car. Within just a few minutes, they had fired a weapon, slashed the tire of the family car, and threw rocks breaking two windows. No one was home at the time, much to the ire of the entire group. Then they left, they would go to call Fuston. Even though he rolled out of Enid, they were able to get him to Oklahoma City.
Brian Bulter went to Pennon’ s house before the incident took place. Bulter had ridden with Howard. Bulter had agreed to “rob some Mexicans”, but then he got to help kill an innocent person and nearly his daughter.
The police were called and there was a small investigation conducted. Without any evidence, there was not much that could be done.
For the safety of the children, Rhodes had the children picked up. Brittany was asked to leave as well. This was concerning the drama she had brought upon their household.
Brittany called and went to stay with Mrs. O’Neal, the maternal grandmother of Brittany’s baby.
On the evening of the Oct. 20t, Mrs. Rhodes had spent all day getting harassing phone calls from the women of Dulxw. Mrs. Rhodes repeatedly told them; Brittany was not there. The land line just rang with call all from these women. After it seemed to finally die down, Mrs. Rhodes and her daughter left the house to go to dinner. They wouldn’t even reach the place they were headed out the next evening with her friends to get a little rest from the ongoing drama dropped at her doorstep. She left her youngest daughter and her 19-year-old son, Jalan at home with their father.
That night late on the evening of the 20th, Fuston and his crew rolled up on Rhodes’s house in two cars. Ronnie Fuston was impulsive, angry, and looking for another chance to kill. This Dillard woman fit the bill no matter what, but they all had to die, according to Fuston.
Ronnie Fuston, Terral Howard, butler, pennon, and Jordan crept up in the thick darkness. Anothy brown JR was told to remain in the car, according to court documents. The darkness of the neighborhood added to their stealth. The car had not had its tires replaced and thus sat in the driveway for them to hide from line of sight of the front door. It would only take a second for Fuston’s hot raging impulses to kick in. He ran for the door at a full barrel roar. With the other in tow, he kicked in the front door to find Rhodes on the couch half asleep with Rhodes three-year-old on his chest. The first hit was in the shoulder of Rhodes, the blood spattered on his toddler. The noise and the blood woke her, Rhodes dropping her on the couch behind him in protection. She screamed and cried, covering her ears.
Rhodes never had a chance to react as two more bullets struck him. Everyone else had fired wildly hitting nothing. They didn’t search the house, had they, they would have found Rhodes’ 19-year-old son, Jalan.
They ran out leaving the door wide open. Hearing the shots, neighbors were stepping out to see what happened, one neighbor would see Fuston speed away. She would later tell the police she saw it only leaving and didn’t have anything else.
Having heard the gunshots, Jalan had been playing video games in his room. He ran into the living room. Jalan found the door open and that his dad was on the floor up against the couch. He helps sit his father up and called 911. As he did, he snatched up his little sister.
Jalan tried to wipe some of the blood from face as he held his phone with his free hand. He had sat her on the edge of the couch so he could see both her and his father.
Rhodes was holding his son’s hand as he lay there and bled out. His eyes went dark as Jalan didn’t know if and how to do CPR. For Christ’s sake, he was just a kid!
When the police arrived at the scene, Mr. Rhodes was deceased. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital where he was officially pronounced. His wife and children were thrown into the middle of chaos and Mrs. Rhodes blamed Brittany for her bad choices and what she had done to bring this tragedy down on them.
This is not where this story ends. Things would take the road not taken with full knowledge of the consequences
The police would question every family member to see what they could learn. They even decided to question the three-year-old daughter. All she could tell them was, “monsters hurt my daddy.” This broke a lot of hearts. This child was fatherless, and the worst part, she was in his ears when Mr. Rhodes was murdered. When she was questioned, she was still wearing her father’s blood.
Jalan hadn’t seen the actual incident. This made his mother very thankful, and she praised God. She would praise him for saving her son and daughter again when hearing in court that Fuston wanted them all dead.
Fuston drove back to Enid with Butler, there would be no victory had in the split between Brittany and Dulxw Women. During the drive Fuston changed his cell phone number. Now did he change it to run from the murder or run from the girls, after a botched hit. It was time to cool his heels for a bit.
Butler told him on the ride back this murder was going to come back to haunt him. Fuston just shrugged it off. Either way, Fuston had the confidence of a gambling addict as he told butler confidently, that girl won’t testify.
For about a month, there was nothing in the investigation. But it had not grown cold.
Minor thefts and other minor offenses had been occurred. Nothing to really raise an alarm. Just the way it was designed to be by this “Lil’ thug that couldn’t.”
One night in December, thinking his murder of Rhodes was over for him, he continued his thug life just the way he liked it. After all, it was Oklahoma City, there are NY style clubs and women.
In 2012, Trelon Haley, Anthony Brown, Donta Young, and Ivan Williamson were all friends. They spent a great deal of time hanging out in “the Ville.” And often were found at the Martson Sisters or Judd Julian. When not there, they could be found at a vacant lot near Fuston’s mother’s old home.
This vacant lot was one of the places used to keep a cache of weapons. This was the place they stowed.
In October, around the time of the Rhodes murder, Fuston found himself at his cousin’s house, Judd Julian, where Fuston was using Judd’s computer to surf Facebook. Fuston found a picture of someone named “Marciano,” with a wad of cash in his gob.
He told Judd that he was going to “hit a lick” which meant he wanted to go kill someone. Judd didn’t take him seriously at the time.
On the evening of December 22nd, 2012, Fuston decided he was going to get that money from “Marciano”. Fuston load Haley, young, brown, into the car. Haley drover. Fuston was sitting in the passenger seat, leaving the other two in the back. Fuston gave directions to Haley, he drove.
The location that Fuston directed Haley to, was a trailer home.
The four crept up, the darkness of the trailer court holding their shadows in secret. Haley was on one side of the door, brown and young on the other. When Fuston knocked, he used his best Hispanic voice and called out to behind the door.
Crites was home sick for work today and was certainly home when his unwelcome guests arrived. Crites opened the door, when he saw who it was, he tried to close it. Fuston’s name and face were all over the news, and not to mention they all lived in Enid together. Fuston prevented him from closing the door by placing his arm in between the door and the facing.
Fuston fired his gun into the trailer house. Crites had been hit with such a wild shot, that luck was not on his side, and Fuston shoved his way in, taking his cohorts with him. Crites was hit in the shoulder. When Brown and Young entered the trailer, Crites was holding his left shoulder with his right hand. Both walked past the scene and moved to toss the bedrooms.
Crites swore he had nothing. Angry, Fuston yelled at him and shoved him on his back. Fuston had taken the stance, rigidly over Crites in a fashion one might find a police officer standing over a suspected and again he screamed at Crites. “where’s the stuff? Where’s the money?”
Crites held his palm up to prove he wasn’t a threat. All Crites could do was think about his loving wife, Kelly Churchill. He loved her so much and was hoping, praying in his head they would just leave. “I don’t have anything, please don’t hurt met.”
Moments later, while searching for the bedrooms for drugs, and money, Young would hear shots ring out, as he later testified. Young left the residence after finding nothing in the bedrooms and heard one or two more gunshots.
They were all back at the car and moved out of there quickly. Haley was driving. The shots woke neighbors and at least one resident was able to make out the car as it sped away.
The ride back quiet, when the events just happened were brought up, Fuston said, “it was self-explanartory.”
Fuston couldn’t help himself not long after the murder of Rhodes was already bragging about it with the pride of a newborn’s father. Later when Crites was killed again with the chest thumping. This would not be his downfall, come on, it’s Oklahoma we all gossip.
Between 1:30 and 2:00 am, Churchill could not reach Crites by phone. He was late picking her up from work. Churchill caught a right home with two co-workers. She was taken to a house with all the lights on and the front door was standing wide open. Churchill ran up to the trailer home and walked inside. She found Crites lying in the middle of his own blood. Churchill called Crites’ boss then 911.
Sgt. Nick John with the Enid police department received the call around 2:18 AM. He was called to the residence of Crites regarding a homicide at his address. When Sgt. John arrived at the scene, Churchill was hysterical.
Through the hiccupping sobs, Churchill told the Sargent what she had found. Sergeant John went inside the residence and checked Crites for a pulse. He had none, there were others in the home at the time, Sargent ordered everyone out.
Tommy Rose, an evidence tech with Enid police department was called in around 5 am. Rose recovered 10 .45 caliber shells casing from the Trailer House. Rose submitted these to the Oklahoma Bureau of investigations for test.
The state medical would work on Christmas eve to complete the autopsy on Crites. Crites suffer eleven gunshot wounds in total. The Bullets recovered from the left arm, pubic bone, and the spine. The cause of death was ruled a homicide.
Sometime just after Christmas Williamson was walking with Fuston down to the store. Fuston asked if Williams had heard of the Columbia Street murder. When Wilson indicated he did and pointed to himself and looking crazy. Fuston said he went to somebody’s house, disguised his voice as Hispanic, when the man opens the door, Fuston fired.
January 9th, 2013, Fuston was jailed on an unrelated charge. During a phone call to Haley, he was head telling Haley to get rid of the hammers.
Williamson went to the house on Wabash, where the vacant lot was. He then called a gentleman by the area of Oakley. Williamson would then send Haley a Facebook message letting him know the gun had gone.
On January 11th the Enid Police contacted Oakley and informed him he had possibly received stolen property. After speaking with his attorney, Oakly gave him the .45 Taurus, purchased from Williamson.
During the summer of 2013, Judd Julian, was with Young, brown, Haley. While together young told Julian about the Crites murder. Julian would later testify about what Young.
All of which landed Ronnie Fuston on death row and a child without her daddy.
submitted by truecrimeoklahoma to Truecrimesokie [link] [comments]
The Oklahoma City Walmart was stocked to the brim with Halloween candy, costumes, and color hair spray as far as the eye could see. And there were always many little eyes alight with delight as Halloween was known as the signal for the “holidays”.
Children dream. The possibility of becoming a ninja, superhero, Greek goddess, or even the main villain out of that summer movie, the one that everyone had to see. You know that villain.
These Children were easily found anywhere costumes were to be had. It was nothing to see a little head bob up over the isle of half shelf, the ones that ran for acres. And in a very juvenile voice, one could hear the pleading, “Please, please mommy.” Spooky sounds playing over the k-mart speaker system. As costumes were picked out with love and a small giggle of fun. A giggle of fun Michael Rhodes would no longer be able to share with his children.
In September of 2012, Brittany Dillard, one of the seven nieces and nephews staying with Michael Rhodes, when Britanny was asked to leave. Her behavior had gotten out of control and the Rhodes’s felt she was being irresponsible to her baby, by dating a gang member, especially sense he was a Crip and she was not. Some of her other behavior had been less than lady like behavior outside the home.
Brittany felt she was the victim of this, and she hadn’t been given a chance to explain how things really were. But her auntie and uncle were not here foolishness. Both parties were very head strong. Maybe because they were related.
Michael Rhodes was a family man. The beautiful wife and four kids plus the seven nieces and nephews meant stretching the budget to make it all work. Sometimes there was a stretching of the patience too thin, a consequence, Ms. Dillard discovered.
Michael Rhodes was a family man, with a teddy bear heart when it came to his wife, four kids and 7 nieces and nephews. He didn’t tolerate any foolishness either, didn’t do anyone any good. His nieces and nephews had been the victim of a different crime altogether.
Having just been received back from the Watchful Eyes of DHS, they were just getting settled back into some kind of home life. With the “holidays” fast approaching, they were excited the costumes were out in the stores.
A phone call, to Brittany Dillard, one of the 7 Rhodes had taken in, would start the evening of October 19, 2012, and shattered lives.
On the late evening of Oct. 19. Driving into the neighborhood, members Dulxw women, a small group of the gang known as 107th Hoover Rolling Crips stop and get out of the car. Within just a few minutes, they had fired a weapon, slashed the tire of the family car, and threw rocks breaking two windows. No one was home at the time, much to the ire of the entire group. Then they left, they would go to call Fuston. Even though he rolled out of Enid, they were able to get him to Oklahoma City.
Brian Bulter went to Pennon’ s house before the incident took place. Bulter had ridden with Howard. Bulter had agreed to “rob some Mexicans”, but then he got to help kill an innocent person and nearly his daughter.
The police were called and there was a small investigation conducted. Without any evidence, there was not much that could be done.
For the safety of the children, Rhodes had the children picked up. Brittany was asked to leave as well. This was concerning the drama she had brought upon their household.
Brittany called and went to stay with Mrs. O’Neal, the maternal grandmother of Brittany’s baby.
On the evening of the Oct. 20t, Mrs. Rhodes had spent all day getting harassing phone calls from the women of Dulxw. Mrs. Rhodes repeatedly told them; Brittany was not there. The land line just rang with call all from these women. After it seemed to finally die down, Mrs. Rhodes and her daughter left the house to go to dinner. They wouldn’t even reach the place they were headed out the next evening with her friends to get a little rest from the ongoing drama dropped at her doorstep. She left her youngest daughter and her 19-year-old son, Jalan at home with their father.
That night late on the evening of the 20th, Fuston and his crew rolled up on Rhodes’s house in two cars. Ronnie Fuston was impulsive, angry, and looking for another chance to kill. This Dillard woman fit the bill no matter what, but they all had to die, according to Fuston.
Ronnie Fuston, Terral Howard, butler, pennon, and Jordan crept up in the thick darkness. Anothy brown JR was told to remain in the car, according to court documents. The darkness of the neighborhood added to their stealth. The car had not had its tires replaced and thus sat in the driveway for them to hide from line of sight of the front door. It would only take a second for Fuston’s hot raging impulses to kick in. He ran for the door at a full barrel roar. With the other in tow, he kicked in the front door to find Rhodes on the couch half asleep with Rhodes three-year-old on his chest. The first hit was in the shoulder of Rhodes, the blood spattered on his toddler. The noise and the blood woke her, Rhodes dropping her on the couch behind him in protection. She screamed and cried, covering her ears.
Rhodes never had a chance to react as two more bullets struck him. Everyone else had fired wildly hitting nothing. They didn’t search the house, had they, they would have found Rhodes’ 19-year-old son, Jalan.
They ran out leaving the door wide open. Hearing the shots, neighbors were stepping out to see what happened, one neighbor would see Fuston speed away. She would later tell the police she saw it only leaving and didn’t have anything else.
Having heard the gunshots, Jalan had been playing video games in his room. He ran into the living room. Jalan found the door open and that his dad was on the floor up against the couch. He helps sit his father up and called 911. As he did, he snatched up his little sister.
Jalan tried to wipe some of the blood from face as he held his phone with his free hand. He had sat her on the edge of the couch so he could see both her and his father.
Rhodes was holding his son’s hand as he lay there and bled out. His eyes went dark as Jalan didn’t know if and how to do CPR. For Christ’s sake, he was just a kid!
When the police arrived at the scene, Mr. Rhodes was deceased. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital where he was officially pronounced. His wife and children were thrown into the middle of chaos and Mrs. Rhodes blamed Brittany for her bad choices and what she had done to bring this tragedy down on them.
This is not where this story ends. Things would take the road not taken with full knowledge of the consequences
The police would question every family member to see what they could learn. They even decided to question the three-year-old daughter. All she could tell them was, “monsters hurt my daddy.” This broke a lot of hearts. This child was fatherless, and the worst part, she was in his ears when Mr. Rhodes was murdered. When she was questioned, she was still wearing her father’s blood.
Jalan hadn’t seen the actual incident. This made his mother very thankful, and she praised God. She would praise him for saving her son and daughter again when hearing in court that Fuston wanted them all dead.
Fuston drove back to Enid with Butler, there would be no victory had in the split between Brittany and Dulxw Women. During the drive Fuston changed his cell phone number. Now did he change it to run from the murder or run from the girls, after a botched hit. It was time to cool his heels for a bit.
Butler told him on the ride back this murder was going to come back to haunt him. Fuston just shrugged it off. Either way, Fuston had the confidence of a gambling addict as he told butler confidently, that girl won’t testify.
For about a month, there was nothing in the investigation. But it had not grown cold.
Minor thefts and other minor offenses had been occurred. Nothing to really raise an alarm. Just the way it was designed to be by this “Lil’ thug that couldn’t.”
One night in December, thinking his murder of Rhodes was over for him, he continued his thug life just the way he liked it. After all, it was Oklahoma City, there are NY style clubs and women.
In 2012, Trelon Haley, Anthony Brown, Donta Young, and Ivan Williamson were all friends. They spent a great deal of time hanging out in “the Ville.” And often were found at the Martson Sisters or Judd Julian. When not there, they could be found at a vacant lot near Fuston’s mother’s old home.
This vacant lot was one of the places used to keep a cache of weapons. This was the place they stowed.
In October, around the time of the Rhodes murder, Fuston found himself at his cousin’s house, Judd Julian, where Fuston was using Judd’s computer to surf Facebook. Fuston found a picture of someone named “Marciano,” with a wad of cash in his gob.
He told Judd that he was going to “hit a lick” which meant he wanted to go kill someone. Judd didn’t take him seriously at the time.
On the evening of December 22nd, 2012, Fuston decided he was going to get that money from “Marciano”. Fuston load Haley, young, brown, into the car. Haley drover. Fuston was sitting in the passenger seat, leaving the other two in the back. Fuston gave directions to Haley, he drove.
The location that Fuston directed Haley to, was a trailer home.
The four crept up, the darkness of the trailer court holding their shadows in secret. Haley was on one side of the door, brown and young on the other. When Fuston knocked, he used his best Hispanic voice and called out to behind the door.
Crites was home sick for work today and was certainly home when his unwelcome guests arrived. Crites opened the door, when he saw who it was, he tried to close it. Fuston’s name and face were all over the news, and not to mention they all lived in Enid together. Fuston prevented him from closing the door by placing his arm in between the door and the facing.
Fuston fired his gun into the trailer house. Crites had been hit with such a wild shot, that luck was not on his side, and Fuston shoved his way in, taking his cohorts with him. Crites was hit in the shoulder. When Brown and Young entered the trailer, Crites was holding his left shoulder with his right hand. Both walked past the scene and moved to toss the bedrooms.
Crites swore he had nothing. Angry, Fuston yelled at him and shoved him on his back. Fuston had taken the stance, rigidly over Crites in a fashion one might find a police officer standing over a suspected and again he screamed at Crites. “where’s the stuff? Where’s the money?”
Crites held his palm up to prove he wasn’t a threat. All Crites could do was think about his loving wife, Kelly Churchill. He loved her so much and was hoping, praying in his head they would just leave. “I don’t have anything, please don’t hurt met.”
Moments later, while searching for the bedrooms for drugs, and money, Young would hear shots ring out, as he later testified. Young left the residence after finding nothing in the bedrooms and heard one or two more gunshots.
They were all back at the car and moved out of there quickly. Haley was driving. The shots woke neighbors and at least one resident was able to make out the car as it sped away.
The ride back quiet, when the events just happened were brought up, Fuston said, “it was self-explanartory.”
Fuston couldn’t help himself not long after the murder of Rhodes was already bragging about it with the pride of a newborn’s father. Later when Crites was killed again with the chest thumping. This would not be his downfall, come on, it’s Oklahoma we all gossip.
Between 1:30 and 2:00 am, Churchill could not reach Crites by phone. He was late picking her up from work. Churchill caught a right home with two co-workers. She was taken to a house with all the lights on and the front door was standing wide open. Churchill ran up to the trailer home and walked inside. She found Crites lying in the middle of his own blood. Churchill called Crites’ boss then 911.
Sgt. Nick John with the Enid police department received the call around 2:18 AM. He was called to the residence of Crites regarding a homicide at his address. When Sgt. John arrived at the scene, Churchill was hysterical.
Through the hiccupping sobs, Churchill told the Sargent what she had found. Sergeant John went inside the residence and checked Crites for a pulse. He had none, there were others in the home at the time, Sargent ordered everyone out.
Tommy Rose, an evidence tech with Enid police department was called in around 5 am. Rose recovered 10 .45 caliber shells casing from the Trailer House. Rose submitted these to the Oklahoma Bureau of investigations for test.
The state medical would work on Christmas eve to complete the autopsy on Crites. Crites suffer eleven gunshot wounds in total. The Bullets recovered from the left arm, pubic bone, and the spine. The cause of death was ruled a homicide.
Sometime just after Christmas Williamson was walking with Fuston down to the store. Fuston asked if Williams had heard of the Columbia Street murder. When Wilson indicated he did and pointed to himself and looking crazy. Fuston said he went to somebody’s house, disguised his voice as Hispanic, when the man opens the door, Fuston fired.
January 9th, 2013, Fuston was jailed on an unrelated charge. During a phone call to Haley, he was head telling Haley to get rid of the hammers.
Williamson went to the house on Wabash, where the vacant lot was. He then called a gentleman by the area of Oakley. Williamson would then send Haley a Facebook message letting him know the gun had gone.
On January 11th the Enid Police contacted Oakley and informed him he had possibly received stolen property. After speaking with his attorney, Oakly gave him the .45 Taurus, purchased from Williamson.
During the summer of 2013, Judd Julian, was with Young, brown, Haley. While together young told Julian about the Crites murder. Julian would later testify about what Young.
All of which landed Ronnie Fuston on death row and a child without her daddy.
2024.06.01 21:21 North_Prize_170 Departed Sibling Communicates after Death .
My Older Sister Passed away in March 2016, (Untimely), at around 10:00 a.m. She made it to the Hospital but was Brain dead, and basically on life support. My little sister & My Father made it Down town to the Hospital just in time to say Goodbye, before she was taken off of Life Support. I was still asleep a few miles away. She was taken to a Surgical Suite briefly to have Her Cornea's removed,(She was a donor), then she was taken Down stairs, out of the Hospital & to the Morgue in a different building, where she would be prepared for Cremation services. (There was no Autopsy, the C.O.D was Suicide).
A few hours later around 02:00 p.m, My sister (Whom passed away), her widowed Boyfriend got a random call on his Cell Phone, the caller I.D on his phone did not display a call #, Time, Area code, call duration or anything.... it just went straight to voicemail. He played the message on speaker and unbelievably, it was was my Sisters voice!! She was saying: "IT'S ME.....(and her name)!! Her voice sounded frantic almost and it sounded like she was under water! We, Sibling's & Widowed BF all heard it, and we all agreed it was her voice. How that call/message was made I WILL NEVER KNOW! She was in the Morgue, deceased!
This is just 1 (Paranormal) experience I have had in my life.... Maybe I'll blog about my Dog Sebastian who Passed away in 2018, but managed to make PHYSICAL CONTACT with me in spirit form once. R.I.P Sister! <3
submitted by North_Prize_170 to Paranormal [link] [comments]
A few hours later around 02:00 p.m, My sister (Whom passed away), her widowed Boyfriend got a random call on his Cell Phone, the caller I.D on his phone did not display a call #, Time, Area code, call duration or anything.... it just went straight to voicemail. He played the message on speaker and unbelievably, it was was my Sisters voice!! She was saying: "IT'S ME.....(and her name)!! Her voice sounded frantic almost and it sounded like she was under water! We, Sibling's & Widowed BF all heard it, and we all agreed it was her voice. How that call/message was made I WILL NEVER KNOW! She was in the Morgue, deceased!
This is just 1 (Paranormal) experience I have had in my life.... Maybe I'll blog about my Dog Sebastian who Passed away in 2018, but managed to make PHYSICAL CONTACT with me in spirit form once. R.I.P Sister! <3
2024.06.01 20:40 CatPooedInMyShoe “Pt didn’t follow doctors orders” regarding his heart disease apparently
 | submitted by CatPooedInMyShoe to DeathCertificates [link] [comments] |
2024.06.01 19:49 Snoo_90160 Older brother of 9/11 victim disappeared without a trace in 1979. Over 40 years have gone by without answers. The forgotten and obscure disappearance of Mark Allen Collman.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language and this is my second real post. Apologies for miany mistakes.
Over a year ago a YouTube video about the artwork destroyed in the September 11 attacks rekindled my interest in 9/11. I started reading about the attacks, the events surrounding them, the people involved in the events, as well as WTC complex itself: its history, its architecture, its features and its layout. I was already aware of first responders' fight for health benefits and the health conditions that could arise from the exposure to the remains of WTC. Now I learned that some of the same-sex partners of the victims were denied survivor benefits and had to fight for them in court. One such person was Keith Bradkowski. He was considered ineligible for survivor benefits, as the airlines at the time did not recognize domestic partnerships. His partner was Jeffrey Dwayne Collman. Collman was a flight attendant aboard American Airlines Flight 11 who lost his life, when the terrorists flew it into the World Trade Center. The interview mostly concerned Keith's crusade for the recognition, survivor benefits and changes in the inheritance laws, so I decided to look for additional information about Jeff's life. I found another older interview with Keith, article about Jeff's parents (or rather his father and stepmother) and Jeff's Find a Grave profile. He was born in 1959, was 41 at the time of his death and lived in Novato, California, but was originally from Yorkville, Illinois. Keith was his partner of 11 years. His parents divorced when he was a child, and it broke the family. Before his father remarried, he lived with some other relatives. He had three brothers (I later found out that he had many more siblings). One predeceased him. This brother's name was Mark Allen Collman. According to Find a Grave he was born in 1957 and died in 1979. The fact that this family lost two young sons, one of them the deadliest terrorist attack in history, made me understandably sad. I opened Mark's profile. He was born on July 22. 1957 in Aurora, Illinois. The date of his death was 1979, with no day and month. His profile's description read: "Cenotaph for man missing since April 3, 1979." I was even more sad, but as a true crime buff I was also intrigued. I set out to find all the info that I can get about his disappearance. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot written about it. It's coverage seems to be minimal. No newspaper articles, no podcasts, no documentaries. His Charley Project page claims that he went missing from his hometown of Yorkville, Illinois on April 3, 1979. At the time he lived with his parents in a basement bedroom and worked second shift at a Model Box factory off Route 47 and Cannonball Road in Yorkville. According to The Charley Project his parents realized that he was missing after his boss called them to say that he hadn't shown up for work. On the other hand his Doe Network page claims that his mother (his parents divorced years before his disappearance) called from out of state, when she had not heard from him for two weeks. No one ever heard from him again. Charley Project quotes his parents as saying that he was very close to his younger brothers and would never have willingly gone for this long without contacting them. His parents had him declared legally dead after his disappearance and placed a stone for him at the cemetery. He's regarded an endangered missing and foul play is considered possible. Mark's Charley Project page admits that there's little information available about his case. We don't know what he was wearing and we don't know if he took anything with himself. Possibly because it was his mother, who lived out of state, that reported him missing and she had no way to know what he was last wearing or if he left on foot or by car. Mark was a White male, he had brown hair and eyes, stood between 5'10" - 5'11" and weighted between 140 - 160 lbs. He had a small scar on the side of his nose (unknown which side) according to Doe Network, or on the side of his chin according to The Charley Project. I found more information about his disappearance on Websleuths forum and a blog called Whereabouts Still Unknown. Webslauths users were inspired by the (now unavailable) Naperville Sun article from 2011. Here's a quote from the this article (via Websleuths forum):
"On Sunday I wrote about Kay and Dwayne Collman's very public grief in the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks that claimed the life of their son Jeffrey.
Like so many of the victims, the body of the 41-year-old flight attendant on board the first plane that hit the World Trade Center was never recovered, except for a couple of finger bones that are now buried at River Hills Cemetery in Batavia.
But what the Collmans have kept much more private is that next to Jeffrey's memorial is a similar marker for his older brother, whose burial site is also missing a body.
In 1979, the Collmans' 21-year-old son Mark disappeared and was never heard from again. The shy young man, a 1975 graduate of Yorkville High School, had been living at home at the time and was employed at the Model Box factory off Route 47 and Cannonball Road.
Because he worked a 3 to 11 shift and his bedroom was in the basement, Kay and Dwayne didn't necessarily see Mark every day. So when his boss called to say he'd not shown up to work on April 3, 1979, it was the family's first indication something was wrong."
Websleuths users managed to submit his data for a NamUs, Charley Project and Doe Network in 2011. Before that Mark Allen Collman was absent from all databases. Websleuth users also provided more info: he had many half-siblings and step-siblings, he wasn't on the best terms with his father (that also applies to Mark) and Jeff's and Mark's divorced mother was the one who paid for her sons' graves and according to them she was the one who reported Mark missing. Some comments made by their father in the article about Mark's disappearance and mentioned on Websleuths seem to confirm that their relationship was far from perfect. And then, there's a book called "Jeff's Way: The Story of 9/11 Flight Attendant Jeffrey Collman". It was written by Douglas O'Keeffe, Jeff's co-worker and friend. Both Websleuths and Whereabouts Still Unknown quote this book on Mark's disappearance. According to the book Mark, Jeff and their father Dwayne all worked for the same company in April of 1979. Apparently Mark had a fistfight with his father on the day before, which probably contributed to his disappearance. He left behind his paycheck and his savings. There's also one more theory only mentioned briefly on Websleuths, but expanded on Whereabouts Still Unknown. It's apparently a local rumor based on speculations, not supported by any evidence. We know that Mark attended Yorkville High at the time when Dennis Hastert, former Speaker of the House, was a teacher and wrestling coach there. In 1981 Hastert won a congressional seat and later went on to become the longest running Speaker in U.S. history. In May 2015 Hastert was indicted on federal charges of structuring bank withdrawals to evade bank reporting requirements and making false statements to federal investigators. Investigators alleged that the funds Hastert had withdrawn were used as a hush money to conceal his past sexual misconduct. In 2016 prosecutors alleged that Haskert had molested at least four boys some as young as 14 during his time as a high school wrestling coach. Hastert later admitted to molesting the boys whom he had coached. He was sentenced to 15 months in prison. Some speculate that Mark was either one of Hastert's victims or he was a witness to his crimes, who was then silenced to prevent him from harming Hastert's reputation. Someone also suggested that Mark lived near the area that Larry Eyler traveled in and picked up his victims, Yorkville is also close to John Gacy's area of operation. Several John Does has been ruled out as Mark. Mark's dental records and DNA are available. Sadly, both of his parents died not knowing what had happened to him, his mother died in 2004 and his father died in 2022. If Mark alive today, Mark Allen Collman would be 66 years old.
Sources
Charley Project: https://charleyproject.org/case/mark-allen-collman
Doe Network: https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/4564dmil.html
Mark's Find a Grave page: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/147230782/mark_allen-collman
Websleuths forum thread about Mark's case: https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/il-mark-collman-21-kendall-county-3-april-1979.148614/
Whereabouts Still Unknown post about Mark: https://whereaboutsstillunknown.wordpress.com/2018/12/07/mark-collman/
Jeff's Way by Douglas O'Keeffe: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19858906-jeff-s-way
Excerpt about Mark's disappearance: https://books.google.com/books/about/Jeff_s_Way.html?id=-GS-pBlQ9kUC#v=onepage&q=jeff%20collman's%20brother%20Mark&f=false
Interview with Keith Bradkowski: https://abc7news.com/amp/911-attacks-september-11-anniversary/11013395/
Article about Dwayne and Kay Collman: https://patch.com/illinois/yorkville/local-couple-featured-in-patch-remembers-911-in-911-snapshots
submitted by Snoo_90160 to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]
Over a year ago a YouTube video about the artwork destroyed in the September 11 attacks rekindled my interest in 9/11. I started reading about the attacks, the events surrounding them, the people involved in the events, as well as WTC complex itself: its history, its architecture, its features and its layout. I was already aware of first responders' fight for health benefits and the health conditions that could arise from the exposure to the remains of WTC. Now I learned that some of the same-sex partners of the victims were denied survivor benefits and had to fight for them in court. One such person was Keith Bradkowski. He was considered ineligible for survivor benefits, as the airlines at the time did not recognize domestic partnerships. His partner was Jeffrey Dwayne Collman. Collman was a flight attendant aboard American Airlines Flight 11 who lost his life, when the terrorists flew it into the World Trade Center. The interview mostly concerned Keith's crusade for the recognition, survivor benefits and changes in the inheritance laws, so I decided to look for additional information about Jeff's life. I found another older interview with Keith, article about Jeff's parents (or rather his father and stepmother) and Jeff's Find a Grave profile. He was born in 1959, was 41 at the time of his death and lived in Novato, California, but was originally from Yorkville, Illinois. Keith was his partner of 11 years. His parents divorced when he was a child, and it broke the family. Before his father remarried, he lived with some other relatives. He had three brothers (I later found out that he had many more siblings). One predeceased him. This brother's name was Mark Allen Collman. According to Find a Grave he was born in 1957 and died in 1979. The fact that this family lost two young sons, one of them the deadliest terrorist attack in history, made me understandably sad. I opened Mark's profile. He was born on July 22. 1957 in Aurora, Illinois. The date of his death was 1979, with no day and month. His profile's description read: "Cenotaph for man missing since April 3, 1979." I was even more sad, but as a true crime buff I was also intrigued. I set out to find all the info that I can get about his disappearance. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot written about it. It's coverage seems to be minimal. No newspaper articles, no podcasts, no documentaries. His Charley Project page claims that he went missing from his hometown of Yorkville, Illinois on April 3, 1979. At the time he lived with his parents in a basement bedroom and worked second shift at a Model Box factory off Route 47 and Cannonball Road in Yorkville. According to The Charley Project his parents realized that he was missing after his boss called them to say that he hadn't shown up for work. On the other hand his Doe Network page claims that his mother (his parents divorced years before his disappearance) called from out of state, when she had not heard from him for two weeks. No one ever heard from him again. Charley Project quotes his parents as saying that he was very close to his younger brothers and would never have willingly gone for this long without contacting them. His parents had him declared legally dead after his disappearance and placed a stone for him at the cemetery. He's regarded an endangered missing and foul play is considered possible. Mark's Charley Project page admits that there's little information available about his case. We don't know what he was wearing and we don't know if he took anything with himself. Possibly because it was his mother, who lived out of state, that reported him missing and she had no way to know what he was last wearing or if he left on foot or by car. Mark was a White male, he had brown hair and eyes, stood between 5'10" - 5'11" and weighted between 140 - 160 lbs. He had a small scar on the side of his nose (unknown which side) according to Doe Network, or on the side of his chin according to The Charley Project. I found more information about his disappearance on Websleuths forum and a blog called Whereabouts Still Unknown. Webslauths users were inspired by the (now unavailable) Naperville Sun article from 2011. Here's a quote from the this article (via Websleuths forum):
"On Sunday I wrote about Kay and Dwayne Collman's very public grief in the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks that claimed the life of their son Jeffrey.
Like so many of the victims, the body of the 41-year-old flight attendant on board the first plane that hit the World Trade Center was never recovered, except for a couple of finger bones that are now buried at River Hills Cemetery in Batavia.
But what the Collmans have kept much more private is that next to Jeffrey's memorial is a similar marker for his older brother, whose burial site is also missing a body.
In 1979, the Collmans' 21-year-old son Mark disappeared and was never heard from again. The shy young man, a 1975 graduate of Yorkville High School, had been living at home at the time and was employed at the Model Box factory off Route 47 and Cannonball Road.
Because he worked a 3 to 11 shift and his bedroom was in the basement, Kay and Dwayne didn't necessarily see Mark every day. So when his boss called to say he'd not shown up to work on April 3, 1979, it was the family's first indication something was wrong."
Websleuths users managed to submit his data for a NamUs, Charley Project and Doe Network in 2011. Before that Mark Allen Collman was absent from all databases. Websleuth users also provided more info: he had many half-siblings and step-siblings, he wasn't on the best terms with his father (that also applies to Mark) and Jeff's and Mark's divorced mother was the one who paid for her sons' graves and according to them she was the one who reported Mark missing. Some comments made by their father in the article about Mark's disappearance and mentioned on Websleuths seem to confirm that their relationship was far from perfect. And then, there's a book called "Jeff's Way: The Story of 9/11 Flight Attendant Jeffrey Collman". It was written by Douglas O'Keeffe, Jeff's co-worker and friend. Both Websleuths and Whereabouts Still Unknown quote this book on Mark's disappearance. According to the book Mark, Jeff and their father Dwayne all worked for the same company in April of 1979. Apparently Mark had a fistfight with his father on the day before, which probably contributed to his disappearance. He left behind his paycheck and his savings. There's also one more theory only mentioned briefly on Websleuths, but expanded on Whereabouts Still Unknown. It's apparently a local rumor based on speculations, not supported by any evidence. We know that Mark attended Yorkville High at the time when Dennis Hastert, former Speaker of the House, was a teacher and wrestling coach there. In 1981 Hastert won a congressional seat and later went on to become the longest running Speaker in U.S. history. In May 2015 Hastert was indicted on federal charges of structuring bank withdrawals to evade bank reporting requirements and making false statements to federal investigators. Investigators alleged that the funds Hastert had withdrawn were used as a hush money to conceal his past sexual misconduct. In 2016 prosecutors alleged that Haskert had molested at least four boys some as young as 14 during his time as a high school wrestling coach. Hastert later admitted to molesting the boys whom he had coached. He was sentenced to 15 months in prison. Some speculate that Mark was either one of Hastert's victims or he was a witness to his crimes, who was then silenced to prevent him from harming Hastert's reputation. Someone also suggested that Mark lived near the area that Larry Eyler traveled in and picked up his victims, Yorkville is also close to John Gacy's area of operation. Several John Does has been ruled out as Mark. Mark's dental records and DNA are available. Sadly, both of his parents died not knowing what had happened to him, his mother died in 2004 and his father died in 2022. If Mark alive today, Mark Allen Collman would be 66 years old.
Sources
Charley Project: https://charleyproject.org/case/mark-allen-collman
Doe Network: https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/4564dmil.html
Mark's Find a Grave page: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/147230782/mark_allen-collman
Websleuths forum thread about Mark's case: https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/il-mark-collman-21-kendall-county-3-april-1979.148614/
Whereabouts Still Unknown post about Mark: https://whereaboutsstillunknown.wordpress.com/2018/12/07/mark-collman/
Jeff's Way by Douglas O'Keeffe: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19858906-jeff-s-way
Excerpt about Mark's disappearance: https://books.google.com/books/about/Jeff_s_Way.html?id=-GS-pBlQ9kUC#v=onepage&q=jeff%20collman's%20brother%20Mark&f=false
Interview with Keith Bradkowski: https://abc7news.com/amp/911-attacks-september-11-anniversary/11013395/
Article about Dwayne and Kay Collman: https://patch.com/illinois/yorkville/local-couple-featured-in-patch-remembers-911-in-911-snapshots
2024.06.01 19:02 bijhan Essay on how the nature of fiction changes the road to idolatry, the modern threat of celebrity culture, and a post script asking for support.
I am a Muslim comic book creator. I wanted to share my thoughts and feelings on how a Muslim in the modern world should regard sequential art used for storytelling, in the context that our scholars have largely agreed that representational art is a potential path toward idolatry.
The central topic on which I’d like to address the community is the nature of the philosophical concept of fiction.
Fiction is the process of either creating or interpreting a story or work of art as being false in its literal nature, while regarding the nonliteral message or messages of the work. In understanding how this affects Islam and the words of the Prophet Mohammed, we must understand that fiction, as a concept, has not always existed in the world, and is in fact a relatively modern phenomenon.
Let us first consider the nature of legends. Today, the concept of a legend seems almost synonymous with fiction. But ancient peoples did not think this way.
The Iliad and the Odyssey are epic poems which were composed by the illiterate Greek poet Homer, and preserved in the oral tradition by generations of European bards, before being transcribed by later generations. The poems were not considered fiction by the people who had them as integral to their contemporary culture.
It is a true fact that roughly 5,000 years ago, a Greek confederacy of city states invaded the Trojan homeland in what is today Turkiye, initially by laying siege to the walled city of Ilion, the capital city and most important port of the nation of Troy.
About 2,000 years later, Homer composed epic poems about events which he knew to be real and true. However, he did not do archaeological research in Turkiye, he did not consult written records of the time, and he did not investigate physical artifacts of the war and time period surrounding it. Instead, he relied on his oral traditions, and generations of stories, to be true. When he composed the Iliad and the Odyssey, he understood Achilles, Agamemnon, and Odysseus to be real people who had actually lived, fought, and died as he described it. He included the Greek gods as characters in the story, because, as a devout Greek pagan, Homer believed these gods to actually exist, and to have played active roles in the conflict.
This is not an act of history, because of its lack of connection to physical artifacts that we can analyze scientifically. The so-called “father of history”, Herodotus, would not even be born for another 2,500 years. Even then, Herodotus was a poor historian by today’s standards. The first person to use physical evidence in constructing a history of the past was Sima Qian, a Chinese scholar who lived 3,000 years after Homer. The Muslim scholar, Ibn Khaldun, wouldn’t begin writing about the need to interpret the past through a broad lens until 1,300 years after that. The practice of studying foreign history through a secular lens wouldn’t begin for another 500 years, starting with Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel.
But it’s also true that the Iliad and Odyssey are not works of fiction. While we contemporaneously understand them to be “fictional” in that they do not contain much in the way of truth, they were, in fact, designed to convey what the author thought was true to his audience. This is what we now understand to be a “legend” - something which is repeated by believers as being true, while actually being a complete (or nearly complete) falsehood.
The first piece of literature presented as fiction in the modern sense is a novel written in Japanese called The Tale of Genji. The author, a woman named Murasaki Shikibu, did not intend for the audience to regard it as a truthful account of an actual event. She made it clear in her presentation that it did not represent a literal truth, but instead acted as allegory for a moral and social truth.
The Tale of Genji was written only 900 years ago.
The first European novel was Don Quixote, by Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes, a mere 400 years ago.
Muslim nations and their languages didn’t begin producing novels until about 200 years ago.
The Prophet Mohammed lived and died roughly 1,400 years ago. Which means, when he addressed the issue of representative art being a path to idolatry, the concept of fiction was still 500 years away from being known to Humanity; and still 1,200 years away from being a common concept to Arabs, Persians, and other peoples who had largely converted to Islam.
When the Prophet Mohammed was warning the Ummah of the dangers of representative art, it was in a specific historical context. The people he was speaking to had only two ways to understand information: true or false. The use of allegory to create a fictional setting in which to interpret metaphors did not exist to the first members of the Ummah. Therefore, when they saw a painting of a tree, it was simply a lie. It gave the appearance of a tree, without actually being a tree. It was a deception.
This is how the road to idolatry begins: by accepting a falsehood as the truth. We can see this in contemporary examples. Hindus in India can sometimes be presented with statues of living or deceased people, and begin worshiping them. Famously, when under the British Raj, a statue of Queen Victoria was raised in a village square. The Hindus living there, having no context for statues of non-deities, began praying to and giving sacrifices to the statue of Queen Victoria. Because of their cultural context, they understood statues not to be mere representations, but monuments to deities specifically. This lack of a philosophical framework leads to idolatry.
We can also see this phenomenon in modern commercial media. Photographs, isolated from the context of their creation, and manipulated by computers to be more psychologically appealing, are used to create a false image of a Human being. Celebrities are called “idols”, not as a metaphor, but because they are literally accumulating the praise that belongs to God. People look to celebrities to sell them cures for their illnesses, products which will bring them happiness, and communities which bind them to the brand. The methods employed by celebrity culture are identical to those employed by the cult industry. We even have the phrase “cult of personality”, again, not as a metaphor, but because personalities are often at the center of cults. This is sort of an aside, but this is also why prophets like Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed were so clear on being nothing more than mortal men. Because worshiping them would be idolatry. All praise belongs to God.
Although constructed out of bits of reality, the images and stories created by celebrity brands are a lie. They portray themselves as blameless, faultless, unworthy of scorn, and without sin. But those are qualities which belong only to God, and no one - and nothing - else. When a celebrity does or says something which offends, they must go on tour to make amends, so as to repair their image, because they cannot permit themselves to have an image which is stained by the Humanity of error.
But when we engage with a story which we understand to be fiction, everything changes. We inherently desire stories about imperfect people having conflict over relatable Human issues. Never in all the great works of literature ever published in any language, regarded by historians as masterpieces, do we ever find a blameless, faultless hero. Instead, we find complex and difficult people, with sophisticated perspectives, and moral philosophies forged through a combination of insight and experience. In fiction, we do not seek God or gods. In fiction, we seek introspection into the Human condition.
There are works of fiction with blameless characters who are without fault, but these are universally reviled, and widely understood to be a form of intellectual self-gratification. The first best known example of such a work was a fan-made short story set in the universe of Star Trek, in which the author, named Mary Sue, inserted a character into the universe who was named Ensign Mary Sue. Said character immediately saved the USS Enterprise from disaster by being the smartest person aboard, and then seduced Captain Kirk. The majority of the story was merely an explicit description of sex acts. This story became well known not because people enjoyed it. In fact, quite the opposite. It was shared as an example of the poorest possible quality writing. The story had no tension, no message, and no meaning, other than for the author to tell others about her own sexual fantasies.
To this day, “Mary Sue” is used as derisive shorthand in fiction to describe a character who is impossibly confident and impossibly competent. A “Mary Sue” is everything a fictional protagonist should not be, and everything a brand celebrity must be.
My conclusion from this is that when the Prophet Mohammed preached against the use of representative art as the pathway to idolatry, this was due to the cultural context of the Ummah who lived at the time. Without the framework of fiction as a philosophical concept to filter their experience of art, and as can be seen with modern polytheists worshiping statues, it can be extremely dangerous to engage with representative art. However, with an understanding that narrative art is fictional, and therefore a metaphorical insight into the Human condition, representative art discourages idolatry, and encourages introspection into the limitations and sins of Humanity. The much greater modern threat of idolatry comes from celebrity culture, which creates untruths and then espouses them as the only truth.
To this end, the greatest weapon we have against the danger of idolatry is media literacy. Learning to understand how media is used to create the appearance of truth, while containing none, is how we navigate the complexities of fiction and deduce the misinformation of supposedly informative storytelling.
Therefore, in a world where the philosophical concept of fiction does not exist, there can be a real danger in representative art leading to idolatry. However, in a world where fiction is well understood, but also those consuming the media lack the skills to tell where truth ends and fiction begins, the greatest danger of idolatry comes not from paintings or cinema, but instead from those who use photos and videos to trick the viewer into believing something which is not true, perpetuating a false purity and moral supremacy.
THE END
Postscript:
Building on the understanding that fiction can be a permissible form of representative art in Islam, I have written "The Adventures of Kobra Olympus," a comic book that features a Muslim woman superhero. Kobra Olympus embodies strength, intelligence, and compassion, offering a powerful role model for young Muslims and non-Muslims alike. This project is currently live on Kickstarter, and I would love your support to bring this vision to life. By backing our Kickstarter, you can help increase positive representation of Muslims in media, fostering greater understanding and diversity in storytelling. Your support will not only contribute to the creation of an exciting and dynamic comic book but also play a crucial role in challenging misconceptions and celebrating the rich cultural tapestry of the Muslim community.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/jamsheedstudios/kobra-olympus-issue-2-robot-rumble
submitted by bijhan to progressive_islam [link] [comments]
The central topic on which I’d like to address the community is the nature of the philosophical concept of fiction.
Fiction is the process of either creating or interpreting a story or work of art as being false in its literal nature, while regarding the nonliteral message or messages of the work. In understanding how this affects Islam and the words of the Prophet Mohammed, we must understand that fiction, as a concept, has not always existed in the world, and is in fact a relatively modern phenomenon.
Let us first consider the nature of legends. Today, the concept of a legend seems almost synonymous with fiction. But ancient peoples did not think this way.
The Iliad and the Odyssey are epic poems which were composed by the illiterate Greek poet Homer, and preserved in the oral tradition by generations of European bards, before being transcribed by later generations. The poems were not considered fiction by the people who had them as integral to their contemporary culture.
It is a true fact that roughly 5,000 years ago, a Greek confederacy of city states invaded the Trojan homeland in what is today Turkiye, initially by laying siege to the walled city of Ilion, the capital city and most important port of the nation of Troy.
About 2,000 years later, Homer composed epic poems about events which he knew to be real and true. However, he did not do archaeological research in Turkiye, he did not consult written records of the time, and he did not investigate physical artifacts of the war and time period surrounding it. Instead, he relied on his oral traditions, and generations of stories, to be true. When he composed the Iliad and the Odyssey, he understood Achilles, Agamemnon, and Odysseus to be real people who had actually lived, fought, and died as he described it. He included the Greek gods as characters in the story, because, as a devout Greek pagan, Homer believed these gods to actually exist, and to have played active roles in the conflict.
This is not an act of history, because of its lack of connection to physical artifacts that we can analyze scientifically. The so-called “father of history”, Herodotus, would not even be born for another 2,500 years. Even then, Herodotus was a poor historian by today’s standards. The first person to use physical evidence in constructing a history of the past was Sima Qian, a Chinese scholar who lived 3,000 years after Homer. The Muslim scholar, Ibn Khaldun, wouldn’t begin writing about the need to interpret the past through a broad lens until 1,300 years after that. The practice of studying foreign history through a secular lens wouldn’t begin for another 500 years, starting with Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel.
But it’s also true that the Iliad and Odyssey are not works of fiction. While we contemporaneously understand them to be “fictional” in that they do not contain much in the way of truth, they were, in fact, designed to convey what the author thought was true to his audience. This is what we now understand to be a “legend” - something which is repeated by believers as being true, while actually being a complete (or nearly complete) falsehood.
The first piece of literature presented as fiction in the modern sense is a novel written in Japanese called The Tale of Genji. The author, a woman named Murasaki Shikibu, did not intend for the audience to regard it as a truthful account of an actual event. She made it clear in her presentation that it did not represent a literal truth, but instead acted as allegory for a moral and social truth.
The Tale of Genji was written only 900 years ago.
The first European novel was Don Quixote, by Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes, a mere 400 years ago.
Muslim nations and their languages didn’t begin producing novels until about 200 years ago.
The Prophet Mohammed lived and died roughly 1,400 years ago. Which means, when he addressed the issue of representative art being a path to idolatry, the concept of fiction was still 500 years away from being known to Humanity; and still 1,200 years away from being a common concept to Arabs, Persians, and other peoples who had largely converted to Islam.
When the Prophet Mohammed was warning the Ummah of the dangers of representative art, it was in a specific historical context. The people he was speaking to had only two ways to understand information: true or false. The use of allegory to create a fictional setting in which to interpret metaphors did not exist to the first members of the Ummah. Therefore, when they saw a painting of a tree, it was simply a lie. It gave the appearance of a tree, without actually being a tree. It was a deception.
This is how the road to idolatry begins: by accepting a falsehood as the truth. We can see this in contemporary examples. Hindus in India can sometimes be presented with statues of living or deceased people, and begin worshiping them. Famously, when under the British Raj, a statue of Queen Victoria was raised in a village square. The Hindus living there, having no context for statues of non-deities, began praying to and giving sacrifices to the statue of Queen Victoria. Because of their cultural context, they understood statues not to be mere representations, but monuments to deities specifically. This lack of a philosophical framework leads to idolatry.
We can also see this phenomenon in modern commercial media. Photographs, isolated from the context of their creation, and manipulated by computers to be more psychologically appealing, are used to create a false image of a Human being. Celebrities are called “idols”, not as a metaphor, but because they are literally accumulating the praise that belongs to God. People look to celebrities to sell them cures for their illnesses, products which will bring them happiness, and communities which bind them to the brand. The methods employed by celebrity culture are identical to those employed by the cult industry. We even have the phrase “cult of personality”, again, not as a metaphor, but because personalities are often at the center of cults. This is sort of an aside, but this is also why prophets like Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed were so clear on being nothing more than mortal men. Because worshiping them would be idolatry. All praise belongs to God.
Although constructed out of bits of reality, the images and stories created by celebrity brands are a lie. They portray themselves as blameless, faultless, unworthy of scorn, and without sin. But those are qualities which belong only to God, and no one - and nothing - else. When a celebrity does or says something which offends, they must go on tour to make amends, so as to repair their image, because they cannot permit themselves to have an image which is stained by the Humanity of error.
But when we engage with a story which we understand to be fiction, everything changes. We inherently desire stories about imperfect people having conflict over relatable Human issues. Never in all the great works of literature ever published in any language, regarded by historians as masterpieces, do we ever find a blameless, faultless hero. Instead, we find complex and difficult people, with sophisticated perspectives, and moral philosophies forged through a combination of insight and experience. In fiction, we do not seek God or gods. In fiction, we seek introspection into the Human condition.
There are works of fiction with blameless characters who are without fault, but these are universally reviled, and widely understood to be a form of intellectual self-gratification. The first best known example of such a work was a fan-made short story set in the universe of Star Trek, in which the author, named Mary Sue, inserted a character into the universe who was named Ensign Mary Sue. Said character immediately saved the USS Enterprise from disaster by being the smartest person aboard, and then seduced Captain Kirk. The majority of the story was merely an explicit description of sex acts. This story became well known not because people enjoyed it. In fact, quite the opposite. It was shared as an example of the poorest possible quality writing. The story had no tension, no message, and no meaning, other than for the author to tell others about her own sexual fantasies.
To this day, “Mary Sue” is used as derisive shorthand in fiction to describe a character who is impossibly confident and impossibly competent. A “Mary Sue” is everything a fictional protagonist should not be, and everything a brand celebrity must be.
My conclusion from this is that when the Prophet Mohammed preached against the use of representative art as the pathway to idolatry, this was due to the cultural context of the Ummah who lived at the time. Without the framework of fiction as a philosophical concept to filter their experience of art, and as can be seen with modern polytheists worshiping statues, it can be extremely dangerous to engage with representative art. However, with an understanding that narrative art is fictional, and therefore a metaphorical insight into the Human condition, representative art discourages idolatry, and encourages introspection into the limitations and sins of Humanity. The much greater modern threat of idolatry comes from celebrity culture, which creates untruths and then espouses them as the only truth.
To this end, the greatest weapon we have against the danger of idolatry is media literacy. Learning to understand how media is used to create the appearance of truth, while containing none, is how we navigate the complexities of fiction and deduce the misinformation of supposedly informative storytelling.
Therefore, in a world where the philosophical concept of fiction does not exist, there can be a real danger in representative art leading to idolatry. However, in a world where fiction is well understood, but also those consuming the media lack the skills to tell where truth ends and fiction begins, the greatest danger of idolatry comes not from paintings or cinema, but instead from those who use photos and videos to trick the viewer into believing something which is not true, perpetuating a false purity and moral supremacy.
THE END
Postscript:
Building on the understanding that fiction can be a permissible form of representative art in Islam, I have written "The Adventures of Kobra Olympus," a comic book that features a Muslim woman superhero. Kobra Olympus embodies strength, intelligence, and compassion, offering a powerful role model for young Muslims and non-Muslims alike. This project is currently live on Kickstarter, and I would love your support to bring this vision to life. By backing our Kickstarter, you can help increase positive representation of Muslims in media, fostering greater understanding and diversity in storytelling. Your support will not only contribute to the creation of an exciting and dynamic comic book but also play a crucial role in challenging misconceptions and celebrating the rich cultural tapestry of the Muslim community.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/jamsheedstudios/kobra-olympus-issue-2-robot-rumble
2024.06.01 18:11 TheForce122 Infographic Updated
 | Israel JFK thread submitted by TheForce122 to conspiracy_commons [link] [comments] https://twitter.com/noble_x_x_/status/1755004382955872527?s=19 https://twitter.com/TruePopulism/status/1754348196321488966?s=19 🚨JFK ASSASSINATION - ZIONIST CONNECTION The JFK assassination was the tragic killing of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963, in Dallas, Texas. The event shook the nation and is remembered as one of the darkest moments in American history. Many of you know the conspiracies surrounding the assassination, but here we are going to focus on Mossad and Zionist connections.
Just prior to his assassination Kennedy would go back and forth with Israel on their nuclear capabilities, with the then prime minister of Israel, stating that without nuclear weapons, Israel would cease to exist. After continuous requests for neutral scientists to evaluate the reactors on site, Israel would create fake control rooms that were intended to look like an energy reactor controls, rather than a weapons grade plutonium isotope manufacturing plant. Finally the CIA would approve the request with a stipulation that the reactor itself wasn't to be inspected but rather the false control rooms only. Kennedy shortly after this event was quoted as saying: "Those sons of bitches lie to me constantly about their nuclear capability" - John F. Kennedy Kennedy's reluctance to provide nuclear arms to Israel may just have cost him his life.
Many of you have likely seen the JFK footage already, filmed by ADL "B'nai B'rith" member, Abraham Zapruder, famous for the Zapruder film. One point of controversy is the placement of Zapruder, being stationed in the perfect location to get the closest filming shot possible of the assassination, without even a flinch or movement as gun shots rang out. Zapruder was a textile manufacturer headquartered in the Dallas Textile building which was the building where the first two gun shots were supposedly fired from that missed their mark according to ballistics determined by independent investigations after that fateful day. The building the shots were fired from was owned by a man named David Weisblat, who also happened to be one of the largest financiers at the time of the ADL, and Douglas Jaffe, who was a very significant donor to Lyndon B Johnson, who would be the man to take over the presidency after JFK was killed. The Chairman of the Dallas Citizen's Council, Sam Bloom would coordinate the transfer of Lee Harvey Oswald to the Dallas county jail. During this transfer Oswald would be shot by a man who goes by the name "Jack Ruby." Interestingly enough however, Jack Ruby's real name was Jacob Leon Rubinstein. Almost immediately after the assassination, the Israeli nuclear reactor would go critical, creating the conditions for the weapons grade plutonium isotope, with Israel obtaining nuclear weapons nearly one year later with the approval of the replacement president Lyndon B. Johnson. It is thought that the uranium for the enrichment process came from a plant in Pennsylvania where almost 200 pounds of weapons-grade uranium went "missing."
The Warren Commission, the commission set up to investigate the killing was created by none other than Lyndon B. Johnson himself, and had been given limited information as the CIA was considered complicit in a cover-up by withholding important information during the investigation.
If you have any additional information to share, please comment below and as always, don't take my word for any of this, feel free to fact check and research each point involved in this write-up and come to your own conclusion.
In 2001, Lt-Gen. Ahmad regularly visited the United States where he consulted with The Pentagon and CIA officials in the Bush administration in the weeks before and after terrorist attacks took place in New York on 11 September 2001.[23] In fact, he was with U.S. Republican Congressman Porter Goss and U.S. Democratic Senator Bob Graham in Washington, D.C., discussing Osama bin Laden over breakfast, when the attacks of September 11, 2001 took place in New York, United States.[24][25]https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahmud_Ahmed "The Pakistan Connection" Ahmed, the paymaster for the hijackers, was actually in Washington on 9/11, and had a series of pre-9/11 top-level meetings in the White House, the Pentagon, the national security council, and with George Tenet, then head of the CIA, and Marc Grossman, the under-secretary of state for political affairs. When Ahmed was exposed by the Wall Street Journal as having sent the money to the hijackers, he was forced to "retire" by President Pervez Musharraf. Why hasn't the US demanded that he be questioned and tried in court?https://www.theguardian.com/world/2004/jul/22/usa.september11 - https://archive.is/0s1Ff Bush ties to Bin laden: https://www.denverpost.com/2006/09/11/bush-ties-to-bin-laden-haunt-grim-anniversary/ "Odigo Says Workers Were Warned of Attack" Odigo, the [Israeli] instant messaging service, says that two of its workers received messages two hours before the Twin Towers attack on September 11 predicting the attack would happen.https://www.haaretz.com/2001-09-26/ty-article/odigo-says-workers-were-warned-of-attack/0000017f-dbc4-df62-a9ff-dfd7beff0000 - https://archive.is/uL4DT "Mohamed Atta called his father after 9/11 who also blamed Israel's Mossad for the attacks" https://youtu.be/iLcxjGT87m8?si=qcNo-X8GJuaUhV7w "A DAY OF TERROR: THE ISRAELIS; Spilled Blood Is Seen as Bond That Draws 2 Nations Closer" Asked tonight what the attack meant for relations between the United States and Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, the former prime minister, replied, ''It's very good.''https://www.nytimes.com/2001/09/12/us/day-terror-israelis-spilled-blood-seen-bond-that-draws-2-nations-closer.html - https://archive.is/PEI1l Nathan Wolfe (Rothschild-Epstein-Maxwell asset) of DARPA/EcoHealth/Gates Foundation ran the COVID-19 creation operation with Peter Daszak of EcoHealth via the Global Virome Project (Wuhan Lab). Nathan Wolfe dedicated his book "Viral Storm" to Israeli spy Jeffrey Epstein and Bill Gates and is BFF with Israeli spy Ghislaine Maxwell. "Did virus hunters cover up a lab leak?" (Good article about the Global Virome Project headed by Nathan Wolfe and Peter Daszak) https://archive.is/G8Lp8 "Hunter Biden's Ukraine BioLab Partner (Nathan Wolfe) Was Partners With Ghislaine Maxwell" https://archive.is/0BxQM Documentary on Nathan Wolfe: https://youtu.be/Q8UgtUtDDp8?si=rtVbLNeSElmDwTkz Bill Gates 9/4/19 $55 million BioNTech mRNA vaxx creator investment: https://archive.is/IP0b9 Elon/Grimes 9/4/19 tablet: https://archive.is/s7kJT Former EcoHealth VP Andrew Huff September 2019 DARPA weird job offer: https://twitter.com/AGHuff/status/1492249880546398215 Former EcoHealth VP Dr. Andrew Huff legal declaration confirming EcoHealth funded by Bill Gates and CIA (In-Q-Tel) and that Peter Daszak told him he was working with CIA: https://archive.is/iZL1N "Redfield: COVID-19 Was in Wuhan in September or October 2019: Former CDC director also tells CNN that the virus likely escaped from a lab" https://www.med pagetoday.com/special-reports/exclusives/91843 - https://archive.is/YsEui "COVID-19 might have started to spread in September 2019 in the United States: study"https://archive.is/NpOqY On the 12th Sep 2019, the main database of samples and viral sequences of the Wuhan Institute of Virology went offline. Eventually every single of the 16 virus databases managed by the WIV was taken offline.https://archive.is/i79eW Here's former CDC director Robert Redfield under oath before the Congress on Wuhan Lab September 2019 events: https://www.youtube.com/live/aXXWRaM-sWQ?feature=share I will say if you go back and look, it's declassified now, and I'm sure you all have your classified briefings, but the declassified information now:Scientist Richard Ebright The relevance of this is that SARS Cov-2, the pandemic virus, is the only virus in its entire genus of SARS-related coronaviruses that contains a fully functional cleavage site at the S1, S2 junction. And here is a proposal from the beginning of 2018 [from Fauci/Gates-funded EcoHealth Alliance] proposing explicitly to engineer that sequence at that position in chimeric lab- generated coronaviruses.
When I first saw the furin cleavage site in the viral sequence, with its arginine codons, I said to my wife it was the smoking gun for the origin of the virus. These features make a powerful challenge to the idea of a natural origin for SARS2.
I was concerned because of the presence of the furin cleavage site that we've talked about and I think it's important to understand what that cleavage site does. That cleavage site totally changes the orientation of the binding domain of COVID, so where before it could not see the ACE2 receptor which is the human receptor, it totally changes the orientation now so it has high affinity for human receptors. So that furin cleavage site bothered me, it didn't seem like it belonged there.Scientist Valentin Bruttel: I tried to raise awareness to this for a year now. WIV use BsaI and BsmBI/Esp3I sites before to make synthetic WIV1 variants. And exactly those sites appear in a "silently introduced, perfect for synthetic assembly" pattern in SARS2, but non of its nat. relatives.Type Ils restriction sites prove a synthetic origin Synthetic RNA viruses are assembled at the DNA level and later transcribed. 30,000 nucleotides cannot be synthesized in one go. These viruses are therefore assembled from smaller, 2- 8,000 nucleotide long pieces. Specific DNA restriction sites are often added to later reassemble the individual building blocks in the correct order. It is also technically possible to hide these interfaces (No See'em), but this was not done in the WIV. In a 2017 paper, two very specific, particularly suitable type Ils restriction enzymes were used at the WIV. These have the advantage that they can produce different DNA overhangs (sticky ends), which are crucial for a correct assembly of the complete genome: Bsal and BsmBI. SARS2 shows a Bsal and BsmBI restriction site pattern which is ideal for assembling synthetic viruses and to later replace the spike protein or furin cleavage site. Bsal and BsmBI restriction sites also exist in closely related viruses (Banal20-52, RaTG13), but these are distributed in such a way that an artificial virus could never be generated using the methods established at WIV 2018/19. The probability that the required 5 synonymous mutations, which enable a synthetic assembly of SARS2, arose purely by chance is less than 1 in 1020 or about as likely as winning the lottery jackpot 3 times in a row. Dr. Valentin Bruttel https://twitter.com/VBruttel/status/1566365635680124929?t=koDQ9poynY6I9qSchgQAnw&s=19 |
2024.06.01 18:07 Linchen86 My(38F)Stepmother(66) gifted her best Friend(69F)the PC from my deceased father without talking to me first. How can I move on from this?
Helly everyone first time I am writing here pls excuse any grammar mistakes. English is not my first language and I am not used to reddit, so pls bare with me. My(38F) father died recently and I am still in shock what happend during this time. But let me give you information about my fathers and my life before I explain the situation. And sorry for the wall of text but I have no one to talk about it.
My father(67m) and my mother were divorced since I was 7 years old. He had an affair with his now widow Mary(66F). They got married and during my teenagertime I lived with them because I was a Daddys Girl and I was often in fight with Mary because she always made clear that she didnt want me around. Her family and friends were always number one. My father didnt really intervene because he was financially dependent on her. For example she always went with the children of her friends on a shopping spree, watching movies and so on. And I was always left out. I really tried to suck it up but after a time living with them, I moved back to my mother and brother and had low contact, because she did everything that I cant see my father and he just took it.
As I got older perhaps I was about 28, I noticed that my fathers health condition was getting with every year worse, so I reconnect with them over the last 10 years. They bought a house together and lived their lives happily. During that time I also reconnected with Mary. I helped her taking care of the house and garden, went house sitting when they were on vacation, we cook together, I had many sleepovers there and for the first time I was so happy to have my father back in my life and get so well with Mary. This was like my second home.
Now what happend ? My father was dying and Mary just wrote a Message in the morning "Your father is dying please think of him" Unfortunately I didnt hear the notification and later I got a call from Marys best friend Susan(68F) she said "your father has now passed away, it was peacefully" I was shocked... I asked her "where is Mary ? why didnt she called me ? Susan just said that Mary cant talk right now - which I completely understand but why didnt she called me ? I couldnt be there for my fathers last moments. During this Mary didnt contacted me not a single time. So I talked to Susan and asked her if I could help ? Like doing the mails, helping in the house, and many other questions but everything was shut down by her. So I asked her just for curiostiy is there a last will ? And Susan went crazy. How dare that I asked that ? And that I am an inheritance sneaker ! I tried to calm her down that this is not my intention it was just a simple question and she went straight to Mary and told her how horrible I am and Mary believed her without doubt. I know this was kinda an inappropiate question but I just wanted to know it so that I can also try to help with correspondence, because Mary is very bad in making appointments and organizing.
Everything was now under Susans control. I had absolutely no right In the process of the funeral. I wasnt allowed to do a obituary, to book a cafe for after the funeral and I wasnt allowed to decide which urn my father will get and much more. On all decisions I was left out. I also wasnt allowed to contact Mary because Susan said everything is to hard for her. And Mary didnt reply to messages or calls. I cried every day and Mary and Susan didnt care. The whole funeral was a crapshow.. the eulogy for my father was so short and so little about him. All the talk was about Marys friends and family. How great they have helped her in the last few years. Guess who had a special part in the Eulogy ? Yep you guessed it ! Susan ! What a wonderful friend she is and was always there for my father and Mary. You wanna know if we children where mentioned ?Let me give you our part of it : "OPs Father left 2 Children behind. His daughter also lived with them for a while, Then the contact became less" Thats it. I was devastated... After the Funeral Mary walked to me and asked "what do you think ? The funeral was nice right ?" I just stared at her eyes mumbled something about "werent the 10 years I was there for you two nothing?" and leaved the place.
This whole situation with the funeral took a toll on me.. I almost cry every day but that was not the tip of the iceberg.. My father was a passionate Gamer and had a PC and guess who has it now ? You guessed it right again! Susan! I tried to talk with Mary to please give me the PC it has sentimental value for me, the PC is over 6 years old it is not Highend. I build the computer together with my father, I helped him all the time with it, I played with him online but she didnt care. I also tried to talk to Susan about it and she said right after I mentioned it "This is now MY PC your father gifted it to me 2 years ago you will not get it !" Again I was devastated and shocked. I now try to get a external harddrive out from it because this was mine so that I least have one memory. I also have to wait to get my compulsory share of inheritance. Mary didnt even contacted me once during the whole time. I am so sad and realize that maybe Mary still didnt liked me at all? And I dont wanna see both of them ever again.. And my attorney is involved. I feel just defeated and miss my father so much.
TLDR: My Stepmother who always had a problem with me gifted my deceased fathers pc to her best friend without talking to me first.
submitted by Linchen86 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
My father(67m) and my mother were divorced since I was 7 years old. He had an affair with his now widow Mary(66F). They got married and during my teenagertime I lived with them because I was a Daddys Girl and I was often in fight with Mary because she always made clear that she didnt want me around. Her family and friends were always number one. My father didnt really intervene because he was financially dependent on her. For example she always went with the children of her friends on a shopping spree, watching movies and so on. And I was always left out. I really tried to suck it up but after a time living with them, I moved back to my mother and brother and had low contact, because she did everything that I cant see my father and he just took it.
As I got older perhaps I was about 28, I noticed that my fathers health condition was getting with every year worse, so I reconnect with them over the last 10 years. They bought a house together and lived their lives happily. During that time I also reconnected with Mary. I helped her taking care of the house and garden, went house sitting when they were on vacation, we cook together, I had many sleepovers there and for the first time I was so happy to have my father back in my life and get so well with Mary. This was like my second home.
Now what happend ? My father was dying and Mary just wrote a Message in the morning "Your father is dying please think of him" Unfortunately I didnt hear the notification and later I got a call from Marys best friend Susan(68F) she said "your father has now passed away, it was peacefully" I was shocked... I asked her "where is Mary ? why didnt she called me ? Susan just said that Mary cant talk right now - which I completely understand but why didnt she called me ? I couldnt be there for my fathers last moments. During this Mary didnt contacted me not a single time. So I talked to Susan and asked her if I could help ? Like doing the mails, helping in the house, and many other questions but everything was shut down by her. So I asked her just for curiostiy is there a last will ? And Susan went crazy. How dare that I asked that ? And that I am an inheritance sneaker ! I tried to calm her down that this is not my intention it was just a simple question and she went straight to Mary and told her how horrible I am and Mary believed her without doubt. I know this was kinda an inappropiate question but I just wanted to know it so that I can also try to help with correspondence, because Mary is very bad in making appointments and organizing.
Everything was now under Susans control. I had absolutely no right In the process of the funeral. I wasnt allowed to do a obituary, to book a cafe for after the funeral and I wasnt allowed to decide which urn my father will get and much more. On all decisions I was left out. I also wasnt allowed to contact Mary because Susan said everything is to hard for her. And Mary didnt reply to messages or calls. I cried every day and Mary and Susan didnt care. The whole funeral was a crapshow.. the eulogy for my father was so short and so little about him. All the talk was about Marys friends and family. How great they have helped her in the last few years. Guess who had a special part in the Eulogy ? Yep you guessed it ! Susan ! What a wonderful friend she is and was always there for my father and Mary. You wanna know if we children where mentioned ?Let me give you our part of it : "OPs Father left 2 Children behind. His daughter also lived with them for a while, Then the contact became less" Thats it. I was devastated... After the Funeral Mary walked to me and asked "what do you think ? The funeral was nice right ?" I just stared at her eyes mumbled something about "werent the 10 years I was there for you two nothing?" and leaved the place.
This whole situation with the funeral took a toll on me.. I almost cry every day but that was not the tip of the iceberg.. My father was a passionate Gamer and had a PC and guess who has it now ? You guessed it right again! Susan! I tried to talk with Mary to please give me the PC it has sentimental value for me, the PC is over 6 years old it is not Highend. I build the computer together with my father, I helped him all the time with it, I played with him online but she didnt care. I also tried to talk to Susan about it and she said right after I mentioned it "This is now MY PC your father gifted it to me 2 years ago you will not get it !" Again I was devastated and shocked. I now try to get a external harddrive out from it because this was mine so that I least have one memory. I also have to wait to get my compulsory share of inheritance. Mary didnt even contacted me once during the whole time. I am so sad and realize that maybe Mary still didnt liked me at all? And I dont wanna see both of them ever again.. And my attorney is involved. I feel just defeated and miss my father so much.
TLDR: My Stepmother who always had a problem with me gifted my deceased fathers pc to her best friend without talking to me first.
2024.06.01 18:05 calvin324hk [H] 1000+ Games / DLCs / VR Games [W] Paypal / Wishlist / Offers
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submitted by calvin324hk to indiegameswap [link] [comments]
https://www.reddit.com/sgsflaicomments/of2wzu/flair_profile_ucalvin324hk/
Wishlist
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- Hoplegs
- Hot Tin Roof: The Cat That Wore A Fedora
- HOT WHEELS UNLEASHED ™
- Hotel Transylvania 3: Monsters Overboard
- Hotel Transylvania: Scary-Tale Adventures
- Hotshot Racing
- House Flipper
- How to Survive 2
- Hue
- Human: Fall Flat
- HUMANKIND DEFINITIVE EDITION
- Hungry Flame
- Hyper Knights
- I am Bread
- I Am Fish
- I am not a Monster: First Contact
- I Hate Running Backwards
- ibb & obb Double Pack
- ICBM
- Ice Age Scrat's Nutty Adventure
- Ice Age: Scrat's Nutty Adventure
- Ice Lakes
- Impostor Factory
- IN SOUND MIND
- Indivisible
- INDUSTRIA
- Infectonator 3: Apocalypse
- Infinite Beyond The Mind
- Injustice 2 Legendary Edition
- Insane 2
- INSOMNIA: The Ark
- Internet Cafe Simulator
- Internet Cafe Simulator 2
- Interstellar Space: Genesis
- Iris and the Giant
- Iron Fisticle
- Iron Harvest
- Ittle Dew
- Ittle Dew 2+
- Jack Move
- Jackbox party pack 2
- Jackbox party pack 5
- JANITOR BLEEDS
- Joint Task Force
- Jotun: Valhalla Edition
- Journey For Elysium
- Journey to the Savage Planet
- JUMANJI: The Video Game
- Jupiter Hell
- Jurassic Park: The Game
- Jurassic World Evolution
- Jurassic World Evolution 2
- JUST CAUSE 4: COMPLETE EDITION
- Just Die Already
- Kardboard Kings: Card Shop Simulator
- Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes
- Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth
- Kentucky Route Zero - Season Pass Edition
- Kerbal Space Program
- Kill it with Fire
- Killing Floor 2 Digital Deluxe Edition
- Killing Room
- Kingdom Two Crowns
- Kingdom: New Lands
- King's Bounty: Crossworlds
- Knights of Pen & Paper 2
- Knock-knock
- Koi-Koi Japan [Hanafuda playing cards] *Koi-Koi Japan : UKIYOE tours Vol.1 DLC *Koi-Koi Japan : UKIYOE tours Vol.2 DLC *Koi-Koi Japan : UKIYOE tours Vol.3 DLC
- Konung 2
- KungFu Kickball
- Labyrinthine
- Lair of the Clockwork God
- Laserlife
- Last Kids on Earth and the Staff of Doom
- LAST OASIS
- Lawn Mowing Simulator
- Layers of Fear: Masterpiece Edition
- Lead and Gold: Gangs of the Wild West
- Learn Japanese To Survive! Hiragana Battle
- Learn Japanese To Survive! Katakana War
- Learn Japanese to Survive! Trilogy
- Legend of Keepers
- LEGION TD 2 - MULTIPLAYER TOWER DEFENSE
- LEGION TD 2 - MULTIPLAYER TOWER DEFENSE.
- Leisure Suit Larry - Wet Dreams Don't Dry
- Leisure Suit Larry 1-7
- Lemnis Gate
- Lemon Cake
- lethal league blaze
- Let's School
- Levelhead
- Liberated (GOG)
- Life is Strange Complete Season (Episodes 1-5)
- Light Fairytale Episode 1
- Light Fairytale Episode 2
- LIGHTMATTER
- Little dragons cafe
- Little Hope
- Little Inner Monsters - Card Game
- Little Misfortune
- Little Nightmares
- Little Nightmares Complete Edition
- Livelock
- Loop Hero
- Loot River
- Looterkings
- Lornsword Winter Chronicle
- Lost Castle
- Love Letter
- Lovecraft's Untold Stories
- Lovely planet arcade
- Lucius 2
- Lucius 3
- Ludus
- Lumberhill
- LunarLux
- Lust for Darkness
- Lust from Beyond: M Edition
- Mad Experiments: Escape Room
- Mad Max
- Mafia Definitive Edition
- Mafia iii
- Mafia: Definitive Edition
- Magenta Horizon
- Mahjong Pretty Girls Battle
- Mahjong Pretty Girls Battle : School Girls Edition
- Maid of Sker
- Mail Time
- Maize
- Maneater
- Marooners
- MARSUPILAMI - HOOBADVENTURE
- Marvel's Avengers - The Definitive Edition
- Mato Anomalies
- Max Payne 3
- Mechs & Mercs: Black Talons
- Medieval II: Total War - Definitive Edition
- Medieval: Total War Collection
- MEEPLE STATION
- Men of War
- MERCHANT OF THE SKIES
- METAL HELLSINGER
- Metal Hellsinger
- Metro Exodus
- Metro last light
- Metro: Last Light Redux
- Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor GOTY
- Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor GOTY
- Middle-Earth: Shadow of War Definitive Edition
- MIDNIGHT PROTOCOL
- Mighty Switch Force! Collection
- Milky Way Prince - The Vampire Star
- MIND SCANNERS
- Ministry of Broadcast
- Minute of Islands
- Miscreated
- Mists of Noyah
- MKXL
- Mob Factory
- Mob Rule Classic
- Monaco
- Monster Hunter: Rise
- Monster Slayers - Complete Edition
- Monstrum
- Monstrum 2
- Moon Hunters
- Moons of Madness
- MORDHAU
- Mordheim: City of the Damned
- Mortal Kombat 11 Ultimate Edition
- MORTAL KOMBAT XL
- Mortal Shell
- Motorcycle Mechanic Simulator 2021
- Mr. Run and Jump
- MudRunner
- Murder Mystery Machine
- My Big Sister
- My Friend Peppa Pig
- My Little Universe
- My Lovely Wife
- My Summer Adventure: Memories of Another Life
- My Time At Portia
- Mythforce
- N++ (NPLUSPLUS)
- Napoleon: Total War - Definitive Edition
- NARUTO TO BORUTO: SHINOBI STRIKER
- Necesse
- NECROMUNDA: HIRED GUN
- Necronator: Dead Wrong
- NecroVisioN: Lost Company
- NecroWorm
- Neighbours back From Hell
- Nelly Cootalot: Spoonbeaks Ahoy! HD
- Neon Space
- Neon Space 2
- Neon Sundown
- Nephise: Ascension
- Neurodeck : Psychological Deckbuilder
- Never Alone Arctic Collection (w/ Foxtales DLC and FREE Soundtrack)
- Neverinth
- Neverout
- Neverwinter Nights: Complete Adventures
- Newt One
- Nexomon: Extinction
- Nigate Tale
- Nimbatus - The Space Drone Constructor
- Nine Parchments
- Nine Witches: Family Disruption
- Nioh 2: The Complete Collection
- No Straight Roads: Encore Edition
- No Time to Relax
- Nomad Survival
- Nongunz: Doppelganger Edition
- Noosphere
- Northgard
- Northmark: Hour of the Wolf
- Nostradamus: The Last Prophecy
- not the robots
- Not Tonight
- Nurse Love Addiction
- Nurse Love Syndrome
- Nusakana
- Obduction
- Obey Me
- Observer: System Redux
- Occultus - Mediterranean Cabal
- Odallus: The Dark Call
- Oddworld: New 'n' Tasty
- One Finger Death Punch 2
- One Hand Clapping
- One More Island
- One Step From Eden
- One Step From Eden (Region locked)
- Orbital Racer
- Organs Please
- Orwell: Ignorance is strength
- Out of Reach: Treasure Royale
- Out of Space
- Overclocked: A History of Violence
- Overcooked! 2 + Too Many Cooks + Surf 'n' Turf pack
- Overlord: Ultimate Evil Collection
- Overpass
- Overruled
- OZYMANDIAS: BRONZE AGE EMPIRE SIM
- Pac-Man Museum +
- Pan'Orama
- Panty Party
- Panzer Corps 2
- Panzer Paladin
- PARADISE LOST
- Parkan 2
- PARTISANS 1941
- Passpartout 2: The Lost Artist
- Path of Giants
- Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous
- Patron
- Paw Patrol: On A Roll!
- Paw Paw Paw
- Paws of Coal
- Peaky Blinders: Mastermind
- PER ASPERA
- PGA 2K21
- Pharaonic
- Pixplode
- Pizza Connection 3
- Plague tale
- Planescape: Torment Enhanced Edition
- Planet Alcatraz
- PLANET ZOO
- PlateUp!
- Pogostuck: Rage With Your Friends
- Poker Pretty Girls Battle: Texas Hold'em
- Police Stories
- Poly Island
- Post Void
- POSTAL 2
- POSTAL 2: Paradise Lost DLC
- POSTAL Redux
- POSTAL: Brain Damaged - Connoisseur Edition
- Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid
- Prank Call
- Prehistoric Kingdom
- Pretty Girls Mahjong Solitaire
- Pretty Girls Panic!
- Prey
- Primal Carnage: Extinction
- Princess Kaguya: Legend of the Moon Warrior
- Pro Cycling Manager 2020
- Prodeus
- Project CARS - GOTY Edition
- Project Warlock
- Project Wingman (EU)
- PROJECT WINTER
- Propnight
- Pseudoregalia
- PULSAR: The Lost Colony
- qomp
- Quadrilateral Cowboy
- Quake II
- Quake II
- Quantum Break
- Quern - Undying Thoughts
- Radio Commander
- RAGE
- RAILROAD CORPORATION
- Railroad Tycoon 3
- Railroad Tycoon II Platinum
- Railway Empire
- Rain World
- Rayon Riddles - Rise of the Goblin King
- Re: Legend
- REBEL COPS
- Rebel Galaxy
- Rebel Galaxy Outlaw
- Recipe For Disaster
- Red Faction Guerrilla Re-Mars-tered
- Red Faction: Armageddon
- Red Riding Hood - Star Crossed Lovers
- Red Ronin
- RED SOLSTICE 2: SURVIVORS
- Redout Complete Bundle
- Redout: Enhanced Edition
- Redout: Enhanced Edition + DLC pack
- Regular Human Basketball
- REKT! High Octane Stunts
- Relicta
- REMNANT: FROM THE ASHES - COMPLETE EDITION
- Republique
- Rescue Party: Live!
- Resident Evil 0 HD REMASTER
- Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition
- Resident Evil 7 Biohazard
- Resident Evil Revelations
- Resort Boss: Golf
- Retimed
- RETROWAVE
- rFactor 2
- RiME
- Ring of Pain
- Rise of Industry + 2130 DLC
- Rise of the Slime
- Rising Storm 2: Vietnam + 2 DLCs
- River City Girls
- River City Ransom: Underground
- Roarr! Jurassic Edition
- Roboquest
- Robot Squad Simulator 2017
- Rogue : Genesia
- ROGUE HEROES: RUINS OF TASOS
- ROGUE LORDS
- Rogue Stormers
- rollercoaster tycoon 2
- ROTASTIC
- Roundguard
- ROUNDS
- RUNNING WITH RIFLES
- Rustler
- Ryse: Son of Rome
- S.W.I.N.E. HD Remaster
- Sailing Era
- Saint Row
- SAINTS ROW
- Saints Row IV
- Saints Row The Third
- Saints Row: Gat Out of Hell
- Saints Row: The Third Remastered
- Sam and Max Devil's Playhouse
- SAMUDRA
- Sands of Aura
- Sands of Salzaar
- Saturday Morning RPG
- Scarlet Tower
- Scars Above
- Scorn
- SCP: 5K
- SCUM
- SEARCH PARTY: Director's Cut
- Second Extinction
- Secret Government
- Serious Sam 3 Bonus Content DLC, Serious Sam 3: Jewel of the Nile, and Serious Sam 3: BFE
- SEUM speedrunners from hell
- SEUM: Speedrunners from Hell
- Severed Steel
- Shadow Tactics: Aiko's Choice
- Shadowgate
- Shadows Awakening
- SHADOWS: AWAKENING
- Shape of the World
- She Sees Red - Interactive Movie
- Shenmue I & II
- SHENZHEN I/O
- Shift Happens
- Shing!
- Shining Resonance Refrain
- Shoppe Keep 2
- Shoppe Keep 2 - Business and Agriculture RPG Simulation
- Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate
- Sid Meier's Civilization VI
- Sid Meier's Railroads!
- Sifu Deluxe Edition Upgrade Bundle (EPIC)
- Silver Chains
- SimCity 4 Deluxe Edition
- Sinking Island
- SINNER: Sacrifice for Redemption
- Siralim Ultimate
- Size Matters
- Skautfold Chapters 1-4
- Skullgirls 2nd Encore
- Slain: Back from Hell
- Slap City
- Slash It
- Slash It 2
- Slash It Ultimate
- Slay the Spire
- Small World
- Smart Factory Tycoon
- Smile For Me
- Smoke and Sacrifice
- Smoke and Sacrifice
- Smushi Come Home
- Snail bob 2 tiny troubles
- Sniper Elite 3
- Sniper Elite 3 + Season Pass DLC
- Sniper Elite 4 Deluxe Edition
- Sniper Ghost Warrior 3 - Season Pass Edition
- Sniper Ghost Warrior Contracts
- Snooker 19
- SONG OF HORROR COMPLETE EDITION
- Songs of Conquest
- Sonic Adventure 2
- Sonic Adventure DX
- Sonic and SEGA All Stars Racing
- Sonic Generations Collection
- Soulblight
- Souldiers
- SOULSTICE
- Soundfall
- Source of Madness
- Spartan Fist
- Spec Ops
- Speed Limit
- Spelunx and the Caves of Mr. Seudo
- Spidersaurs
- Spin Rush
- Spirit Hunter: Death Mark
- Spirit of the Island
- Spirit of the North
- Spring Bonus
- Spyro Reignited Trilogy
- Stairs
- Star Trek Prodigy: Supernova
- STAR WARS - Knights of the Old Republic
- STAR WARS - The Force Unleashed Ultimate Sith Edition
- Star Wolves
- Starbound
- Starsand
- STASIS: Bone Totem
- State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition
- Steel Rats™
- Stick Fight: The Game
- Still Life
- Still Life 2
- Still There
- Stirring Abyss
- STONE
- Strange Brigade
- Strange Brigade Deluxe Edition
- STRANGER
- Strategic Command: World War I
- Strategic Mind: Blitzkrieg
- Strategic Mind: Fight for Freedom
- Strategic Mind: Spectre of Communism
- Strategic Mind: Spirit of Liberty
- Strategy & Tactics: Wargame Collection
- Streamer Life Simulator
- Street Fighter 30th Anniversary Collection
- Street Fighter V
- Strider
- Strikey Sisters
- Struggling
- Stubbs the Zombie in Rebel Without a Pulse
- Stygian: Reign of the Old Ones
- Styx: Master of Shadows
- Styx: Shards of Darkness
- SuchArt
- Sudden Strike Gold
- Suite 776
- Sumoman
- Sunblaze
- SUNLESS BUNDLE
- Sunset Overdrive
- Super Buff HD
- Super Mag Bot
- Superbugs: Awaken
- Superhot
- Surgeon Simulator 2
- Survive the Nights
- Surviving Mars
- Surviving Mars
- Surviving The Aftermath
- Swag and Sorcery
- SWINE HD Remaster
- Sword Legacy Omen
- Sword of the Necromancer
- Swords and Soldiers 2 Shawarmageddon
- Syberia 3
- Symphonic Rain
- Symphony of War: The Nephilim Saga
- Synthwave Dream '85
- Tacoma
- Taiji
- Take Off - The Flight Simulator
- Tales
- Tales from the Borderlands
- Talk to Strangers
- Tallowmere
- Talos Principle (Gold)
- Tangledeep
- Tank Mechanic Simulator
- Tannenberg
- Team Sonic Racing
- TEKKEN 7
- TEMTEM
- Terminus: Zombie Survivors
- TERRAFORMERS
- Terratech Deluxe Edition
- Terror of Hemasaurus
- Textorcist
- Tharsis
- The Addams Family: Mansion Mayhem
- The Adventure Pals
- The Amazing American Circus
- The Ambassador: Fractured Timelines
- The Anacrusis
- The Ascent
- The Battle of Polytopia
- The Battle of Polytopia *DLC1. Cymanti Tribe *DLC2. ∑∫ỹriȱŋ Tribe *DLC3. Aquarion Tribe *DLC4. Polaris Tribe
- The Beast inside
- The Blackout Club
- The Callisto Protocol™
- The Chess Variants Club
- The Citadel
- The Colonists
- THE DARK PICTURES ANTHOLOGY: LITTLE HOPE
- The Darkest Tales
- The Dungeon Beneath
- The Dungeon of Naheulbeuk: The Amulet of Chaos
- The Elder Scrolls Adventures: Redguard
- The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind® Game of the Year Edition
- The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion® Game of the Year Edition
- The Elder Scrolls Online
- The Escapists 2
- THE GAME OF LIFE 2
- The Golf Club™ 2019 featuring PGA TOUR
- The haunted island, A frog detective
- The Haunted Island, a Frog Detective Game
- The Hong Kong Massacre
- The Horror Of Salazar House
- The Innsmouth Case
- The Invisible Hours
- The Jackbox Party Pack 9
- The Knight Witch
- The Last Campfire
- The LEGO Movie 2 Videogame
- The Letter - Horror Visual Novel
- The Long Dark
- The Manhole: Masterpiece Edition
- The Mortuary Assistant
- The Mummy Demastered
- The Occupation
- The Outer Worlds
- THE OUTER WORLDS: SPACER'S CHOICE EDITION
- THE PALE BEYOND
- The Quarry
- The Quarry deluxe
- The Ramp
- The Rewinder
- The Sacred Tears TRUE
- The Sexy Brutale
- The Shapeshifting Detective
- The Tarnishing of Juxtia
- The Tenants
- The Uncertain - The Last Quiet Day
- The Uncertain: Last Quiet Day
- The Uncertain: Light At The End
- The USB Stick Found in the Grass
- The Walking Dead
- The Walking Dead - 400 Days
- The Walking Dead Saints and Sinners
- The Walking Dead: A New Frontier
- The Walking Dead: Final Season
- The Walking Dead: Michonne - A Telltale Miniseries
- The Walking Dead: Saints & Sinners
- The Walking Dead: Season 1
- The Walking Dead: Season Two
- The Way
- The Wild At Heart
- The Wild Eight
- The Witness
- Them and Us
- They Bleed Pixels
- Thief of Thieves
- This War of Mine
- This Way Madness Lies
- Three Kingdom: The Journey
- Time on Frog Island
- Tinkertown
- Tiny Tina’s Wonderland(EU)
- TINY TINA'S WONDERLANDS CHAOTIC GREAT EDITION
- Tiny Troopers
- Tinykin
- Tinytopia
- TIS-100
- Titan Quest
- Tokyo Xanadu eX+
- Tom Clancy's The Division™
- Tom Clancy's The Division™ - Survival!
- Tools up
- Tooth and Tail
- Torchlight
- Total Tank Simulator
- Tour de France 2020
- Tower Unite
- Trail Out
- Trailblazers
- Trailmakers
- Trailmakers Deluxe Edition
- Train Sim World 3: Standard Edition
- Train Simulator Classic
- Train Valley 1
- TRANSFORMERS: BATTLEGROUNDS
- Transport INC
- Treasure Hunter Simulator
- TRIBES OF MIDGARD
- Trine 4: The Nightmare Prince
- Trinity Fusion
- Trollhunters: Defenders of Arcadia
- Trombone Champ
- Tropico 5 - Complete Collection
- Trover Saves the Universe
- Tunche
- Turmoil
- Turok 2: Seeds of Evil
- Twin Mirror
- Two Point Campus
- Two Point Hospital
- TYPECAST
- Tyrant's Blessing
- Ultimate Chicken Horse
- Ultimate Zombie Defense
- Ultra Space Battle Brawl
- Unavowed
- Undead Horde
- Underhero
- Unexplored 2: The Wayfarer's Legacy
- Unity of Command: Stalingrad Campaign
- Universim
- UNLOVED
- Unpacking
- Until I have you
- Unto The End
- Upside Down
- URU: Complete Chronicles
- Vagante
- Valfaris
- Valfaris: Mecha Therion
- Valkryia Chronicles 4 Complete Edition
- Valkyria Chronicles 4 Complete Edition
- Valkyria Chronicles 4: Complete Edition
- Vambrace: Cold Soul
- Vampire - The Masquerade: Shadows of New York
- Vampire Survivors
- Vane
- Vectronom
- Velocity Noodle
- Venba
- Verne: The Shape of Fantasy
- Victoria 3
- Victoria II
- Viking: Battle For Asgard
- Virgo Versus The Zodiac
- VirtuaVerse
- Visage
- Viscerafest
- Void Bastards
- VOIDIGO
- Volcanoids
- Voltage High Society
- V-Rally 4
- Wanderlust: Travel Stories (GOG)
- Wanted: Dead
- Wargroove
- Warhammer 40,000 Sanctus Reach - Complete Edition
- Warhammer 40,000: Armageddon - Imperium Complete
- Warhammer 40,000: Battlesector
- Warhammer 40,000: Gladius - Relics of War
- Warhammer 40,000: Space Wolf Special Edition
- WARHAMMER AGE OF SIGMAR: REALMS OF RUIN – ULTIMATE EDITION
- Warhammer: End Times - Vermintide
- Warhammer: Vermintide 2
- Warman
- Warstone TD
- Wasteland 3
- Wayward
- WE NEED TO GO DEEPER
- We should talk.
- We Were Here Together
- We Were Here Too
- Webbed
- Werewolf: The Apocalypse Heart of the Forest
- West of Dead
- What Lies in the Multiverse
- When Ski Lifts Go Wrong
- while True: learn()
- Whos Your daddy
- Wick
- Windward
- Witch It
- Witchy Life Story
- wizard of legends
- Worms Rumble
- Worms Rumble + Legends Pack
- Wrath: Aeon of Ruin
- WRC 6 FIA World Rally Championship
- WRC 7 FIA World Rally Championship
- WWE 2K Battlegrounds
- WWE 2K23
- WWZ Aftermath
- Wytchwood
- X-COM: COMPLETE PACK
- XCOM: ULTIMATE COLLECTION
- XIII - Classic
- X-Morph: Defense
- X-Morph: Defense + European Assault, Survival of the Fittest, and Last Bastion DLC
- X-Morph: Defense Complete Pack
- Yakuza Kiwami
- Yakuza: Like A Dragon
- Yumeutsutsu Re:After
- Yumeutsutsu Re:Master
- Zen Chess: Mate in One, Mate in 2 , Mate in 3 , Mate in 4 , Champion's Moves (5 games)
- Ziggurat
- Zombie Army 4
- Zombie Army Trilogy
- Zool Redimensioned
- Zwei: The Arges adventure
- Zwei: The ilvard insurrection
- For The King: Lost Civilization Adventure Pack
- Train Simulator: Isle of Wight Route Add-On
- Train Simulator: Woodhead Electric Railway in Blue Route Add-On
- Train Simulator: North Somerset Railway Route Add-On
- Train Simulator: Union Pacific Heritage SD70ACes Loco Add-On
- Train Simulator: London to Brighton Route Add-On
- BR Class 170 'Turbostar' DMU Add-On
- DB BR 648 Loco Add-On
- Europa Universalis IV: Wealth of Nations
- Expansion - Europa Universalis IV: Conquest of Paradise
- Expansion - Europa Universalis IV: Res Publica
- Grand Central Class 180 'Adelante' DMU Add-On
- Peninsula Corridor: San Francisco - Gilroy Route Add-On
- SONIC ADVENTURE 2: BATTLE
- Small World - A Spider's Web
- Small World - Cursed
- Small World - Royal Bonus
- The Dungeon Of Naheulbeuk: The Amulet Of Chaos - Goodies Pack
- The Dungeon Of Naheulbeuk: The Amulet Of Chaos - OST
- Thompson Class B1 Loco Add-On
- Total War: Shogun 2 - Rise of the Samurai
- Train Sim World® 3: Birmingham Cross-city line
- Train Sim World®: BR Class 20 'Chopper' Loco
- Train Sim World®: Brighton Main Line: London Victoria - Brighton
- Train Sim World®: Caltrain MP36PH-3C 'Baby Bullet'
- Train Sim World®: Cathcart Circle Line: Glasgow - Newton & Neilston
- Train Sim World®: Clinchfield Railroad: Elkhorn - Dante
- Train Sim World®: Great Western Express
- Train Sim World®: Hauptstrecke Hamburg - Lubeck
- Train Sim World®: LIRR M3 EMU
- Train Sim World®: Long Island Rail Road: New York - Hicksville
- Train Sim World®: Nahverkehr Dresden - Riesa
- Train Sim World®: Northern Trans-Pennine: Manchester - Leeds
- Train Sim World®: Peninsula Corridor: San Francisco - San Jose
- Train Sim World®: Rhein-Ruhr Osten: Wuppertal - Hagen
- Train Sim World®: Tees Valley Line: Darlington - Saltburn-by-the-sea
- Worms Rumble - Armageddon Weapon Skin Pack
- Worms Rumble - Captain & Shark Double Pack
- Worms Rumble - Legends Pack
- Worms Rumble - New Challengers Pack
- Ashampoo Photo Optimizer 7
- Dagon: by H. P. Lovecraft - The Eldritch Box DLC
- Duke Nukem Forever Hail to the Icons
- Duke Nukem Forever The Doctor Who Cloned Me
- GRIP: Combat Racing - Cygon Garage Kit
- GRIP: Combat Racing - Nyvoss Garage Kit
- GRIP: Combat Racing - Terra Garage Kit
- GRIP: Combat Racing - Vintek Garage Kit
- GameGuru
- GameMaker Studio 2 Creator 12 Months
- Intro to Game Development with Unity
- Music Maker EDM Edition
- Neverwinter Nights: Darkness Over Daggerford
- Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition Dark Dreams of Furiae
- Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition Tyrants of the Moonsea
- Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition
- Neverwinter Nights: Infinite Dungeons
- Neverwinter Nights: Pirates of the Sword Coast
- Neverwinter Nights: Wyvern Crown of Cormyr
- PDF-Suite 1 Year License
- Pathfinder Second Edition Core Rulebook and Starfinder Core Rulebook
- RPG Maker VX
- WWE 2K BATTLEGROUNDS - Ultimate Brawlers Pass
- We Are Alright
- The Outer Worlds Expansion Pass
- A Hat in Time - Seal the Deal DLC
- City Skylines:mass transit
- A Game Of Thrones - A Dance With Dragons
- A Game Of Thrones - A Feast For Crows
- Blood Rage: Digital Edition - Gods of Asgard
- Blood Rage: Digital Edition - Mythical Monsters
- Blood Rage: Digital Edition - Mystics of Midgard
- Carcassonne - The Princess and The Dragon DLC
- Carcassonne - Traders & Builders DLC
- Carcassonne - Winter & Gingerbread Man DLC
- Carcassonne - Inns & Cathedrals
- Carcassonne - The River
- Splendor: The Trading Posts DLC
- Splendor: The Strongholds DLC
- Splendor: The Cities DLC
- Small World - Be Not Afraid... DLC
- Small World - Grand Dames DLC
- Small World - Cursed!
- Sands of Salzaar - The Ember Saga
- Sands of Salzaar - The Tournament
- Monster Train: The Last Divinity DLC
- WARSAW
2024.06.01 18:05 calvin324hk [H] 1000+ Games / DLCs / VR Games [W] Paypal / Wishlist / Offers
https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/pikmri/calvin324hks_igs_rep_page/
https://www.reddit.com/sgsflaicomments/of2wzu/flair_profile_ucalvin324hk/
Wishlist
Region: NA (Canada)
Fees on buyer if any, currency is USD unless specified
CTRL + F to find your games in terms of name
DLCs and Softwares:
submitted by calvin324hk to SteamGameSwap [link] [comments]
https://www.reddit.com/sgsflaicomments/of2wzu/flair_profile_ucalvin324hk/
Wishlist
Region: NA (Canada)
Fees on buyer if any, currency is USD unless specified
CTRL + F to find your games in terms of name
- 10 Second Ninja X
- 11-11 Memories Retold
- 112 Operator
- 12 is Better Than 6
- 198X
- 1993 Space Machine
- 60 Parsecs
- 7 Billion Humans
- 8 DOORS
- 8-bit Adventure Anthology: Volume I
- 9 Years of Shadows
- 911 Operator
- A Game of Thrones: The Board Game
- A Hat in Time
- A Hole New World
- A JUGGLER'S TALE
- A Long Way Down
- A PLAGUE TALE: INNOCENCE
- A Robot Named Fight!
- A Tale for Anna
- A.I.M.2 Clan Wars
- Abalon (Summoners Fate)
- Above Snakes
- ABZU
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- Konung 2
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- Orwell: Ignorance is strength
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- OZYMANDIAS: BRONZE AGE EMPIRE SIM
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- PER ASPERA
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- REMNANT: FROM THE ASHES - COMPLETE EDITION
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- Serious Sam 3 Bonus Content DLC, Serious Sam 3: Jewel of the Nile, and Serious Sam 3: BFE
- SEUM speedrunners from hell
- SEUM: Speedrunners from Hell
- Severed Steel
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- Smoke and Sacrifice
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- Songs of Conquest
- Sonic Adventure 2
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- SOULSTICE
- Soundfall
- Source of Madness
- Spartan Fist
- Spec Ops
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- Spelunx and the Caves of Mr. Seudo
- Spidersaurs
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- Spirit Hunter: Death Mark
- Spirit of the Island
- Spirit of the North
- Spring Bonus
- Spyro Reignited Trilogy
- Stairs
- Star Trek Prodigy: Supernova
- STAR WARS - Knights of the Old Republic
- STAR WARS - The Force Unleashed Ultimate Sith Edition
- Star Wolves
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- STASIS: Bone Totem
- State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition
- Steel Rats™
- Stick Fight: The Game
- Still Life
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- Still There
- Stirring Abyss
- STONE
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- STRANGER
- Strategic Command: World War I
- Strategic Mind: Blitzkrieg
- Strategic Mind: Fight for Freedom
- Strategic Mind: Spectre of Communism
- Strategic Mind: Spirit of Liberty
- Strategy & Tactics: Wargame Collection
- Streamer Life Simulator
- Street Fighter 30th Anniversary Collection
- Street Fighter V
- Strider
- Strikey Sisters
- Struggling
- Stubbs the Zombie in Rebel Without a Pulse
- Stygian: Reign of the Old Ones
- Styx: Master of Shadows
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- SuchArt
- Sudden Strike Gold
- Suite 776
- Sumoman
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- SUNLESS BUNDLE
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- Survive the Nights
- Surviving Mars
- Surviving Mars
- Surviving The Aftermath
- Swag and Sorcery
- SWINE HD Remaster
- Sword Legacy Omen
- Sword of the Necromancer
- Swords and Soldiers 2 Shawarmageddon
- Syberia 3
- Symphonic Rain
- Symphony of War: The Nephilim Saga
- Synthwave Dream '85
- Tacoma
- Taiji
- Take Off - The Flight Simulator
- Tales
- Tales from the Borderlands
- Talk to Strangers
- Tallowmere
- Talos Principle (Gold)
- Tangledeep
- Tank Mechanic Simulator
- Tannenberg
- Team Sonic Racing
- TEKKEN 7
- TEMTEM
- Terminus: Zombie Survivors
- TERRAFORMERS
- Terratech Deluxe Edition
- Terror of Hemasaurus
- Textorcist
- Tharsis
- The Addams Family: Mansion Mayhem
- The Adventure Pals
- The Amazing American Circus
- The Ambassador: Fractured Timelines
- The Anacrusis
- The Ascent
- The Battle of Polytopia
- The Battle of Polytopia *DLC1. Cymanti Tribe *DLC2. ∑∫ỹriȱŋ Tribe *DLC3. Aquarion Tribe *DLC4. Polaris Tribe
- The Beast inside
- The Blackout Club
- The Callisto Protocol™
- The Chess Variants Club
- The Citadel
- The Colonists
- THE DARK PICTURES ANTHOLOGY: LITTLE HOPE
- The Darkest Tales
- The Dungeon Beneath
- The Dungeon of Naheulbeuk: The Amulet of Chaos
- The Elder Scrolls Adventures: Redguard
- The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind® Game of the Year Edition
- The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion® Game of the Year Edition
- The Elder Scrolls Online
- The Escapists 2
- THE GAME OF LIFE 2
- The Golf Club™ 2019 featuring PGA TOUR
- The haunted island, A frog detective
- The Haunted Island, a Frog Detective Game
- The Hong Kong Massacre
- The Horror Of Salazar House
- The Innsmouth Case
- The Invisible Hours
- The Jackbox Party Pack 9
- The Knight Witch
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- The LEGO Movie 2 Videogame
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- Sands of Salzaar - The Ember Saga
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- WARSAW