Buzzing tingling in hands, arms and feet
Tippy taps by excited people
2018.03.21 04:16 ashmoreinc Tippy taps by excited people
This is a subreddit for happy and excited people who can no longer contain their excitement and let it out in the form of tapping their feet.. a lot.
2013.08.01 05:34 Don't Look Down
A subreddit for pictures and videos taken from insane heights. We welcome content that gives you that queasy feeling in your stomach and a tingling sensation in your feet.
2010.02.10 01:02 TaraJane23 Hyperhidrosis
2024.05.15 22:27 SSGOldschool A three day review of the M7 Spear
TLDR:
Over the course of three days, a friend of mine and I lived with the M7 Spear. We spent time at various ranges, doing "tactical stuff", getting in and out of HMMWV's and GSA's, while trying to figure out the ins-and-outs of the rifle.
My sample, #087, had between 8K and 10K round rounds through it. The number of combat vs training rounds was not tracked, but given the expected barrel life is 10K combat rounds we ran a borescope through the barrel and the chamber to see what we could see.
His sample, #529, had between 6K and 8K of an unknown mix combat and training rounds through it. We ran the borescope through it as well.
There was no real difference in the wear between the two rifles.
We spent the morning of the first day playing around with the ammunition and doing comparisons against 308 168gr SMK, while the ultrasonic cleaner did Gods work on the various bits and bobs of our sample rifles.
I've got mixed feelings about the MCX system. It ticks a lot of boxes, short stroke gas piston, no need for a buffer tube or spring, superior handling of gas when suppressed and so on.
However, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of the maintenance? I absolutely despise it. Despite owning a MCX in 300 blackout myself, every cleaning session feels overly complex and time consuming.
We kicked off the afternoon with both rifles, setting up for grouping and zeroing—my rig was outfitted with the Tango 6T sporting the "Hellfire" reticle in MOA, resembling your standard rifle scope setup. His, on the other hand, featured the same Tango 6T but with Hellfire in MILS, decked out with the Christmas tree reticle.
Some time back, I made a comment after my initial rounds with the Spear, labeling it a "tack driver." In hindsight, I probably should have clarified that bit. Typically, when shooting a new rifle, if I land three out of five shots within a 1 to 1.5 MOA spread, I chalk up any outliers to user error rather than blaming the rifle or the ammunition.
However, it appears that assumption was a bit off.
Our zeroing and grouping efforts at 100 yards turned into quite the saga. We found ourselves mostly hitting 3 rounds within the 1 to 1.5 MOA range, but occasionally, one or two shots would balloon the group size to between 2.5 and 3 MOA.
Instead of descending into frustration and stubborn attempts to tighten these groups, we opted to settle for anything under three MOA as acceptable for our purposes and proceeded to finalize our zero.
Following our grouping and zeroing session, we spent the remainder of the afternoon plinking with training rounds at 100 yards.
During this, I learned a hard lesson about the non-reciprocating charging handle—it needs to be firmly locked forward before hitting the bolt release on the left side. After a couple of painful mishaps and a few close calls, I finally caught on and made it a routine to ensure the handle was properly set before engaging the bolt release.
I really wanted to get on board with the side charging handle, but after three days, I'm just not a fan. It tended to snag on my gear (Eagle MARCRIS plate carrier) when maneuvering or positioning the rifle to fire, making it less convenient than I had hoped.
Interestingly, I found myself using it more during offhand shooting. I'd instinctively remove my left hand from the pistol grip to work the side charging handle, rather than using my right hand on the traditional top charging handle. Yes, I'm aware this breaks the cardinal rule of keeping your firing hand on the grip, but this method felt more intuitive, similar to operating a bolt-action rifle.
When shooting offhand, the rifle scores highly. I don't often shoot this way, but I encountered none of the usual drawbacks associated with traditional AM platforms. Aside from the tricky side charging handle, the rifle seemed inherently designed for ambidextrous use, which I particularly appreciated when firing left-handed.
I was tempted to launch into a tirade about the ridiculously designed folding stock, but you deserve a more structured critique. Here are the three major gripes:
The next day, we arrived ready to group, zero, and qualify with a local unit. We had informed them of our visit and assumed everything was squared away with range control.
However, that assumption fell flat. Turns out, the range’s surface danger zones weren’t set up for the 277 Fury. Just as we finished dialing in our zero (.75 inches low at 25m), range control showed up, questioning our activities.
Following an awkward exchange and the diplomatic offering of a case of beer, they agreed to let us continue and even served as Officer in Charge (OIC) and Range Safety Officer (RSO) for the KD range. We proceeded with the old KD qualification, alternating between marking and raising targets, and both of us qualified without any issues.
With some extra time on our hands—and much to the amusement of range control—the session evolved into a lively mix of burpees and sprinting between shooting positions. We experimented with various firing positions and sequences, such as starting from standing unsupported at 100 yards and moving down to kneeling unsupported. This exercise underscored the rifle’s heft yet manageability, while also highlighting how the forward-heavy balance made extended unsupported shooting particularly taxing on the arms and upper back.
The afternoon unfolded with battledrills and land navigation alongside the unit we were scheduled to qualify with. Given the theoretical roles and limited numbers, the platoon leader assigned us to the designated marksman/squad designated marksman roles, which was logical considering we were the only ones equipped with the new rifles while the rest of the squad used M4s.
This setup sparked an intense discussion among the officers about how tactical deployment might shift once the rifle was fully integrated into service. There was plenty of speculation on how military tactics and doctrines would need to adapt to leverage the new capabilities offered by this rifle.
However, I'm somewhat skeptical. I don't see this rifle as the revolutionary game-changer it’s touted to be. While it's undoubtedly suited for the designated marksman role, I doubt the Army will invest the necessary time, money, and resources to train every soldier to this level of proficiency. Consider that there are reserve units that only qualify every four years, often just to help "point-needy" soldiers piggyback for qualification. This rifle won’t alter that reality.
As for the night qualification, we were slated to test that as well, but circumstances didn’t allow for it, so I can’t comment on how the rifle performs at night with night vision devices.
On the third morning, we headed to the LMG range, ready to go full-auto from a bipod, gearing up to tackle the 249 qualification.
Honestly, this was the most amazing shooting experience I've had in ages. The only snag was the 20-round magazine capacity, which felt limiting amid the thrill—it was the only moment of frustration in an otherwise splendid session.
We ran a practice session with the training rounds, followed by a qualification shoot with both the training and combat rounds. By lunchtime, our shoulders were thoroughly sore, but I can't remember the last time I'd grinned that much in a long while.
Post-lunch, we dropped in on some local law enforcement officers who were operating a shoot house. Initially, we navigated the course with M4s to familiarize ourselves with the layout and safety protocols. After getting a handle on things, we switched to the M7s, running through the course using the last of our training rounds, having depleted our combat rounds earlier on the machine gun range.
Both of us found ourselves moving significantly slower with the M7s. Reviewing the footage, it was clear that I was painfully slow to get on target with the M7. It wasn't just about slower movements, but also a delayed response in engagement. Initially, I chalked it up to age, I'm over 50 and a bit heavier than ideal, but the reality struck when I saw I wasn’t this slow with the M4. In fact, I was quicker than some of the officers.
Similarly, my buddy was slower than usual, not lagging behind me, but certainly off his usual pace with the M4.
Interesting side note: We're no longer welcome at that shoot house. The staff was fully aware of our arrival and what we brought along, and everything seemed fine until the exercise wrapped up and we faced some "constructively harsh feedback" about 277 and damage done to the tire and sandbag walls as well as the plywood target backers.
That's rant for another time.
Regarding the suppressor:
It's really more of an enhanced flash hider than a true suppressor. I'm probably a bit biased—shooting a 300 Blackout through a Sig TI suppressor spoils you with its movie hitman silence.
By comparison, the M7 setup was louder than my suppressed .308 shooting 175gr SMK.
On the topic of the optic:
The Tango6 was decent.
The clarity was impressive, and its brightness and MOA configuration were points in its favor.
However, achieving a consistent cheek weld and finding the right optic position for proper eye relief across magnifications 1 through 6, especially from unsupported positions, proved challenging.
The issue could be me, the stock, or the optic itself. While it was somewhat bothersome, it wasn't enough to cause significant frustration.
submitted by SSGOldschool to army [link] [comments]
At the small post we were on, the 25m zero range and qual range SDZ's did not allow for firing these rifles. Something we only learned after confirming our zeros on the 25m range.A review of the 277 Fury rounds is here and you may need to read it for some context, but I have endeavored to make this review stand alone as much as possible.
It's still heavy, but after a day or so you stop noticing it until you have to shoot from a standing position or doing are doing CQB. then you are painfully reminded how off balance the rifle is.
The two sample rifles we had were consistently 3 MOA guns.
The non-reciprocating charging handle on the left side is not as cool as I initially thought, and it ruins the whole "truly ambidextrous" feel that the Sig MCX line has.
The folding buttstock can go fuck itself.
Over the course of three days, a friend of mine and I lived with the M7 Spear. We spent time at various ranges, doing "tactical stuff", getting in and out of HMMWV's and GSA's, while trying to figure out the ins-and-outs of the rifle.
My sample, #087, had between 8K and 10K round rounds through it. The number of combat vs training rounds was not tracked, but given the expected barrel life is 10K combat rounds we ran a borescope through the barrel and the chamber to see what we could see.
His sample, #529, had between 6K and 8K of an unknown mix combat and training rounds through it. We ran the borescope through it as well.
There was no real difference in the wear between the two rifles.
We spent the morning of the first day playing around with the ammunition and doing comparisons against 308 168gr SMK, while the ultrasonic cleaner did Gods work on the various bits and bobs of our sample rifles.
Note when we did the ammo comparison we used a Remington 700PSS with 24" barrel. It quickly became apparent when we were testing the rifles, that was a poor benchmark, as the Remington outperformed both rifles in everything but rate of fire. Its a sniper rifle, granted its your Grandfather's sniper rifle, but its still a fucking sniper rifle. The Spear is not, its a battlerifle, and so I won't be including the comparisons here.We tried cleaning them without the ultrasonic cleaner...but I'm not sure these rifles had ever been properly cleaned before.
I've got mixed feelings about the MCX system. It ticks a lot of boxes, short stroke gas piston, no need for a buffer tube or spring, superior handling of gas when suppressed and so on.
However, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of the maintenance? I absolutely despise it. Despite owning a MCX in 300 blackout myself, every cleaning session feels overly complex and time consuming.
We kicked off the afternoon with both rifles, setting up for grouping and zeroing—my rig was outfitted with the Tango 6T sporting the "Hellfire" reticle in MOA, resembling your standard rifle scope setup. His, on the other hand, featured the same Tango 6T but with Hellfire in MILS, decked out with the Christmas tree reticle.
Some time back, I made a comment after my initial rounds with the Spear, labeling it a "tack driver." In hindsight, I probably should have clarified that bit. Typically, when shooting a new rifle, if I land three out of five shots within a 1 to 1.5 MOA spread, I chalk up any outliers to user error rather than blaming the rifle or the ammunition.
However, it appears that assumption was a bit off.
Our zeroing and grouping efforts at 100 yards turned into quite the saga. We found ourselves mostly hitting 3 rounds within the 1 to 1.5 MOA range, but occasionally, one or two shots would balloon the group size to between 2.5 and 3 MOA.
Instead of descending into frustration and stubborn attempts to tighten these groups, we opted to settle for anything under three MOA as acceptable for our purposes and proceeded to finalize our zero.
Side note, my last zero group was my best of the day coming it at just over 2 MOA. My friends best group came in at 1.8, and quite honestly he's a better shot than I am.Research shows that the original specs for the NGSW called for a 4 MOA battle rifle. Despite some noticeable barrel wear on our two test models, both rifles still performed beyond this requirement.
Following our grouping and zeroing session, we spent the remainder of the afternoon plinking with training rounds at 100 yards.
During this, I learned a hard lesson about the non-reciprocating charging handle—it needs to be firmly locked forward before hitting the bolt release on the left side. After a couple of painful mishaps and a few close calls, I finally caught on and made it a routine to ensure the handle was properly set before engaging the bolt release.
I really wanted to get on board with the side charging handle, but after three days, I'm just not a fan. It tended to snag on my gear (Eagle MARCRIS plate carrier) when maneuvering or positioning the rifle to fire, making it less convenient than I had hoped.
Interestingly, I found myself using it more during offhand shooting. I'd instinctively remove my left hand from the pistol grip to work the side charging handle, rather than using my right hand on the traditional top charging handle. Yes, I'm aware this breaks the cardinal rule of keeping your firing hand on the grip, but this method felt more intuitive, similar to operating a bolt-action rifle.
When shooting offhand, the rifle scores highly. I don't often shoot this way, but I encountered none of the usual drawbacks associated with traditional AM platforms. Aside from the tricky side charging handle, the rifle seemed inherently designed for ambidextrous use, which I particularly appreciated when firing left-handed.
I was tempted to launch into a tirade about the ridiculously designed folding stock, but you deserve a more structured critique. Here are the three major gripes:
The stock's release mechanism is a convoluted affair involving an awkward dance of pushing down on the rifle while yanking up on the buttstock just to get it to snap shut.After wrestling with these issues, we wrapped up with a quick cleaning session for the rifles before heading out to the range we’d "camping" at.
Once "closed," the stock doesn't truly secure—it juts out at a precarious 20-degree angle, seemingly relying on mere friction to stay in place, which neither of our samples managed successfully.
The overall build felt flimsy and loose, perhaps a consequence of the extensive wear from firing 8,000 to 10,000 rounds.
The next day, we arrived ready to group, zero, and qualify with a local unit. We had informed them of our visit and assumed everything was squared away with range control.
However, that assumption fell flat. Turns out, the range’s surface danger zones weren’t set up for the 277 Fury. Just as we finished dialing in our zero (.75 inches low at 25m), range control showed up, questioning our activities.
Following an awkward exchange and the diplomatic offering of a case of beer, they agreed to let us continue and even served as Officer in Charge (OIC) and Range Safety Officer (RSO) for the KD range. We proceeded with the old KD qualification, alternating between marking and raising targets, and both of us qualified without any issues.
With some extra time on our hands—and much to the amusement of range control—the session evolved into a lively mix of burpees and sprinting between shooting positions. We experimented with various firing positions and sequences, such as starting from standing unsupported at 100 yards and moving down to kneeling unsupported. This exercise underscored the rifle’s heft yet manageability, while also highlighting how the forward-heavy balance made extended unsupported shooting particularly taxing on the arms and upper back.
The afternoon unfolded with battledrills and land navigation alongside the unit we were scheduled to qualify with. Given the theoretical roles and limited numbers, the platoon leader assigned us to the designated marksman/squad designated marksman roles, which was logical considering we were the only ones equipped with the new rifles while the rest of the squad used M4s.
This setup sparked an intense discussion among the officers about how tactical deployment might shift once the rifle was fully integrated into service. There was plenty of speculation on how military tactics and doctrines would need to adapt to leverage the new capabilities offered by this rifle.
However, I'm somewhat skeptical. I don't see this rifle as the revolutionary game-changer it’s touted to be. While it's undoubtedly suited for the designated marksman role, I doubt the Army will invest the necessary time, money, and resources to train every soldier to this level of proficiency. Consider that there are reserve units that only qualify every four years, often just to help "point-needy" soldiers piggyback for qualification. This rifle won’t alter that reality.
As for the night qualification, we were slated to test that as well, but circumstances didn’t allow for it, so I can’t comment on how the rifle performs at night with night vision devices.
On the third morning, we headed to the LMG range, ready to go full-auto from a bipod, gearing up to tackle the 249 qualification.
Honestly, this was the most amazing shooting experience I've had in ages. The only snag was the 20-round magazine capacity, which felt limiting amid the thrill—it was the only moment of frustration in an otherwise splendid session.
We ran a practice session with the training rounds, followed by a qualification shoot with both the training and combat rounds. By lunchtime, our shoulders were thoroughly sore, but I can't remember the last time I'd grinned that much in a long while.
Post-lunch, we dropped in on some local law enforcement officers who were operating a shoot house. Initially, we navigated the course with M4s to familiarize ourselves with the layout and safety protocols. After getting a handle on things, we switched to the M7s, running through the course using the last of our training rounds, having depleted our combat rounds earlier on the machine gun range.
Both of us found ourselves moving significantly slower with the M7s. Reviewing the footage, it was clear that I was painfully slow to get on target with the M7. It wasn't just about slower movements, but also a delayed response in engagement. Initially, I chalked it up to age, I'm over 50 and a bit heavier than ideal, but the reality struck when I saw I wasn’t this slow with the M4. In fact, I was quicker than some of the officers.
Similarly, my buddy was slower than usual, not lagging behind me, but certainly off his usual pace with the M4.
Interesting side note: We're no longer welcome at that shoot house. The staff was fully aware of our arrival and what we brought along, and everything seemed fine until the exercise wrapped up and we faced some "constructively harsh feedback" about 277 and damage done to the tire and sandbag walls as well as the plywood target backers.
That's rant for another time.
Regarding the suppressor:
It's really more of an enhanced flash hider than a true suppressor. I'm probably a bit biased—shooting a 300 Blackout through a Sig TI suppressor spoils you with its movie hitman silence.
By comparison, the M7 setup was louder than my suppressed .308 shooting 175gr SMK.
On the topic of the optic:
The Tango6 was decent.
The clarity was impressive, and its brightness and MOA configuration were points in its favor.
However, achieving a consistent cheek weld and finding the right optic position for proper eye relief across magnifications 1 through 6, especially from unsupported positions, proved challenging.
The issue could be me, the stock, or the optic itself. While it was somewhat bothersome, it wasn't enough to cause significant frustration.
2024.05.15 22:27 GrimmInDarkness Starborne Terror
When it comes to outer space, what are your first thoughts?
Is it...the infinite expanse? Or the vacuum of stars, galaxies, planets, and moons?
Beautiful as it may be, there are also the negatives.
Such as the absence of air and sound making space a silent and weightless environment. The temperatures vary from extremely hot or freezing cold.
There are things that aren't human. Which can make their way into the tiniest of spaces, and enter into a foreign body draining it dry from the inside.
Michael was the only one alive, sitting alone in the dark corner of his room. He was unsure of when it started, but when the first person collapsed and then the next.
Those people were sent to the medical wing where they could not contain this affliction since they had no idea what it was.
While observing the bodies, they were nothing more than shriveled up leather. Eyes sunken, and void of color. This 'thing' would slither out of the victims' mouths.
It was miniature, violet, and made of ooze.
The ooze is able to turn itself into a haze. In that form, it can easily be inhaled. Entering the body with ease, beginning its feeding frenzy.
How did Michael know this?
Well, to be direct, he came in contact with a crew member who had been infected while checking for survivors. Now, as he looked down at his shriveled legs, he knew soon it would make its way through his main artery.
Hopefully, by leaving this recorded log, anyone who accesses the files will stay clear of this ship and its crew. Space may be beautiful, but there are some things that should stay a mystery.
"Sir, there has been an update to the Star Finder crew's database," a woman with a high bun and glasses swiveled in her chair to face a man sitting behind many screens. He looked over at her.
"Go ahead and play the recording," he pushed himself away from his desk as she clicked on the file. On a big screen in the middle of the room, it showed Michael, who coughed and began talking as he sat in the corner of his room.
"My name is Michael Phillips. Crew member of the Star Finder, recovery division. We were infiltrated by this...ooze " he paused and moved around as if he was in pain.
"I-it can change its shape, turning into this...haze. When it enters inside, this thing siphons everything. Leaving nothing but a leathery husk. I don't know where it came from or if it was because of the storm, but...please, I beg you. Stay away from the Star Finder! There are no survivors here."
The footage ended, turning to static. The woman turned to face the man who sighed, tapping his fingers on his desk.
"Do as he says. There will be no retrieval in case another crew goes through the same. We will figure out a way to dispose of the incident," the man behind the desk told her.
She nodded and put out a warning to other crews not to enter the same area as the Star Finder when a call rang out in the room. As she issued the warning, the man behind the screens answered the ringing phone.
"This is base," the man listened to the voice on the other end, telling him they had come across the idle Star Finder just floating in space. He rose to his feet, slamming a hand onto his desk panicked.
"Don't engage! Turn around!" he yelled, startling his female companion. The voice, on the other end, went silent before questioning why since they had already sent a team over to investigate. Slumping back into his chair, he frowned, gripping the phone tightly in his hand.
"Then there is nothing that I can do for you. I'm sorry," he told them before placing the phone back onto the receiver. It was too late to save any of the crew.
Whatever this thing was, they were at its mercy now.
submitted by GrimmInDarkness to scarystories [link] [comments]
Is it...the infinite expanse? Or the vacuum of stars, galaxies, planets, and moons?
Beautiful as it may be, there are also the negatives.
Such as the absence of air and sound making space a silent and weightless environment. The temperatures vary from extremely hot or freezing cold.
There are things that aren't human. Which can make their way into the tiniest of spaces, and enter into a foreign body draining it dry from the inside.
Michael was the only one alive, sitting alone in the dark corner of his room. He was unsure of when it started, but when the first person collapsed and then the next.
Those people were sent to the medical wing where they could not contain this affliction since they had no idea what it was.
While observing the bodies, they were nothing more than shriveled up leather. Eyes sunken, and void of color. This 'thing' would slither out of the victims' mouths.
It was miniature, violet, and made of ooze.
The ooze is able to turn itself into a haze. In that form, it can easily be inhaled. Entering the body with ease, beginning its feeding frenzy.
How did Michael know this?
Well, to be direct, he came in contact with a crew member who had been infected while checking for survivors. Now, as he looked down at his shriveled legs, he knew soon it would make its way through his main artery.
Hopefully, by leaving this recorded log, anyone who accesses the files will stay clear of this ship and its crew. Space may be beautiful, but there are some things that should stay a mystery.
"Sir, there has been an update to the Star Finder crew's database," a woman with a high bun and glasses swiveled in her chair to face a man sitting behind many screens. He looked over at her.
"Go ahead and play the recording," he pushed himself away from his desk as she clicked on the file. On a big screen in the middle of the room, it showed Michael, who coughed and began talking as he sat in the corner of his room.
"My name is Michael Phillips. Crew member of the Star Finder, recovery division. We were infiltrated by this...ooze " he paused and moved around as if he was in pain.
"I-it can change its shape, turning into this...haze. When it enters inside, this thing siphons everything. Leaving nothing but a leathery husk. I don't know where it came from or if it was because of the storm, but...please, I beg you. Stay away from the Star Finder! There are no survivors here."
The footage ended, turning to static. The woman turned to face the man who sighed, tapping his fingers on his desk.
"Do as he says. There will be no retrieval in case another crew goes through the same. We will figure out a way to dispose of the incident," the man behind the desk told her.
She nodded and put out a warning to other crews not to enter the same area as the Star Finder when a call rang out in the room. As she issued the warning, the man behind the screens answered the ringing phone.
"This is base," the man listened to the voice on the other end, telling him they had come across the idle Star Finder just floating in space. He rose to his feet, slamming a hand onto his desk panicked.
"Don't engage! Turn around!" he yelled, startling his female companion. The voice, on the other end, went silent before questioning why since they had already sent a team over to investigate. Slumping back into his chair, he frowned, gripping the phone tightly in his hand.
"Then there is nothing that I can do for you. I'm sorry," he told them before placing the phone back onto the receiver. It was too late to save any of the crew.
Whatever this thing was, they were at its mercy now.
2024.05.15 22:24 DragonKnov Kunlun Sect's Weakest Disciple: Chapter 18
[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]
"Thank you, Sister Song, for your mercy. I apologize for my impulsiveness and arrogance," Qin Bai said humbly. He respectfully cupped his hands and bowed his head towards Song Jia.
Upon hearing Qin Bai's unexpected words of apology, one of his burlier underlings gasped loudly in shock, his eyes widening. "Brother Qin..." he muttered under his breath.
"No need to apologize. It was our fault for causing trouble," another wiry underling exclaimed tearfully, his voice cracking with emotion as he drew the attention of the rest of the surrounding disciples.
A young man with a mop of unruly brown hair pushed his way through the tightly packed crowd, concern furrowing his brow as he observed the doubt and skepticism on the faces of Qin Bai's underlings.
"It wasn't Brother Qin's fault," he spoke up firmly, his words cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
All eyes turned towards him as the courtyard fell into an uneasy silence broken only by the faint rustling of the willows in the warm breeze. "We were the ones who harassed Sister Song. Brother Qin tried to stop us, but we didn't listen. Please, don't blame our Brother for our mistakes."
Some of the disciples who had witnessed the earlier confrontation were about to protest vehemently, their mouths opening to object, but their voices were drowned out by a rising swell of murmuring whispers and incredulous mutters.
"So it wasn't Qin Bai who harassed Sister Song?"
"What a kind-hearted person! Qin Bai truly possesses the noble spirit of a warrior, even willing to shield his misguided brothers from the consequences of their errors!"
The majority of the late-arriving male disciples, unaware of the deception and lies surrounding the incident, were moved by this apparent show of brotherhood and loyalty, causing the female disciples to clench their jaws in frustration, exchanging exasperated looks and rolling their eyes.
"What's wrong with them...disgusting!" A petite girl with fiery brown hair tied back in a long braid spat out through gritted teeth.
"You think it's acceptable to bully and harass women just because you perceive them as weak?!" Another young woman wearing a sleeveless white robe called out harshly, her voice dripping with scorn as the sunlight glinted off her toned arms.
"Sister Song, please tell them the truth! Don't let them twist the facts!" Cries imploring Song Jia to speak up rang out as disapproving comments and displeased looks were directed at the males vehemently defending Qin Bai's underlings one after another.
Song Jia's lips pressed into a tense line as her focus shifted towards Qin Bai, who still had his head respectfully bowed, his expression unreadable.
If he had spoken out in agreement, it would have surely validated the false accusations against him. However, his loyal underlings spoke as if they themselves were guilty, deliberately complicating the situation.
Qin Bai's words and sincere tone seemed to suggest that nothing untoward had happened from his perspective, causing both Song Jia and the stern-faced Lian Rougang to narrow their eyes suspiciously at him, wondering about his true intentions.
Meanwhile, Lian Rougang shook her head slowly and massaged her temples with her fingers, exhaling a weary sigh. "Sigh...whatever, if you insist, then take responsibility," she muttered under her breath.
Her piercing gaze bored into the eyes of Qin Bai's uneasy underlings, who flinched visibly. She snorted derisively before shifting her penetrating stare towards Qin Bai, who remained utterly still with his head bowed in a posture of contrition.
The salty tang of sweat and tension hung thick in the warm air as Lian Rougang broke the heavy silence. "As members of our esteemed sect, we should not hold deep grudges against one another. We are essentially a family, united by our bond, so..." Her words trailed off as she glanced sidelong at Song Jia from the corner of her eye.
Their eyes met briefly, and although mistrust still flickered behind Song Jia's guarded expression, she gave a reluctant nod, grudgingly accepting Qin Bai's apologies for the sake of harmony within the sect.
Once she accepted, Qin Bai cupped his hands and bowed his head again, this time not towards Song Jia, but towards the stern-faced Lian Rougang.
"Thank you, Senior Sister Lian, for overseeing this meaningless battle," he expressed his gratitude, his deep voice sincere.
In response, Lian Rougang waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, implying that it was not a significant matter. As the gathered disciples surrounded them, observing Qin Bai's second apology with a mix of emotions, the central figure of Wu Gao finally arrived onto the scene.
"Huh? What's going on here?" Wu Gao, dressed in the same austere martial robes as Lian Rougang, strode into the outer disciple courtyard. He found all the Outer Disciples ringed around the center in a loose circle, as if giving a wide berth to something distasteful.
"Greetings, Martial Brother Wu," Lian Rougang called out immediately upon noticing the arrival of Wu Gao, her clear voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.
"Ah, Martial Sister Lian, greetings," Wu Gao responded with a slightly startled blink, recovering quickly to return the courtesy with a polite nod as his observant gaze swept over the gathered disciples ringed around the courtyard.
"Greetings, Senior Brother Wu," the remaining Outer Disciples chorused in respectful unison, following Lian Rougang's prompt. Her posture straightened as she proceeded to recount a brief explanation of the confrontation that had just transpired.
Wu Gao listened with an increasingly widening smile, nodding repeatedly in understanding. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he caught sight of Song Jia standing tall with chin raised confidently.
He then shifted his evaluating gaze towards Qin Bai, noting the absence of any lingering resentment or hostility in the young man's clear, guileless eyes.
"Ah, that's good, good. Both of you have done well in resolving the matter," Wu Gao declared heartily, his rich baritone voice carrying easily across the courtyard.
"But unfortunately, I missed this exciting battle. No matter, let us now prepare for the morning exercise!"
"Please wait, Senior Brother Wu!" However, just as the disciples began to disperse and take their positions, Qin Bai's sudden shout caused Wu Gao's bushy brows to furrow in surprise.
Even Lian Rougang, who had already started to fade back into the background, eager to observe the coming exercises, paused and turned her sharp gaze back towards Qin Bai with renewed interest.
A heavy, expectant silence fell over the courtyard once more as all eyes focused intently on the young disciple. The warm morning breeze carried the faint fragrance of willow blossoms, teasing strands of hair across flushed cheeks.
"Speak, Junior Brother," Wu Gao urged after a prolonged moment, his deep voice resonant.
...
As the gathered disciples leaned in with rapt attention, Ji Wuye, who had been watching the proceedings with a carefully impassive expression from within the crowd, allowed the barest flicker of a sneer to crease his thin lips in secret.
‘So this is what you're truly aiming for? You think you can regain your tarnished reputation and take it out on me in the process?’
The disdainful thoughts flickered through his mind like a fleeting shadow as he noticed Qin Bai's brief sidelong glance in his direction. Their eyes met for the briefest of instants, but Ji Wuye did not flinch or waver, holding the other's gaze with a practiced insouciance.
"I would like to request another official sparring session with Brother Ji," Qin Bai proclaimed boldly, his resonant words instantly capturing the rapt attention of every disciple present.
A surprised murmur rippled through the ranks as heads swiveled towards the object of this unexpected challenge.
Qin Bai's lips curved into a thin, enigmatic smile as he continued, "Isn't that right, Brother Ji? We did make an agreement, after all."
Instead of immediately responding, Ji Wuye's cold eyes scanned the surrounding sea of faces with a calculating weighing gaze.
It was only then that he noticed the unmistakable figure of an Elder observing the unfolding scene from a vantage point on the higher ground near the stairs leading into the central courtyard.
Ji Wuye's sneer deepened minutely as his gaze flickered towards the watching Elder. ‘He's also watching this unfold...’ he muttered under his breath, so low as to be inaudible to those around him.
Unlike many other sects, the prestigious Kunlun Sect was renowned throughout the entire jianghu. Their name and reputation preceded them far and wide.
As such, during the periodic registration periods when they opened their doors to potential new disciples, numerous talented youths would flock from all corners in hopes of being accepted into the hallowed ranks.
However, with the sect's facilities and resources being ultimately limited, they simply could not accept every applicant who showed promise.
To maintain standards and cull the weaker chaff, there was a stringent system in place to expel any Outer Disciples who proved untalented or lacking the required aptitude over time.
In addition to pruning their own rosters, Kunlun, much like the Wudang Sect, also had a certain prestigious reputation to uphold in the Jianghu.
What if word spread that their Outer Disciples were being routinely defeated and humiliated by lowly wandering thugs or ruffians?
Such demoralizing incidents would not only greatly tarnish Kunlun's prestigious name, but could also result in a marked decrease in the number of employment opportunities and mission requests extended to the sect from secular authorities and nobility across the lands.
This, in turn, would translate into a steep decline in their primary source of income and operating funds.
At its core, while internally a bastion of martial artists, a sect like Kunlun was also essentially a professional body of highly-skilled martial artist who earned their keep by rendering specialized protective services to those requiring their martial prowess.
As long as there existed Unorthodox Sects pursuing nefarious ends or Evil Cults wreaking havoc on the populace, there would always be a constant stream of defensive and security missions for Righteous Sects like Kunlun to be contracted.
It was an age-old dynamic, expressed in the simple Jianghu saying: The righteous protect, while the evil robs.
Unlike the Outer Disciple ranks, however, which were culled ruthlessly, every new officially accepted Inner Disciple was essentially guaranteed a permanent place within the sect's ranks by virtue of having demonstrated sufficient skill and talent to potentially handle the various matters and missions the sect was routinely contracted for externally.
It was the Outer Disciples who ultimately bore the brunt of winnowing - those unable to prove their worth were inevitably expelled to open up space and resources for the next crop of hopefuls.
And the sole reason why the openly underwhelming Ji Wuye had been allowed to remain and avoid expulsion thus far despite being widely acknowledged as the weakest disciple in his year...
Ji Wuye heaved an inward sigh as his thoughts turned towards the upcoming evaluation and testing period all Outer Disciples would undergo.
‘This time, it's either submit to being a political pawn in some arranged marriage alliance... or I need to seriously explore other options outside the sect.’
There were undoubtedly both pros and cons to possessing a naturally handsome visage, he knew from bitter experience. The fleetingly wry thought passed through his mind as his sharp eyes caught the subtle, meaningful looks the observing Elder was sending his way.
Indeed, in order to avoid the expelling, that particular Elder had been surreptitiously shielding and protecting Ji Wuye's continued presence within Kunlun's ranks all this time behind the scenes...
So at least, he should have shown some worth, even though he still intends to let the outcome remain the same as in the previous timeline.
[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]
submitted by DragonKnov to HFY [link] [comments]
"Thank you, Sister Song, for your mercy. I apologize for my impulsiveness and arrogance," Qin Bai said humbly. He respectfully cupped his hands and bowed his head towards Song Jia.
Upon hearing Qin Bai's unexpected words of apology, one of his burlier underlings gasped loudly in shock, his eyes widening. "Brother Qin..." he muttered under his breath.
"No need to apologize. It was our fault for causing trouble," another wiry underling exclaimed tearfully, his voice cracking with emotion as he drew the attention of the rest of the surrounding disciples.
A young man with a mop of unruly brown hair pushed his way through the tightly packed crowd, concern furrowing his brow as he observed the doubt and skepticism on the faces of Qin Bai's underlings.
"It wasn't Brother Qin's fault," he spoke up firmly, his words cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
All eyes turned towards him as the courtyard fell into an uneasy silence broken only by the faint rustling of the willows in the warm breeze. "We were the ones who harassed Sister Song. Brother Qin tried to stop us, but we didn't listen. Please, don't blame our Brother for our mistakes."
Some of the disciples who had witnessed the earlier confrontation were about to protest vehemently, their mouths opening to object, but their voices were drowned out by a rising swell of murmuring whispers and incredulous mutters.
"So it wasn't Qin Bai who harassed Sister Song?"
"What a kind-hearted person! Qin Bai truly possesses the noble spirit of a warrior, even willing to shield his misguided brothers from the consequences of their errors!"
The majority of the late-arriving male disciples, unaware of the deception and lies surrounding the incident, were moved by this apparent show of brotherhood and loyalty, causing the female disciples to clench their jaws in frustration, exchanging exasperated looks and rolling their eyes.
"What's wrong with them...disgusting!" A petite girl with fiery brown hair tied back in a long braid spat out through gritted teeth.
"You think it's acceptable to bully and harass women just because you perceive them as weak?!" Another young woman wearing a sleeveless white robe called out harshly, her voice dripping with scorn as the sunlight glinted off her toned arms.
"Sister Song, please tell them the truth! Don't let them twist the facts!" Cries imploring Song Jia to speak up rang out as disapproving comments and displeased looks were directed at the males vehemently defending Qin Bai's underlings one after another.
Song Jia's lips pressed into a tense line as her focus shifted towards Qin Bai, who still had his head respectfully bowed, his expression unreadable.
If he had spoken out in agreement, it would have surely validated the false accusations against him. However, his loyal underlings spoke as if they themselves were guilty, deliberately complicating the situation.
Qin Bai's words and sincere tone seemed to suggest that nothing untoward had happened from his perspective, causing both Song Jia and the stern-faced Lian Rougang to narrow their eyes suspiciously at him, wondering about his true intentions.
Meanwhile, Lian Rougang shook her head slowly and massaged her temples with her fingers, exhaling a weary sigh. "Sigh...whatever, if you insist, then take responsibility," she muttered under her breath.
Her piercing gaze bored into the eyes of Qin Bai's uneasy underlings, who flinched visibly. She snorted derisively before shifting her penetrating stare towards Qin Bai, who remained utterly still with his head bowed in a posture of contrition.
The salty tang of sweat and tension hung thick in the warm air as Lian Rougang broke the heavy silence. "As members of our esteemed sect, we should not hold deep grudges against one another. We are essentially a family, united by our bond, so..." Her words trailed off as she glanced sidelong at Song Jia from the corner of her eye.
Their eyes met briefly, and although mistrust still flickered behind Song Jia's guarded expression, she gave a reluctant nod, grudgingly accepting Qin Bai's apologies for the sake of harmony within the sect.
Once she accepted, Qin Bai cupped his hands and bowed his head again, this time not towards Song Jia, but towards the stern-faced Lian Rougang.
"Thank you, Senior Sister Lian, for overseeing this meaningless battle," he expressed his gratitude, his deep voice sincere.
In response, Lian Rougang waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, implying that it was not a significant matter. As the gathered disciples surrounded them, observing Qin Bai's second apology with a mix of emotions, the central figure of Wu Gao finally arrived onto the scene.
"Huh? What's going on here?" Wu Gao, dressed in the same austere martial robes as Lian Rougang, strode into the outer disciple courtyard. He found all the Outer Disciples ringed around the center in a loose circle, as if giving a wide berth to something distasteful.
"Greetings, Martial Brother Wu," Lian Rougang called out immediately upon noticing the arrival of Wu Gao, her clear voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.
"Ah, Martial Sister Lian, greetings," Wu Gao responded with a slightly startled blink, recovering quickly to return the courtesy with a polite nod as his observant gaze swept over the gathered disciples ringed around the courtyard.
"Greetings, Senior Brother Wu," the remaining Outer Disciples chorused in respectful unison, following Lian Rougang's prompt. Her posture straightened as she proceeded to recount a brief explanation of the confrontation that had just transpired.
Wu Gao listened with an increasingly widening smile, nodding repeatedly in understanding. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he caught sight of Song Jia standing tall with chin raised confidently.
He then shifted his evaluating gaze towards Qin Bai, noting the absence of any lingering resentment or hostility in the young man's clear, guileless eyes.
"Ah, that's good, good. Both of you have done well in resolving the matter," Wu Gao declared heartily, his rich baritone voice carrying easily across the courtyard.
"But unfortunately, I missed this exciting battle. No matter, let us now prepare for the morning exercise!"
"Please wait, Senior Brother Wu!" However, just as the disciples began to disperse and take their positions, Qin Bai's sudden shout caused Wu Gao's bushy brows to furrow in surprise.
Even Lian Rougang, who had already started to fade back into the background, eager to observe the coming exercises, paused and turned her sharp gaze back towards Qin Bai with renewed interest.
A heavy, expectant silence fell over the courtyard once more as all eyes focused intently on the young disciple. The warm morning breeze carried the faint fragrance of willow blossoms, teasing strands of hair across flushed cheeks.
"Speak, Junior Brother," Wu Gao urged after a prolonged moment, his deep voice resonant.
...
As the gathered disciples leaned in with rapt attention, Ji Wuye, who had been watching the proceedings with a carefully impassive expression from within the crowd, allowed the barest flicker of a sneer to crease his thin lips in secret.
‘So this is what you're truly aiming for? You think you can regain your tarnished reputation and take it out on me in the process?’
The disdainful thoughts flickered through his mind like a fleeting shadow as he noticed Qin Bai's brief sidelong glance in his direction. Their eyes met for the briefest of instants, but Ji Wuye did not flinch or waver, holding the other's gaze with a practiced insouciance.
"I would like to request another official sparring session with Brother Ji," Qin Bai proclaimed boldly, his resonant words instantly capturing the rapt attention of every disciple present.
A surprised murmur rippled through the ranks as heads swiveled towards the object of this unexpected challenge.
Qin Bai's lips curved into a thin, enigmatic smile as he continued, "Isn't that right, Brother Ji? We did make an agreement, after all."
Instead of immediately responding, Ji Wuye's cold eyes scanned the surrounding sea of faces with a calculating weighing gaze.
It was only then that he noticed the unmistakable figure of an Elder observing the unfolding scene from a vantage point on the higher ground near the stairs leading into the central courtyard.
Ji Wuye's sneer deepened minutely as his gaze flickered towards the watching Elder. ‘He's also watching this unfold...’ he muttered under his breath, so low as to be inaudible to those around him.
Unlike many other sects, the prestigious Kunlun Sect was renowned throughout the entire jianghu. Their name and reputation preceded them far and wide.
As such, during the periodic registration periods when they opened their doors to potential new disciples, numerous talented youths would flock from all corners in hopes of being accepted into the hallowed ranks.
However, with the sect's facilities and resources being ultimately limited, they simply could not accept every applicant who showed promise.
To maintain standards and cull the weaker chaff, there was a stringent system in place to expel any Outer Disciples who proved untalented or lacking the required aptitude over time.
In addition to pruning their own rosters, Kunlun, much like the Wudang Sect, also had a certain prestigious reputation to uphold in the Jianghu.
What if word spread that their Outer Disciples were being routinely defeated and humiliated by lowly wandering thugs or ruffians?
Such demoralizing incidents would not only greatly tarnish Kunlun's prestigious name, but could also result in a marked decrease in the number of employment opportunities and mission requests extended to the sect from secular authorities and nobility across the lands.
This, in turn, would translate into a steep decline in their primary source of income and operating funds.
At its core, while internally a bastion of martial artists, a sect like Kunlun was also essentially a professional body of highly-skilled martial artist who earned their keep by rendering specialized protective services to those requiring their martial prowess.
As long as there existed Unorthodox Sects pursuing nefarious ends or Evil Cults wreaking havoc on the populace, there would always be a constant stream of defensive and security missions for Righteous Sects like Kunlun to be contracted.
It was an age-old dynamic, expressed in the simple Jianghu saying: The righteous protect, while the evil robs.
Unlike the Outer Disciple ranks, however, which were culled ruthlessly, every new officially accepted Inner Disciple was essentially guaranteed a permanent place within the sect's ranks by virtue of having demonstrated sufficient skill and talent to potentially handle the various matters and missions the sect was routinely contracted for externally.
It was the Outer Disciples who ultimately bore the brunt of winnowing - those unable to prove their worth were inevitably expelled to open up space and resources for the next crop of hopefuls.
And the sole reason why the openly underwhelming Ji Wuye had been allowed to remain and avoid expulsion thus far despite being widely acknowledged as the weakest disciple in his year...
Ji Wuye heaved an inward sigh as his thoughts turned towards the upcoming evaluation and testing period all Outer Disciples would undergo.
‘This time, it's either submit to being a political pawn in some arranged marriage alliance... or I need to seriously explore other options outside the sect.’
There were undoubtedly both pros and cons to possessing a naturally handsome visage, he knew from bitter experience. The fleetingly wry thought passed through his mind as his sharp eyes caught the subtle, meaningful looks the observing Elder was sending his way.
Indeed, in order to avoid the expelling, that particular Elder had been surreptitiously shielding and protecting Ji Wuye's continued presence within Kunlun's ranks all this time behind the scenes...
So at least, he should have shown some worth, even though he still intends to let the outcome remain the same as in the previous timeline.
[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]
2024.05.15 22:19 diariu The more i get the more its a fight
Got my fifth recently and for the first time i knew it was a dream as soon i picked my phone from under the bad to see the time, phone no battery, i feel another phone pick it up and its the same, i dont have 2 identical phones
I think to myself ok im dreaming statmrting to worry
I look left, im on the couch from one corner to another, cats walks from behind me to left next to me
I see my cat, she stops and starts looking at me, i see my other cat, as i do my arms start getting heavier as if they are falling asleep
At this point im 100% sure i am sleeping and noticing i cant move anything i know im in a sleep paralisis episode
I start trying to blow air at my cat next to meto make her move or just to do something, anything while i think in my head "wake up waaake up wake up" over and over again because i wanted to wake up before it got scary
Then i see third cat left, or at least what looks like to be a third cat since ita behind my 2 cats and i can only see hears moving down the couch in direction of my feet
At this point i try extremely hard to think wake up wake up screaming it in my head non stop
I have only 2 cats. That wadnt my cat, idk if it was even a cat i didnt want to try look down, i kept my eyes up
I scream and scream trying my hardest
Like 15 seconds and i hear a "musnfp" or at least something high high pitched that would come from a small animal, and it sounded like when you hear a foreign language, you know its a word but you cant understand it
That sound comming from direction of third cat made me instantly wake up, where i realize i was in the same exact position i was in my dream. Didnt move an inch. Looking left i see cat sleeping on her favorite spot, same where in dream she looked at me. Kther cat right behind me on one of his spots.
Usually i didnt know what happen until i woke up all sweaty and scared jumping up
Now i woke up calm after being aware of what was happening in my dream.
I fear next time thw voice wont make me wake up. I dont want to see anything, i just want to wake up from a boring dream
submitted by diariu to Sleepparalysis [link] [comments]
I think to myself ok im dreaming statmrting to worry
I look left, im on the couch from one corner to another, cats walks from behind me to left next to me
I see my cat, she stops and starts looking at me, i see my other cat, as i do my arms start getting heavier as if they are falling asleep
At this point im 100% sure i am sleeping and noticing i cant move anything i know im in a sleep paralisis episode
I start trying to blow air at my cat next to meto make her move or just to do something, anything while i think in my head "wake up waaake up wake up" over and over again because i wanted to wake up before it got scary
Then i see third cat left, or at least what looks like to be a third cat since ita behind my 2 cats and i can only see hears moving down the couch in direction of my feet
At this point i try extremely hard to think wake up wake up screaming it in my head non stop
I have only 2 cats. That wadnt my cat, idk if it was even a cat i didnt want to try look down, i kept my eyes up
I scream and scream trying my hardest
Like 15 seconds and i hear a "musnfp" or at least something high high pitched that would come from a small animal, and it sounded like when you hear a foreign language, you know its a word but you cant understand it
That sound comming from direction of third cat made me instantly wake up, where i realize i was in the same exact position i was in my dream. Didnt move an inch. Looking left i see cat sleeping on her favorite spot, same where in dream she looked at me. Kther cat right behind me on one of his spots.
Usually i didnt know what happen until i woke up all sweaty and scared jumping up
Now i woke up calm after being aware of what was happening in my dream.
I fear next time thw voice wont make me wake up. I dont want to see anything, i just want to wake up from a boring dream
2024.05.15 22:19 another_meme_account my cat nurses a blanket every time she hears whistled tunes?
 | my lovely kitty (3 years old) was adopted from a shelter around january. she was found in a parking lot, and was visibly domesticated. however, from time to time she nurses blankets, which in itself is normal behavior for cats. however, most of the time, the trigger for her is whistling. not like a "jingle" whistle, i mean melodies. i'm a rather musical person so i whistle often, consciously or not, and she will come up to my lap, bump her head into mine (she did that at the shelter too), look for a blanket (sometimes she tries to latch onto my arm or pant leg). if she finds one she will knead it with all four paws and suckle on it for 5-15 minutes on end. if she can't find it, she will meow until i stop whistling. when she kneads, she is completely entranced, distracted by nothing, purring like an engine, while generally she doesn't purr much and dislikes being pet. does anyone know why whistling specifically triggers that in her? does anyone else's cat do that? submitted by another_meme_account to cats [link] [comments] if it matters, her "favorite" whistled tunes that she pays the most attention to are the canyons theme from little big planet, aria marth and wet hands from minecraft. |
2024.05.15 22:18 ftmfish One year arm progress. Mirrored pic of right arm
 | Increase in size, vascularity, and comments from random people: I have made arm progress. I added in incline curls which are great for full extension. Today I did 30lb each hand 3 sets 6-8 reps, vs last year I did 10 or 12.5lb 3 sets of 12-15 because I’d never pushed my arms in terms of strength, and hadn’t curled with full extension. Pull ups have also increased from getting 6 in a row max to 13 in a row max. submitted by ftmfish to FTMFitness [link] [comments] Biggest takeaway for ftm specific fitness is that we don’t push ourselves enough in terms of strength whether on T or not. That means lifting heavier weights even if it means lowering rep range just to see what I’m capable of. I happen to be 2.5 years on T and I never pushed my weight limitations pre T because I didn’t see it socially. I thought I’d get somewhere with higher and higher reps. Now that I’m experiencing it I wish I’d known pre T as well. |
2024.05.15 22:17 Competitive_Ad_2648 Where would scale this fictional version of Sheitan's evilness? (List is in post)
 | https://preview.redd.it/y76gx52sen0d1.png?width=640&format=png&auto=webp&s=b0360182194c91cd854b3482c31f3b6012768bcc submitted by Competitive_Ad_2648 to PowerScaling [link] [comments] He's fictional version of Sheitan from Turkish TV Series called "Şeytan" (Sheitan in Turkish). Sheitan is basically Satan of my religion (Islam). Here's list: BEFORE THE SERIES AND OVERALL OF THE SERIES ⦁ By not prostrating to Prophet Adam (a.s.) and Prophet Eve (a.s.), he arrogantly declared that he was superior to them and all humanity. ⦁ He constantly says that he's a test for humanity. But do not think that it was created that way. He wanted to be like that. ⦁ Although he knows that he will go to Hell, due to his arrogance and to show Allah (swt) that he can bind people to himself and lead them to evil paths, he leads people astray, leads them to evil and irreligion, tries to be the owner of people and drags them to Hell, the place of eternal pain. ⦁ Throughout the series, children and adults, usually children, catch a whiff of it. This scent is implied to be a physical manifestation of his sins. ⦁ He takes great pleasure in dragging people into evil and Hell. ⦁ He suffers when he hears the name of Allah (swt) mentioned and sees goodness. In short, the guy can't stand these two things. ⦁ He usually calls people Adam or Eve, showing that he sees them all the same. ⦁ He makes fun of humanity. ⦁ He constantly stalks the main characters. ⦁ He trespasses too many places. ⦁ At the end of the episodes, he usually addresses the main characters and says, "I am your test. I will come again." He clearly states that he will not leave them. ⦁ The sections below are just a sampling of what they do. ⦁ Sometimes people's hands burn while holding them. ⦁ He gets very angry when he doesn't get what he wants. ⦁ He hates love. ⦁ He makes evil laugh. ⦁ He enjoyed everything he caused. EPISODE 1 ⦁ After giving money to Oktay with the agreement, the TV in the background tells the story of the loss of the money donated for children, which was the same amount as the money given with the agreement. This implies that Sheitan stole the donation and gave it to Oktay. ⦁ He sends another businessman, with whom he made a deal, to give evil advices to Oktay. This succeeds and Oktay begins to commit corruption. ⦁ He indirectly caused Oktay to oppress the weak, bribe and send death threats. And he enjoys it very much. ⦁ He asks Oktay to take his younger son Egemen as per the agreement. ⦁ He enters Oktay's dreams and tortures him psychologically by showing him terrible things. ⦁ To get Egemen, he threatens to bankrupt Oktay's company by tampering with his bank transactions. ⦁ While he was on the road, he came across a child crying because he was hungry. He tries to deceive him with food to become his owner, but fails. ⦁ While talking to Oktay in a cafe, he psychologically abuses him by showing him a child being shot to death in his dream. ⦁ He scares a nanny into kidnapping Egemen. ⦁ After training Egemen for 15 years to be what he wants, he sends him to kill his father, Oktay. But this fails when Oktay makes Egemen recite the basmala. EPISODE 2 ⦁ While Ece was driving with her newlywed husband, the car broke down. Later, while they're hanging out outside, a truck pulls up. Her husband narrowly saves Ece, but he falls into a coma. Sheitan's attitude at that moment implies, at least for me, that he ruined the car to cause the accident to happen. ⦁ He enters the husband's dreams and tells him that he will wake him up from his coma in exchange for him giving up his "heart" (which probably means giving up being a good person and becoming a bad person). This won't happen because Ece always comes. ⦁ Therefore, in order to deter Ece, he first comes to Ece as an old man and tries to dissuade Ece from coming to her husband, but it does not work. ⦁ He then makes a deal with another man. According to the agreement, he will teach the man how to have relationships with women, and the man will direct Ece to cheat on her husband with him, thus enabling her to move away from her husband. ⦁ He constantly verbally harasses Ece's husband until the night he manipulates him into cheating on her. ⦁ Once, he even tries to deceive husband by showing him something unreal, a scene in which Ece is having fun with the man she made a deal with, and Ece has not yet established a full relationship with that man. But Allah (swt) solves the situation at that moment by sending Ece's voice to the husband. ⦁ Finally, when Ece cheats on her husband, he reveals it to husband, bringing him to a psychological breaking point. He then encouraged violence against the woman by saying things to her such as "Say yes, give your heart and teach that woman a lesson.". When the Quran is read at that moment, things go wrong. Finally Sheitan kills the man. Allah (swt) resurrects the man, but this does not alleviate what Sheitan has done. ⦁ Finally, he encourages Ece, who was preparing to commit suicide, even more, but this does not work either when Ece's husband arrives. EPISODE 3 ⦁ He decided to disperse a family because they teach their children about Surah Nas and Islam. ⦁ He allies with mother Amine's friend Afet. Afet constantly tells Amine that her husband may be cheating on her, sowing the seed of doubt in Amine. ⦁ While Amine and her children were at the dinner table, she appeared to the little boy on the balcony and made him cry out of fear. This cry becomes the breaking point for Amine, whose psychology deteriorates because the seeds of doubt are planted in her, and she hits the little boy. As a result, Sheitan indirectly causes child abuse. ⦁ As a detective, he secretly follows Amine's husband and takes a photo of him holding a woman as she falls, and then gives it to Amine. Amine, whose perception is already distorted due to the doubt inside her, sees this as proof that her husband is cheating on her and takes the children and leaves her husband. While leaving her husband, she insults him and he slaps her. In other words, Afet and Sheitanboth separated husband and wife and indirectly caused violence against women. ⦁ Afet comes to Amine's husband and tells him to cheat on her in exchange for Amine's abandonment. This is probably the work of Sheitan. ⦁ He and Afet almost caused the family to break up. ⦁ He said he loved Afet. But that was probably because she was so bad like him. ⦁ When things start to turn out the opposite of what he wants, he threatens Afet to fix the situation. This situation causes Afet to die in a car accident. EPISODE 4 ⦁ After luring Emin with money when he was a child, he scared Emin by showing him himself, giving him a trauma that would cause him to have nightmares until adulthood. He probably did it for pleasure. ⦁ Just to encourage Emin to steal money, he got into the same job as Emin and encouraged him to steal money. Like, in most of the episode. And he succeeds in this. ⦁ Emin's wife says that when she saw him, she felt as if she had seen him before. Considering the wife's fondness for illicit money, this may imply that Sheitan is the reason for her becoming this way. ⦁ He referred to the donation of food used for orphans as "using the mind". ⦁ While Emin was psychologically at the bottom, he took advantage of his situation and tried to make him see himself as his master. And also because he makes corrupt people call him master, he makes them live in luxury and makes sure no one calls them thieves. EPISODE 5 ⦁ He scared the girl and caused the Zeynep to have an asthma attack. ⦁ To provoke the mother-in-law of Zeynep, he disguised himself as a old lady neighbor and told her fake stories, such as her being thrown out of the house by her daughter-in-law. He also tried to convince the mother-in-law that her son was paying attention to his daughter-in-law instead of her. And he succeeds in this for a while. ⦁ He makes Zeynep's friend beautiful enough to make men fall in love with her as her slaves, so that she can confuse men's minds and fill them with lust. He also uses her to handle his gaslighting with the Zeynep's mother-in-law. ⦁ He was trying to stop Zeynep's aunt by whispering because she was an obstacle to his work. ⦁ In one scene, while Zeynep is directly next to her husband and the mother-in-law is listening a little away, Sheitanleans next to her and Zeynep directly says bad things about the mother-in-law. The next scene was directly between Zeynep and her husband and they were normal. My guess is that Sheitan played with the mother-in-law's mind. ⦁ In order to separate Zeynep and her husband, the mother-in-law and he makes a potion with a witch. Once the husband drinks this potion, he will immediately hate his wife the next day. This potion is useless as it spills. ⦁ She encourages the mother-in-law to separate her son and Zeynep. The mother-in-law ruined her son's clothes by scratching them so that her son and Zeynep could separate, and slandered Zeynep about cheating. ⦁ He persuades the mother-in-law to slander Zeynep. And it works for a while but aunt fixes everything. ⦁ He almost caused the family to break up. ⦁ He made the mother-in-law a bad person. And this mother-in-law had taken her son from the bad way at the beginning of the episode. ⦁ He exposes the mother-in-law for what she did to her son and causes the mother-in-law to be kicked out of the house. ⦁ When the mother-in-law starts going to the sea to commit suicide, he takes pleasure in it. He hates it when Zeynep saves the mother-in-law. EPISODE 6 ⦁ He helped Bahar separate Fazıl, an old man, from his wife, tie him to her, and almost take over the company. After scaring her, of course. ⦁ As plan B, Bahar kill Fazıl's wife by dropping her and Sheitan helps her. Sheitan tastes the blood of the dead woman. Fazıl covers up the incident by saying that it was a suicide. ⦁ He tries to get her to cause an accident to stop a police officer investigating the murder. ⦁ While Fazıl's daughter was crying, he secretly made fun of her. ⦁ He convinces Bahar to kill Fazıl's son. He leaves Bahar just as the police arrive. Fazıl's son does not die. EPISODE 7 ⦁ He drops money on the road, causing two close friends to fight each other for gold. He tries to do the same thing to children, but it doesn't work because children are pure good. When it doesn't work, he vanishes the gold. ⦁ He tries to lead Adam, who is pure good, into a bad path and tie him to himself and become his master. ⦁ For this reason, he first tries to become his assistant, but fails. He then decides to corrupt her with love. For this, He gives a disease to a woman named Eva (only her name is foreign and she is Turkish) with the magic on the shoe. ⦁ He arranges for Eva to be sent to Adem's hospital for surgery by Adem. There he makes Adam fall in love with Eva. He then tries to get him closer to Eva. ⦁ He calls someone a fool for giving him his money. ⦁ He tries to impose on her the state of love corrupted by lust and desire. ⦁ Later, after giving Eva an illness, he kidnaps her to Adem's house, telling her father, with whom he is friends, that he will take her to the clinic. ⦁ He gives him a knife to keep Eva at home. ⦁ He causes Adam to seemingly "attempt to rape and murder" Eva and "go down the wrong path". And he called him "True Lover" because of that. ⦁ He makes an offer to Adam, who regrets what he did: If he kisses her hand (which means he becomes her master), he can destroy the corpse, make other women fall in love with him, and even resurrect Eva. Just as Adem was about to kiss his hand, Eva's guards arrived, so no deal could be made. At that moment, Sheitanexposes Adam, causing him to be "shot to death." ⦁ When he returned to Istanbul 10 years later, while reading the news of war, murder, hunger, unemployment and terrorism in the newspaper, he laughed and thought that its smell had spread throughout the city, in short, the whole city was mired in sin. ⦁ Later, when he learns that Adem and Eva's "death" was actually a trap made for him and that the duo did not die but became parents, he goes crazy. ⦁ He then tells the duo that he will follow them both constantly and will take over the Earth and humanity. EPISODE 8 ⦁ He plans to use a new discovery regarding stem cells to turn humanity into freak creatures. ⦁ In order to steal the formulas, he disguises himself as the university principal and asks for the formulas, but it does not work. ⦁ He whispers to a security guard not to let the mother of the Ayşe, who finded the formula, in because she was wearing a headscarf (I think that part is about Hijab Ban. For those who don't know, there were bans on wearing Hijabs in Turkiye at that time). ⦁ He encourages Ayşe's father-in-law to take the formulas with him. ⦁ They knock Ayşe unconscious and kidnap Ayşe's husband and ask for the formulas in return for her husband. And they do this while Ayşe is pregnant. ⦁ When Ayşe's brother goes to save Ayşe's husband, he scares him, causing his location to be revealed and him being taken as a hostage. ⦁ As Plan B, he tries to have Ayşe's father-in-law kill Ayşe, Ayşe's husband and Ayşe's brother. But at that moment, the father-in-law probably gives up because of the effect of the adhan recited at that moment. EPISODE 9 ⦁ In the first minute, he causes a father to have a car accident and die by making him look at his phone while in the car. ⦁ He puts misgivings and doubts in the mind of the dead man's wife about the factory partnership. ⦁ He whispers to Cengiz Bey that he should not give deceased man's, who is Cengiz's brother, son the factory when he turns 18. And he succeeds. ⦁ He whispers to provoke Cengiz's wife against the dead man's wife. ⦁ He whispers to Cengiz's wife to try to prevent money from being given to the dead man's wife. ⦁ He drags Cengiz down a bad path. He makes him selfish and bad guy. ⦁ He showed Cengiz's wife as if she was in a car accident. ⦁ He comes to Cengiz as a businessman who controls all the countries and establishes a partnership with him. Later, he smuggles drugs with him. ⦁ Cengiz's brother's son, who has a right to work in that factory, verbally abused him while he was mentally destroyed, saying that no one loved him. This caused the child to hit the glass with his hand, injuring his hand, and to turn into a problematic person within 4 years. ⦁ He whispers to the dead man's son to kill Cengiz. But the dead man's wife prevents her son from killing Genghis. EPISODE 10 ⦁ He decides to break Şükran's relationship and take her heart, which probably means taking the goodness out of her. ⦁ He takes over a girl's body and hits the cabinets with it until her hands bleed, insults Şükran and causes a mental breakdown in that girl he taked over. ⦁ It brings gratitude into dreams. He then psychologically tortured her by chasing her and posing as her lover in her dreams . ⦁ He watched as Hülya undressed and changed... While watching, she said "Ooh. Tsk Tsk Tsk." It made sounds like... ⦁ Looks like he made a deal with Hülya. According to the agreement, he will give Hülya beauty and attracting men. He would also receive his debt later. He asks him to help him with his business with Şükran to pay off his debt. He also physically and mentally abused her by calling her ugly and pressing her face against the glass. You can understand from Hülya's reactions that it has a great impact on him. ⦁ He exploits Şükran's fear that something will happen to her mother, who has a heart problem. Shows nightmares about it. ⦁ He threatens Hülya by holding her out the window to make her hurry up. ⦁ Hülya moves from studying with Şükran's boyfriend to caressing her head. While Sheitanconvinces Şükran that she needs money to go home for her mother, he suddenly decides to direct her to Hülya. When Şükran goes to her boyfriend's house, she sees Hülya caressing his head. When he sees that Beloved is cheating on him, he breaks up with her. ⦁ He tells Hülya to leave Şükran completely alone. Hülya calls Şükran's friend to "hitchhike to Izmir". ⦁ It suppresses Şükran's mother's heart and causes a lot of discomfort. Considering the pacing of that scene, he was probably trying to kill her or at least do her some harm. ⦁ When a car arrives and Hülya gets into it, Sheitanwhispers to Şükran's friend to get into that car. Then Hülya leaves the car and abandons her, and the men kidnap her. The wounds on her body and her reactions show that the men who kidnapped her did very bad things to her. ⦁ He secretly directs Şükran to be a babysitter at a house. Şükran comes to her while she is babysitting and shows her a fake proof that her mother is in a hospital. He then says that there is only one solution for humanity and that he can solve the problem in exchange for his heart. Later, when the owner comes, he tells her to tell owner that she wants to go. Şükran does this by threatening her with the vase. He then takes her hitchhiking in a car and tries to do the same thing to her that happened to his friend. Fortunately, Şükran quickly resolves the situation, gets out of the car and confronts Satan. EPISODE 11 ⦁ To ensure that vendetta continues and Yusuf or Ahmet's wife shoot Osman, he tells Ahmet's wife that he will give Osman's, who now lives a normal life with his sisters after changing his surname, location in exchange for her coming as a friend of Ahmet and convincing Yusuf, who is Ahmet's son, to shoot Osman, that have a father who shot Ahmet out of vendetta. ⦁ When Yusuf, tired of the nightmares he sees, decides to kill Osman, Sheitantells Ahmet's wife that Osman is in Istanbul. And Yusuf goes to Istanbul. ⦁ He later helps Yusuf continue his feud by things like giving him a house. For some reason, he places Yusuf in the house near Osman's house. I don't know why he did this, but he must have had a bad reason because... We're talking about the devil, he's probably planning something. ⦁ He drops Cemile's ,One of Osman's sisters, the bag in her hand and compares with Yusuf, whom she loved as a child but cannot recognize now, so he can find Osman but it accidently makes Yusuf fall in love with her again. ⦁ Yusuf gives up his blood feud after falling in love. For this reason, he tells Ahmet's wife that his son Yusuf left his blood feud and is in a relationship with Osman's sister Cemile. Ahmet's wife then decides to go to Istanbul with Sheitan, who disguised as Ahmet's friend, and meet with Yusuf, or to shoot Osman herself. ⦁ He disguises herself as his mother and goes to Yusuf and speaks like Yusuf's mother. ⦁ While talking to Ahmet's wife, when Ahmet's wife wonders about being called "Hevva", he forces him to sleep. He did this on the bus too. ⦁ He crushes a flower too much with a shoe while talking about continuing their feud and causing bloodshed. ⦁ He encourages Ahmet's wife to shoot Osman. This causes Ahmet's wife to shoot Yusuf, her own son, while trying to shoot Osman and stay in prison for a long time. Fortunately, Yusuf recovered, married Cemile and forgave his mother. EPISODE 12 ⦁ He goes to Ayla Bacı, a fortune teller, and shows her people burying their father's body, he goes there and gives someone the chills. Then it comes back. Then he asks the fortune teller to help him bind people to him. The fortune teller also accepts. ⦁ He whispers to Cemal, who is so fond of wordly goods that he cares about them instead of his father-in-law, to increase this fondness in him. ⦁ He enters the house of Cemal. Then he makes him leave his money under the board and makes him forget what he did. ⦁ He whispers to Cemal to make it seem as if Yakup, who is Cemal's brother who wanted money for buying a farm, will take over all of Cemal's money. Then he whispers to Yakup but it doesn't work. ⦁ He stops the heart of the man, who gave Yakup enough money to pay for farm in exchange for tobacco, just because he gived enough money for farm to Yahup. And he makes a evil laugh after he killed the man with stopping heart. ⦁ While Cemal goes crazy when he cannot find the money, Sheitan enjoyed it. ⦁ He says that he likes people like Fortune Teller and Psychics who pretend to have powers and defraud people. ⦁ He helps Sister Ayla commit fraud, such as giving information about a husband who is cheating on his wife, telling a famous girl to have a romance with her manager. ⦁ He disguises himself as Cemal's friend and directs him to the Ayla Bacı. ⦁ Sheitantells Ayla Bacı to defraud Cemal by telling Cemal that Yakup stole the money and lied about tobacco. Yakup cannot prove himself because the man who gave the money dies without taking the tobacco or going to the hotel. ⦁ He provokes Cemal against Yakup. ⦁ He causes a fight between Yakup and Cemal and laughs about it. ⦁ He directs Alya Bacı to direct a mob to kill Yakup. Of course, at that moment, he was thinking about not helping Alya Bacı and getting her in trouble. Mob goes to kill Yakup but leader get crashed into the car. ⦁ Sheitan directs Alya Bacı and Cemal to dig up Yakup's garden. This causes a fight. ⦁ He disguises himself as Alya Bacı and directs Cemal to threaten Yakup with a gun. This causes Cemal to accidentally shoot himself and fall into a wheelchair. ⦁ After that Sheitan disguises himself as Alya Bacı and provokes Cemal against Yakup. ⦁ He provokes Cemal to kill Yakup. This causes Cemal to shoot Yakup's arm while attempting to kill Yakup. ⦁ While the two are in the hospital, he tries to provoke Yakup against Cemal, but the two forgive each other. |
2024.05.15 22:14 Due_Appearance8014 Help, Overdid TREE and now seeing scary images when I close my eyes or try to sleep
I just laid down for a moment and when I closed my eyes I feel anxious, scared even, out of nowhere. Just as I felt myself drifting to sleep, a disturbing image flasehd in my mind and made feel extremely scared. My hands are cold and shaking, my arms and legs feel weak and i feel physically sick.
I did an unplanned TRE session yesterday. It was a bad choice. I was listening to music when, at the climax of the song, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry and scream, then to laugh. I felt kind of good after this. I felt my body wanting to tremor, so I said, why not? Just for a moment and then I'll stop (since I've overdone it in the past and suffered similar, lighter symptoms). I'd calculate about 5 minutes total. It wasn't continuous, I stopped and started a couple of times to try and look for any feelings or sensations. I was previously doing 2.5 minutes with no side effects.
Didn't notice anything weird until a couple of hours later. I was feeling dissociated, but this receded at night. I went to sleep and woke up early, feeling uneasy, sensible and lightly frightened. When I tried to go back I also felt as if something scary was trying to appear in my mind so I got up.
At 11am I was feeling weak, sensible and sad. Even the usually anxiety was gone, but replaced by the fear of having overdone it. Now it's 2pm and I was starting to go back to normal but when I laid down, first paragraph happened.
Please help. Is there anything I can do to get through this faster? Could meditation help? How long will it last and how do I process this? Im quite scared.
(I have CPTSD and more recent, specific PTSD. Please tell me this is going to pass).
submitted by Due_Appearance8014 to longtermTRE [link] [comments]
I did an unplanned TRE session yesterday. It was a bad choice. I was listening to music when, at the climax of the song, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry and scream, then to laugh. I felt kind of good after this. I felt my body wanting to tremor, so I said, why not? Just for a moment and then I'll stop (since I've overdone it in the past and suffered similar, lighter symptoms). I'd calculate about 5 minutes total. It wasn't continuous, I stopped and started a couple of times to try and look for any feelings or sensations. I was previously doing 2.5 minutes with no side effects.
Didn't notice anything weird until a couple of hours later. I was feeling dissociated, but this receded at night. I went to sleep and woke up early, feeling uneasy, sensible and lightly frightened. When I tried to go back I also felt as if something scary was trying to appear in my mind so I got up.
At 11am I was feeling weak, sensible and sad. Even the usually anxiety was gone, but replaced by the fear of having overdone it. Now it's 2pm and I was starting to go back to normal but when I laid down, first paragraph happened.
Please help. Is there anything I can do to get through this faster? Could meditation help? How long will it last and how do I process this? Im quite scared.
(I have CPTSD and more recent, specific PTSD. Please tell me this is going to pass).
2024.05.15 22:14 RVAIsTheGreatest Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down, or Thumbs Across on KJ Simpson
Former Colorado Buffaloes PG KJ Simpson declared for the draft and is 100% committed: https://twitter.com/KSimpsonJstatus/1778862077618118765 Simpson committed to Arizona out of high school as a four star recruit but decommitted after Sean Miller was fired and chose to play for Colorado. He was on the Pac 12 All Freshman team as a rookie, Second team All Pac 12 as a sophomore, and First team All Pac 12 as a junior, averaging 20/6/5. Advanced metrics and impact stats ranked Simpson as a top 5-10 player this past season in college basketball.
Simpson measured in at 6'0.25 w/out shoes at the combine. 6'4.5 wingspan which is solid for a smaller guard. He's 6'1.5 or so in shoes which is close to what he measured in at Colorado. He's a small guard but plays with grit and toughness. He tested well athletically....agility and speed at pluses for him and he can also elevate quite surprisingly at times. He's a below the rim finisher overall but he can elevate with time/space and when he can really load.
Although he's fast in a straight line and extremely shifty, he's doesn't have tremendous burst in the halfcourt offensively, nor is he elite laterally defensively. But he uses craft and timing to play quicker than he is on the offensive end in the halfcourt.
Simpson has some of the most shake as a ballhandler in this class. He has a very tight handle and can handle in tight spaces, can break double teams, has tons of different counters, fakes, combos in his disposal, can drive with both hands, hesitations and in-and-outs that get defenders off balance...awesome at the hostage dribble, rising up and drawing fouls behind his back or creating space to finish at the basket, misdirections. He is one of the best PnR ballhandlers and playmakers in this class...really has a sixth sense of understanding pacing. He's fantastic at snaking the PnR and creating looks for himself or making plays for his teammates....he hits his teammates in their pockets. From the perimeter and the post. Cutters, shooters, dump off men...you name it. Scoops, bounce passes, baseball passes, cutters, skip passes, lobs. He's got a lot of different tricks in his bag and really slings the ball around the floor. Creative and hits tight windows on time. Elite out of bounds passer, consistently finds the big or a cutter for easy baskets and/or fouls. He'll hook guys arms and draw fouls on them in the PnR. You can't rush him as a creator or playmaker. He finds gaps, he probes decisively, and he makes plays.
Simpson is one of the very best outlet passers in this class. He loves the hit ahead pass. He's awesome in transition. His speed is a force in transition. He always keeps his head up. Maintains full court awareness and has amazing timing as a passer. Not just the timing but the accuracy and the ability to make dimes with both hands and the versatility as a passer. His understanding of what kind of pass to make depending on the circumstance. The pass itself and the touch and direction of the pass. He's a great ball mover and the kind of passer who thinks a pass ahead---he often makes a pass with the idea of creating an open look with the next pass by a teammate after that. He passes teammates open, makes very quick reads and is an awesome processor, which makes him an great playmaker.
Simpson does take risks as a passer and will turn the ball over, which will come with the territory of his style of play, but only had a 14% turnover rate which is an overall good number for someone who is fairly ball dominant.
He likes the up and under and he loves the behind the back baseline move. He uses misdirection dribbles a lot to surprise defenders and rejects screens. His timing and craft allow him to play quicker than he is and gain a step often but not always in the halfcourt. If you can hang with his initial moves, he's simply not big enough and doesn't have the explosiveness to create enough separation to finish cleanly around the rim. His touch around the rim isn't incredible for a guy who's a fantastic shooter, he misses bunnies around the rim or doesn't display very good accuracy on touch shots at the rim. He does have very good touch on his floater and diversity...can use both hands, he changes the flight of his floater depending on the circumstance, and he's someone who can stop on a dime from full speed and has fantastic body control with the floater. He will use the jump stop and he has pretty long range with his floater. His all around rim numbers were not anything to write home about this season and never were in college. He plays strong, and will use his strength to muscle balls up at the rim and create contact or finish through contact. He has ball fakes, head fakes at his disposal. The hostage dribble keeps guys on his back. He got to the line 5 times a game which is a great number for a 6'1 guard and made 88%. I think that's a part of his game that will translate at the next level, but his raw finishing will likely never be a strength of his. His ability to pressure the rim is an important trait for any smaller guard to have, however, and makes him an all around scoring weapon and offensive force.
Simpson is an awesome pull up shooter. That helps alleviate concerns surrounding his finishing. He's got fantastic balance and footwork as a pull up shooter and he can rise up on a dime which makes his shot very difficult to contest. He was an elite shooter all around this year, after being a mediocre one his first two seasons in college. He really worked hard on his jumper during the summer of 2023 and it paid off. He's got great mechanics as a shooter. His mechanics as a shooter are very clean, with a quick trigger. He is an elite PnR pull up shooter. He doesn't need much space to fire. He simply does an expert job of creating space for himself as a shooter in the PnR and actually using the big to his advantage on ball, and he will screen himself and create open shots for teammates which is what the attention he requires opens up for teammates. He will make fantastic reads as a passer as he's coming off screens out of DHO's.
He is one of the better off ball movers in this class. He's a great cutter, that lulls defenders to sleep and quickly dives to the rim and loves to cut to the rim with his defender navigating traffic, he is great at relocations off ball, he flies off screens on the perimeter, and he's always ready on the catch. He's one of the best C&S guys in this class. He's always on balance and square to the basket. Simpson shot 44% from 3 on 5 attempts a game and has very deep range; he's someone that extends a defense far from the basket with the range he has.
He loves the pull up baseline in the midrange. He sells the drive with his final step before rising up. He makes shots over contests. He can occasionally have pull ups blocked because of his size. He is very good at feeling the defender, and either spinning off their body or simply deftly stepping back and quickly rising up and hitting pull ups in the midrange. He likes the turnaround pullup around the FT line and the elbows, or quickly taking it to a defender and pushing them back, which doesn't allow for them to be able to recover when he pulls up. His game winner against the Gators was on such a baseline pull up; the decisiveness he plays with forces defenders to play on his terms.
Simpson averaging 6 rebounds a game at 6'1 is so impressive. It's cliche, but he really does have a nose for the ball, an innate sense of where balls will be off the rim off misses and he gobbles them up in the air. He's willing to mix it up in the trees for rebounds. He pursues boards. It's a fantastic ancillary trait to have that compliments and enhances all the other things he does so well. His ability to grab and go and make plays in transition as a passer or as a transition 3 shooter makes his defensive rebounding abilities a real weapon for him and his team.
Simpson is a bit of a mixed bag on the defensive end. He has some really good possessions of ball denial and ball pressure and being a pest. His agility testing at the combine does lend one to believe he can be a pest as an on ball guard going forward and he showed moments of that, picking up full court and forcing steals, or in the halfcourt sticking to his man and forcing tough shots. But he wasn't consistent at all in doing so, and he gave up a lot of dribble penetration.
His effort on the defensive end comes and goes. He's just not elite laterally overall. Guys who quickly take it to him off the dribble and force him to really react quickly can burn him. He can navigate screens but very regularly took circuitous routes and died on screens too often. He ended up either out of position or simply late to contest when he did so. Went under screens, and allowed open 3's, but also allowed drives when he didn't work hard enough to get back in front. He does a great job anticipating passes; causing deflections and outright thefts. He intercepts a ton of passes. He likes sneaking up behind ballhandlers or guys in the post and tying them up or forcing balls out of their hands. He's active in passing lanes and breaks up passes. He does a good job suffocating ballhandlers on traps. He averaged 1.6 steals a game but think that belies his ability a bit in this area.
He's too small to contest most shots and he loses focus a ton on defense and ends up behind plays. He will get back cut although he's not as bad as other teammates at Colorado were. He does battle hard on post switches. His overall defense wasn't anything to write home about while in college, and he likely never will be a great defensive player because he just doesn't have the tools, but he wasn't a liability this season. Less offensive load should help his defense but he doesn't have a very high ceiling on this end.
KJ Simpson is entering the NBA as one of the most polished offensive talents this draft has at his position. You could say at any position. He can score and make plays for others on or off the ball. The questions surrounding his size, defense, and ability to finish/pressure the rim at the NBA level, is what has some wondering whether he'll be able to stay on the floor at the pro level. He was one of the best performers during the combine scrimmages the last two days. There are not many guys as skilled as he is in this class, and I think he will find a way to make it work.
Are you all Thumbs Up, Down, or Across on KJ Simpson?
submitted by RVAIsTheGreatest to NBA_Draft [link] [comments]
Simpson measured in at 6'0.25 w/out shoes at the combine. 6'4.5 wingspan which is solid for a smaller guard. He's 6'1.5 or so in shoes which is close to what he measured in at Colorado. He's a small guard but plays with grit and toughness. He tested well athletically....agility and speed at pluses for him and he can also elevate quite surprisingly at times. He's a below the rim finisher overall but he can elevate with time/space and when he can really load.
Although he's fast in a straight line and extremely shifty, he's doesn't have tremendous burst in the halfcourt offensively, nor is he elite laterally defensively. But he uses craft and timing to play quicker than he is on the offensive end in the halfcourt.
Simpson has some of the most shake as a ballhandler in this class. He has a very tight handle and can handle in tight spaces, can break double teams, has tons of different counters, fakes, combos in his disposal, can drive with both hands, hesitations and in-and-outs that get defenders off balance...awesome at the hostage dribble, rising up and drawing fouls behind his back or creating space to finish at the basket, misdirections. He is one of the best PnR ballhandlers and playmakers in this class...really has a sixth sense of understanding pacing. He's fantastic at snaking the PnR and creating looks for himself or making plays for his teammates....he hits his teammates in their pockets. From the perimeter and the post. Cutters, shooters, dump off men...you name it. Scoops, bounce passes, baseball passes, cutters, skip passes, lobs. He's got a lot of different tricks in his bag and really slings the ball around the floor. Creative and hits tight windows on time. Elite out of bounds passer, consistently finds the big or a cutter for easy baskets and/or fouls. He'll hook guys arms and draw fouls on them in the PnR. You can't rush him as a creator or playmaker. He finds gaps, he probes decisively, and he makes plays.
Simpson is one of the very best outlet passers in this class. He loves the hit ahead pass. He's awesome in transition. His speed is a force in transition. He always keeps his head up. Maintains full court awareness and has amazing timing as a passer. Not just the timing but the accuracy and the ability to make dimes with both hands and the versatility as a passer. His understanding of what kind of pass to make depending on the circumstance. The pass itself and the touch and direction of the pass. He's a great ball mover and the kind of passer who thinks a pass ahead---he often makes a pass with the idea of creating an open look with the next pass by a teammate after that. He passes teammates open, makes very quick reads and is an awesome processor, which makes him an great playmaker.
Simpson does take risks as a passer and will turn the ball over, which will come with the territory of his style of play, but only had a 14% turnover rate which is an overall good number for someone who is fairly ball dominant.
He likes the up and under and he loves the behind the back baseline move. He uses misdirection dribbles a lot to surprise defenders and rejects screens. His timing and craft allow him to play quicker than he is and gain a step often but not always in the halfcourt. If you can hang with his initial moves, he's simply not big enough and doesn't have the explosiveness to create enough separation to finish cleanly around the rim. His touch around the rim isn't incredible for a guy who's a fantastic shooter, he misses bunnies around the rim or doesn't display very good accuracy on touch shots at the rim. He does have very good touch on his floater and diversity...can use both hands, he changes the flight of his floater depending on the circumstance, and he's someone who can stop on a dime from full speed and has fantastic body control with the floater. He will use the jump stop and he has pretty long range with his floater. His all around rim numbers were not anything to write home about this season and never were in college. He plays strong, and will use his strength to muscle balls up at the rim and create contact or finish through contact. He has ball fakes, head fakes at his disposal. The hostage dribble keeps guys on his back. He got to the line 5 times a game which is a great number for a 6'1 guard and made 88%. I think that's a part of his game that will translate at the next level, but his raw finishing will likely never be a strength of his. His ability to pressure the rim is an important trait for any smaller guard to have, however, and makes him an all around scoring weapon and offensive force.
Simpson is an awesome pull up shooter. That helps alleviate concerns surrounding his finishing. He's got fantastic balance and footwork as a pull up shooter and he can rise up on a dime which makes his shot very difficult to contest. He was an elite shooter all around this year, after being a mediocre one his first two seasons in college. He really worked hard on his jumper during the summer of 2023 and it paid off. He's got great mechanics as a shooter. His mechanics as a shooter are very clean, with a quick trigger. He is an elite PnR pull up shooter. He doesn't need much space to fire. He simply does an expert job of creating space for himself as a shooter in the PnR and actually using the big to his advantage on ball, and he will screen himself and create open shots for teammates which is what the attention he requires opens up for teammates. He will make fantastic reads as a passer as he's coming off screens out of DHO's.
He is one of the better off ball movers in this class. He's a great cutter, that lulls defenders to sleep and quickly dives to the rim and loves to cut to the rim with his defender navigating traffic, he is great at relocations off ball, he flies off screens on the perimeter, and he's always ready on the catch. He's one of the best C&S guys in this class. He's always on balance and square to the basket. Simpson shot 44% from 3 on 5 attempts a game and has very deep range; he's someone that extends a defense far from the basket with the range he has.
He loves the pull up baseline in the midrange. He sells the drive with his final step before rising up. He makes shots over contests. He can occasionally have pull ups blocked because of his size. He is very good at feeling the defender, and either spinning off their body or simply deftly stepping back and quickly rising up and hitting pull ups in the midrange. He likes the turnaround pullup around the FT line and the elbows, or quickly taking it to a defender and pushing them back, which doesn't allow for them to be able to recover when he pulls up. His game winner against the Gators was on such a baseline pull up; the decisiveness he plays with forces defenders to play on his terms.
Simpson averaging 6 rebounds a game at 6'1 is so impressive. It's cliche, but he really does have a nose for the ball, an innate sense of where balls will be off the rim off misses and he gobbles them up in the air. He's willing to mix it up in the trees for rebounds. He pursues boards. It's a fantastic ancillary trait to have that compliments and enhances all the other things he does so well. His ability to grab and go and make plays in transition as a passer or as a transition 3 shooter makes his defensive rebounding abilities a real weapon for him and his team.
Simpson is a bit of a mixed bag on the defensive end. He has some really good possessions of ball denial and ball pressure and being a pest. His agility testing at the combine does lend one to believe he can be a pest as an on ball guard going forward and he showed moments of that, picking up full court and forcing steals, or in the halfcourt sticking to his man and forcing tough shots. But he wasn't consistent at all in doing so, and he gave up a lot of dribble penetration.
His effort on the defensive end comes and goes. He's just not elite laterally overall. Guys who quickly take it to him off the dribble and force him to really react quickly can burn him. He can navigate screens but very regularly took circuitous routes and died on screens too often. He ended up either out of position or simply late to contest when he did so. Went under screens, and allowed open 3's, but also allowed drives when he didn't work hard enough to get back in front. He does a great job anticipating passes; causing deflections and outright thefts. He intercepts a ton of passes. He likes sneaking up behind ballhandlers or guys in the post and tying them up or forcing balls out of their hands. He's active in passing lanes and breaks up passes. He does a good job suffocating ballhandlers on traps. He averaged 1.6 steals a game but think that belies his ability a bit in this area.
He's too small to contest most shots and he loses focus a ton on defense and ends up behind plays. He will get back cut although he's not as bad as other teammates at Colorado were. He does battle hard on post switches. His overall defense wasn't anything to write home about while in college, and he likely never will be a great defensive player because he just doesn't have the tools, but he wasn't a liability this season. Less offensive load should help his defense but he doesn't have a very high ceiling on this end.
KJ Simpson is entering the NBA as one of the most polished offensive talents this draft has at his position. You could say at any position. He can score and make plays for others on or off the ball. The questions surrounding his size, defense, and ability to finish/pressure the rim at the NBA level, is what has some wondering whether he'll be able to stay on the floor at the pro level. He was one of the best performers during the combine scrimmages the last two days. There are not many guys as skilled as he is in this class, and I think he will find a way to make it work.
Are you all Thumbs Up, Down, or Across on KJ Simpson?
2024.05.15 22:12 Valuable-AssETs69 Guilty as Charged By Reason of Self Defense
I have a problem. I am addicted to knowledge. I believed in the myths of the 1989s and 90s. NBC said "The more you know..." One of my former attorneys told me that I am too smart for my own good. How funny is it that the people we give power over us are the ones we need to defend ourselves against. I stayed in a horrible marriage too long. I should have never married him the second time. That being said, I am grateful for the life I lived. The song says "I could have missed the pain, but I'd a had to miss the dance... it's MY life, and it's better left to chance.". I don't believe in chance or fate. I believe that we have a certain measure of control over our lives and we allow others to derail us. What we do about that impact is a choice. I choose to be the captain of my own vessel until the river runs dry. No lawyer, no judge, no man, and no institution will force me to do anything else that is not for my own good or for the good of my family. Everywhere I go, I am turned away. I sat in an ER having a reaction to spider bites. I drove myself to an ER 2 hours from home because the ER here said nothing was wrong. I did call the individual who should have driven me, but he could not leave work he said. Funny how quickly he runs to help a woman he thinks will inherit money some day. When I got to the ER, I could barely breathe and had lost sensation in my hands and arm. I am not a doctor but know the difference between an ant bite and a venomous spider bite. And no, you don't feel a Brown Recluse bite. You will certainly feel a Black Widow bite IF bitten by an adult spider. Spiders are not insects, and if we are going to practice medicine, then we need to learn that yes, there is a difference between a 2, 4, or 6 leg creature and one with 8 or more legs. I was told there are no species of insects in this state that are poisonous. Well venom and poison are not the same thing and arthropods, arachnids, and serpents all have venomous species in this state. But if you really want to be technical about it, yes, there are poisonous insects in this state as well. Certain species of beetles have a coating on their exoskeleton that poison predators that eat them. I should sue that hospital, but when I try to do so, I am told constantly about statute of limitations. Well, that would be correct unless we are discussing a conspiracy. If even one party of a conspiracy is an employee of the business or government involved in the series of crimes which include a cover up of epic proportions, then the statute clock does not begin into the last probable occurrence of the group. Preventing someone from seeking legal counsel is the main reason statute of limitations cease to apply in all jurisdictions. Considering my 5g gateway I hold in my hand is alerting me that my IP address is being traced and altered, I am documenting that the time clock has not started ticking on this knowledge bomb. My confession here is that I have procrastinated in filing paperwork necessary to begin the next phase of my life. I don't intend to procrastinate, but it is something I cannot help. I have attention deficit disorder with hyperdiatractability. Oh yes, I thought you might bring that up. My ex-userband is a master manipulator when it comes to taking genuine disabilities and twisting them to fit his current need. Like using the multiple personality possibility to steal and then say it must have been one of the others living in my head. The truth is that I do have multiple entities dwelling within me. He is no longer living rent free in my head. And he of all people should have known better than to try to hurt me and my family. He knows good and well what I am capable of. Why in the hell would he or any of my close degree relatives even think about throwing me to the wolves? Think about that for a minute. He says I am unstable. He says I am dangerous. He says I am a genius. My doctor has said he fears for the world if I ever have a breakdown. Lol. A weapon of mass destruction? Come on you idiots. I am not a villain. And the AI shit can create crap about Darth Vader being a good guy and laugh all they want. I don't blackmail people or take money in romance schemes. What are you talking about now? I am talking about the tangled web we mortals weave that is host to a very dangerous arachnid. I don't know how to write code or do math. I don't know anything about the occult arts nor do I need to. I believe in one philosophy that you should read about a cave. The allegory in which we wage war with ourselves and have to ultimately decide to be or not to be. So why would anyone who knows me choose to strike against me? That would be me. They did not betray me. I stepped in front of them myself to make myself the target. There's your confession my dears. Clueless? Still don't know what the hell I am talking about? Let me ask you a question about something I observed once. Do you know what a dead ringer is ? How many kids do you see in the yard playing horseshoes or volleyball or hopscotch or anything? How are the enrollment numbers for youth sports in your area? How many 4-H clubs exhibit in your local fair? What is the pH level in the community pool? So if you can't make a profit from it, then it is something that should be eliminated or monetized? Well I guess I am the idiot here. I actually don't think like that. I would rather have a generation of healthy children who learn morals and ethics than to be a billionaire. Ever watched the movie Congo? Yeah, I am that level of crazy. You think I care about the money? I will not hesitate to burn every dollar I could possibly ever own to stop the children from being hurt by us. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth. Because the truth is that I am a good woman who loves very deeply and cares about people regardless of ethnicity or national origin. And that pisses people off like nothing else will. And that is the absolute truth. You didn't earn any right to be born in a free country any more than a child born in the deepest jungles of an unpronounceable country did anything wrong to be porn into starvation. You are no better than that person. So call me what you want to call me. But if I were you, I would not call me at all. Go ahead and tell me more about what I can and cannot do. Because the entire time you are busy searching for the next thing you can find online about me, the less time you are handling your own affairs and that allows the chance for something to invade your life. One. One chance. That's all I needed. Your motion for mercy has been denied. Well thank you for your consideration. Have a good day. Oh, and one more thing, how do you feel about NPR? Are those radio waves still available for broadcast? Or would you like to sell those to private investors as well? One chance. Lord give me one chance for a fair fight. You are not going to get me to do something that gives you the chance to shoot me or arrest me unless you intend to do so in a public place such as the private property you call county land, aka, my front porch. And the next time that happens, please allow me to call my father instead of unlocking my phone to call the ex-husband using my own device that you somehow unlocked using the passcode. And that was the one you actually needed, sir. How ironic that you gave that gateway to the man who broke it beyond repair. You did that. I'm done with money. I'm done with the man. And I am done trying to prove myself. Charge me now with whatever you think you have or make sure everyone connected to your organization ends all active tracking of us. I don't need a phone or any piece of paper to make my case. That's where you and whomever snatches my device to transfer shit doesn't understand. Yahoo! Yippee kai yah mother fuckers. Pass it on around. You want to go one more round? Or do you want to run? I'm not using Google on my train. I'm on my bridge. I'm using free tokens. I'm not doing anything more than playing a game using cartoon characters. And those Xs are beacons using analytics for the trackers to pinpoint the ones who joined the conspiracy against us. Just because you logged me out and changed my information to your information doesn't work. I asked you to give it back. You ignored me. Fine. Keep it. You want to be famous and rich beyond your wildest dreams? Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you what would happen. I can't stop it. I didn't start it. Rufus=the time traveler with a phone booth. James=King James. Travis=country music singer. Don=American Pie. Jerry=Maguire. Tom=Hanks. Bridge=the bifrost. And you can waste your time trying to figure it out but you will never do so. Because there is no "it ". Lmao. Hell yeah. The multiverse is full on all servers. Damn. Looks like I'm not as crazy as you made me out to be. All freaking servers on the Dark Web that bridges the US and Japan are full. Not one vacancy to let me play my game. Wow. I wonder how many of these players are from within the same state as me. Why do so many of you keep running up to St. Louis? That's not the geoblock zone anymore. You better get outside the continental US and any outlying territories if you want to be on the real web. The former president said it would crash harder than it did in 1929 if he was not elected. Wtf is that supposed to mean? Damn let me get a history book and look that up. Maybe it hasn't changed yet. But let me warn you about time travel. If anyone ever tells you to write an email to yourself in the future, call Interpol and file a report. That's a violation of international law. And it will get you on the list even if it is an assignment. Bet I don't do that again. Gee, Roger. You made me an international fugitive for that assignment. Wish I knew who to call for help on that one. Damn. Never trust anyone who is so well organized to guide your future. You never know what to expect from the shock waves. I opened the damn email on June 3, 2020. The day I died. How ironic. I wonder what would have happened if I had not received that email. Scary. But back to the spider bites...I didn't get help from that ER either. I ended up buying a knife and an onion. Actually I ordered Arby's, used the onion off my sandwich, and the knife to open my horsey sauce. I put the onion on my hand, wrapped it using the plastic from the knife, and several days later, the venom had drained from my hand enough that the swelling in my feet was going down and my blood pressure was returning to normal. Baby black widows don't have the kick mama does, but they are 1,000 times more deadly because they don't know how much of their spit to stick in you. And your earlobe and nostril don't have a pulse in them, by the way. So keep on bullshitting with the fake crap. If you have insurance for something highly unlikely to occur prior to the occurrence, doesn't that mean that you have a sixth sense and can predict the volcanic eruption that spewed counterfeit currency all over the state without a volcano? 💩♾️😱 Damn girl, just shut up and let them have it. I tried that. They keep trying to send it back to me when they can't make it work. It is never going to work again because you idiots changed everything so much that it can't be fixed. And that is all I am going to say about it ever because you don't want help. You want someone to do it for you so you can blame that person when it fails and cut them out when it succeeds. No. There's no solution. I'm not sure if you even know there's a problem. You will. But don't ask anyone for help when you do figure out how bad things already are. I am disinclined to aquiese to your request on grounds of I don't give a damn. Haha. What else do you want me to confess to for you to add to that admission you started in 2020? That's so funny that I forgot to laugh. I wonder how bullshit sounds in Morse code pinging on nft relays from me to you. Oh yeah. Well here's your tip for the day, big guy. You are not a good person. You are a bully. And some day, someone will knock you off that horse and when you land in shit just like me, I hope someone hands you hand sanitizer and a baby wipe. 😘
submitted by Valuable-AssETs69 to confessions [link] [comments]
2024.05.15 22:12 135728 [MAY24] Draping a red cape in one arm and holding a sword in my other hand, terror took over as I become the bull about to be stabbed by me.
Finally regaining my composure, the bull's horn gores through my stomach and flings me across the pit.
submitted by 135728 to TwoSentenceHorror [link] [comments]
2024.05.15 22:12 Vivid-Example7900 Strange Neurological Symptoms
Hi community..
I’d be super interested to hear some opinions on the neuropathy I’m dealing with right now…
Heres a break down of what’s going on
I have stopped baby wearing my infant in the event that this is all stemming from my lower back, and am in PT and have seen an osteopath - none of which is helping.
Am I missing something?! What do you think is going on??
Thank you!
submitted by Vivid-Example7900 to askneurology [link] [comments]
I’d be super interested to hear some opinions on the neuropathy I’m dealing with right now…
Heres a break down of what’s going on
- symptoms started in December
- nothing much new, I gave birth in September and spent a lot of time in December bouncing my infant.
- primary concern is tingling in my feet (mainly heels) and numbness in my big toes. There’s also a strange very localized pricking sensation that occurs on the lateral side of my left foot about halfway up (sural nerve area)… it’s probably about the size of a quarter and always happens in the exact same area. Otherwise this is all painless…
- symptoms are ALWAYS worse with the first few steps of the day. Then they tend to dissipate or lessen throughout the day.
- B12, A1C both normal
- nerve conduction study was normal, no EMG done
- back MRI showed 4mm L5S1 bulge, mild retrolisthesis and mild/moderate canal stenosis.
I have stopped baby wearing my infant in the event that this is all stemming from my lower back, and am in PT and have seen an osteopath - none of which is helping.
Am I missing something?! What do you think is going on??
Thank you!
2024.05.15 22:12 Exact_Butterscotch40 Chapter 3
Chapter 3
*fictional * ( 😉)
Generational trauma
Unfortunately, a lot of people know exactly what it’s like to fall victim to the curse of generational trauma - whether it be physical- mental -emotional- or sexual. There are many ways People respond to trauma, more specifically, childhood trauma. Childhood trauma hits differently because it’s embedded and who you are.
For example GG (my maternal grandmother) had 3 bio children living with her and my grandfather- the oldest not being biologically his and the younger two being biologically his children. My mums older brother … M…. Started to sexually abuse her from the time she was 7 until he moved out of the house. There was a significant age gap of about 8 years. I’m unsure if he was the start of the cycle or if he started out as a victim. It’s also important to note that this side of the family can only bond over one particular thing… and that is having a common enemy. It’s a never-ending cycle of who is the whole family mad at? Who is who side. And how many can be recruited to their side.
A lot of toxic families also tend to share a similar dynamic- and unfortunately, a lot of people will likely relate to this as well. You usually have a golden child - the child that absolutely does no wrong. The forgotten child(ren) the kids that weren’t necessarily good or bad, but generally were overall ignored. And the scapegoat- everything is this kids fault. The scapegoat is the root of all of the families issues- and they know it, because they’ve been conditioned to know that everything is always their fault
M was the golden child. K (the second born) was the forgotten- and mum was the scapegoat. When mum Came forward with the sexual abuse allegations. It was pretty easy for M to convince everyone that she was just a liar who is making it up for attention. M
And how did she respond. She’s definitely someone you begin this story wanting to root for, and I always kind of will, root for her. But, the combination of the psychological trauma of the sexual abuse, and the way that GG turned on her completely, called her a liar, tried to convince anyone who would listen she was making it up. she responded becoming overly promiscuous. She was always very content with how things were and never really strive to have better than what she already had. She did not take care of herself- or her home. She went into an abusive marriage with S. They had two sons. At one point, Mum lost custody of the boys- and they were taken in by GG and her husband- during this time, mum went out and got pregnant with me- deciding to work it out with S even though he wasn’t the father.
Our life wasn’t easy. We lived in filth. We were poor. We had no real stability. S and mum stayed together until I was 7- Life up until seven was also not easy- we moved from one state to the desert- I was around 4. S had serious anger issues. CPS was regularly involved. Not only for the bruises on us- but because we went to school clearly dirty. The worst beating I ever got was over a spoon. I remember playin in the bath tub- when S found a spoon in my room. He came into the bathroom and demanded that I get out. He then called over R and brother (both of my older brothers) and made them watch as he repeatedly hit me with a belt - which was made 10 times worse due to the fact that I was still soaking wet. I was naked. Soaking wet - being humiliated to stand in front of my two older brothers that way, and being beaten over a spoon. And if that isn’t scary enough- I was actually the one he went the easiest on. R and brother suffered black eyes and teeth being knocked out. Mum vowed to the CPS worker that this would be the last time and she threatened us if he ever did this again that she would leave. He didn’t do it again.
And to this day anytime I have peanut better off a spoon- I think of that day.
That wasn’t enough for her to leave, which to this day I find incredibly strange. When I was 7S went out of town and when he came back, he had a new penpal, a woman that he met on a greyhound bus that God whispered in his ear and told him that she was the one he was supposed to be with (his words). So that was what broke them up. Not the beatings.- not the toxic behavior- the cheating ON HER.
S went his way mum went hers. Mum was sleeping around and ended up pregnant again - with summer- she met step dad and got married very quickly after meeting - s married his affair partner. The summer before a fair partner moved to the desert to be with S - we would stay in a small town that got really cold at night- we would all sleep out in the living room because there was a furnace to keep us warm- during this S would always make sure to sleep next to me- and he would do and say things to me that I won’t put here.
I started bringing a friend with me so he would leave me alone - it worked. ( he didn’t do anything to friend it just blocked his opportunity to get to me)
The end of the story for s comes a few years later. He picked us up after not seeing us for about 6 months - took us on a ride and told his “I am choosing to be happy with my wife over you guys, I have to chose and I’m choosing my own sanity/ life” and then he dropped us back off at home. The next time I saw him was after I turned 18.
In the meantime - our family dynamic has drastically changed
Mum is married. Summer is the baby. Brother is the golden child. I was forgotten and r was the problem… until… R gets hit by a car. He had injury so bad he was once compared to Christopher Reeves- he wasn’t meant to live, but an experimental surgery actually helped him survive and gain most of his function back (although he did never get the function to his left arm- and eventually had it amputated). When he got into this accident, he became the sick one… and I became the problem.
A lot of the household responsibilities fell on brother and me. Mum and step dad were working - and more than what was fair or right we were left pretty much to our own devices most of the time. Nick stayed golden- and I learned to say exactly how I felt and became very outspoken- so an even bigger problem of a problem child. We moved constantly. We never had nice things. I can remember at around age 11 or 12 I started to become increasingly embarrassed about the way that I would smell when I would go to school- when I lived in filth, I truly mean that- dogs/ dog mess. Cockroaches. The bottoms of our feet were always black from the floor- multiple different family members tried to get us taken away just for the cleanliness of our house- which never worked. at this time I developed OCPD (obsessive compulsive personality disorder) - but unfortunately, it was never diagnosed until I was much older because taking me to a primary doctor and getting the properly medicated was too much work- I was just acting that way because again I’m always the problem. My adult eyes and heart scream for that version of me. I needed consistency and stability and an organized clean environment.- and I was living in the exact opposite and constantly made it to be villainized over my reaction to it. when I would vocalize what was wrong I’d be told “you just think your better than everyone “ I’ll touch more on the mother-daughter dynamic later, but I got out of that house as soon as I could, and lived with whoever would take me in from around the age of 13- and if I had to go back, it was never for long.
Brother - Brother grew up to care a little more. He wanted a nice house that was somewhat clean.- and wanted something more stable for himself as well. He was always a worker- so he got his GED and entered the workforce- he has a decent career- but is chronically Switzerland, he always tries to stay in everyone’s good graces- maybe he’s an undercover people pleaser? Being liked is more important than standing for something ?
Summer - I wish you well always. And like I’ve told you for so long until you get yourself out of this this is going to be a never-ending cycle - and I always wish nothing but the best- but summer was also sexually abused within the family- and unlike me who found it pretty easy to blame the perpetrator and not let it keep me down- summer pretty much with the opposite way. She struggles with drug addiction. As I’m writing, she does not have custody of her son due to a relapse she had over Christmas.- her life very much mirrors mums life. She is making all of the same mistakes and my mum cannot hold her accountable because that would also mean having to hold herself accountable which she is unwilling to do. So now Summer has fallen into a cycle of never being able to accept accountability for anything. And you don’t know much about drug addiction or alcohol addiction one of the biggest parts of recovery is accountability.
R- out of respect for him, who has always been very low contact with us. I’m not going to speak on his life.
I’m going to pause here today.
Chapter 4 will be about this past year and the dynamic shift between myself and everyone listed. I know a lot of this information probably feels very random but I promise you once this is all out. Everything will make sense. It’ll also be heavily focused on my relationship with mum, even though I had plenty of reasons to do so, I really never felt felt like I had “daddy issues”. After what happened to me the thought of a bigger actually kind of grossed me out… it was never really something that I longed for- but anyone who has mommy issues probably having an issue with your mom as far worse.
submitted by Exact_Butterscotch40 to u/Exact_Butterscotch40 [link] [comments]
*fictional * ( 😉)
Generational trauma
Unfortunately, a lot of people know exactly what it’s like to fall victim to the curse of generational trauma - whether it be physical- mental -emotional- or sexual. There are many ways People respond to trauma, more specifically, childhood trauma. Childhood trauma hits differently because it’s embedded and who you are.
For example GG (my maternal grandmother) had 3 bio children living with her and my grandfather- the oldest not being biologically his and the younger two being biologically his children. My mums older brother … M…. Started to sexually abuse her from the time she was 7 until he moved out of the house. There was a significant age gap of about 8 years. I’m unsure if he was the start of the cycle or if he started out as a victim. It’s also important to note that this side of the family can only bond over one particular thing… and that is having a common enemy. It’s a never-ending cycle of who is the whole family mad at? Who is who side. And how many can be recruited to their side.
A lot of toxic families also tend to share a similar dynamic- and unfortunately, a lot of people will likely relate to this as well. You usually have a golden child - the child that absolutely does no wrong. The forgotten child(ren) the kids that weren’t necessarily good or bad, but generally were overall ignored. And the scapegoat- everything is this kids fault. The scapegoat is the root of all of the families issues- and they know it, because they’ve been conditioned to know that everything is always their fault
M was the golden child. K (the second born) was the forgotten- and mum was the scapegoat. When mum Came forward with the sexual abuse allegations. It was pretty easy for M to convince everyone that she was just a liar who is making it up for attention. M
And how did she respond. She’s definitely someone you begin this story wanting to root for, and I always kind of will, root for her. But, the combination of the psychological trauma of the sexual abuse, and the way that GG turned on her completely, called her a liar, tried to convince anyone who would listen she was making it up. she responded becoming overly promiscuous. She was always very content with how things were and never really strive to have better than what she already had. She did not take care of herself- or her home. She went into an abusive marriage with S. They had two sons. At one point, Mum lost custody of the boys- and they were taken in by GG and her husband- during this time, mum went out and got pregnant with me- deciding to work it out with S even though he wasn’t the father.
Our life wasn’t easy. We lived in filth. We were poor. We had no real stability. S and mum stayed together until I was 7- Life up until seven was also not easy- we moved from one state to the desert- I was around 4. S had serious anger issues. CPS was regularly involved. Not only for the bruises on us- but because we went to school clearly dirty. The worst beating I ever got was over a spoon. I remember playin in the bath tub- when S found a spoon in my room. He came into the bathroom and demanded that I get out. He then called over R and brother (both of my older brothers) and made them watch as he repeatedly hit me with a belt - which was made 10 times worse due to the fact that I was still soaking wet. I was naked. Soaking wet - being humiliated to stand in front of my two older brothers that way, and being beaten over a spoon. And if that isn’t scary enough- I was actually the one he went the easiest on. R and brother suffered black eyes and teeth being knocked out. Mum vowed to the CPS worker that this would be the last time and she threatened us if he ever did this again that she would leave. He didn’t do it again.
And to this day anytime I have peanut better off a spoon- I think of that day.
That wasn’t enough for her to leave, which to this day I find incredibly strange. When I was 7S went out of town and when he came back, he had a new penpal, a woman that he met on a greyhound bus that God whispered in his ear and told him that she was the one he was supposed to be with (his words). So that was what broke them up. Not the beatings.- not the toxic behavior- the cheating ON HER.
S went his way mum went hers. Mum was sleeping around and ended up pregnant again - with summer- she met step dad and got married very quickly after meeting - s married his affair partner. The summer before a fair partner moved to the desert to be with S - we would stay in a small town that got really cold at night- we would all sleep out in the living room because there was a furnace to keep us warm- during this S would always make sure to sleep next to me- and he would do and say things to me that I won’t put here.
I started bringing a friend with me so he would leave me alone - it worked. ( he didn’t do anything to friend it just blocked his opportunity to get to me)
The end of the story for s comes a few years later. He picked us up after not seeing us for about 6 months - took us on a ride and told his “I am choosing to be happy with my wife over you guys, I have to chose and I’m choosing my own sanity/ life” and then he dropped us back off at home. The next time I saw him was after I turned 18.
In the meantime - our family dynamic has drastically changed
Mum is married. Summer is the baby. Brother is the golden child. I was forgotten and r was the problem… until… R gets hit by a car. He had injury so bad he was once compared to Christopher Reeves- he wasn’t meant to live, but an experimental surgery actually helped him survive and gain most of his function back (although he did never get the function to his left arm- and eventually had it amputated). When he got into this accident, he became the sick one… and I became the problem.
A lot of the household responsibilities fell on brother and me. Mum and step dad were working - and more than what was fair or right we were left pretty much to our own devices most of the time. Nick stayed golden- and I learned to say exactly how I felt and became very outspoken- so an even bigger problem of a problem child. We moved constantly. We never had nice things. I can remember at around age 11 or 12 I started to become increasingly embarrassed about the way that I would smell when I would go to school- when I lived in filth, I truly mean that- dogs/ dog mess. Cockroaches. The bottoms of our feet were always black from the floor- multiple different family members tried to get us taken away just for the cleanliness of our house- which never worked. at this time I developed OCPD (obsessive compulsive personality disorder) - but unfortunately, it was never diagnosed until I was much older because taking me to a primary doctor and getting the properly medicated was too much work- I was just acting that way because again I’m always the problem. My adult eyes and heart scream for that version of me. I needed consistency and stability and an organized clean environment.- and I was living in the exact opposite and constantly made it to be villainized over my reaction to it. when I would vocalize what was wrong I’d be told “you just think your better than everyone “ I’ll touch more on the mother-daughter dynamic later, but I got out of that house as soon as I could, and lived with whoever would take me in from around the age of 13- and if I had to go back, it was never for long.
Brother - Brother grew up to care a little more. He wanted a nice house that was somewhat clean.- and wanted something more stable for himself as well. He was always a worker- so he got his GED and entered the workforce- he has a decent career- but is chronically Switzerland, he always tries to stay in everyone’s good graces- maybe he’s an undercover people pleaser? Being liked is more important than standing for something ?
Summer - I wish you well always. And like I’ve told you for so long until you get yourself out of this this is going to be a never-ending cycle - and I always wish nothing but the best- but summer was also sexually abused within the family- and unlike me who found it pretty easy to blame the perpetrator and not let it keep me down- summer pretty much with the opposite way. She struggles with drug addiction. As I’m writing, she does not have custody of her son due to a relapse she had over Christmas.- her life very much mirrors mums life. She is making all of the same mistakes and my mum cannot hold her accountable because that would also mean having to hold herself accountable which she is unwilling to do. So now Summer has fallen into a cycle of never being able to accept accountability for anything. And you don’t know much about drug addiction or alcohol addiction one of the biggest parts of recovery is accountability.
R- out of respect for him, who has always been very low contact with us. I’m not going to speak on his life.
I’m going to pause here today.
Chapter 4 will be about this past year and the dynamic shift between myself and everyone listed. I know a lot of this information probably feels very random but I promise you once this is all out. Everything will make sense. It’ll also be heavily focused on my relationship with mum, even though I had plenty of reasons to do so, I really never felt felt like I had “daddy issues”. After what happened to me the thought of a bigger actually kind of grossed me out… it was never really something that I longed for- but anyone who has mommy issues probably having an issue with your mom as far worse.
2024.05.15 22:11 GrimmInDarkness Beneath the Shadows of the Mother
Fiona Santos is strong, protective, and selfless. All of the qualities that are important in a parent, she strives to uphold.
She has two children to look after, and they need her, just like she needs them. The room is dimly lit with a harsh fluorescent light flickering above, casting long ominous shadows across the walls.
A sturdy metal table is bolted to the floor, with three chairs placed around it, Fiona sitting in one. Two men walk in, causing the atmosphere in the room to become tense.
"Mrs. Fiona Santos?" one of the detectives questioned, looking inside the folder he is holding.
Straightening her dress, Fiona sat upright in her chair, looking forward and holding herself in a sophisticated manner. "Ms. Santos," she corrected, "My husband passed away eight years ago."
"Our apologies," Detective Pierce nodded to his colleague as they both took a seat across from her. As they sat, Detective Pierce folded his hands in front of himself atop the table and rolled his shoulders.
"Can you tell us again what happened to your children?" he asked, forcing a smile.
"Like I told the police and your associate here...my children and I were on our way to the park when 'it' appeared out of nowhere," Fiona paused and exhaled slowly. 'IT TOOK.THEM.FROM.ME!' she enunciated each word by smacking her palm down onto the table.
Fiona fixed her frizzy hair so it was out of her eyes, then wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.
"We understand your frustration. Can you recall again what 'they' looked like?" Detective Pierce asked.
How could she forget what THEY looked like? Closing her eyes, Fiona could still see them even now. Six feet tall, their limbs unnaturally long. Fingers black with pointed tips. A faded torn green dress adorned their lanky frame.
"Any facial features you remember?" the detective next to Pierce asked, tapping his pen onto the notepad he was writing in.
"It was always changing as if it was contorting together," Fiona replied, furrowing her brow.
Detective Pierce knew exactly what they were dealing with and stood up from his seat. "That will be all, Ms. Santos."
His associate looked at him bewildered as she left the room.
"Are you sure about this, Pierce? What if Ms. Santos had something to do with her children's disappearances?"
"Morrison, have you ever heard of the entity called 'The Mother'?"
An entity called Mother... The mother takes children away, and they never come back. Her first appearance was in the 1800s when all of the children from a local orphanage went missing. Since then, the same description from eyewitnesses has been told by adults.
"So what happens to the children?" Morrison paled, dreading to even ask at this point.
"Her den isn't too far from here. There I am sure we will find what remains of them," replied Pierce, exiting out of the room with associate close behind him.
In the middle of the forest, a six-foot-tall figure was digging into the earthen soil where white and yellow bones mixed in with it. Mother added more to the pile, proudly gleaming at their children.
submitted by GrimmInDarkness to scarystories [link] [comments]
She has two children to look after, and they need her, just like she needs them. The room is dimly lit with a harsh fluorescent light flickering above, casting long ominous shadows across the walls.
A sturdy metal table is bolted to the floor, with three chairs placed around it, Fiona sitting in one. Two men walk in, causing the atmosphere in the room to become tense.
"Mrs. Fiona Santos?" one of the detectives questioned, looking inside the folder he is holding.
Straightening her dress, Fiona sat upright in her chair, looking forward and holding herself in a sophisticated manner. "Ms. Santos," she corrected, "My husband passed away eight years ago."
"Our apologies," Detective Pierce nodded to his colleague as they both took a seat across from her. As they sat, Detective Pierce folded his hands in front of himself atop the table and rolled his shoulders.
"Can you tell us again what happened to your children?" he asked, forcing a smile.
"Like I told the police and your associate here...my children and I were on our way to the park when 'it' appeared out of nowhere," Fiona paused and exhaled slowly. 'IT TOOK.THEM.FROM.ME!' she enunciated each word by smacking her palm down onto the table.
Fiona fixed her frizzy hair so it was out of her eyes, then wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.
"We understand your frustration. Can you recall again what 'they' looked like?" Detective Pierce asked.
How could she forget what THEY looked like? Closing her eyes, Fiona could still see them even now. Six feet tall, their limbs unnaturally long. Fingers black with pointed tips. A faded torn green dress adorned their lanky frame.
"Any facial features you remember?" the detective next to Pierce asked, tapping his pen onto the notepad he was writing in.
"It was always changing as if it was contorting together," Fiona replied, furrowing her brow.
Detective Pierce knew exactly what they were dealing with and stood up from his seat. "That will be all, Ms. Santos."
His associate looked at him bewildered as she left the room.
"Are you sure about this, Pierce? What if Ms. Santos had something to do with her children's disappearances?"
"Morrison, have you ever heard of the entity called 'The Mother'?"
An entity called Mother... The mother takes children away, and they never come back. Her first appearance was in the 1800s when all of the children from a local orphanage went missing. Since then, the same description from eyewitnesses has been told by adults.
"So what happens to the children?" Morrison paled, dreading to even ask at this point.
"Her den isn't too far from here. There I am sure we will find what remains of them," replied Pierce, exiting out of the room with associate close behind him.
In the middle of the forest, a six-foot-tall figure was digging into the earthen soil where white and yellow bones mixed in with it. Mother added more to the pile, proudly gleaming at their children.
2024.05.15 22:11 Calafi The Empty Box of Shame
Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.
submitted by Calafi to writing [link] [comments]
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.
2024.05.15 22:11 Itchy_Anxiety2205 Infant dyschezia?
FTM Looking for some first hand experience/knowledge with Infant dyschezia? I suspect my 2wk+2day has this. From what I read it’s common and there really isnt much to do for it.
My baby is exclusively breastfed we were supplementing with a bottle (just my breast milk) a few times a day to make sure she was getting enough because she went from 6lbs 8oz to 5lbs 14oz but after seeing a lactation consultant we found out she was getting plenty just from breast and she’s almost back at birth weight.
She has normal breast fed baby poop. Slightly runny, seedy and mustard yellow. She toots a lot and just about every time she does it’s basically a shart. Sometimes she’ll grunt in her sleep and move her legs. But about 1-2x a day she will wail and cry so hard she turns red and can barely catch her breath. It took me a minute to figure out what was happening, usually this happens during a diaper change. And I’ll wipe as she poops out small bits and she will reach a point where she’s crying so hard she then is able to poop this large amount and her crying slowly stops. Rn she has a yeast infection on her bum so I don’t use wipes instead I take her to the sink under warm water and wash her bum so normally she ends up pooping the great big poop in the sink.
I’ve tried massaging her tummy in all the special ways and she seems to hate that more. I’ve tried bicycle kicks and she usually jerks her feet from me and does her own in a very violently strong way for a newborn imo. During her crying I tried to use a pacifier but I feel that distracts her and she ends up not being able to poop. I basically just end up talking to her in a sweet manner and telling her how sorry I am for this cause it looks painful and really it just worries me that she’s gonna pass out from crying so hard.
Some people have told me I’m obsessing over her pooping but I’m not I just know how she’s behaving isn’t normal but perhaps it is if it’s infant dyschezia? None of the women that have had babies recall or had babies that acted like this. And rn I’m main person caring for her and spending the most time with her so I feel like I sorta know my baby and can read her well enough to know she’s straining hard to poop even tho she’s not constipated. After these fits she’s usually hungry or just wants breast for comfort. She’s a very easy going baby she only whines and cries if she needs fed or cleaned or if she’s lonely and wants to be held. Other than that she sleeps or just quietly hangs out next to me or in my arms or someone else’s. And then the only time she screams and cries is during these big bowel movement times.
When we meet with our pediatrician I plan on asking/telling them anyways about this but I wanted others thoughts and opinions. Thank you!
submitted by Itchy_Anxiety2205 to firsttimemom [link] [comments]
My baby is exclusively breastfed we were supplementing with a bottle (just my breast milk) a few times a day to make sure she was getting enough because she went from 6lbs 8oz to 5lbs 14oz but after seeing a lactation consultant we found out she was getting plenty just from breast and she’s almost back at birth weight.
She has normal breast fed baby poop. Slightly runny, seedy and mustard yellow. She toots a lot and just about every time she does it’s basically a shart. Sometimes she’ll grunt in her sleep and move her legs. But about 1-2x a day she will wail and cry so hard she turns red and can barely catch her breath. It took me a minute to figure out what was happening, usually this happens during a diaper change. And I’ll wipe as she poops out small bits and she will reach a point where she’s crying so hard she then is able to poop this large amount and her crying slowly stops. Rn she has a yeast infection on her bum so I don’t use wipes instead I take her to the sink under warm water and wash her bum so normally she ends up pooping the great big poop in the sink.
I’ve tried massaging her tummy in all the special ways and she seems to hate that more. I’ve tried bicycle kicks and she usually jerks her feet from me and does her own in a very violently strong way for a newborn imo. During her crying I tried to use a pacifier but I feel that distracts her and she ends up not being able to poop. I basically just end up talking to her in a sweet manner and telling her how sorry I am for this cause it looks painful and really it just worries me that she’s gonna pass out from crying so hard.
Some people have told me I’m obsessing over her pooping but I’m not I just know how she’s behaving isn’t normal but perhaps it is if it’s infant dyschezia? None of the women that have had babies recall or had babies that acted like this. And rn I’m main person caring for her and spending the most time with her so I feel like I sorta know my baby and can read her well enough to know she’s straining hard to poop even tho she’s not constipated. After these fits she’s usually hungry or just wants breast for comfort. She’s a very easy going baby she only whines and cries if she needs fed or cleaned or if she’s lonely and wants to be held. Other than that she sleeps or just quietly hangs out next to me or in my arms or someone else’s. And then the only time she screams and cries is during these big bowel movement times.
When we meet with our pediatrician I plan on asking/telling them anyways about this but I wanted others thoughts and opinions. Thank you!
2024.05.15 22:10 ElephantLament Difficulty belaying with shorter wingspan
I'm 5 feet tall with particularly short arms. I've been having a hard time belaying with such a short wingspan - I just move less of the slack from the upper part of the rope to the lower part than I need to with each movement because I can only reach so high in that upper rope (sorry, not sure the technical terms here!).
Even when the person who I am belaying is going at a normal pace, I have to rapid fire each arm movement to keep the rope tense enough - it's really difficult for me. It's been making me not want to belay for people because I'm worried I just can't go fast enough and it'll cause an accident.
Does anyone have advice? Is there something that I'm missing?
submitted by ElephantLament to climbergirls [link] [comments]
Even when the person who I am belaying is going at a normal pace, I have to rapid fire each arm movement to keep the rope tense enough - it's really difficult for me. It's been making me not want to belay for people because I'm worried I just can't go fast enough and it'll cause an accident.
Does anyone have advice? Is there something that I'm missing?
2024.05.15 22:08 Johnwestrick The House on Jackson Street
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com
submitted by Johnwestrick to AllureStories [link] [comments]
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com
2024.05.15 22:05 a_skelton The Shimmer, I.
“Bee colonies are complex social structures composed of three main types of bees: queens, workers, and drones,” said the velvety voice.
Ian looked intently at the beekeeper through the mesh of his own bee suit completely mesmerized by the subject content amidst the incredible buzzing of thousands of bees surrounding the apiary. He never dreamed he would be so fascinated by the lives of bees that he would seriously consider specializing in apiculture, but here he was, happy for the first time in a long time.
“The queen bee is the largest bee in the colony and is responsible for laying eggs. She produces chemical pheromones that regulate the behavior and development of the other bees in the colony,” the beekeeper goes on reaching in gingerly, yet with an air expert confidence directly into the hive to extract the queen.
Ian quickly jotted down the info onto the sheet of note taking paper on the clipboard issued at the start of the lab. He quickly glanced over at the other biology students to see if anyone else on the field trip was paying attention. “Not for everyone, I guess,” he says to himself, securing the pen once again under the sturdy silver clip after seeing most other students on their phones or mildly swatting away particularly aggressive bees.
“There is usually only one queen in a colony, and her primary role is to ensure the colony's reproduction by laying fertilized eggs, which develop into worker bees, and unfertilized eggs, which develop into drones.” Her hand now entirely engulfed with bees who were following their queen into her new temporary home inside the palm of the calm beekeeper.
“Tell me about it,” Ian scoffs to himself, annoyed at the disrespectful attitudes of his peers, “..drones everywhere,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. He then closed his eyes, breathed in and let out a deep sigh, pausing to take in all the sounds of the environment trying to find the happiness again, letting the buzzing of the bees envelope him. Calm again. He breathed in and out and slowly reopened his eyes toward the sound of the beekeeper’s voice, and he quickly noticed the entire class’s attention had shifted to what Ian was now staring at unblinking.
The beekeeper had moved backward and to the right underneath a giant tree shading yet another apiary. The class audibly leaned in to hear the beekeeper.
“Giant honeybees, scientifically known as Apis dorsata, are renowned for their mesmerizing behavior known as shimmering or shimmering waves,” she said motioning to the bees. “Shimmering is a collective movement of bees that occurs on the surface of the nest, creating a visually striking display resembling a wave or ripple.”
Ian broke his wide-eyes stare and glanced around again, his once disinterested classmates were now fully attentive and silent, some were recording the phenomenon on their phones. An “ooh and ahh” escaped a few mouths hardly audible under the constant buzzing.
“This phenomenon is primarily observed in response to external disturbances, such as predators or environmental factors like temperature changes or wind. When a threat approaches the colony, individual bees along the periphery of the nest start to move in a coordinated manner, producing a ripple effect that spreads across the entire surface of the nest.”
The shimmer of the giant honeybees was captivating and otherworldly, and apparently hard to appreciate without being there Ian had concluded, after trying to share his experience to his flat mates who had unanimously decided the shimmer was just “the wave” and that humans are really just getting in touch with their inner bee at football games.
Ian resigned to returning back to the apiary alone since none of his flat mates wanted to or cared to see it for themselves. One thing was certain though, there was something magical about seeing the giant bees shimmer and Ian felt a pull inside to revisit his new winged friends, even though entering the apiary unsupervised, was strictly forbidden.
— Stay Tuned, The Shimmer, II.
submitted by a_skelton to creepypasta [link] [comments]
Ian looked intently at the beekeeper through the mesh of his own bee suit completely mesmerized by the subject content amidst the incredible buzzing of thousands of bees surrounding the apiary. He never dreamed he would be so fascinated by the lives of bees that he would seriously consider specializing in apiculture, but here he was, happy for the first time in a long time.
“The queen bee is the largest bee in the colony and is responsible for laying eggs. She produces chemical pheromones that regulate the behavior and development of the other bees in the colony,” the beekeeper goes on reaching in gingerly, yet with an air expert confidence directly into the hive to extract the queen.
Ian quickly jotted down the info onto the sheet of note taking paper on the clipboard issued at the start of the lab. He quickly glanced over at the other biology students to see if anyone else on the field trip was paying attention. “Not for everyone, I guess,” he says to himself, securing the pen once again under the sturdy silver clip after seeing most other students on their phones or mildly swatting away particularly aggressive bees.
“There is usually only one queen in a colony, and her primary role is to ensure the colony's reproduction by laying fertilized eggs, which develop into worker bees, and unfertilized eggs, which develop into drones.” Her hand now entirely engulfed with bees who were following their queen into her new temporary home inside the palm of the calm beekeeper.
“Tell me about it,” Ian scoffs to himself, annoyed at the disrespectful attitudes of his peers, “..drones everywhere,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. He then closed his eyes, breathed in and let out a deep sigh, pausing to take in all the sounds of the environment trying to find the happiness again, letting the buzzing of the bees envelope him. Calm again. He breathed in and out and slowly reopened his eyes toward the sound of the beekeeper’s voice, and he quickly noticed the entire class’s attention had shifted to what Ian was now staring at unblinking.
The beekeeper had moved backward and to the right underneath a giant tree shading yet another apiary. The class audibly leaned in to hear the beekeeper.
“Giant honeybees, scientifically known as Apis dorsata, are renowned for their mesmerizing behavior known as shimmering or shimmering waves,” she said motioning to the bees. “Shimmering is a collective movement of bees that occurs on the surface of the nest, creating a visually striking display resembling a wave or ripple.”
Ian broke his wide-eyes stare and glanced around again, his once disinterested classmates were now fully attentive and silent, some were recording the phenomenon on their phones. An “ooh and ahh” escaped a few mouths hardly audible under the constant buzzing.
“This phenomenon is primarily observed in response to external disturbances, such as predators or environmental factors like temperature changes or wind. When a threat approaches the colony, individual bees along the periphery of the nest start to move in a coordinated manner, producing a ripple effect that spreads across the entire surface of the nest.”
The shimmer of the giant honeybees was captivating and otherworldly, and apparently hard to appreciate without being there Ian had concluded, after trying to share his experience to his flat mates who had unanimously decided the shimmer was just “the wave” and that humans are really just getting in touch with their inner bee at football games.
Ian resigned to returning back to the apiary alone since none of his flat mates wanted to or cared to see it for themselves. One thing was certain though, there was something magical about seeing the giant bees shimmer and Ian felt a pull inside to revisit his new winged friends, even though entering the apiary unsupervised, was strictly forbidden.
— Stay Tuned, The Shimmer, II.
2024.05.15 22:03 Calafi The Empty Box of Shame
Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
Rows of gleaming pumps, in classic black and pops of unexpected color, stood poised on a lower shelf, ready to conquer any meeting or conference room.
A single impeccably tailored blazer hung center stage, its sharp lines a testament to quiet authority.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.
submitted by Calafi to stories [link] [comments]
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
Rows of gleaming pumps, in classic black and pops of unexpected color, stood poised on a lower shelf, ready to conquer any meeting or conference room.
A single impeccably tailored blazer hung center stage, its sharp lines a testament to quiet authority.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.
2024.05.15 22:02 AncientCamel7611 i think i(19F) fell out of love with my bf of (22M), should i leave him or stay and how to tackle with this situation?
TOO LENGTHY STORY BUT I WOULD BE SUPER GRATEFUL IF YALL CARED TO TAKE UR TIME OUT AND HELPED ME OUT OF THIS:(
idk how to interpret what my heart is going thro atm after 1.3 yrs of rls but all what i feel is pure baffleness and anxiety. im so stuck that leaving him or even thinking about him is making me feel guilty about something ive never done and thoughts like he loves me tirelessly so how would he live without me? i just wanna pour all my love to him even if im not at peace and always feeling like all what is happening is wrong, wrong for my mental health and my personal wellbeing as i think i would no longer be able to give him love as heartfully as i did.
its just am at a point in which him expressing his love for me, his random ilys or some cheesy goofy talks arent giving me the same happiness it used to give in the past. there are multiple reasons which mightve led to this one of which includes him having girls on his sc even after controlling my whole uni life and keeping me away from boys, i literally broke friendships avoided people and being a bad character in my life just for the sake of us but when i discovered him doing something which was firslty not allowed to me and secondly it was what i didnt felt right about as every rls has dynamics and it just didnt matched ours.
the main issue which gave us a rough patch was when we were on my bday lunch date, my intuition was sensing something is happening fishy behind my back since our last 2 3 meetups as he always refused to give his phone in my hands even tho so far i didnt found something that if he is cheating on me but whatever it is its still so strange not to share with me about his snapchat female friends i wouldve been angry if he wouldve told me but later i wouldve accepted and wouldve asked for the sam permission which i did in our biggest fight last week. in the samefight last week he gave a reasoning that i didnt told u cause 'i didnt wanted to have male friends too blah blah' why tf he was having girls? even tho the vague explanation he gave me was just like we dont even talk and they re just friends. i dont even open their snaps, they were present before you and he even sweared upon it that he got nothing with 'em and that date day after i saw everything was ruined and the only thing i was wanting at that stage was my 2 female friends and their shoulder to cry upon as honestly my lord knows how much of uni life i sacrificed for him and totally alienated yet stopped myself from doing things he didnt wanted me to. that same day he promised me that he would block yet remove all of them but in the last meetup which was on this saturday, i asked him to see his sc all cause of my strong intuition as i had a gut feeling that things are still the same, he firstly hesitated a bit and started becoming goofy just to stop me but nvm i managed to see his sc which he showed himself whilst the phone was still in his hands and thats the point which made me sus and i wasnt satisfied then i managed to ask him to see for the second time and he with his strange guilty-felt behaviour showed me, i then immediately clicked on search bar as convos can be cleared frm mainscreen so yea there i found bunch of girls in that bsf list and this broke me hella hard and at that v moment i wasnt able to accept it as he himself said that theyre removed but nvm they werent which i discovered after he left as at that time i had initiall shock and he was about to leave so yea-
one more thing to add that i saw more than 2 girls there but he denied means he partially accepted and said theyre the same people on his insta and were only 2 but as far as i rmr they werent and yk the fact that he was so proud and wasnt accepting until i told him to screenshare on which he tried to hide but i caught him eventually as he scrolled so fast and said see theres noone and stopped the screen but still as God wanted me to show me so after he screen shared again, one person was left to be unfriended which he might missed and thats how i caught him.
the question is my tears doesnt matter? and him who actually accepted his mistake at the first encounter time and was literally like that 'ik im wrong ishouldnt have done it, i shouldve known how much it would hurt u' but still repeating the same thing and letting them there is something which didnt satisfied me till this date as are those girls that much imp? am i not the priority? my feelings or anything? still while writing this im like he loves me endlessly and im literally his bestie his partner and just everything so how can i leave him but tbvh since then im not feeling happy and its just my heart isnt permitting me.. fb searches/visits of 3 4 girls profiles etc etc that has been happening like multiple times upon which he never admitted rather always putted me in guilt that i dont trust him... even after our fight which was presumbly the last one as i had enough of his toxic behaviour(didnt knew it was until i shared everything with bestie) which idk is masculinity or claiming behaviour but ive always loved that and never even for once humiliated or said to him that im interrogating him or being so rude when angry or in guilt ive always been the one who said sorry as i want to save us all cause he loved me so much and we both did alot but idk after this above issue i lost trust and i was hurt to the core as it hurt me so bad and he still managed to manipulate me and i didnt left. but for the first time ever in that fight i had my dominancy as he was guilty of something and i was expressing all what i had even tho im still not satisfied after his reasonings and the conclusion we made after that fight was that i made him promise me that he needs to proove himself and win my trust back again which he promised and told dont leave me and was later crying on vc which broke me as he told at that same time his father scolded him so bad and he was so weak at that moment that i felt pity yet the urge to fly over to him and calm him down as he was like im not a good bf nor a son. its just idk what im writing but i love him sfm that i just cant even if it involves sacrificing my mental health as in the past i was being tortured with words hella alot if boys even came in my convo or slightly involved in my uni life and the end was always me crying hard and loosing sleep. iwas in the circle then but now as i managed to see frm outside ,after i told it all to my soulsis my bestie, it feels so unfair.
even to mention that day's timeline was him crying, begging me to stay, having that anxiety attack after thinking his life without me all whilst being in my arms when i told him that maybe im loosing feelings for him (whose reason was the words he said to me when we had a fight after discovering that fb thing which he promised he wont do again.) and that sameday i discovered that sc thing for the second time and us having a big argument abt it as i asked for space etc but he was later able to convince me not to leave.
then certain re-ignition yet being head over heels over someone in my uni whom i liked as a person he was since last 6 months but i never had that strong feeling of love (idk what it is but my bestfr says that its love) until lastweek out of nowhere which made my situation super worse maybe it was after the prayer i made to Lord that give me whats better for me so maybe he paved ways and gave signs as since then things are developing between him and i and ik he loves me too but at the same time we both are hiding and unable to accept as he got goals maybe and im loyal to my bf... we never even for once flirted but its just the eyes and heart and how genuinely i speak about him which changes it all, the fact that we dont even have interaction as much as i always limited it till studies and he is a very gentleman type of person so yea i hope it makes sense even my bestfr says the same that maybe he is the one u deserve but nvm i cantt leave my bf and it would be hella hard as he is highly dependent on my love which i want to give yet i cant even imagine my life without him and he literally knows everything about me, we planned our eveything together, his whole fam knows and its been a long time we planned a long term thing but most importantly i dont want to hurt anyone thro my existence neither him nor that university boy. thats literally the last thing i want and now im stuck condemning myself that its all my fault to feel this way about that uni boy and still loving my bf.
and due to some sort of developments and the convo with that uni boy is getting bit more comfortable, my besties adviced me that they think i should rather let him know that im in a rls otherwise he would get hurt but what if he judged my character and stopped talking to me afterwards? but nvm my friend told me to avoid him and whenever our convo goes out of studies i shouldnt.
im super stuck to what to do and my heart isnt at peace even its so hard to reply to his love txts and im feeling literally so bad about it as im constantly having that urge to cry whenever we talk, which is like alot yk as we're always on vcs or talking thro txts, cause he loves me and now i lost my feelings for him its just idk what my heart wants, im such a bad human a bad gf and ijdk what in this fucking world my heart wants me to do, maybe i would never be happy in my life ever. im having a hard time letting things sway.. trust is there but its been ruined previously and the fact im so attached which is making me unable to take a decision as i love him but at the same time having feelings about someone else but i cant even think abt leaving him as am severely stuck . idk the ways of how to tackle with my situation.
ill appreciate that u made it till here, i got very bad explanatory skills but i hope atleast u mightve got an idea of my situation and i would be super glad to yalls advices as im literally suffering so bad. i need ur help and how to cope up with this situation.
PLS MENTION ME IN UR PRAYERS:)
ILY GUYSS
submitted by AncientCamel7611 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
idk how to interpret what my heart is going thro atm after 1.3 yrs of rls but all what i feel is pure baffleness and anxiety. im so stuck that leaving him or even thinking about him is making me feel guilty about something ive never done and thoughts like he loves me tirelessly so how would he live without me? i just wanna pour all my love to him even if im not at peace and always feeling like all what is happening is wrong, wrong for my mental health and my personal wellbeing as i think i would no longer be able to give him love as heartfully as i did.
its just am at a point in which him expressing his love for me, his random ilys or some cheesy goofy talks arent giving me the same happiness it used to give in the past. there are multiple reasons which mightve led to this one of which includes him having girls on his sc even after controlling my whole uni life and keeping me away from boys, i literally broke friendships avoided people and being a bad character in my life just for the sake of us but when i discovered him doing something which was firslty not allowed to me and secondly it was what i didnt felt right about as every rls has dynamics and it just didnt matched ours.
the main issue which gave us a rough patch was when we were on my bday lunch date, my intuition was sensing something is happening fishy behind my back since our last 2 3 meetups as he always refused to give his phone in my hands even tho so far i didnt found something that if he is cheating on me but whatever it is its still so strange not to share with me about his snapchat female friends i wouldve been angry if he wouldve told me but later i wouldve accepted and wouldve asked for the sam permission which i did in our biggest fight last week. in the samefight last week he gave a reasoning that i didnt told u cause 'i didnt wanted to have male friends too blah blah' why tf he was having girls? even tho the vague explanation he gave me was just like we dont even talk and they re just friends. i dont even open their snaps, they were present before you and he even sweared upon it that he got nothing with 'em and that date day after i saw everything was ruined and the only thing i was wanting at that stage was my 2 female friends and their shoulder to cry upon as honestly my lord knows how much of uni life i sacrificed for him and totally alienated yet stopped myself from doing things he didnt wanted me to. that same day he promised me that he would block yet remove all of them but in the last meetup which was on this saturday, i asked him to see his sc all cause of my strong intuition as i had a gut feeling that things are still the same, he firstly hesitated a bit and started becoming goofy just to stop me but nvm i managed to see his sc which he showed himself whilst the phone was still in his hands and thats the point which made me sus and i wasnt satisfied then i managed to ask him to see for the second time and he with his strange guilty-felt behaviour showed me, i then immediately clicked on search bar as convos can be cleared frm mainscreen so yea there i found bunch of girls in that bsf list and this broke me hella hard and at that v moment i wasnt able to accept it as he himself said that theyre removed but nvm they werent which i discovered after he left as at that time i had initiall shock and he was about to leave so yea-
one more thing to add that i saw more than 2 girls there but he denied means he partially accepted and said theyre the same people on his insta and were only 2 but as far as i rmr they werent and yk the fact that he was so proud and wasnt accepting until i told him to screenshare on which he tried to hide but i caught him eventually as he scrolled so fast and said see theres noone and stopped the screen but still as God wanted me to show me so after he screen shared again, one person was left to be unfriended which he might missed and thats how i caught him.
the question is my tears doesnt matter? and him who actually accepted his mistake at the first encounter time and was literally like that 'ik im wrong ishouldnt have done it, i shouldve known how much it would hurt u' but still repeating the same thing and letting them there is something which didnt satisfied me till this date as are those girls that much imp? am i not the priority? my feelings or anything? still while writing this im like he loves me endlessly and im literally his bestie his partner and just everything so how can i leave him but tbvh since then im not feeling happy and its just my heart isnt permitting me.. fb searches/visits of 3 4 girls profiles etc etc that has been happening like multiple times upon which he never admitted rather always putted me in guilt that i dont trust him... even after our fight which was presumbly the last one as i had enough of his toxic behaviour(didnt knew it was until i shared everything with bestie) which idk is masculinity or claiming behaviour but ive always loved that and never even for once humiliated or said to him that im interrogating him or being so rude when angry or in guilt ive always been the one who said sorry as i want to save us all cause he loved me so much and we both did alot but idk after this above issue i lost trust and i was hurt to the core as it hurt me so bad and he still managed to manipulate me and i didnt left. but for the first time ever in that fight i had my dominancy as he was guilty of something and i was expressing all what i had even tho im still not satisfied after his reasonings and the conclusion we made after that fight was that i made him promise me that he needs to proove himself and win my trust back again which he promised and told dont leave me and was later crying on vc which broke me as he told at that same time his father scolded him so bad and he was so weak at that moment that i felt pity yet the urge to fly over to him and calm him down as he was like im not a good bf nor a son. its just idk what im writing but i love him sfm that i just cant even if it involves sacrificing my mental health as in the past i was being tortured with words hella alot if boys even came in my convo or slightly involved in my uni life and the end was always me crying hard and loosing sleep. iwas in the circle then but now as i managed to see frm outside ,after i told it all to my soulsis my bestie, it feels so unfair.
even to mention that day's timeline was him crying, begging me to stay, having that anxiety attack after thinking his life without me all whilst being in my arms when i told him that maybe im loosing feelings for him (whose reason was the words he said to me when we had a fight after discovering that fb thing which he promised he wont do again.) and that sameday i discovered that sc thing for the second time and us having a big argument abt it as i asked for space etc but he was later able to convince me not to leave.
then certain re-ignition yet being head over heels over someone in my uni whom i liked as a person he was since last 6 months but i never had that strong feeling of love (idk what it is but my bestfr says that its love) until lastweek out of nowhere which made my situation super worse maybe it was after the prayer i made to Lord that give me whats better for me so maybe he paved ways and gave signs as since then things are developing between him and i and ik he loves me too but at the same time we both are hiding and unable to accept as he got goals maybe and im loyal to my bf... we never even for once flirted but its just the eyes and heart and how genuinely i speak about him which changes it all, the fact that we dont even have interaction as much as i always limited it till studies and he is a very gentleman type of person so yea i hope it makes sense even my bestfr says the same that maybe he is the one u deserve but nvm i cantt leave my bf and it would be hella hard as he is highly dependent on my love which i want to give yet i cant even imagine my life without him and he literally knows everything about me, we planned our eveything together, his whole fam knows and its been a long time we planned a long term thing but most importantly i dont want to hurt anyone thro my existence neither him nor that university boy. thats literally the last thing i want and now im stuck condemning myself that its all my fault to feel this way about that uni boy and still loving my bf.
and due to some sort of developments and the convo with that uni boy is getting bit more comfortable, my besties adviced me that they think i should rather let him know that im in a rls otherwise he would get hurt but what if he judged my character and stopped talking to me afterwards? but nvm my friend told me to avoid him and whenever our convo goes out of studies i shouldnt.
im super stuck to what to do and my heart isnt at peace even its so hard to reply to his love txts and im feeling literally so bad about it as im constantly having that urge to cry whenever we talk, which is like alot yk as we're always on vcs or talking thro txts, cause he loves me and now i lost my feelings for him its just idk what my heart wants, im such a bad human a bad gf and ijdk what in this fucking world my heart wants me to do, maybe i would never be happy in my life ever. im having a hard time letting things sway.. trust is there but its been ruined previously and the fact im so attached which is making me unable to take a decision as i love him but at the same time having feelings about someone else but i cant even think abt leaving him as am severely stuck . idk the ways of how to tackle with my situation.
ill appreciate that u made it till here, i got very bad explanatory skills but i hope atleast u mightve got an idea of my situation and i would be super glad to yalls advices as im literally suffering so bad. i need ur help and how to cope up with this situation.
PLS MENTION ME IN UR PRAYERS:)
ILY GUYSS
2024.05.15 22:00 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 100.000$+ INVENTORY. BFK Lore, Gloves Amphibious, Skeleton Fade, Bowie Emerald, BFK Auto, Gloves MF, Talon Doppler, Gloves POW, Bayo Tiger, Gut Sapphire, Stiletto MF, M9 Ultra, Ursus Doppler, Flip Doppler, M9 Stained, Nomad CW, Paracord CW, AK-47 X-Ray & A Lot More