Houston street names

A Subreddit for Street Names of Common Objects

2015.09.26 02:46 Computer_Hax0r A Subreddit for Street Names of Common Objects

[link]


2008.06.19 08:23 Houston, TX

For everyone in the Houston metro area. Keep up with the news about the 9-county region on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
[link]


2010.12.25 07:20 WholeNewPerson Ents of Houston, UNITE!!!

[link]


2024.05.22 01:49 eatpoopanddrinkpee I'm planning to leave everything behind

Backup account because people know my main.
I (M22) have been unhappy for years now. When I lived in my home state, I was homeless and using pills regularly after my parents passed away. Long story short, I met someone (M23) online just before they passed, and he would come to visit me once in a while even though he was about 3 hours away, he's the sweetest and kindest person I've ever met. When my parents passed and I spiraled, he took me home with him. His family has been so amazing to me, and I can't thank them enough for everything they've done.. I have a roof over my head, I haven't taken any pills, I have a full time job and a part time job.. but I feel like such a burden every single day.. I don't make enough money to have my own apartment, even if my partners income was involved, I don't have a car or even a license for that matter.. the average rent in our area is around $2,400 a month. I only make about $2,200 a month between both jobs, and with my secondary insurance, personal items, phone bill, rent, and groceries, I have about $200 left at the end of every pay period (biweekly) to put towards my savings. My partner has student loan payments, car payments, gas, groceries, phone bill, rent and car insurance to pay.. I don't know how much he has left at the end of the month, but he doesn't make much more than me so it can't be a lot. I know this makes me sound like an ungrateful asshole, but I feel like all I do is take up space and cause problems.. I just wanna get on a train and leave, go somewhere out west and wander the streets again.. I was in bad shape last time, but I wasn't a bother to anyone, just the people walking over me on the sidewalk.. maybe I'll find a job out there, change my name, live by myself and leave everything I am right now right here.. I'm so sick and tired of being dependent on other people and making them feel like I'm their responsibility.. I just wanna start over again and keep to myself, I don't want friends anymore, I don't want love I don't want people anymore I'm so sick and tired of caring about everything.. I just wanna go away.
submitted by eatpoopanddrinkpee to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:46 RandomUserLikeU HELP ME FIND THIS PLS šŸ˜­

I'm really desperate by this point, cuz I think I just imagined it all. I have very foggy dreams at night about a series I supposedly watched when I was a kid. It was from Netflix (not sure if it was an original).
There are only few things I can remember. For example, it was an animated series about the WW2 (or WW1?? I can't remember which one), and there were those kids who were living at a small city. Some soldiers would pass by the streets and bother some people, the kid's parents would ask them to stay away from the soldiers. There was also a old man that lived with them, he would stay all day listening to the radio. I think all the were blonde (dk how this could help but I just remember that).
There is a specific part I remember abou them crossing a bridge (there were also a lot of families crossing the bridge too), they were escaping from their city, but I can't remember why. There was also that kid I remember called "Pierre", but I can't remember the other kids' names.
I used to watch this series with my dad as I remember, but he swears he doesn't know anything about this. I'm starting to think it never existed :(.
ps: I also remember a scene about the kids finding an English broken planet in the woods and an English soldier (can't remember if he was dead or alive), but it may be possible I'm mistaking it with another movie I saw that had this same type of scene.
submitted by RandomUserLikeU to HelpMeFindThis [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:45 tdegeorge 1 Bedroom Available in Twin Rivers Commons

1 Bedroom Available in Twin Rivers Commons
Hey everyone,
I'm looking for someone to relet my room for the upcoming 2024/2025 school year because unfortunately I need to take a medical leave. The apartment currently has three female upperclassmen who are all great to live with.
Apartment Details: - Complex: Twin River Commons - Model: Hudson - Bedrooms: 4 (3 additional female roomates) - Bathrooms: 4 - Square Footage: 1,382 sq. ft. - Rent: $1,004 per month (current listing start at $1,079)
Features: - Washer and dryer in unit - Spacious living and dining area - Modern kitchen with all necessary appliances - Private bathrooms for each bedroom - Free Wi-Fi - Utilities included
Amenities: - Two on-site fitness gyms - Study lounges on each floor with printers - Complementary Starbucks coffee - Vending machines and pool table - Paid secured parking spot on site - Close to downtown restaurants and nightlife - Next-door to University Downtown Center and Blue bus stop
Location: - Address: 45 Washington Street, Binghamton, NY
Additional Information: - The lease runs from 8/15/2024 to 7/31/2025
If you're interested or need more information, please contact me at: - Name: Andrea - Phone: (845) 283-6424 - Email: adegeorge279@gmail.com
submitted by tdegeorge to BearcatsMarketplace [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:28 id_rather_be_asleep_ AITA for thinking my sister needs to be ā€œscared straightā€ by the police?

Long time reader, first time writer.
I (26F) have a younger sister (16F). When she was about 3-5 years old, she would have extreme temper tantrums when she wouldnā€™t get what she wantedā€¦now it has migrated to her teenage years.
For context, my sister has 2 jobs and works her ass off. She has a debit card and pays for her own car payments and insurance. She got this car less than 6 months ago. Ever since getting the car she is taking advantage of the ā€œindependenceā€ that it gives her. So much so that she thinks itā€™s ok to be late to school multiple times a month. She has received several Saturday schools and detentions because of this. My parents are fed up with her being irresponsible and took away her car. She was furious. Cursing at my parents, calling them names, throwing things, she destroyed one of those standing, oscillating fans. Like broke it into piecesā€¦she has a history of laying hands on my mom before as well. She can get very scary when she gets violent. So much so that my mom is scared to tell her no or punish her due to the way she acts. She takes no responsibility for her actions what so ever and thinks itā€™s totally ok to throw these ā€œtantrums.ā€
When things died down, she needed to get something out of her car. My dad refused to give her the keys due to him fearing that she was going to drive off. She got mad and screamed at him. She got so mad that she made the complete irrational decision of walking out of the house. No shoes. No phone (parents already took it away). She was walking on the streets alone with no way to be tracked down. Mind you this is about 8pm and itā€™s getting cold. She was ā€œmissingā€ for an hour. Didnā€™t even care that we were worried about her. Side note: she was found and she was fine. But again, she will not take responsibly for her actions.
So, AITA for thinking that my sister needs to be ā€œscared straightā€ by the police to see what can happen if the police were called if she harmed my parents, destroyed property or running away from home as a minor?
submitted by id_rather_be_asleep_ to TwoHotTakes [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:27 jsimait1 The Mimic of Warner Castle

Chapter 1: The Journey from Ireland

In the early 1980s, the McAllister family immigrated from Ireland to the United States, hoping for a fresh start. Maeve McAllister, the eldest daughter, had always felt out of place in her homeland. Born with autism, Maeve often found herself isolated and misunderstood. While other children played together, she preferred the solitude of her backyard, where she could immerse herself in her imagination. The neighborhood children, however, were less understanding, frequently mocking her for her differences.
Maeve's parents, Patrick and Moira, believed that America would offer their daughter a better chance at acceptance and a fulfilling life. They settled in Rochester, New York, where Patrick found work as a construction worker, and Moira took up sewing. Maeve, in her early twenties, secured a position as a caretaker at the historic Warner Castle, a stone mansion with sprawling gardens and a mysterious past.

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

Warner Castle was a gothic marvel, its stone walls and towering spires standing as a testament to a bygone era. Maeve found solace in her work, tending to the gardens and maintaining the old building. The castle's tranquility was a stark contrast to her turbulent childhood, and she began to feel a sense of belonging she had never known before.
Despite the comfort of her new surroundings, Maeve couldn't shake the feeling of unease that sometimes crept into her thoughts. She had heard whispers about a new phenomenon spreading through Rochester: the super mutant X gene called The Catalyst. It was said to grant extraordinary abilities to those it affected, but its true nature remained shrouded in mystery.

Chapter 3: A Night of Tragedy

One stormy night, as Maeve's parents drove through the rain-soaked streets of Rochester, tragedy struck. Their car collided with a tractor-trailer, flipping over and crashing onto the roadside. Patrick and Moira did not survive the accident, leaving Maeve alone in a foreign land, with only the castle as her refuge.
Devastated by the loss of her parents, Maeve poured herself into her work, finding solace in the routine. One evening, while cleaning the castle's dusty attic, she discovered an old, ornate chest. Intrigued by its intricate carvings and the aura of mystery it exuded, Maeve carefully opened the chest.

Chapter 4: The Catalyst Awakens

As Maeve lifted the lid, a brilliant light burst forth, enveloping her in its radiance. Unbeknownst to her, this chest had been infused with The Catalyst. The light merged with Maeve, transforming her body and mind. She felt an intense surge of energy, and when the light faded, she found herself fused with the chest, able to transform into a mimic at will.
Realizing her newfound abilities, Maeve adopted the name "Mymik." She could now seamlessly blend into her surroundings, taking on the appearance of inanimate objects or even other people. Her favorite form was that of her chest, which she could carry on her back as a backpack, allowing her to switch between her human and mimic forms effortlessly.

Chapter 5: The New Arrival

Years passed, and the castle changed hands. The new owners, the Thompsons, moved in with their young son, Ethan. Ethan Thompson, a curious and adventurous boy, loved to explore the castle's nooks and crannies. One day, while rummaging through the attic, he stumbled upon the chest that Maeve had once discovered.
As Ethan approached the chest, it sprang open, and Mymik emerged, startling the young boy. Despite his initial shock, Ethan quickly realized that Mymik was not a threat. Fascinated by her abilities and her story, Ethan became her confidant and friend.

Chapter 6: A New Purpose

With Ethan's encouragement, Mymik began to embrace her abilities and her new identity. She used her powers to protect the castle and its inhabitants, thwarting any who sought to exploit its secrets. Over time, Mymik and Ethan developed a bond that was more than just friendship; they became a team, dedicated to uncovering the mysteries of The Catalyst and ensuring that its power was used for good.
As Mymik's legend grew, she became a symbol of hope for others who felt different or out of place. Through her journey, Maeve McAllister had transformed from a misunderstood girl into a powerful guardian, finding her true purpose in the process.

Chapter 7: The Catalyst's Call

One day, a new threat emerged in Rochester, a rogue group seeking to harness The Catalyst's power for their own nefarious purposes. Mymik and Ethan knew they had to act. With the fate of their city hanging in the balance, they set out to confront the rogue group, determined to protect Rochester and the legacy of The Catalyst.
In their quest, they encountered other individuals who had been touched by The Catalyst, each with their own unique abilities. Together, they formed an alliance, a new generation of heroes united by a common cause. Mymik, once a solitary caretaker, now found herself at the heart of a movement that would change the world forever.
And so, the tale of Mymik and The Catalyst continued, a story of transformation, resilience, and the enduring power of hope.
submitted by jsimait1 to MarvelFanStory [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:26 Dismal-Conflict-7119 Please pray for my son and I

Hello. Itā€™s weird coming to Reddit for these type of situations. However, I cannot seem to bring myself to my knees to pray. I left my sonā€˜s father at the end of January. For the past four months, itā€™s been nothing but trouble with him. He was mentally, physically, verbally and spiritually abusive. I tried my best to coparent with him for the sake of our son. However, every time I give him a chance to be in my sonā€™s life, he shows me over and over again that he doesnā€™t care about my son let alone me. Even though we are not together, he continued to put his hands on me. He continued to damage my property, including my phone, My sonā€˜s iPad, our 65 inch TV. Finally, I decided I had enough. I pressed charges on him for all the things he broke as well as the final time he put his hands on me. Since then he has been following me all over Houston using the tracker that he put in my car. He has also come into my apartment and took everything I had, and left me with nothing. Surely he cannot claim that he cares about my son if he is willing to do these things. Iā€™m sure he only thinks heā€™s hurting me, but all of this indirectly affects our child as well. He took our water, He took my sonā€˜s diapers, his wipes, both of our Social Securityā€˜s, both of our birth certificates, all of my clothes, all of my shoes all of my toiletries-bath soap, deodorant, makeup, etc. I called the cops and I pressed charges for theft because he admitted to me over text that he took all these things. They also helped me to get started on a protective order and I also filed for child support. However, I find myself so angry with God for allowing this to happen, which is not right, of course. My Child has been walking around with out a diaper for two days. we have no food. I have no money. I donā€™t know what to pray for or what move to make next. I feel bitter numb and angry. Please please please say a prayer for me. My name is Nicole. My sonā€™s name is remy. Please pray for us!!!
submitted by Dismal-Conflict-7119 to PrayerRequests [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:26 WurstofWisdom No more negativity about our fantastic council.

Iā€™m sick of hearing about how our council and city Is performing. Everyday we have people complaining about ā€œcouncil did this/council forgot about thisā€ etc. But there is plenty to be positive about! Just today - here are three stories to make you feel good about the city.
Council is wisely using its funds on painting lines on paths. No one asked for it, knows what itā€™s for and itā€™s a little on the piss but other then that pretty happy to see my rates spent on this than silly things like graffiti removal or street cleaning!
In a meeting to hear resident feedback, our wise councillor'sshut down a pesky resident who had the audacity to ask the major (oh great one!!) to stop playing her phone whilst people made submissions. A ridiculous request really. Why should we expect the mayor to pretend to listen to feedback they are going to ignore anyway? And remember being critical of the mayor is sexist & racist - itā€™s good the chair cut off the person being mean to her.
Lastly,concerned that council would let you decide what to name your private access street? Have no fear, council is on top of that too! Yes, it may delay projects and cost time and money. But thatā€™s not important, you need to look at the bigger picture and ensure that the driveway has a nice unique name.
submitted by WurstofWisdom to Wellington [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:19 id_rather_be_asleep_ AITA for thinking my sister needs to be ā€œscared straightā€ by the police?

Long time reader, first time writer.
I (26F) have a younger sister (16F). When she was about 3-5 years old, she would have extreme temper tantrums when she wouldnā€™t get what she wantedā€¦now it has migrated to her teenage years.
For context, my sister has 2 jobs and works her ass off. She has a debit card and pays for her own car payments and insurance. She got this car less than 6 months ago. Ever since getting the car she is taking advantage of the ā€œindependenceā€ that it gives her. So much so that she thinks itā€™s ok to be late to school multiple times a month. She has received several Saturday schools and detentions because of this. My parents are fed up with her being irresponsible and took away her car. She was furious. Cursing at my parents, calling them names, throwing things, she destroyed one of those standing, oscillating fans. Like broke it into piecesā€¦she has a history of laying hands on my mom before as well. She can get very scary when she gets violent. So much so that my mom is scared to tell her no or punish her due to the way she acts. She takes no responsibility for her actions what so ever and thinks itā€™s totally ok to throw these ā€œtantrums.ā€
When things died down, she needed to get something out of her car. My dad refused to give her the keys due to him fearing that she was going to drive off. She got mad and screamed at him. She got so mad that she made the complete irrational decision of walking out of the house. No shoes. No phone (parents already took it away). She was walking on the streets alone with no way to be tracked down. Mind you this is about 8pm and itā€™s getting cold. She was ā€œmissingā€ for an hour. Didnā€™t even care that we were worried about her. Side note: she was found and she was fine. But again, she will not take responsibly for her actions.
So, AITA for thinking that my sister needs to be ā€œscared straightā€ by the police to see what can happen if the police were called if she harmed my parents, destroyed property or running away from home as a minor?
submitted by id_rather_be_asleep_ to AITAH [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:10 ThrowRabcwhy My [18F]fiance [18M] yelled at me for defending myself against his bosses sexual harassment. should I apologize?

Hey.. I'm recently 18 and my fiance is also 18. I honestly can't share a whole lot of the details around this story. I'm terrified of being caught. I'll probably delete this post later.
My family, we'll they're apart of this.. Cult. I never understood it. I just thought we were normal Christians, but when I was 8 my sister who was only 16 was married off to this guy Chris, and when I was 9 the same thing happened to my other sister when she was 16. This happened again when I was 11. I knew I was next.
When I was 15 my marriage was arranged with this.. Guy. His name was Bill, he was 32. He was an church gower and was suggested by our pastor. I got to meet him a couple times and he was nice. I didn't want to marry him but I had no choice.
I married him the day after my 16th birthday. When I went home with him... I hated it. He wasnt nice anymore. He was married previously to a girl at our church, but he divorced her for "being broken" apparently she was Infertile and after 7 ish months of trying he gave up. But she got remarried immediately with this other guy and she's pregnant..
He immediately tried to Impregnate me. But after a few months he was getting impatient. I think he was realizing that maybe he was the problem.
Bill had a step brother, Gerry. Gerry was an angel... Bill and Gerry were estranged. Their mother had an affair with a darker man, and Gerry was born, it was obvious this was an affair baby. He was dark. I don't want to reveal any details about my location but..dark people are treated badly here. I barely see any..and when I do.. They're on the streets.
Gerry was a saint despite all the hardship growing up.. He was disgusted with his brother and I'd always hear him insulting and ridiculing him.. Anytime he came over he'd take me aside and make sure I was okay.. He was so sweet.. One time when Bill was working late.. Me and Gerry slept together. He was slow.. Careful. I loved it.
That's when I found out I was pregnant. I knew it was Gerry's,but Bill was happy. Gerry knew, I knew. Bill didn't.
It was Gerry's birthday a month ago. He was 18.
Gerry took me aside and asked if I wanted to leave and have a family with him. I didn't even think, I just said yes. I packed my stuff and snuck out two weeks later.
It took a while but we moved far and got an apartment. It was all of Gerry's savings. We were safe for now. It's scary because I was still a minor for one more month. We just need to be quiet and lay low. We were running out of funds so Gerry got a job. It was VERY hard due to the racism and horrible stereotypes Gerry was suffering with.. But he got a job! I was so proud.
I found out Gerry left to go to work in a hurry and forgot his lunch. He'd usually take just a sandwich. He works so hard so I spent 30 minutes making him a way better and nutritional lunch, then brought it to him, I hadn't been out in a while.
I arrived during lunch and Gerry greeted me with a kiss. We were chatting when I gave him his lunch. His work partners were saying how lucky he was, then his boss came over. I introduced myself and he put his hand on my arm and said Gerry was a lucky guy.
Gerry put his arm around me and laughed it off, he said that we were planning my 18th birthday. I think he said this to let the boss know I wasn't over 18 so he'd stop. But he didn't. He put his hand on my chin.. I got flashbacks to Bill.. He used to do that. So I slapped him. I didn't mean to.
Gerry grabbed my arm and pulled me away, apologizing profusely to his boss. He asked me to go. So I left.. Gerry came home a few hours. He seemed distant. I asked and he got really mad.. He didn't yell. But he was definitely angry. He said that he was in deep trouble, and that he understood that what his boss did was disgusting, but he struggled so hard to get a job due to the prejudice and racism. He held my hands and said that he NEEDED this job for me and the baby. He was crying by the end of it. He wiped his tears and gave me a half hearted apology. He slept on the couch and we haven't talked since..
Didn't do something wrong? I think maybe I should go back and apologize to his boss.. Gerry works so hard.. And even though it doesn't seek like it.. He's so genuine. He brings me home flowers every day that he sees on his trail home. He's so excited to meet our baby girl. (He's certain it's a girl)
Thoughts.?
submitted by ThrowRabcwhy to Advice [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:10 Lazylazylazylazyjane Stores and Restaurants You Miss

Calcutta Cafe
Petite Beurre
The Movie Place
Barber Kaye's (mmmm lollipops!)
Broadway Pizza is still there, but it no longer has the best food in the world and the staff were assholes last time I checked (which was years and years ago)
Hunan Balcony!
That bakery on like 101st and Broadway that used to wrap up their boxes with like 50 yards of red and white string
1980's-1990's era Pet Land on the west side of Broadway. Remember the Macaws in the window?
Pizza Town on 112th <3
Mama Mexico
There was a restaurant that took over Petite Beurre's space that was really good in the early 2000's.
107 West
I forget the name of that Chino/Latino place on 108th street I believe
Garden of Eden of course
The Abbey
Cannons
When there were way more 99 cent store type places on Broadway.
submitted by Lazylazylazylazyjane to Upperwestside [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:10 taeionysus Drive Safe In the Rain!! Huge accident down the hill

Not sure street names but saw 2 cars totaled going up a low visibility curve. These curves and WEATHER are not suitable for N driver speeds.
Dont kill someone trying to get an education.
submitted by taeionysus to simonfraser [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:06 monarchcycoldia āœ Flag of Cycoldia

{
"id": "u0unl8",
"name": "Flag of Cycoldia",
"description": "A micronation located within Houston and London, created onh 6 November 2018, the flag design on Place moved a total of 5 times before being moved to this location. The project at the time was named \"CYC Flag Project\", before being later changed to CYC Project after being put under the direct purview of the Minstry of the Interior of Cycoldia.",
"links": {
"website": [
"https://www.cycoldia.com/"
]
},
"path": {
"123-150": [
[
326,
1902
],
[
326,
1910
],
[
340,
1910
],
[
340,
1902
]
],
"60-85": [
[
1214,
43
],
[
1214,
53
],
[
1229,
53
],
[
1229,
43
]
],
"T:0-1, 151-164": [
[
317,
1897
],
[
317,
1905
],
[
331,
1905
],
[
331,
1897
]
]
},
"center": {
"123-150": [
333,
1906
],
"60-85": [
1222,
48
],
"T:0-1, 151-164": [
324,
1901
]
}
}
submitted by monarchcycoldia to placeAtlas2 [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 01:06 ThrowRabcwhy My [18F]fiance [18M] yelled at me for defending myself against his bosses sexual harassment. should I apologize?

Hey.. I'm recently 18 and my fiance is also 18. I honestly can't share a whole lot of the details around this story. I'm terrified of being caught. I'll probably delete this post later.
My family, we'll they're apart of this.. Cult. I never understood it. I just thought we were normal Christians, but when I was 8 my sister who was only 16 was married off to this guy Chris, and when I was 9 the same thing happened to my other sister when she was 16. This happened again when I was 11. I knew I was next.
When I was 15 my marriage was arranged with this.. Guy. His name was Bill, he was 32. He was an church gower and was suggested by our pastor. I got to meet him a couple times and he was nice. I didn't want to marry him but I had no choice.
I married him the day after my 16th birthday. When I went home with him... I hated it. He wasnt nice anymore. He was married previously to a girl at our church, but he divorced her for "being broken" apparently she was Infertile and after 7 ish months of trying he gave up. But she got remarried immediately with this other guy and she's pregnant..
He immediately tried to Impregnate me. But after a few months he was getting impatient. I think he was realizing that maybe he was the problem.
Bill had a step brother, Gerry. Gerry was an angel... Bill and Gerry were estranged. Their mother had an affair with a darker man, and Gerry was born, it was obvious this was an affair baby. He was dark. I don't want to reveal any details about my location but..dark people are treated badly here. I barely see any..and when I do.. They're on the streets.
Gerry was a saint despite all the hardship growing up.. He was disgusted with his brother and I'd always hear him insulting and ridiculing him.. Anytime he came over he'd take me aside and make sure I was okay.. He was so sweet.. One time when Bill was working late.. Me and Gerry slept together. He was slow.. Careful. I loved it.
That's when I found out I was pregnant. I knew it was Gerry's,but Bill was happy. Gerry knew, I knew. Bill didn't.
It was Gerry's birthday a month ago. He was 18.
Gerry took me aside and asked if I wanted to leave and have a family with him. I didn't even think, I just said yes. I packed my stuff and snuck out two weeks later.
It took a while but we moved far and got an apartment. It was all of Gerry's savings. We were safe for now. It's scary because I was still a minor for one more month. We just need to be quiet and lay low. We were running out of funds so Gerry got a job. It was VERY hard due to the racism and horrible stereotypes Gerry was suffering with.. But he got a job! I was so proud.
I found out Gerry left to go to work in a hurry and forgot his lunch. He'd usually take just a sandwich. He works so hard so I spent 30 minutes making him a way better and nutritional lunch, then brought it to him, I hadn't been out in a while.
I arrived during lunch and Gerry greeted me with a kiss. We were chatting when I gave him his lunch. His work partners were saying how lucky he was, then his boss came over. I introduced myself and he put his hand on my arm and said Gerry was a lucky guy.
Gerry put his arm around me and laughed it off, he said that we were planning my 18th birthday. I think he said this to let the boss know I wasn't over 18 so he'd stop. But he didn't. He put his hand on my chin.. I got flashbacks to Bill.. He used to do that. So I slapped him. I didn't mean to.
Gerry grabbed my arm and pulled me away, apologizing profusely to his boss. He asked me to go. So I left.. Gerry came home a few hours. He seemed distant. I asked and he got really mad.. He didn't yell. But he was definitely angry. He said that he was in deep trouble, and that he understood that what his boss did was disgusting, but he struggled so hard to get a job due to the prejudice and racism. He held my hands and said that he NEEDED this job for me and the baby. He was crying by the end of it. He wiped his tears and gave me a half hearted apology. He slept on the couch and we haven't talked since..
Didn't do something wrong? I think maybe I should go back and apologize to his boss.. Gerry works so hard.. And even though it doesn't seek like it.. He's so genuine. He brings me home flowers every day that he sees on his trail home. He's so excited to meet our baby girl. (He's certain it's a girl)
Thoughts.?
submitted by ThrowRabcwhy to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:56 Typhon-Apep Why are so many streets named Locust?

Just in the general area where I live there's three streets called Locust. I live in the U.S., so there are no locusts here and it seems strange to name something after an insect that's considered to be a plague.
submitted by Typhon-Apep to NoStupidQuestions [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:47 pinkshopaholic20 Married for 20 years, I need divorce

Married for 20 years, i need divorce.
Married for 20 years. Grew apart. Very unhappy, but too scared to have divorce because we have a 12 yo. daughter, have a house that was purchased in 2021 & have 3 cars.
We reside in Nevada, my main concern is how does custody work in Nevada? Does my daughter get to choose which parent she wants to go with?
The house is under my name, my soon to be ex husband is a co-owner, how do we go about selling the house? We still owe so much money from the house since we just got it less than 5 years ago, can we make money out of it if we sell it?
On top of it all, soon to be ex husband has bad credit which means tru the marriage all the cards & loans were all under my name. Now he is threatening me that all the debt is going to me & that my credit would be ruined because of my inability to pay all of them once we separate.
Im too scared to lose everything i have and end up on the streets because of ruined credit.
I have a job but i just do not know where to start. His entire family is here. My family is in the Philippines. Losing him would mean Iā€™ll be entirely alone here in the US.
Hope somebody can enlighten me.
submitted by pinkshopaholic20 to Divorce [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:47 dabgmaer13 What can I do about delusions?

I know theyā€™re wrong. I know theyā€™re ridiculous. But that doesnā€™t change how present they are in my subconscious and how they dominate my psyche when things get bad. I have this belief that controls my behavior that resulted from multiple traumas. Itā€™s embarrassing to admit but I need help.
After being attacked, targeted, and threatened by so many people I have this concept in my head. There is a secret organization called the CfAAxx [Committee for Action Against (my name)]. They convene at varying times to decide how to mess with my life and make me feel afraid.
Every time a car pulls over to start harassing me, I automatically think to myself ā€œmust be a committee memberā€. Every time someone makes eye contact with me on the street for a little too long (one of my worst triggers), I think ā€œthey decided to start the staring againā€. I can say it seems silly now, but the moment anything bad happens involving others this belief comes into my head. Sometimes I start screaming in the street, and although itā€™s hard to remember what happens there, I do remember saying the committee is close by. The traumas all seem too similar and coordinated in my head for me to believe these are one off events.
Nobody I know has stuff going on like this. Iā€™m just asking for anyone that has a similar problem, how do you deal with it?
submitted by dabgmaer13 to ptsd [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:32 Defiant-Flower-135 I wish I turned out differently

M21 I'm doubting if it was strict parenting or if it was the drink but I want opinions. She has done a lot but I don't feel entirely satisfied either. But in the days I have drafted this, my doubts only grow.
As a kid my mom hawked over me and now things I wish I could have experienced did not exist, like going to a park or playground with a friend without supervision, whereas she did. Going to the gas station for snack I couldn't, when she asked her parents and was given a quarter when everything was a cent. Riding a bike was limited to the street we live on, and when I was able to leave, I couldn't leave the neighborhood when she walked for a while to make sure her friend got home. Once sitting on my bike at the edge of the sidewalk and she walked over, cursed me out for going on a different street and wouldn't believe me. I couldn't go to a friends house because I was going to do my homework how my teacher taught me instead of hers, which I didnt know and was not taught. At a friends house, she berated me for making her wait in the car for a few minutes longer than the arranged pickup time. By comparison to what it would have been like, it is a magical opportunity lost.
For most of my school years, all I did was go to school, do homework and play games. Despite catching on to lessons quickly, classes were something to pass, nothing more, not even for life skills. Have a B? Make it an A. I did. Is the project due? Make it better. Alright. Taking orchestra and painting was fleeting then and while I enjoyed it, it was only done for practice or assignment. Now I am upset that it was all I did instead of going out and experiencing life: going out with friends, finding a club or sport to do, or just big activity sessions. Never had a curfew because I never left home to start. I may have had fun gaming then, but I lament heavy over that now to where I will not touch one. A future education and the future as a whole I should have taken a lot more seriously than I could possibly have imagined. School did push for it, but I was a fool and did not care.
Other than the occasional family visit, I did nothing and learned nothing. Never taught to cook much, properly clean, shop for necessities, make right finances, etc. Future prospects was left to whatever I would choose, which I would put it later down the road. Never got any real world experience and just been sheltered for so long, both by my doing and my moms. No drive to do anything, nothing of a hopeful future, no being pulled out of whatever I was doing to learn anything or having skills necessary in the world today be incentivized. Aside from making sure I did well in school, I was left to myself.
She always has something to complain about. Streaks of mean and grumpy. Remembered somethings of what we were interested in but other times just an empty face. Who my mom is today is doom and gloom, speaking two different points that are showing the worst of her and nitpicking over every possible detail. Most of who she enjoys in media has an underlying toxic presence to them with name calling. Polarize, prejudice, politicize, judge and bias everything. Norway and Iceland? Too cold and mountainous, how could anyone have settled there? Germany? They all speak the same language and cannot understand anyone in a city that is 30 minutes away. That guy's accent she can't stand and defaulted to being generated, even though he sounds the same speaking Finnish. All for a better planet yet everything is wasted, trashed, or sent to China. Treat others how you want to be and from where I stand, seem like a backtalking coward. Couldn't have a water pitcher because "no one refilled it" to keep the filter going when I made sure to keep it plentiful. If she has a problem she will bring up the one exact same example related to the topic that I have heard plenty before. And most of the negative aspects of society happen more likely than they should. All while bring home a 24, 30 or however many count of budweiser a week at least. I imagine we only got along because I wasn't a brat anymore and did not try to upset her. Falling in line if you will.
Emotions bottled or maybe emotionally dead. The masculinity trap of what is the general expectation of "men". To express myself, to show emotion, to even cry is something I don't want to do out of fear of being seen, which is ironic given the code of the samurai. 6th grade she didn't remember to pick me up even though I said and called and a friend and his friend caught me being emotional and stayed around a bit to comfort me.
The fear that was put into everything. An actual quote went something as "If you get hurt, I'm not going to drive you to the hospital". Another "All girls are evil". And "that sounds too confrontational" when I asked neighbors to clean after their dog. Even questioning if my eyes doing something required a doctor for her to say that my eyes will fail naturally and something about her relative who had an eye problem and didn't see a doctor. Things that made me not do the kinds of things I want to do now. I have been so sheltered then and now that I want to go out but there is the ever scared part of me towards the unknown world. I feel I have been prejudiced into thinking such ways but there's no personal experience to back or challenge said thoughts.
Admittably, parts of me are glad I know what I have and want for morals and mindset, but its also a matter of temptation and theres still so much that I wish to explore. At times I feel I matured too quickly at the cost of a kids stupidity or innocence and now am too serious and heavyhearted for my own good. To be told how I've matured when there wasn't much to mature from. A part of me feels that I have taken after her cold, judgemental, selfish attitude and that makes me fearful to screw up any kind of friendship or relationship, and dreading that I could reflect that onto any child I may have no matter how far away into the future I do have one. I kind of want to hate her but I am so emotionally gone or warped that I can't. If I "rebel" now, or begin to, I feel that might get the fire started.
She would argue with my dad from time to time but then that continued on for days and it was a cold environment lasting days to weeks after a fight. Even prior to their fights, they rarely slept together in the same bed, let alone the same room. She would critique his employer and even his choice of friends. Once he woke up late, thus having us late to get ready for school and she began one for that. I don't remember the exact details but she once criticized him over a coat he got me. All while listening from the top of the stairs to even the bottom where I was covered by a wall. A few times we listened and we made noise that I think made them aware of us but that didn't stop them. Even starting in our presence where we would leave the room. It got to the point where he actually packed lightly to leave for the night or days and my brother and I stopped him just so he could be home. I wish I did let him go then.
I really do believe I could have had it differently if my dad was alive. He made such an effort. When I was in hospital at 4, he made the efforts to get me out and moving around. When I didn't know a swim style, he literally chucked me towards the deeper waters (I was scared, but he was right in the end, one of the fondest memories). He taught me how to use the mower and had a mini shop set up in the garage. I played with him so much and he got me into the complex games he enjoyed as I got older. For as rough we were, he was so gentle. I looked up to him then and even more than ever now. He made the effort to be one worthy of "Dad" and he was damn well worthy of that and no one could be more better for me.
"Faded gray are all the days of yesteryears So much time has turned to memories and to tears" -Valkyrja
I did graduate HS 3 years ago, did a summer program and since nothing. No job, education chances, or life plans. Even though I felt smarter, I was turned off of college simply for cost reasons and "feeding the rich" mindset. Last summer I began to look at my past and future with a whole new look with no physical change taking effect. First week into March this year I realized what I have been doing compared to how others are living through good and bad and I fell into depression hard. Now it persists with great off and on. Where I have been up at 9 in the morning to suddenly be up at 5 or 6 in the afternoon. Throughout the past 3 years, there was no making sure I was ok, no seeing how I felt, no finding out what I wanted to do. And I am still frightened of what may be out there, even when that is the key to the living that I want. I want to go, I need to go. But where? I leave for the good and better of myself, but I also leave behind this place I've called home, yet it's now so far from the one I want to remember with a fond memory. So much happens that seems to have been "normal" when it doesn't seem like it should. The same place with the same inhabitants in the same motions. No going out, no difference, no change, and VERY artificial. Nothing means anything anymore. To let how I feel about the previous years subside in me or blow over...
Always have been insecure, hesitant, second guessing. While others had spent their 18s, 19s and 20s going into the world doing many things, I've had the summer program at 18, nothing at 19, and two days in the big city to attend a concert at 20. Little noteworthy moments under my belt. It seems like love in the immediate family was not two ways or had to be earned. I have not grown. Who I am is not who I want to be at heart.
For 21, I know I should have more skills and be in better places, but theres nothing from anyone. No check-in, no advice, no motivation. Like "the birdling will leave the nest" instead of anyone preparing a boy to what is before him. Its not a snap of fingers or blink of an eye do I learn what is expected. On the grown up part, I feel heavily underprepared for the world and life. Far too long have I stayed and lived in my head. I cannot understand why I am still at home, a part of myself thinks to keep the peace but what peace needs to be kept? Nothing and no one is stopping me from leaving except myself and the thought that they will most definitely want to know where I am if I go, which I do not want to tell anyone. Or that I've been sheltered and not have realised the gates have been unlocked long ago. Things are not ok and I want to stop pretending when I leave. Even with Spring's green grass under a blue sky that ends the day with the orange sunset piercing the clouds to make them blue and pink do I feel grey.
"Watching to the night with tired eyes Waiting for nothing all my life" -Battle Against Time
I feel the kid within me, wanting to do those exciting things, yearning for any kind of companion or fellowship. What daylight reveries I can conjure to make him feel hopeful enough so he can shine soon. The things I want to do to feel happy. I want to water that little guy.
A lot of this I have remembered recently and still am connecting the dots. I already am upset at myself for not doing anything in life, but I want to be angry and I honestly hate myself for not seeing this sooner and listening to her for so long. Despite feeling broken and defunct, I still feel young enough but there's been so little done that it feels many chances are long gone. There is more freedoms I have that I do not know about and ones that I have had before that gathered dust. And now I am in a toss up between beginning college preparation now, leaving states or the country to act on these now childhood regrets. I don't want to be who I am now any longer. I just want to do something. And in between it all, confusion of what to do, how to feel and saddened that I am not who I once was or could have been.
submitted by Defiant-Flower-135 to AdultChildren [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:20 Queenofwands1212 Looking for someone to adopt this little girl. Tampa area

Looking for someone to adopt this little girl. Tampa area
Her name is gemini. I saved her off the streets when I was living in cali back in 2020. But I had to give her to my mom. My moms disabled and has had surgeries and she takes care of her incompetent husband and an entire household and a large dog so she can't handle taking care of gemini unfortunately. Anyone in tampa area open to adopting her? She's a sweetie. She just hangs out. Loves relaxing in her cat tower. She's good with other cats. My other cat died, but they were besties. She's 4 years old, and not fixed yet. Dm me if interested šŸ’œšŸ’œšŸ’œ
submitted by Queenofwands1212 to cats [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:14 banoffeetea Floral Street faves - any similar scents?

I finally tried Floral Street. The name put me off initially, as I am usually one of those people who says ā€˜I donā€™t like floralsā€™ šŸ˜… which Iā€™m not sure is strictly true.
Due to the reasonable price point and 20 per cent off, I took the plunge and blind bought three travel size scents from their collection. I did extensive research (eg deep-diving reviews on reddit) to help me choose my 3 for 2 deal and although I can see why they may not be some peopleā€™s cup of tea, I love the simplicity, freshness and easy everyday wear.
I chose: Arizona Bloom (yes, I definitely get Another 13 vibes and fresh carpet/rain smell), Electric Rhubarb (definitely getting the delicious sea salt dupe) and Sunflower Pop (pure yummy citrus-passion fruit and sunshine) and am ecstatic with all three.
I donā€™t really want to buy their discovery set (I have so many discovery sets from other houses on my wishlist whose travel sizes I canā€™t afford, still donā€™t consider myself a huge floral fan and now I own three it doesnā€™t seem worth it).
So Iā€™m asking, which are your Floral Street favourites? And based on the three I love do you have any you could recommend, please, that are similar? I am considering another 3-for-2 purchase while the spring sale is still on and curious to hear othersā€™ thoughts about which ones they enjoy and why.
Iā€™d been thinking about Wild Vanilla Orchid, Sweet Almond Blossom and either Wonderland Peony or London Poppy? But all of them sound intriguing to be honest.
I enjoy a wide variety of fruity, woody, aquatic, ambroxan, amber and gourmand scents. So I am fairly open.
submitted by banoffeetea to fragrance [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:10 Cleercutter What the fuck is up with the side gigs?

Iā€™m level 58, 50 street credit, the only story mission I have left is to meet hanako at embers.
I canā€™t progress on any of the side gigs. Wahako or whatever the hell her name is spouts the same shit about her husband in night city, the lady in the tower that has like 23 gigs, she says the same shit over and over. Mr. Hands Iā€™m stuck on 8 and it tells me to cruise around dogtown to no avail.
Am I missing something? When I do a google search I find stuff for bugs but I donā€™t see how Iā€™m supposed to progress unless all these missions are tied to the end of the game which seems off to me.
submitted by Cleercutter to cyberpunkgame [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:01 ikieneng My fanfiction - episode 4!

My fanfiction - episode 4!
The next part is here! This episode is so long that I had to split it, and today, you're finally getting part 3 of 3.
You can find the previous episodes in the side bar! (Community info page in the app)
DISCLAIMERS (the same ones as before)
The point of this fanfiction is not to be a straight-up continuation of events with the same themes, intensity, and tone. If you go into it with those expectations, you are probably not going to like it. Rather, itā€™s supposed to be how I wish things went if these events were real life. The resolution you want for a real-life situation isnā€™t often the right choice for a show, but it can be incredibly beautiful. Think of what youā€™re about to read to be a separate show then.
Episode 1 of this fanfiction begins after the episode ā€œ2:00ā€ (season 2 episode 4), so it replaces the episode ā€œCakeā€ and the ones that follow it. This fanfiction expects you to have seen the entirety of seasons 1 and 2, so you should watch those first.
I myself am bursting into the story here. The narrator and me are the same. While my character is like 95% real me, donā€™t take events about my life described here as facts. Some aspects of my life have been changed for the story. In my head, I started writing like an ā€œalternate meā€ character in 2016, fulfilling a lot of the things that I wish I had in life, adding that to my story. Iā€™m not really from Ukraine. I speak fluent Ukrainian as a foreign language, I started learning it in 2014, and Iā€™ve talked to tons of people from there, but Iā€™m not from Ukraine. I also donā€™t have as much money as I do in the story. I wish lmao.
If you want to post your own fanfiction, feel free to do so! To get your own post flair for your fanfic, and to appear in the side bar, please message me.

Part 3 (days 3 and 4)

Weā€™d wake up on day three, and still, nothing would be any different - weā€™re still locked up. Weā€™d both feel really worried not knowing if weā€™ll have to forfeit our whole plan because we might run out of food and water and take the risky route - calling the police and getting ourselves into a situation where weā€™d have to be freed by force, which would be so dangerous because the Turners have proven that thereā€™s nothing theyā€™re not prepared to do to us to ā€œget Jericho backā€. Leanne would ask me ā€œWhat do we do if we call the police, and Mrs. Turner comes up here and tries to hurt us?ā€ At first, Iā€™d insist that we start thinking about that when we do run out of food the next day, but sheā€™d insist we should come up with a plan. Iā€™d point at the corner on the edge of the attic facing Spruce Street, the corner thatā€™s to oneā€™s right when coming up into the attic,
https://preview.redd.it/knoz0zwpou1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=bd1694f292bb546ea45339ebecea7ffacfe33541
and say ā€œThen youā€™d curl up and hide over there, and Iā€™d take the radio, youā€™d take the metronome, and Iā€™d sit down in front of you, shielding you, and if she gets in here before the cops do, weā€™ll defend ourselves. And weā€™d record everything on my phone. And we should probably hide behind the sofa. Maybe then, she might not notice weā€™re still up here at first. Sheā€™d probably be in a state of panic.ā€ Sheā€™d look at me with sad, but touched eyes and just hug me and say thank you. Iā€™d reply ā€œOf courseā€. After some silence, Iā€™d tell her ā€œIf anything happens to meā€¦ Please bring me backā€.

Sheā€™d be touched by that, but say that if she reanimates me, the Church of Lesser Saints will come after ME as well because theyā€™ll believe that Iā€™ll be obligated to join. With a worried smile, Iā€™d say ā€œI know... But theyā€™re probably already gonna do that, right? Because I wonā€™t let them get to you!ā€ Weā€™d both nod with the same half-happy, half-worried expression. ā€œAnd if things go terribly wrong and you have to bring me back, we can try again!ā€

Iā€™d ask if Iā€™m getting it right that the ā€œgreat sinsā€ they think sheā€™s committing are not spending time with the Church and helping another family from the one that was assigned to her. Sheā€™d say yes and add that thereā€™s a lot more they hate her for, like her ā€œdisobedient and rebellious streakā€, disobeying their instructions, putting curses on people, and now, leaving the Marinos.
https://preview.redd.it/4obn4r9uou1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1e77adafbde221c320999ba1169adb0a1c6b2b17
After a few seconds of silence (out of shock that this is how the Church of Lesser Saints frames it), Iā€™d be like ā€œIf you disobey so many of their instructions, then...ā€, look her directly in the eyes, and go ā€œGood! Keep on disobeying them! Iā€™m actually kind of stunned that this is how they frame your actions, because that is so manipulative. Wanting to have a life where you donā€™t have to worry about your every step being watched and controlled, where you can actually freely explore what you believe ā€“ not what they tell you to believe, but what YOU believe, where you can do totally normal human things like listen to music, and where you can go wherever you want and make some basic decisions for yourself and work wherever you want, that doesnā€™t make you...ā€ (doing the ā€œquote-on-quoteā€ with my hands while I say it) ā€œquote-on-quote ā€˜disobedientā€™ or ā€˜rebelliousā€™, it makes you a normal human being. If they forbid every little thing that people do that makes you happy, if you then look for happiness elsewhere, thatā€™s on them. You canā€™t take every bit of joy away from people and then expect them to just deal with it. You wanting to run away, thatā€™s the logical result of their bullshit. And you didnā€™t ā€˜leaveā€™ the Marinos, you were taken. Donā€™t let them think youā€™re at fault in any way!ā€ She might have never heard any verbal confirmation before that her feelings about leaving are valid, and this would be so reassuring to her. Sheā€™d tell me that whenever she did things like not be there for meals at the Church, skip assemblies, or curse people without permission, she would be brought before May and the rest of the community, get questioned about her behavior, and sheā€™d have to self-flagellate to receive forgiveness.
https://preview.redd.it/roex7c20pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=32cecf94a41a97e66b1c74967cb074ca89321777
Iā€™d go really still and quiet when she mentions the self-flagellation, which sheā€™d then explain is a frequent punishment. That would freaking break my heart... Iā€™d ask her when was the last time she hurt herself, and it was a little less than two weeks ago, before she was forced to leave the Turners. Very carefully and quietly, Iā€™d ask her if it would be okay if she can show me her scars and add ā€œYou do NOT have to if youā€™re not comfortable, PLEASE donā€™t do it if youā€™re notā€, and after a second, sheā€™d nod and show me her back. My heart would break for her even more seeing her scars, Iā€™d just express how horrible it is that they made her do thatā€¦ Iā€™d show her some of my cut wounds from when I self-harmed, which I hadnā€™t done in like three and a half years at that point. Iā€™d want her to know that way that I get the urge, that I really do, but Iā€™d tell her that hurting oneself achieves nothing. All it does is make you feel horrible mentally and physically, and every time you do it, thereā€™s a risk of infection and even death. Iā€™d just tell her I understand while taking her in my arms. Iā€™d ask her to please look me in the eyes and tell me she wonā€™t hurt herself again, and that when she feels like doing it again, to please talk to me first. Sheā€™d quietly say ā€œI promiseā€ while looking me in the eyes, and after some longer embraces, weā€™d both smile a bit, that would make me really happy to hear! Iā€™d ask that when weā€™re out of here, if we can call a doctor sometime soon and get them to look at her scars to make sure none of them are infected, if sheā€™s comfortable enough, and sheā€™d nod and smile at me a little bit some more.

Weā€™d eat after that. Weā€™d run out of tomato soup that meal, and Iā€™d tell her that when weā€™re getting out of there, Iā€™d get her all the tomato soup in the world! ā€œWeā€™re gonna fill a whole hotel fridge with tomato soup!ā€ ā€œAnd with Ben & Jerryā€™s?ā€, sheā€™d ask, and Iā€™d say yes and say that weā€™re probably gonna need more than one fridge. Iā€™d say weā€™re gonna pick the nicest and most expensive hotel to stay at, an idea that sheā€™d love! ā€œYou still think Allentown is a good idea?ā€, Iā€™d ask her, and sheā€™d think my reasoning from the day before makes sense and say yes. Weā€™d look for the nicest hotel in Allentown online and see that there are ā€œonlyā€ three-star hotels in Allentown. Leanne would ask if getting such an expensive place to stay is really okay, and Iā€™d say ā€œMoney is not an issue, donā€™t worry about itā€ while reaching across her back and like caressing her right shoulder, looking her in the eyes, and smiling. ā€œAnd besides, letā€™s spoil you, you fucking deserve it after all this!ā€ We wouldnā€™t book anything yet because we wouldnā€™t know when we can get out of there yet, but looking at all those insanely nice hotels would lift our spirits a bit.

After eating the first half of that dayā€™s rations (only two half dayā€™s rations would be left after thatā€¦), weā€™d think that it would probably be a good idea if we started writing the document for the police right now. Writing it can take hours upon hours, and thereā€™s no point in delaying the rescue to write the document after I leave if we can do it right now, so weā€™d begin right that moment. It would begin something like ā€œMy name is Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999 in Odesa, Ukraine, residing in 501 Pembroke Ave, Philadelphia 19050, Pennsylvania...ā€ (I donā€™t live there. I have no idea who does. Please leave them alone lmao) ā€œ...I sent this statement to my Facebook friend Liam [...] (residing in Tipperary, Ireland, using Facebook as Liam [...]) as a PDF file and told him to call the Philadelphia police and read this statement to them if I donā€™t come back online and confirm that Iā€™m okay by 10 PM Philadelphia time / 3 PM London, UK time on December 22, 2022. If he is reading this to you, it probably means that there was no sign of life from me by that time, and that Iā€™m not safe, probably kidnapped and locked up by Dorothy Turner, Sean Turner, Julian (Iā€™m not sure about his surname, but Iā€™m referring to Dorothy Turnerā€™s brother - redhead, not very tall, moderately overweight) in the attic of their residence at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvaniaā€, and then document everything Iā€™ve seen in chronological order and everything that Leanne has told me, with a link to our video and photographic evidence, references to DNA evidence that can probably be found in the hole in the basement if they havenā€™t covered it up by now, and a statement at the end saying that Iā€™ve written it together with Leanne to make sure that everything is correct. That would take a really long time, hours for sure. But when itā€™s done, Iā€™d run spell- and grammar checks on it and send it to my printer at home, to be queued for printing when I get home and turn it on. Weā€™d also know that today (December 21) or tomorrow will be the day when we leave one way or another, so Iā€™d schedule a text message to 911 in 30 hours from that moment. The message would say ā€œThis is a scheduled message. If youā€™ve received it, then Leanne Grayson (born October 13, 2001)...ā€ (We only ever learn Leanneā€™s birth year from the gravestone. October 13 is Nell Tiger Freeā€™s birthday, so October 13, 2001 being Leanneā€™s birthday is kind of my headcanon)
https://preview.redd.it/0hr9niq1pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=4dbead2015781ed8beee236188b8273aac1b3fb0
ā€œ...and me (Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999) are probably not safe, abducted and locked up against our will by Dorothy Turner, her brother Julian, and Sean Turner in the attic of their house at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvania or somewhere else on the property. We need help immediately. The Turners should be considered dangerous and very clearly willing to use violence and intimidation. We need help NOW. Details in our prepared statement: [the link]ā€. Because weā€™re holding out hope that we wonā€™t have to call the police from inside the attic, the document would include information on what our plan is to get Leanne (and me) out of there as safely as possible and call the police from the taxi, but that if we run out of rations, we wonā€™t have a choice but to call the police while weā€™re unarmed and while the Turners still have the upper hand.

We would debate whether we should include information about the Church of Lesser Saints right away or tell the police about them later because we know how that sounds, considering that this would hurt the credibility of our testimony,
https://preview.redd.it/sinvabf3pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=e37811b53eb90cb8a066bfcb30f6244bb9f34ad4
but weā€™d modify the document and include the most important information about them as well, with more believable explanations - how they forced Leanne and other members to self-harm (meaning that current members or those who recently left), where theyā€™re currently operating from in Lancaster,
https://preview.redd.it/mxbm8445pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1f9b5f1c671c15afce7149eeb90926c2c29b9bdb
that they faked their deaths, that they forced Leanne to leave the Turners, and the necessary lie that they took the real baby, and that Leanne hasnā€™t seen it since that day and doesnā€™t know where theyā€™ve taken it. Weā€™d also include names and stuff, and most importantly, reference the baptism tape and say that it shows May and George watching us from the sidewalk outside the church less than three weeks ago, and that piece of evidence would change everything in regards to investigating the Church of Lesser Saints and make the police believe us. Weā€™d add that itā€™s probably among the other DVDs in the Turnersā€™ living room, and that Iā€™ll try to get it when leaving the building if our original plan is still going to be an option, rip the DVD at home, and add a link to the video file to the document. Weā€™d modify the scheduled text message as well, and weā€™d charge both phones, mine first because the scheduled message is so important, but itā€™s an iPhone, so we could charge it to 100% rather quickly and then charge hers. And weā€™d add that weā€™d want the police to get Leanneā€™s things from the Marino estate. All her stuff being there would be further evidence that she was taken suddenly and against her will. Weā€™d also add what number Leanne can be reached at for now with the Samsung Galaxy phone. And then, Iā€™d send the document to Liam on all platforms where I know how to reach him, followed by a message to alert the authorities if Iā€™m not back online confirming that weā€™re both okay in whatā€™s now probably more like 29 hours, the phone number of the Philadelphia police, and caps at the beginning saying that itā€™s an actual emergency.

Out of nowhere, Iā€™d ask her if sheā€™s seen ā€œTitanicā€ lmao, and with her near total isolation growing up, she wouldnā€™t have seen it. ā€œIā€™ve only seen movies on TVā€. Iā€™d be like ā€œI can show you lots of movies if you want! I got several subscriptions to streaming services, and also a bunch of stuff offline on an external drive at home.ā€
https://preview.redd.it/lr58woa7pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=63537b149270faeebb2c3f1be9ba2af0d259e1b7
Back on talking about ā€œTitanicā€, Iā€™d tell her itā€™s wonderful and so freaking romantic, albeit over-the-top at times for sure and a bit overrated. It has that glossy feeling and some superficial characters to it that all James Cameron movies have, but itā€™s still really wonderful. After explaining the plot to her (since sheā€™s grown up so isolated), Iā€™d tell her about one scene that Iā€™m thinking about a lot from time to time - near the end of the movie, when old Rose is done telling the researchers her story, she says that she doesnā€™t even have a picture of Jack, and that has hit me so hard from the first time Iā€™ve seen the movie.
https://preview.redd.it/96bgw8s8pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=476c1a4cbee498c26a0be4651ef83258f0aa7748
She has no physical memories of him, she can never see his face again, and she can never show people what he looked like. That just rips my heart. Iā€™d ask Leanne if we can take some pictures together. Weā€™d look pretty horrible because we havenā€™t been able to shower in days, but we wouldnā€™t care and take them anyway and really, genuinely smile so hard. Iā€™d send them to her email address (leanne_grayson@icloud.com, that email address is on her resume in the show),
https://preview.redd.it/frfz9e7apu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1b65065ab622e71f52edc6e9b84a2974e7efe9cb
manually sync my gallery with iCloud, and Iā€™d send them to Liam. Iā€™d ask what phone she got back at the Marinosā€™ and if sheā€™s got any pictures of herself in her iCloud gallery, but sheā€™d tell me sheā€™s rarely ever taken pictures of herself, only for the resume she applied at the Turnersā€™ for, and Iā€™d be like ā€œWhaaaaat? But youā€™re so beautiful!ā€, and sheā€™d smile hard, a bit embarrassed. Iā€™d look her straight in the eyes and say it again and say that I mean it for real, she is so incredibly beautiful! Itā€™s probably so rare that anyoneā€™s ever said that to her in her entire life (her mother definitely didnā€™t, and given that the Church of Lesser Saints believes that anything that feels good is dangerous,
https://preview.redd.it/msylzejbpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=b343bf8d10b86f7c731eed3c8a5204460daec4d4
itā€™s rather unlikely that they did), Tobe saying it in ā€œBalloonā€ might even have been the only time everā€¦
https://preview.redd.it/jdce6tndpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=c9edaacd72634c3dbe7dbf29abcc84f2412a10d4
Iā€™d then add ā€œInside AND out!ā€, and sheā€™d smile some more in a bit of embarrassment and then look me in the eyes and say ā€œYou, too, Daria!ā€, and as youā€™d expect, Iā€™d smile so hard and even with my eyes!

It would be rather late by then, so weā€™d eat and listen to some more music together from the Spotify playlist I created for her and talk so much about what weā€™re hearing.

After dinner, sheā€™d bring the topic up on her own (this is kind of making fun of these fan theories) - sheā€™d tell me that some in the Church of Lesser Saints think sheā€™s the Devil or Lilith because of her rebelliousness, and how sheā€™s inspired doubt in some people in the Church. Iā€™d make such a weirded-out face. After realizing sheā€™s serious, Iā€™d say ā€œIf you are the Devil, then hail Satan! Like, seriously, if YOU are what God is threatening will happen if we donā€™t follow him, then thatā€™s literally the weakest threat Iā€™ve ever heard of. Then God is the villain here. We need more people like you in the world!ā€ Shy as she still is, sheā€™d still be almost embarrassed to hear this (sheā€™s so not used to compliments), and Iā€™d make it clear Iā€™m serious, that I really think sheā€™s fricking wonderful and the sweetest, and that she clearly has a huge heart full of so much love, and that she deserves so much better than what sheā€™s ever experienced! Almost in denial, sheā€™d see in my eyes that I really mean it and just smile and hug me, and then, weā€™d both smile even more! Iā€™d rub her back a lot in that moment and promise her again that everything will be okay. ā€œIā€™ll make sure of that!ā€

After some more music together, knowing that tomorrow will be the day we leave, no matter which plan weā€™ll go with, weā€™d make sure we havenā€™t forgotten anything. Looking around, Iā€™d realize I have to give her my earphones with a cord because the internal mic of my Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini is essentially useless. Iā€™d tell her that when I call her the next day to tell her itā€™s safe to come downstairs now, she should answer the call, plug in the earphones, and then, it will take a few seconds until I can hear her, but then, it should be fine. Weā€™d set a code phrase that Iā€™ll mention to let her know if the Turners got me and itā€™s NOT safe to come down. Sheā€™d suggest ā€œtomato soupā€, and Iā€™d smile and say yes, thatā€™s gonna be our code phrase. ā€œAnd if it IS safe to come down?ā€, sheā€™d ask, and Iā€™d suggest ā€œice creamā€.

Iā€™d realize that we should probably find her fresh clothes in the attic and a coat right now, so as I said, itā€™s not too obvious that sheā€™s been locked up for a long time the second she walks out of the door, because if sheā€™s in dirty clothes or nightwear, with it being obvious that she hasnā€™t showered in days, and I get her out of there and into a taxi to drive off while I got a gun, it would look as if I was kidnapping her, so weā€™d find her a nice dress and coat up there, and Iā€™d turn around and close my eyes while she puts it on, and when sheā€™s done, Iā€™d tell her again that she looks amazing! šŸ˜Š
https://preview.redd.it/zp5gbjwfpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=777d2120f72b5002e2d5e5e9ffe4760ab2d5fada
And sheā€™d smile and thank me this time, sort of the way she says it to the makeup artist at the street fair in S3E5 ā€œTigerā€ in that typical way of hers thatā€™s so adorable for real,
https://preview.redd.it/fuu6x7ohpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=ec5f23b8de4568996bd6e4c706ab4f95b8f98063
and sheā€™d look in my direction and say ā€œYou look really beautiful, too!ā€, really shy, before peeking me in the eyes for a moment, and weā€™d just look at each other for a moment. ā€œCan I have your pictures?ā€, sheā€™d ask me, and Iā€™d say yeah, open my iPhone, and select ALL pictures of myself in my gallery and send them to her email address, and send her those that are too large via a Google Drive link (iCloud isnā€™t great for sharing files lol), and then, Iā€™d take her Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini, download them all (which would take a while because that phone is ancient), and set one of the pictures weā€™ve taken together as her wallpaper, and then set it as my wallpaper on my iPhone as well! šŸ˜Š

Weā€™d consider if thereā€™s anything else weā€™ve missed. Sheā€™d mention that parts of the floor screech, especially one tile, so when I sneak out, I gotta be careful on the stairs, especially with that one tile.
https://preview.redd.it/nijqz08jpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=6f6756ae6c304a5f5133c21ef857e0f91c6c91d7
After a few seconds, sheā€™d ask me if we wanna book a hotel now, and Iā€™d smile and say sure! ā€œDid you like any hotels in particular, out of the ones we looked at?ā€ Sheā€™d say ā€œThe one with the big jacuzzi looks greatā€ with big eyes and enthusiasm in her voice, like she does during some of her conversations with Tobe in S3E5 ā€œTigerā€. ā€œYouā€™ve ever been in a jacuzzi?ā€, Iā€™d ask her, and sheā€™d go ā€œNooo, but I wanna try!ā€ in the same tone,
https://preview.redd.it/6rh2p63lpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=987a19161b85fe5ee6a500f452c168ba7dec961b
and so, after lying down now, weā€™d look up which hotel she was talking about and book a two-room suite in that hotel in Allentown for three weeks. Iā€™d add ā€œSo we can easily look out for each other, and so youā€™ll also have some privacy.ā€, and sheā€™d smile and nod, that consideration would probably mean a lot to her.

Weā€™d then get ready for bed. For the next day, Iā€™d get some better clothes as well and put them on while sheā€™s turned around with her eyes closed. Iā€™d take the last ration of food out of my backpack, put the clothes I just took off at the bottom of it, above Leanneā€™s Bible (the porcelain baby and card are already in one of the other pockets), and put my phone and the chargers in another pocket. Iā€™d look around and ask her if thereā€™s anything else I should take with me to safeguard, and at first, sheā€™d also look around because she wouldnā€™t know how to answer right away, but sheā€™d then point at Mrs. Barrington with her face,
https://preview.redd.it/amqsh2mmpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=12d0bfe376210a8798671d45f31e96e28037870b
and Iā€™d be like ā€œWell, I think sheā€™s a little too big for my backpack, but I can talk to the police when weā€™re out of here, maybe we can try to get her!ā€, and Leanne would nod with a big smile again.

Weā€™d lie down on the mattress and share the covers again. Just like the night before, Iā€™d lie down on the side of the mattress thatā€™s closer to the stairs, in case Dorothy changes her mind and tries to assault Leanne againā€¦ On the mattress, sheā€™d suddenly hug me really tight, break into tears, and thank me over and over again, and Iā€™d just hold her tight, say ā€œOf courseā€, and assure her that everythingā€™s gonna be okay, that weā€™ll get out of there tomorrow. Iā€™d wipe some of her tears off her face šŸ„ŗ On the mattress, weā€™d just look each other in the eyes and both just smile more and more, and after a minute or two, sheā€™d kiss me on the lips for a tiiiiny moment and then, weā€™d just smile at each other even harder! Sheā€™d say ā€œIā€™m not supposed to do thatā€ while still smiling just as hard and looking me directly in the eyes! ā€œSays who?ā€, Iā€™d reply. She goes ā€œMy aunts and unclesā€, and Iā€™d say ā€œI donā€™t think theyā€™re a reliable source!ā€, and weā€™d kiss each other some more and longer, and both feel each otherā€™s smile on our lips, and peek at each other a few times in between šŸ˜ŠšŸ„°ā¤ļø Weā€™d both put our arms around each other before telling each other good night and before I promise her one more time itā€™s all going to be okay!
https://preview.redd.it/08fqmdqspu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=477498f6f3e6260f2a0429defebf98475b14eda1
At some point during the night, sheā€™d wake me up, and when she does, Iā€™d realize I had a nightmare, like, not from my night terrors, and sheā€™d tell me I had a nightmare, that I was sniffling in my sleep, and that I told her two days earlier to wake me up if this happens. Still feeling terrible (the feeling of immediate dread always takes a while to subside for me), Iā€™d thank her. Iā€™d ask what I was saying, and sheā€™d say that I wasnā€™t speaking English. Iā€™d consider if I should tell her for a moment, but then, Iā€™d take a deep breath, look up for a second, and with a heavy voice, slowly say ā€œWhat if we try plan A tomorrow, and I fail? Iā€™m scaredā€¦ I donā€™t wanna mess this upā€¦ I donā€™t wanna fail youā€¦ā€ And sheā€™d slowly look at me and just say two words: ā€œYou havenā€™t!ā€ Iā€™d look at her and almost laugh a bit out of joy. Iā€™d smile and just cuddle up to her a bit, and sheā€™d do it back. Iā€™d say Iā€™ll try to listen to music for a while to calm down because doing something else makes it much easier for me to zone out of the feeling of dread again. ā€œWhy only you?ā€, sheā€™d ask. ā€œI donā€™t wanna keep you awakeā€, Iā€™d say, ā€œYou need the sleepā€, and sheā€™d say ā€œItā€™s okayā€ and just smile a bit, and so, weā€™d listen to some music together for about half an hour.

Iā€™d tell her that my sleep is so horrible (sheā€™d say she can tell) because I donā€™t have my meds, and Iā€™m really fricking looking forward to taking them again. Without them, the quality of my sleep is terrible, and it takes so long for me to fall asleep at all if I donā€™t take them. Sheā€™d ask if Iā€™ve taken them for a long time, and Iā€™d say that I havenā€™t taken these particular meds for long because whatever I take, my body builds up some resistance to them pretty quickly, so after a while, I always have to get new ones, but Iā€™ve taken sleeping meds for years now. ā€œIt sounds like theyā€™re really helping you, right?ā€, sheā€™d ask, and Iā€™d nod and say ā€œYeah, they really do. Iā€™m also taking antidepressants, and they were an absolute gamechanger for me. Itā€™s okay if I donā€™t take them for a few days because they donā€™t work in the moment, but they like rewire your brain over time, and theyā€™re the best thing thatā€™s ever happened to my mental health. Before I started taking them, it was so hard for me to avoid bad thoughts or resist them, like, it was hell, but ever since then, it got sooo much easier, and not letting things get to me or not letting bad things really take over me is just so much easier now.ā€ After a while, Iā€™d say ā€œI was at a psychiatric clinic voluntarily for six months, but I also had nowhere else to go, and the doctors and employees really abused their power. They only intervened when there was physical violence, they didnā€™t intervene in any other conflicts, so because of them, the patients constantly bullied each other. My doctor switched to another department while I was there, so I got a new one, and the new one wasnā€™t perfect, but at least, she cared. I got really lucky to get a place at a living group for mentally ill people, which was when I could finally leave. But honestly, all my experiences with mental health professionals since then have been better. I went to a different clinic for four or five days voluntarily in 2019, and even they were far better. ā€œThat sounds scaryā€¦ā€, sheā€™d say. Iā€™d reply ā€œIt was. But things got much better after that. I had lots of setbacks, like, you know, but if you get help, itā€™s always better.ā€

After the current songā€™s over, weā€™d lie down to try and sleep again. Weā€™d smile at each other again in bed, and Iā€™d give her a short-ish kiss before saying good night, and weā€™d both smile even harder after that šŸ˜ And we would fall asleep for good after a while (it would still take me longer than her).

In the morning, Leanne would wake me up again. Sheā€™d show me that the door is unlocked and open by a little bit now (theyā€™re ā€œlettingā€ her out for a few hoursā€¦),
https://preview.redd.it/sqql9udupu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=b2505bc6f7795639777433a1897f0d31e5753d67
and weā€™d both just embrace and chuckle in huge joy, as we can go with plan A now, the less risky one! Weā€™d remember to quiet down after a few seconds and whisper from then on out. Iā€™d go to the toilet roll, take eight pieces, rip them into two bands of four pieces each, and roll each of them up into a little bunch. Iā€™d give them to her and tell her to put them into the wall pieces of the door when she gets out (so it looks like the door is closed while it canā€™t actually lock) and give me an audible signal when the third floor is clear, so Iā€™ll get out with my backpack, take out the toilet paper, and hide in her room.
https://preview.redd.it/bzze2o6wpu1d1.png?width=304&format=png&auto=webp&s=aaa155b611408db6e9960485f6f726125fc2698d
ā€œIs there anything you want me to get from there?ā€, Iā€™d ask. ā€œNo. Everything is here or at the Marinosā€™.ā€ Iā€™d go ā€œOkayā€ and move on - since Iā€™m almost definitely unable to come down to the second floor right away (Iā€™m using American English in all of these episodes. ā€œFirst floorā€ in American English = ā€œground floorā€ in British English; ā€œSecond floorā€ in American English = ā€œfirst floorā€ in British English; ā€œThird floorā€ in American English = ā€œsecond floorā€ in British English, etc.), sheā€™d give me a signal when coming back upstairs. Weā€™d agree that when she comes back upstairs, if itā€™s safe to go to the second floor, sheā€™d shout something, maybe in conversation, maybe some sort of cry, doesnā€™t matter, and if not, sheā€™d kick something. Sheā€™d be locked upstairs again after that, so Iā€™ll have to tell when to get further downstairs myself, which Iā€™d do as soon as Iā€™ve heard absolutely no sounds from inside the house for at least a few minutes. On the first floor, Iā€™d get the DVD from March 11, 2001, and if the baptism tape isnā€™t clearly labeled among the tapes, Iā€™d unplug the DVD player from the TV, turn on the player, open the DVD slot, and if the tape isnā€™t in there, Iā€™d take all unlabeled tapes. Iā€™d then listen in on the basement door for a few seconds, and if I hear no sounds from down there, Iā€™d quietly open the basement door and go downstairs, and if no oneā€™s there, Iā€™d get out through the side entrance down there, out through the back gate, walk back to Spruce Street, drive my bike home, take a shower, watch the tape from March 11, 2011 like she told me I could, hide it somewhere at home, print out the document for the police, take it with me in an envelope, print out a second version of it to give to the taxi driver, so I can say ā€œIf Iā€™m not back in an hour, please call the police for me and read this to themā€. Iā€™d then call a taxi (a taxi with a large trunk whose driver is allowed to drive to Allentown and back), load my gun, and leave for the Turnersā€™ and get Leanne.

Weā€™d see that Liam has replied by now. Of course, heā€™d be super worried, but heā€™s got our backs for the plan, and that would be really reassuring. Weā€™d look each other in the eyes, and then, Iā€™d hug her sooo tight for several seconds, and weā€™d have one loooong kiss (hoping itā€™s not the last time we see each otherā€¦) before she goes downstairs while looking back at me on the way before putting the toilet paper in the door. Iā€™d then put on my backpack. Once Leanne loudly shouts ā€œMister Turner?ā€, that would be my signal, and Iā€™d hide in her room for about 45 minutes before sheā€™s ā€œletā€ back upstairs and shouts ā€œYou can lock me in now, Mrs. Turnerā€,
https://preview.redd.it/uy9loclypu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=16abd51170405f1ef3123ff22f4559642a0c0c92
which is when Iā€™d sneak into the storage/guest room and wait. It would take like five hours until I hear nothing for a while, which is when Iā€™d sneak onto the first floor, look around to make extra sure no oneā€™s there, and go to the living room. Iā€™d get the tape from March 11, 2011, and the baptism tape would be among the labeled DVDs, and Iā€™d put it into the box of the March 11, 2011 tape (Iā€™d put the original DVD loose in there and use the spot inside the box for the baptism tape because itā€™s probably more important. I then wouldnā€™t hear anything from the basement, so Iā€™d slowly and quietly go down there. No one would be there, so Iā€™d leave as planned and go home and take a shower. Iā€™d watch the March 11, 2011 DVD. Iā€™d be surprised to see the interaction between Leanne and Dorothy for sure, but sort of knowing her, I wouldnā€™t think anything bad of it. Iā€™d actually get it because of my past celebrity crushes (which I know isnā€™t what she was feeling for Dorothy) and the desire to meet them, especially with Blanche. Iā€™d get why Leanne wouldnā€™t want the police to see it, it would look bad for her. Iā€™d wrap up the DVD in a thick piece of paper and tape it to the back of my closet, between the closet and the wall. Iā€™d burn the piece of paper in the DVD case in my bathtub with a bucket of water next to me just in case. Iā€™d test if the DVD of the baptism tape still works (it does), rip it, upload the video file to Google Drive, add it to the document for the police, cancel my printing queue, print the document (two versions of it. The one for the taxi driver would just have a short introduction at the beginning, like, that Iā€™m the person who ordered the taxi), order the taxi, pack my things for the next couple of weeks and anything that Leanne might need, so Iā€™d include any clothes that I think could fit her, and go to the taxi. Iā€™d tell the driver to get me one block away from 9780 Spruce Street (which isnā€™t actually a real address, by the way) and wait there for me. Before leaving for the Turner house, Iā€™d give him the envelope with his version of the letter for the police and tell him what I said I would tell him. Iā€™d then get my backpack with the gun in it from my luggage in the trunk, and walk to the Turnersā€™ house.

I have already "written" so much more in my head, but I've now reached the end of what I've actually written down, so it will take longer until the next episode is out now! Hope you've enjooooyed this one!
submitted by ikieneng to teamleanne [link] [comments]


2024.05.22 00:01 Gossip-Luv2 Retrieved the content of Tweets on SLB's eccentricities - The Mythmakerā€™s Legacy - Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, I am the Greatest of Them All!

Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ā€˜The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.ā€™
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
ā€˜Howā€™s it going with Bhansu?ā€™ Sweta asked.
ā€˜We are not working together anymore,ā€™ I said.
ā€˜Whaaaaaaaat?ā€™ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
ā€˜Whyyyyy?ā€™ they cried, collectively anguished.
ā€˜He said he is not feeling the vibes.ā€™
ā€˜What?ā€™
ā€˜Vibes,ā€™ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
ā€˜What vibes?ā€™ Sweta jibed, ā€˜Maybe he canā€™t feel the vibrator.ā€™
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DMā€™d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
ā€œThey will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,ā€ he said, ā€œLike Hollywood.ā€
ā€œThis is Bhansaliwood,ā€ I said, ā€œYahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.ā€
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ā€˜preparedā€™ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:
Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Neneā€™s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ā€˜Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,ā€™ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ā€˜preparedā€™ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkarā€™s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohanā€™s doleful rendition of ā€˜Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.ā€™ (Side effect of writing this on Motherā€™s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. Whatā€™s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, ā€œI want puranpoli today.ā€
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesnā€™t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLBā€™s plate at the speed of light.
ā€˜Give him some,ā€™ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
ā€˜Iā€™ve had lunch, thank you,ā€™ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
ā€˜One should not waste food,ā€™ he said.
ā€˜I donā€™t,ā€™ I said, ā€˜I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.ā€™
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff ā€” allergic to undesired petting and attention.
ā€˜So, what have you done?ā€™ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
ā€˜A novel, some writing for a series,ā€™ I said nervously, dismissively.
ā€˜Anything I might have seen?ā€™ he asked.
ā€˜No, not worthwhile.ā€™
ā€˜Are you interested in direction also?ā€™
ā€˜No, am not delusional.ā€™
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
ā€˜I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,ā€™ I said. Lā€™esprit de lā€™escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
ā€˜What are you writing now?ā€™
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
ā€˜Oh, this is so fascinating,ā€™ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcuttaā€™s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. Heā€™s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ā€˜outsiderā€™.
ā€˜But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?ā€™ he said, ā€˜I am a maa-ka-bhakt.ā€™
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
ā€˜Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.ā€™
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
ā€˜If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,ā€™ he said. ā€˜Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.ā€™
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writerā€™s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my motherā€™s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DMā€™d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ā€˜What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.ā€™
I told her Iā€™d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhattā€™s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
ā€œItā€™s a shot that I will take to my grave. If thereā€™s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.ā€
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadnā€™t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. Thatā€™s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
ā€˜Go wash your face and come back,ā€™ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
ā€˜Dastavez,ā€™ SLB said, ā€˜would that be correct to use?ā€™
ā€˜Kaaghzaat,ā€™ the minion replied.
ā€˜Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,ā€™ said the second minion.
ā€˜You always mislead me,ā€™ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ā€˜Donā€™t ever do that again.ā€™
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ā€˜No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.ā€™
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ā€˜current plagueā€™ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasnā€™t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friendā€™s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ā€˜I donā€™t think I will last a week there.ā€™
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ā€˜geniusā€™ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ā€˜thick hideā€™ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasnā€™t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldnā€™t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ā€˜chachaā€™sā€™ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
ā€˜What am I supposed to say if he asks?ā€™
ā€˜Make up something,ā€™ I was told.
ā€˜Why should I?ā€™
ā€˜You will slowly understand,ā€™ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didnā€™t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ā€˜sirā€™ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ā€˜new energyā€™ to rekindle the ā€˜old energyā€™ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the godā€™s chamber aka the Shahenshahā€™s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a characterā€™s resolve. He denied it was written. I said thatā€™s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
ā€˜What changes do you suggest?ā€™ he asked.
ā€˜We should sit on it collectively and decide,ā€™ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ā€˜We all walk on eggshells around him.ā€™ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ā€˜Thatā€™s not how art is made.ā€™ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelliā€™s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, letā€™s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
ā€œNothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And donā€™t bother concealing your thievery ā€” celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: ā€œItā€™s not where you take things from ā€” itā€™s where you take them to.ā€
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a masterā€™s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didnā€™t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroffā€™s ā€˜Bacchi ho kya,ā€™ dialogue comes to mind.
ā€˜You are talking like those critics who find fault but donā€™t know how to write. They should write the film,ā€™ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writerā€™s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ā€˜From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,ā€™ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasnā€™t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box ā€“office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didnā€™t care for that. He was assisting ā€˜sirā€™ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself donā€™t use my Muslim surname. Iā€™ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. Thatā€™s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ā€˜He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.ā€™ I didnā€™t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ā€˜When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.ā€™
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasnā€™t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmakerā€™s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ā€˜kachraā€™ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. ā€œHe is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,ā€ he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldnā€™t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLBā€™s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.
Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friendā€™s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ā€˜This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.ā€™
ā€˜Are you sure?ā€™ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
ā€˜Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. Iā€™ll get him to read it.ā€™
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my motherā€™s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said itā€™s not working out.
Thereā€™s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. Youā€™ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadnā€™t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
ā€˜Great,ā€™ I said, ā€˜everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.ā€™
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLBā€™s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ā€˜Iā€™ve heard he is very anal, is he?ā€™
The vibrator jokes never stop.
submitted by Gossip-Luv2 to BollyBlindsNGossip [link] [comments]


http://rodzice.org/