I am so happy to find this sub. It's been 11 years since I rebeled against this cult. For the longest time I use to think I was the only 'Out of line' since none of my IRL bohra friends relate to me. This is my story about how I became an atheist.
Let me tell you the first incident when I was first called a 'Dawat no Dushman'. I was in 8th grade, it was a normal day in madrasa. Our maulima was talking about how we should not consume alcohol and went a step ahead and said "Even looking at the liquor shop was a great sin". Now at this point I was quite innocent and had just discovered how fun rebelling is. So I told my maulima that this rule is quite stupid since there are so many liquor store on the road and it's not possible to not glance at them.
Now at this point that dumb bitch of a maulima could have just explained that she did not mean it literally and was a metaphor for "looking at the liquor shop with intent to buy it". But NO, she went bat shit crazy and told me to stop questioning maula. She scolded me in front of all my friends for pointing out a rational innocent remark. She went ahead and complained to my parents about my behaviour and told them "discipline him or he will become like those dawat na dushman".
After this point everything started to go down hill. I was among the toppers in the madrasa. My parents use to dream of sending me to jamea. I had even memorized the complete 30th sipara by 7th grade. But this incident sparked the fire of rebellion in me (There were a few more things that acted fuel). I never stopped asking questions to my parents. I had completly stopped doing namaz. I use to pretend doing namaz in the other room because my mother would still insist I pray. I use to count seconds in my head equivalent to the seconds it took for me to recite the duas in each namaz as an act of rebellion. Just pretending to read Qur'an and occasionally turning the pages, just staring at them while being lost in my daydreams.
By 10th grade I was barely passing the final madrasa exams. I had started reading about atheism on Facebook pages. Started to talk to my hindu friends about my thoughts and luckily they related to me. Would talk about how the whole concept of a god was stupid. A year later I openly told my parents that I don't believe in their religion. But, I had fallen into a complete existential crisis as I had to idea what to believe and the purpose of life and all. Nor was my mom accepting the fact that her bright child was on the exact path the maulima had warned them about. I had shared my thoughts with some of my bohra friends thinking they might understand my point. But those motherfuckers went ahead and spilled all the beans to their parents and the jamat. People from the jamat would come and try to talk sense into me. None of them simpletons were able to convince me. After this I stopped going to masjid expect for lailatul qadar, Eid and 10th of Muharram because my mom really insisted me to. That's the only time I would be forced to meet my traitor friends cause I had to sit in the thal with them. One of them even said "Aaje dawedar aayo che", which really hurt but I laughed it off.
After a year or two of misery and depression, I finally started to embrace the fact that there is no purpose to life and it was up to me to give purpose to it. My parents finally accepted what I was and stopped insisting me. They are still very good and active bohras. There even came a period where I tried to make them understand my point of view and make them like me. But then I realised that there was convincing them. And even if I convinced them there was nothing good achieved. They would loose their identity and purpose in life, loose all of their friends and become an outcast. Would be miserable life for them. They are much better of living a blissfully ignorant life.
Somehow that maulima's prophecy did become right. Ironic how her efforts to keep me in line became the seeds of what I am today. A self fulfilling prophesy.
It's been 11 years now since and I have fully embraced my atheism, found meaning in my many hobbies, meaningful friendship, managed to get into one of the top MBA colleges. Even explored other religions with help of my friends just out of curiosity. Visited temples and churches all over india and realised other religions have such a rich and vibrant culture.
But through out my journey I must admit that tho I do not agree with this cult, there are few redeemable qualities. The 'Thali' is something that I find really helpful to an average mumin (Atleast where I live). There is also a great sense of community. I totally agree that the kothar in entirety should be overthrown, but an average bohra is still a very decent human being with a lot of idealistic characteristics like integrity, honesty, humble, hardworking, etc.
I would love to hear your stories about how your first spark was ignited and how it turned into a fire. Thanks for your time.

I've created a tiered list of PSVR2 that I will be trying to keep up to date as much as possible. The latest version of the list is here:
https://www.reddit.com/PSVcomments/19dddj1/new_players_be_like/
This post is to describe the tier system used in that list and to get feedback about this tier system and improvements that could be made.
To explain the tiers first I want to describe three pillars of game quality:
Pillars of Game Quality
Gameplay - This is describes how much fun a game is. It includes how well designed the controls are, how creative and interesting the concept is and generally how enjoyable it is to play.
Presentation - This is the production values, the graphics, art style, audio design and quality, voices, motion captuere and acting, haptics and everything else that makes a game a showcase for the senses.
Depth - This is about quantity, how much content is in the game or replay value in the design. Does the gameplay have a progression that makes you want to see more, are there levels you can explore, does the length of the campaign fit the cost of the game?
The Plus (+) Modifier - This is just to separate the most outstanding games of tiers A and B where there are quit a lot of games now.
Explanation of the Tiers
Tier S
These games are almost unanimously recommended as the must plays of the system whenever anyone asks for games and each game in this list is considered the best PSVR2 game or one of the very best by multiple reviewers. Each of these games has very high values in all 3 pillars: gameplay, amazing graphics and depth in content.
Examples: Resident Evil 4 and 8, Gran Turismo 7, No Man's Sky.
Tier A
These are stand out games that are usually in multiple reviewer's top 10 games list and are frequently suggested as the better games for the system. Often the best examples of a particular genre but are missing something in one of the quality pillars to be a masterpiece. Most of the games in a top 10 or top 25 list will be here.
Examples of tier A+ Legendary Tales, Horizon Call of the Mountain, Pavlov, Red Matter 2, Walkabout Mini Golf.
Examples of tier A: Propagation: Paradise Hotel, The Light Brigade, Puzzling Places.
Tier B
This is the tier for the average good game. Most recommended games will land here and it is what most people think a 7-8 score represents when they see one. These games you can usually recommend and will enjoy but don't stand out of the pack.
Examples of B+: Hubris, Barbaria, Switchback VR
Examples of B: Galaxy Kart, Star Wars: Tales from the Galaxy's Edge, Thumper
Tier C+
Tier C+ is reserved for those games that most people don't consider particularly good but some people enjoy them for one reason or another. For example, Job Simulator, an old game that hasn't aged well, but still a classic and great for easing people into VR. Cactus Cowboy - Plants at War, is an example of a game that has very low production value but the fact that it is free and is surprisingly enjoyable, makes it stand out of the bunch. Similarly Awesome Asteroids, a short and simple but polished asteroids in VR. Not a lot of game, but perfect for the price. Feel free to suggest any other hidden "pebbles" that you enjoyed even though you know they aren't the particularly good games.

The bright yellow terror

‘’Every now and then I would stare at the murky brown water below and see several small glimpses of bright yellow popping up from and then retreating down below the surface in rhythmic fashion. Like a dance routine. Bright deadly yellow. The rotting sweet stench of death still lodged in my nostrils.’’
I had happened upon these diary pages by mistake when I was digging through old boxes in my basement. My wife had insisted, finally, that I sort out and get rid of everything I didn’t need. Now here I was, confronted with a part of my past I had tried to suppress unsuccessfully for so many years. 24 years to be exact. 24 odd years of trying to understand what exactly happened in those days when I was trapped on a rooftop in Phuket during a deadly and disastrous natural catastrophe.
24 odd years of having to dodge around questions of my abject and unwavering fear of the ocean. Well, in truth, I guess being caught in a large tsunami and witnessing immense destructive forces of nature coming directly from the great wide ocean would be a fair excuse, but it was only half the truth. It wasn’t just the waves themselves that had terrified me.
Until now, I thought the water damaged remains of the diary I kept back then was lost. I even hoped it was. I never shared this story with anyone. Partly because the horror was too fresh in my memory back then and I wanted to focus on moving on with my life and by the time I felt my mind was stabilized I had no real interest in returning to that dark part of my past. Partly because the right words always escaped me.
Mostly because I was afraid people would think I was insane. I can no longer contain this, however. I need an outlet. I spend years running from it. But I guess I can’t lie to myself anymore. Someone once told me that writing can be therapeutic. Simply putting your thoughts down on paper, or in our times, more likely in word document, can help you compartmentalize trauma. So, I’m giving it a try. I can’t pretend the events of those days in Phuket didn’t cast a shadow over everything in my life that came after.
I often think of the beach days I missed with my son when he was a boy. Days where I should’ve done dad stuff. Thrown him into the ocean. Watched him laugh his little face of as he braved the waves. Helped him build sandcastles. Gone exploring along the sandy shores in search of beached treasure in the form little rocks and the odd piece of amber. I just couldn’t. Initially I had objected to the idea of him going at all. Naturally, my wife would hear none of that and I realized reluctantly, that my fear and trauma should not rule my son’s life. Instead, my wife would go, and I would always stay home. She understood, to some degree, what I had gone through and where my fear came from.
Only to some degree. My son did not, and I fear he resented my absence on those perfect sunny days, despite my efforts to make up for it with other activities. Both he and my wife certainly noticed how closed off I was about certain parts of my past. Secrets untold, especially those who are grounded in trauma, almost inevitably turns to toxic in our systems. I’m finally ready. I just hope it isn’t too late.
I won’t lie. I’ve always had a vivid imagination although I have never had trouble distinguishing between what is real and what is not. At least until my sense of reality was forever challenged. I know these things happened to me. I know what I saw and what I experienced was real. I just don’t have a truly rational explanation for it. Yet, I swear, there was something in the water that came with that tsunami. Something deeply, deeply unnatural. Something brightly and oddly yellow. I had no other word for it than the bright yellow terror.
I had travelled to Thailand, more precisely Bangkok late December 2000. 19 years old about to turn 20. I was on one of those infamous and increasingly popular self-discovery trips. I had caught the fever. Like so many other young hopeful adventurers at the time I had seen The Beach. I had read into the wild by Jon Krakauer.
I watched Dicaprio walk the sandy shores of paradise and read on in excitement and awe as Christopher McCandles set out to become one with nature and discover himself. Kill the false being within and all that. In simple terms, I thought I’d try and find my own slice of heaven on earth. Expand my horizon. Get to know some new people. Learn something about myself in the process perhaps. I wasn’t exactly fleeing from anything, that wasn’t it. I had a loving although cuddling and overprotective family. Especially my mom would worry about me constantly (and still does).
Yes, I admit it. My parents had paved the way for me at almost every step. Made sure I got into the right schools. Made sure I never needed for money. I guess I got tired of feeling dependent on them. I stopped taking their money and saved up for the trip myself. It was time I stepped up. It was time I threw myself into the world to see what would happen. Hell of a time and place I picked for that.
The following story is based on the surviving pages of the diary I kept during the time and my own memory.
Bangkok 23rd December 2000. 4 days before the tsunami.
‘’My first day in Bangkok. Quite overwhelming but in a nice way. No one here to save me. No one here to tell me what to do. Thailand is hot and humid and there’s something in the air. I think it’s adventure. I think it’s limitless opportunity. I met a monkey in a diaper and got thoroughly beaten and lost 100 bath in a game of connect four by some 10-year-old kid. Got scammed as well though, I will have to wise up and learn the ropes. Avoid the yellow taxis. Go for the Tuk Tuks. Well, lesson learned. I met a guy who told me all kinds of terrifying things about Australia. Robert. I’m meeting him in Phuket a couple of days from now.’’
You could probably imagine the excitement bubbling within me. For the first time on my own. 19 years old. Prime of my life. In a strangely new and exotic city. Possibilities seemed endless. I still remember vividly driving off with the wind in my hair in a tuk-tuk as Bangkok unfolded before me with all its oriental mysticism and surrounding cityscapes. To be fair, I had never even seen an honest to god palm tree before as they simply couldn’t grow in the northern climate I was from.
I got myself stationed in a decent guesthouse around Khaosan Road. Everywhere I looked it seems others had gotten the same idea as me. Backpackers littered the streets and in a strange way, I felt at home amidst this quiet chaos, amidst the crowds of hopefully likeminded explorers, far, far away from home. The humidity was hitting me though, it was something I would have to get used to. It felt like a wet hot invisible blanket. Khaosan Road was perfect for me. A meeting place for young backpackers, with tons of opportunities to plan further travels. I did after all, not plan on staying in Bangkok for too long. It was just a stepping point to other adventures.
It was still early, and the humidity was clammy as hell. I was in the mood to socialize and with no real plans I simply ventured out into the streets of Bangkok, circling around the area where my guesthouse was located. It wasn’t long before the first opportunity presented itself in the form of a taxi driver calling me over. He offered to take me on a tour of the city. Foolish and naïve as I was, I indulged him. I remember how the cab driver lit up a doobie, joint, spliff, devil’s lettuce whatever you want to call it.
You know it as soon as you breathe in the air. Don’t get me wrong, I smoked myself, but letting a clearly high person drive me around the busy Bangkok traffic did not seem like a good idea. I should probably have asked to be let out that very moment, but as the kind of timid, shy type of person I was plus the desire to just go along with whatever happened come what may made me stay. Unsurprisingly I was eventually led to a store, fitted for a suit a didn’t want, and then subsequently charged an obscene amount for the cab ride. I didn’t have the courage to refuse his unreasonable demand. Noteworthy mention. That same night I heard from a fellow traveler that just recently someone had been stabbed in an argument with a cab driver. I didn’t let it get me down or drive me off course, because as you’ve probably gathered by now, I didn’t have a course.
As day turned to night and when the sun’s rays slowly disappeared behind the rooftops of Bangkok, the city itself began to transform. As if a part of it which had laid dormant, hidden away from the light, started to emerge.
Neon lights advertising different bars, people making all kinds of promises of untold pleasures and sensations. Tourists ready to party. All now filled the streets. Some seemed all too aware of what they were looking for, others simply drifted around aimlessly, in search of something unknown, something to spice up their existence. I found a small seemingly cool place called The Hangover. I swear to god, I wish to this day I hadn’t. Maybe then I wouldn’t have set my course for Phuket. In any case, I went in and pushed myself through the crowds of rowdy and loud tourists and up the bar where I ordered a Pina Colada. Please don’t judge me. I just really like coconuts and the song is pretty good as well. Standing at the crowded bar and looking around, hoping something interesting would catch my eye. But most of all, I was hoping someone would just take the first step and come talk to me.
Someone did. His name was Robert, and he was from Australia. A tall skinny and no-nonsense older guy who seemed quite experienced with all things Thailand. He eventually invited me down to his group of friends at the far back end of the bar. Robert spared no time telling me about himself. He had worked all kinds of jobs, in all kinds of places. Most recently he had worked as a guide in Phuket. Among other things he had arranged rock climbing expeditions. I probably forgot to mention, I was big into rock climbing and generally all kinds of outdoor activities back then.
I already had quite the climbing experience despite my young age. As Robert talked about all the places he’d been, he made me feel like the novice I was. That was never his intention though, as I quickly learned. He wasn’t a bragger. He just knew what he was talking about and when he laughed, he did it with his entire face and in a way that made you laugh with him and feel comfortable.
Eventually the conversation naturally gravitated towards Australia. A place I had always wanted to visit. He looked at me for a second, as if to contemplate something. Then told me to watch out for locals trying to play pranks on me. I was naturally interested in hearing more and that’s when he told me about drop bears. Supposedly drop bears are carnivorous versions of Koalas residing in trees to then drop down on unsuspecting victims and viciously attack them. We laughed quite a lot, and I admitted I would probably have believed the stories as I was a fairly naive person and the idea of hostile subspecies of koalas didn’t seem that farfetched to me. It would be typical of past me to get punked around like that. Our conversation then shifted towards Australian wildlife and fauna and the horrors residing within its diverse and complicated eco system. He told me about a plant not uncommonly referred to as the suicide plant. Dendrocnide moroides or more commonly known as stinging tree, stinging bush or gympie gympie apparently has such a nasty and painful sting it made a man commit suicide simply to escape the pain. Another dangerous inhabitant was the box jellyfish he explained.
Their sting was about as deadly as it gets. A single sting to a human will cause necrosis of the skin, excruciating pain and, if the dose of venom is large enough, cardiac arrest and death within minutes. I have always found jellyfish equal parts fascinating and equal parts frightening. Beautiful but deadly creatures. In fact, the ocean, in all its grand wide-reaching glory had always horrified me to some extent. So much unexplored space. Who truly knows what could be lurking down there? Robert quickly assured me, that as long as you take your precaution the likelihood of getting stung by a box jellyfish was rather small. They had signs up warning people against them. Generally, do not ignore these signs. They are there for a good reason.
It was getting late and before we said our goodbyes Robert suggested I meet him in Phuket, more precisely in the Khao Lak area on the 28^th as that was the first day he would be able to. I thought why not? He seemed genuinely nice and knowledgeable. Just good company all around and he promised to show me the greatest climbing spots a bit away from the crowded tours. It was a start.
I would never meet Robert again. I don’t know what happened to him. Thinking back on those days leading up to the point the waves came crashing down always gives me an uneasy, sad, and melancholic feeling. The people I met in Bangkok talking about going south. Those I met in Phuket before it happened. I have no idea if they ended up as corpses floating through the murky brown waters or god forbid, victims of that unholy terror from the deep. I hope Robert wasn’t among those unfortunate souls who died or went… ‘’Missing’’. Although if I must pick one or the other. I would hope he died quickly.
Bangkok 24^th of December 2000. 3 days before the tsunami.
I woke up with a slight hangover. Christmas is commonly celebrated on this date in my country, so I was expecting some calls to go through on my brick sized Nokia at some point once all the good folks back home woke up. They were about 5 hours behind me and at 9 AM Bangkok time they would still be sleeping. I used the time to do some shopping before my trip to Phuket. I got plenty of rope, a couple of snap hooks and a harness. I knew they’d have all of this on the guided tours, but I liked to find my own spots to climb, and I had good sense and knowledge enough to not attempt anything too daring. By the way. For those uninitiated, snap hooks are used to make a quick, reversible connection on a system of ropes, or to connect a rope or cord to another component, like a lanyard medallion or barrier post. Essential if you want to go climbing. If you’ve ever gone ziplining it’s the thing that connects you safely to the zipline and lets you slight across.
After having done my shopping, I bought a bus ticket to Phuket intending on leaving that same night and went back to my hotel room. As exciting as Bangkok was, I felt it was more for people intend on partying and in all honesty, a bit too crowded for me. I was excited to move on and I could always come back if I wanted to. On my way into the reception area, I was stopped by a young hip looking dude looking for a cigarette. Now I don’t necessarily consider myself a perfect judge of character, but he had an easy-going way about him that immediately drew me in. Sometimes, you can just tell.
He had sort of a rugged look about him. Dirty blond half-long hair. His face I would best describe as boyish but something in his eyes betrayed him and revealed his age to be older than you would assume. His style was… Boheme I guess I would describe it as. Like something taken out of the 70s LA scene. I’m not a smoker. Never was. So, I couldn’t help him on that front. It didn’t matter he would find someone else he said. For a while we just casually talked. Apparently, he had come to Bangkok just a few days prior and seemed about as lost and without direction as I had been before deciding on taking my chances in Phuket. Alex was his name, and he would later save my life and help me understand what it means to forge a quick and unbreakable connection through shared trauma, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere and get a beer. I thought why not? He was about my age and on his own as well. I told him I had to go make some calls and I’d be out in about an hour. Back the hotel room I quickly gathered all my stuff and packed it up, so it was ready to go. My climbing gear took up the most space. I figured if things went well with Alex, I might be able to persuade him in joining me at some point in Phuket. Even though I had set out for this trip to be about discovering myself and being on my own, I longed for some kind of company. Don’t we all? I called my parents up and we wished each other a happy Christmas. It was odd to think they were somewhere nearly half-way across the world celebrating Christmas while snow draped the landscapes there. Here I was, In hot and humid paradise. No, I did not miss the cold or the snow, but I did miss not being there to celebrate the holidays with my family. But it had been my choice to go during the holiday season and I did not regret it. I had saved up enough money and there was no point in waiting anymore. There would be many other holidays to celebrate in the future.
My 5-year-old nephew somehow got a hold of the phone. Not quite the conversationalist yet, it still felt good to hear his voice. Hearing his excitement over the prospect of celebrating Christmas brought me back to my own childhood. Decorating the Christmas tree, watching holiday cartoons and of course, opening presents. I finished my calls and went out to see if Alex was ready. He was already waiting for me and had apparently managed to score some cigarettes in the meantime. He had changed his outfit as well. Now wearing a faded black doors t-shirt. We talked a bit about Jim Morrison and the doors as we headed off down streets. We passed a myriad of small stands selling everything from electronics to colorful t-shirts and small bracelets with campy misspelled English catchphrases. We dodged the many intrusive offers and eventually found a small comfy looking bar with seats outside shaded by palm trees. We ordered a couple of beers and the conversation started flowing along quite nicely. Alex was 25 and from London It turned out. We also had a common interest in music. For a while he had busked as a street musician while working odd jobs here and there and had eventually decided to travel the world.
His first stop had been India where for a while he had lived on the rooftop of some abandoned building while attempting to learn the art of playing the sitar. I thought about that for a second. Living it rough on some rooftop in India. I don’t know why that idea intrigued me so much. Seemed like freedom to me, I guess. Sleeping under the wide-open skies. Looking down on the streets and watching people go about their lives. I guess I just liked the idea of doing something that seemed different from what I had ever done before. Living on a rooftop, if even just for a while, was definitely not something I had done before. There was the view as well, Alex reminded me. And it was free of course. We drifted off into long conversations about music I won’t bore you too much with, only to let you know we shared a passion for old school music like the doors and Jimi Hendrix as well as 90s shoegaze music like My Bloody Valentine, Ride and Slowdive. I had Slowdive’s Shine playing in my mind that day. All felt so dreamy at the time.
I eventually told Alex of my plans to go to Phuket and he was onboard almost immediately. I loved how easy it was here on the road. There was no ‘’well maybe’’, or ‘’let’s think about it.’’ In fact, Alex had been to Phuket before and knew of a place we could stay for free. Another rooftop of course, but he had already sold me on the idea. From there, we could plan our next step he said. ‘’our next step’’ I don’t remember vibing with someone that quickly before or since, but then I guess making friends is always easier when you’re young and easy going. I always seemed to attract good company without much effort back then. I chalk it down to my friendly and slightly shy demeanor. Seems it only becomes harder to make friends as the years pass though. At least for me it did.
We got a bus ticket for Alex and shopped a bit more. I got some first aid supplies. Bandages, plasters, that kind of stuff. Rock climbing is safe, mind you, but you can end up scraping yourself and I felt in general, being prepared for whatever might be a good idea if I was to live it rough on some rooftop. The bus-ride to Phuket took about 12 hours give or take. By going at night, we could sleep most of the way and be in Phuket early morning on the 25^th. The trip down was uneventful. We would take turns listening to music on Alex’s Walkman or talk about things we saw along the way. Like roadside bars and restaurants who were little more than a tin roof covering a few plastic chairs and brightly colored menu cards. Everything seemed simpler here, in the best ways possible.
No big flash, no fanfares or luxury. Nothing pretentious. Just a calm, laid back atmosphere and friendly smiles from the locals as we passed by. Alex told me he wanted to start a band blending elements of Shoegaze with classic rock and insisted I learn to play the drums as he had tried but found no luck. String instruments were more him he told me. I told him jokingly if he could come up with a good name, I might be down. He just nodded and looked out the window and started talking about how beef was a rare and more expensive ingredient in Thai cuisine, and I wondered about the sudden random change of subject. Although we had talked a lot during the short time we had known each other, Alex was still a mystery to me in many ways. Judging from all the things he told me he seemed like a person who dreamed big, but never really followed through
An unfinished education. Scribbles on pieces of paper that ended up gathering dust in his drawer instead of turning into a book. A band that never really took off because he lost interest or didn’t deem that it was good enough to get successful. He talked at length about leaving a legacy. It seemed to be something that concerned him. I guess he wanted to put his mark on the world. To be remembered. To live on in some small way. I had never really thought about it myself although I did have a fascination with historical people and the lives they lived. In fact, when I do read I mostly read biographies. I just never had any ambition like that myself. I don’t need the world to know my name, or sing my praises, or remember me. Good friends, family and a sense of freedom and adventure was enough. I had tried to ask Alex about his family and friends back home, but he seemed avoidant and always found a way to change the subject without really providing any meaningful information. At certain points, I sensed a carefully hidden sadness behind his otherwise optimistically youthful and bright blue gaze.
Phuket 25^th of December 2000. 2 days before the tsunami.
Alex woke me up. It was 9 AM and we had arrived at the Phuket bus terminal 1 near Phang Nga Road. We were here. Alex explained to me that the there were several derelict and abandoned buildings perfect for establishing a free of charge rooftop domicile in an area not too far from the resorts of Khao Lak. Phuket back then wasn’t exactly the overcrowded tourist spot it is today, but it was well on the way. I understood why. The scenery was beautiful. Long sandy beaches with small island dots in the horizon, begging to be explored. Giant limestone cliffs covered in green shrubs. It did seem like paradise to me, without being too far away from civilization. I guess despite my adventurous nature, I wasn’t quite ready at that point, to walk into the wild, which is why Khao Lak seemed perfect as a start for me.
We found the area Alex had talked about. Several derelict buildings were concentrated in a small area divided by a main street that if followed long enough, led to an area with shops and places to dine. We set our eyes on what looked like an abandoned apartment complex. It was derelict, rugged looking and it seemed clear at first that no one lived there. Its ghostly façade begged us inside to explore and we accepted the invitation. As we made our way in, through a busted window in the back, we quickly became aware that the place might not be as abandoned as we had initially thought. Several signs of squatters such as cooking utensils and sleeping mats lay scattered here and there. Alex quickly rationalized that it could just be other backpackers, or it could be the people had moved on. I shrugged and we decided to make our way to the roof. We made our way to the top floor and accessed a broken-down door that led directly out onto the roof. I must admit, besides excitement, I was somewhat hesitant. Any doubt I had disappeared when we first stepped onto the rooftop terrace. It was perfect. It seemed it had functioned as a balcony or space of sorts the inhabitants could make use of for gatherings.
The entire space was surrounded by a fence. Several palm trees shaded the northwest corner which was perfect for when things got too hot. In the middle a small shed or janitorial sort of building stood. We found some cleaning materials, brooms, some parasols in there as well as an old rusty grill. The view was great. We could see the large beachfront in the far distance surrounded by limestones. After inspecting the area and finding it to our liking we sat down, and Alex broke out a bottle of whiskey. Unaware of the horror that would later unfold here, we celebrated in the shade of the palm trees. We had found our place for a while. Our place.
After a while we decided to put some money in the local economy and shop for supplies.
Essentials: Water. Cigarettes. Booze. The devil’s lettuce. Cooking utensils. Although none of us was admittedly any much of a cook. But what the hell. Can’t be seen dining out every night when we were trying to live off the fat of the land so to speak. I know, ridiculous. We were squatters. Nothing more. But heck, we would move on if we became a problem for any one here. We weren’t trying to be a bother.
Optional but greatly wanted: A blow-up animal mascot. Maybe a dolphin if possible. Some new music for Alex’s walk-man. A guitar. Decorating artifacts of any kind to make our domicile more personal.
We more or less got everything we needed and started setting up base. Getting our hands on something funny to smoke proved the biggest challenge but Alex finally succeeded at a beachfront bar. Some friendly Norwegian dude who had connections apparently. He warned us against being too open about doing drugs, even if was ‘’just’’ marijuana. Thailand had a strict approach to drugs. We thanked him and he told us to just come back here at the bar if we needed more, he was usually around.
Afternoon was rolling around and there we were. Sitting atop Phuket. On our very own rooftop presidential suite. We decorated the place with a few things we found. Among them ‘’Arthur’’ our blow-up shark (they had no dolphins). Alex had come up with the name, I asked him why ‘’Arthur’’ but in what I had quickly come to know as typical Alex fashion he just shrugged it off. We just smoked a bit and drank some booze as the evening progressed and I told Alex about Robert and Australia and all the nasty things that could kill you there. I’m not sure why, but it had made an impression on me. Insects, rare poisonous creatures, stuff like that was nightmare fuel for me. Don’t even get me started on spiders. Alex was a bit more laid back on that front. He seemed most amused and interested in the suicide plant and wondered if some poor soul had ever mistakenly used it as toilet paper and we had a good hard chuckle over that idea. Poor soul indeed.
As night rolled on stars started popping up on a clear night the sky and I learned that Alex had a fascination with the universe. Particularly the idea of multiverses and infinite universes. What if somewhere out there we were looking back at ourselves. Slightly different but still us. Sometimes it seemed to me he longed to be anywhere else but where he was. Maybe trapped in the past he was so reluctant to share with me. Then we started talking about time. I don’t exactly remember why. I think he brought it up.
Anyway, Alex had a lot to say about time. Like how he believed our perception of time is tied to our experiences. For example, someone who spends their life not stepping up, not really taking risks or chances, just following along the stream, just following the routine, in essence, just killing time, might experience time as having moved fast when they look back, because there are simply less variety, less volume, less memories to look back on. We don’t remember routines, we remember breaking them, we remember doing new things, meeting new people, being in new places. It creates the illusion that gives time volume, that makes it seem fuller, longer. I liked that idea a lot. It made sense to me. Make sure you live life to the fullest and waste as little time as possible.
I told him about my 10^th grade math teacher and how he said something about time I will never forget. Our perception of time can be measured mathematically. For example, to a 4-year-old turning 5 the transition of a year will seem much longer than it will to a 24-year-old turning 25. Because 1 in 5 is a larger fraction than 1 in 25. It blew my mind. The longer you live, the faster time seem to pass. But I agreed with him, maybe the quality and variety of the life you live and the memories you make has an affect too. Alex made a ‘’boom’’ motion with his hands around his head and laughed. We were quite stoned at that point and well, some of you might know how being stoned sometimes throws you into these philosophical conversations. It was nice. I enjoyed the ease with which I could talk to Alex about all kinds of things.
At one point I asked him a hypothetical. If he could go back in time and change just one thing, what would he do. He fell silent. I once again sensed the sadness creeping behind his eyes. It was if he was about to answer, like he was sizing me up but then shot the idea down. Time travel is impossible, so why bother was his only response and I accepted that whatever troubled him in the past, was not for me to know even if my interest only grew stronger and stronger.
I told him about my family. My overprotective mother. My father and his desperate attempts to get me interested in cars. About my older sister and my nephew. Alex nodded and asked the usual polite questions. When the subject came to my little brother his interest seemed to spark significantly. How old was he? Was I good older brother? Did I look out for him? I didn’t think much about it at the time other than finding it curious how interested he seemed to be. When we finally settled in the for night, under the starry sky, I slipped into a nightmare. It was the same I had had years earlier when I was 16. Back then I was having a hard time adjusting to the new school I had started at and maybe because of that stress I was having nightmares coupled with sleep paralysis.
I would lie in my bed, paralyzed. On my side, facing the door to my room. I often had the light on outside of the room and it would shine in through the open door. This one time , I saw dark figure approaching. Optimistically I assumed it was my mom, coming to wake me up. Although as the dark figure approached, I quickly realized this wasn’t so. No words were uttered. The eerie figure just slowly came closer, until it was right by my bed side. It sat down and I realized it was an old woman or man. It was hard to tell, because its face was literally just a mish mash of wrinkled flesh. No eyes and no mouth either. But it mumbled through its mouthless face. Speaking in tongues.
I spent some considerable time afterwards wondering what it could have been trying to communicate to me. I know of course, this was all just my mind playing tricks on me. Yet, that experience was, I suppose, my first nudge towards believing there’s more between heaven and earth than we might know. It seemed aggressive in any case. My insides were screaming as I desperately tried to wiggle myself awake as I had sometimes successfully done during paralysis. I eventually woke up. Drenched in sweat. Back then though, I had actually been in my room, and in the dream the room had stood clearly for me as it actually looked in reality which only made it seem more real. This time, I woke up next to Alex, still drenched in sweat. Alex had woken up. I had screamed in my sleep apparently. He comforted me in an almost brotherly show of affection. It took me by surprise a bit. I appreciated it, though it only made me wonder about him even more. I would have to solve the mystery behind Alex I decided. I would have to truly gain his trust. Figure him out. And I did.
Phuket 26^th of December 2000. 1 day before the tsunami.
‘’Alex played the guitar a bit and I drummed up some beats. It needed some work, but not half bad. We came up with a name for our band to be as well. Subway sleepers. Based on Alex’s time sleeping in the subway of London. It was another hot perfect day on the rooftop. We talked about going climbing the next day and I can’t wait to show Alex the joys of rock climbing. Everything is peaceful here. No stress. Just living life. Smoking it up. Meeting new people. We talked some more with that Norwegian weed dude and invited him and a couple of his friends up to ‘’our’’ place for a party. Another near perfect day.’’
Looking at these diary scribbles is making me feel it all over again. The serenity of those calm worriless summer days (well it was winter back home but it felt like summer here. Strange that) leading up to disaster. Always calmest before the storm they say. This was our last day before everything changed. Before I got a lesson in humanity. In stress under crisis. Before everything I thought I knew changed forever in the meeting with something that surely shouldn’t exist in this world.

So here's the thing. I'm at the stage of my life where I want a partner to play this game of life we are all playing together. I'll try to keep this short, sweet and to the point.
I have a wide array of hobbies and interests, but my main love is gaming. I haven't been as much into lately as I'd like but I'm getting back into the grind. I'm looking for someone that loves gaming as much as I do and understands it's not just a hobby - it's a lifestyle. I'd also love to have a few little gamers join our ranks (it's ok if you already have your own minions) Let's have an epic gaming cave with epic streaming/creation setups and have awesome gaming date nights.
But, I hear some of you - "But I'm not into gaming" and you know what - that's cool too!
Love traveling and being outdoors? Let's visit 5 cities in each state and hit each of the national parks. We'll camp everywhere we can and hit all the things along the way. I also have plans to drive all of route 66 towards the end of 2025
Love DIYing? Awesome - let's buy a fixer-upper and create our own masterpiece exactly how we want it!
You love working on cars? Let's buy a project car and tear it down to the frame and chassis and rebuild it from the group up. Race it? Show it off at car shows? Possibilities are endless - We will probably need like a 10 car garage though for our toys
Love music? Awesome - concerts and festivals will be our jam! I have a few concerts planned this year and would love a companion on these trips! We can travel the US visiting all our favorite bands/artists
My point is there are lots of different things we can have in common and enjoy each other's company!
I don't really have any preferences as far as my potential partner - just mainly want someone close to me in age and distance (within a few hours) and someone that has their crap together. I'd prefer if you relocate to me temporarily then we can talk about the next steps after that.
Here's a little about me:
36 SWM Slightly taller than average height but I'm fluffy - I am actively working on it and WILL be healthy before the birth of my first child (Also something we could have in common) I have my own house and my own vehicle I love all the animals (but have a cat) I work in the IT field and make decent money I don't put that must weight in the physical appearance of my partner so I don't really need pics right away, but you're welcome to send em if you want to.
Guess it wasn't as short as I thought, huh?
Oh well! If you made it this far yay! I give you 10 internet points.

So here's the thing. I'm at the stage of my life where I want a partner to play this game of life we are all playing together. I'll try to keep this short, sweet and to the point.
I have a wide array of hobbies and interests, but my main love is gaming. I haven't been as much into lately as I'd like but I'm getting back into the grind. I'm looking for someone that loves gaming as much as I do and understands it's not just a hobby - it's a lifestyle. I'd also love to have a few little gamers join our ranks (it's ok if you already have your own minions) Let's have an epic gaming cave with epic streaming/creation setups and have awesome gaming date nights.
But, I hear some of you - "But I'm not into gaming" and you know what - that's cool too!
Love traveling and being outdoors? Let's visit 5 cities in each state and hit each of the national parks. We'll camp everywhere we can and hit all the things along the way. I also have plans to drive all of route 66 towards the end of 2025
Love DIYing? Awesome - let's buy a fixer-upper and create our own masterpiece exactly how we want it!
You love working on cars? Let's buy a project car and tear it down to the frame and chassis and rebuild it from the group up. Race it? Show it off at car shows? Possibilities are endless - We will probably need like a 10 car garage though for our toys
Love music? Awesome - concerts and festivals will be our jam! I have a few concerts planned this year and would love a companion on these trips! We can travel the US visiting all our favorite bands/artists
My point is there are lots of different things we can have in common and enjoy each other's company!
I don't really have any preferences as far as my potential partner - just mainly want someone close to me in age and distance (within a few hours) and someone that has their crap together. I'd prefer if you relocate to me temporarily then we can talk about the next steps after that.
Here's a little about me:
36 SWM Slightly taller than average height but I'm fluffy - I am actively working on it and WILL be healthy before the birth of my first child (Also something we could have in common) I have my own house and my own vehicle I love all the animals (but have a cat) I work in the IT field and make decent money I don't put that must weight in the physical appearance of my partner so I don't really need pics right away, but you're welcome to send em if you want to.
Guess it wasn't as short as I thought, huh?
Oh well! If you made it this far yay! I give you 10 internet points.

So here's the thing. I'm at the stage of my life where I want a partner to play this game of life we are all playing together. I'll try to keep this short, sweet and to the point.
I have a wide array of hobbies and interests, but my main love is gaming. I haven't been as much into lately as I'd like but I'm getting back into the grind. I'm looking for someone that loves gaming as much as I do and understands it's not just a hobby - it's a lifestyle. I'd also love to have a few little gamers join our ranks (it's ok if you already have your own minions) Let's have an epic gaming cave with epic streaming/creation setups and have awesome gaming date nights.
But, I hear some of you - "But I'm not into gaming" and you know what - that's cool too!
Love traveling and being outdoors? Let's visit 5 cities in each state and hit each of the national parks. We'll camp everywhere we can and hit all the things along the way. I also have plans to drive all of route 66 towards the end of 2025
Love DIYing? Awesome - let's buy a fixer-upper and create our own masterpiece exactly how we want it!
You love working on cars? Let's buy a project car and tear it down to the frame and chassis and rebuild it from the group up. Race it? Show it off at car shows? Possibilities are endless - We will probably need like a 10 car garage though for our toys
Love music? Awesome - concerts and festivals will be our jam! I have a few concerts planned this year and would love a companion on these trips! We can travel the US visiting all our favorite bands/artists
My point is there are lots of different things we can have in common and enjoy each other's company!
I don't really have any preferences as far as my potential partner - just mainly want someone close to me in age and distance (within a few hours) and someone that has their crap together. I'd prefer if you relocate to me temporarily then we can talk about the next steps after that.
Here's a little about me:
36 SWM Slightly taller than average height but I'm fluffy - I am actively working on it and WILL be healthy before the birth of my first child (Also something we could have in common) I have my own house and my own vehicle I love all the animals (but have a cat) I work in the IT field and make decent money I don't put that must weight in the physical appearance of my partner so I don't really need pics right away, but you're welcome to send em if you want to.
Guess it wasn't as short as I thought, huh?
Oh well! If you made it this far yay! I give you 10 internet points.

When I was in junior high a transfer student arrived in the middle of the semester; a kid that was different from everyone else. Right away he had caught my eye, in fact he caught everyone's attention because he had a very unique disability; he couldn’t speak. I guess you could say he was deaf, though it was clear to me after getting to know him that he could in fact hear; every word spoken to him was understood with simple nods or gestures; facial expressions contorting into understood language; so I guess he was mute; yeah, that would describe him best. He was an oddity to most but to me he was a unicorn, something that sparkled in our dim monotonous lives and it wasn’t until he revealed who he was did I become terrified of him and his shine.
I was in 7th grade maneuvering my way through the jungle of middle school, avoiding trouble and premature violence. I was an undersized boy for my age, no more than 5ft tall; puberty had yet to visit me leaving me left out of the herd; the other students or the ‘sheep’ as I called them that infested my school. They were all the same, kids that were driven by hormones constantly talking about boys or girls, their deep voices riding on the coattails of the wind that breezed in and out of our hallways. I was a mere shadow, always walking a few paces behind the others not wanting to be seen or acknowledged; I saw what others that looked like me went through, they were tortured and abused for simply existing.
Once Bryce Ellis and his friends stuck Timmy Easton’s face in the shitter for over 10 flushes, I was in a stall over, hiding and waiting for the torment to be over. I slithered my feet up on to the stall caressing them to my chest as I sat in a fetal position horrified of how one human could treat another. Eventually the bullies had gotten bored, their short attention span driven minds directed them to another endeavor leaving Timmy to fester in his tears and possible filth.
He sobbed for minutes that felt like hours as I remained silent in the stall over, I placed my hand cautiously on the barrier wall trying to absorb a bit of his pain, my heart ached for him in that moment and I wanted to lend him a compassionate hand if only I had the courage to do so. So yeah, I did my best to stay hidden, unseen to all the dwellers that mindlessly walked in and out of our school on a daily basis, the boys that believed themselves to be men or the girls that pontificated to anyone that listened. I was lost into an enteral sea of vindictive young adults that searched for any reason to lash out at anyone that stood in their way.
So when ‘Tape boy’ — as they would eventually call him — came to my little middle school that stood still in the secluded hills of our small town I was enthralled almost immediately with his existence. He was introduced to my home room class, I sat in the back burying my head into my arms, occasionally lifting my head to listen on the days lecture. My day dreams entertaining me as the clock slowly ticked away at our lives and it wasn’t until my teacher promptly stopped talking did it trigger a primal emotion in me to sit up and pay attention. I postured myself up straight, pausing the internal movie that played in my mind to see what the interruption was about.
There he was, a new boy that no one had ever seen before, by middle school everyone knew each other; we had went to the same elementary school, the same holiday events and grocery stores. So getting a new student was like getting a new flavor at Baskin Robbins; a mystery taste simmering on the tip of your tongue as you digested every drop, his presence was intriguing. He wasn’t small like me, I would say average height for a 12 year old; about 5'4, slender body with unkempt dark black hair. He looked timid, his head tilted towards the ground not wanting to accidentally lock eyes with any of us as the teacher introduced him, my mind wandering with such intrigue because to all of our astonishment he was wearing a surgical face mask — mind you this was in the 90’s; eons before the Covid pandemic breached the windows of our thoughts.
Right away I could hear the murmurs, the questions erupting throughout the classroom as everyone pondered of why this boy sheltered his face. I stared on for what must of been minutes as the shy boy kept his gaze down, I could see him slightly squeezing the arm straps to his backpack nervously the longer he stood there on full display for all.
I had my fill and I relaxed my postured sinking back into my chair directing my stare out the window but then Billy Sherman asked the question we all had on our minds,
“Uhm, why is he wearing that mask?”.
Our teacher explained to us that it was because of some weaken immune system, something about how his ticker didn’t click like the rest of ours, she then also told us about him being mute. This drew my eyes right back to him, I think it did for all of us and for a moment the quiet kid raised his head and locked eyes with me. His dark black eyes glistened with despair, the deep purple bags that sagged under his eyes were more indicative of someone that hadn’t slept in days. I felt something for him in that moment, our third eye conversing in some cosmic dialogue and as quickly as he rose his head did it drop once again towards the ground. I could still hear all the the other kids snickering, questioning and some even giggling; it made me sick, if I was a braver boy I would of stood on top of my desk and verbally lashed out to all the sheep, instead I rose my hand asking something Mrs. Willis never said, what was the timid boys name?
“Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me, this is Gabriel”.
She sat Gabriel upfront next to her desk, wanting him close in case he needed to write or sign something to her and just like that everyone went back to their simple lives; including myself.
The next few weeks I saw little of Gabriel other than the back of his head during class, once the bell rang everyone that my eyes glimpsed at for the day disappeared or just maybe it was me who dissolved into the ambience of our school. Either way I saw little of the boy who wore a mask, the one that sheltered his true identity and my curiosity with the new flavor of the week gradually faded into the abyss of non-existence; well, that was until the day I saw the mask slip.
It was end of the day, I spent most of the time turning corners anytime Bryce Ellis approached; evading the wrath of him and his band of merry men who were the pinnacle of human torture; finding any opportunity to demean those who crossed their path. I remember leaving Chemistry class, my mind all to occupied with leaving the hell hole of every kids dread and that’s when I saw Gabriel walking down the hall towards the cafeteria; his head still tilted down; his gaze tracking every step he took; face mask still tightly fitted around his face.
This time I saw someone was following him, it was Tom Ingram one of Bryce’s guys, a kid that tried to be the “alpha male” of the group numerous times, doing his best to dethrone the reign of Bryce. He was a big boy for his age, probably about 5'9 and easily weighed 200 pounds, he was a wild card alright; he got caught pouring sugar down Mr. Whitakers old Pontiac gas tank for giving him a poor grade. So when I saw him berating poor Gabriel; taunting him as grotesque laughter followed every insult, I felt like I had to do something and my consistent stealth veneer of camouflage morphed into into a full on sprint towards the two. I saw Tom was closing in on him, other kids looking on with bewilderment on their faces — not knowing if they should laugh out of fear or grimace from disgust. For the first time in a long while did a burning sensation of courage ignite in my soul, I was tired of seeing monsters preying on the sheep and I was going to stop it somehow.
Finally Gabriel had stopped walking and stood still, his head hanging even lower than before, the strands of his long hair covered the remainder of his face. Tom began slapping the top side of the poor kids head, yelling out obscenities, angered that he didn’t stop sooner. I was close, I was gonna stop this since all anyone else could do is cower in fear while looking on and then it happened causing me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening with befuddlement. Tom had torn away the mask from Gabriel's face, awes with groans came from everyone then silence blanketed the entire school and for those few seconds our existence had been swallowed up by the earth itself.
“What the hell” Tom yelped out breaking the still but heavy disquietude.
I wanted to say something, but no words could be manifested only gurgles as I choked on my own disbelief. The timid boy under the mask of intrigue had a strip of black duct tape covering his mouth, it stretching from the side of his face to the other almost resembling what would be some hideous smile. The timid boy then collapsed his hands over his face as faint muffles of sobbing protruded from him, he ran into the nearest restroom only for Tom to pursue. Finally my thoughts had been gathered while my body came back to life, I brushed off the bizarre occurrence of that grizzly smile and I reminded myself of what was about to happen. Tom was going to punish Gabriel for simply existing as he and his gang have been doing for years and like some old factory machine the cogs of my body set into motion as I ran towards the restroom.
Before I could open the door the most horrid scream exploded outwards into the hallway, the sound sending a cold shiver down my spine and Tom came running out of the restroom gripping at his face crying. He was hysterical running and bumping into the walls until finally crumbling onto the floor only to continue sobbing. My mind was clouded with a whirl wind of confusion, I no longer knew what to do, I mean I was going to run in there and stop the assault but now the assaulter was on the floor destroyed. Then Gabriel calmly came out of the restroom, his mask firmly back on and he turned to look at me, his dark eyes burning an image of anguish into my mind. I asked if he was okay of course he said nothing though, he didn’t need to I could just sense his response and it was one of gratitude. I almost could see him smiling at me from underneath the mask and I reminded myself of what was under it; that abysmal duct tape that looked like a sinister grin.
From that day on most of the kids were afraid of Gabriel, I could see the look of terror in their eyes anytime he passed by them even though his headed was still shifted downwards but that’s the day whenever someone mentioned him they referred to him as “Tape boy”. I had heard through the whispers of our school that Tom had suffered some mental breakdown, that the doctors couldn’t find anything psychically wrong with him, it was as if his mind had shattered. He remained in some mental hospital, memories of him gradually fading and the sheep went on with living their mundane lives. Bryce even slowed his bullying, I think he knew that their were now more eyes watching everyone after the altercation and he didn’t want to get caught in some bad situation, though I could see he was itching to get at Gabriel. I went back to being a shadow, avoiding all the others still not too confident that the days of torture were over.
Even though Gabriel was regarded as some magical or perhaps malevolent being by most; not sure which one; he still appeared to be sad; lonely, his head always dragging with despondency. I made an effort in getting to know him, I wasn’t afraid like the rest of them something about the day we locked eyes gave me the resolve to understand he wouldn’t hurt me. I approached him during lunch break, he was outside sitting underneath a tree, the shade showering him a gloom of haze. I think I surprised him or maybe it was just my stealth nature but I saw him jump when I sat next to him. I began talking about the origins of Darth Vader, of how he was originally a hero using his force power for good only to eventually turn to the dark side.
Gabriel just looked at me confounded of why I was even talking to him, his stare looking on with indifference. I told him that he was like a super hero, doing whatever he did to Tom was just like a super power, that I was thankful. His gazed then returned back to the floor almost out of shame, I guess whatever he did that day he didn’t see it as something special, or something to praise. I then told him that I still envied his ability to defend himself, that having such an ability was better than winning the school lottery — which was a week supply of free cafeteria food. I kept blabbering on for the remainder of the break while he still postured his stare towards the floor until the bell had finally rung. Before getting up I told him that if I could have a super power mine would be invisibility that’s when he turned to me pulling out a small spiral from his back pack writing something down, he then showed me.
“Why?” it read.
I told him that I didn’t like being seen, that if I could I would melt away into the noise, then life would be better he just stared at me with what I could assume was disbelief. He didn’t write anything back, he just remain seated while I stood to my feet. I asked if he was coming back to class but he ignored me and just stared out into space presumably lost in his own thoughts.
For the next several months I would catch Gabriel in the hallways, talk to him about the latest edition of whatever comic I was reading, Superman being my favorite and I would go on and on about how his true super power wasn’t strength but hope. I think he became more comfortable with me, pulling out his spiral notebook to write down his thoughts; his questions and answers — a new gateway of communication had formed between us. Most times I could tell what he was going to write by looking at his eyes, those dark haunting eyes, he was a mysterious book slowly being revealed to me and I was completely beguiled by his friendship. Bryce and his little posse slowly went back to bullying the sheep, though they kept their distance from Gabriel and me.
I guess I had a new protector one that wouldn’t be crossed and something about that protection left me feeling proud. I knew in my heart that the timid kid that now went by “Tape boy” wouldn’t hurt a fly that maybe the day of Tom going crazy was all by chance, perhaps his rage snapped his mind. I tried asking him about that day numerous times but he never explained what happened he would redirect the conversation back to super hero’s. I would walk home with him on certain days, well, more like he would walk me home I never got to see where he lived, he was too reserved to give up that kind of information but the days we would walk together was always fun. I finally felt like I belonged, the longing emotion of needing acceptance was found by his friendship.
One day when I was walking home by myself I decided to stop in at the gas station to pick up a drink and scour the latest edition of comic books in the small rack of magazines. Before entering the store I could hear arguing voices engaging in combative dialogue and it became vividly clear that it was more of a yelling match than conversation. It was coming from the side of the building, most times I would just ignore it but one of the voices sounded all too familiar and I crept slowly to the edge of the building poking my head out to get a glimpse of the disturbance. It was Bryce, his back was up against the wall while someone who I presumed was his father berated him with such a vicious snarl on his face. The angry man kept slapping Bryce across the face anytime he tried to say something and soon tears began drizzling off the face of the mighty bully only for the man to laugh.
I didn’t know why the older man was treating Bryce the way he was, information cut out of my understanding, for all I know it could of been because of something the bully did at school. I found it to be poetic justice that the boy that caused so much heart ache suffered the same amount only at home. It felt like a cliche, the angry kid was angry because of the angry father; a cruel loop of never ending proportions. Eventually the man or father walked away getting back into his car leaving the bully to brush away the tears from his face. I cautiously retreated my head away deciding to ditch the store completely when that same broken voice only minutes ago shouted out to me with a hefty dominance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bryce howled out.
I didn’t bother turning around, I just ran home, dodging into alley ways trying my best to not been seen. It didn’t appear as if he was following, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state was bemusing. We were a small town how could I not know who the man was, we all knew each other since we were small and then it hit me; Bryce’s dad had left when he was little. This man must of been his step dad or perhaps mom’s boyfriend, it didn’t matter I was going to mind my own business, I was going to slither back into the shadows; but my attempts would only fall on defeated shoulders.
I didn’t want to tell anyone of what I saw, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut would of been enough for the bully to leave me be. Unfortunately there is no reasoning when it comes to human beings, we base our actions on emotions, our anger and Bryce confronted me the next morning in front of Gabriel.
“Hey fairy, did you enjoy the show?” the angry kid spouted out at me.
I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t trying to intrude, that the arguing concerned me, that I didn’t like seeing him being mistreated and then he punched me right in the gut. I fell to the floor gripping at my stomach, the pain slicing through every fiber of my body. I tried catching my breath but inhaling was too painful and I sheltered my face expecting another punch but the bully walked off leaving me to sweat. Gabriel kneel down to me taking out his spiral notebook writing the obvious question, I gestured to him to give me a moment and I honestly felt like crying. I had spent years doing my best to blend into the background, the invisibility power I was so desperate to have amongst the sheep was now gone; I was on Bryce’s radar.
For the remainder of the school year I tried avoiding the bullies, the monsters that preyed on the sheep but their leader would actively search for me, he was no longer intimidated by Gabriel; his once menacing allure had dwindled and now we both were sitting ducks. Luckily there was only a few weeks left until summer break and I only had hoped that the time off would be enough for the monster of monsters to cool off.
Entering summer was a relief much needed for my sanity, I took a few thrashings but it was over, me and Gabriel had big plans on spending time together. He wasn’t an out door kind of kid, he usually would just come over my place and we would read my comic books. He quickly grew enchanted with the idea of super hero's, their powers restoring balance to the nature of our world. I enjoyed every minute of it, my parents on the other hand looked less jovial to our friendship, they didn’t like the mask; it worried them. They thought that whatever illness he had could be passed on to me, but they didn’t do anything to stop us from seeing each other, they only silently protested.
So after awhile we decided to meet somewhere outdoors, away from my parents judgmental stares, there was a creek close to my house, the trees giving us enough shade to stay cool on those long summer days. The small stream that flowed through the trenches of the creek enriched our view as we would find the perfect rock to perch on while reading our comics. We didn’t see much of any of the other classmates that summer, the sheep kept their distance or maybe it was just us, but the days seem to pass quickly and before we knew it summer was coming to an end. I couldn’t remember how many volumes we must of read but Gabriel was now a fan of almost every super hero. He tend to raise out his arms while walking, mimicking the premise of flying like Superman; his ponderous eyes cutting through the brush as we escaped our secluded summer spot.
It was on the final day of our summer break did I pressure the shy timid boy to explain to me what had happen that day, the day Tom lost his marbles, I needed to know. Gabriel as always tried redirecting the conversation, holding up a comic of Batman, pointing at some dialogue. I got upset, I raised my voice telling him that if we were friends then he should tell me, that there wasn’t secrets between us. His heavy eyes collapsing to the ground, shifting his posture on the rock that we both sat on.
“Look, I just need to know, you’re my best friend” I told him with genuine longing.
The school year was about to start up again and I could already envision a future of slithering through the hallways how I have always done, but with Gabriel maybe that could change. I needed to know and I was done guessing, fantasizing that he was some super hero or at least my hero; my protector. I stood up off the rock walking over to the stream, the sound of water colliding unto the small stones that infested the trench triggered something awful in my gut. I took a deep breath and made my final stand with my best friend.
“If you don’t want to tell me then I’m going home, see ya” I said with impatience dripping off of my words.
Gabriel ignored my warning and continued pointing at the comic book, that’s when I noticed what he was pointing at, it wasn’t dialogue it was one of Batman's villains — he was pointing at Clayface. This made me stop, my minding halting after speeding at 100 miles per hour; it crashing my thoughts.
“Yeah, what about Clayface?” I curiously asked with a withered and tired voice.
That’s when his pointer finger was no longer on the page but rather it was pointed towards his mouth; the mouth that was hidden behind his mask. He could see my face drop with sadness, whatever disfigurement he had underneath that horrid black duct tape must of been something like the villain from the comic and my heart broke for him. Gabriel’s eyes gleaming with absolute sorrow, the boy that only wanted to be left alone, the person all the others feared just wanted solitude and here I was badgering him to no end about something so insignificant. We stared at each other for several seconds, our eyes meeting in some altered state and I reached my hand up to his face tenderly taking off his mask. There it was, the black duct tape that resembled a grin, a nightmarish one that could only been seen in some horror movie. I then placed my fingers on the edge of the tape, my cold grip causing him to shiver and I slowly began to remove it.
“What the hell are you fairy’s doing?” a voice called out from the brush, one that sank my heart into my stomach.
I turned trying to locate the voice and sure enough there he was, the bully that had tortured so many for so many years — it was Bryce. His body slowly revealing itself from the brush like some despicable ooze frothing from the depths of hell. Though, something about him was different, his cold stare no longer fictitious but more intimidating and as his body fully emerged did I see the blood trickling down his soaked stain shirt. He was covered in the crimson fluid, there was even some on his cheeks almost as he had some open wound and smeared the remnants of it on his face. The devilish grin that bestowed his bruised and beaten face quickly led me to a conclusion; one that I wish I didn’t conclude. A purplish black infested the out layer of his left eye, it practically closed shut and his nose had been bent to a unsightly angle. I started to whimper as my lips trembled from fright because this Bryce was not the same one that had given us wedgies or swirlies this one was a true monster, a beast that devoured souls. His gaze was enough to display a vacancy of any humanity and my eyes crawled down his arm into his hand to see the black pistol that he firmly gripped.
“Uh, Bryce what happened? Are you okay?” I groaned out while sniffling.
He didn’t answer, he just kept grinning at me, the ghastly smile that stretched ear from ear plagued my vision and I knew that he had done it, that he had hurt someone badly. I was terrified and in the moment I had completely forgotten about Gabriel, my tunnel vision only focused on that firearm.
“Where the hell did the other one go?” the monster asked, I turned and realized Gabriel in fact had run away leaving me behind.
I wanted to run, I wanted to flee while screaming but horror kept me in place and I felt like some dear trapped in headlights contemplating my entire life in mere seconds.
“Everyone always messes with me!” Bryce yelled out with such ferociousness.
There was no talking my way out of this one, no pleading, I knew in that moment he was going to kill me; his rage over flowing to the point of lunacy. He quickly pounced dropping me to the floor, screaming with madness and he repeatedly hit me over the head with the but of the gun causing me to see stars. His words became incoherent sounding like muffled tones that slushed it’s way into my hearing, I shook my head trying to collect myself, just maybe I could figure a way out of this but as soon as my vision corrected itself Bryce would strike me another time causing it to blur once again. I fell into a darkness, my world collapsing into an eternal void of loneliness as my body began to float effortlessly but as soon as I thought this was my final moments flashes of Gabriel flooded into my mind awakening me out of whatever slumber I found myself in. That’s when I realized Bryce was no longer hitting me, instead he was talking to someone and as I grabbed at my head trying to steady my balance I saw it was Gabriel standing still head as always tilted downwards.
Bryce confronted him pointing his 9mm directly at his head yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs but my best friend remained unmoved, just quiet and then he slowly removed his mask. This caused Bryce to pause, his tone weaken and I think for the first time he digested if he should proceed doing what he was doing.
“What are you doing freak?” the bully yelped out.
Gabriel remained quiet, eyes still directed towards the floor, his breathing escalating; I could see his chest pump more vigorously with each passing second. With the mask off me and Bryce could see the bewildering black duct tape strapped to his face, Gabriel’s face began to tremble violently as if he was trying to yell through the bondage. He then finally began to peel of the thick layer of black duct tape and it came off with a wicked screech as I could see my friends eyes squint with pain.
Bryce was no longer pointing the gun at Gabriel, no longer was he even saying a word his arm lowered to his side and both him and I stared on with amazement. What was under the tape was layers of skin, twisting and binding to each other like some thriving organism living it’s own life on Gabriel's face. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t say anything I was in shock and my head still throb from pain. Then Gabriel's mouth — if you want to call it that — began to stretch open, he tilted his head backwards while the mountain of dead flesh started to drip down his face allowing some endless void to open up inside of him. I could hear the cracking of bones breaking, his jaw shifting to accommodate the massive hole that was now his mouth and then horrid dwindling fingers began to protrude from the darkness.
My mouth gaped open with trepidation and if I had the ability to adjust my head I would think Bryce had the same facial expression. Then a grotesque head forced it’s way out of my friends mouth revealing a face that could only exist in the realms of the dead, this new creature having two large almond shape eyes; eyes that looked very similar to the ones that were attached to my friend. This ‘thing’ then stared at Bryce, that’s all it did, no words were spoken no violence was created it just stared at him and soon the bully grasped at his face and began to yell. He ran frantically in different directions, his gun firing out into the tree line, I jumped for cover; falling to the floor sheltering my head with my arms. Bryce’s terrified screams caused my stomach to turn and soon those dire cries stopped along with the gunshots.
I must of stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, too scared to rise to my feet and through my peripheral did I see the sun begin to set plunging the small creak into darkness. I eventually mustered up enough courage to get up and I looked around, Bryce was mere feet away from me, he lay still on the floor blood spewing out of his head; it appeared as if had shot himself. I walked over to his body befuddled of what to do I then remembered Gabriel, I turned to look for him but he was gone it was only me and Bryce's dead corpse. I ran home telling my parents about everything, of the encounter I experienced, at first it seemed as if they didn’t believe me but they still phoned for the police.
I led them to the creek to the bullies dead body, I initially thought perhaps they would blame me, connect me to his death but the police believed me; well the believed me about Bryce but not about Gabriel. They told me that Bryce had killed his step father, apparently they had gotten into some altercation and afterwards he went into his mothers bedroom and shot her to death. They told me that the once bully was a disturbed individual, suffering abuse for many years; that I was lucky to escape from his wrath. I told them that they needed to find my friend I wanted to know if he was okay, but all the officers could do was pat my back with sympathy trying to relax me.
It has almost been 30 years since the event, I still have nightmares of what had happened, I see the dead stare Bryce had while pointing his pistol at me, I see him repeatedly hitting me over the head again and again. Though, what still haunts me more is Gabriel's mouth contorting into that horrid shape revealing the creature that lived inside of him. He was never found, I’m pretty sure he moved on to another city, another place where bullies like Bryce tormented their schools and I could only imagine Gabriel was there to balance the wrongs of the world. I am scared of my best friend, but I know at the same time he is my protector; my super hero, he is out there doing good, I can feel it and I hope he can sense my love for him. Maybe we will never meet again, perhaps it’s not written in the stars for us to reunite but one thing is for sure, I get comic books mailed to me randomly every month; most are of Superman and I know exactly who they are from.

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Spying on a college student wasn’t exactly riveting, mostly because it was so easy! Connecting to Tav’s computer had been a breeze, and taking over the microphone on her phone wasn’t exactly hard either. Blanco had a good look at the girl’s files, checking her old writings with little to no interest, and then reading through the notes she was taking on a ‘Translation effort’ with legitimate curiosity.

The creature was sitting in the air, slowly sliding from one side of his room to the other, lit only by the lights of the many screens on its walls… all while the grin on his face was only growing wider and wider with each new discovery. So a language, hmm? Wasn’t that the thing that G and Eighty Two had been rambling about for years now? Ohhh, he couldn’t wait to tell them… or, at least, tell G about it.

He had been paid quite the hefty sum to not tell 82 a thing of what they discovered, at least for now… the fight between those two had always struck Blanco as arbitrary and stupid, but alas! It wasn’t his business, really! In fact, that fight had brought much more business to him than anything!

The phone suddenly rings. Speak of the devil! A quick check on the caller ID showed Eighty Two’s private line.

With a broken glass grin covering his otherwise smooth face, Blanco took the phone.

“Bianccio Pizzería! Thickest pizza around! How can I help you?~” Oh how he relished pissing people off.

“Shut up.” A cold, feminine voice came from the other side. Eighty Two always sounded so annoyed… “I need a service. Payment will be in advance, as per our usual accord.”

“Ohhh straight to the point huh? I like it!”

“There’s a new user in Dejima 08. Perform the usual Safety Scan. They claim to have been invited by user ‘Canned Tea’, but we know he has lied about it before.”

“Ok, let me check!” Just to cover, Blanco tapped gibberish on his keyboard while softly going ‘beep boop’ as he worked. “... Alright! Got it!”

“That was fast.”

“Tav. Real name Santino Belnades. A Bastard Mage living in Saüle, Wohl.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Actually she goes by she now!”

“Is she dangerous?” Mustafá grumbled, more annoyed than usual.

“Nah. Just a college student like many others. She’ll give up or die in a month tops.”

“...” Mustafá remained silent for a moment, ruminating. “So Canned Tea is just covering another random bastard…”

“Ahem. My pay?”

“Why is this kid like this? Can’t he realize that he’s getting them into far more trouble than it’s worth?”

“I thought you said nothing ever happens in that forum of yours. Isn’t that your main complaint?”

“That doesn’t mean nothing ‘can’ happen at any moment. If the Brotherhood finds out about this forum, they could seize all of us for questioning.” The alchemist let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah, real tragic. Pay me.”

“I wonder how this one got turned. Probably some mage’s irresponsible usage of spells…? No, Wohl has such a low magical population, and such a high conscription by the Brotherhood…”

Blanco let out the deepest of sighs, rubbing his smooth face with a hand while spinning slowly on his non-existent chair. This was exactly why he prefered working with G, that and the lack of emotions that witch had…

And people called him inhuman! Hah!

“Keep an eye on her. I will pay you right now.”

There was a loud ‘KA-CHING!’ sound coming from one of the computers in the room. Blanco sighed in relief.

“Thank you for your patronage! I will keep you updated.”

“Good.”

With that, the alchemist hung up. Blanco growled again. No one said ‘Good Bye’ these days now, did they!? Rude pricks. And bad news kept coming up! This ‘Canny’ guy was now telling her that he’ll teach her the glyph for digital security?

“Guess baby time is over.”

He’d have to work a little harder to stay hidden if Tav decided to install that on all of her devices. At least it would keep him entertained! Blanco decided to focus on preparing for when things would get more intense.

After all, he had some time. The kid was going to the library, right? There was only one book she wanted from there, and Blanco had read it several times over already.

Gato’s old scratchbook held no new knowledge for the vampire to be interested.


There is no such thing as an entire section dedicated to recipe books in Saüle University’s Library, but I manage to find that stuff in the ‘miscellany’ section. That’s where all the hobby and self-help material ends up, and even if it took me a moment to come to the conclusion, that’s where I went too.

It takes me even longer to look through every single tome I could in that section, but finally, after all my hard work… I think I have found it.

Canny was right, this is a cheap notebook. Soft covers, spiral-bound, both sides stamped with wizard hats, frogs, potion phials and many other pieces of typically ‘witchy’ imagery. Looking through the pages, it is just a bunch of cake and kuchen recipes, nothing to write home about. It is old, the pages are all yellowish and fragile, and there are stains everywhere.

Then, when I am sure no one is watching… I whispered the words.

“Jantar mantar…?”

It is instantaneous, as soon as I say the password the pages begin to change, words disappearas the ink that wrote them starts gathering in a single, dark blotch, and then begins rearranging again…

Something compels me to close the book, feeling a little embarrassed. For some reason I equated it to catching someone changing up clothes, how outrageous!

Finally, after waiting for a moment, I open it again.

The Bastard’s Guide to Magic
By Gato

Okay, that was certainly a title.

Now that I have it in my hands, I quickly close it again and add it to a pile of books I have picked up. Stuff on ancient symbology and old civilizations. With my loot in my arms, I quickly go over to the main desk and get it all sorted.

The second floor librarian smiles at me for a moment before scanning all the barcodes, giving me a week to return all the books, and then offering me a bag to carry them. I shake my head, setting it all in my backpack.

… Wow, it’s been a while since I've taken this old backpack out to Uni, huh?

“Feeling nostalgic?”

“For the times you were an actually useful member of society?”

Maybe a little bit, to be honest. I still remember when I used to come here with Patricio looking for academic books and I escaped the duties to look for something interesting to read…

“Back when you actually read as a hobby.”

Shut up, I’ve been reading more these days, I am returning to it.

Walking out of the Library, I once again avoid the gaze of any acquaintances and run straight for the streets to take another taxi back home. There aren’t that many people around today anyways, probably because of Winter Vacation.

Maybe I should send Patricio a message…

“Oh yeah? And what will you tell him? That you’re ditching formal studies for a fantasy? That magic is real and shit?”

I… thought of saying hi. That’s what friends do, right?

“When was the last time you spoke to a friend? Pepe? Vito? What about Venus?”

I flinch for a moment.

“We can fix that right now! Let’s go chat with Patricio when we get home!”

I… don’t think I will, no. The mere idea of getting in contact with him makes me a little sick from the nerves, especially considering I don’t really have an answer for what he told me before. I remain as undecided on the whole ‘career’ deal as I was that day.

With a hand I call for a passing taxi, and I have the luck of being acknowledged. You never know with the Taxists these days, it is very well known that they dislike the college students in this city.

Maybe he is hurting for money.

I sit down, tell the man where I need to go, and stop thinking about things for a moment as the car moves… only to feel my phone vibrating.

It vibrates more than once.

That means someone’s calling me.

I start sweating almost immediately, as I carefully pull the thing out. Two possibilities, it js either spam, or it is my parents.

It is my parents.

“Calm down.”

“How do you think they would feel if they knew how fucking distressed their presence make you? Do you think they would ask ‘whatever did we do wrong?’ or something like that?”

“Don’t listen. Just… remember that they’ve never meant anything bad, ok? They will accept you, regardless of your results in college.”

I gulp… and with a deep breath, I put on the mask. All trembling stops, just like that night at the planetarium… although it really pains me to compare mom and dad to the cloaks. With another deep breath, I pick up.

“Mom?”

“Ohhhhh hi there Santi! How are you today? I hope I didn’t catch you too busy!” Mom was as vital and energetic as ever. Despite her old age, she really always acts like a far younger woman. That’s admirable, at least to me.

“She will die eventually, too.”

Saints above, shut up.

“I’m fine mom! I was just returning from the library. We started vacation this week, so I was picking some stuff to read on my own.” Not technically a lie. “How are things over there in Sumpf?”

“Ohhh you know, there’s never much to tell around here. Your dad and Vito always at each other’s throats… I really hope they'll get along a bit better with time.”

“They wont. If anything, it will get worse.”

Vito will grow wiser and dad will grow older, I am sure things will get better.

“Hah, I guess some things never change… what about you? Feeling fine?”

“Oh you know me, I am fine! For now.” She laughed loudly. “And you, Santi? How do you feel?”

“Uh…”

Damn it. I hesitated. I need to give that a reason NOW.

“... Well I had a bit of a toothache before, but beyond that, all’s…” I sigh. “Okay, maybe not so good. Mom, I think I flunked my exams this time…”

“Oh my dear…” She sighed, before going back to her positive self. “Don’t torture yourself over it now. Wait for the actual grade to be announced, then torture yourself!”

“Moom!”

“I am just kidding sweetie.” She chuckled a bit. “It is fine, we all fail sometimes… really, it’s not the end of the world, I swear.”

“She’s trying to soften the blow from the fact that you’re a fucking failure.”

I shudder.

“You are doing your best, that’s all that matters.”

“Are you?”

“We are proud of you, Santi. Never forget that.” She said, probably smiling.

“They were proud. Now? They are just enduring you.”

My lips tremble, a sharp breath escapes me. No, please. I can’t cry in a damn taxi…

“...Mom.”

“Yes, dear?”

“... What if this career isn’t what I am meant to do?”

“We are not ‘meant’ to do things. The Saints put us here to try and improve ourselves, but there’s no one dictated path, dear.”

Sometimes I forget that mom is quite religious, it makes me smile a little bit.

“I know, I know. But that’s not what I meant…” I hesitate again, breathing in and out, trying to keep the panic attack at bay. “... Mom… what if this is not the career I am built for?”

“Well… you can always change, dear! It is no problem, don’t worry about the money. We can afford it, especially with your scholarship!”

I certainly lost that one with my disastrous performance here, but I don’t have the guts to tell Mom that.

“As if she didn’t know already. She’s not stupid.”

“... Thank you mom.”

“Any time, dear. If there’s ANYTHING at all that you feel like telling me, remember that I am always on your side, okay?”

“Yes mom.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘yes mom’, that means ‘shut up already, old lady’, right?” She giggled.

“Mooom!”

“Alright, alright… I hope you can come back soon, okay? We miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“She doesn’t believe you. None of them do. They think you’re cold, distant and a failure on top of all that.”

“I love you mom.”

“Love you too, Santi.”

Click.

The taxi is not moving, it hasn’t been for a while now. The old man behind the steering wheel looks at me with concern.

“We’re here… kid. If something is wrong, you gotta tell your mom. Trust me… there are many things I wish I told mine before she passed.”

“You don’t know us. You have no idea about us. Stop talking so familiarly to us and go away.”

I flinch, pushing down that response and just sighing.

“I know… thank you.”

After paying the man, I walk out of the taxi and let it go, standing in front of my apartment complex for a moment.

I really don’t want to cry today.

But I already feel some tears going down my face.

Why am I like this?

Cleaned up the inventory into folders on an easy to navigate Google Drive and added direct links on each issue below. Click on the issue to be taken directly to the folder with that issue's photos. You can scroll below the inventory list for more details on condition and key facts. I’m always open to bundle deals and reasonable offers. Let's talk, I need to make room.
I’ve also taken on a lot of random fillers as I fill inventory, so I’ll be including a random comic valued around $10 (legitimately, not junk) in each order.
These prices include shipping (Gemini mailers whenever possible). I've tried to provide condition explanations, photos of everything (even the ones below $100) and detailed photos.
Again, all images are now organized much better in individual Google drive folders.
Inventory with pictures (new items since last post in bold, scroll below list for details on each):
X-Men

• X-Men #39 - $SOLD$80
• Wolverine (1988) #1 - $65
• X-Men #221 - $70
• X-Men #4 (1992) - $20
• Amazing Adventures #11 - $100
• Amazing Adventures #13, #16 & #17 - $42
  • Bundle with Amazing Adventures #11 for $120

Spider-Man

• Amazing Spider-Man #29 - $135
• Amazing Spider-Man #33 - $180
• Amazing Spider-Man #40 - $175
• Amazing Spider-Man #64 - $84
• Amazing Spider-Man #72 - $35
• Amazing Spider-Man #121 - $190
• Amazing Spider-Man #136 - $48
• Amazing Spider-Man #361 9.4 Slab - $110
• Amazing Spider-Man #361 Newsstand (slice damage) - $38
• Spider-Man vs. Wolverine #1 - $19
• Marvel Team-Up Annual #2 - $25

Batman

• Batman #191 - $18
• Batman #209 - $18
• Batman #217 - $38
• Batman #357 - $62
• Batman Annual #14 - $15
• Detective Comics #259 - $175
• Detective Comics #324 and Batman #410 - $32
• Detective Comics #355 and 2 copies of #375 - $25

Marvel Heroes

• Incredible Hulk #250 (Newsstand) - $38
• Marvel Feature #1 - $49
• Tales of Suspense #94 - $55
• Captain America #110 - $50
• Journey into Mystery #125 - $49
• Invaders #31 (Nazi Frankenstein) - $17
• Daredevil #184 Newsstand - $22
• Daredevil #157 - $15
• Daredevil #164 (Newsstand) - $50
• Astonishing Tales featuring Dr. Doom & Kazar #1 - $15
• Sub-Mariner #15 and #31 - $22
• Fantastic Four #150 - $25
• Tales to Astonish #58 - $19

DC

• Green Lantern #59 - $115
• Flash #113 - $75
• Flash #129 - $90
• Flash #147 - $90
• Aquaman #11 - $90
• Action Comics #263 - $33

Horror

• Frankenstein #1 Marvel - $37
• Werewolf by Night #4 (low grade) - $20
• Werewolf by Night #8 Mark Jewelers Insert - $26
• Werewolf by Night #18 - $22
• Tomb of Dracula #18 - $32
• Tomb of Dracula #27 and #63 - $23
• Strange Tales #73 (low grade) - $22
• Beware! #1 - $25
• Early Man-Thing lot: Astonishing Tales #13, Adventure into Fear #11-13: $80 (willing to split this lot up)
• House of Secrets #91 - $32
• Giant Size Chillers #1 (1975 not 1974) - $20
• Tower of Shadows Annual #1 - $25
• Dead of Night #1 - $35

Sci-Fi

• Mystery in Space #68 - $25
• Strange Adventures #138 - $18
• Golden and Silver Age Lot of 12- $85
• Star Spangled War Stories #113 - $17

Condition and Key Details:
X-Men
X-Men #39 - 1967 - Debut of the new X-Men costumes: $SOLD$80
This is an awesome book. It’s absolutely beautiful with just a little bit of wear to the outside edges in spots. Great colors, solidly attached. I love this one. Another one I’m only selling because I have it in a higher grade now in my PC.
X-Men #221 - 1987 - First Appearance of Mister Sinister: $70
Awesome condition. Just a couple of minor spine ticks. Other than that, beautiful. See photos.
X-Men #4 - 1992 - First Appearance of Omega Red: $20
Awesome condition. Not even any spine ticks. See photos
Wolverine (1988) #1 - 1988 - Can’t have the 1982? Take this instead!: $65
Also in awesome, gorgeous condition. Very, very clean. See photos.
Amazing Adventures #11 - 1972 - First furry beast: $100
In awesome condition. Minor, tiny blemish (possibly a tape pull?) on the bottom of the A on cover. See photo, but very tiny blemish.
Amazing Adventures #13, #16 & #17 - $42
Good to great condition on these Beast issues, including the Juggernaut vs Beast cover. Bundle with Amazing Adventures #11 (first furred Beast) and I'll give you a great deal.
Spider-Man
Amazing Spider-Man #29 - 1965 - SLAB CGC 4.5 - Second Scorpion: $135
Slabbed. See photos.
Amazing Spider-Man #33 - 1966 - Classic story and iconic cover. You know it, I know it.: $180
This iconic book is in good to great shape, see the photos for the details. Solidly attached and great colors. Needs a press.
Amazing Spider-Man #40 - 1966 - Origin of the Green Goblin, Iconic Cover: $175
Looks great, clean, bright colors. Complete and solidly attached. See photos
Amazing Spider-Man #64- 1968 - Romita Spider-Man vs. Vulture Cover: $84
Great condition. Bright awesome colors.
Amazing Spider-Man #72 - 1969 - Shocker cover: $35
Is worn and the centerfold is detached (see photos). But it is complete and still has good colors on the interior.
Amazing Spider-Man #121 -1973 - Death of Gwen Stacy: $190
Lower grade since the cover is worn, has some holes but despite that the staples are attached, colors are good, and everything is attached and complete. The inside looks good, too. See photos for details.
Amazing Spider-Man #136 -1974 - First appearance of Harry Osborn at the Green Goblin: $48
Great looking book. Has some non-staining dirt on the back cover that can be easily cleaned. Solid, beautiful colors especially on that cover. Love this story and cover
Amazing Spider-Man #361 9.4 Slab - 1992 - First full appearance of Carnage: $110
High grade slab.
Amazing Spider-Man #361 Newsstand - 1992 - First appearance of Carnage - Slice at top, $38
Here's a tragedy. This otherwise beautiful high grade major key book has a clean scissor cut at the top through the whole book. Included photos and closeups.
Spider-Man vs. Wolverine #1 - 1987 - Death of First Hobgoblin: $19
Awesome condition. Pressable non-color breaking crease on back cover. See photos
Marvel Team-Up Annual #2 - 1978 - Spider-Man & The Hulk team-up: $25
In awesome condition. No spine ticks, creases, color breaks or bends.
Batman
Batman #191 - 1967 - Much like this post, Bat-Auction! Everything Must Go!: $18
Good shape, some wear. Clean exteriors.
Batman #209 - 1968 - KITTY!: $18
Good shape, minor wear, clean but worn.
Batman #217 - 1969 - Iconic cover art by Neal Adams: $38
Great shape, some wear on the cover. Solid book, great art and interiors.
Batman #357 - 1983 - First cameo of Jason Todd, 1st full appearance of Killer Croc: $62
Controversial 1sts aside, CGC counts it that way so who am I to quibble? Anyway, this one is in great shape. Back needs a press and thee is some minor wear to the edges but its a solid book with great interiors.
Batman Annual #14 - 1990 - Iconic Neal Adams Two-Face Cover, Origin of Two-Face: $15
Amazing condition, almost unused. See photos.
Detective Comics #259 - 1958 - First Appearance of Calendar Man: $175
Worn but expected for its age. Solid staples and fully attached. Great colors.
Detective Comics #324 (1964) and Batman #410 (1987) - $32
324 in good condition but could use a clean and press. Batman 410 is in awesome condition, but considering the prices of these I figured I’d just throw them together.
Detective Comics #355 and 2 copies of #375 - $25
Some classic old Batman. Good but a cleaning is needed on 355, two copies of 375 one clean and great condition one worn in but complete and attached.
Marvel Heroes
Incredible Hulk #250 (Newsstand) - 1980 - Iconic Hulk vs. Silver Surfer cover: $38
Awesome condition. See photos.
Marvel Feature #1 - 1971 - Origin & First Defenders: $49
I good condition with fantastic colors throughout. Has tape pull on cover, subscription crease color break (see photos)
Tales of Suspense #94 - 1967 - First appearance of M.O.D.O.K.: $55
In pretty good condition, with a little edge wear and marks on the cover in places. Other than that it has bright clean pages and good colors.
Captain America #110 - 1969 - Rick Jones dons Bucky Costume, first appearance of Madame Hydra: $50
Iconic Jim Steranko cover and art. In OK condition, a bit worn, could definitely use a cleaning. See photos.
Journey into Mystery #125 - 1966 - Iconic cover and last Journey into Mystery before Thor title change: $49
Very good condition, has a small chip out of the bottom left cover but other than some cover wear it’s just a solid book with great colors.
Invaders #31 - 1978 - Frankenstein is a Nazi. Come on: $17
In awesome condition. Also did I mention Captain America fights Nazi Frankenstein?
Daredevil #157 (Newsstand) - 1979: $15
Awesome condition. No spine ticks, creases, color breaks or bends.
Daredevil #164 (Newsstand) - 1980 - Iconic Cover: $50
In awesome condition. Great colors on cover despite all the white. No spine ticks, creases, color breaks or bends.
Daredevil #184 Newsstand - 1982 - Iconic cover: $22
In fantastic condition. Newsstand variant that has been very well kept.
Astonishing Tales featuring Dr. Doom & Kazar #1 - 1970 - First issue in series: $15
In great condition. Great colors and quality. Doctor Doom.
Sub-Mariner #15 and #31 - Silver Age Namor bundle: $22
Great colors and interiors. Fading on spine cover on #15, #31 in great condition, see photos.
Fantastic Four #150 - 1974 - Wedding of Crystal and Quicksilver: $25
In awesome condition. No spine ticks, creases, color breaks or bends.
Tales to Astonish #58 - 1964 - Silver age Giant Man: $19
Worn condition but complete and attached. See photos.
DC
Green Lantern #59 - 1968 - First appearance of Guy Gardner: $115
Worn but complete. Attached at top staple, bottom staple detached.
Flash #113 - 1960 - First appearance and origin of the Trickster: $75
This one looks good until you realize it has tape up the spine holding the loose staples on. Included pictures of the staples and tape. It is complete and has good colors otherwise, but still low grade because of the tape/staple issue.
Flash #129 - 1962 - First team-up of golden age Flash and silver age Flash; first appearance of golden age Green Lantern and JSA in silver age: $90
Good condition! Very solid, great colors, complete and attached.
Flash #147 - 1964 - Second appearance of Professor Zoom: $90
Good condition! Very solid, great colors, complete and attached.
Aquaman #11 - 1963 - First appearance of Mera: $90
Worn condition but solid, complete and attached.
Action Comics #263 - 1960 - Last appearance of Bizarro world. End of Bizarro world not told. Not good deal.: $33
Cover has pen on it and is worn but interiors are good, complete and attached and colors are great.
Horror
Frankenstein #1, Marvel - 1973 - Fist appearance and origin of Frankenstein in Marvel comics: $35
Worn but complete, attached, and cool as all hell. See photos for condition. Could definitely use a cleaning. A hard to find book at this price.
Werewolf by Night #4 - 1972 - Introduction of the Darkhold: $20
Low grade, heavy wear on the cover front and back. Get a key at a steal!
Werewolf by Night #8 - 1973 - Has Mark Jewelers insert included: $26
Is in great shape and includes a Mark Jewelers insert making this regular issue a little more rare.
Werewolf by Night #18 - 1974 - $22
Worn condition but great colors. See photos.
Tomb of Dracula #18 -1974 - First battle of Dracula & Werewolf by Night: $32
Nice shape. Needs a press but is solid and colors are good.
Tomb of Dracula #27 and #63 - $23
Non-key issues in great condition, just throwing together to move.
Strange Tales #73 - 1960 - First appearance of Grottu, first appearance of ‘Frank’ who later becomes Ulysses Bloodstone. Great old horror in low grade: $20
Book is beat, see photos. But it’s an awesome piece of Marvel monster history. I’m only selling because I recently got a high grade copy and I’m selling at this price in hopes someone wants to give it a home in their PC.
Beware! #1 - 1973 - First issue reprints horror stories from Menace, Spellbound and Tales of Suspense: $25
Overall good shape. Solid book, some wear on the cover. But firmly intact and a great 1st issue.
Early Man-Thing lot: Astonishing Tales #13, Adventure into Fear #11-13: $80 (willing to split this lot up)
First cover appearance of Man-Thing, and 3rd appearance overall in awesome condition. The Fear 11-13 are in good condition, but a little more worn than the Astonishing.
House of Secrets #91 - 1971 - Iconic Neal Adams cover: $32
Book is in great condition. There is some minor chipping on a portion of the bottom edge of the cover but other than the wear on the cover it is a beautiful book.
Giant Size Chillers #1 - 1975 - John Romita art: $20
Not the more valuable 1974 with Drac but this is in awesome condition and still some great classic horror.
Tower of Shadows Annual #1 - 1971 - Romita cover and Neal Adams art: $25
Great condition. Good colors, solid book.
Dead of Night #1 - 1973 - Romita art: $35
Really great condition, with a minor color rub or stain or something (can’t tell what) to a spot on the bottom of the front cover and top of the back. Fantastic colors, white pages.
SCI-FI
Mystery in Space #68 - 1961 - 10c Comic Goodness: $25
Cover is detached, but hey, it’s a 10c comic. Otherwise good colors and pages.
Strange Adventures #138 - 1962: $18
Good condition, good colors.
Golden and Silver Age Lot of 12- $85
Came into a lot of worn golden and silver books I know little about. Would like to offload them all together, so take a look at the album. Includes Little Lulu, Cheyenne Kid, the Flintstones, Tarzan, some other Gold Key and Dell stuff and an Adventures book from 1945. Did some research to get prices, take a look.
Star Spangled War Stories #113 - 1964 -Bruh, they’re fighting pterodactyls: $17
In good shape. Some wear to the back cover and minor wear on the front. Great story and art.

You know what they say, if at first you don't succeed....... ehhhh something or another. You get the point!
(P.S. pictures of me on my profile)
Searching for the "one" isnt easy, but what can we do aye? First things first, to throw some random bits of info out there about me! (Info dump incoming 😂)
I'm 24 and biracial! Half Irish and half African/northern Indian, and I'm living in the UK!
I'm approximately 6'0"-6'1" in height and id say an average/kept build. I also have somewhat long-ish hair for a guy, going near my shoulders, it's naturally straight! I also have a well kept somewhat shorter and neat beard :) I also have very fair skin. I guess I took physically more from one side of my heritage 😂🤌 I'm also a Muslim lad! So just putting that out there too for the sake of it.
I do enjoy binging on junk food but between my high metabolism and my physically active job working as an electrician (which I'm trying to fully establish myself in) I tend to never put any weight on 🤷
So! What am I looking for? Well it's a long shot. I'd like to imagine something like the female version of myself. My other half. Someone I find attractive, kind, easy going, fun to get along with, can hold a conversation without making it feel like a one sided effort and chore. Etc!
Important note!!!
IF you are not from the UK. Be aware relocating doesn't appear to be an option for me currently 😅 so bear that in mind please. I am open to a potential long distance but again. There's that.
I guess I'm the hopeless romantic type. Fantasising about soulmates, something real, serious, natural and everything great. Is that easy to obtain these days? Bruh. HECK no 😭 but can a guy try? Well, here's to hoping I suppose. Guess only time will tell
Anyone between the ages of 20-27 is welcome! Anyone who wants to actually get to know each other and dreams about something sincere and real! (With some fun stupidity and jokes thrown in there of course, that banter is a must🗿👍)
I like a woman with a little bit of confidence ya know? Probably one of the most attractive personality traits, who can hold a conversation and engage with the other person you know? Nothing more off putting than someone who gives single worded dead replies lol
Here's a bit more about me. My hobbies! my hobbies are various. I'd argue I'm an ambivert. Though my main hobbies lean towards something a little more introverted. You have hiking and the likes as well as going out with friends and driving around at night with them, but then you also have gaming which is a huge hobby of mine!! Well probably the thing I do most consistently 😭
So yeah! There's my shot being let out. I'd say I consider myself to be an honest and open book and would like someone who is open, honest and sincere in the same way!
Oh! And my preferred platform is Snap (:
So. Here's to hoping!

You know what they say, if at first you don't succeed....... ehhhh something or another. You get the point!
(P.S. pictures of me on my profile)
Searching for the "one" isnt easy, but what can we do aye? First things first, to throw some random bits of info out there about me! (Info dump incoming 😂)
I'm 24 and biracial! Half Irish and half African/northern Indian, and I'm living in the UK!
I'm approximately 6'0"-6'1" in height and id say an average/kept build. I also have somewhat long-ish hair for a guy, going near my shoulders, it's naturally straight! I also have a well kept somewhat shorter and neat beard :) I also have very fair skin. I guess I took physically more from one side of my heritage 😂🤌 I'm also a Muslim lad! So just putting that out there too for the sake of it.
I do enjoy binging on junk food but between my high metabolism and my physically active job working as an electrician (which I'm trying to fully establish myself in) I tend to never put any weight on 🤷
So! What am I looking for? Well it's a long shot. I'd like to imagine something like the female version of myself. My other half. Someone I find attractive, kind, easy going, fun to get along with, can hold a conversation without making it feel like a one sided effort and chore. Etc!
Important note!!!
IF you are not from the UK. Be aware relocating doesn't appear to be an option for me currently 😅 so bear that in mind please. I am open to a potential long distance but again. There's that.
I guess I'm the hopeless romantic type. Fantasising about soulmates, something real, serious, natural and everything great. Is that easy to obtain these days? Bruh. HECK no 😭 but can a guy try? Well, here's to hoping I suppose. Guess only time will tell
Anyone between the ages of 20-27 is welcome! Anyone who wants to actually get to know each other and dreams about something sincere and real! (With some fun stupidity and jokes thrown in there of course, that banter is a must🗿👍)
I like a woman with a little bit of confidence ya know? Probably one of the most attractive personality traits, who can hold a conversation and engage with the other person you know? Nothing more off putting than someone who gives single worded dead replies lol
Here's a bit more about me. My hobbies! my hobbies are various. I'd argue I'm an ambivert. Though my main hobbies lean towards something a little more introverted. You have hiking and the likes as well as going out with friends and driving around at night with them, but then you also have gaming which is a huge hobby of mine!! Well probably the thing I do most consistently 😭
So yeah! There's my shot being let out. I'd say I consider myself to be an honest and open book and would like someone who is open, honest and sincere in the same way!
Oh! And my preferred platform is Snap (:
So. Here's to hoping!

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

My relationship doesn't have passion. I [27f] have been dating my bf [34M] for almost three years, living together for 2.5 years. We are best friends and almost never argue. We can talk about anything and sort through any disagreement with time and conversation. I love him very dearly and I see a life with him being very happy--we want the same things, want to live in the same places have the same lifestyle with travel and kids. BUT I don't feel any passion anymore after years of being shutdown when bidding for sex.
I have always had a higher sex drive than him. My ideal amount of sex would be 1-2 times weekly & his is about 1-2 times monthly. We usually have an average of 1x per month. Part of this is due to crazy schedules, I work full time and am in school part time and I sometimes travel for work, and part is that every time I bid for sex, he's not in the mood. He says that sex (specifically ejaculation) makes him tired for the next few days--this being due to his age. I find that hard to believe, as I know of others his age with great libido, but everyone's bodies are different and I am not a man in my 30's, so what do I know?
He claims we only have sex when he is the one that initiates bc he claims I never initiate sex, but that is blatantly not true. I make very clear and pointed attempts to turn him on and he just laughs me off. I've stopped trying in the last 1.5 years and I'm just happy whenever he initiates. He has even asked me why I stopped trying and I told him bc he shuts me down. I offset this with solo masturbation whenever I'm feeling horny, which he is okay with and even suggested.
In the last year, we have had many conversations about this and we have been trying different sex toys and other things to work on the issue together. I don't feel it's working very well. I think I am putting in most of the effort (finding toys, reading books, trying things to be sexy for him). Sometimes I think he feels it's a me problem, not a him problem, therefore I should put in more effort, or he just doesn't care enough.
Honestly, when we do have sex at this point, I think of other people who have been good lovers in my past. I would never cheat on my partner, but my imagination is not at all loyal. I once had a sex dream while on an airplane about the person sitting next to me.
I love him so much and I don't want to lose my very best friend, but I'm afraid I will never be fully happy in the relationship despite the mountain of amazing qualities he has and our overall compatibility. I'm afraid he has some emotional blocks about sex due to a strict catholic upbringing in Mexico.
There is the added layer that I am bisexual but I have limited experiences with women. I would like to explore that more, but I was willing to put that on pause when I started dating my bf because of how fast and hard I fell for him. He's suggested threesomes could help, but I think that would stress me out because I'm a people pleaser and I would be too anxious worrying if everyone else was having a good time. I don't think he'd be willing to let me explore that on my own, but I haven't asked due to him having a bad reaction to a tentative question about open relationships early on.
I feel terrible because we've been planning our life together. I own our house but he puts a lot of effort into maintaining and doing house work. We get along with each other's families really well and he hangs out with my mom to help her on the farm whenever he can. He's older than me and I think the pressures of age & starting a family weigh on him heavily.
Is it normal to feel this way in a long term relationship? Is his age really to blame for the lack of libido? Or are we better off experiencing heartbreak now to find something better down the road? How do I bring this up again?
I am young(ish) and hot. I want to feel worshipped in the bedroom, not like I have to work for both of our pleasure.
tl;dr My [27F] bf [34M] of 3 years claims he's too old to be having sex more than 1-2x per month & I have a high sex drive. Should we keep trying to find ways to make our bedroom spicier or just move on despite our amazing comparability in literally every other area?

TL/DR: family of 4 Filipinos, naturalized Australian citizens Pero dual citizenship holder. Weighing up whether a permanent move to Philippines is better than staying in Australia
Currently living in Australia as a chef and wife works in her own business as a domestic cleaner. We’re both earning enough money for basic needs: bills, mortgage, car and luho (2 times a month on average eating out) we have our small townhouse that we have just moved into (2 Years old) were not struggling but we’re essentially pay check to pay check. Kids aged 9 and 10 have school friends but still new and not long term friends yet. We can sell the house and net around $200,000 profit approx 7 million and move back to philippines.
Philippines: have a small lot paid for and another lot for investment/hobby farm. We would love to batangas where my wife’s extended family are based. Out of the 7 million approx P3 million will be for the house, 500,000 each for kids savings, about 500,000 for misc. (solar panels, paperwork) 500,000 for small businesses like food business, ukay ukay, e-commerce business, whatever else we can do.
I’ll also work from home in a call centre that my brother in law can help me with P5,000 base per week and my wife can teach English online again about P5,000 per week as well.
Is it better to stay in Australia or try our luck in Philippines for a simpler and debt free lifestyle? Also, to clarify, I’m not looking to retire. I completely understand that the cost of living is high hence the multiple income streams. We’re contemplating it purely out of a lifestyle decision for our children. We can also always go back to Australia if it doesn’t work out. What would you do?

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

Hi, this is my first time posting on Reddit. I just need to vent some frustration.
I'm currently attending a well-respected university. Our department is pretty small, with only around 1,000 students across all four years. My boyfriend (we've been together since first year, during online classes) is 22, and I'm 20. Building on what I mentioned, my boyfriend and our Dean (34F & a single mom) are family friends, but their friendship seems to have blossomed during the return to in-person classes. She, along with many others, knows my boyfriend and I are together. It's pretty common knowledge—I'm involved in a lot of student organizations and consistently make the dean's list, so many professors and students recognize me.
During face to face classes, After our 2 PM classes, my boyfriend would usually take me home. Sometimes we'd grab a date, but other days he'd just crash at my place for a nap then uuwi siya (at least, that's what I thought). Napapansin ko, palagi silang magka chat and he doesn’t even call her ma’am or miss, first name basis sila. At first, I just brushed it off. I mean, come on, she's way out of his league, age-wise, and super respected pa. But, lagi niya inuutusan si BF—utos dito, utos doon. He practically lives in her office na running errands like chauffeuring her around in her car or his. I tried to be cool about it, but the jealousy's creeping in. TAKE NOTE: he won’t let me open his phone or hold his phone pero okay lang sakin kasi sobrang tiwala naman ako sakanya.
Gaano sila ka close? For example:
It was a school break, so we barely saw each other. But it was our monthsary, and we'd planned this date for ages. I was so hyped, all dressed up, and we were having a great time until...he slams on the brakes and says our dean needs a ride. Apparently, she got into a small accident, and no one else can drive her car? Seriously? My heart sank. He ditched our date to chauffeur her around, and I ended up back at home, alone, in my fancy dress.
December (NEW YEAR) at 12 am: he told me matutulog na siya kasi lasing na daw. Turns out, a friend of mine spotted him smooching some chick at a bar. Sinend sakin yung video the next morning pero diko makita yung face ni girl kasi naka lean siya sa neck ni bf. I confronted him about it pero sabi niya someone daw na kilala niya dati. (Grabe siya mang gaslight, grabe siya mag sinungaling). Even before the New Year's Eve incident, there were red flags I ignored, marami na nagsasabi sakin na he’s up to no good but I used to think trusting people meant shutting out outside opinions, especially when they painted him in a bad light. I wanted to believe the best in him, even if he looked like a walking "fboy stereotype." Blind trust turned into heartbreak. This whole situation has been a wake-up call. My self-worth is important, and I can't let anyone walk all over me. So yeah, we broke up.
But last week ko lang nalaman, Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, his best friend throws another grenade into the situation. He confessed that my boyfriend manipulated me from the very beginning, and there was more to their "friendship" than meets the eye. After nya pala ako ihatid samin, he would go back to school to be with our dean. The woman he cheated on me with last December? Our freaking Dean. And get this - turns out there was already something going on between them even before that. I feel so betrayed, like everything he ever told me was a lie. It's disgusting. I’ve heard pa nga na they’re officially together na ngayon and ayaw daw ni Dean na lumalapit sakin si boy, or sumama even with our friends (we’re classmates btw). Medyo all out na rin sila sa relationship nila. The Dean's behavior is actually frankly concerning. She shows up at every off-campus basketball game, sitting on the player's bench and cheering him on, completely disregarding the professional boundaries. It's no wonder rumors are flying around our department na.
But yah, With her being the Dean, it terrifies me that my grades or academic standing could be affected by all this personal drama. I don't care about their relationship, I just want to focus on my studies and not have this mess spill over into my academic life.

So I (17M) was at a friend's birthday party, I only knew the birthday girl (not super well tbh), her boyfriend, and one other friend who had to leave early bc of work. I was fully expecting to be bored to death and then go home early, just like I did with the same party last year. I spent the first bit by myself with this toy axe-throwing thing that also had throwing stars (idrk how to explain it), and I was actually surprisingly good at it.
After several minutes of this, this girl (16F) comes over and goes "mind if I join you?" So we played a few games together, we introduced ourselves to each other, and she invited me to join her circle of humans under a tent. I got to interact with a lot of people that I normally wouldn't (*introvert noises*). The girl (let's call her [A]) and I talked a lot more throughout the afternoon/evening, and I found out that she is bi (so there's no sexuality barrier), and that she's one grade below me (junior and sophomore in HS, no weird age gaps).
She also doesn't go to my school, so she doesn't immediately think of me as the weird Rubik's cube kid who doesn't really talk to other humans. I think this really enabled me to be myself around her. The party went from 2:30-8, and I thought I would dip at like 5 or 5:30. I ended up staying until 9 (the birthday girl invited everyone to stay an extra hour, just for funsies).
By the time I left, it was just me, her, and two other people I knew from school there, so I was like "alr I'll see you two (gesturing to the people from my school) in school, and I will see you (gesturing towards A)... never again... unless you want to exchange contact information question mark?" So now I have her phone number. So glad I asked, because I would definitely regret it if I didn't.
And to think I thought that would suck, and that I would just go home early like last year.

We are two daughters of our parents. My father is a business man. He has always been dominating and had the audacity to raise hand on my mother. He had that arrogance of providing us with food and stuff. Though he gave us good education, he was very restrictive and strict. There was no TV, we were not allowed to go out with our friends, we were not allowed to invite our friends at home too and much more. I am a younger one. I use to be good in studies. I use to be an obedient child and always made sure to make my parents proud. On the contrary, my elder sister was average in studies. Even there were 1000 restrictions on us, my sister did some blunders in past like bunk school or having male friends (which obviously we were not allowed to at all). She once was caught with a phone (it was her friend's phone) when she was in 10th class and my mother beat her so bad. She promised that she needs to mend her ways otherwise she will tell our dad. But my sister got so scared that she attempted suicide. But by god's grace, she was saved. I just can't forget that day. This way you might get a glimpse at what level we were afraid of him. My mother never raised voice against my father even after physical abuse. I remember the days when i use to sit outside their room for hours and hours during night with a pillow as they use to fight. I use to be scared what if something happens wrong, though i never has the courage to stop them. I thought that this might be disrespectful. Many nights i just use to sit outside their room with a pillow and when they get to sleep, i use to go back to my room and sleep. When I was 17-18 years old, my father made a plan to thailand with this friends. We were not so happy as we also wanted to go for a trip. Anyhow, not seeing our reaction, he planned. Our mother never had an issue with this as our father use to bribe her with some gold or something (she was fond of jewelry). Also, he never treated our mother right (especially during trips-physical abuse or marital rape we can say) so she use to avoid going out. I myself sensed this thing many times. I use to share bed with them when any relatives use to come to our place. I use to sense him asking for sex and then my mother denying. He use to hold her from neck and that use to rip me apart but i never had the courage to stop him. So yeah, he travelled to thailand and cam back home. One fine day, he asked me and my sister to delete our the unnecessary photos and videos from him phone. I took the phone and started deleting. The next thing i saw was a video and i trembled. We saw a video of my father dancing with a girl in a hotel room. I WAS JUST SO SCARED. Phone fell from my hand. It was a long video, but i only saw 5-6 secs of it. Me and my sister deleted the video and never told anyone about it. We ourselves also never discussed it with anyone. My father use to click pictures with air hostesses and some random girls that he met in thailand. He use to post those pictures as no one had the courage to say him anything on this face. Punjabi people, especially men find it very normal but not normal if any women does it. Years passed, my sister turned 23. One day my sister got caught with a boy in a hotel room. She told that she had a bf who was 5-6 elder from him and was involved in a travel agency job. He belonged to a service class family, average looking and middle class background. My father refused. He met the guy and was not happy. Proper blackmailing like you broke my trust, how can you find a bf, it is our responsibility to find one for you etc started. She was tortured. She was made sit at home for one year. All household work was done by her and she was always taunted. They turned everything hell for her. I also was not able to do anything as I had no idea how could i help. Even i didn't had that mind to understand if she was right or no. When she turned 24-25, marriage talks popped up. My father found a rich business class guy for her. We all were happy and she got married in two months. Thankfully it turned out good for her that she got to get out from this home. I started having problem with my father here. He use to pretend such a nice guy infront of everyone. He use to portray that he is the nicest man and can do anything for her family. Though deep inside we were aware he is the worst person who beats up his wife, makes every little thing work as per his own choice, does not give a fuck about his daughters and does not respect. Every other person started thinking that he is such a gentleman and my mother is arrogant which was not true. My father is a business man and knows how to talk in a group of people and how to pretend. My mother on other hand, is introvert, so some might think of her as an arrogant person. He started gifting expensive stuff to my sister's in laws place to make himself look good. And when we use to ask for money and stuff, he never gave us enough to meet our needs. We always use to compromise. Never wore brand or never went to good place for dinners etc but they were gifted brands, thousand and lakhs of money were given to them, though they never demanded and always use to say no to those gifts. At this stage, my age came of getting married. And my perspective for my father changed. Whenever my marriage talk popped up, it use to scare the shit out of me. I started thinking what if my partner turned out to be just like my father. What i will do where will i go and how will i manage everything. Because i was aware once i get married, there is no turning back. I have to make that marriage work no matter what happens. My parents will never support me or take me back if my partner turns out to be bad. They will ask me to accept it saying it is your destiny. When it comes to marriage, every girl try to sees her father's characteristics in her to be husband. And when i use to imagine, i started running away from the word of marriage. I just got scared that every other men is like him who is dominating, disrespectful and raise his hands on his wives. I tried to escape from it saying i want to pursue my studies. On the other hand, I met a wonderful guy. I never thought i would fall for a guy like him. He is a goofy guy with a good heart. He is a senior manager in a government bank. The man of my dreams, i never ever met guy in my life who was so nice and kind to talk. Though i had few male friends, i never felt like that for them. I opened my heart and my mind infront of him. I shared everything with him, even those things which i never use to think of alone or which use to scare the shit out of me. Now the problems comes. He is basically from Himachal Pradesh, further from a small town, a very simple family. Our teva also doesn't matches. We belong to a upper business class family. I talked about this with my father and mother and my god, it turned out so bad. He threatened me saying he will boycott me and ask my sister and other relatives too to cut me off. I don't want to lose touch with my sister as she is the only one who i have. She also cannot do anything for me. I love him alot and we cannot live without each other. My sister's husband is nice but he will also not approve of him because he also has that richie rich mentality. I don't have anyone's support and now i feel suicidal. I don't know what to do and where to go #pleasehelp