Lakshmi mittal daughter wedding photos
Exclusive: How a Nigerian king who Harry hailed as one of his 'new in-laws' is a conman twice deported from America, with a lengthy criminal record and a distinctly murky past…
2024.05.19 17:39 Mehgan-Faux Exclusive: How a Nigerian king who Harry hailed as one of his 'new in-laws' is a conman twice deported from America, with a lengthy criminal record and a distinctly murky past…
 | Excerpts from the article: submitted by Mehgan-Faux to DlistedRoyals [link] [comments] Taking the microphone, Prince Harry gestured towards the Nigerian royals ranged before him, playfully calling them his 'in-laws'. It brought laughter from his audience. 'I'll skip the protocol because at this point we're all family,' the duke added, to more guffaws. On reflection, though, maybe it wasn't such a big joke after all. The House of Windsor may have cut the Sussexes adrift but in Lagos last Sunday wealthy rulers bearing gifts and titles were effectively competing to claim Meghan for their own royal families. … The Mail on Sunday reveals today that one of the kings is a convicted fraudster who was twice kicked out of the United States. The venue for what one guest described as Meghan's 'unofficial crowning' was a flashy fifth floor restaurant in the coastal mega-city's latest boutique hotel. Hardly the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace but there was a red carpet, fanfare trumpets –and no shortage of ceremony. … Not to be outdone, meanwhile, Oba Abdulrasheed Adewale Akanbi, the 56-year-old Oluwo of Iwoland in Western Nigeria, then took centre stage. Microphone in hand, he turned to Meghan – who was walked down the aisle on her wedding day by King Charles – and said: 'Thank God you are one of us.' Four years ago, a letter from a lawyer representing the Association of Iwoland Indigenes in Diaspora (AIID) accused him of 'conducting himself in manners which are antithetical to that of a monarch in any clime and very unbecoming of a Yoruba Oba'. It said he assaulted another monarch Dhikrulahi Akinropo of Ogbagba during a 'peace meeting' to settle a land dispute. But Akanbi said that Akinropo had interrupted his speech and tried to attack him with his golden staff of office. 'He started calling me unprintable names, pointing his staff of office at me while attempting to stick the staff into my eyes,' said Akanbi. 'I heavily rejected it with a force he could not withstand.' Much worse was to come from others, though, including his ex-wife Chanel Chin, the daughter of a Jamaican reggae star, who has called him a 'devil' and publicly accused him of sexual assault. The letter from the AIID to a state governor accuses Akanbi of shamefully 'misrepresenting the interests of Iwoland' and causing so many 'controversies' that it is hard to 'imagine he ascended the throne'. It says: 'Our clients have several reported cases of intimidation, harassments and acts of subjecting the poor indigenes of Iwoland to all sort of threats.' |
2024.05.19 17:27 old_monk33 Really need good advice from you guyz.What should I do right now?26M & 24F
I am 26M', and she is 23F. We are friends from 2015. Started dating after 2019.We are pretty serious with each other. Even our families are involved. A few months ago, she confessed that she became close with a another guy. Not a dating type; just get emotionally connected, share every day-to-day activity, and meet once too. She told me everything in November, and we sorted things out a little, or at least tried to. Last month, she said she needed a break to realise everything again. Difficulty, I accepted everything and follow the no contact strategy.So,after the break, she said sorry and told me that they continued talking until last month, and she didn't bear the guilt, so she took a break to realise the bond between me and her. She asked for my forgiveness, and she said she would regain trust if I give her a chance.Her monther called me too and asked to sort things out and my daughter really loves you a lot. I am totally blended right now. What should I do, and what will be the right decision for me? I really love her a lot.But I am thinking about my future too.Can I love her the same way or she will love me the same way? Here, my mom is asking for the wedding time too. I just don't want to share this story with my family. They will hate her eventually.She said she will call me every night and talk with me over phone more than 1 hr everyday.She's doing that too but she not behaving like before .We became a little bit stranger to ourselves too.I have no cheating history too and we were loyal to each other also.
Please help me, guys! What should I do now?
I am from a South Asian Country.Don't to it's relevant or not
submitted by old_monk33 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
Please help me, guys! What should I do now?
I am from a South Asian Country.Don't to it's relevant or not
2024.05.19 17:22 Making_flowers [US-MD] [H] MORE KEYS, MORE PRICE DROPS, MORE INVENTORY, including ASM, X-Men, Batman, Wolverine, DC, silver age, golden age, horror, you name it I have it. MUCH easier navigation, too! [W] PayPal
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
X-Men #39 - 1967 - Debut of the new X-Men costumes: $85
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.
submitted by Making_flowers to comicswap [link] [comments]
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 - $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
- 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 #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
- 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
- Green Lantern #59 - $115
- Flash #113 - $75
- Flash #129 - $90
- Flash #147 - $90
- Aquaman #11 - $90
- Action Comics #263 - $33
- 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
- Mystery in Space #68 - $25
- Strange Adventures #138 - $18
- Golden and Silver Age Lot of 12- $85
- Star Spangled War Stories #113 - $17
X-Men
X-Men #39 - 1967 - Debut of the new X-Men costumes: $85
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.
2024.05.19 17:15 admin16684 Wife does everything I want and won't let me do things on my own.
Been together for 16 years, married like 5. It constantly feels like my wife doesn't ever want to do anything but will do whatever I propose for date nights and such. I'm a very active person and money isn't an issue so enjoy doing things constantly. Over the past couple years I kinda stopped directing and basically we'd do nothing,
I finally gave up and said we need to do a few things a week, idc what and also travel at least 2 weekends a month. So we've been doing things but it seems like I'm dragging her along and many times she complains about xyz.
On top of all this I can't really do things on my own. Most of our friends are getting married and having kids so never have time to hangout and when they do its us together. Then if I try to just go do something on my own she complains that she can't come with me... even though she doesn't want to. If I want to go out of town for a weekend, it becomes me just leaving her home.
I'm at the point in my life where we're our daughters in college so empty nesters and we're wealthy to the point we don't need to work anymore. I grinded this entire time building companies and focusing on family that I don't have much of a personal life/friends anymore and now ready to live life.
So today I told her that she needs to figure out what she wants out of life and I'm moving out, which now she feels like her entire life is crumbling because she's become so attached to me that I can't breath
submitted by admin16684 to Marriage [link] [comments]
I finally gave up and said we need to do a few things a week, idc what and also travel at least 2 weekends a month. So we've been doing things but it seems like I'm dragging her along and many times she complains about xyz.
On top of all this I can't really do things on my own. Most of our friends are getting married and having kids so never have time to hangout and when they do its us together. Then if I try to just go do something on my own she complains that she can't come with me... even though she doesn't want to. If I want to go out of town for a weekend, it becomes me just leaving her home.
I'm at the point in my life where we're our daughters in college so empty nesters and we're wealthy to the point we don't need to work anymore. I grinded this entire time building companies and focusing on family that I don't have much of a personal life/friends anymore and now ready to live life.
So today I told her that she needs to figure out what she wants out of life and I'm moving out, which now she feels like her entire life is crumbling because she's become so attached to me that I can't breath
2024.05.19 16:59 Jlynneknight Can you help me get clarity? I need to see him for the next 12 years.....
I I guess I'm looking for validation that this is textbook, and I am looking at this correctly. I guess that is the effect of being gaslit - you don’t know your reality is really your reality. But I am here, and asking for help, because I will need to see him for the next 12 years (our kids go to the same school). This will be in passing and at events, but I am traumatized, still recovering, and just scared. I am looking for some insights because I spent about 2 months trying to fit my story into a box of emotional and narcissistic abuse…. But it's not that....I see that now. If you are able to share tidbits of knowledge, or point me in the direction of more clarity, I would appreciate it so much. Thank you so so much.
I am going to write out the cliff notes. I imagine a lot of you can fill in the parts I leave out as from what I read on here, it’s typical.
I met him walking my kid to school. He walked the same way every day. Over time, we became friends, and I learned he was trying to leave his marriage. Once he did, the relationship happened fast – too fast. He seemed so 100 percent sure of me and it was odd. I often looked disheveled walking to school and tired….I am not sure what he saw in me. But, I felt sure of him too, but wanted to go slower. I tried to slow it down, but at the same time, didn't. I am responsible for that. I felt like a hamster on a wheel after a few weeks and was able to tell him that I need the weekdays for myself, for my work, and for my kid. He seemed to respect that.
But he often romanticized the first few weeks together....even in the last days.
Quickly, I started to notice the emotional dysregulation. There was a lot going on for him: moving out, going through the divorce, parenting, work….so I understood it. I was also still getting to know him. Then severe trauma responses and triggers started happening. They would lead to these large child-like reactions with a lot of tears and anger. I didn't understand it but knew enough to know he had trauma to work through, and perhaps was feeling it for the first time. Each time this happened, there was nothing I could say to help or get him out of it, he would blame me a lot and say I was the cause, and he expected me (without saying it) to be there for him 110% even though I couldn’t. And truthfully, I didn’t want to….I wanted him to be able to handle that for himself or realize it was an issue. I didn't have the tools to deal with it and suggested he try deeper therapy. He agreed.
When he first met with the therapist, she told him it is like a virus takes over his brain and he is convinced in those moments. That was music to my ears at the time. But that is the last time I felt that way.
After a few months of this cycle continuing, I started detoriating. First my mental health, and then my physical health. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like we couldn’t go a few days without him reacting to something small. I wrote in my journal many times “there's no amount of validation I can give this person.”
I didn't point it to excessive adoration and validation, I could not see that really, but if he texted me 5 things and I responded to all 4 logistical ones and ended with "love you too" I was chastised. If I was driving and did not respond to an “i love you,” I was called out for it. At the end of October, I told him I needed the weekend to clean my apartment. It happened to be 60 degrees that day and of course, I would have preferred to be outside, but I am an adult and could not blow off my commitment to myself to clean. That day he messaged me 18 times that me missed me. He kept inviting me out. I kept asking him to stop, because clearly I would prefer to do something else than clean, but needed to. The missing was excessive. I didn’t even know what he meant. We lived next door to eachother. That night, I had to work, and he was upset with me because to him, it was optional and I should have chose to see him.
There were so many moments when he wanted so much comfort I couldn't provide. We were both single parents. That kind of affection goes to my kid....and I couldn't give it to him in that way. He would even want the affection when he hurt me.
He would see my daughter freak out at me and then say that I don’t love her enough, and he would joke they are the same….
It wasn’t a joke?
As time went on, and his therapy went on, and he felt validated by the therapist, the blame came on more and never left. It started in August, and even when I'd get an apology, it would be for the impact (what I'm responsible for) and not his intent. He'd argue with me over seeing his intent clearly. I'd say I don't care about your intent, you're killing me. It didn’t matter, nothing did.
I never felt like we could repair any incidents. As the blame went on, I really questioned myself. I wondered if he was right. What if I don't love enough? What if I don't receive love well? I've been in therapy for 20 years and know I have limitations but I'm not an asshole…
I felt coerced a lot of the time.
I felt he wanted me to change a lot....he wanted me to be less blunt, more loving, more balanced, work less even though he was awful with money, have sex when sick, injured or mentally dead from the day, always be happy to see him, don't be affected by the trauma responses and don't try to talk to him about it, don't take space and if I do, prepare for some kind of punishment, love him and miss him endlessly, do everything together, if I am dysregulated, he wanted me to regulate with him….
I noticed I started taking precautions to keep myself dafe. I didn’t realize I was setting boundaries to prevent the abuse but I was. I’d say I was busy when I wasn’t. I wouldn’t accept or ask him to get me from the airport, knowing I would not be 100% happy after a flight and that would cause a fight (as it did). I didn’t ask for help, and when I did ask for help, I would expect the help to not happen. I did not communicate anything he did “wrong” (like, you said you would drop off quarters for laundry on monday….do you have them?)
There were a lot of moments we would have deep conversations and I felt like we were getting somewhere, that he heard me.
I'll fast forward to the end because this is already way longer than I wanted….and it’s sad that I know it could be so much longer.
In the last month, he reacted and blamed me for everything. There were at least 5 major incidents. After the last one, I told him I was done. It was really bad and left me spending $50 to uber home in the snow, when I could barley walk as is (I had a herniated disc in my back and could barley walk). That month, I lost health insurance, and after begging for time to just take care of the injury, he told me we need intensive couples counseling. I had asked to just continue our therapist until we could change. That wasn't enough. The next weekend he asked me to go to a Gottman weekend. I said I couldn't leave my kid to do that right now and needed to take care of my help.
After that snow episode, that was really bad, laced with blame in the unpacking, I said I'm done, I can't do it. I was crying uncontrollably. I was scared. I really did not know who I was speaking to. After an hour, right when I needed to leave, he snapped out of whatever mindset he was in and told me he'd do anything, that he would work on anything, to please stay. I had to go, I could not think anymore. So in desperation, the only thing I asked for was to go alone on a trip with my daughter. He was scheduled to come with us. I said I needed time just with her. He agreed.
And honestly, he held up his end of the bargain....until he didn't.
3 days before the trip everything fell apart. I worked 12 hours that day and at the end of the day, went to pour water in a cup at home. It was the only time we had together before I left for the week. He hugged me from behind while I was pouring the water (....remember herniated disc in my back). I asked him to please stop and just let me have a second to pour the water.
He said "there's no turning back from this" and got his stuff to leave. I was floored. I was so upset because I knew where this was going - the blame game. He left, wouldn't come back, and then continued to blame me for the next 2 days about how I was an asshole the days before, only spent time with him out of obligation (not true), and rewrote history. I had a stomach bug all weekend and could not eat, but still tried to hang out as much as I reasonably could, and that was not enough.
The water incident was Wednesday, Thursday he had therapy and reinforced the blame, and I ended up leaving without saying goodbye. It was a week. I wanted to believe this relationship could survive a week. But I was clear with him days before: I am working up until I need to leave Friday so I can have real time off with my kid. He was upset I did not find him to say goodbye, even though he made no attempt to make peace earlier. But of course, my fault.
That night, he claimed down. Was nice. But it was a trap. After 12 hours of him being nice in text he said he was only doing it hoping I felt remorse and realized how wrong I was. He told me over and over he wouldn't see it differently. He said he read the transcript of our texts to 2 therapists and his friends and it’s clear: I am wrong. May be important to name here that we are both in our late 30’s.
I said that I want to work this out and I'll talk when we can actually discuss it and I'm willing to hear his side but not willing to blindly take all responsibility. He nailed me on every response, telling me how wrong my response was and what I should have done differently.
I was with my kid and could not talk. When I said "why are you doing this now, you know I can’t really respond" he told me to stop avoiding.
That night, he ghosted me for the first time in the relationship and I panicked. I called him a few times. No answer.
The next day, despite him never doing that to me before, he called me controlling for calling.
At 7am the next morning he told me our relationship was over in a text. This man, who 7 days before was professing his love and understanding of me ended the engagement in a text. This of course continued with a back and forth. I asked him to please stop. To please pause and talk to me when i'm back in 5 days. He told me to fight for the relationship or it was over. I said “I am just waking up with my 7 year old, in a hotel, please stop.” I asked him to attend couples therapy in 3 days to talk this out. He said “you accept all responsibility and change your behavior or we are done.” I asked if he was willing to talk and he said the problem was my perception and that it's wrong, so unless I change we are done. I knew this wasn't ok but I was so blindsided I did not know what to do. He agreed to go to couples therapy Thursday. We barley talked. There were a few more messages of him telling me he needs to know I can live a drama free life and celebrate his love and see it all as beautiful (almost verbatim). At this point, all I wanted to do is keep the dial down. I pushed back saying, “I cannot teach my daughter that someone can just tell her that her emotions and feelings are wrong, I hope you will be willing to talk and we can get on the same page.”
He agreed to go to couples therapy, and then didn't show up. He texted me 10 minutes before saying he was not going. I begged and pleaded. But he had the couples therapist to tell me he wasn't going to go. He had her tell me. I lost it. I lost my mind. I had been reeling for days. Not sleeping. Putting on a fake smile all day with my kid while I was dying inside. Staying up late to cry, process, read, figure out wtf was going on…
I called him about 10 times and of course, he told me it was inappropriate. He then picked up and gave me 10 minutes. He again wanted me to take all responsibility for everything. I was so shaken, I just fawned. I said ok. When I'm back I hope we can talk but if you want me to accept blame for now, fine.
Everything was calmer for 2 days until we were heading back and he texted me something along the lines of "don't fool me" I was like wtf? He said "there's no turning back. There's no other chances." I was like wait what? And then it was "don't make me look like a fool" I had no idea what was going on. I was like "um what is this?" He essentially was reinforcing his stance: I am to blame for everything in the present and past. If I try to talk to him about his side I'm wrong. I need to repent and one wrong move (defined by him) is a misstep and there's no room for error (his words). I was like....I will be in a relationship based in reality, and I will own my part and parts, but i will not be in something that i'm to blame for everything. That is not healthy. I have also been in abusive relationships before.
He then stopped messaging me. Didn't care that we got into flight issues. Didn't care we made the flight back. That night he came over and was a victim. Claimed in the 5 days I was gone he found himself. That he wasn't focused at work because of me and now he is. He wanted to try to be together. I had no idea what reality I was in. We slept together. He left. And told me we'd talk the next day. All of this felt so weird but I was just hoping he would snap out of this and back to reality and we would be able to talk. But I also knew this had to end at this point.
The next day, he didn't answer me all day. This was the opposite of behavior I ever experienced from him. Did not respond to texts or pick up the phone. We had a training appointment and he had the trainer tell me he wasn't coming. I broke down in tears. I begged him to just answer a text. He didn't. He drove by me while walking the dog and did not stop. I emailed him, expressing my confusion, telling him this is not what we agreed to. He blocked me. That night I got an email from him letting me know he was moving 10 min away. He lived next door in another apt building. He actually assured me the day before he “was not going anywhere.” In that email, he listed out the calls and texts I sent and how inappropriate it was. He never said we were done. He said taking space, needing space…so in my head I was confused but see it now.
I was inconsolable. I didn’t respond.
But here is the issue I am still in: I needed to see him dropping his kid at school the next day. I will need to see him for the next 12 years unless I move.
The following Friday he stood next to me at a school event. I purposely stood in the back to have space and be able to leave if I needed to. He went next to me. When I told him he should sit, he said he didn't want to make it obvious to his ex wife. I asked him to speak that Friday. He said ok but he was moving. I cried instantly. Already? I said ok.
On Saturday am, I saw the truck pull up and left the house. I called him that Saturday. I was blocked.
The next wednesday he asked me for a series of logistics in a text. None of which I handled yet. Wanting me to cancel flights and settle up money spent together. No mention or responsibility for all the money wasted on tickets we will never use. But then…in the text, asked for my engagement ring back.
I responded to logistics. Not the ring
He then called me 3 hours later because something went really wrong in his legal case. He wanted me to understand and validate him. I did....I just turned off my feelings for a moment. At the end he said, so about the flights. Can you handle it? "If i cancel it for you and your son i also have to do it for me and my kid. It's all on the same reservation" "well if you can go and not make sexual advances on me then we can try to go together.” I was like wtf? I could not have sex for months due to my injury. But he wanted to. Was this way of setting up blame that if we DID sleep together I would be to blame? I was like “I will cancel it for all of us.”
He then ran down more logistics and I said honestly you didn't seem done. I don't understand what you're doing. He said "im done" i hung up the phone.
He asked me for the ring again that night in a text. I said no, I need time to process this.
Everything since then has been a transaction. If i have a genuine emotion, he gets upset that i have it at all. He continues to sit next to me at school events because he claims he does not want his ex-wife to think we are done (this is insane to me….). I realize now that if it is a “good” interaction he is happy. If I am sad, then it is a “bad” one.
He never told his son we broke up, and shamed me for telling my daughter.
Recently he asked me a question and I was annoyed, and he said "can you not be mad at me?" I said “no, I can't not be mad at you…”
In the last 3 months, he’s said "I don't want to confuse things" has come up a lot. I don’t know if he is saying that to me or himself.
I have been so stuck trying to understand how I could not take space at all from him, to being totally discarded. I know he went back to spending, and drinking, but I don’t think he is seeing anyone.
He only responds when he wants to. He ignores other things. I never was able to get an MRI for my back because the claim went through a DR he set up for me and he never sent me the info when I asked.
I got the money back he owed me, but still lost so much money.
He told me he missed me one time.
I don’t know who this person is.
I will have to see him for the next 12 years while the kids are in school unless I move. I am not going to move just to avoid him, but I need to heal so I can be strong enough. I don’t know if he is going to try to come back. I have been in therapy and am getting clearer about what brought me into this in the first place.
Any clarity you can help me with, on this, and what may come from here, would be really helpful. It will help me direct some of my searches and begin to piece things together to process in therapy. I have severe anxiety when I run into him at school.
I have never had to heal from something like this before. At first, I thought it was healing from a narcissistic discard….this feels like so much more.
Does it sound like he will want to come back?
Is there ever closure?
submitted by Jlynneknight to BPDlovedones [link] [comments]
I am going to write out the cliff notes. I imagine a lot of you can fill in the parts I leave out as from what I read on here, it’s typical.
I met him walking my kid to school. He walked the same way every day. Over time, we became friends, and I learned he was trying to leave his marriage. Once he did, the relationship happened fast – too fast. He seemed so 100 percent sure of me and it was odd. I often looked disheveled walking to school and tired….I am not sure what he saw in me. But, I felt sure of him too, but wanted to go slower. I tried to slow it down, but at the same time, didn't. I am responsible for that. I felt like a hamster on a wheel after a few weeks and was able to tell him that I need the weekdays for myself, for my work, and for my kid. He seemed to respect that.
But he often romanticized the first few weeks together....even in the last days.
Quickly, I started to notice the emotional dysregulation. There was a lot going on for him: moving out, going through the divorce, parenting, work….so I understood it. I was also still getting to know him. Then severe trauma responses and triggers started happening. They would lead to these large child-like reactions with a lot of tears and anger. I didn't understand it but knew enough to know he had trauma to work through, and perhaps was feeling it for the first time. Each time this happened, there was nothing I could say to help or get him out of it, he would blame me a lot and say I was the cause, and he expected me (without saying it) to be there for him 110% even though I couldn’t. And truthfully, I didn’t want to….I wanted him to be able to handle that for himself or realize it was an issue. I didn't have the tools to deal with it and suggested he try deeper therapy. He agreed.
When he first met with the therapist, she told him it is like a virus takes over his brain and he is convinced in those moments. That was music to my ears at the time. But that is the last time I felt that way.
After a few months of this cycle continuing, I started detoriating. First my mental health, and then my physical health. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like we couldn’t go a few days without him reacting to something small. I wrote in my journal many times “there's no amount of validation I can give this person.”
I didn't point it to excessive adoration and validation, I could not see that really, but if he texted me 5 things and I responded to all 4 logistical ones and ended with "love you too" I was chastised. If I was driving and did not respond to an “i love you,” I was called out for it. At the end of October, I told him I needed the weekend to clean my apartment. It happened to be 60 degrees that day and of course, I would have preferred to be outside, but I am an adult and could not blow off my commitment to myself to clean. That day he messaged me 18 times that me missed me. He kept inviting me out. I kept asking him to stop, because clearly I would prefer to do something else than clean, but needed to. The missing was excessive. I didn’t even know what he meant. We lived next door to eachother. That night, I had to work, and he was upset with me because to him, it was optional and I should have chose to see him.
There were so many moments when he wanted so much comfort I couldn't provide. We were both single parents. That kind of affection goes to my kid....and I couldn't give it to him in that way. He would even want the affection when he hurt me.
He would see my daughter freak out at me and then say that I don’t love her enough, and he would joke they are the same….
It wasn’t a joke?
As time went on, and his therapy went on, and he felt validated by the therapist, the blame came on more and never left. It started in August, and even when I'd get an apology, it would be for the impact (what I'm responsible for) and not his intent. He'd argue with me over seeing his intent clearly. I'd say I don't care about your intent, you're killing me. It didn’t matter, nothing did.
I never felt like we could repair any incidents. As the blame went on, I really questioned myself. I wondered if he was right. What if I don't love enough? What if I don't receive love well? I've been in therapy for 20 years and know I have limitations but I'm not an asshole…
I felt coerced a lot of the time.
I felt he wanted me to change a lot....he wanted me to be less blunt, more loving, more balanced, work less even though he was awful with money, have sex when sick, injured or mentally dead from the day, always be happy to see him, don't be affected by the trauma responses and don't try to talk to him about it, don't take space and if I do, prepare for some kind of punishment, love him and miss him endlessly, do everything together, if I am dysregulated, he wanted me to regulate with him….
I noticed I started taking precautions to keep myself dafe. I didn’t realize I was setting boundaries to prevent the abuse but I was. I’d say I was busy when I wasn’t. I wouldn’t accept or ask him to get me from the airport, knowing I would not be 100% happy after a flight and that would cause a fight (as it did). I didn’t ask for help, and when I did ask for help, I would expect the help to not happen. I did not communicate anything he did “wrong” (like, you said you would drop off quarters for laundry on monday….do you have them?)
There were a lot of moments we would have deep conversations and I felt like we were getting somewhere, that he heard me.
I'll fast forward to the end because this is already way longer than I wanted….and it’s sad that I know it could be so much longer.
In the last month, he reacted and blamed me for everything. There were at least 5 major incidents. After the last one, I told him I was done. It was really bad and left me spending $50 to uber home in the snow, when I could barley walk as is (I had a herniated disc in my back and could barley walk). That month, I lost health insurance, and after begging for time to just take care of the injury, he told me we need intensive couples counseling. I had asked to just continue our therapist until we could change. That wasn't enough. The next weekend he asked me to go to a Gottman weekend. I said I couldn't leave my kid to do that right now and needed to take care of my help.
After that snow episode, that was really bad, laced with blame in the unpacking, I said I'm done, I can't do it. I was crying uncontrollably. I was scared. I really did not know who I was speaking to. After an hour, right when I needed to leave, he snapped out of whatever mindset he was in and told me he'd do anything, that he would work on anything, to please stay. I had to go, I could not think anymore. So in desperation, the only thing I asked for was to go alone on a trip with my daughter. He was scheduled to come with us. I said I needed time just with her. He agreed.
And honestly, he held up his end of the bargain....until he didn't.
3 days before the trip everything fell apart. I worked 12 hours that day and at the end of the day, went to pour water in a cup at home. It was the only time we had together before I left for the week. He hugged me from behind while I was pouring the water (....remember herniated disc in my back). I asked him to please stop and just let me have a second to pour the water.
He said "there's no turning back from this" and got his stuff to leave. I was floored. I was so upset because I knew where this was going - the blame game. He left, wouldn't come back, and then continued to blame me for the next 2 days about how I was an asshole the days before, only spent time with him out of obligation (not true), and rewrote history. I had a stomach bug all weekend and could not eat, but still tried to hang out as much as I reasonably could, and that was not enough.
The water incident was Wednesday, Thursday he had therapy and reinforced the blame, and I ended up leaving without saying goodbye. It was a week. I wanted to believe this relationship could survive a week. But I was clear with him days before: I am working up until I need to leave Friday so I can have real time off with my kid. He was upset I did not find him to say goodbye, even though he made no attempt to make peace earlier. But of course, my fault.
That night, he claimed down. Was nice. But it was a trap. After 12 hours of him being nice in text he said he was only doing it hoping I felt remorse and realized how wrong I was. He told me over and over he wouldn't see it differently. He said he read the transcript of our texts to 2 therapists and his friends and it’s clear: I am wrong. May be important to name here that we are both in our late 30’s.
I said that I want to work this out and I'll talk when we can actually discuss it and I'm willing to hear his side but not willing to blindly take all responsibility. He nailed me on every response, telling me how wrong my response was and what I should have done differently.
I was with my kid and could not talk. When I said "why are you doing this now, you know I can’t really respond" he told me to stop avoiding.
That night, he ghosted me for the first time in the relationship and I panicked. I called him a few times. No answer.
The next day, despite him never doing that to me before, he called me controlling for calling.
At 7am the next morning he told me our relationship was over in a text. This man, who 7 days before was professing his love and understanding of me ended the engagement in a text. This of course continued with a back and forth. I asked him to please stop. To please pause and talk to me when i'm back in 5 days. He told me to fight for the relationship or it was over. I said “I am just waking up with my 7 year old, in a hotel, please stop.” I asked him to attend couples therapy in 3 days to talk this out. He said “you accept all responsibility and change your behavior or we are done.” I asked if he was willing to talk and he said the problem was my perception and that it's wrong, so unless I change we are done. I knew this wasn't ok but I was so blindsided I did not know what to do. He agreed to go to couples therapy Thursday. We barley talked. There were a few more messages of him telling me he needs to know I can live a drama free life and celebrate his love and see it all as beautiful (almost verbatim). At this point, all I wanted to do is keep the dial down. I pushed back saying, “I cannot teach my daughter that someone can just tell her that her emotions and feelings are wrong, I hope you will be willing to talk and we can get on the same page.”
He agreed to go to couples therapy, and then didn't show up. He texted me 10 minutes before saying he was not going. I begged and pleaded. But he had the couples therapist to tell me he wasn't going to go. He had her tell me. I lost it. I lost my mind. I had been reeling for days. Not sleeping. Putting on a fake smile all day with my kid while I was dying inside. Staying up late to cry, process, read, figure out wtf was going on…
I called him about 10 times and of course, he told me it was inappropriate. He then picked up and gave me 10 minutes. He again wanted me to take all responsibility for everything. I was so shaken, I just fawned. I said ok. When I'm back I hope we can talk but if you want me to accept blame for now, fine.
Everything was calmer for 2 days until we were heading back and he texted me something along the lines of "don't fool me" I was like wtf? He said "there's no turning back. There's no other chances." I was like wait what? And then it was "don't make me look like a fool" I had no idea what was going on. I was like "um what is this?" He essentially was reinforcing his stance: I am to blame for everything in the present and past. If I try to talk to him about his side I'm wrong. I need to repent and one wrong move (defined by him) is a misstep and there's no room for error (his words). I was like....I will be in a relationship based in reality, and I will own my part and parts, but i will not be in something that i'm to blame for everything. That is not healthy. I have also been in abusive relationships before.
He then stopped messaging me. Didn't care that we got into flight issues. Didn't care we made the flight back. That night he came over and was a victim. Claimed in the 5 days I was gone he found himself. That he wasn't focused at work because of me and now he is. He wanted to try to be together. I had no idea what reality I was in. We slept together. He left. And told me we'd talk the next day. All of this felt so weird but I was just hoping he would snap out of this and back to reality and we would be able to talk. But I also knew this had to end at this point.
The next day, he didn't answer me all day. This was the opposite of behavior I ever experienced from him. Did not respond to texts or pick up the phone. We had a training appointment and he had the trainer tell me he wasn't coming. I broke down in tears. I begged him to just answer a text. He didn't. He drove by me while walking the dog and did not stop. I emailed him, expressing my confusion, telling him this is not what we agreed to. He blocked me. That night I got an email from him letting me know he was moving 10 min away. He lived next door in another apt building. He actually assured me the day before he “was not going anywhere.” In that email, he listed out the calls and texts I sent and how inappropriate it was. He never said we were done. He said taking space, needing space…so in my head I was confused but see it now.
I was inconsolable. I didn’t respond.
But here is the issue I am still in: I needed to see him dropping his kid at school the next day. I will need to see him for the next 12 years unless I move.
The following Friday he stood next to me at a school event. I purposely stood in the back to have space and be able to leave if I needed to. He went next to me. When I told him he should sit, he said he didn't want to make it obvious to his ex wife. I asked him to speak that Friday. He said ok but he was moving. I cried instantly. Already? I said ok.
On Saturday am, I saw the truck pull up and left the house. I called him that Saturday. I was blocked.
The next wednesday he asked me for a series of logistics in a text. None of which I handled yet. Wanting me to cancel flights and settle up money spent together. No mention or responsibility for all the money wasted on tickets we will never use. But then…in the text, asked for my engagement ring back.
I responded to logistics. Not the ring
He then called me 3 hours later because something went really wrong in his legal case. He wanted me to understand and validate him. I did....I just turned off my feelings for a moment. At the end he said, so about the flights. Can you handle it? "If i cancel it for you and your son i also have to do it for me and my kid. It's all on the same reservation" "well if you can go and not make sexual advances on me then we can try to go together.” I was like wtf? I could not have sex for months due to my injury. But he wanted to. Was this way of setting up blame that if we DID sleep together I would be to blame? I was like “I will cancel it for all of us.”
He then ran down more logistics and I said honestly you didn't seem done. I don't understand what you're doing. He said "im done" i hung up the phone.
He asked me for the ring again that night in a text. I said no, I need time to process this.
Everything since then has been a transaction. If i have a genuine emotion, he gets upset that i have it at all. He continues to sit next to me at school events because he claims he does not want his ex-wife to think we are done (this is insane to me….). I realize now that if it is a “good” interaction he is happy. If I am sad, then it is a “bad” one.
He never told his son we broke up, and shamed me for telling my daughter.
Recently he asked me a question and I was annoyed, and he said "can you not be mad at me?" I said “no, I can't not be mad at you…”
In the last 3 months, he’s said "I don't want to confuse things" has come up a lot. I don’t know if he is saying that to me or himself.
I have been so stuck trying to understand how I could not take space at all from him, to being totally discarded. I know he went back to spending, and drinking, but I don’t think he is seeing anyone.
He only responds when he wants to. He ignores other things. I never was able to get an MRI for my back because the claim went through a DR he set up for me and he never sent me the info when I asked.
I got the money back he owed me, but still lost so much money.
He told me he missed me one time.
I don’t know who this person is.
I will have to see him for the next 12 years while the kids are in school unless I move. I am not going to move just to avoid him, but I need to heal so I can be strong enough. I don’t know if he is going to try to come back. I have been in therapy and am getting clearer about what brought me into this in the first place.
Any clarity you can help me with, on this, and what may come from here, would be really helpful. It will help me direct some of my searches and begin to piece things together to process in therapy. I have severe anxiety when I run into him at school.
I have never had to heal from something like this before. At first, I thought it was healing from a narcissistic discard….this feels like so much more.
Does it sound like he will want to come back?
Is there ever closure?
2024.05.19 16:52 outtayoleeg Bride collapsed during wedding rituals, family replaced her with younger sister.
 | submitted by outtayoleeg to interestingasfuck [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 16:46 xear818 Advaita teacher Robert Adams was really Robert Spiegel
The now deceased guru Robert Adams was Robert Spiegel, and there is a huge history.
Did Robert Adams really meet Ramana Maharshi? The answer is a decisive NO! His claim of being at Ramana Ashram anytime between 1946-1950 has been proven false.Some things that stand out in this report is that Robert Adams is obviously Robert Spiegel by the pictures. Also, by his marriage certificate to Leonie Maxwell who has been positively identified as Nicole Adams and linked to the Infinity Institute. The address listed as “1985 Bathgate Ave. Bronx, N.Y.” on his marriage certificate and military record leaves no room for doubt: we are referring to the correct Robert Spiegel. He was born in 1932, making him 16 years old in 1948.
If you scroll to the bottom and examine his military record he worked from 1948-1951 as a General Clerk for the Brazilian Trade Bureau in NYC before he began active duty from 1951-1954 where he served in Korea and was awarded a Bronze Medal for valor in combat. He separated from the US Army in Jan. 14, 1954, married Nicole (Leonie) in 1954 and had his first child Sharon (aka Melanie/Amber) in 1957; second daughter Michelle (aka Avantae) in 1960. He obtained a mail order doctorate degree from the “College of Divine Metaphysics,” in Indianapolis, Indiana (still around) and traveled the USA lecturing on “Science of the Mind,” and a “7 Day Stop Smoking” program as Dr. J. Robert Spiegel.
At this writing Nicole Adams (aka Leonie Maxwell) is alive, 95 years old, and in a hospital (Cape Fear Valley Medical Center) in Fayetteville, North Carolina; two of her grandchildren are missing and there is an ongoing police investigation regarding their adoptive mother Michelle/Avantae who now goes by the name Avantae Deven. Avantae continues to post quotes about love, light, and peace, her idyllic childhood with saintly (rarely home) Robert Adams, and human brotherhood while refusing to answer questions about her two missing children —their possible whereabouts — or why she waited almost 1.5 years to make her strange 911 call to report them missing. https://selfreflexiveloopphotography.photo.blog/2024/05/16/advaita-teacher-robert-adams-was-really-robert-spiegel/
2024.05.19 16:41 GeorgeOrwell_Gurl UPDATE 2 -- Am I the jerk for resenting my dad because of his new family and for seeing my stepfather as a better dad than him?
Hello, everyone. It's only been a couple of days since my last post. Since then, I have taken the advice most of you have given me and I talked to my mom about how I don't want to keep being forced by her to visit Eric (my sperm donor, as most of you referred to him as).
Long story short, I'm not 100% sure she won't continue to send me over to Eric's house, but she did wind up sending him long texts, chewing him out for not treating me right and telling him to step up and pay his child support. He didn't answer her though, so I followed some other advice and wrote him a long text myself that detailed how I felt about his treatment of me the last few years.
The thing is, as soon as I sent that text, he called me to yell at me and called me spoiled and overdramatic. He said it's my fault we don't have a relationship since I never visit or talk to him anymore, and because I mentioned the unpaid child support, he said that I was only reaching out to him for money.
I nearly cried during that phone call and wound up just hanging up on him. He sent some angry texts to my mother as well. But later that day, he left a voicemail on my phone saying, "Money is kind of tight for me right now. I'm completely broke. You know I love you, right?" The thing is that I know that's a lie because I'm always seeing my younger step-sister make Tik-Tok videos showing off the Sephora and other expensive crap he buys her all the time.
I think I'm done trying. And some of you suggested asking my stepdad for help. I wish I could, but when I asked my mom again if he could adopt me, she said something that absolutely crushed me. Apparently, my stepdad himself said he doesn't feel like he should adopt me. My stepdad is a very kind and sympathetic man, but he's also extremely unconfrontational and thinks it would be like a slap in the face to Eric if he adopted me.
Also, because I noticed some confusion about this in the comments on my last update, the reason my parents divorced was because he cheated, but it wasn't with his current wife. My parents split up when I was still basically an infant, and Eric lived in Canada where he jumped from girlfriend to girlfriend there before he moved down here and continued to jump from girlfriend to girlfriend. When I was 12, he met and knocked up his wife, Alejandra, and married her without telling me till a month after their courthouse wedding.
Also, some of you asked how old I am. I am fifteen. It feels ridiculous that I have this stress on me at my age, and I can't really talk to anyone about it. I can't talk to my stepdad because he's always working and I'm only ever with him when my mom is there too, and I don't like talking to her because she always tells me that I'm too young to really feel how I feel.
The last time I tried to discuss my mental health with my mom, I asked her if I could start going to therapy and she said that therapists are dumb and that I can just talk to her or pray to God if anything is wrong. I'm not super religious, and talking to her about anything serious makes me deeply uncomfortable. It's not that I don't love her, since she is my mom after all, but she's pretty intense and intimidating.
My dad has not reached out to me again since his voicemail. Frankly, I don't want to even thing about him for a long while now If he suddenly realizes how badly he's screwed up with me and apologizes, then maybe I'll try to rebuild our relationship.
As for my stepdad, he may not want to adopt me, but he still calls me his daughter (never just his step-daughter) and I truly feel loved by him. I love his parents like they're my own grandparents, and his whole family is so warm and loving. I might make another update if anything else happens, but for now I'm just going to focus on school and my books. Maybe now that I understand that Eric really doesn't care that much about me anymore, I can finally focus on finishing my third book.
I dedicated my first book to him, and I honestly don't regret it. I dedicated that book to the dad he used to be. It's not like he'll ever read that book since he doesn't think it's smart that I want to be a writer, but I don't care. I'm done.
Thank you to everyone who gave me advice and told me I wasn't the jerk. I feel so much better with those reassurances. Thank you.
submitted by GeorgeOrwell_Gurl to AmITheJerk [link] [comments]
Long story short, I'm not 100% sure she won't continue to send me over to Eric's house, but she did wind up sending him long texts, chewing him out for not treating me right and telling him to step up and pay his child support. He didn't answer her though, so I followed some other advice and wrote him a long text myself that detailed how I felt about his treatment of me the last few years.
The thing is, as soon as I sent that text, he called me to yell at me and called me spoiled and overdramatic. He said it's my fault we don't have a relationship since I never visit or talk to him anymore, and because I mentioned the unpaid child support, he said that I was only reaching out to him for money.
I nearly cried during that phone call and wound up just hanging up on him. He sent some angry texts to my mother as well. But later that day, he left a voicemail on my phone saying, "Money is kind of tight for me right now. I'm completely broke. You know I love you, right?" The thing is that I know that's a lie because I'm always seeing my younger step-sister make Tik-Tok videos showing off the Sephora and other expensive crap he buys her all the time.
I think I'm done trying. And some of you suggested asking my stepdad for help. I wish I could, but when I asked my mom again if he could adopt me, she said something that absolutely crushed me. Apparently, my stepdad himself said he doesn't feel like he should adopt me. My stepdad is a very kind and sympathetic man, but he's also extremely unconfrontational and thinks it would be like a slap in the face to Eric if he adopted me.
Also, because I noticed some confusion about this in the comments on my last update, the reason my parents divorced was because he cheated, but it wasn't with his current wife. My parents split up when I was still basically an infant, and Eric lived in Canada where he jumped from girlfriend to girlfriend there before he moved down here and continued to jump from girlfriend to girlfriend. When I was 12, he met and knocked up his wife, Alejandra, and married her without telling me till a month after their courthouse wedding.
Also, some of you asked how old I am. I am fifteen. It feels ridiculous that I have this stress on me at my age, and I can't really talk to anyone about it. I can't talk to my stepdad because he's always working and I'm only ever with him when my mom is there too, and I don't like talking to her because she always tells me that I'm too young to really feel how I feel.
The last time I tried to discuss my mental health with my mom, I asked her if I could start going to therapy and she said that therapists are dumb and that I can just talk to her or pray to God if anything is wrong. I'm not super religious, and talking to her about anything serious makes me deeply uncomfortable. It's not that I don't love her, since she is my mom after all, but she's pretty intense and intimidating.
My dad has not reached out to me again since his voicemail. Frankly, I don't want to even thing about him for a long while now If he suddenly realizes how badly he's screwed up with me and apologizes, then maybe I'll try to rebuild our relationship.
As for my stepdad, he may not want to adopt me, but he still calls me his daughter (never just his step-daughter) and I truly feel loved by him. I love his parents like they're my own grandparents, and his whole family is so warm and loving. I might make another update if anything else happens, but for now I'm just going to focus on school and my books. Maybe now that I understand that Eric really doesn't care that much about me anymore, I can finally focus on finishing my third book.
I dedicated my first book to him, and I honestly don't regret it. I dedicated that book to the dad he used to be. It's not like he'll ever read that book since he doesn't think it's smart that I want to be a writer, but I don't care. I'm done.
Thank you to everyone who gave me advice and told me I wasn't the jerk. I feel so much better with those reassurances. Thank you.
2024.05.19 16:41 BS_DD4_16_24 Getting closer to present time. Update 2 on discovered Snapchats with ex
So I have more evidence of the duration of contact. She's 7 months married. 6.5 months pregnant.
It started out sexual from his first words. Calling her sexy. Asking to video chat. She didn't, but deflected in a passive way. I know they transitioned to Snapchat after he asked to video chat and stopped using Instagram. ~3.5 yr gap from then to when they added each other on this latest instance of his Snapchat.
Proof I nailed it on at least two counts in our previous talk when I told her that "I don't remember" isn't the defense she thinks it is. It's just harmful stonewalling and lying and I'm going to operate under the assumption: of the possible answers, it's the worst one. Don't remember how long it has been going on for? I take that to mean it's been the whole time. It happened before our relationship and never stopped. She acknowledged that he had asked for sexual pictures. I asked when he started that. "I don't remember." Well that just means that's the status quo. You don't have an event to point to because it didn't stand out. That's just the nature of your conversation. It's always been him pushing boundaries and asking for it.
So when I ask what video she sent and she says "I don't remember?" When I ask what else she has sent and she says "nothing else inappropriate?" Well I don't have proof but I know what my gut feeling is. Let's not get into the "inappropriate" nature of the admitted venting to your ex who about our relationship problems...
Time for another confrontation with newfound evidence to poke holes. Let's see if it's enough to trigger her to come clean now on the rest.
She tries to minimize it. Reiterates that nothing else inappropriate was sent. I tell her that the whole thing is inappropriate and should have been shut down when it started in the way that it did. I asked what was exchanged on Snapchat. She said he asked for more but that she told him I'm married and don't want to do that. I pointed out that he was calling her sexy and asking to video chat and there's no hint of that sentiment in the months it took to move to Snapchat. All I see is (AP):"you're looking sexy" (WW) "thanks. you're looking good too!" and "Im 8 mo pregnant, tired, and don't want to be on camera." Nothing even vaguely expressing its inappropriate or that you want it to stop because you're married. Just quick on the draw when he asks to see that sexy belly or that cute face. Asking to video chat, a shared Snapchat username, and right on over to the platform designed for sexting. Either it's as you say, that you didn't care about him at all and just went along in the most passive way imaginable or you were an enthusiastic participant. I think it's the latter.
She deflects and brings up me texting my ex at one point with a picture of our new baby. Also mentioned a girl I have on Snapchat. Turns out she must have snooped in my phone? Well she never mentioned it to me despite "it shaking her."
Another example of a huge personality flaw of hers. No communication. She just bottled it up and used it as justification for eroding our marriage. If she had mentioned it at the time, it could have been addressed and put to rest. One benefit to living a clean life. I told her that my recollection of the nature of the conversation I had with her was that it was short, congratulating her on getting married and sharing that we had our daughter. That I haven't spoken to her since. As for the other one brought up that's a Snapchat friend, she is a childhood friend that was a few years younger and not an ex. Our parents worked together and our families hung out a lot. That she's in a happy long term committed relationship on the other side of the country and that I havent seen her since we were like 15 and 12. That we had previously talked in college and before our relationship about each others' relationships. Mainly to vent about ones that had ended or complain about the lack of options. At one point she was in one where he wasn't very committed and I told her she deserves better. I hadn't said anything during a relationship besides being happy and wishing her the same. This all being prior to our relationship. Since then it's pretty much just random pictures you send out to everyone like stuff our family is doing or of her and her SO/dog, but not engaging directly. So yeah, nice try at deflection, but these are wildly different actions.
All this gives me the idea to go see if she's got her old phone around somewhere with old messages from before we dated. I had seen the stuff mentioned in the previous post, but had drawn a line back then to not look at anything from before we dated. I feel it's relevant now for texts with AP at least, to be an example of how they interact.
Found it, and checked when she was away. Read their conversation history. Everything out of his mouth is sexual. Pushing for photos. Sending nudes. He was married at the time. She wasn't super cooperative at first, bringing up the wife, but still ended up sending nudes in response to his. About a year and a half before we got together, while she was between boyfriends, he asked to meet her at a hotel when she came back home for the holidays and she agreed. Later said she couldn't because she just started dating someone and wasn't the type of person to do stuff with two guys. Partial credit I guess? Still not a great look into the character of my wife to be comfortable as AP.
Anyway. Stashed away the evidence. I did do some internet sleuthing and found the address, phone numbers, Facebook, etc of him and his wife. More on that later.
In our conversations about him and their history together, she did mention that before we met, she was in a relationship where the guy was suspicious/jealous and was physically threatening (punched a wall next to her) and sexually assaulted her. That she had told the ex and he confronted the guy and made him back off. So there's a new aspect of trauma she hadn't shared fully. She had shared early on that she had a relationship with someone she was scared of who got jealous and started stalking her but hadn't shared the rest. She won't tell me his name which is probably good for my own continuing "not in jail" legal status, but fuck.... I can appreciate what he did for her and still think he's scum. I can understand the sense of owing him for that and wanting that as an option for protection, which lead to putting up with it despite not wanting to follow through (as she claims). That doesn't excuse continuing into marriage though. It's also fertile ground for an emotional affair if he's the confidant she talks to when things are rough. There's also the "well I've seen it already so it's not a big deal if you send more pictures" aspect that makes it easy to slip into that dynamic.
More to follow. I did however have a session with an IC thru talkspace which went well. She brought up BPD which after looking, I can't say hits on all counts but there's definitely a lot of overlap with the Petulant subtype.
submitted by BS_DD4_16_24 to SupportforBetrayed [link] [comments]
It started out sexual from his first words. Calling her sexy. Asking to video chat. She didn't, but deflected in a passive way. I know they transitioned to Snapchat after he asked to video chat and stopped using Instagram. ~3.5 yr gap from then to when they added each other on this latest instance of his Snapchat.
Proof I nailed it on at least two counts in our previous talk when I told her that "I don't remember" isn't the defense she thinks it is. It's just harmful stonewalling and lying and I'm going to operate under the assumption: of the possible answers, it's the worst one. Don't remember how long it has been going on for? I take that to mean it's been the whole time. It happened before our relationship and never stopped. She acknowledged that he had asked for sexual pictures. I asked when he started that. "I don't remember." Well that just means that's the status quo. You don't have an event to point to because it didn't stand out. That's just the nature of your conversation. It's always been him pushing boundaries and asking for it.
So when I ask what video she sent and she says "I don't remember?" When I ask what else she has sent and she says "nothing else inappropriate?" Well I don't have proof but I know what my gut feeling is. Let's not get into the "inappropriate" nature of the admitted venting to your ex who about our relationship problems...
Time for another confrontation with newfound evidence to poke holes. Let's see if it's enough to trigger her to come clean now on the rest.
She tries to minimize it. Reiterates that nothing else inappropriate was sent. I tell her that the whole thing is inappropriate and should have been shut down when it started in the way that it did. I asked what was exchanged on Snapchat. She said he asked for more but that she told him I'm married and don't want to do that. I pointed out that he was calling her sexy and asking to video chat and there's no hint of that sentiment in the months it took to move to Snapchat. All I see is (AP):"you're looking sexy" (WW) "thanks. you're looking good too!" and "Im 8 mo pregnant, tired, and don't want to be on camera." Nothing even vaguely expressing its inappropriate or that you want it to stop because you're married. Just quick on the draw when he asks to see that sexy belly or that cute face. Asking to video chat, a shared Snapchat username, and right on over to the platform designed for sexting. Either it's as you say, that you didn't care about him at all and just went along in the most passive way imaginable or you were an enthusiastic participant. I think it's the latter.
She deflects and brings up me texting my ex at one point with a picture of our new baby. Also mentioned a girl I have on Snapchat. Turns out she must have snooped in my phone? Well she never mentioned it to me despite "it shaking her."
Another example of a huge personality flaw of hers. No communication. She just bottled it up and used it as justification for eroding our marriage. If she had mentioned it at the time, it could have been addressed and put to rest. One benefit to living a clean life. I told her that my recollection of the nature of the conversation I had with her was that it was short, congratulating her on getting married and sharing that we had our daughter. That I haven't spoken to her since. As for the other one brought up that's a Snapchat friend, she is a childhood friend that was a few years younger and not an ex. Our parents worked together and our families hung out a lot. That she's in a happy long term committed relationship on the other side of the country and that I havent seen her since we were like 15 and 12. That we had previously talked in college and before our relationship about each others' relationships. Mainly to vent about ones that had ended or complain about the lack of options. At one point she was in one where he wasn't very committed and I told her she deserves better. I hadn't said anything during a relationship besides being happy and wishing her the same. This all being prior to our relationship. Since then it's pretty much just random pictures you send out to everyone like stuff our family is doing or of her and her SO/dog, but not engaging directly. So yeah, nice try at deflection, but these are wildly different actions.
All this gives me the idea to go see if she's got her old phone around somewhere with old messages from before we dated. I had seen the stuff mentioned in the previous post, but had drawn a line back then to not look at anything from before we dated. I feel it's relevant now for texts with AP at least, to be an example of how they interact.
Found it, and checked when she was away. Read their conversation history. Everything out of his mouth is sexual. Pushing for photos. Sending nudes. He was married at the time. She wasn't super cooperative at first, bringing up the wife, but still ended up sending nudes in response to his. About a year and a half before we got together, while she was between boyfriends, he asked to meet her at a hotel when she came back home for the holidays and she agreed. Later said she couldn't because she just started dating someone and wasn't the type of person to do stuff with two guys. Partial credit I guess? Still not a great look into the character of my wife to be comfortable as AP.
Anyway. Stashed away the evidence. I did do some internet sleuthing and found the address, phone numbers, Facebook, etc of him and his wife. More on that later.
In our conversations about him and their history together, she did mention that before we met, she was in a relationship where the guy was suspicious/jealous and was physically threatening (punched a wall next to her) and sexually assaulted her. That she had told the ex and he confronted the guy and made him back off. So there's a new aspect of trauma she hadn't shared fully. She had shared early on that she had a relationship with someone she was scared of who got jealous and started stalking her but hadn't shared the rest. She won't tell me his name which is probably good for my own continuing "not in jail" legal status, but fuck.... I can appreciate what he did for her and still think he's scum. I can understand the sense of owing him for that and wanting that as an option for protection, which lead to putting up with it despite not wanting to follow through (as she claims). That doesn't excuse continuing into marriage though. It's also fertile ground for an emotional affair if he's the confidant she talks to when things are rough. There's also the "well I've seen it already so it's not a big deal if you send more pictures" aspect that makes it easy to slip into that dynamic.
More to follow. I did however have a session with an IC thru talkspace which went well. She brought up BPD which after looking, I can't say hits on all counts but there's definitely a lot of overlap with the Petulant subtype.
2024.05.19 16:40 Chakra_Mouse How can I stay mindful and regulated in an unloving marriage?
My husband (47 M) and I (37 F) have been married for 5.5 years and together for 9 years. When we started dating, we were both fresh out of long relationships and "rushed" into things, including having a child together. But, things were really good. I don't regret it at all. We now have a beautiful home, two daughters, financial stability, and all of the standard "good stuff". Like, we literally have a white picket fence. We don't fight often and I've been able to leave work to pursue an education in Yoga Instruction. We have chores split fairly and know what tasks are "ours". For example, I do the laundry and he does the dishes; He tidies the floors and I sweep/mop the floors; etc. For all intents and purposes, this is an amazing family and life.
However, it is extremely clear to me that he doesn't love me. I don't know if he ever has or ever will. I feel alone and sad/frustrated by this. When we first started dating, we'd go to bed at the same time. I don't quite recall when this stopped, but he permanently sleeps in the living room on the couch. I've spent years begging him to make it a regular habit to come to bed. He'll say he will, but never does. He has a million excuses not to, but never has a reason to lay with me. He'll lay in the bed for a midday nap, but leaves the second I lay down. He will wake up in the middle of being fully asleep just to leave. We have physical intimacy time regularly, but even that is like checking off a box. I enjoy it. He claims to enjoy it. But there is absolutely no talking or cuddling after. He's never said something nice to me unprompted. I've actually asked direct questions about his favorite thing about me, why he loves me, etc. I'm not a "beat around the bush" kind of person. I clearly, actively, consistently, and sometimes loudly communicate how I feel or what I need. He seems to try his best to meet those needs as long as they are not emotional. He doesn't necessarily say regular mean things, but the dryness is hurtful. He doesn't show any interest when I talk about my day or my interests, but has no problem talking about his day or his interests. He won't even watch TV with me, even though he spends the majority of his time watching TV that interests him. Holidays are the same. It's checking off the boxes. Flowers, gift, card (that he always manages to "forget" the envelope for and "didn't have a pen" to sign).
I've tried to address this in many ways. Marriage counselor. Informal relationship check-ins. Marriage book. The counselor was too much. The check-ins were not enough. The book seemed to help the most. But, he's always made it clear that he "is only doing it for me" and doesn't like it or care about it. To him, it's a book. To me, it's a tool to enhance our relationship and fall back in love. It IS our relationship, or a pathway to a good one at least. He's recently started to fully refuse to work on it with me, saying it doesn't help. I, actually, thought it was helping a lot. He started to feel like my friend and not just my roommate. But it seems like that may be exactly why he doesn't want to keep doing it. It seems like he doesn't think we should be friends.
We recently go into a small argument. Some snide remarks were made that led to a rabbit hole ending in him saying he wouldn't care if I had a boyfriend on the side. Now, I don't actually believe that he wouldn't care. But I think he'd care for how it looks and not how it feels. I genuinely don't think his feelings would be hurt if I actually found someone to entertain me. It's not even on the table, though. I don't want anyone else. I want my husband. But I'm starting to feel pathetic and like I'm begging someone to love me that never will. He's just not interested in a loving relationship with me.
I suppose it's also important to mention that he has what most people would consider a drinking problem. He's not mean or aggressive. It doesn't get in the way of his job. However, he drinks beer everyday and falls asleep. He doesn't have issues waking up. In fact, he wakes me and our daughters up in the mornings. Because it doesn't impact the functioning of his days, he doesn't view it as a problem. I know it's too much and I know it most likely has everything to do with why he is so distant with me. It's like he has an affair with alcohol. It will always mean more to him. It's an addiction. But, he won't view it that way. And it won't change. And I'm left here clinging to the moments in between and feeling alone.
I won't be divorcing him. So, I guess my question is How do I manage to exist in this "picture perfect", lonely, lacking in love life without completely losing my mind? How do I stay content without clinging to the hopes that he'll maybe love me? I've never been the type to be interested in how things appear to others. I want actual love and joy. This is tearing me apart and I don't know how to continue as a calm, regulated, mindful person. And ultimately, I fear this will inhibit my ability to be the best yoga instructor I can be.
submitted by Chakra_Mouse to relationships_advice [link] [comments]
However, it is extremely clear to me that he doesn't love me. I don't know if he ever has or ever will. I feel alone and sad/frustrated by this. When we first started dating, we'd go to bed at the same time. I don't quite recall when this stopped, but he permanently sleeps in the living room on the couch. I've spent years begging him to make it a regular habit to come to bed. He'll say he will, but never does. He has a million excuses not to, but never has a reason to lay with me. He'll lay in the bed for a midday nap, but leaves the second I lay down. He will wake up in the middle of being fully asleep just to leave. We have physical intimacy time regularly, but even that is like checking off a box. I enjoy it. He claims to enjoy it. But there is absolutely no talking or cuddling after. He's never said something nice to me unprompted. I've actually asked direct questions about his favorite thing about me, why he loves me, etc. I'm not a "beat around the bush" kind of person. I clearly, actively, consistently, and sometimes loudly communicate how I feel or what I need. He seems to try his best to meet those needs as long as they are not emotional. He doesn't necessarily say regular mean things, but the dryness is hurtful. He doesn't show any interest when I talk about my day or my interests, but has no problem talking about his day or his interests. He won't even watch TV with me, even though he spends the majority of his time watching TV that interests him. Holidays are the same. It's checking off the boxes. Flowers, gift, card (that he always manages to "forget" the envelope for and "didn't have a pen" to sign).
I've tried to address this in many ways. Marriage counselor. Informal relationship check-ins. Marriage book. The counselor was too much. The check-ins were not enough. The book seemed to help the most. But, he's always made it clear that he "is only doing it for me" and doesn't like it or care about it. To him, it's a book. To me, it's a tool to enhance our relationship and fall back in love. It IS our relationship, or a pathway to a good one at least. He's recently started to fully refuse to work on it with me, saying it doesn't help. I, actually, thought it was helping a lot. He started to feel like my friend and not just my roommate. But it seems like that may be exactly why he doesn't want to keep doing it. It seems like he doesn't think we should be friends.
We recently go into a small argument. Some snide remarks were made that led to a rabbit hole ending in him saying he wouldn't care if I had a boyfriend on the side. Now, I don't actually believe that he wouldn't care. But I think he'd care for how it looks and not how it feels. I genuinely don't think his feelings would be hurt if I actually found someone to entertain me. It's not even on the table, though. I don't want anyone else. I want my husband. But I'm starting to feel pathetic and like I'm begging someone to love me that never will. He's just not interested in a loving relationship with me.
I suppose it's also important to mention that he has what most people would consider a drinking problem. He's not mean or aggressive. It doesn't get in the way of his job. However, he drinks beer everyday and falls asleep. He doesn't have issues waking up. In fact, he wakes me and our daughters up in the mornings. Because it doesn't impact the functioning of his days, he doesn't view it as a problem. I know it's too much and I know it most likely has everything to do with why he is so distant with me. It's like he has an affair with alcohol. It will always mean more to him. It's an addiction. But, he won't view it that way. And it won't change. And I'm left here clinging to the moments in between and feeling alone.
I won't be divorcing him. So, I guess my question is How do I manage to exist in this "picture perfect", lonely, lacking in love life without completely losing my mind? How do I stay content without clinging to the hopes that he'll maybe love me? I've never been the type to be interested in how things appear to others. I want actual love and joy. This is tearing me apart and I don't know how to continue as a calm, regulated, mindful person. And ultimately, I fear this will inhibit my ability to be the best yoga instructor I can be.
2024.05.19 16:38 Curious-Tomato-3639 Anniversary reshoot?
Has anyone done a wedding reshoot? I had my wedding a few months ago, and am having some regrets on photos, especially now after attending a few other friends weddings. I didn't love my wedding dress, my photographers didn't get great shots, I wasn't aware of how to smile so that my eyes didn't look tiny, things like that. I don't regret the day or the wedding, just want that stunning shot to be able to put on the wall, or look back on and feel beautiful.
Our wedding was in February, but I was thinking of doing a warmer weather reshoot with a different white dress (or a few different ones). Maybe one with a long veil to make it bridal. Is this too extra? Would it better to wait until next year or just go ahead and do it this summer?
submitted by Curious-Tomato-3639 to weddingplanning [link] [comments]
Our wedding was in February, but I was thinking of doing a warmer weather reshoot with a different white dress (or a few different ones). Maybe one with a long veil to make it bridal. Is this too extra? Would it better to wait until next year or just go ahead and do it this summer?
2024.05.19 16:33 Misomyx I rewatched every single episode and collected some useless stats, enjoy
I decided to (re)watch every single DiP episode from season 1 to season 13, including the 3 Christmas specials, and to make an Excel file compiling fun stats about the show. Here's the gist (and please excuse any mistakes as English is not my mother tongue):
Speaking of coincidences, note that 2 brides were killed on their wedding day, 2 prisoners were killed by their prison guards, and 2 survival coaches were killed by someone close to them.
13 murders were committed with direct complicity (including 4 with the complicity of 2 or more people). 12 murders were disguised as suicides, 4 as accidents, 3 as burglaries gone wrong. 4 deaths were actually suicides made to look like murders.
On the fun side, in 5 different cases, the victim wanted to stage their own murder in order to disappear and start a new life, but was killed anyway.
20 murders took place elsewhere than previously thought. In 8 cases, it's because the victim had time to move before succumbing.
16 murders took place later than previously thought, mostly because the victim as first discovered was not actually dead, and the murderer killed them afterwards (9), or because there was a second gunshot after the murder (7).
In 10 different cases, the poison was not where it was thought to be.
I'd like to note the inventiveness of Sainte Marie's murderers when it comes to blocking a door from the inside: among other strokes of genius, they've already used a towel, a bottle cap, a fork and chewing gum to obstruct a door.
(Please note that these statistics only apply to murders seen directly in the episode. I have not taken into account murders that take place chronologically before the episode.)
submitted by Misomyx to DeathInParadiseBBC [link] [comments]
General statistics
- Men are most likely to be killed (71 out of 113 victims are men), but also to kill (62 out of 107 murderers are men).
- So it makes sense that most murders are a man killing a man (45 times). The most frequent configuration is then a woman killing a man (27), followed by a man killing a woman (22) and finally a woman killing a woman (20).
Methods of murder
- Saint Marie murderers have a soft spot for firearms (32).
- Bladed weapons (i.e. knives, machetes, ice picks, spears, scissors and needles) were used 24 times.
- 21 victims were killed by poison/overdose.
- 8 fell to their deaths.
- 8 were strangled.
- 6 were asphyxied (most of the times with a pillow).
- 6 were struck with a blunt object (including a pole, a paperweight, a statuette, a golf club and a handle).
- 3 were electrocuted.
- 2 drowned.
- 2 had an allergic reaction caused by the murderer.
- 1 was harpooned.
Motives
- Most of the time (26), you kill to prevent the victim to reveal something incriminating about you.
- Revenge is a pretty common motive as well (24), especially in more recent seasons.
- 19 murders were motivated by money, 18 by love.
- 14 murders were committed to protect a loved one, a place the murderer enjoyed, or a business in which he was involved.
- 4 victims were killed to put an end to their abuse of the murderer (mainly blackmail).
- 3 murders were ordered by another person.
- 2 murders were mistakes by the murderer, who originally wanted to kill someone else.
- 2 murders were committed to make it appear that the victim was guilty of a previous crime and committed suicide out of guilt.
- Shoutout to the one crime that was committed purely gratuitously.
Who gets the most killed?
- You're most at risk of being killed by your colleague or business partner, as was the case for 22 unfortunate people.
- 13 murderers killed their bosses or people above them in the hierarchy.
- 12 killed their friends.
- 11 killed their customers.
- 9 killed their fathers.
- 5 wives killed their husbands and 4 husbands killed their wives.
- 3 murderers killed their employees or people below them in the hierarchy; 3 killed their exes and 3 killed their brothers.
- 2 killed their girlfriends; 2 killed their brothers-in-law, 2 killed their mothers-in-law.
- On the other hand, if you suspect that the guy who has a crush on you, your brother-in-law, nephew, daughter or girlfriend is up to no good, you can usually sleep soundly (1 murder for each).
Which occupation is the deadliest?
Well, besides simple resident (26) and tourist (10), the deadliest job on Saint Marie is businessman/woman (8). Singers (5) and police officers (4) are also quite threatened.Speaking of coincidences, note that 2 brides were killed on their wedding day, 2 prisoners were killed by their prison guards, and 2 survival coaches were killed by someone close to them.
Recurring tropes
The Saint Marie police had to deal with 71 seemingly impossible murders (i.e. a murder in a closed room and/or a murder where all the suspects were together at the time of the murder). 51 times, the DI has solved this case with the help of a completely innocuous event.13 murders were committed with direct complicity (including 4 with the complicity of 2 or more people). 12 murders were disguised as suicides, 4 as accidents, 3 as burglaries gone wrong. 4 deaths were actually suicides made to look like murders.
On the fun side, in 5 different cases, the victim wanted to stage their own murder in order to disappear and start a new life, but was killed anyway.
How did the killer fake their alibi?
Most of the time, the murder took place earlier than previously thought (23), notably because the culprit or an accomplice posed as the victim after the murder (9) or because the gunshot heard was not actually the one that killed the victim (5).20 murders took place elsewhere than previously thought. In 8 cases, it's because the victim had time to move before succumbing.
16 murders took place later than previously thought, mostly because the victim as first discovered was not actually dead, and the murderer killed them afterwards (9), or because there was a second gunshot after the murder (7).
In 10 different cases, the poison was not where it was thought to be.
I'd like to note the inventiveness of Sainte Marie's murderers when it comes to blocking a door from the inside: among other strokes of genius, they've already used a towel, a bottle cap, a fork and chewing gum to obstruct a door.
Character stats
- Obviously, officer Dwayne Myers holds the record for number of episodes (60), excluding Catherine, the commissionner and Harry.
- JP is the 2nd longest-serving character in the show, with 52 episodes.
- Florence appeared in 49 episodes (46 as a DS and 3 as an officer).
- Neville appeared in 39 episodes, making him the longest-serving DI.
- Marlon: 31
- Humphrey: 30
- Camille: 28
- Naomi: 26 (21 as a DS and 5 as an officer)
- Fidel: 24
- Jack: 22
- Darlene: 21
- Richard: 16
- Ruby: 15
- Madeleine: 10.
(Please note that these statistics only apply to murders seen directly in the episode. I have not taken into account murders that take place chronologically before the episode.)
2024.05.19 16:04 APCleriot My Family Isn't In The Family Photos
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.
submitted by APCleriot to nosleep [link] [comments]
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.
2024.05.19 15:48 lightingnations I found my girlfriend’s secret Google account and it feels like our entire relationship was built on a lie
I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…
submitted by lightingnations to nosleep [link] [comments]
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…
2024.05.19 15:22 nun_atoll 4
Frank could have slept in the trailer, but he preferred being in the van under current circumstances. He could scare off anyone who got a bright idea to try and steal the vehicle, for one thing. And if something happened in the motel room, if Jenna and Mike needed help, he was closer.
Not that any of that seemed likely; this place seemed dead as hell.
The motel was a not-too-busted-down place. The town it sat at the edge of was a wide-spot-in-the-road type. An out-of-the-way hamlet, some might call it. To Frank's parents, the town would have seemed ideal. Small enough to seem homey and friendly — and Christian, of course — but large enough to have the basic amenities: a pool of suckers for Mama's MLM sales and other schemes, people looking for someone like Papa who could at least seem to fix anything for cheap, and an attitude that led people to mind their own business, even with new folks and strangers, leaving no one too inclined to call in Youth Services or the equivalent at every sign of a bruise or a scrape or bleeding backs or broken limbs.
They'd done a lot of midnight runners out of places where people showed some level of neighborly concern. Left a lot of things behind in rented houses and apartments.
The best time had been when Frank was between the ages of five and seven. They lived with Grampa and Gramma Schnedeker then, and all the kids who were old enough got to go to proper school for a while, like school-school. Grampa Schnedeker needed a lot of looking after, and Gramma wanted the kids out of the house at least a few hours a day so as not to disturb him too much.
Since they got to go to school, Frank and his siblings right on either side actually learned to properly read and do the beginnings of math and such. Mama said all they needed to read was the Bible, and Papa said math was only important as far as helping him measure and cut lumber and pipe for projects, but still, the kids learned. And when Grampa Schnedeker died and the family moved on, the kids who had got school for a while tried to keep up and to teach things to the little ones.
That got stopped pretty quick, and Mama took over the "lessons," which really just meant she handed the kids their little workbooks every morning after breakfast and left them to work — QUIETLY as she always demanded — while she went and schmoozed sales or whatever. All the boys stopped having any "lessons" after 10 years old. That was when they would start going to work with Papa.
All the boys besides Frank, anyway. But that was before anyone besides Frank even knew that Frank was a boy.
And boy, had that been Hell on Earth when he finally outright told them he was a boy. Mama went to scream-praying like she tended to, and Papa tried to beat Frank to death, and then he did other things that really almost did kill Frank, but luckily Susie called 911.
It was Hell after, too. All that time in the hospital, and the stuff was on the news, and then Frank was sent to foster parents practically across the country. Those first ones were okay, except they also didn't believe Frank was a boy. They just tried to send him to a conversion therapist, who somehow luckily realized that there was no converting Frank and tipped off the social workers. Frank got new foster parents who accepted him, helped him get a name change, and even let him stay with them after he aged out of the foster system, until he could get his GED and see about college.
And then there was college, with his new name and his new clothes and finally being himself, and then the year of college, he met Jenna, and everything since then had been almost golden.
He could not sleep, crunched up in the driver's seat of the van with his head full of memories, so instead he just let it all play, the good and the bad, until it was almost sunrise and he needed to piss like a racehorse.
Then he got out of the van and went to knock at the door of the motel room. After he peed, he would ask Jenna if she minded taking the first shift driving today.
Gotta be up early and get everything together. Danna hated cooking, so Derick made breakfast, got the kids settled, and carried a plate back to his wife, still ensconced in the big bed in the back of the RV.
God had said that the wife should be the one to tend to the home and children, had he not? And yet, if the wife was unable to do some part of that, surely the man, in his free moments, should try and help. Thus, Derick would cook and would see that the children had breakfast, since Danna had such trouble sleeping, and then had trouble waking in the morning, especially when she was pregnant.
And if Danna's mother had never taught her to cook, well, that was the sin of Peggy Lynn Sooks, not her daughter. God would punish Peggy for her failures as a wife and mother.
Other than the sleeping trouble and the aversion to some of the arts of housewifery, Danna was excellent. She was really smart, figuring out how to put together all the social media stuff. And she was always ready to go whenever God told Derick they needed to pick up and move on. She greeted each trip, long or short, with joy, and she treated her other wifely obligations with equal joy.
Perhaps too much joy, sometimes. Danna, for example, took great joy in the act of procreation. That was good, of course, for they were to be fruitful and multiply and spread their family over the Earth to carry the Truth of God's message.
But the act of procreation, sacred and holy as it might be, was never something Derick greatly enjoyed. He did not, as he knew some husbands did, press his wife to fulfill her duties every night. In fact, their marriage had not been conssumated for nearly two months after the wedding, simply because Derick was disinclined. It took Danna reminding him that God's holy word also said a husband should satisfy his wife, and then they finally joined fully in their union.
Still, they did not do it often, unless Danna pressed Derick. As the years went on, she did so more and more, and so he let her have her desire. It was his duty as a husband.
Today, they would stay here. God had said they would be here about a week. Danna seemed happy with that, and the children seemed pleased as well.
They always seemed happiest when the family stopped wandering a while.
Derick had tried to explain to the children why they moved around so much, and why they must keep doing so. He thought perhaps the oldest two boys were beginning to understand. The little ones were still far from such wisdom, but there was time yet.
There was time.
3 Table of Contents
submitted by nun_atoll to liulfr [link] [comments]
Not that any of that seemed likely; this place seemed dead as hell.
The motel was a not-too-busted-down place. The town it sat at the edge of was a wide-spot-in-the-road type. An out-of-the-way hamlet, some might call it. To Frank's parents, the town would have seemed ideal. Small enough to seem homey and friendly — and Christian, of course — but large enough to have the basic amenities: a pool of suckers for Mama's MLM sales and other schemes, people looking for someone like Papa who could at least seem to fix anything for cheap, and an attitude that led people to mind their own business, even with new folks and strangers, leaving no one too inclined to call in Youth Services or the equivalent at every sign of a bruise or a scrape or bleeding backs or broken limbs.
They'd done a lot of midnight runners out of places where people showed some level of neighborly concern. Left a lot of things behind in rented houses and apartments.
The best time had been when Frank was between the ages of five and seven. They lived with Grampa and Gramma Schnedeker then, and all the kids who were old enough got to go to proper school for a while, like school-school. Grampa Schnedeker needed a lot of looking after, and Gramma wanted the kids out of the house at least a few hours a day so as not to disturb him too much.
Since they got to go to school, Frank and his siblings right on either side actually learned to properly read and do the beginnings of math and such. Mama said all they needed to read was the Bible, and Papa said math was only important as far as helping him measure and cut lumber and pipe for projects, but still, the kids learned. And when Grampa Schnedeker died and the family moved on, the kids who had got school for a while tried to keep up and to teach things to the little ones.
That got stopped pretty quick, and Mama took over the "lessons," which really just meant she handed the kids their little workbooks every morning after breakfast and left them to work — QUIETLY as she always demanded — while she went and schmoozed sales or whatever. All the boys stopped having any "lessons" after 10 years old. That was when they would start going to work with Papa.
All the boys besides Frank, anyway. But that was before anyone besides Frank even knew that Frank was a boy.
And boy, had that been Hell on Earth when he finally outright told them he was a boy. Mama went to scream-praying like she tended to, and Papa tried to beat Frank to death, and then he did other things that really almost did kill Frank, but luckily Susie called 911.
It was Hell after, too. All that time in the hospital, and the stuff was on the news, and then Frank was sent to foster parents practically across the country. Those first ones were okay, except they also didn't believe Frank was a boy. They just tried to send him to a conversion therapist, who somehow luckily realized that there was no converting Frank and tipped off the social workers. Frank got new foster parents who accepted him, helped him get a name change, and even let him stay with them after he aged out of the foster system, until he could get his GED and see about college.
And then there was college, with his new name and his new clothes and finally being himself, and then the year of college, he met Jenna, and everything since then had been almost golden.
He could not sleep, crunched up in the driver's seat of the van with his head full of memories, so instead he just let it all play, the good and the bad, until it was almost sunrise and he needed to piss like a racehorse.
Then he got out of the van and went to knock at the door of the motel room. After he peed, he would ask Jenna if she minded taking the first shift driving today.
God had said that the wife should be the one to tend to the home and children, had he not? And yet, if the wife was unable to do some part of that, surely the man, in his free moments, should try and help. Thus, Derick would cook and would see that the children had breakfast, since Danna had such trouble sleeping, and then had trouble waking in the morning, especially when she was pregnant.
And if Danna's mother had never taught her to cook, well, that was the sin of Peggy Lynn Sooks, not her daughter. God would punish Peggy for her failures as a wife and mother.
Other than the sleeping trouble and the aversion to some of the arts of housewifery, Danna was excellent. She was really smart, figuring out how to put together all the social media stuff. And she was always ready to go whenever God told Derick they needed to pick up and move on. She greeted each trip, long or short, with joy, and she treated her other wifely obligations with equal joy.
Perhaps too much joy, sometimes. Danna, for example, took great joy in the act of procreation. That was good, of course, for they were to be fruitful and multiply and spread their family over the Earth to carry the Truth of God's message.
But the act of procreation, sacred and holy as it might be, was never something Derick greatly enjoyed. He did not, as he knew some husbands did, press his wife to fulfill her duties every night. In fact, their marriage had not been conssumated for nearly two months after the wedding, simply because Derick was disinclined. It took Danna reminding him that God's holy word also said a husband should satisfy his wife, and then they finally joined fully in their union.
Still, they did not do it often, unless Danna pressed Derick. As the years went on, she did so more and more, and so he let her have her desire. It was his duty as a husband.
Today, they would stay here. God had said they would be here about a week. Danna seemed happy with that, and the children seemed pleased as well.
They always seemed happiest when the family stopped wandering a while.
Derick had tried to explain to the children why they moved around so much, and why they must keep doing so. He thought perhaps the oldest two boys were beginning to understand. The little ones were still far from such wisdom, but there was time yet.
There was time.
2024.05.19 15:19 PepperSeed22 It Costed Her More
My friend and I planned a spur-of-the-moment trip to Texas. Round trip from NY to Houston was under $200 but her son is an airline employee and got her a buddy pass. I arranged my flight on a different airline to arrive and depart within minutes of hers so we'd meet up at the airport around the same time. We spent 5 days in an airbnb. There was a little dust on the ceiling fan so after 2 days she complained to airbnb headquarters and got a refund plus a credit towards another apartment. We ate out daily and daily she either complained about the food after she ate it and got a refund or another meal to go, on the house. We went to the mall and she stopped in Tiffany's to get complimentary Perrier water instead of just purchasing a drink in the mall. It was finally time to go home. Her flight took off first, mine was scheduled 15 minutes later. When I landed at JFK, I called her to let her know I landed and where to meet me as my daughter was there to drive us home. She said she was still in Houston... she was not able to get a seat on stand-by! Long story short, she wasn't seated on the next two flights and ended up having to wait until the following afternoon to finally get a flight home. She had to pay for a hotel overnight, buy her dinner, and possibly breakfast, and had to spend on an Uber ride home from NYC to Long Island, and that ain't cheap! She spent way more in one day than she saved over our 5 day trip!😁🤭
submitted by PepperSeed22 to My_friend_is_so_cheap [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 15:18 microwaved_ice_cream [REVIEW] Back from Ban Island!! Loewe Flamenco Mini in Burgundy + Gold from Hyper Peter
Hello Ladies and Gents, it’s been a while since I’ve been active in Rep-land but I am happy to be putting words back on print with a mini review for a mini bag! I have a few weddings to attend to this coming summer so I knew I would need a handy sidekick to spruce up my looks. Naturally, the purse closet had nothing to wear (y’all know what I mean) so I turned to social media to look for inspiration and found this mini beauty from Loewe! My sister was in the market for a Loewe Puzzle and she wanted to get one from Hyper Peter, so I tacked on asking about my Flamenco. Thank goodness for my handy rolodex of rep resources, HP had both bags we wanted in stock!! A little bit of a wait due to HP being on much needed vacation, but in the end, he delivered and happy to report both bags are stunning!
About the author: I am a Loewe Lover through and though. The Puzzle has my heart and I’ve convinced my sister to get one for herself. We frequent the Loewe store often and it’s been a bad habit of mine trying on their bags. I always wanted this mini Lambskin baby so when the situation presented itself, I decided to go for it and buy at the same time as my sister! Been a replady since OG RL days but stepped a way from Reddit for a bit to put a cap on my spending habits (it was going a bit overboard especially when I started buying 18K reps…)
PHOTO TIME!!
My photos ❤️
HP does not usually disclose factory or factory pics and I didn’t ask but I know he has amazing Loewe Puzzles. Example 1 / Example 2
NO PSPs Opted out because I am an old time buyer of his.
~Authentic on Loewe website~ And this review was helpful too for details and mod shots! Also Purseblog’s 60 second review.
Disclosure: I didn’t receive a discount or anything in exchange for this review
Seller: Hyper Peter
Whatsapp: +44-774-303-8638
Instagram: Hyperpeter7
Product: Loewe Flamenco Mini in Nappa Lambskin
Price: 1300 yuan plus 480 yuan (for shipping 2 bags) Fedex shipping no branded Loewe box total 1540 yuan or $213 usd
Paid by: Wise
Timeline:
⏳ Messaged Peter and paid on April 3
⏳ Confirmed with Peter that the bags are available April 3-4
⏳ Opted out of the PSPs because of the additional charge, Peter showed me pictures of the actual bag he sells and I figured it would be similar enough to it.
⏳ May 14 received the bags, worth the wait in my opinion!!
QUALITY:
1. THIS LEATHER IS BUTTERY!!! I can’t express how supple and luscious this lambskin is in words! It is incredibly soft, zero hint of dryness, thick yet malleable. It actually looks and feels very very close to the auth Loewe Flamenco I fondled at the store, buttery AF!
2. The pouch shape is correct, with correct stitching on the base of the bag and the top section that bunches up randomly in buttery folds (hence the name of the bag because the ruffles mimic a Flamenco dancer’s dress!) that look both elegant and casual at the same time. The opening of the pouch is cinched at the top with two leather knotted drawstring straps which can be used as the handles for this bag (as a low key clutch), but as a security feature, there’s also a magnetic closure that seals the opening of the bag, perfect for keeping your goodies in the bag!
3. This bag has not 1 but 2 straps! A beautiful “donut” ring strap with interwoven leather in alternate lacing and the second strap is an adjustable leather cinch strap that slides long and short depending on whether you want to use it as a shoulder bag or cross body!
4. The only other hardware of the bag is in the snap clasps which are nicely weighted and match the yellow gold tone of the donut chain. All function as needed.
ACCURACY:
1. Here are the dimensions of the auth Mini Flamenco: – Weight: 0.18 kg , Height : 17 cm ,Width : 23 cm , Depth : 5.5 cm. Admitedly I don’t have a scale so can’t weigh this bag myself but obviously for it’s size it’s very light. Here’s what I got for my measurements: Height : 17 cm, Width : 24 cm, Depth : 5 cm. I’d say this is a good match for the dimensions.
2. The first strap, the leather knotted version is removable and adjustable with a minimum length of 82 cm and max of 142 cm. The donut chain strap is 36 cm for mine.
3. The Donut strap gold tone is yellow, perhaps a touch more yellow than auth, but the luster and gloss is correct, it also is very dependent on lighting so I am not docking points off this because it’s verry hard to judge if you don’t have the auth next to it.
4. The shape, engravings and weight of the hardware are a good likeness for the auth. The snap hooks on the strap are the correct shape, have good functionality and are correctly branded with the Loewe logo.
5. Everything about the leather is just delicious. I can’t complain because I remember the auth being very similar in feel to the softness and density of this nappa lambskin. The burgundy shade is pretty much an exact match to the auth. The knotted drawstrings do not feel flimsy, the thickness and density are appreciated and even for a small bag, I don’t need to baby it.
6. The make/craftmanship of the bag is top notch. The suede lining is well lined, stitched well and no loose or faulty craftmanship anywhere. The pouch opening leather is well folded and stitched over.
7. I will deduct points for the thread being a shade too light compared to the auth. I am not too fussed about it but I did want to call that out for those who are concerned with the minute details. Taking one point off here.
8. Interior suede is thick, has good dense feeling and has a very nice texture. The interior datecode and logo match the auth well.
WFIMB:
Well this bag is teensy weensy, so other than my phone, a pack of issues, a cardholder, a compact and lipstick I am not really adding anything to it….I mean, what do you REALLY need at a wedding except for these few items?! A pack of gum or tictacs? Easy peasy, done deal. At any rate, whatever essentials you’d need for dressing up, this baby can handle it and that’s all you need in here anyways!
SATISFACTION:
I honestly didn’t expect to love this bag so much, but now I see any ladies love it and say it’s a good part of their collection. I was on the hunt for a small but practical bag, and with all the different ways this bag can be carried it’s quickly becoming a standout for any time I need a small elegant but functional bag for parties or nights out.
It’s my first burgundy colored bag (I was initially going to get the black) but I am glad I went for this pop of color. The burgundy is very deep, classy and understated in color but still pleasant to the eyes. I am not considering getting a puzzle in the dark burgundy as well just because this color is growing on me.
SELLER SATISFACTION:
Peter has always been one of my go to sellers. I know there have been many members who feel jilted that his communication has been few and far in between but I took the patient route and just waited for my bag to arrive (my order took over a month from start to finish, by the way). Perhaps it’s because I am a seasoned rep buyer and also a long time client of Peter’s so I was sure I would get my bag in the end. I find the best way to enjoy repping is to not stress over the small stuff and trust the process (and your gut of course). The mods here do an awesome job of guiding and advising when it comes to reviews and sellers so I knew that if I needed help, they’d have my back. But in all honesty, my bag arrived to me safely, my payment and ordering process were smooth sailing and the bag itself was certainly within my budget. For all these reasons and more, Peter will always have a top spot in my rep rolodex for reliable bags and service.
THE WRAP UP:
This bag is divine and being quite nonchalant about what others think or say, I would proudly wear this to any party or date night I go to. I would likely not flaunt it around my usual Loewe store (those SAs all recognize me) but I wouldn’t mind wearing it into a high end department store. My sister’s puzzle is absolutely accurate to the authentic though, I will help her write up a review for that one when I get a chance. I’d give Peter’s Loewe gold stars for the incredible value for the price!
submitted by microwaved_ice_cream to WagoonLadies [link] [comments]
About the author: I am a Loewe Lover through and though. The Puzzle has my heart and I’ve convinced my sister to get one for herself. We frequent the Loewe store often and it’s been a bad habit of mine trying on their bags. I always wanted this mini Lambskin baby so when the situation presented itself, I decided to go for it and buy at the same time as my sister! Been a replady since OG RL days but stepped a way from Reddit for a bit to put a cap on my spending habits (it was going a bit overboard especially when I started buying 18K reps…)
PHOTO TIME!!
My photos ❤️
HP does not usually disclose factory or factory pics and I didn’t ask but I know he has amazing Loewe Puzzles. Example 1 / Example 2
NO PSPs Opted out because I am an old time buyer of his.
~Authentic on Loewe website~ And this review was helpful too for details and mod shots! Also Purseblog’s 60 second review.
Disclosure: I didn’t receive a discount or anything in exchange for this review
Seller: Hyper Peter
Whatsapp: +44-774-303-8638
Instagram: Hyperpeter7
Product: Loewe Flamenco Mini in Nappa Lambskin
Price: 1300 yuan plus 480 yuan (for shipping 2 bags) Fedex shipping no branded Loewe box total 1540 yuan or $213 usd
Paid by: Wise
Timeline:
⏳ Messaged Peter and paid on April 3
⏳ Confirmed with Peter that the bags are available April 3-4
⏳ Opted out of the PSPs because of the additional charge, Peter showed me pictures of the actual bag he sells and I figured it would be similar enough to it.
⏳ May 14 received the bags, worth the wait in my opinion!!
QUALITY:
1. THIS LEATHER IS BUTTERY!!! I can’t express how supple and luscious this lambskin is in words! It is incredibly soft, zero hint of dryness, thick yet malleable. It actually looks and feels very very close to the auth Loewe Flamenco I fondled at the store, buttery AF!
2. The pouch shape is correct, with correct stitching on the base of the bag and the top section that bunches up randomly in buttery folds (hence the name of the bag because the ruffles mimic a Flamenco dancer’s dress!) that look both elegant and casual at the same time. The opening of the pouch is cinched at the top with two leather knotted drawstring straps which can be used as the handles for this bag (as a low key clutch), but as a security feature, there’s also a magnetic closure that seals the opening of the bag, perfect for keeping your goodies in the bag!
3. This bag has not 1 but 2 straps! A beautiful “donut” ring strap with interwoven leather in alternate lacing and the second strap is an adjustable leather cinch strap that slides long and short depending on whether you want to use it as a shoulder bag or cross body!
4. The only other hardware of the bag is in the snap clasps which are nicely weighted and match the yellow gold tone of the donut chain. All function as needed.
ACCURACY:
1. Here are the dimensions of the auth Mini Flamenco: – Weight: 0.18 kg , Height : 17 cm ,Width : 23 cm , Depth : 5.5 cm. Admitedly I don’t have a scale so can’t weigh this bag myself but obviously for it’s size it’s very light. Here’s what I got for my measurements: Height : 17 cm, Width : 24 cm, Depth : 5 cm. I’d say this is a good match for the dimensions.
2. The first strap, the leather knotted version is removable and adjustable with a minimum length of 82 cm and max of 142 cm. The donut chain strap is 36 cm for mine.
3. The Donut strap gold tone is yellow, perhaps a touch more yellow than auth, but the luster and gloss is correct, it also is very dependent on lighting so I am not docking points off this because it’s verry hard to judge if you don’t have the auth next to it.
4. The shape, engravings and weight of the hardware are a good likeness for the auth. The snap hooks on the strap are the correct shape, have good functionality and are correctly branded with the Loewe logo.
5. Everything about the leather is just delicious. I can’t complain because I remember the auth being very similar in feel to the softness and density of this nappa lambskin. The burgundy shade is pretty much an exact match to the auth. The knotted drawstrings do not feel flimsy, the thickness and density are appreciated and even for a small bag, I don’t need to baby it.
6. The make/craftmanship of the bag is top notch. The suede lining is well lined, stitched well and no loose or faulty craftmanship anywhere. The pouch opening leather is well folded and stitched over.
7. I will deduct points for the thread being a shade too light compared to the auth. I am not too fussed about it but I did want to call that out for those who are concerned with the minute details. Taking one point off here.
8. Interior suede is thick, has good dense feeling and has a very nice texture. The interior datecode and logo match the auth well.
WFIMB:
Well this bag is teensy weensy, so other than my phone, a pack of issues, a cardholder, a compact and lipstick I am not really adding anything to it….I mean, what do you REALLY need at a wedding except for these few items?! A pack of gum or tictacs? Easy peasy, done deal. At any rate, whatever essentials you’d need for dressing up, this baby can handle it and that’s all you need in here anyways!
SATISFACTION:
I honestly didn’t expect to love this bag so much, but now I see any ladies love it and say it’s a good part of their collection. I was on the hunt for a small but practical bag, and with all the different ways this bag can be carried it’s quickly becoming a standout for any time I need a small elegant but functional bag for parties or nights out.
It’s my first burgundy colored bag (I was initially going to get the black) but I am glad I went for this pop of color. The burgundy is very deep, classy and understated in color but still pleasant to the eyes. I am not considering getting a puzzle in the dark burgundy as well just because this color is growing on me.
SELLER SATISFACTION:
Peter has always been one of my go to sellers. I know there have been many members who feel jilted that his communication has been few and far in between but I took the patient route and just waited for my bag to arrive (my order took over a month from start to finish, by the way). Perhaps it’s because I am a seasoned rep buyer and also a long time client of Peter’s so I was sure I would get my bag in the end. I find the best way to enjoy repping is to not stress over the small stuff and trust the process (and your gut of course). The mods here do an awesome job of guiding and advising when it comes to reviews and sellers so I knew that if I needed help, they’d have my back. But in all honesty, my bag arrived to me safely, my payment and ordering process were smooth sailing and the bag itself was certainly within my budget. For all these reasons and more, Peter will always have a top spot in my rep rolodex for reliable bags and service.
THE WRAP UP:
This bag is divine and being quite nonchalant about what others think or say, I would proudly wear this to any party or date night I go to. I would likely not flaunt it around my usual Loewe store (those SAs all recognize me) but I wouldn’t mind wearing it into a high end department store. My sister’s puzzle is absolutely accurate to the authentic though, I will help her write up a review for that one when I get a chance. I’d give Peter’s Loewe gold stars for the incredible value for the price!
2024.05.19 15:08 DoGsPaWsLoVe Saturday 05/18/24: 11 Posts
Here is the recap of the 11 monetized posts from Kylea G Weight loss Journey on 05/18/24.
"Greed is a never-ending hunger, that drives people to sacrifice morals and values for personal gain." -Unknown
⚠️ Compulsive Buying Disorder (CBD), aka shopping addiction, Disordered Eating, Gaslighting, Grief, Illness, Infertility, TTC (trying to conceive) Community, and Religion will be discussed.
Disclaimers: I am not a physician, influencer, or paid content creator. I am not affiliated with WW. I am semi-retired from the healthcare field with multiple college degrees. These opinions are my own based on social media content. I wish no harm to Kylea or Joseph "Joe" Gomez.
☎️ If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, please call or text 988 for assistance.
Behind the Scenes Family Update: Kylea Gomez has been exploiting a life-changing medical diagnosis of a close relative (without their permission and against their wishes) to internet strangers in social media messages. She has claimed that she is supporting this relative (which is a lie) to justify her work ethic, productivity, and even basic hygiene issues. Let that sink in for a moment...
To this relative: You, your family, and your medical team are in my prayers. ✝️
To Kylea's Biological Parents: Your daughter disparages your name and relationship for personal and financial gain frequently. No concert, trip, or gift provided to you with money obtained under (allegedly) false and deceptive pretenses justifies Kylea's disturbing behaviors. Stop enabling her.
California Clarification: Kylea was rejected by a Cavapoo breeder from adopting the Original Birdie (OB) during her California trip. I am thankful to the breeders of OB for making a tough decision in the best interest of the puppy. For me, this seals the deal that Kylea falsified details of this California trip and rushed home to find Backup Birdie (BB), who is the focus of today's content.
The tagline of Kylea G Weight loss Journey is, "I changed my entire life with prayer and a playlist of songs. No surgery, no meds. Just Jesus."
DAILY STATS: 05/18/24
0/11 posts discussed prayer
0/11 posts discussed music
0/11 posts discussed exercise
3/11 posts discussed a recipe
1/11 posts was about takeout "coffee" at 5 am
7/11 posts were about Birdie Mae 🐶
📢 For our friends at Meta, that means 63% of Kylea's monetized content had nothing to do with weight loss, which is the tagline and purpose of her page. Her weight loss journey ended July 2023 per her content. Why do you continue to pay her for non-weight loss content?
⚠️ Disordered Eating- Daily WW Points Used (Data compiled from monetized content):
1 WW Point: Crazy Llama "coffee" with almond milk, sugar-free vanilla, sugar-free peppermint, and sugar-free white chocolate
3 WW Points: Taco Soup with 12 Trader Joe's Rolled Corn Chili & Lime flavored Tortilla Chips
📢 For our friends at Meta, Kylea consumed 4 WW points out of (up to) 30 daily WW points= SEVERE disordered eating. This messaging is deadly for those on a weight loss journey. Follow your policies and take action.
Recipes Shared: 1. Taco Soup: 🚨 This recipe has dangerous sodium levels. Please know your daily sodium recommendations before making this recipe. 🚨
Comments: To the animal lovers, I am sending you good vibes to get through this nonsense. Here we go...
To all individuals in the TTC Community, I know the 🌈 is a powerful symbol for you. I have experienced pregnancy loss and fertility care. My heart hurts for anyone triggered by the language Kylea uses and humanizing pets in reference to pregnancy loss. 🙏
Final thoughts: Money reveals people's true colors. 👀 Buckle in for a nauseating amount of BB nontent.
Takeout: Crazy Llama takeout for 2: $16 est + tip;
All info from Reddit. ✌️
submitted by DoGsPaWsLoVe to KyleaGomezsnark [link] [comments]
"Greed is a never-ending hunger, that drives people to sacrifice morals and values for personal gain." -Unknown
⚠️ Compulsive Buying Disorder (CBD), aka shopping addiction, Disordered Eating, Gaslighting, Grief, Illness, Infertility, TTC (trying to conceive) Community, and Religion will be discussed.
Disclaimers: I am not a physician, influencer, or paid content creator. I am not affiliated with WW. I am semi-retired from the healthcare field with multiple college degrees. These opinions are my own based on social media content. I wish no harm to Kylea or Joseph "Joe" Gomez.
☎️ If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, please call or text 988 for assistance.
Behind the Scenes Family Update: Kylea Gomez has been exploiting a life-changing medical diagnosis of a close relative (without their permission and against their wishes) to internet strangers in social media messages. She has claimed that she is supporting this relative (which is a lie) to justify her work ethic, productivity, and even basic hygiene issues. Let that sink in for a moment...
To this relative: You, your family, and your medical team are in my prayers. ✝️
To Kylea's Biological Parents: Your daughter disparages your name and relationship for personal and financial gain frequently. No concert, trip, or gift provided to you with money obtained under (allegedly) false and deceptive pretenses justifies Kylea's disturbing behaviors. Stop enabling her.
California Clarification: Kylea was rejected by a Cavapoo breeder from adopting the Original Birdie (OB) during her California trip. I am thankful to the breeders of OB for making a tough decision in the best interest of the puppy. For me, this seals the deal that Kylea falsified details of this California trip and rushed home to find Backup Birdie (BB), who is the focus of today's content.
The tagline of Kylea G Weight loss Journey is, "I changed my entire life with prayer and a playlist of songs. No surgery, no meds. Just Jesus."
DAILY STATS: 05/18/24
0/11 posts discussed prayer
0/11 posts discussed music
0/11 posts discussed exercise
3/11 posts discussed a recipe
1/11 posts was about takeout "coffee" at 5 am
7/11 posts were about Birdie Mae 🐶
📢 For our friends at Meta, that means 63% of Kylea's monetized content had nothing to do with weight loss, which is the tagline and purpose of her page. Her weight loss journey ended July 2023 per her content. Why do you continue to pay her for non-weight loss content?
⚠️ Disordered Eating- Daily WW Points Used (Data compiled from monetized content):
1 WW Point: Crazy Llama "coffee" with almond milk, sugar-free vanilla, sugar-free peppermint, and sugar-free white chocolate
3 WW Points: Taco Soup with 12 Trader Joe's Rolled Corn Chili & Lime flavored Tortilla Chips
📢 For our friends at Meta, Kylea consumed 4 WW points out of (up to) 30 daily WW points= SEVERE disordered eating. This messaging is deadly for those on a weight loss journey. Follow your policies and take action.
Recipes Shared: 1. Taco Soup: 🚨 This recipe has dangerous sodium levels. Please know your daily sodium recommendations before making this recipe. 🚨
- Taco Rice Bowls: The soup is drained and added to 1 minute jalapeño rice with cheese. 🚨 The sodium alert is the same as above. 🚨
Comments: To the animal lovers, I am sending you good vibes to get through this nonsense. Here we go...
- Coffee at 5am: Kylea and Joe are pictured in their vehicle outside Crazy Llama Coffee with the sun shining bright. Kylea claims she was home at 5 am, and Joe took her right away to get her "favorite coffee."
- Backup Birdie Part 1: Her airline approved pet travel accessory backpack is shown in the vehicle. "All my dog mom dreams are coming true today 💖 🐶"
- Backup Birdie Part 2: "My heart is so full!!! 💖 🐶 I got the cuddliest, cutest, sweetest girl. 😭 I cried when I met my puppy for the first time because I love her so much already!!"
- Taco Soup Recipe: 🚨 This sodium monstrosity has canned beans, jarred salsa, enchilada sauce, rotel, roasted corn, a ranch seasoning packet, a taco seasoning packet, fresh chicken, and water. 😲
- Backup Birdie Part 3: "Welcome home 🏠 to our forever girl 🎀 Birdie Mae 🐶 She's already following Joseph and I around and has brought us so much joy. 🌈 🎀"
To all individuals in the TTC Community, I know the 🌈 is a powerful symbol for you. I have experienced pregnancy loss and fertility care. My heart hurts for anyone triggered by the language Kylea uses and humanizing pets in reference to pregnancy loss. 🙏
- Backup Birdie Part 4: "The moment I held her, I just knew she was meant for me.🎀 🐶 She loves all of the cuddles which is good because I do too. 💖"
- Taco Soup Part 2: 🚨 Since it wasn't salty enough, why not put some chili & lime tortilla chips on top? Chef's 💋. Kylea held the bowl, showing her barefoot on the floor. I did NOT miss her feet content. 🤢
- Backup Birdie Part 5: "We already love her so much 🎀 💖" BB is asleep in a fuzzy blanket on her puppy bed.
- Backup Birdie Part 6: Within 30 minutes of this writer posting info in Reddit chat of how to file an animal complaint in Joplin, MO as a PSA (not a threat) encouraging Kylea & Joe to be crystal clear about Alice's whereabouts, a picture of Joe cuddling BB with Alice behind him on the couch is posted. "Joseph loves Birdie Mae too 💖 🐶 So far she loves to sleep 😴"
- Taco Soup Part 3: 🚨 No more takeout for Joe! He gets to eat Taco Soup Rice Bowls for work lunches this week.
- Backup Birdie Part 7: A 12-second video is shared of BB playing with a squeaky toy on the carpet.
Final thoughts: Money reveals people's true colors. 👀 Buckle in for a nauseating amount of BB nontent.
Takeout: Crazy Llama takeout for 2: $16 est + tip;
All info from Reddit. ✌️
2024.05.19 15:00 AutoModerator Sunday Daily Chat Thread
Welcome to the daily chat thread! These are a a place to talk with fellow WLW (Women Loving Women) about whatever you like. The threads will show up five days a week. The two days without chat threads are Selfie Saturday and Wedding Wednesday, so save your photos for those days.
Daily threads go up at 9am EST every day and remain stickied on the front page until the next day's thread replaces it.
submitted by AutoModerator to actuallesbians [link] [comments]
Daily threads go up at 9am EST every day and remain stickied on the front page until the next day's thread replaces it.
2024.05.19 14:56 ChoosyBumblebee My autoflower lab, May 19, 2024
 | Got a lot of stuff cooking up in the lab. submitted by ChoosyBumblebee to HumanBumblebee [link] [comments]
|
2024.05.19 14:25 No_Wind_0930 I want to make my father learn a lesson
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
submitted by No_Wind_0930 to u/No_Wind_0930 [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 14:14 DOLLAR_POST Adding flora to my in-laws' 40th wedding anniversary photo
 | My in-laws are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary this year and are planning a big party. For their invitation card, they want to feature this specific wedding photo. submitted by DOLLAR_POST to PhotoshopRequest [link] [comments] They'd love to see the cars, road, and house in the background, basically everything behind them, replaced with some natural scenery - trees, bushes, or plants typical of Western Europe. The stone road they're on should stay as is, at least what makes sense to keep. I've tried using some AI tools, but I don’t have the skills to get the desired result. We would greatly appreciate any help. We're also happy to tip! https://preview.redd.it/m30sgk3lkd1d1.jpg?width=1166&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d43f619642668a49b71923df5c5b421af66247c6 |