I have been dating my boyfriend for only 6 months, it felt like heaven in the first few months. He came to my door with flowers on our first date. First man to ever do so. But I’m finding out he doesn’t really do anything romantic. It’s like being friends who kiss, cuddle, & sleep together. If we go on a date it’s because I planned it. I spent $1k towards his birthday for gifts, decoration, and to take him and I as well as his friend to dinner on his birthday. For Christmas he bought me my favorite gummy’s and wrote me a card, he said he had something for me and so I went and bought a dartboard for him as well as a card before knowing what he had for me. Marriage has been on the table since we started dating. We are dating to marry each other. Not anytime soon, there’s no rush, but in the future kind of talk. His budget for a ring is $1k 😢 the amount I spent on his birthday, and only 1/3 of a months pay for him. We are young and things are expensive but I make less than him now and I’m even saving more. I would save for years for a ring for him. He spends more on parts and tools for his truck than me. I lost my favorite ring at his place awhile back and I’ve communicated that I wish he’d buy me another or that I would like a necklace with his initial on it. But nothing… we talked about this a while ago and I told him there was a lack of effort and that hurt him. But I’m hurting.

The specific thing that got me wondering was hearing Satan say something like "Goll!" in place of something like God or Gosh when something had gone wrong (getting the wrong birthday cake). Then I realized that I've definitely heard other characters say the same thing in frustration, but I've never heard that phrase anywhere else either in real life or any kind of media.
Which made me wonder is it regional? I don't know a single thing about how a Colorado native would talk or what they would be like at all.
I can't think of much else for examples right now but this show seems to have a lot of word choices that seem odd or have a slightly colloquial seeming quality to them. When I was growing up in the 90s I remember Ro Sham Bo being a completely different game from what they had on the show - I've totally forgotten what the game was that I knew, because thr South Park version has taken over my brain. And when they were calling handjobs "an old fashioned", I've heard a lot of dirty phrases before but never that before I'd watched that episode.
Also, Cartman in general, especially the older seasons. Again I'm bad with examples (absolutely none this time), but he has this particular way of talking - not accent as much as what I've been saying all along, odd word choices - that sticks out a bit more than some of the others.
Even if I'm dead wrong on all of these being examples of regional stuff, does anyone know anything in the show that is? I'd like to know, if for no other reason than I don't exactly know what Colorado's "identity" is other than B r o n c o s, and this show giving us a glimpse at it would be pretty cool.

Yes, I was arrested. It's been at least 5 years since I served my debt to society and tried to live a normal life. Don't think I'm trying to make excuses and repeat a well-known cliché, but I really had a rough childhood. I lost my father in a work accident, and shortly after, my mother succumbed to alcoholism. If I wanted to eat, I had to learn to beg... or steal. So, it wasn't hard to get involved in more serious things, dangerous groups, and bad influences. That's the recipe for ending up in jail at 21.
Even though I had some run-ins with the police and even spent a night in the local precinct cell, nothing prepared me for what I would face behind bars. I got there and felt weak, like the kid I was, just a child who had barely left diapers and already thought he ruled the block. There were many internal rules there, and you'd be surprised how respectful men who broke the law could be with each other. There were certain ethical norms, and in cases of disrespect, the "Court" came into play.
The "Court" was a group formed by Francis, the boss of a faction, and some of his trusted men; they judged some issues and decided punishments, which could range from doing the laundry for the guy you offended for the rest of the week to something heavier. The guards didn't even bother, actually, it seemed to work well and saved them some trouble, and in return, Francis and his buddies received some "perks" like cigarettes and chocolates.
Some of the most notable rules in jail were: "Never cut in line at the cafeteria," "Don't touch others' things without permission," and "Don't disrespect other inmates' visits." All of this seemed normal and reasonable, but there was one specific rule that bothered me: Never look at the painting on the wall of cell 11. I remember hearing some murmurs down the corridor from time to time, but the first time I understood the issue was on a night when old Munford was telling his stories.
Old Munford was a card-carrying swindler, used to deceive people with a mask of senility, and as you might expect, prison was a gold mine for him, where his skills of smooth talk and diplomacy fit well along with, of course, an excellent talent for storytelling to pass time on nights when it was too hot to sleep early. That particular night, the conversation revolved around the unwritten rules of the prison, and that's when Munford mentioned the mysterious rule of cell 11.
"Listen up, lads," he said with a tone of seriousness that grabbed everyone's attention. "In cell 11, there's a painting on the wall, and there's a very clear rule about it: never, under any circumstances, look directly at it."
The murmurs spread throughout the circle of inmates.
"It was painted by a guy who passed through here a long time ago for killing his own mother. He was locked up in solitary confinement in cell 11, and during a psychotic episode, he used something that no one really knows what it is to paint the eye. They say that since then, strange things happen to those who defy this rule, from terrible nightmares to disappearances."
"Alright old man, enough of scaring the ladies," Francis's voice interrupted, and I swear I could see some inmates jump in fright.
Some colleagues nervously laughed, trying to dissipate the heavy atmosphere that had settled. I, on the other hand, couldn't shake those words from my head. The painting in cell 11, the psychotic murderer, the stories of nightmares and disappearances... All of it intrigued me in a way I hadn't expected.
That night, lying in my own cell, the thought of the painting haunted me. I couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister loomed over that macabre art. Days passed, and I did my best to avoid any mention of cell 11 even though I thought about it all the time. It was a kind of obsession mixed with fear and apprehension; I longed to know more, but I didn't have the courage to ask. However, fate, or perhaps my own imprudence, decided to play with me.
I was playing basketball on one of the sports nights we had in the yard when Bob, a big, tall guy, threw himself against me to prevent a basket I was about to make. I felt my body collide with Bob's, and for a moment, the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. I found myself awkwardly falling to the ground, the sound of my body hitting the concrete echoing in my mind. As I tried to catch my breath, I saw Bob's face, contorted in a mixture of anger and triumph. He knew he had taken me down.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing pain spreading through me, and struggled to get up. Bob was laughing, a guttural sound that seemed to resonate in my ears. It only fueled my irritation. I wanted to retaliate, but I knew it would only result in bigger problems. So, I swallowed my wounded pride and moved on, trying to focus on the game.
But when the game ended and everyone began to disperse, I felt a heavy gaze upon me. It was Bob, staring at me with a disturbing intensity. I frowned, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was watching me. It wasn't like I had never faced intimidating stares before, but there was something different about the way he was looking at me, something that sent shivers down my spine.
I tried to ignore him and move on, but his presence hung over me like a shadow. As I walked away from the court, I felt a chill run down my spine. I decided to head back to my cell, hoping to find some peace and quiet there. But, upon arrival, I was met with an unpleasant surprise. The guard responsible for the corridor, Tulley, was standing in front of cell 11, with the door open and staring inside, mouth agape.
"Hey, Tulley?" I asked, approaching at a safe distance. "Guard Tulley?" I leaned toward him.
Suddenly, his neck jerked, his face slowly began to turn to face me. Now, the moonlight caught his face very well, illuminating the pale skin that reflected like a beacon in that dark corridor. I could see now the tear streaks down his cheek, his eyes staring at me with an irritated red hue, as if he hadn't blinked in a while. Without changing the expression on his face, a scream poured from his throat along with a thick strand of saliva.
My legs started to tremble as I watched that surreal scene unfold before me. Part of me wanted to run away as fast as possible, but another part was paralyzed by fear and morbid curiosity. What the hell was happening to him?
Tulley continued to stare at me with his bloodshot eyes, emitting that shrill scream that echoed through the empty prison corridors. I could feel my heart pounding irregularly in my chest as my mind tried to find a logical explanation for it all. The guard then staggered towards me, with a wobbly step, and placed his hand on my shoulder. I felt the grip tightening.
"Tulley, please!" I said louder, not to him, but to see if it would attract the attention of someone who could help. He put the other hand, even stronger, his face now inches from mine, allowing me to smell an acidic odor emanating from his hoarse voice, now his nails digging into my uniform, and I could hear them entering my skin, tearing "STOP! PLEASE!"
My screams attracted another guard, who intervened in the situation before things got even more out of control. It took two more colleagues to get him off me, and three more to take him away from there, while I remained trembling and trying to process what had just happened. My whole body was tense, muscles contracted by fear and adrenaline. I couldn't get the image of Tulley's face out of my mind.
My mind automatically returned to the stories Munford had told about cell 11 and the wall. Did that have any connection to what I had just witnessed? Was there really something painted on the wall? I looked at that open door, the number 11 engraved on the door's lead. It seemed to invite me, to mess with me. I could go there, see what was inside the cell, no one would need to know, right?
I found myself raising my hand without even realizing it, heading towards the door, ready to open it a little more and see inside the cell, when a voice echoed behind me in the corridor, calling my name. I jumped out of the trance startled, and turned to see the nurse, who was calling me to be taken to the infirmary.
"These are pretty nasty injuries," she commented, as she examined the wounds.
"It was nothing," I tried to sound tough. The only thing I noticed was the surreal beauty of the woman I hadn't seen before. I saw the name "Linda" pinned to her badge. "I've been through much worse on the streets, Linda."
"Miss Linda" she corrected, tightening the bandage knot with a hint of annoyance at the taunt. I let out a small "ouch" of discomfort, and I could see a small smile forming on her face.
"And Tulley?" I continued, trying to change the subject. "He, well, seemed strange, very strange tonight."
Linda's expression instantly changed upon hearing the guard's name, her eyes darkening slightly, and a shadow of concern crossing her face.
"We still don't have much information. It seems to be a psychotic episode; we had to sedate him," she shook her head, pointing to the stretcher behind me, where he now lay peacefully, in contrast to moments before.
"A psychotic episode?" I repeated, my voice sounding more like a whisper than I would have liked. "Does... does this happen here often?"
Linda hesitated for a moment, as if pondering what to say.
"Not so often, but it happens," she finally replied, carefully choosing her words. "The environment in here can be... challenging for some. Not everyone can handle the pressure."
A guard entered, requesting the girl's services for a sick inmate. She quickly adjusted the IV in my vein and bid me farewell, saying that I would be under observation that night. That early morning in the infirmary was long and restless. As I lay on the stretcher, watching the shadows dance on the walls in the dim light of the lamp, my mind was in turmoil. The image of Tulley's contorted face, his red and empty eyes, continued to haunt my thoughts.
Whenever I tried to close my eyes, that memory came back, until, irritated, I decided that I would sleep one way or another. I began to ignore the thoughts and try to induce sleep, no matter how shallow. Gradually, I calmed down, clearing that terrible picture from my mind, when I felt something strange. A tingling sensation took over my body, I felt my face start to warm up, and a familiar smell in the air. I could smell that acidic odor coming from Tulley's mouth, now, right in my nose, I started to tremble, the palms of my hands sweating as I thought it was a vivid nightmare... wishful thinking.
I opened my eyes only for my heart to race abnormally. There, with his face almost lying on mine, with his eyes glazed and his mouth wide open in a silent scream, was Tulley, standing. I could see the empty stretcher and the sheets on the floor. On his arm, the needle now disconnected from the IV dripped blood all over the floor, in a darker tone than normal.
Panic took hold of me as I stared at that surreal scene before my eyes. I wanted to do something, scream for help, but it was as if I were in sleep paralysis. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but my throat seemed closed, as if fear had completely taken over me. Tulley remained there, motionless like a statue, with those empty eyes and the mouth open in a silent scream. Blood slowly dripped from his disconnected needle, forming small dark puddles on the infirmary floor.
Finally, after an eternity, I managed to gather the strength to move. With a tremendous effort, I reached for the button that called for help and pressed it with all my might. Soon, the guards came running towards me, and I pointed to that flesh statue, trying to explain what had happened. They quickly took control of the situation, removing Tulley from the infirmary and calling a medical team to check his condition.
I still wake up occasionally trembling and sweating, with the image of the guard staring at me. On some warmer nights, I can even smell the ocher odor escaping from his mouth. I returned to my cell the next day, and Tulley never returned to duty; they say he spent the rest of his days in a mental institution. But at that moment, considering all my ignorance, I could only wonder one thing as I stared at the metal bars: What the hell was in cell 11?

Source: Langenscheidt Grundwortschatz

• https://www.langenscheidt.com/shop/deutsch/schule-studium/wortschatz/langenscheidt-grundwortschatz-deutsch-als-fremdsprache-978-3-12-563184-7
• https://www.langenscheidt.com/shop/englisch/selbstlernen/wortschatz/langenscheidt-grundwortschatz-englisch-978-3-12-563562-3
• https://www.langenscheidt.com/shop/spanisch/selbstlernen/wortschatz/langenscheidt-grundwortschatz-spanisch-978-3-12-563565-4
• https://www.langenscheidt.com/shop/italienisch/selbstlernen/wortschatz/langenscheidt-grundwortschatz-italienisch-978-3-12-563564-7
• https://www.langenscheidt.com/shop/franzoesisch/selbstlernen/wortschatz/langenscheidt-grundwortschatz-franzoesisch-978-3-12-563563-0

- The vocabulary has been selected on the basis of frequency of use and current relevance. The words and phrases are arranged by topic, each covering a different aspect of everyday life. - For most words, there is also an example of the word in use in a typical sentence. Exceptions are specific terms such as food, animals and plants, the meaning of which can be clearly understood with the English translation. - Professional speakers have recorded the complete vocabulary and the sample sentences. Some sample sentences from the book edition were slightly modified to make listening comprehension easier.

These decks are based on my Langenscheidt Grundwortschatz decks with two new card types added and a few additional changes for people who don't speak or learn German.

Changes

• The topics in German were translated to English.
• (French, Spanish and Italian) The original German translation was replaced with the English translation using my DeepL Translator - AnkiWeb add-on.
• The example sentences were extracted and added into two new subdecks using the "Basic" (Recognition) and "Cloze" (Production / Type Answer / Fluent Forever) card types.
• There's only one image so far.

Screenshots

https://preview.redd.it/y1d0f556u8zc1.png?width=1462&format=png&auto=webp&s=e7fc09cee8f536beb1db8cff94d16d2118f1cd01
https://preview.redd.it/gyiqlxu6u8zc1.png?width=732&format=png&auto=webp&s=0015340ba1d157915f95ae86c416d62c73607932
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Download

• English - https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/1796703467
• Italian - https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/141256388
• French - https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/1032464445
• Spanish - https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/1474354237
• German - https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/507517836

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Contact Details for Hiraedu Helper:
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• Acellus ALEKS Aplia APEX Learning Badgr Blackboard Blink Learning Brightspace / D2L Canvas Cengage CengageNow Childsmath Cisco ConnectMath Connexus CPM Crowdmark EViews Edmentum Examity Excel Garch Google Classroom Google Education Gradescope Hawkes Learning Honorlock iClicker InQuizitive (Norton) Java Kaltura Khan Academy Knewton Kryterion LaunchPad MATLAB Maple MasteringChemistry MasteringPhysics MathXL Mathematica McGraw-Hill Connect MegaStat Microsoft Teams Microsoft Access, Word, Excel, PowerPoint Mindtap Minitab MonitorEDU Moodle MyAccountingLab MyEconLab MyFinanceLab MyITLab MyMathLab MyOpenMath MyPsychLab MySocLab MyStatLab NCSS Outlier Pearson MyLab and Mastering Piazza PlatoWeb Prezi Proctor360 Proctorio Proctortrack Python R Respondus Lockdown Browser with Webcam SAM Sapling SAS SPSS Socrative Stata StraighterLine Turnitin VoiceThread WebAssign WebEx WebWork Wiley WileyPlus Zoom

TOP 20 REASONS WHY I'M THE MOST LEGIT EXAM, HW, ONLINE CLASS TUTOR ON REDDIT:

1. U.S. Citizenship Status: I have native-born U.S. citizenship status, an 100% authentic & natural U.S. American accent, and a verified New Jersey, USA residence. I can speak on the phone professionally in both perfect native U.S. English and fluent Canadian English.
2. U.S. 212 Phone Number: I have a verified U.S. American business phone number with the prestigious 212 area code (212-380-1856 - Ext 3) that can both send & receive phone calls, texts, voicemails, photos, and website links.
3. Social Media Verified: I have an active & verified online social media presence with my name and contact info regularly showing up on all major search engines including: Google, Yahoo, and Bing.
4. Professional Website: I have a professional, well-designed, well-written, 100% secure SEO-optimized WordPress business themed website: hiraedu.com
5. Team of U.S. Academic Experts: I and my team of dedicated academic experts complete all types of academic coursework for students in most math, English, science, business, humanities, social Sciences, computer programming, and foreign language classes on a 24/7/365 full-time round-the-clock basis. This is not some part-time gig for me. It’s literally my primary source of income. I can regularly make myself available to help students with last-minute & same-day academic requests.
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8. Can Change IP Address: I have multiple reliable VPN software including: NordVPN, SurfShark & ExpressVPN that allows me to successfully change my computer’s original New Jersey IP address to any major city in the U.S. & Canada to avoid raising red flags with students’ online class software.
9. Proctored Exam Help: I have developed multiple highly effective methods of helping students with exams, tests, and quizzes that are proctored by software like: Respondus Lockdown Browser with Webcam, Honorlock, Examity, Proctorio, Proctor360, Proctortrack, and ProProctor using 3 highly effective proven methods. Option 1 - WhatsApp: I use WhatsApp to have the student discreetly text me photos of the exam questions outside of the webcam’s view and I text them the correct solutions to the exam questions. Option 2 - Screen Share: Using screen share software like Zoom to see the student’s screen displaying the exam questions and I text the correct solutions. Option 3 - Remote PC Access & Control: Using remote computer access software like to control the student’s mouse and keyboard from my own computer.
10. Study Help Apps: I have over 15+ paid subscriptions to a wide range of study help apps, software, websites, and programs to help me solve exam & homework questions faster and more efficiently. Some of these resources include: Brainly, Chegg, CourseHero, Quizlet, SymboLab & WolframAlpha.
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14. Flexible Payment Methods: I offer negotiable rates, multiple payment methods (PayPal, Venmo, Cash App, Zelle, anonymous credit & debit card payments via online invoice), and flexible payment plans: weekly (most expensive), monthly, half-now / half-later, and all-up-front (least expensive).
15. Money Back Guarantee: I have won multiple academic awards for my exceptional skills & expertise in math. I guarantee overall A & B grades for all coursework completed. Plus. I also offer a 50% refund for C+, C, and C- scores, and a full 100% refund for D+, D, D-, and F scores.

HOW I CALCULATE FINAL RATES:

• Exams & Quizzes: Final rates for exams and quizzes depend on various factors including: whether or not there is proctoring, how many hours the exam is, total number of questions including sub-parts, preferred method of me delivering solutions, whether it's show all work or just the answer only, and whether the assessment has a flexible window of time to complete or a fixed & rigid start and end time.
• Full Courses: Final rates for full class help depend all the foregoing plus: total number of hw, quizzes, exams, discussion posts, and other academic tasks left that need to be completed, total number of weeks or modules left in the class to complete, and whether there is required multi factor authentication for logging in like Duo Push or text passcode.
• Essays Papers Discussion Posts: Final rates for writing tasks depend on the required number of words or pages. topic of interest, type of citations, required number and type of sources & bibliography style , level of research required, and type of additional software required to complete the essay like: Excel, R, or Minitab.

ABOUT MY RATES & PAYMENT OPTIONS:

• Rationale for My Rates: I sincerely believe my rates are more than fair considering my education, skills, native born U.S. resident status, legitimacy, and the substantial amount of value, stress relief, and saved time & energy I’d be providing you in exchange for my valuable, irretrievable time, energy, and effort.
• Disclaimer About Rates: Completing someone else's exam, essay, or homework assignment is obviously NOT something you can just freely ask anyone to do, especially on the internet. Therefore, such help should be well-compensated. Services that are reliable and deliver high-quality results are difficult to find and are very high in demand. Thus, I expect to be compensated fairly for all the value, stress relief, and saved time & energy my services provide. However, I may be willing to negotiate rates if necessary.
• Payment Methods: I accept PayPal (required for all Canadian students), Venmo, Zelle, Cash App, and anonymous credit & debit card payments via online invoice.
• Payment Plans: I offer the following payment plans for my services: weekly (most expensive), monthly, half-now / half-later, and all upfront (least expensive).
• Money Back Guarantee: I guarantee the following grades for coursework completed: A+. A, A-, B+, B. and B-. However, I offer a 50% refund for C+, C, and C- grades, and a full 100% refund for D+, D, D-, and F grades.

CURRENT RATES -- AS OF SUMMER / FALL 2022 -- SUBJECT TO CHANGE:

• Full Class Help Rates: $595 – $2495 USD
• Exam & Test Help Rates: $150 – $350 USD
• Quiz Help Rates: $60 – $180 USD
• HW Assignment Help Rates: $60 – $420 USD
• Essay & Paper Writing Help Rates: $19 – $29 USD per 300 words

THE OBLIGATORY "IS THIS A SCAM?" QUESTION:
Considering the fact that you found my contact information online, it’s understandable to be skeptical regarding the legitimacy of my services. Therefore, I’m willing to do all of the following to help you feel more secure in trusting me with your academic needs:

• Engage in a Telephone interview: Speak with you on the phone and answer any questions you may have so that you have the opportunity to assess and analyze my tone, articulation, and accent. I’m a New Jersey-born Irish/Italian-American, but I have been told that I speak in an erudite & articulate suburban American accent with a “professor style” voice somewhat resembling the voice of actor: Ben Stein.
• Provide Telephone References: Provide you with the contact information of students who have utilized my services in the past who would be more than willing to vouch for my skills.

MY REBUTTAL TO THE OBLIGATORY “IS THIS A SCAM?” QUESTION:
At the risk of sounding arrogant, I consider myself to be at least marginally more intelligent (both academically & socially) than the average person. Therefore, if I ever decided to suddenly risk prison time, risk my reputation, and risk enduring the wrath of modern-day “cancel culture” by scamming people out of their money:

• Not Worth the Money: I certainly wouldn’t do it for such paltry amounts of money. (i.e., anything less than $1,000 per victim.)
• Most Students are Broke: I certainly wouldn’t choose high school & college students as my “target audience” to scam, considering that most people without college degrees have abysmally low annual incomes.
• Waste of Time & Energy: Communicating back and forth with potential clients is an absurdly long time sink since only less than 10% of all potential clients who reach out to me actually become paying clients of mine.
• All My Payment Apps are Still Active: If you pay me to provide academic services and I don’t deliver, you can always dispute the payment with the payment app and easily get your money refunded. If I were in the habit of swindling money from people, then all of my payment accounts would have been investigated and be completely shut down by now.

CONCLUSION:

• My Mission: Thank you for taking the time to read my Reddit post. I take what I do very seriously and I always strive to get the highest possible grades for all students who entrust me with their coursework.
• Closing Words: Please feel free to reach out to me if you're sincerely interested in having help you with your school work. I am available via text, email, and call almost 24/7/365.

Contact Details for Hiraedu Helper:
WhatsApp: +1 (213) 594-5657
Call: +1 727 456 9641
Website: hiraedu. com
Email: info@hiraedu. com
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Hi,
I've met this wonderful woman for slightly less than 2 years. We get along great and she is almost everything I could wish for.
We're early 30s Scandinavians. Things have moved super quick and about 8 months into the relationship she got pregnant. Things felt good, we decided to keep the baby, moved in together and she recently gave birth to a healthy, cute boy.
By the time she got pregnant, I had met GF’s mother once or twice. She is the only living close relative my GF has, as her father is dead and she has no siblings.
About 2 months into the pregnancy, the problems started.
My MIL is a retired woman. She raised my GF herself and is ethnic Russian + Catholic. This in itself causes some cultural clashes with liberal Scandinavian Lutheran culture. Furthermore, she most certainly has ADHD, probably borderline and is very depressed. During a period of 3 years she has lost her husband, her brother and two sisters.
She is super dominant and controlling towards my GF. They fight often. My GF literally ran away from home when she was nineteen and didn't speak to her mother for a full year.
Because of the death of MIL:s husband, she had to sell (one of 3) condos of some 150 sqm. It was owned in her husband's name and the other shareholders didn't accept her as part-owner in the building (she is too difficult to reason with). She had a fixed due date to sell the apartment and clean it out. A very fixed date or this goes to court and she's forced to sell for a much lower price.
However, she is a massive hoarder and the flat was filled to the brim with stuff. Nightmare project. GF asked me to help out, which I did of course. Probably 80-100 hours in total. Filled hundred of boxes. It should have taken 20 hrs max though.
During most of the time, MIL was hysterical and completely unreasonable as she was stressed out about the deadline… GF and I would pack ten boxes => MIL turns them upside they because “they weren't sorted right”. However she could never organize things because of her ADHD. Start over, rinse and repeat. I've moved like ten (small) truck loads between apartments and three self-storage units. Often the same exact boxes going back and forth.
GF hired moving firms, cleaners, lawyers to stall the other condo shareholders. Spent like 40K EUR.
Not once did MIL say thanks. Most of the time she spent yelling at my GF, but also me, her friends who helped out and generally anyone she came across. She doesn't have so many friends left.
She also has opinions about EVERYTHING. Mostly unwanted opinions. How my GF feeds the baby, what my GF eats, how she dresses, what I do and so on. My GF is a appreantly a bad mother and I'm apparently an unsatisfactory partner and father.
I've been on very friendly terms with all of my ex girlfriends parents, but I'm choking on this.
My GF has said that I must never talk back to her mom, or defend my GF, as MIL doesn't forgive. My GF can hold her own, she is not weak. I've held my tongue, but it's been extremely difficult to control my steadily rising anger. I'm not a fucking pushover and I tolerate no unwarranted disrespect. However not once have I previously lost my temper, despite her being rude and mean almost every single time I've met her. I
I've really, really tried ro be nice to her, even when she is an ass. Not once have I been anything but polite to her.
I get that my MIL doesn't feel well, but that doesn't excuse her taking it out on everyone else. My GF has literally said “TS, if this was your family acting this way I would break up with you”. Also “I wish my mother just dies”. And yes - had I known her mother was like this, I would not have started a family with her.
Last week was my birthday, and the reason for this post. My girlfriend had arranged a wonderful surprise party with 15 of my/her best friends. GF had given birth 7 weeks before, barely been outside and was starved of social company, so she really had looked forward to this. We were supposed to have drinks at our place and then a nice restaurant dinner.
MIL babysat for a few hours during the day and was then supposed to leave. Instead she stayed.
Normally I go straight from work to home, but today my GF sent me to the gym and told me to get back in time for dinner. When I entered the door, at GF’s desired time, I barely had time for the “Surprise!” before MIL took me aside and started yelling at me because

• I had a chewing gum in my mouth
• Because I “didn't help with arranging the party”. The surprise party, that is, that I didn't know of.
• That I hadn't married her daughter yet.
• That I took no responsibility for the baby by “bringing so many people here, what if he gets sick”. Again, it's not like I planned this.
• And so on.

She was stressed out because she think the baby is too young to go where there’s many peoplet. When she is stressed, she becomes extremely rude and hysterical.
So she kept yelling. In front of all our close friends. She ruined the evening for especially my GF, who must have spent a ton of effort planning this thing.
I fucking lost it. I did not call her nasty words, but I made it clear that no one speaks to me or my girlfriend this way. Mother or not. She cut me off: “now I'm talking, you need to show respect”. I replied that she deserves no respect because she doesn't give it to anyone else.
My GF was supposed to have mingled with us at home, come with us go the restaurant and then take the baby home when he got too tired. Instead she was drained from all the fighting with her mom And stayed at home. I had to go to the restaurant, but missed her and my son the entire time.
I'm very torn. I want my son to have a maternal grandmother. I want my GF to keep having a relationship with her mom. I would never deny them this. My GF has asked me to forgive her.
But I feel… I will not tolerate her behavior any longer. I want nothing to do with her. Not spend a single holiday with her, not be around when she sees my son or GF.
But I think this will sadden my GF greatly.
What should I do? Had this happened before my GF was pregnant I'm 95% sure I would never have started a family with her, despite her being a wonderful woman and an absolutely great mother…
TLDR: Mother in law's behaviour in unacceptable. I've had it and want nothing to do with her. GF asks me to forgive her.
What do I do?

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Lumiric Lang

Basic Words:
​

• Kigo - Person
• Kalic - Thing
• Miv - Place
• Lafco - Time
• Sino - Yes
• No - Navak
• Lijof - This
• Lof - That
• Palo - Good
• Satro - Bad
• Tabodo - Big
• Vagodo - Small

Action Words:
​

• Do - Gonom
• Dija - Come
• Gifso - Eat
• Polu - Drink
• Kinito - See
• Mihoha - Hear
• Simoga - Speak
• Tilocon - Think
• Vibri – Feel

Nature and Environment:
​

• Polune - Water
• Trogone - Land
• Roblik - Sky
• Volusa - Sun
• Jalunso - Moon
• Domkric - Star
• Fostixo - Tree
• Gonurou - Flower
• Hopali - Grass
• Jobeastan - Animal
• Kolpo - Bird
• Lorito - Fish
• Mobsicla - Insect
• Nosutri - Mountain
• Sodrot - River
• Tolimi - Lake
• Vohutra - Wind
• Wabrohi - Rain
• Yolinfo - Snow
• Zomatrio - Fire

Body and Health:
​

• Abi - Head
• Esi - Eye
• Iwi - Nose
• Owi - Mouth
• Uvi - Ear
• Aci - Arm
• Ezi - Hand
• Juc - Leg
• Oki - Foot
• Uki - Skin
• Ali - Hair
• Eli - Tooth
• Ili - Bone
• Oli - Blood
• Uli - Muscle
• Api - Heart
• Epi - Lung
• Ipi - Stomach
• Opi - Liver
• Upi - Skin
• Ari - Happy
• Eri - Sad
• Iri - Angry
• Ori - Scared
• Uri - Tired
• Ali - Sick
• Eli - Healthy
• Ili - Strong
• Oli - Weak
• Uli - Hot
• Api - Cold

Family and Relationships:
​

• Ajan - Parent
• Julixo - Child
• Ikira - Brother
• Okiba – Sister
• Klack – Mum
• Hanck – Dad
• Juxz – Grandma
• Cirso – Grandpa
• Dranx – Aunt
• Grajo - Uncle

Colors:
· Red - Exod
· Orange - Ojusa
· Yellow - Yefo
· Green - Gris
· Blue - Blunv
· Purple - Prufo
· Pink - Piped
· Black - Blano
· White - Whilow
· Gray - Wace
· Verbs (More Actions):
· Wirove - Write
· Duno - Read
· Trist - Sing
· Kvas - Dance
· Penolio - Play
· Seso - Work
· Sepil - Sleep
· Oksatio - Dream
· Noalo - Build
· Dekare - Travel
· Sha - Fly
· Najo - Swim
· Lawo - Jump
· Kaho - Run
· nocot - Walk
· Dano - Talk
· Falto - Laugh
· Garo - Cry
· Haliho - Love
· Jamo - Hate
· Kanx - Think
· Malo - Remember
· Nato - Forget
· Nouns (More Things):
· House - Suno
· Boat - Bolin
· Car - Ganz
· Train - Trenig
· Plane - Platis
· Food - Fudusto
· Water - Patila
· Fire - Jokogar
· Book - Bukiso
· Clothes - Closi
· Tool - Toli
· Weapon - Wepini
· Money - Vore
· City - Masolino
· Country - janirti
· River - Gixer
· Ocean - Sobalo
· Island - Olapso
· Mountain - Catrio
· Forest - Havin
· Desert - Xinate
· Sky - Mytlodome
· Cloud - Mafdose
· Rain - texadril
· Snow - Hopno
· Sun - Gunja
· Moon - Stunar
· Star - Nojovaco
· Adjectives (More Descriptions):
· Beautiful - Delifitso
· Ugly - Kuno
· Big - Ginok
· Small - Banlo
· Hot - Sotino
· Cold - Distrote
· Fast - Sastoned
· Slow - Julonk
· Strong - Gronalto
· Weak - Kalixo
· Happy - Cuvo
· Sad - Vised
· Angry - Unseno
· Scared - Nauticap
· Tired - Futuroke
· Good – Amaticlo
· Bad - Randizox
· Pronouns (More Relationships):
· I - Mila
· You - Locka
· He - Ticb
· She – Firjod
· We - Ni
· They - Xokbax
· This - Thilpo
· That - Galp
· Mine - Lambed
· Yours – Halicate
· His - Awois
· Hers - Isiwas
· Ours - Nisi
· Theirs - Cones
· Prepositions (More Locations):
· In - Onito
· On - Oniro
· Under - Nomederf
· Over - Ovivsofo
· Above - Ulistco
· Below - Zerclo
· Next to – Nexi pam
· Between - Waynv
· Around - Ohloxo
· Through - Brontso
· From - Volinode
· To - Ujamo
· For - Fare
· With - Johit
· Conjunctions (More Connections):
· And - Sandixo
· But - Burzo
· Or - Nol
· Because - Ribond
· If - Obal
· When - Gupo
· So - Sali
Although – Untizot

Hello Reddit, I am hopping on here to ask for some advice and maybe some motivation. I have been on Lexapro for almost 3 years now. During those three years I peeked my dose at about 40mg and have lowered it to 10mg during these past few months in preparation to stop taking the medicine all together. I want to stop taking the medicine because quite frankly I am tired of depending on it and I really want to feel drunk again. I have not felt drunk in the past 3 years, every time I drink since starting Lexapro all I feel is tired and irritated not matter how much or little I consume. I know alcohol isn’t important, but I personally wish I could’ve felt a little buzzed for my 21st birthday or new year’s. I have been slowly lowering my dose and extending the dose period for about 4 months now. In the begging of the process, I would get bad head zaps and feel depressed if I missed a single day. Now I have been able to successfully not take it in intervals of 4-5 days without bad side effects until the day of the next dose (the 4th or 5th day.) So last week I decided that maybe I could just fully stop now that the dose periods have extended so much. On the 6th , 7th, 8th day of not taking it I got the absolute worst depression I have received in a very long time. I have not been this depressed since before I started taking Lexapro 3 years ago. I went into a very dark place, but I really wanted to push through it to finally be off Lexapro. However, seeing how concerned my partner was for me I decided to take Lexapro again on the 8th day and I felt better again. My question is am I just going to have to take Lexapro for the rest of my life? Has anyone successfully gotten off Lexapro? Will I always be depressed if I am not taking these meds? The thought of taking medicine for the rest of my life makes me really regret ever starting it. If so, please share words of wisdom.
tl;dr, I've been on Lexapro for almost three years now, gradually reducing my dosage from 40mg to 10mg as I prepare to stop taking it entirely. I've been feeling frustrated because whenever I drink alcohol, I don't get the buzz anymore; instead, I just feel tired and irritated. I've been slowly extending the intervals between doses over the past few months, but when I tried to stop completely, I experienced severe depression after about a week. It was the worst I've felt in a long time, even worse than before I started taking Lexapro Despite wanting to tough it out and be off Lexapro, seeing how concerned my partner was for me made me start taking it again, and I felt better. I'm now wondering if I'll have to take Lexapro for the rest of my life, if anyone has successfully stopped taking it, and if I'll always be depressed without it. The idea of relying on medication forever makes me regret ever starting it. If anyone has advice or words of wisdom, I'd really appreciate it.

Through Monday, May 27 we present the all-new They Came From Beneath the Sea! Bundle featuring They Came from Beneath the Sea!, the RPG of drive-in B-movie horrors from decades past – of melodrama, science fiction, and farce – from Onyx Path Publishing. PLAY heroic humans driving back watery threats that seek to invade, destroy, or subjugate humanity! CAPTURE everything great about monster movies of the 1950s and 1960s – the thrills and (optionally) the campy humor – using the cinematic Storypath dice-pool system! GRAB your chocolate malt, turn on the jukebox, and ready your harpoons! Don't be caught unawares when it's revealed that They Came From Beneath The Sea!
They Came from Beneath the Sea! is a dramatic and farcical Storypath RPG of the wonder, horror, thrills, and humor of 1950s and 1960s science fiction movies. In a world under attack, you play strong-jawed war veterans, cunning and resourceful explorers, utterly insane scientists, and blue-collar heroes. Adventures range from the defense of a small coastal town to the liberation of a cruise ship infested with gill-folk, to the capture of an alien submarine and a journey down to the sea bed to take the fight to the invaders.
They Came from Beneath the Sea! mixes serious threats and unbridled farce. The book plays it straight with no winking at the camera. Still, your game will include ludicrous statements and events handled with gravitas. There are rules for incorporating Quips and Cinematics in a scenario. Drawn from decks of cards or rolled from tables in the book, Quips are your award-winning one-liners that allow your blow to pack a harder punch, make your rebuke more scathing, or just give you pithy last words before dying. Are they sometimes incongruous to the scene or inappropriate in any context? That's up to you. The players and Director together discover the correct level of humor for their game.
Cinematics encourage metagaming. As you accumulate points to spend on inserting deleted scenes in your game, you can Cut to Black when the action gets too hot, bring in an Omniscient Narrator, apply Bad Dubbing to an alien's dialogue to make them talk to you in English, or Summon the Stuntman to replace your scrawny scientist character when he has to run the length of an exploding submarine, crab-person baby in arms. Caught short without the clue or item you need? Insert a Deleted Scene that shows you set up that element earlier in the story.
Onyx Path's Storypath system (the Trinity games, Scion) is a lineal descendant of White Wolf's Storyteller rules: a narrative-focused d10-based dice-pool system, Attribute + Skill against a set Difficulty. Each result of 8+ counts as a success; 10s count double. Any success lets your character use a relevant Enhancement; surplus successes let you gain benefits by executing a Stunt (Infused With Science, Insanely Swift, Old-School Carnage, Impeccable Grooming, Inspirational Storyteller, Sudden Bravery); failure brings Consolation, which lets you affect the story anyway. Botches (rolls of 1 with no successes) earn you Rewrites, which are added to the shared Writer's Pool. Use Rewrites to gain bonus dice, rerolls, or Cinematics.
Combat is intended to play fast and loose. Every character is Difficulty 1 to hit, but you can protect yourself with Defense Stunts that increase an opponent's target number to hit you. Certain attacks have damage tags (Concealable, Grappling, Non-lethal, Returning, Shockwave, etc.) that improve their effectiveness. Most weapons have a damage rating of 1, but again, an Increase Damage Stunt can inflict greater injury. You have 10 Injuries, divided into four levels: Just a Flesh Wound, That'll Leave a Scar, Last-Ditch Effort, and Don't Forget Me. A dying player character gets one final action (with a hefty bonus) and an epic Death Scene.
This all-new They Came From Beneath the Sea! Bundle gives you everything you need to explore uncharted South Pacific atolls or the Bermuda Triangle, uncover weird eggs in your storm cellar, ignore the warnings from Old Man Jones, battle the Oysteroid Menace and the Phantom of Sea Land World, and rock out at Monster Beach. Pay just US$12.95 to get all six titles in our B-Movie Collection (retail value $58) as DRM-free .PDF ebooks, including the complete They Came From Beneath the Sea! Core Rulebook, plus the Party Beach Creature Feature Jumpstart, the Beneath the Sea Quips and Cinematics Cards, and the Director's Screen; the bestiary Monsters of the Deep! and the character book Heroic Land-Dwellers!; the scenario collection Tales of Aquatic Terror; and five "Tasty Bits" mini-scenarios that highlight the many places They Come From: The Bikini Beach Party!, The Bermuda Triangle!, North Herald Beach!, Outer Space!, and Plan 9!
Onyx Path has also provided purchasers a coupon code good, while supplies last, for 50% off one copy of the hardcover They Came From Beneath the Sea Core Rulebook at Indie Press Revolution.
Even now this TCFBS! offer lurches closer. Face it quickly, because Monday, May 27 is – THE END! ... Or is it?
https://bundleofholding.com/presents/TCFBS

I had a really dark 3 years.
Covid lockdown didn't do anything good to me. My ex-bf broke up with me, I was almost homeless, than my grandma died and I was not allowed to visit her in the hospital during her last days because of covid. I lost my job and had to restart my career because of covid. I couldn't go to swimming pools, out at night, meeting friends, even parks were closed, because of covid. I still have issues about it, I'm fucking angry.
I've lost everything. While life got back to normal, I never did. I first lost connection with my friend who literally saved me from being homeless, than I slipped up with my other best friend. I freak out when I realise how much I used to text and meet up with people. I slowly stopped texting to coworkers, pals, and I maybe text to my mom and my siblings once a week. I stopped reading e-mails. My life right now is going to work, doing laundry, meal prep and cleaning in one of my day offs, and going for a long hike on an another. I barely feel like a person. I fell like a ghost, holding on for dear life. For context, I'm an adult in my 20's, nearly 30, who used to party a lot, travel a lot, and socialise a lot.
And although I still want to 'slim down' for summer, and grossed out by my own body, I've started to participate in a social event at first, at my job, my collegues like to play a card game during the lunch break, and once, out of nowhere I asked if I could play too. Than I registrated on a matchmaking app, and talked to guys. Than I texted to actual people I know. People I used to be friends or pals with before. They were all seemed to be happy that I reached out to them and gave me a little update and asked if I was available to meet in person the next weeks or so, and I try my best to meet with them as soon as I can with my work schedule. I'm not ready to contact my two best friends I've lost. But I will do call my Mom today, even though I'd rather just build a new house on Sims or go to sleep whatever, but I feel like I have to make connection again. I'm suprised my mom havent notified the authorities when I didn't anvswer her texts for days, she writes me daily and I had the audicity to ignore it when I know she loves me a lot. I'm really guilty about it.
I don't know, if it's mental healing, or just an another phase. I'm all about phases. Phase of eating raw. Eating low-carb. Eating gluten-free. Looking for jobs abroad. No dairy. Quit drinking. I had so many and I don't know if it's for real or is it going to end in like two weeks.

I was reading this post from the cbse subreddit about how a guy got horribly treated and even slapped on his birthday because he mistakenly ordered from swiggy from his father's credit card. I also have toxic parents, many moments are good but many are bad too. There were several other comments under the post telling their horrible experiences too.
I also made a post about my mother going nuts because a relative cracked upsc.
Our parents always tell us to crack this exam for our own good but there is always a hidden narcissism over there. They are way to concerned with what their relatives are doing than our future at times. I was supposed to crack upsc because my relative cracked it, not because of my good.
She didn't care if I had any skills of an ias or even would survive becoming an ias or not, she just wanted to brag.
They pretend to be so innocent when they are thrown inside of old age homes when they turn old yet they forget what they did in their youth.
I know many parents are innocent in old age homes, but I can guarantee some totally deserve it.
Now imagine this, before marriage you have almost 2 decades with your kid. Why didn't you teach him not to throw you inside a dungeon when he grows up? Teaching life skills instead of whining 24x7 about studying creates a situation like this.

Chapter 1 People are so…. Social. I grew up in a small town in Arizona and I’ve always loved the peace and quiet. But as I aged, graduating high school and spending a restless summer trying to divine what a broke carpenters son could do with his life (and probably drinking and smoking too much.) the small town gossip really started to wear on me. I’ve never been a social butterfly, preferring to mind my own business and let others mind theirs. But in a small town that’s a luxury you can’t afford. Everyone there has watched you mature from a scrawny kid with a stutter to a quiet but confident young man and, as such, feel that they have some obligation to be sure that your life is going to go in the right direction. There’s only so many questions a 19 year old can take about a lack of college and girlfriends. Only so many conversations following the familiar lines of “well you know, college is there to prove to employers you can show up at the same time and place for 4 years.” Or “don’t rush it, I found my wife when I finally gave up on looking!” Or, most aggravating “God works in mysterious ways!” (No shit Barbara, he’s an unknowable, omnipotent entity and you sell Sephora.(Don’t you have a bland youth group sermon to give?) I guess this is my way of explaining why I left my hometown so hastily the beautiful autumn after graduation. My folks were pleased to see I was going to “find myself.” As my mother so romantically put it. They hoped I’d find some kind of inspiration out on life’s grand highway. My dad chuckled, his eyes full of memories from the days he was young and free, a youthful joy that even 25 years in construction couldn’t dampen. “Go sow your wild oats son! Just remember you’ll reap them in the end.” He said, a mischievousness that was rare for him lightening the words. That is how I came to be here, in Golden Meadow, Louisiana. “Arizona plates? Well ain’t you a long way from home?” The deep southern drawl, by now familiar to me after a week of driving through Louisiana, cut through a perfectly quiet morning. Great. A socialite. Why did I have to choose the south for this roadtrip? I forced a polite smile and turned to face dreaded small talk as I began pumping my gas. “That’s right!” As I spoke I sized up my new best friend. A short, profusely sweating man stood before me. He must have been about 5’ 5”, well below my respectable height of 6’. His hair, greasy but trimmed nicely, his sheriffs hat…. Fuck. This is a cop. “Sheriff E. Gore, pleased to meet you!” He drawled again, his accent, I noted, more Texas than Cajun. He extended a sweaty hand, which I took as a good sign. (The law usually isn’t so friendly to suspicious people.) I shook his hand, surprised by the strength that this somewhat rotund sheriff had, his grip strong but measured. I returned his introduction. “David Lawrence.” “What brings you down to our little town son?” I took a deliberate look around before I answered, my gaze sweeping over the small gas station, the almost empty street, the abandoned buildings, a liquor store and a dilapidated dollar general. “Just passing through.” It probably wouldn’t take long, I thought to myself. I could see most of town from where I was. My gaze returned to Sheriff Gore, and I realized he was staring at me hard, gauging me for something. “I’m on a bit of a roadtrip.” I added, trying to remove his focus from my arms. “Well built aren’t ya?” The Sheriff said. Jesus, what a way to start a conversation with a stranger. I forced through the awkwardness. “Yessir.” Forced grin, wishing my gas would pump faster. “I try to stay active.” The Sheriff’s attentive gaze and fixed smile never strayed from me. “How nice! You know, you should stick around town awhile, we’ve got lots to offer!” I decided to myself that I didn’t like the Sheriff, my earlier thought that he likely wasn’t suspicious since he was so friendly now giving way to the feeling that he was too friendly. I gritted my teeth. “I really would, but I’m trying to make it to New Orleans.” I said, maintaining my politely measured tone. I had no interest in staying in this town. “That’s such a shame.” The Sheriff said, his voice betraying disappointment. “It’s a lovely town, it really is.” I was saved from my own awkward response to his too-friendly, begging statement by his radio crackling loudly from his cruiser, parked outside the gas station convenience store. The words, unintelligible to me, evidently made sense to Gore, as he swung around and strolled back to his cruiser. He was oddly quick for a guy of his stature. “Well, good luck on the road Lawrence.” He shouted over his shoulder as he left. “Be careful on the roads and come visit us again real soon!” I shook off the bile-like aftertaste of Gore’s stare and went back to doing what I do best. Minding my own damn business. I wouldn’t be in town long. What I’d told the Sheriff was true. I was headed to New Orleans. My red ‘69 mustang and I were scheduled to enjoy a beautiful city, far from the normal tourist season, here in early October. The food, the music, the bars, all promised to be excellent and uncrowded, allowing a drifting 19 year old a place to breathe and make decisions. Maybe I’d find some work and stay awhile. Or I’d stay a week and then continue “Dave’s Grand Tour” as I’d taken to calling my trip. The idea of Dave’s Grand Tour was simple; find a place that speaks to me. I had no interest in college, as I’d found during high school that an enterprising young man could make a good bit of money just by taking opportunities when they come. I’d worked at a county fair, for the railroad and for local farmers and ranchers and I had found that there were lots of ways to make money. And I didn’t want to tie myself to a career. After all, my dad had built a pretty great life doing carpentry, something that didn’t take much time to learn. (Of course I’d already learned, from helping him.) I contemplated these things as I pulled out of the filling station and back onto the road. Not much farther to New Orleans. As I drove through town, past a small town mechanic, a diner and a tidy row of houses, I almost felt bad for leaving. This town was clearly dying. Empty buildings, boarded windows and beat up cars told the story of a town in decline. The coastal fishing village was picturesque though, and its people were friendly and polite. With the exception of Sheriff E. Gore. What the hell was that guys prob.. I was tore from my thoughts as the unmistakable sound of a popped tire hissed above the growl of my car. “Shit.” I muttered, pulling over to assess the damage. The damage, as it turned out, was extensive and likely expensive. The ‘stang was equipped with beautiful whitewall tires, painstakingly sourced by my grandfather during the restoration I had helped him with during his final years. Cancer is a bitch, especially when you’re 72. He had handled it well though, and had the car (as well as some of his savings) to me when he passed. Grandma had gone ahead of him some years before. I reiterate, cancer is a bitch. And now my beautiful car was down two tires, both passenger side whitewalls punctured by a myriad of screws and nails. I stared in disbelief. Wandering back down the road I found their source, an overturned coffee tin which was clearly some tradesman’s “spare shit” bin. Shaking my head and muttering expletives I strolled back to my car. Of course I had a spare in the trunk, and all the tools to change a tire, but who carts a second spare tire around? Still muttering words I could never let my mother hear, I searched on my phone for the number to the mechanic I had passed, finding an oddly polished website. JP’s machine and tire shop had someone tech savvy on the payroll. And they were punctual. Less than 15 minutes later I was standing on the concrete shop floor, watching JP himself remove my tires. “Lord, you’ve had some bad luck!” He boomed. I’d decided I liked JP. He was a big man, with a tanned face and forearms, betraying many days spent on the sun-soaked waters of the bay. “How in gods name did you manage to get this many holes in such nice tires?” I laughed. “I’m Gods strongest soldier I guess.” JP roared out a laugh. Laughter came easy to him it seemed. “There’s good news and bad news.” He said, awhile later. I’d quietly sat in a comfy chair in the shops waiting area, reading, while he focused on his work. “What’s the bad news?” I asked. “You’ve got to wait two days for new tires.” JP replied. I’d figured as much. What kind of small town auto shop would have whitewalls for a 1969 mustang just lying around. “Good news is, I got you a helluva deal on them. Buddy of mine runs a classics restoration shop in Orleans. He’ll send a truck to deliver your tires, but he’s short handed, thus the wait.” This was excellent (and intriguing) news. I’d expected the wait to be much longer, and the cost to be higher. As JP broke down my bill, explaining the pricing, I couldn’t help but feel pretty lucky, all things considered. I paid JP (thank you Grandpa) and wandered out into the Golden Meadow sunshine, my backpack slung over my shoulder.
Chapter 2 It was a damn fine evening on the bayou. I was paddling along between small islands overgrown with thick river reeds, in a kayak I’d rented from a local fishing guide named Sam. I’d spent the afternoon fishing from the kayak, with a breakdown rod I kept in my backpack. Now, as the sun was sinking low, turning the water orange and pink in the dying light, I paddled gently back to town. As I made it to the dock where Sam had told me to leave the kayak (very trusting fellow, Sam was) I heard faint music. It grew louder as I came closer to the dock. A myriad of fishing vessels, speedboats and jet skis obscured it as I drew close. But as I tied the kayak in place at Sam’s dock, I made out the lyrics. I recognized the song. Brown Haired Blue Eyed Baby, by JD Clayton. Excellent song. That was when I saw her. Standing on a tall fishing boat at the next dock over. She. Was. Breathtaking. With dark brown hair and a deep tan, she looked to be about my age. She was coiling a rope, faced away from me, singing along to the music. I suddenly realized I was staring, not saying anything, and she had no idea I was there. Realizing that this could be a bad look for me, I cast my eyes downward and dropped my backpack onto the dock, letting it fall heavily. I glanced up as she swung around, pretending I hadn’t seen her until now. “Oh, hey!” I said, a bit too loudly. After a pause she returned the greeting somewhat cautiously. “Hey.” Words failed me. She had turned to face me now and I saw her eyes for the first time. They were a vivid blue, that reflected the light from the water, even as the sun sank. I had a sudden burst of confidence, thinking to myself that worst case scenario, e.g. rejection, I could always just leave in two days and never see her again. “Hey, listen, this might be a little too bold, but you are incredibly pretty.” I said, the words rushing from my mouth. She seemed shocked, and for a second I thought she was disgusted. Then her cheeks flushed and I realized she was blushing. I pushed on. “Sorry, sorry, that was probably a little too much, I’m so..” she cut me off with a laugh. Damn, even her laugh was cute. “It’s okay!” She exclaimed, breathlessly. “you just surprised me, that’s all.” I smiled broadly. She returned the smile. “I’m Dave.” I said, somewhat sheepishly. Extending a hand upwards to her perch on the boat. Still smiling she took it and said “I’m Emmy Lou.” Emmy Lou and I ended up talking for almost an hour as the sun disappeared and the moon shone brightly upon us. She told me about her life, growing up a local in this small town, working on one of Sam’s guide boats. I told her about Arizona, the summer I spent restoring my mustang (I mostly just wanted her to know I had a cool car), and all about Dave’s Grand Tour. She was sweet, a good listener, but she seemed tough, a girl who knew how to handle herself, even at 18. She was still living with her parents, saving up to move out. “Where will you go?” I asked her. “When you move out I mean.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought that far ahead. Maybe to Texas? I’ve always wanted to be a cowgirl.” I grinned. “You’d certainly make a good one.” I replied. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” She exclaimed in a joking manner. Her and I had fallen into a rhythm of teasing and joking very easily. I laughed as I replied in protest, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! You just seem to be naturally good at most things you try.” She blushed again. It was almost a familiar sight to me now. She broke eye contact. She generally had to be the first one to do so, since I seemed to be frozen every time I looked in her eyes. “Listen.” She said, standing up. “This has been a lot of fun, but I’ve gotta get home. My folks will be worried.” I stood as well. “Oh, alright.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Hey, I’ll be around town tomorrow, since my tires won’t be in. Maybe I could see you around?” She looked down at her toes and said quietly “I’d like that.” We wished each other good night and went our separate ways, her to her parents place and me to a quiet motel room near the mechanic, a 20 minute walk away. I was almost to the motel when the light flashed across me. It was a flashlight beam, coming from the sidewalk in front of me. I froze. “Well hey there son!” Came a long southern drawl. “Decided to stay in town after all?” For some reason, the Sheriffs voice made my skin crawl. What made it worse was him shining the light in my face. It made it impossible to see him. I squinted hard. “Hey Sheriff. Yeah I’m in town for a couple days more.” Before I could continue (ask him to stop blinding me) he jumped in. “Now what’s held you up young fella. Car trouble?” He said. I paused. There was something about the way he asked the question that I didn’t like. Like he already knew the answer. “Yeah, how did you..” “Oh damn me!” He interrupted, not acknowledging my question at all. “I forgot!” He finally stopped shining the light in my eyes. (Hallelujah.) As my eyes readjusted to the dimly lit sidewalk, the flashlight now pointing down, the sheriff said “This here’s Mr. Wellers.” A deep new voice, clearly articulated “Hello Mr. Lawrence, the Sheriffs told me a lot about you.” I raised my eyes to meet this newcomers and was startled. In stark contrast to the Sheriff, Mr. Wellers was tall, well built and spoke with no accent. He had brown eyes, perfectly trimmed and combed blonde hair and was wearing… a lab coat? I blinked, my brain trying to process. All I could think to say was “Mister? Not….. doctor?” I thought it might be an offensive question at first, as the Sheriff looked at me reproachably and Mr. Wellers cast his eyes downward as if embarrassed. “I uhhhhh… used to be. My license was revoked.” Wow. There’s a rabbit hole I don’t need to go down within seconds of meeting this man. “Oh I’m so sorry” I said lamely. “That sucks.” “You’re damn right it does.” Growled out Gore. He seemed more offended over my apparent faux pa than his friend. “He was my personal doctor for many years. He’s a damned fine doctor too!” “E.” Mr. Wellers said quietly. “It’s alright.” This interaction had passed into the realm of the surreal. I had no idea why these two were out alone together after dark, and frankly I didn’t want to know. (Once again, minding my own business.) “Right… well it was good to see you, and nice meet you Dr. I mean… Mr. Wellers.” I cringed at my own words. God, just let me out of this conversation. “And a pleasure meeting you as well young man!” Said Mr. Wellers. I felt bad. He seemed like such a normal, reasonable guy when compared to Gore. “By the way.” His deep voice rang out again as I moved down the street. “What’s your blood type?” My brain malfunctioned. “My… uhm… what?” I struggled for words. “Blood type!” He exclaimed. Seeing the confusion in my eyes he elaborated. “We’re having a blood drive tomorrow.” (Oh hallelujah lord, thank god this guy doesn’t want to steal my blood.) “we could really use all we can get, you know. Being in a remote place like Golden Meadows it’s important we have a little extra on hand.” His tone put me at rest once more. “I’m O negative.” I said. “Universal donor. If I’ve got time tomorrow I’ll stop by.” I said it mostly to placate him and get out of the conversation faster. But his tone as he thanked me profusely, as well as the obvious gratitude in his doe brown eyes made me actually want to go help. I resolved myself to actually stop by and donate tomorrow. Might as well right? Not like I’ve got anything else to do. I finally made it to my hotel room and by the time I was cleaned up and in bed I had almost forgotten about the awkward demeanor of the pair. Although the Sheriff still made me hellishly uncomfortable. He had a way of staring at you like you were a snack he was about to eat. I shuddered, decided not to think about that anymore and rolled over, thinking of Emmy Lou and the possibilities of tomorrow.
Chapter 3 I was having some difficulty finding Emmy. I’d been down to the dock, had breakfast at the cafe, wandered the town and even hung out in the bait and tackle shop Sam run in conjunction with his guide business. No sign of her. I was checking out an enormous tarpon mounted above some fly rods when Sam’s voice floated over to me. “She’s out on the boat.” I heard the mirth in his voice and turned to face him. He was behind the counter, tying a huge streamer, round glasses perched precariously on the end of his long nose. He was an older man, maybe 50, with a bald head, strong hands and several old school tattoos, harkening back to his days in the navy. He looked over his glasses at me, his heavy eyebrows raised and a cheeky smile on his face. “She didn’t stop talking about you until they left.” He said. “Oh.” I blushed heavily. Looking back it must have been pretty obvious that I wasn’t there for hooks or spinning lures. “When will she be back?” I said, deciding not to hide my true motives. “Sunset.” He said. “Maybe sooner if they catch a big bait of red drum.” I nodded. “Thank you.” I said, and I meant it. I had been going crazy, cursing myself for not getting her number at least. But now my hope was restored. She’d be back. And then I could see her again. I headed towards the door. “Hey kid.” Sam called. I turned back to him. He had his glasses in his hand now, and he was looking at me with his full attention. “Yes sir?” “Don’t hurt her. She’s an angel and we’re all pretty protective of her.” I nodded. Sam was surely referring to his crew of fishermen and guides, a tough group of seamen, some of whom I’d met yesterday while they were gearing up for the afternoon. I definitely didn’t want to get on their bad side. Now it was Sam’s turn to nod. “Good.” Was all he said as he turned back to his work. I wandered back down the boardwalk into town, wondering how I would kill the long hours until sunset, when I saw the Sheriffs squad car. It was parked outside the small town hospital, and suddenly I remembered our awkward conversation last night. The blood drive! There’s a good way to kill an afternoon in the quietest town on the planet. I strolled across to the hospital, and walked through the sliding doors (the only set in town.) “Mr. Lawrence!” Mr. Wellers greeted me enthusiastically. “Glad to see you my boy!” People in this town sure get familiar fast. “Hey Mr. Wellers, where do I go for the blood drive?” The once-doctor directed me to his exam room. “I’ll just need to give you a checkup, make sure you’re in good shape to donate.” It seemed odd that he had an exam room, since he had no medical license. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard of getting a checkup before blood donation, but I shrugged it off as another oddity of Golden Meadows. Weird Sheriff, too-friendly strangers and the most beautiful girl (I believed.) in the south. This town was a trip. Mr. Wellers was talkative as he took my blood pressure, temperature, stared down my throat and peered into my eyes and ears, writing notes on his clipboard as he spoke. “You’re in damn fine health young man.” I knew I was. Years of physical activity and decent genetics (thanks dad.) kept me strong and healthy. I rarely got sick, played football through high school and never seemed bothered by sweltering Arizona heat, something that had benefited me greatly in the humid southern states. Mr. Wellers asked questions about all of these things. He seemed genuinely interested and I got the feeling he was asking more for his own curiosity than any official reason. “Well son,” he was saying now. “You’re the picture of health.” “Thanks.” I replied. “So where do I go to donate.” “Actually,” he said, a bit too quickly. “We’ve had a lot of donations today, far more than expected.” “Oh, so you don’t want me to donate?” I was confused. He’d made it seem like they seriously needed more donations. I brushed it off. Over-selling a problem did make sense. Sometimes it was the only way to get things done in a small town. “No no, we’d still love for you to donate!” He said, once again speaking quickly. “Just give me some time to make my preparations! He smiled, kindly. “Alright… “ I said, at a loss. This seemed so weird, I was beginning to get a bad feeling. Were Mr. Wellers motivations entirely… pure? He seemed to be trying to achieve something with his interactions with me, although I wasn’t sure what. “Well, I guess I’ll stop by later then.” I said, my voice laden with confusion. Mr. Wellers pretended not to notice, uttering vague complacencies as he sent me on my way. I stepped back out of the hospital, vaguely wondering why I hadn’t seen a single living soul inside besides Mr. Wellers. The reception desk had been empty since I came in, the intercom was quiet and I saw no nurses, doctors or patients. I’m starting to really hate the emptiness of this town. I wonder if my tires had come in…
Chapter 4 After a snack from the convenience store and a stop by JP’s to see my car I was wandering town again, aimlessly. The sheriff had driven past twice, smiling at me through his squad car window unblinkingly. I wondered what had happened to him in his life for his social behavior to be so odd. Maybe he had a bad childhood or was raised by an alligator or something. That would explain the toothy smiles and the never-blinking at least. It was about 2 o’clock. JP had assured me my tires would be in tomorrow, which suited me okay. I was almost hesitant to leave, since Emmy Lou was still in town and good lord knows I had an interest in her. Goodness she was fine. I was walking down the street, not really paying attention to anything going on, listening to in thoughts of Emmy. Her hair, her eyes, her walk, she walked… right behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey Dave!” I spun around, my mind returning guiltily from the gutter. “Emmy! Sam said you wouldn’t be off the boat until sundown!” “We limited out. What can I say, I’m just that good.” she spread her arms in a kind of proud shrug, a sarcastic-cocky smile on her face. I smiled too. She had that effect on me. “Hey, I realized I never got your number!” She looked surprised. “You want it?” Now I was surprised. “I… yeah, I really do. I mean, I think you’re great and I don’t want to lose contact when I…” the air around us suddenly felt heavier. I was suddenly nervous. Had I misjudged her interest? Did she see me as some passerby, a very temporary friend? A smile cautiously returned to her face. “You can have my number.” She said. “But if you move back to Arizona forever I’m not going to text you back.” Thank god. I thought I’d totally dropped the bag. “Deal.” I said, smiling once more. Emmy and I spent the afternoon talking as we saw the meager sights in town. We had an ice cream at the cafe, (rocky road for me, strawberry for her.) stopped by the mechanic (I really wanted to show off the car.) and then wandered out to the towns hiking path. Half a mile down the coast, down a dirt road, it was a great spot to be alone. I was promising Emmy a proper date once my car was running and she was laughing at me. “Sonic is not a real date.” She said through giggles. “Sonic is the perfect date. It’s like going to a restaurant but you don’t have to see any people.” I replied, playing up my anti-socialism to seem quirky, and praying it was working. As we reached the trailhead I heard the now familiar sound of the Sheriffs car on the road behind us. He wasn’t smiling this time. He watched us as we silently walked onto the trail. “Jesus, this dude is everywhere.” I muttered, as the trees began to obscure him from view. Emmys brow furrowed. (God she looked cute when she did that.) “What do you mean? He just sits at the cafe usually.” She said. “Wait, what?” Now my brow furrowed. “I’ve seen him all over town today. It’s like he’s following me.” “Maybe he thinks you’re trouble.” She teased. I shook my head. “Maybe. He’s been weirdly polite to me ever since we met.” Emmy shrugged. “Southern charm I guess. He’s a weird guy.” “Yeah he is. It feels like he’s” I made my voice as provocative as I could. “Checking me out.” I mocked a sexy stance. Emmy thought I was hilarious. She laughed and slapped my chest gently, her hand resting against me. Suddenly the air was heavy again. Her cheeks turned red but her hand stayed on my chest. My hands rested comfortably on her hips. This is as close as we’d been. Our eyes locked, her bright blue meeting my gentle brown. We stood there for a long time.
Chapter 5 The best part of road-tripping? Besides actually tripping, as I’d done in White Sands, New Mexico and a secluded beach in Texas. Sleeping in. My hotel room was perfect. I’d spent a lot of nights on Dave’s Grand Tour camping under the stars and it was amazing. But it wasn’t better than sleeping until noon on a thick mattress with the A/C blasting. I couldn’t have asked for a better night’s rest to end my trip in Golden Meadows. As I walked down to JP’s shop I reflected on the small towns impact on me. I was happy. JP was sitting in a rocking chair with his shop doors wide open. My car was next to him, four whitewall tires underneath. “Wondered when you’d be by.” Boomed JP. “Truck came this morning, she’s all ready for you.” His broad grin rippled across his face as he watched me inspect his work approvingly. “Thanks JP, this is amazing.” He nodded graciously as I tossed my backpack in the trunk. “Hey JP?” He noted my tone become more business-like and focused his eyes on me seriously. “Yessir?” He asked, his curiosity apparent. “That friend, the one with the restoration shop. Is he hiring?” JP’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Well son, I believe he is. You looking for work?” I nodded. “I’m thinking about settling down somewhere in the area, staying for a while.” JP grinned broadly again, his eyes betraying a secret. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with little miss Emmy Lou would it?” I blushed heavily. JP had watched Emmy and I as I showed her my car, explaining all the places I’d repaired and restored. He’d been grinning then too. “Well” JP’s voice returned to business and his eyebrows returned to their resting place. “Based on what I’ve seen of your work.” He gestured to the mustang. “I’d be willing to put in a good word with him.” “Thanks JP. I really do appreciate it.” And I did. The point of Dave’s Grand Tour was to find a place I could call home. And it was beginning to seem that I’d found it. I was on the road now, headed to New Orleans. JP had set up an interview for me with his friend and I was hopeful that it would work out. I’d been on the road about an hour, listening to music and texting Emmy, (don’t text and drive kids.) when I got the call. A blocked number. I didn’t answer the first three. But I finally decided it wasn’t scammers or something when the fourth call came, seconds after I’d sent the third to voicemail. “Hello?” I said. “Hello there Lawrence.” Came the Sheriffs voice, low and dripping with anger. “I have someone here who wants to talk to you.” “What the… what’s this all” I was cut off by Emmy’s voice. “Dave? Dave?!” There was panic in her tone and she sounded like she’d been crying. The brakes on the mustang squealed as my muscles responded on their own. I had turned around and was flying back to Golden Meadows as fast as the thought crossed my mind. “What is this?” I yelled. “Emmy what’s happening?!” Gores voice came crackling through the phone. “Meet me at Mr. Wellers office. Sundown.” And the line clicked off before I could answer. What was happening? “Oh god, oh god.” I said shakily as I pushed the mustang to new speeds. What was happening? What did the Sheriff want? Why did he have Emmy Lou?!
Chapter 6 GRAPHIC CONTENT. GRAPHIC CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF SQUEAMISH. I WARNED YOU. That was the longest drive of my life. I’d driven from Arizona to Louisiana, crossed Texas end to end in that car, but this drive was the worst. I was panicking. My tires slid easily as I gunned the engine, turning into the hospital parking lot. I stopped right in front of the doors and left the engine running as I sprinted headlong through them, barely giving them time to open. “GORE!” I yelled as I stepped into the lobby. “GORE WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” The lights were off, the air desperately still as I spun, looking every direction. Gore showed himself. He looked smug, his service pistol pressed against Emmys temple, her arm locked in his vice-like left hand. “There you are boy.” His thick accent dripped venom. “I didn’t find the perfect specimen just to let it slip away.” My mind reeled. Specimen? What was happening? And why did he have Emmy? What WAS this? Before I could collect my thoughts he spoke again, Emmy shaking in his grip, wordless, staring at me helplessly. “There’s a rag on the counter. Put it over your mouth and breathe in.” “What?” Why are you doing this?!” I said, the air in my lungs seemingly not enough to yell. “DO IT.” The Sheriff screamed, his face turning red. “DO IT OR I WILL SHOOT HER, SHOOT YOU AND HAUL YOUR LIFELESS BODY TO THE O.R.” His voice shook with rage, every syllable seeming to enrage him further. “Okay! Okay, I’ll do it.” I walked to the counter, my hands up, palms forward. I took the rag, placed it over my mouth and nose and breathed deeply. “Wake up Lawrence!” Came a singsong voice, breaking through my sleeping mind. “Waaaake upppp.” My eyelids were heavy. So heavy. I forced them up. Blue eyes stared down at me. Was that… Mr. Wellers? I tried to sit up, tried to speak, tried to move. I couldn’t. Mr. Wellers looked overjoyed. “Ahh the serum worked! Total paralysis, with a fully functioning mind!” His eyes. What was wrong with his eyes? Were they always… “I bet you’re wondering what’s happening to you.” Mr. Wellers said, his tone jovial. “You see Dave, I didn’t lie, we do desperately need donations. Just not blood.” He was holding… my eyes struggled to focus on the shining silver tool. A scalpel? “No no, we need far more precious donations.” A searing pain shot across my chest. Was he cutting into me?! He was staring at my chest as his hands worked, out of my view. The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even tense my body against the pain. Instead, my mind screamed, the searing feeling of a cold blade tracing below my ribs blocking all thought. “You know, I started the practice of organ transplants.” I heard Wellers speak as if underwater. “That was long before even your parents were born.” The cutting subsided, leaving a sharp ache that made me pray I’d black out. “I’ve been replacing parts as they get wore out ever since. A kidney here, a hand there. Much like you do with that car of yours.” His eyes met mine. Why were they… “of course, I need constant donations for this lifestyle.” He was speaking so calmly. “And you’ve got some shiny parts in here.” My stomach. What was he doing? “Like this lovely one here!” I felt a tugging sensation in my gut and Wellers voice faded away. Those eyes. My last thought made me wish I was dead. Those eyes. They weren’t his. They were Emmy’s. I don’t know how long it was before I awoke. But when I did I could move. I was in a stupor. All I saw were blurs. My body seemed to move on its own accord. I heard crying. I smelt something. Sweat. My mind was not working, but on some deep level my consciousness took hold. Sweaty pig. The thought slid across my delirious mind as my arms made contact with something solid but pliable. My lower consciousness took hold and I felt it give way beneath my strength. My hands felt wet. How odd. A voice. What a calming voice that is. Too bad. Such a shame. The thoughts slid across my mind, meaning nothing as my arms went about their task, levering some thing against something else. There was quite a bit of resistance. I felt it give way and a scream rippled across my absent mind. Hope I’m not breaking anything important. Another strange thought. Not mine. Whose? Why were my hands so wet? My chest too. What’s going…. I woke up for the second time. This time I could move and think both. Emmy Lou was beside my bed. I was in a hospital room. She was sleeping, a mask covering her eyes from the midday sun streaming through a window. I… remembered. “Emmy!” I yelled, tears coming to my eyes. I tried to stand but was held down by searing pain. Emmy rushed to my side, the mask still on her face. Wait. Not a mask. A bandage. “What happened?” I said, tears rolling down my face as I remembered everything that had happened. “Emmy? What happened?” She didn’t say anything. She was crying too, but no tears would come.
Epilogue That’s the story. What I can remember of it anyways. The cops told me the rest later. Mr. Wellers and Sheriff Gore had kidnapped Emmy and I. We were held in the hospital for days as everyone in town searched the river for our bodies. My mustang had been found submerged off the dock, and everyone thought Emmy and I were together in it. Her parents had cursed my name to a wordless ocean, screaming at the man who took their daughter, all while going to church with the Sheriff there to console them. The cops found us when Emmy Lou stumbled out into the street, screaming and blind. It had taken her hours to find her way out of the hospital. It’s hard to navigate when you can’t see. I had to hear the rest of the story from her. After our kidnapping they had operated on her. Removing her eyes, a third of her blood and one of her kidneys. Then they went to work on me. I’m still not entirely sure what they took from me. Everything seems to still be intact, my body healing from the meaningless surgeries well. Emmy says she pretended to pass out after hearing my screaming stop. The sheriff, receiving instructions from Wellers had then tried to move her to a different room. She managed to slip away from him, while blind and run to where she’d heard my screams. She found me, and a syringe. In a moment of madness she stabbed the syringe into my shoulder and empty its contents into me, hoping to kill me and end my suffering. Turns out the syringe had a potent mix of drugs, including pure adrenaline. The restraints that held me tore like paper. According to Emmy, all she heard from then on was me humming a tuneless song and Wellers and E. Gore screaming. She made her way out of the room and started trying to find the exit to the hospital. When she finally made it out and Sam called the state police they found me in the operating room, standing above the broken bodies of the malicious pair, humming and swaying back and forth. Yep, they tazed the shit out of me. When they noticed my injuries they rushed me to an actual hospital where I was remained for a week as my body worked through the drugs, the surgery recovery and the concussion I got after the cops tazed me and I fell into a medicine cabinet. Didn’t feel a thing. (Thank you drugs.) All of this happened five years ago. I wrote this story under the direction of my therapist. She thinks I need to let go. But I can’t. I found a record of Dr. Wellers license revocation. Only problem, it’s from the 1850s. I tried to learn anything I could about either Dr. Wellers or Sheriff E. Gore, but they were ghostlike. I can’t get over the questions I have. Questions like, why? And how? The police think they were selling organs on the black market, but I know what I saw. Wellers was wearing Emmy’s eyes. That’s why she’s blind. The cops don’t believe me, and in my drug stupor I destroyed any evidence there might have been. There wasn’t much left of either of my tormentors. I’m gonna stop writing now. These memories are painful. They are the reason I have a blind wife, a guilty conscience and a deeply scarred chest that’s painful to see in the mirror. They are the reason my hand bones are crooked, broken against a thick skull. I have many unanswered questions, and now I’m building a life on unsteady ground. But that’s enough now. I’m late for my meeting. I’ve got a client who wants me to restore a 78’ impala and then I have to pick Emmy up from her art studio. I hope my story helps someone out there. But for me, it just hurts.
Credits: The idea for the monster that is Wellers came from an episode of supernatural where they fight an organ stealing ancient doctor. This is also kind of an adaptation of the story of Frankensteins monster, with Dave playing the part of the monster at the end. I also leaned heavily on other creepy storys told on creepcast and I hope I didn’t step on any toes doing so. This is my first time writing something like this and I enjoyed it a lot, even if you guys don’t. Thank you for reading!

IMPORTANT INTRODUCTION BEFORE WE START
This is not about liking Drake or not. You can hate his music, hate his persona, hate everything about him, clown him, but still have the intellectual honesty to say that calling him a P-do is exceeding the limit and blatant disinformation, and the fact people are chain sharing this fake narrative and influencing other thousands of people is lame and wrong.
How do fake news work and how do they spread? - Making up fake screenshots, distorting the reality of things and not mentioning occurencies that do not favor the narrative these people are trying to push. - All things that we’ll see in this thread.

• Word of mouth, mostly. ”Hey you know Drake did this and that?” “Wow I didn’t, what an asshole”. Then it’s an endless cycle where this allegations spread without providing any proof - or fabricating ones. Just a comment, post or tweet with enough likes or upvotes but no sources at all is enough - if people are approving it, it must be true.

Let’s start FACT-CHECKING:
Drake groomed Millie Bobbie Brown

• DEBUNKED by MBB herself “Why u gotta make a friendship ur headline?” (…) “U guys are weird… For real”
• NOBODY ever said they talked romantically nor is there any evidence about it. (If somebody tells you that there are screenshots, they are lying). Drake is a celebrity and idol for MBB and he was just giving her advice, as she herself stated.
• Drake, as a role model, has an history of being a mentor for young people that see him as an example, for example NBA player Amari Bailey or Justin Bieber

Drake waited for Bella Harris to turn 18 and dated her

• FAKE NEWS. They never dated as it’s been DENIED by Bella herself on IG stories and by TMZ and more sources ”I have to set the record clear and say no dine ever happened”
• Additionally, father of Bella likes a post SUPPORTING Drake

Drake kissed a 17 years old on stage
This is real - let’s clarify some things that people who tell this story don’t want you to know: - The girl (Tia Owens) specified there was no abuse during the act and nothing happened after. ”It was nothing then, and nothing now” - The age of consent in Canada is 16 and in the state where the concert took place, Colorado, 17 - Not as a justification, but as a clairification that needs to be made. - Noting that he episode is from almost 18 years ago where Drake himself was 23 years old. People are acting like this happened on his last tour, now that would be real WEIRD behavior.

• It was indeed a mistake on Drake’s part - certainly not enough for him to get called a p—hile for any person that is honest thinking.

Drake commented under Billie Eilish post and groomed her

• FAKE NEWS. A screenshot that went VIRAL of a Drake IG comment saying “Finally 🥳” when she celebrated her 18th birthday is blatantly fake, created by people that spread this voluntary misinformation.
• As if fabricating a fake screenshot isn’t enough of a coward and shameful move, Billie herself DEBUNKS Drake’s relationship as people wanted it be portrayed as weird, purposedly pushing this narrative, AGAIN ”The internet is such a stupid-ass mess right now. Everybody's so sensitive, (…) A grown man can't be a fan of an artist? There are so many people that the internet should be more worried about."

Also some important mentions: - SZA clearing Drake’s name - Drake calling out Tyga for dating Kylie Jenner when she was only 16
FACTUAL CONCLUSIONS: - Drake NEVER dated nor groomed nobody that was a minor - Literally ALL the girls that were harassed by Drake haters insisting they were molested, DENIED the fact something weird happened - “Drake paid them 🤓” - Right, as if MBB, SZA, Bella Harris or Billie Eilish need any money and to lie to their audience and the entire world. - The stage episode was indeed a mistake on Drake’s part, but for people to defamate him like this, comparing him to the likes of Kelly or others who have real accusations and CONVICTIONS, is just disrespectful. Also noting that the girl denied any abuse occured.

• ZERO girls EVER came out and spoke up about him being weird, nor their families or nobody for them
• There are ZERO official allegations, ZERO formal or even informal accusations and ZERO rumours from trustable sources
• There are ZERO interviews or declarations by him, ZERO screenshots, ZERO lyrics in songs, ZERO tweets that note a weird behavior from Drake’s part (unlike someone else…)

u/sufficient_letter_883 x2 I really enjoy these owl postcards and you bringing me joy today. I appreciate your kind words.
u/Adoreible95 Thank you for your card of quotes. I like the stickers and how creative the card is.

I read through the guide and it seems to say that I would be eligible to apply under Section 15 of the Nationality Act, but I wanted to post to this community to get your opinions.
My great-grandfather was a Czech Jew who emigrated to Germany sometime in the 1920s - several other members of my family emigrated around the same time to work in the family printing business in Ludwigshafen. When my grandmother was born, in 1934, she inherited her father's Czech citizenship. The family fled Germany after Kristallnacht in 1938, eventually reaching the United States, where my grandmother applied for and received naturalization as an American citizen in 1947. I do not know if my great-grandparents ever applied for, or indeed wanted, German citizenship; if they did apply, I have no documents to prove it.
I have two questions for the experts here.
1) although none of my family members had German citizenship, my reading of the guide and of Section 15 indicates that they would be eligible because they were Jews who "lost their ordinary residence in Germany, if established before 30 January 1933 or, if they were children at the time, after that date" (emphasis mine). Oma was not born in 1933, and as Jews they were part of a group who would have been ineligible upon application under Nazi laws at the time. Can I still apply based on her story?
Note: the answer might be to apply in the name of my great-grandfather instead, but while I have several important documents for my Oma, including her German birth certificate and her American naturalization paperwork, I don't have any of those documents for Ur-Opa.
2) The wiki says that one needs proof that one's ancestor was a German citizen, but as noted, Oma was not. I have focused instead on assembling documents that prove, as best I can, that she and other members of the family were residents in the Mannheim/Ludwigshafen area of Germany. From searching through the family archives, my mother and I have uncovered the following:

• 1932: A postcard written by a family member and sent from Czechoslovakia to Mannheim. (I have other documentation of the family's presence in that specific town, Tachau, in then-Czechoslovakia.)
• 1934: A copy of a local (Mannheim-Ludwigshafen area) Jewish newspaper that was most likely printed by my family's print shop.
• 1935: An invitation to my great-great-grandfather's 70th birthday party, to be held in Ludwigshafen.
• 1938: A personal, contemporaneous account, written by my great-grandfather, describing his experience of Kristallnacht in Ludwigshafen/Mannheim and the family's flight to Switzerland.
• 1960: An article in a regional German newspaper which mentions the name of the business among a list of pre-Nazi-era Jewish businesses in Ludwigshafen.
• 1974: My great-grandfather's obituary, which mentions Ludwigshafen.
• 1982, 1990: Accounts from two different family histories, of different people, that both describe the family moving from Tachau to Ludwigshafen.
• 2008: A letter from my Oma describing her own experiences on Kristallnacht.
• Undated: A business card from my great-grandfather, listing business offices in Ludwigshafen, Mannheim and Saarbrücken.

Other evidence:

• Ludwigshafen apparently has Stolpersteine, memorial stones, for the houses where my great-great-grandparents and my great-uncle once lived.
• An online database of “Revoked German Citizenship and Property Seizures 1933-45” has entries for my great-grandfather, as well as my great-uncle, great-great-grandmother, and another great-uncle. The text by their names translates as “Jewish, Bohemia-Moravia, Sudetengau, expatriation with confiscation, expropriation reported separately”.

Would this evidence be enough to convince the relevant authorities that my family did indeed reside in the Ludwigshafen-Mannheim area until the 1930s? And, as above, do you think I would be able to apply based on my Oma's story?
Thank you in advance for your time and consideration.

I should be out on third walk rn, but after a day of doing utterly nothing productive I am unreasonably tired.
Was tidying a cupboard I haven’t for a while today, I’m trying to clear it out and get more organised. Otherwise I just shove all my “important” documents and letters in there and hope I can find them if I need them. Found a box full of gifts/cards I was given during my last EDU admission. There was also some art and crafty stuff from the few sessions of art therapy I actually attended. I didn’t realise it was in there, I didn’t really comb through it but I will have to tomorrow.
I am anticipating finding the folder full of the past 6 years worth of paperwork related to my ED and my treatment. All my files from every admission, all the letters between services about me, all the letters addressed directly to me. I started throwing every letter and file I received out a year and a half ago so I know none of it is recent. But I have a lot of medical/treatment related trauma and I know a lot of the experiences I wish I didn’t have to relive almost constantly are detailed among them. I don’t know whether to throw them out without looking at any of them, or if I should comb through them and try and cope with the way that will make me feel. Who knows maybe I am just looking for an excuse to trigger myself?
There’s also another folder with all the therapy paperwork and activities I did during all of my admissions. At least I know that can go in the bin straight away.
Then I found a box of all the birthday and Christmas cards I have kept over the years because they had meaning to me. Basically all of the relationships soured, some of them were borderline abusive towards me and really hurt me both physically and emotionally. I shouldn’t have any attachment to these cards but I kind of do. I need to let them go but even finding them has been difficult.
Anyway, then I had an argument with my sister over her university degree and future living arrangements. It stings because I had to leave my degree and move back in with my parents because of my ED and the fact I can’t look after myself when I’m living away from home. I’m not well enough to think about going back to a ‘brick’ uni, so I’ve had to apply to an online degree course because otherwise I will never actually get to finish my degree. She has implied a lot the past couple of months that my degree won’t be as good as hers and that I am taking the easy way out. She told me tonight that I don’t understand how difficult the application process is and how stressful everyone else is making it for her. I mean, I do because I’ve done it several times but anyway. She is so unprepared, and I am incredibly worried, anytime I try to help or express my concerns she just snaps at me and can be really rude especially about my current circumstances. I know it’s selfish but it just hurts
So now instead of going for my walk I have been sitting on the floor of my bedroom, pretending not to exist, and wondering why I haven’t killed myself yet. I feel completely worthless, I am convinced everyone hates me, and I am so worried that my life is going to amount to nothing because I can’t fed myself properly. It’s so embarrassing to be an adult who has no desire and therefore no clue as to how to take care of myself. I know things won’t always feel this bad, but right now I would just like to disappear. I haven’t spoken to anyone outside of my family home for weeks, the isolation and loneliness has been getting to me a lot lately. I have a part-time job and I’ve managed to hold that down for a while but even still getting myself out of bed every morning is becoming more of a challenge, and I feel like the biggest waste of space.
This is such a stupid rate, and I’m a horrible person when I am so depressed but I really just need to talk to someone.