The following section focuses on all major choices in the fifth chapter of Assassin's Creed Odyssey. This time, you're in for some moral choices in Keos, Korinth and Argolida. One of the first major choices is actually the decision in which order to complete the quests and what region do you want to visit first. Assassin's Creed Odyssey A PIRATE'S LIFE FOR ME - Xenia's Side Quest. In this video, I will show How to Complete Xenia Questline. First Side Quest is located... Group: Dominance is Bliss (The Fate of Atlantis) Category: Persephone To receive this quest you must first complete The Keeper and the Flame quest and decide whether to help Hermes kill people or refuse to kill them.. When whispers of Leonidas joining the insurrection reached Persephone's listening ears, she summoned Alexios to complete a seemingly impossible task - with an ultimatum. CHAPTER 5: PART 1. Pirate Hospitality 1 - Island of Misfortune Pirate Xenia wants a cool 15K for info on mom, gotta do quests until you can pay up 1.1 (Support) - A Chest Full of Drachmae Collect the nation's treasure from Koressia Fort 1.2 (Support) - Red in the Wreckage Retrieve some sunken treasure for some local pirates 1.3 (Support) - Lost and Found Help Captain Gotarzes deal with his ... Assassin's Creed Odyssey Xenia Questline: How to solve the treasure hunt and earn the Pirate's Life for Me award By Sam Loveridge 01 May 2020 Gold is a pirate's best friend - and yours too Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Chapter 5 Walkthrough – Pirate Hospitality, Land of the Lawless, a Prescription for Discovery By Haider Zahoor Oct 10, 2018 Oct 10, 2018 Share Share
2020.10.21 13:00 ACMarathon Moms hidden video
AC Marathon 2020 - Day 41 Assassin's Creed Odyssey - Chapter 5: Part 1 - 'A Pirate & Hetaera Life For Me' Hey there, Assassins! We start off getting our pirate on as we meet Xenia, who turns out, knew our mother a long time ago. Then we’re off to Korinthia to find the leader of the hetaera, Anthousa, who also knew our mother. We meet a fellow Spartan who befriends us, and turns out, was a friend of our mother as well.
Today's Targets: The Monger
During the Marathon, we will be playing the family story, and the First Civ story. We will not be covering the elimination of all the Cultists, only the ones as defeated during the other two story lines.
Support quests are required but you can usually do them in any order. They are listed as separate quests, but are in support of a main quest.
Pirate Hospitality 1 - Island of Misfortune Pirate Xenia wants a cool 15K for info on mom, gotta do quests until you can pay up 1.1 (Support) - A Chest Full of Drachmae Collect the nation's treasure from Koressia Fort 1.2 (Support) - Red in the Wreckage Retrieve some sunken treasure for some local pirates 1.3 (Support) - Lost and Found Help Captain Gotarzes deal with his mutinous crew 1.4 (Support) - We’re Not Thieves Help Obelia get back a stolen ancient map 1.5 (Support) - We’re Treasure Hunters Search for the sunken treasure, and decide what to do with it 1.6 (Support) - Recruitment Drive Fly the "Colors of Keos" and destroy 2 Athenian, 2 Spartan, and 2 Bandit ships Land of the Lawless 2 - To Find A Girl Look for clues to find Anthousa, speak to her, and agree to deal with the Monger 3 - To Help A Girl With Phoibe's help, investigate a client of a hetaera and stop him 4 - Follow That Boat Help a hetaera find out what happened to a missing hetaera 5 - Port of Lawlessness Burn the goods in the Monger's warehouse, and kill his men with the help of a fellow Spartan 6 - Monger Down Decide whose plan to follow in dealing with the Monger
Side Quests for additional XP Escort Service, Handle With Care *The Support Quests can be skipped if you pay Xenia the money up front. While they can be optional, they are a great source of xp.
Being active in discussions will make you eligible for an official Marathon giveaway. More info in the 'Giveaway' section below.
Kassandra Desktop 16:9 || Desktop 16:10 || Mobile
Alexios Desktop 16:9 || Desktop 16:10 || Mobile
Featured Video: Stealth Reaper - Demigod of Death #2 - Military Forts in Euboea, Keos & Melos Creator: Treviso - Proper Stealth
September 11th - Assassin's Creed Unity September 21st - Assassin’s Creed Unity: Dead Kings September 22nd - Assassin’s Creed Syndicate October 1st - Assassin’s Creed Syndicate: Jack the Ripper October 3rd - Assassin’s Creed Origins October 13th - Assassin’s Creed Origins: The Hidden Ones October 15th - Assassin’s Creed Origins: Curse of the Pharaohs October 17th - Assassin’s Creed Odyssey October 29th - Assassin’s Creed Odyssey: Legacy of the First Blade November 2nd - Assassin’s Creed Odyssey: The Fate of Atlantis November 9th - Marathon End Discussion November 10th - Assassin’s Creed Valhalla Launches!
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2020.10.20 16:59 Oculusfluffy Moms hidden video
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Mr. Adams' Guide to Practical Fluffs - Part 4 - Episode 2 by Oculus
Featuring art by Pumpiikin, Squeakyfriend and Waggytail
( >>46593 )
Sam and you have reached the town where Sugar Crest farms, and with it, the Sugar Crest café, is located. He has parked his car at a Multistorey car park, and the two of you are currently walking towards the farm. You reach a junction, and see a blonde walking her fluffy. It is an orange pumpiikin with a red mane and a permanently sourpuss face.
"Aww, look Pussy Cat! I've don't think I've seen feral fluffies on this side of town! Hope he doesn't get run over."
On the other side of the road, you see a rather enthusiastic white Pumpiikin, waving enthusiastically to the orange fluff, much to the latter's chagrin.
"Fwuffy name Wiwwiam! Wait wight thewe, Wiwwiam come gib yu bestest huggies, nyu fwend!"
William proceeds to cross the road. VROOM! Within mere seconds, a speeding ferrarri flattens William, turning the hapless fluffy into roadkill.
"Holy SHIT!" Both Sam and you have the same reaction. As you stare at the sad corpse of the helpess fluffy, you then hear a rather chilling sound.
"Wiww yewwo fwuffy teww fwuffy mummah to come hewp Wiwwiam cwoss woad!?"
A literal copy of William is standing not too far from the corpse of the previous William. It boggles your mind. Is it a clone? Sam, however, has a more serious look on his face.
"Another temporal anomaly. Its not looking good."
Pumpiikin Fluffalo (Artist:Pumpiikin)
You reach the farm, and see a herd of fluffalo at play. They are about twice the size of the average fluffy, and have two horns. They have more bovine characteristics, save for the abnormal amount of fluff associated with fluffy ponies.
"So, these are the fluffalo you're about?"
"Yes! There were two versions of the Fluffalo, the first being the Marcusmaximus breed that was released back in the day. Those were rare and discontinued. ( >>1192 )
Then, Hasbio rereleased the Fluffalo, but this time, under the Pumpiikin breed and brand name." ( >>46620 )
"So these are technically related to the Pumpiikin fluffy?"
"You could say that.
I've been quite curious about fluffalos. There are many actual subspecies of fluffies and fluffylike animals released by Hasbio, but, many of them don't last or become rare. So animals like puffy griffins, which once used to be more reoccurring, now hardly appear.
It is why we have not seen a Marcusmaximus fluffalo in a good while. Currently, most fluffalos are Pumpiikins, and even those, most are currently herded and raised in this farm here."
"The fluffalo here must be expensive!"
"At the current moment, no. It is marketed as Grade A beef with 'none of the guilt', but, because Hasbio still generates new fluffaloes, and whoever is behind the Pumpiikin project is still around, the price of fluffalo meat will remain to be cheap."
Sam's voice becomes a bit grim, as a thought crosses his mind
"I've been considering that some of the beef we're consuming in this day and age may very well be fluffalo meat." As he says this, you ponder to yourself. You have no problems with eating beef, but, would you eat meat derived from a fluffalo? Considering that they are literally talking cattle?
Sam has gone to meet the owners of the Sugar Crest farms. While waiting for Sam to get back to you, you are busy watching the fluffalo at the farm. Some are intermingling with the fluffies, but a farmhand is present, making sure the fluffalo do not get too rowdy. In the distance, you can see one fluffalo drinking milk from a pregnant fluffy mare. A farmhand is desperately trying to separate them. ( >>46987 )
As you keep watching, a farmhand notices you, leaning on the fence.
"So I take it you're with Sam."
You take a good look at him. He is wearing a checkered cotton shirt, jeans, and is wearing a straw hat.
"I am," you reply.
"Sam mentions you're one of them fluffyhugger types like him. Nothing wrong with that. We love fluffies too."
You resent that statement. What would a farmer, who raises animals meant to be slaughtered, know about loving animals? As you think that, you suddenly realize that he knows what you're thinking.
"It used to be a lot worse. Back in the day, when things weren't really regulated, fluffies would be processed and mutilated while they were still conscious in some factories. Factory-bred food fluffies would be still conscious of the torture they were getting. I've seen the footage of unwanted male foals churned through a macerator. Watching young male foals die to that process is difficult, seeing young talking fluffy babbehs go through that process is excruciating."
"If its excruciating, why are you fine with all of this then?"
The farmhand signs, as he eyes the care nearby
"You know, back in the day, there used to be more instances of people catching random ferals on the streets to eat them. It sounds weird to you, but it happened. There's something about fluffy meat that seems to attract both the abuser, and the curious connoisseur. Like, I'll never eat dolphin meat, but the Japanese have an entire culture devoted to the consumption of dolphin and whale meat. You may not understand it, but, one thing I've noticed is that, when fluffy meat is more readily available, less people are inclined to abuse and harm them."
"Its still not right," you say.
"Perhaps. But here, we at least give the fluffies and the fluffalo the good life. We give them toys, entertainment, and companionship. And we allow them to roam. They're not very intelligent, so we're able to tell them, when they reach a certain age, that they're going to heaven. Then we kill them quickly and painlessly. We've done it before the pigs and cattle, and with fluffies, its no different."
"But it just feels weird."
He gives you a good look in the eye. He lightly interrogates you with one line, "Do you eat meat?"
You can't lie to him, as you admit, "Yes I do. But fluffies-"
"Can talk, right? They can also play. And reason. Trust me, we get it. You may not realize this, but cattle also have emotions. So do fowl. And horses, the very things fluffies are derived from, have a surprising amount of intelligence. If you're a vegan, I can understand and respect that decision. But if you're a meat eater, I'm strongly of the opinion that consuming fluffy meat is not that different from eating chicken or beef."
You want to argue with the man. But he seems genuine about the lifestyle he's leading, and he seems convinced of the opinion that consuming fluffy meat is not unethical. You don’t really want to get into too heated a debate. And as you keep watching the fluffalo, you at least take the solace that, as the farmhands points out, it could be a lot worse. At least the fluffalo here are happy.
Sam calls for you. He has finished talking with the owners of the Sugar Crest farm, and now has three fluffies in tow.
The first fluffy is a normal blue Pumpiikin unicorn with a dark blue mane. "I'm gonna call this one Photoshop." ( >>47376)
The other two fluffies are two fairly big fluffalo. One is a larger brown fluffalo, with two horns, and seems fairly reserved. You can sense a sort of aggression hidden within him though. The other fluffalo, has the colours of a Holstaur. He seems a bit genial, almost feminine. However, with the presence of a horn, and a lack of udders, you can guess that he is also a male fluffalo. However, unlike the other, he's a steer. Before John could talk, the steer starts to hug Sam.
"Fwuffaow wuv nyu daddeh!"
Sam bends down to give the fluffalo steer a good hug, as he rubs its belly. "They were going to have this one 'processed' today when I intervened. He seemed a bit timid, and I reasoned with them that he wasn't ready for the process today. I've been wanting a Pumpiikin fluffalo for a while, particular of John's type here, so I'm happy I got him."
"Okay, but why two fluffalo?"
As you ask this, the brown fluffalo goes up to the steer and gives him a good hug.
"Buww wuv bwudda. Buww wiww prwotecc bwudda from meanie munstahs."
"They're both brothers from the same mother. And yes, the steer's name is John. I decided to call his brother here, "Bull." Bull has been rather protective of John and was not keen to see his brother go. Its why I decided to get them both. For a fluffalo, Jon seems rather alert, and I've been thinking of having him as a sort of security animal. Like a guard dog."
"That's not the real reason, is it Sam?"
Fluffalo and harem (Artist:Pumpiikin)
"Well yeah, we're also looking into the reproductive capabilities of Fluffaloes. Apparently they can interbreed with normal Pumpiikin fluffies." (>>48710 )
As he says this, rather grotesque images of a large fluffalo dominating a hapless female fluffy starts to creep in your mind and cringe you out. ( >>46804 )
"Not in that way. But we are definitely going to be collecting his semen-"
"Sam, shut up. Just, shut up."
"So are we going to get another fluffy today?" you asked Sam, as the car speeds off back to your hometown.
"Not today. There's some research I need to do.
I got a tipoff from Maurice about a breed that I had heard about, but not really researched, called the Squeakyfriend. Maurice knew a Squeakyfriend not too long ago at a Daycare, and wants me to meet him. Since I sold off my McGonagall, I suppose I could have this Squeakyfriend replace it. But I want to find out more about their kind first. We'll meet up, next week."
~Featuring a Tribute to The Unicorn who flew~
The name Squeakyfriend sounds familiar to you. You feel like you had come across it, from an age or so ago. A few days after your last meeting with Sam, you went back to your parents house for a visit, as well as help your dad with a computer problem with his. While there, you kept thinking about the name "Squeakyfriend", and pondered on why it seemed to familiar to you.
"Mom, do you still have my storybooks?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just asking. Been wanting to read them again."
"Well, yes, but they're in the attic."
After settling your father's wi-fi problem, you decide to go up the attic. Climbing up, you start to sneeze from the various particles in the air. Clearly, no one has been up here in a good while. You see various boxes all around the place, containing things the family had kept, then put aside. You recognize one as a box filled with your exam papers and homework, from a time when you couldn't bring yourself to aprt with your memories of school.
And then, underneath a burlap, you see an old cardboard box. It is missing the flaps that allows it to be closed properly, hence the need for a burlap. Upon removing the burlap, you see a various collection of children's storybooks. And then, that's where you see it.
The Unicorn who flew (Artist:Squeakyfriend)
"The Unicorn who flew. A fluffy bedtime story. By squeakyfriend." (>>30473 )
And then you remember! This was back when Hasbio first released the fluffies, and with it, came the various storybooks. Your mom bought you this one, and you used to read it. You read about the little unicorn, Pointy, who wanted to fly, and ended up on the balloon. Then traveled over a great distance, until he found shelter at a church. There was another book to this. You know there is one. One where Pointy had another adventure but, after many trials and tribulations, found his way back to his mother. But right now, you can't find it. ( >>33699 )
The author's name here is Squeakyfriend. Could this be related to the Squeakyfriend fluffies that Sam was talking about?
"Yes, its the same author."
Sam is currently with Maurice and Rexxie. The two fluffies are on leashes, and Sam is currently taking them out for a walk. Maurice is rather enthusiastic.
"Mauwice geh' ta meet Jowsef again! Mauwice wuv to pway with Jowsef egen!"
"Iz Jowsef a gamer?" asks Rexxie.
"Oh boi ohboi! Jowsef am BIG gamer! Fwend wiww WUV ta pway wif Jowsef!"
You're curious about this Joseph that Maurice seems so enthusiastic about.
"He's the Squeakyfriend at the daycare that Maurice wants me to meet. I'm thinking of acquiring him myself."
"Ah, there's that name again. Squeakyfriend."
"Yes, the creator the Squeakyfriend breed was also the same author of the Pointy storybooks you used to read. She wrote a lot of other fiction, but she was very popular as a children's author."
"What else did she write?"
"Quite the variety of genres. Science fiction, fantasy, romance, period pieces. Oh, and horror."
"Horror?" you ask, with a morbid curiosity. It seemed unusual that someone who could write something so cute would write horror.
"Yes. She was quite well known for some of her horror concepts. One of her stories was even made into a game. I think it was called "The Toy Castle"." ( >>34765 )
"She sounds like quite the all-rounded. Author, game programmer, and genetic engineer."
"Oh that is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to fluffies. But it really seems to be that some of the best minds ended up working on them."
Squeakyfriend fluffy playing Pokemon (Artist:Squeakyfriend)
The four of you step into the daycare, and the first thing you are greeted to, is a Fluffy playing on a video game console. He's a grullo-coloured Squeakyfriend, with a black mane. The console he is using has been customized to his hooves, but, for a fluffy, he's seems to know what he's actually doing
Being rather enthusiastic, the fluffy literally yells out his attacks. "Peekachew use zappy-thingy."
You're rather bemused. You had seen Rexxie play computer games before, particularly that one time when he played Starcraft, but he was not as enthusiastic as the fluffy here. Maurice is wide-eyed. Its quite obvious that the friend he had been looking for ages, and had told Sam rather enthusiastically about, is right here.
Joseph looks back. He stops playing his game as a huge smile creeps on his face, once filled with revisited nostalgia, and reunited friendship
The two fluffies hug. They then, and rather suddenly, play pattycake.
“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, bakuh's man.
Bake me a caek a’ fass a’ yu can
Pat it, and pwick it, and mawk it with "B"
And paht it in da oven for Babbeh and me!
You're starting to wonder if this is some sort of secret handshake that Maurice has a with a few other fluffs. While Maurice is enthusiastic about meeting his old friend, Rexxie has his eyes on the console.
Rexxie is just about to reach for the console and play the game when Jowsef
"Nu, nu! Dis is Jowsef's game! Wet fwuffy finish!"
You're a little surprised. From what you had seen from Rexxie before, you'd think he'd play the game, regardless of what anybody else things. Sam really must have trained his fluffies well.
"Hey there Sam!"
The owner of this daycare is an old man, also named Joe.
"Hey there Joe. Hows things been for you?"
"Ah, same ol', same ol'. More ferals come in, I take care of them, then sell them if people want them."
He looks down as he takes a look at Maurice
"How are you doing little fella? Been ages since I last saw you."
Maurice is rather enthusiastic, as he climbs up the chair, and does the one thing he always loves to do: give a big hug. ( >>25400)
Joe is a bit surprised, but he accepts it. "Oh, oh my. You still got in ya."
While hugging Maurice, Joe turns to Sam, remarking on the nature of their business today.
"I'm surprised you're considering getting Joseph today. I did recommend taking Joseph with you when you bought Maurice."
"Well that is true, but see, I got Maurice because we met him at that place remember?"
The hushed tone indicates that Sam does not want to bring up a memory in the presence of Maurice. With a quick understanding, Joe also picks up on it.
"Ah yes. Well, I'm happy you're finally getting Joseph today."
"Has Joseph been rather sad since Maurice's departure?"
"Oh no! Well, sometimes. But like any fluffy you give him something to do, like a game, or rock music - he really loves his electric guitar ( >>30194 ) - and he's content. But sometimes, he does ask me, where Maurice went. And I tell him that he went to buy some sketti for him."
That's not a very good excuse, you remark silently.
"Oh shoot, that reminds me."
Sam reaches for his pocket, and pulls out a tupperware container containing - you guessed it – spaghetti. He goes up to Joseph and says to him, "Hello Joseph. Maurice wanted me to give this to you."
And of course, out from Joseph comes the fluffy enthusiasm for that Italian dish comprising of pasta, tomato sauce and meatballs.
Joseph enthusiastically opens up the contained, and proceeds to chow down on the spaghetti, while Maurice enthusiastically talks to Joe, telling him about the life he has under Sam, and how he gets to do things like play with his Fisher Price car, play ball, and chase remote-controlled toy cars.
You take this moment to ask Sam about what he's referring to when he said "that place".
"Ah yes. Well you see, Maurice lost his mother at a young age.
\"Maurice lost his mother at a young age\" (Artist:Waggytail)
Maurice is actually a feral, but his mother raised him and his siblings on the streets. From Maurice's memory as a foal, he described her as a very dutiful mother. ( >>13206 ) However, she died one day from illness. The rest of Maurice's siblings were taken to various daycares and shelters, but Maurice was really devoted to his mother. He stayed at her side, even when it was raining, and would not budge." ( >>13503 >>14448)
"That was when Joe and I found him one day. We found Maurice laying beside the body of his dead mother. With a little coaxing, Joe was able to take him to the daycare. That memory of Maurice remained in my mind though so, a month later, I decided to buy him."
Your eyes start to well up, as you note "That's so sad and painful to hear. Was Maurice still unhappy when you went to meet him?"
"Oh no. See, when I found Maurice again, he was unexpectedly chipper. I was surprised. It seemed uncharacteristic of him to have gotten over the death of his mother, but, according to Joe, Maurice got to meet Joseph. And it was his friendship with Joseph that got him out of his rut and back to this chipper mood we all know and love him for." ( >>30600 )
As you smile, happy to note that Maurice manage to overcome a dark moment of his life, a realization dawns on you as you look at Sam
"Why didn't you purchase Joseph then?"
"I didn't know much about Squeakyfriends."
"Do you really have to research a fluffy before taking one in?"
"Oh yes! That is the same for ANY pet. Trust me. Some dog breeds are harder and more difficult to raise then others. The same applies to fluffies. And, I'm going to tell you right now, there are some fluffy breeds you do NOT want to own. At least at home."
"So, I take it squeakyfriends are okay then?"
"I guess." Sam's answer seems rather vague. Very unsure. You could tell there was an air of hesitation.
"Whats wrong with Squeakyfriends?"
"The Squeakyfriend line does come from Hasbio, but they were also the result of a partnership with Cutebox Labs, Inc. That was years ago. And, on top of that, Hasbio stopped the line of Squeakyfriends a few years back, so any new Squeakyfriends come not only from breeders, but also Cutebox labs.
"So whats the diff? Whats the big deal?"
Cutebox Labs, Inc. (Artist:Squeakyfriend)
Sam turns to you. His tone is slightly serious and has an air of concern.
A variety of Squeakyfriend fluffies (Artist:Squeakyfriend)
"With Hasbio, we can have a rough idea of what they're trying to achieve and accomplish. But when it is a company partnered with Hasbio, they could be doing things we don't know about. I have contacts in Hasbio, but I don't have any in Cutebox. I've heard things. Things like ghosts. Aliens. A slime fluffy." ( >>33190 >>50843)
"Thats what I call it, but it is basically a fluffy made entirely of water. And apparently there was one fluffy among them, a mad scientist, who did all kinds of experiments on his fellow fluffies."
"Sounds like a load of hogwash."
"Maybe. And to be honest, I've dealt with worst. Like, you don't want to own a fluffy of the filialcacophony breed, my friend."
As he says this, you hear a soft and sudden "SWAG" pass by your ears
"I'm gonna take Joseph in, but I really got to keep an eye on him. Make sure he's not up to trouble."
"Jesus, you're being melodramatic. I mean what is the worst he could possibly do?"
\"Fwuffies awe wobots!\" (Artist:Squeakyfriend)
Just as you say this, you now notice that Joe is reading the newspaper. On the floor, Joseph is currently talking to a wide-eyed Rexxie and Maurice, as he voice has a rather concerned tone. ( >>41127 & >>41127 )
"Nu, jus-just wisten! Fwuffies awe wobots - hoomans MADE fwuffies! In wabs! "
"D-dats siwwy! Rexxie am a fwuffy! Nu a wobot!"
"Wisten! Fwuffies awe a speciaw wobot, a toy!"
"Eeeeh! Mauwice nu am toy!"
Maurice runs away, crying to Sam, as he pleads to his owner.
“Daddeh, daddeh! Mauwice nu am toy! Wight daddeh?"
"No, you're not, my dear Maurice. Hugs?"
As he proceeds to carry Maurice on his shoulder, he beckons to Rexxie and the newly-acquired Joseph to join, "Come along boys, lets go home."
It is all fun and games, but, Joseph's awareness of his existence has weirded you out. And, as you watch him closely, while leaving the daycare with the others, you can't help but wonder what this little fluff might have in store for you.
submitted by Oculusfluffy to fluffycommunity [link] [comments]
2020.10.20 14:10 cjsb28 16,000 Days, A Set of Random Memories
16,000 Days, a Set of Random Hidden Memories Claire Joy cjsb28
Written Sunday, Aug 23, 2020
16,000 Days Ago Tuesday, November 2nd 1976. Jimmy Carter was being elected as President of the United States, and a confused girl was born in Kansas City, Missouri. A girl who doctors and the world proclaimed was a ‘boy’. I was the apple in everyone’s eyes.
13,120 Days Ago On my bike, riding down the hill to my house as fast as I can go. Fervently peddling, because I thought if go fast enough I could leave my shadow behind. I know, it’s stupid, but I was a dumb kid. I rounded the corner, and took a bad fall in front of the house in the bushes. To this day, my left wrist bears the scar where the jugular was almost sliced by my stunt. I thought I could drive away my shadow, I wanted it to be true. But no matter how fast I go, how far I go, how hard I try, my shadow is always there.
12,844 Days Ago From the mirror’s eye I could see her. Long hair let down, dressed in mom’s jumpsuit, rolls of socks on my chest where breasts might go. I’m terrified, and so alive at the same time. My ears wide open for the sound of tires on gravel, telling me to hurry up and get out of the outfit. But they’re not home, so what’s the harm I asked myself, slipping on mom’s hosiery. Even now it was creepy, but I imagined being a girl and a woman, imagined then prayed. As the nights ran into one another, I would often pray that I would wake up a girl, and everyone else would know me as one without memories of being a boy.
12,665 Days Ago Burke Elementary, the playground behind the baseball diamond there is a huge maple tree, and it constantly shed acorns on the ground. Warm days of recess, everyone else is playing, but I am alone under the shade of this tree. I look at them playing, and hear them shouting in the background. My eyes are closed, I take a breath, I let it go. This comes naturally, there is no concept for me at this time about meditation. There is peace here. There is no internal battle going on because I am one, suddenly alone, truly alone, I am complexly self-aware of my own existence and I become very scared. Quickly I rise up, and run toward the others on the playground. But in that brief moment of time I can imagine life both as a girl and as a boy. At the time, the eighties, there was no concept of a child holding their puberty through drug intervention, no idea that that could ease into what would be discovered later as ‘transition’, the ability to change gender through medical intervention and social acclimation. So in the days and months that follow I would do everything I could to make these feelings go away. No more dressing in mom’s things, no more wondering what life could be like, these feelings are to be left in the trash of my own past, and from now on I was going to be the best friend, brother and son anyone could be. So I started to pretend, I would pretend that I was a boy, a good friend, a good-natured brother, a loving son. I did this for them and myself, thinking this whole being a girl thing was too weird to air aloud, and like the earliest days, kept it buried a hundred miles deep.
That old maple tree is there to this day.
11,501 Days Ago The old church had that old-church smell, and the Thursday night was quiet with me alone. The scout troop remained small all through my teen years. Eventually we had others join, long-time scouts. We were never really good friends, though, something set me apart from others my whole life, some odd disconnect only I could know. It was the same distance that kept me from engaging too much in my own life. The separation between my gender inside and the outside world of expectations. All I wanted from life was a little ordinary. No more thoughts about being a girl, this time I would ‘man up’ and be the best son I could be, a friend when possible, a brother to my sisters. In the years that follow, I would turn away, forget about my feelings. For a time it sort of worked, yet in disturbing intervals it would somehow return, that feeling of disconnect. It didn’t go away when I was eight, it didn’t go away when I was a twelve, or fifteen. Latter, I kept rolling in what I have come to know as ‘dysphoria’ There and back again, over and over, like a fire that will not burn out. Even though I could push it aside, concentrate on being who everyone else thinks I am, often enough it would crop back up in the hidden war raging inside myself.
8,872 Days Ago The lifeguard gig is the best job I ever had. It was community college just after high school graduation. I had a mind to still somehow become a military officer so decided on a practical major, civil engineering. While getting the basic classes out of the way, I kept busy with the part-time job of lifeguard, mostly to pay for a car to go between home and classes. During a set of my rotations, I watched over girl’s high school swimming practice and meets. Sitting there, it became clear to me I was feeling an odd mixture of attraction and envy or jealously. It was disturbing at the time to feel like that. In the months that followed, I would look back on my own childhood, wondering what was affecting me. This was the dawn of the internet, so why not search this out. I was 20 years old, and this is the first time ‘transexual’ entered my vocabulary. Of course I knew about trans people, but my impressions was based on pop culture of the 80’s and 90’s; caricatures and jokes in movies and trashy TV talk shows. There were chat rooms and online billboards in 90’s style internet, but reading their stories it was all bad news, dark times of transition, loosing most of the people in their lives, work and family and the tribulations of ‘passing’ in a hostile world. The costs, both financial and personal, were too great to consider further notions of transition. So I decided to completely shut it down, to keep myself constantly busy with school or work or exercise. My friends at the time were far away, so I was alone in the early college years. My parents were separating, but we were able to live in the ancient house on Drury full of ghosts from a long faded childhood. Mom and Autumn needed my help, but I neglected them and ignored them. Often I would drive to southern Kansas to be with old friends again on weekends. Any chance to be outside the house I took it.
My life was a train wreak, and I believed everything was just fine. Denial is a powerful drug.
5041 Days Ago University finals are done, and graduation is just before Christmas. Mom and Dad are proud of me, grandma and Autumn are also there on this cold December night. After the pomp and circumstance of the graduation ceremony, we dined at an Italian restaurant, and dad gave me a gold coin for a gift. University was something I wanted to get done and over with, thinking my life was truly begin, but first I wanted to travel, to see if I could make my way west and maybe find work there and move.
5002 Days Ago After a costly car repair of replacing my alternator to the 1995 Honda Accord I was driving across the country in the winter time, just outside a small town in northern Utah. My mind at the time was a mess, I wanted to get as far from the house on Drury as I could get. I wanted to be done with all thoughts of transition and being a woman. In the mess behind the driver’s seat was the usual disaster of clothes and bags, and in one of these bags are a set of old women’s clothes I was wearing earlier this morning before the breakdown. The sun was falling down, and I was one hour west of Boise. Before driving into the Blue Mountains of Oregon, overlooking the Snake River Valley, there was a scenic overlook. This is where I stopped. This is where I got out of the car, in the crisp air, overlooking the wild mountain valley full of clouds rolling fast like sun-laden water. As I stood there in awe, there was a switchback trail below me going down. I traversed it some, just to a point were there was a clear fall of hundreds of feet. This is where I could end all of it, I thought. This is where my hidden war inside myself could finally be decided. Was this the real reason for my journey west? Was this why I came here? In a daze, I drifted precariously to the edge, my eyes unused to flow waxed to the full. This was it, this is where this will end. I leaned forward. On the road above me, a truck blared its horn. Surprised, I shot backwards into the other side of the trail and on the ground. Breath returned to me, how long did I hold it? Trembling between the worlds I stared, lost in a place that can never be, I stayed there for a long, long time until the sun had fallen down. I climbed back to the car, still shacking, still crying in the cold air. It was a long dark drive to Portland. Just drive, I thought terrified in the darkest night of my life. Up and down mountains, freezing and thawing, getting chains, placing them and taking them off and repeating over three valleys. It took hours, all through the night into the smallest hours of the next morning before I reached Portland. With tired eyes and tired thoughts, somehow I found the hostel, somehow I found sleep, although I don’t remember checking in, or the final reach of the drive.
I lost something today. I lost myself.
4985 Days Ago The journey west was left wanting. I visited Portland but didn’t stay long enough to really apply for work, afraid I would run out of money, a very real possibility. So I carried on, traveling north to Seattle and found it busy and too urban for my likening. Then I went north again into Vancouver, BC. I loved Canada, saw a hockey game with new friends. Time was not on my side, so it was south, back to Portland for a day then just south of San Francisco. I wound up in a private room in a seaside youth hostel where I put on my women’s clothes and despaired. Crashed to sleep in them, and crazily, the room was not mine at all, and others made their way into it and slept in the other bed. Embarrassed that both I was in the wrong room and the fact that I was ‘in drag’ made the situation dire. Desperate and embarrassed, I hurried back into boy clothes and rushed out as fast as possible. I trashed the clothes that moment in the nearest dumpster and drove off as fast as I could out of there. This made visiting my Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Roger that much more awkward with that fresh in my mind. Of course I couldn’t mention the cross-dressing but nervously told my story and my adventure across the country. Today I am in El Paso, Texas, visiting my older sister Mary Lynn. Searching for the map, just a second passed, over the rise in the motorway there was stalled traffic. I could only slow the car before impact. The accident left my car broken again, a crushed radiator that needed repairs. No more money, I had to borrow a thousand dollars from Mary. I hate borrowing money, especially from family, the minute I have it I’m repaying her. Tonight we drank together, Mary and her husband Mike, and a few of their friends from the military, and damn did I need it. Think it was the first time I tried Crown and Seven, but I really liked it. We had a fun time, got caught up on the latest, and just joked around, it was a good time. Tomorrow is a long 19-hour drive back to Kansas City. This journey left me defeated and victorious at the same time. But I can’t help thinking I lost more than I gained. I have bills to pay, the real world demanded satisfaction, and I would have to wait.
4984 Days Ago It took every bit of 20 hours driving to get back to Kansas City. I hoped never to see that house on Drury again. But here I am, a broken and defeated...man? woman? What the fuck was I? My hidden war inside myself is far from over. There were practical matters to settle. My goals now are to get a part-time job, not in engineering but just a job so that I can maintain my life while physically preparing for the military officer candidacy training I wanted to do, and I’ll give myself 8 months to do it. I will run daily, drop weight, and study for exams. Repaying Mary is top on my list, after that I guess I’ll live in Drury until I can’t anymore. Mom and dad are separating, and mom lives in an apartment not far away, while dad stays with his new girlfriend Janet. I don’t know how to feel about this, with everything else going on inside and elsewhere in my life. All I want to do is forget about this whole misadventure. Put away any thoughts of being a woman and focus on enlisting in officer training school.
4744 Days Ago After eight months of preparation, delaying my engineering career, I have been officially disqualified from military service for medical reasons, some given were flat feet and severe near-sightless. My scores were mediocre, and not worth mentioning. This entire time was a waste.
4534 Days Ago After being fired from my first engineering job, it’s clear to me engineering was a wrong path. So I started exploring other options. For about three months I had been volunteering at St. Luke’s Hospital emergency room. I want to give nursing a try, so this week I’m applying for nursing college. My new friends are cool, we talk often and I feel like I’m appreciated here.
4224 Days Ago Months ago I applied for work at the city of Kansas City as a codes inspector. After my last interview, I got the call and accepted the job. My goal of going to nursing school ran short as money again was too tight, even still living in that dreadful house on Drury. The house is being sold soon, so I would have to move and be on my own for the first time. I’m taking an apartment on Wyoming Street in Westport.
3509 Days Ago Vietnam has become my new favorite country. Traveling the with my friend from work, his name is Ha, and his family was a blast. This is a book in itself, but briefly we traveled from the Mekong Delta to Hanoi and many places in between, including the mountain town of Da Lat and the seaside town of Hoi An. We spent three weeks in Vietnam. (In case you’re wondering, Ha is married, straight as far as I know, but his wife couldn’t go so I was his “other wife” lol, promise it wasn’t gay, much).
3328 Days Ago Long had it been since I even though about those times, the darker times where my head was messed up and I was so confused about my life and something as fundamental as my gender. It was wonderful, I could just forget. I lived in my house on 14th Street for about five years now, and I was not alone, mom moved in with me. Still, I had hoped to fall in love and marry and start a family here, but I’m 35 years old now. In many ways, much of my life had slipped me by. I thought I could ‘forget’, but that’s just it, I can’t ‘forget’ if the war is constantly on my mind. It was the real reason my relationships failed all my life, the internal struggle that everyone else seemed to see except me. Because of this, my failure to transition, waiting until after all my hair has fallen out and I had hid myself away in drink and video games until I was severely obese, that I hit bottom. This summer I started reading literature, works of all kinds from Russian to British. One of the authors was Virginia Wolfe, and her book “Orlando”. I had no idea what it was about, unusual as I mostly read cliffs notes before diving in. It seemed boring at first, a 16th century nobleman on his journeys. Then on one adventure, half way through the book, he is magically transformed into a woman, and continues her quest as Lady Orlando. I threw the book across the room. All of a sudden, all those memories of my struggles resurfaced, and I realized my feelings was not a new phenomenon, this book was written in the early 20th century. It was a tidal wave of emotions. I deny all of it, this is not me. Is it?
2689 Days Ago My mom and sister moved out a year ago and now I find myself alone. Every day I get off the bus from work, and cry while walking to the house. I am trapped by an upside down house mortgage, a job I hate, a town I’m forced to live in completely alone, and now trapped in my own body that has become old, fat, bald and apparently trans. In my house there is a .385 Magnum revolver I had previously purchased from a gentleman I meet on some enchanted evening in the ghetto. The revolver is loaded with one round. Inside a cold, dark house, more alone than at any other time in my life and completely surrounded by darkness, and completely trapped inside. I demonized the world outside and locked myself inside, no clarity about how to get out of the situation. I am caught in a web, in a cage. There is only one way out, right? Play the Game, spin the wheel. I lift the heavy cold steel to the back of my head, aiming for the brain stem to be sure I don’t survive my injuries. Pull the trigger mechanism. In the silence of a cold dark house, the sound of an empty revolver hammer against my skull remains to this day the loudest sound I have ever heard. Wide-eyed terror, I laid the gun on the dinning table. Long had it lain there, as a stared at it. I took it apart, the round was the next one, gathered its parts and rounds, and threw it into the Missouri River. This concludes my second attempt to end my life.
To this day I never touched another firearm, and never will again.
577 Days Ago Eight rounds in the cold of night. It had been a week since the first shooting, a near miss involving the neighbor’s kids who were being shot at by a rival gang drive by. No one then was killed, their kid was injured. I found rounds landed in the bed I was just moments before inside and called the police. That is the first rule of the hood; keep your business to yourself. They came back tonight. Eight rounds into the Honda Civic, one ended up in my bed feet from where I was laying asleep. I fled to Dad’s house. This is the last night I would spend here. To top it all off, I got a job offer in plans review, and if you asked me just a few months earlier before all this I would have took the job gladly. Instead, pacing in dad’s basement alone all night, decided against the job.
This is the third time I should be dead.
325 Days Ago It’s a bright sunny September Day. Work was done early so I returned the work car to the parking garage, to its usual spot on the 8th floor. It suddenly got dark, not an ordinary mid-day cloud cover but a darkness I can barely describe, like a strange night suddenly descended on me. It became hard to breath, and I sat out at the back of the SUV for a long time. All I could see was six feet around me, and the parapet wall some ten paces from me. My thoughts suddenly went to that parapet. How easy it would be hop on, how easy it would be to stand on the ledge, how easy would it be to let gravity finally do the work for me. It was a panic attack, an uncontrolled incident that nearly cost me my life. Someone walked by while sitting at the car and startled me, again an angel snapped me out of it. Dad’s words from earlier last week rang in my ears, “I think you should be happy, I think everyone has a right to be happy”. This was my third attempt, and my fourth time I should be dead. No more. Tonight I reached out to a therapist, I know now I need help. After years of denial, the fact that I’m trans is undeniable. My time has come to finally try to put a handle on this. It didn’t go away when I was 8, it didn’t go away when I was 20, nor at 26 nor at 30 nor at 35 nor at 38; this was going to haunt me until I end up mad or dead. My time has come to stop swinging from a spiral and become the woman I am inside.
57 Days Ago Ten months of running trails and therapy, over 100 pounds of weight lost. Delaying for three months while waiting for the fertility clinic to open after Covid-19 had been mitigated enough to reopen. Turned out to be another waste of time because I am not fertile, and probably could never have had children. Sad but now anxious to start, I finally got my medication for estrogen and anti-androgens. After decades of dreaming, I gave myself my first injection of estrogen on 27th of June, 2020. I am 43 years and 8 months old. My life is just beginning.
My name is Claire Joy, you see me, it’s good to be here with you.
Present day, Sunday, Aug 23, 2020
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2020.10.20 01:59 maxwutcosmo Tifu by using my dads pone
TL;DR tifu by accidentally looking at my dads hidden photos of him and my mom/ his ex wife. Now I feel disgusting and need help feeling better
So today, I was shopping on line to buy a helmet for my costume. I have a teen account with Amazon and I usually use my moms prime membership, but she can’t afford it at the moment. So I asked to borrow my dads phone to buy the product. I do this stupid thing that whenever I have someone’s phone, I take selfie’s with is to surprise them later. I do this with my dads phone a lot and wanted to see all of the pictures I took, since he’s not one to take pictures of himself. I scrolled down to where it said selfies, but under it, it said hidden photos. I had no idea that that was a thing. So being the dumb 16 year old I am, I clicked on it. Big mistake. There where “hidden camera” videos of him and my mom... you know... and I’m not entirely sure if she was aware he was filming. No I did not watch it. I just saw the thumbnail. But there was no a lot of it. I quickly got out of it. But he and my mom aren’t even married anymore. He had a new wife and he still had those videos. He also has this picture of a random girl suntanning at the beach. I am telling myself he has that pic bc of the cool tattoo. I feel so weird now that I saw that. And don’t get me wrong I completely understand how dumb I was to go threw his pictures and I feel so bad. I really want to forget and feel better. Any advice? Thank you for reading and have a great day
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2020.10.20 00:03 RobinAnonymous Moms hidden video
I think I've killed them.
That's all that is running through my head right now. I've killed them.
I've killed them.
I've fucking killed them.
No, I can't think like that. I have to stay positive.
It's so fucking hard to stay positive right now.
As much as I want to tell you what's going on right at this moment, I have to go back days from now, before everything exploded. Before I lost both myself and my friends. I have to write all of this down so I can register it fully, and accept it. I have to accept it. Because right now I can't. I've tried writing this so many times, but my head is so fucking foggy, and my thoughts feel like candy floss. The phone's screen is so bright and it hurts my eyes. I have to concentrate. That's what I keep telling myself. I have to breathe. Just keep breathing. It's not like I'm hiding anything anymore. They know I'm sober. They know I'm awake, and it's only a matter of time before they come for me too; do the same thing to me. Oh god, they're going to kill me. I'm going to die.
Maybe I deserve it, though. After all, I think I've killed their biggest stars.
I'm going to start from when I last updated you. Once again, I have no recollection of how many days I've lost. James took them from me. I want to check it myself, but part of me would rather stay ignorant. All I know is that it is sunny outside. The sky is blue, and the trees are golden brown. Fall. My favourite season. It feels weird to remember that. That I have a favourite season. Katie's favourite is Summer. She likes to go to the lake with her friends, and swim in the river. I know more about my character than I know myself, and every second that goes by I feel like I've been tipped upside down and emptied of everything I am. So, I'm going to remind myself before it's too late.
My name is Robin Harley.
At least, that's how you know me. I wrote my real name before this one, because it feels like it is fading, along with everything I am. But I know who I am. My favourite book is Kafka On the Shore. My favourite food is chicken alfredo. I have a dog called Julia, and I'm terrified of the dark. Such small things, like a kid making a list. This is easier for me, though. I must remember who I am, before it's taken away. For James I must be Katie, and for you, I'm Robin. I miss being called by my real name. My mother named me after her favourite flower. I grew up thinking it was a stupid name. I wanted to be called a pretty name like Holly or Charlotte. My friends often asked me why my name was spelled the way it was, and how to pronounce it. As a kid, I had been mortified. But as I grew up, I began to love my name, treasure what it meant to my mom to call me it.
I didn't think something as simple as a name, an identity, could be snatched so cruelly. But it has. I almost feel like I'm writing a story. Like we're just characters in someone's coerced reality. That's ironic, considering the plan our network has for us. I'm nothing but a puppet in James's sick game. I'm a shell for Katie Parker, and everything that is me, that is [REDACTED] he plans to eradicate, like it's that easy. Like taking away who I am, my consciousness is like child's play.
It's the blood stains that I can't stop thinking about. So much blood, so much life draining away like it was nothing. LIKE THEY WERE NOTHING. LIKE THEY WERE NOTHING.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm not making sense. I can't make sense right now, even as I read while I type, I might as well be reading hieroglyphics. The floor underneath my feet feels like liquid when I stand on it. There is blood on Rory's bed. It's only a little bit, a smear of crimson staining light pink pillow cases. But it's twisting my stomach. My chest is aching. Every time I look at his bed, I want to scream. I want to scream until my throat is fucking raw, until my lungs have collapsed. It's Noah all over again, but at that point, Noah survived. I didn't think he would, after seeing his body convulsing in front of me, flickering eyes still glued to Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck bleeding through ancient static. I'll never forget the way his head had dropped limply, bouncing on his chest like a puppet severed from their strings. His fingers, which had been frantically tapping out Morse code had gone still. Everything that was him, that was Noah, had gone still, and for one heart-stopping moment I thought I'd lost him.
I didn't lose him. You already know that.
Thanks to Derek Marley's confession, I know now that they weren't trying to kill Noah. Instead, they were using his body like a host, as if his character was a parasite. I've gone through the stages in my head so many times I know them off by heart. James's voice still crackling through static on each video clip still haunts my thoughts, as if the man himself was burrowing his way into my mind, forcing himself inside every piece of me.
Stage 1: Empty out.
Stage 2: Programming.
Stage 3: Insertion.
I thought I could still save Noah. I could save Rory, and Izzie and Lana.
I thought I could save them.
I thought I could save them.
The blood on Rory's sheets makes me sick, and I can't stop thinking about them.
I can't stop THINKING ABOUT THEM.
I'll get to that. Because I'm here to tell our story, in what I hope is some kind of cohesive, even if it's a seemingly never-ending stream of consciousness which does not make sense. I'm sorry about that. I don't cut out what I write. I leave everything in, because I want to look back at this at some point, if I get out of this hell-hole. I want to re-read everything that took place. Every thought I had, even if it makes the least lick of sense. Every emotion I've felt, I want to feel it again. I want to torture myself again, but I know I'll never feel the way I'm feeling right now. Numb. Nothing. I feel nothing. Maybe I am Katie. Maybe James forced her into me during my daze where the days bled together, the pitch dark and sunlight colliding, but my thoughts weren't mine. And when they were, when clarity took over, I struggled to understand why I was so fucking numb. Why I couldn't cry. Why I'd stripped Rory's bed of his covers, and thrown them in the wardrobe. Why I sat against it for what felt like oblivion, with my back against cool, hard wood, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't open it again.
I couldn't look inside.
Because I would break apart all over again.
Now my head is clear, I know why. The sun is less of a confusing haze, and I can think a little clearer . So, I'm going to do what I always do; since I found you. Now that my mind is clear, I'm going to stop thinking about the wardrobe, and instead lose myself in you.
Inside this stupid phone which isn't even mine. It hasn't got my pastel blue phone case, and the lock-screen of me and my mother standing under a maple tree in Japan. It has none of that. Not my Apple playlist or my Instagram page. My endless collection of notes which is just shopping lists, or casting calls, or snippets of poems that come to me, and mom just a text or phone call away. My phone is gone. Except this phone feels like mine, even if there's none of my personality, a total blank. I've kept it hidden for so long, a secret under my mattress. The one thing stopping me from losing my mind.
I'm going to write to you, and leave nothing out. I'm going to tell you everything in as much detail as possible, despite my shaking hands and concaving stomach.
Writing to you is my outlet. I know not many are reading, and that most of you are sceptical, but I'm truly grateful for each and every comment you leave. Thank you for translating Noah's message. Thank you for telling me what was in the shot in Derek's office. Without you, I would have crumbled my now. So if you're reading, I beg of you, please keep going. If you have to, tear apart everything I say. Take notice of hints that I leave, like places that I have to blank out. Because you're my only hope right now. You're my only connection to the real world, to a reality I've been taken away from.
So please don't give up on me. Tell me you understand. Tell me you want some kind of update. Because you are all I have.
I say this, because once again, I need your help. Hopefully for the last time.
The last time I updated you, I'd made what I thought was the biggest mistake of my life. slamming Rory over the head with a table lamp. He had gone limp, falling back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. I took your advice and did not use the shot. I didn't know what it would do to him, especially if he had some kind of brain or head injury. Instead of doing what my heart was screaming at me to do, I slammed the door shut and removed the book. Guards, I thought hysterically. There were too many guards, and I would never leave the others. I felt selfish. Wrong. Like my heart had ben ripped out of my chest. But I held myself, and I stayed with Rory all night, waiting for him to wake up.
Except he didn't, and the more time progressed, the glaring red letters on my bedside clock flickering later and later, the sick feeling in my gut worsened.
"Rory." I felt like I was on fire, climbing onto his bed and lifting his head onto my lap. I felt for bumps and bruises, but mostly blood. I checked the pillow and sheets, but they were clean. He was breathing. I kept telling myself that, pressing my hand against his chest. He didn't move. His body stayed flaccid, draped against me. He was freezing cold, so I bundled him under the blankets. Laying next to him, my mind screamed at me to do something. Tell James. I was at war with myself. If Rory really was hurt and needed medical attention, I was killing him to save myself. So I didn't get caught.
Did I care more about my castmate, or being caught sober? Especially if Rory was just knocked out. That thought haunted me well into the midnight hours. I fell in and out of sleep, but I didn't dream. I was too panicked to relax and allow my mind some kind of peace. I couldn't. I was drifting off to sleep for what felt like the tenth time, when something...snapped. At least, that's what it sounded like. I shot up, disoriented, and quickly realised that the same buzzing, the same noise of a swarm of bees, was slicing into the silence I'd found myself wrapped in. My attention went straight to Rory, and sure enough, it was coming from him. But something was... different. The first time I'd heard it, the sound was like prickling electricity or the erratic wings of an insect.
But this time it sounded like popping. Like something was snapping, crackling inside my friend's head. Slowly, I slipped off of Rory's bed and checked him once more. Still no movement. His eyes were still shut. His breathing was still normal.
Knowing what was inside Rory, I knew the sound must have been the chip, what James had inserted into his eye. It was his character, the parasitic Mac Price. Briefly, I thought about attempting to get it out with the scalpel I'd hidden under my bed. But I could blind him. With one wrong move, I could blind him. So, I crawled back into my own bed and buried my head in pillows that smelled of lavender. It reminded me of home.
I don't know how long I slept for. All I remember is being woken by a flock of birds screeching outside. As soon as I brushed off slumber, reality hit me hard.
The room was quiet, and my heart sank into my gut. I twisted around in bed, expecting to see my castmate still draped over sickly yellow covers, eyes shut.
The first thing I noticed was Rory's bed was empty. The covers and pillows were on the ground, and when I frantically searched for him, I found him.
Rory was standing in the same stance, straight shoulders, arms by his side. He was staring forward, that familiar vacant look splayed across his expression. He was already dressed in Mac attire; a short sleeved shirt and jeans. The early morning sun was streaming through the blinds, setting strands of his brown hair alight. His eyes were wide, earthy brown, a wrinkle between his brows. At that moment, I took a snapshot in my mind. If James was going to turn me into Katie, then I was going to remember him.
I was going to remember myself. When I happened to look into the reflection of James's glasses when he was leaning close, I glimpsed a girl who was far too thin, malnutrition transforming once healthy cheeks to ashen white. I saw tired eyes staring back, vacant and foggy with the phantom drug I was swallowing every day. I saw mousy blonde hair which used to be plastered across magazine stands, beauty magazines and teen Vogue. It seemed crazy that that girl was me. The girl who played Katie Parker. Because underneath the preppy blonde ponytail and face of makeup, there was me. It made me wonder. Did people see it? Did the public know, or did they look past all of that, to see their favourite character? Is that all I was to them?
Fucking Katie Parker.
I didn't know what to think, whether to be relieved that I hadn't seriously hurt Rory, or frustrated that he was still under James's control. I was speechless, my mouth opening and closing, words choking my throat. I wanted to say so much, but all I really wanted to do was bury my head in his shoulders and sob until my chest was aching. Before I could open my mouth, or move, there was the sound of familiar footsteps approaching our room, and I dived up, practically throwing myself beside Rory, slipping back into my façade. Standing shoulder to shoulder as usual, we waited for James. But when the door opened, and the writer walked in with his usual wide smile and twinkling eyes, I could have sworn Rory had flinched ever so slightly. It wasn't noticeable, at least not to James.
But to me, I felt it. I felt the tremor that ran through him, his shoulder bouncing against mine. Something inside me ignited, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I had hope; hope that braining Rory with the lamp had knocked out the chip connected to his iris. Except at that moment I refused to get properly hopeful. No way. I had to keep my façade. Even if all I wanted to do was turn to Rory, and demand if he was himself. If he was like me, awake and aware, struggling to hide behind a character.
Instead, I played along as usual. We were given the pill, which I had mastered the art of hiding behind my bottom teeth. I swallowed with emphasis and opened my mouth so James could lean in. He did, the glint in his eyes sending ice sliding down my spine.
"Kids." He addressed us, spreading his arms in a greeting. "How did you like last night? Did you enjoy your late night entertainment?"
Something struck me, like a knife stabbing into my back. The TV, I thought, struggling to stay completely immobile. But at the corner of my eye, it was back to where James had originally placed it, the ancient screen facing forwards, instead of towards the wall where I had shoved it. James seemed none the wiser, and I allowed myself to let out a breath. As usual, Rory and I didn't reply. James carried the usual, a brown paper bag full of breakfast sandwiches and two plastic white cups of water.
"Robin." James nodded at me. "You look like you're making progress!" He winked. "Perhaps I should take you for a consultation after today's shoot. How does that sound, hmm?"
I didn't move, keeping my gaze glued to him, waiting for him to look away, mentally begging the bastard to get distracted. Derek's confession was still on my mind, and what the network and James had collectively done to my castmates. And that I was next.
TBD. To be determined. I had to fight back a shiver.
Struck with the sudden overwhelming urge to scratch at my right eye, beads of sweat slipped down the back of my neck. James cocked his head and chuckled when I only stared back, just like he wanted. He was used to this, used to my body working the way he wanted, twisting and turning the way he wanted, my submissive eyes drinking him in, and nothing coming out of my mouth. I could practically see the glee lighting up his eyes every time I was forced to stand like a soldier, awaiting orders from his smug mouth.
"Huh." The writer hummed, pinching my chin. "I'll take that as a yes, sweetheart."
Staying still, I forced myself not to breathe. James moved onto Rory, and handed the pill to my castmate. "Mr Gallagher!" He beamed. "I'm pleased to tell you that you will be entering stage four today. Along with Mr Keaton, as well as Miss Faraday and Bright."
Bile slithered up my throat, but I still didn't move, my gaze falling to the carpet, burning into each fibre. I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come out. James's words felt like lightning bolts. They were going ahead with stage four with Rory, Noah, Lana and Izzie, and I couldn't stop it. The Writer's words had not left my head, still alive in my skull, prodding and poking until I couldn't bear it. The complete removal of consciousness, James had said. Which was them. Whatever was left of my friends, what hadn't already been purged from them, tearing them from themselves, those last flickers of what I loved. He was going to take it away. James was going to take it away forever.
And what would be left: nothing. Just a shell, a pretty face for their character.
I'd heard James loud and clear. "Give him a few weeks to settle in, and then we can move onto the final stage. Complete removal of lingering consciousness. Of course, we can replicate the young man's personality easily for press days and of course the fans. That will be easy. There will be no need for the boy. He will be disposed of, do you understand me?"
Disposed of. My ears were roaring. How was James planning on disposing on them? What did that even mean? His words were cutting deep. I felt sick. No, I was going to be sick. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and my legs were ready to give-way.
Mac's all-too-familiar American twang sliced cleanly through my thoughts.
My head snapped up. For a disorienting moment I forgot I was supposed to be keeping behind a façade, and a hysterical bubble of laughter climbed its way up my throat. I hadn't laughed in so long, and it almost felt alien to me, but I managed to swallow it down. Rory's expression was still blank, still vacant, but the crease between his brows had grown. His lip was slightly curled into what might have been a frown.
He looked... confused. Which at that point, it was better than nothing.
James's expression had twisted in a flash, his eyes slitting, lips twisting into a scowl. He was still holding the pill out to the boy, who wasn't taking it, his arms staying by his sides. The writer cleared his throat, composing himself despite being rattled.
"I'm sorry, what was that, Mr Gallagher?"
I risked keeping my gaze on Rory, and everything inside me was begging, screaming at him to lash out, teeth gritted, eyes blazing. Rory didn't do that, however. He seemed to flinch again, but this time it was noticeable. His whole body shuddered, his eyes flickering, before his right arm jolted, and he reached out and took the pill.
Maybe I was imagining it, but it was like Rory was glitching.
"Mr Gallagher?" Stepping forward, James watched Rory pop the pill into his mouth. My castmate's expression had gone blank once more, but his arm was still trembling, pressed against mine. Rory swallowed the pill and opened his mouth on order, before the writer pulled out a small hand-held torch. He clicked it on, motioning Rory towards him.
Rory complied, and let James shine the light in his eyes. He didn't even wince. James checked both eyes, leaning in close. "Huh." James clucked his tongue. "Perhaps you had some kind of momentary malfunction," He grabbed my castmate's bare arms and squeezed them, beaming. "Don't you worry, young man. Once the final stage is complete, there will be nothing to interfere with the programming. The original consciousness will be completely removed, which will of course be a relief for the two of us."
James's words didn't sink in. I didn't let them. If I did, I'd shatter there and then, and James would catch me out. So I didn't move. I didn't breathe, and blinked back the sting in my eyes.
"Understand?" James motioned for Rory to nod, and my castmate did, his arms falling limply back to his sides.
"Wonderful!" The writer started to go through the same old routine, briefing us on our schedules, as well as lecturing us on being on our best behaviour, despite knowing the two of us were under the influence of a mind altering pill, as well as a microchip forcing our characters inside our heads. I mostly tuned out, trying to think of a way to save the others from what I was sure was a fate worse than death. Derek Marley had said that participating in the project would haunt him forever. His last message to Noah was sincere, but he was right. Noah would never forgive him. None of us would.
I had to get them out.
James's voice faded into white noise, until he reached the door, and turned to the two of us. "Eat and get ready for the day, please. I want things to go smoothly, so make sure to be good kids." He chuckled and then winked. "Mr Gallagher, I'll see you after the shoot."
The writer gave me a dismissive wave. "Miss Harley, a guard will pick you up as usual and take you home, since I will be quite busy."
Nodding, as if he was reassuring himself everything was going to be just fine, James hurried out, whistling some old Disney song that I vaguely recognised.
When the door slammed shut, I let my breath go, dropping to my knees. Spitting the pill out, I swallowed hot bile in my throat, willing myself not to hurl. Hot tears were spilling down my cheeks and I couldn't stop them, no matter what I did. The severity of the situation came over me like waves of ice cold water, and I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear into the floor. I wanted to be anywhere else than that room with my brainwashed castmate. Who I knew I was about to lose in favour for a fictional character.
Bunching my fists into my eyes, I struggled to my feet and forced myself to the wardrobe we share, where my Katie attire was packed inside. I felt disgusting, still wearing the sweats I'd slept in. When I twisted to Rory, I was meant to ask him if his head was hurting, or he felt sick. Despite knowing my castmate was a submissive doll, I still wanted to know. But when I turned to my castmate, Rory was still standing in the same spot. He was staring at something, and when I edged closer, holding my breath, I realised the pill was pinched between his thumb and index finger. The colour was darker, dyed to an almost purple shade with his saliva. Looking closer, his expression was no longer blank. Instead, there was the slightest glimmer of awareness in his eyes.
I held onto that with everything I had.
"Rory?" I choked on his name, and he flinched again, turning to face me. I knew then, when my castmate's gaze landed on me, that something was wrong.
His eyes were twitching, which seemed to affect his whole face, his cheeks wet with tears. A million emotions flashed across his expression, and he pressed two fingers to his right eye. When I said his name again with the gutter of my throat, his gaze found mine again, but Rory didn't look at me, not really. His lip curled and his eyes slitted with pain and frustration, but there was no glint of recognition igniting in warm browns. At least, it wasn't the teasing smirk and warm glint which was Rory. Instead, it was all Mac. Still twitching, as if he was fighting his character for his own mind, Rory dropped the pill onto the carpet, and crushed it with his foot, before turning to me.
And then something stabilised. My castmate, or whatever was left of him, the parts of him still fighting back, trashing the pill, was shoved deep into the crevices of his own mind, and his character was bleeding through. Exactly who James wanted him to be. There was the recognition coming to life in another's boy's eyes. Sixteen-year-old Mac who had been crushing on Katie Parker since middle school. Not twenty-year-old Rory, who swung the other way and would in fact rather eat his own tongue than look at me like that.
"Hey, what are you waiting for?" Rory cocked his head. I could see so much put-on emotions in that one stare. Longing for the girl he crushed on, as well as the pain of looking at her, knowing she was with another guy. I saw his obsession to keep his youth alive, and live every day as his last. It was Mac's character. As well as being a lovable idiot, he was determined to make every day count. I half wondered if all of that had been programmed into the chip, which was currently forcing my friend's brain into compliance.
"Get dressed, we have school."
Staring back at him, I had the sudden urge to punch him square in the face. Maybe that might bring Rory back.
But it was too risky. Instead of replying to him, I showered and dressed as normal. That morning, the breakfast was different. Instead of the usual breakfast sandwich, there was a chocolate croissant each, individually wrapped in expensive looking paper, and what looked like two Starbucks coffee's to go. My mouth watered. I hadn't had anything sweet in what felt like weeks, unless that meant mindlessly chewing on a cupcake during my mediocre break on set.
I ate the croissant so fast I barely tasted the explosion of chocolate in my mouth. Combined with the coffee, it was like heaven. When Rory grabbed his and ate it in two bites before gulping down the coffee, the taste went sour in my mouth, and I had to swallow several times to avoid the croissant shooting back up my throat.
The unexpected sugary treat for breakfast wasn't an accident. Each breakfast item had been perfectly wrapped, like a gift. It was like a last supper, at least for Rory.
The sickly feeling followed me to set. It was the same routine. We drove to set, and I sat with my side pressed to Noah, as if being in close proximity to him would somehow change his fate. I was rushed to hair and make up, and two girls who gossiped about a new Netflix show they had been watching, buzzed around me, transforming me into Katie.
My hair was curled into effortless blonde rings, since we were in the midst of a homecoming dance episode, and glitter speckled my cheeks. All the glitter in the world could not hide the dark shadows under my eyes, so they gave up and remodelled my face so I barely recognised myself. We were filming outside that day, and the fall breeze was warm, tickling my bare shoulders. I wore a dress most of the morning, and stuck mostly with Noah. I spoke Katie's lines, acting as best as I could, even when I felt like I was shattering apart inside. We had a five minute break, and I stumbled around the set, trying to find everyone, keeping them in my line of sight, my heart speeding up when James appeared with a crumpled script and his phone. "Robin, Noah and Rory." He spoke up, his voice like a beacon to my castmates. Their heads snapped up from where they had been awkwardly circling craft services, grabbing finger foods and vanilla puddings stacked on plates.
Noah joined me quickly, sliding to my side. I tried not to think about the times I'd been freaking out about shooting, and him grabbing and squeezing my hand. Part of me wanted to reach for his, search for some kind of inclination that he was still there. Doing that, though, would cause suspicion. Following Noah's lead, I copied his nonchalant expression, while secretly painting a picture of him in my head. I can write this because I remember him. I want to remember him. I can see him so vividly it hurts; hair so black against skin so white. Izzie, standing off to the side, standing in a light blue skater dress perfectly hugging her figure, strawberry curls flaying in blank eyes I missed.
Lana. Coffee skin and brown hair in two pigtails. Her character Jules was a drama-queen.
We started the scene normally. Katie was walking to school with Will, already in her homecoming dress, and Mac was supposed to run up to us, and ask Katie to the dance.
I said my lines as instructed, wondering if they were going to be programmed directly into my head when I finally went through stage 4.
My wandering thoughts were interrupted when James and Simon, our director let out a collective sigh. "Mr Gallagher!" The writer's expression was stony. He twisted around, glaring at Noah and I, as if we had personally wronged him. "Where the hell is Rory?!"
Turning my head in my castmate's direction, I failed to notice two things. Maybe it was because Noah, for the first time, had followed my gaze, instead of looking into oblivion.
The first thing I noticed was like a punch to the gut.
Rory's accent was back. It was broken, splintered in his tone like it didn't belong, but it was back.
The second thing I noticed was that once again, he was twitching, this time his whole face spasming, while his shuddering hand grazed his left eye.
My castmate was stumbling, staggering, but himself. I could tell from the look in his eyes. Terror. That's all I was seeing. Pure, unadulterated terror.
"What the fuck." Rory spat out. His fingers formed pincers, and he stabbed at his swollen looking eye, whimpering. "What the fuck did you do to me?!"
The crew went silent, and James, for the first time in weeks, looked speechless.
"You." Managing to find his feet, Rory marched over to the writer, until they were face to face. "You're a sick bastard, you know that, right?"
James blinked slowly. "Mr...Mr Gallagher," He spoke calmly. "You appear to be off your medication."
Rory looked taken aback. "You think I'm sick?!" He hissed. "You're the sick one for shoving a razor blade in my fucking eye! What the hell is your problem?" Twisting around, Rory seemed to notice the rest of us, and he went pale, the fight going from his face.
His fingers went back to his right eye. "You... you did something to us," he moaned softly, picking at his eyeball. "What did you... what did you do to us?"
"Delusions." James spoke up with a sad shake of his head. "It appears Rory is very sick. He must not have been taking his medication. Oh, son. We shouldn't have brought you to set. You should have said something."
Rory stared, blinking rapidly. "No." He said sharply, his head turning, gaze snapping to each crew member. "No, we're not...we're not sick..." he backed away, before grabbing Noah and shaking the boy, but Noah was like a doll, limp and expressionless.
"Noah?" Getting increasingly frustrated, Rory slapped the boy across the face, and I felt the sting. But Noah didn't even blink. "Hey." My castmate's voice grew hysterical, "Don't just stand there! Hey! Hey, you're with me, man. Right? Noah. Fucking hell, Noah!"
Noah didn't move, and the pain on Rory's face was enough to kick my brain into gear.
"What did you do to them?" Rory demanded. "Fuck, there's something...there's something in my eye!"
"Rory, please calm down," James spoke calmly. "Can someone please get a hold of him so he does not hurt himself. Thank you."
"No!" My cast mate grabbed me, his fingernails stabbing into the bare flesh of my arms. I had to fight back a cry. "Robin." He spoke softly. "Robs, you're... you're in there, right?"
I didn't speak. Couldn't speak. I could only watch as Rory was grabbed by a guard. He struggled violently, until a needle was thrust into his neck, and he went limp.
"My goodness." James shook his head when the guard scooped up the boy bridal style. "Connor, take Mr Gallagher home please. I think it's time for the next phase of his treatment."
No. My stomach slithered into my toes.
"All of them, in fact," James continued. "Keaton, Bright and Faraday too. Harley isn't quite ready."
I could only watch as the others were herded away, and a familiar hand grasped onto my arm. I turned to see the same guard who called me "Little Bird". He was grinning from ear to ear. His grip tightened. "Let's get you home, Little Robin," he hummed.
The ride back to the hotel was blurry. I think I was crying, uncaring about keeping character and staying hidden behind foggy eyes. When we arrived back to the hotel, my mind started whirring. The car ride had been half an hour, including a gas station stop, where the guard had grabbed a coffee for himself, and filled the car's tank. My legs were shaking when we entered the hotel lobby, but the guard didn't start heading upstairs.
"Come along, Little Bird." He hummed, gesturing for me to follow. He made a face, tapping his pockets. "Huh. I've lost my key-card again."
I followed him down to the cellar, keeping distance. I had to get away. I had to find the others, and get them the hell out of this place.
"Stay." the guard grunted, before slipping inside 305, where the key-cards were kept. His expression confused me, the waggling of eyebrows and quirking of lips.
Thankful for the distraction, I forced my legs down the same clinical white hallway. 309 was lit up this time, not illuminated in TV static, actual bright yellow light. From my angle, I saw nobody in the room. My whole body was rattling, and I couldn't breathe, but I forced myself to slip through the door. I was right. The room was empty. At least of James and his minions. This...this is where I'm going to struggle with writing. I'll try my best to tell you, but this is my third time writing this part.
Every time I try, I can't.
Because even if I block out the worst, I still see it.
Inside 309 were my castmates. The four of them were in the same state as the videos on Derek's laptop. Plastic masks covered their mouth and nose, but this time their eyes were wide open and unseeing. A monitor told me their vitals, and after struggling to free Noah's wrists from the armrest, I found myself at a futuristic looking control panel.
That's what the room was, I thought, my fingers grazing each button.
James and Derek’s secret project.
The big, red lever was hard to not notice. It was staring at me, and my hand was twitching. Seeing my friends like this, vulnerable, strapped down and controlled. It willed me to wrap my fingers around cool metal, and wrench the lever downwards.
When the sirens started, I knew what I'd done was wrong.
My castmate's vitals were screeching, and all four of them had gone into shock, gasping for breath, eyelids flickering, bodies convulsing.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't fucking know what to do, so I went to work undoing their restraints. But they weren't looking at me. Their eyes were skyward, and I tried not to notice a cerulean glitter around each iris.
A parasite, I thought, my hands going still.
When the blood started to run, crimson against pristine white, the alarms stopped.
James ran in, out of breath. But I didn't stop wrenching at Noah's restraints until I was grabbed and dragged back. "Robin?!" the writer let out a hissed breath. "I should have known!" Around him, men and women in white were dashing around, attempting to stabilize the others. "I should have known!" He cackled again “You are a brilliant actress, after all."
His teeth clamped down on my ear, and I let myself cry out. At the corner of my eye, there was so much blood. It ran in tiny rivers, startling claret painting them.
James turned my head forcefully. He was out of breath, and I realise the writer was as scared as me. "You better hope and pray you haven't just killed my best stars," he spat, before thundering orders at the crowd of white. "Get them cleaned up and initiate a second procedure."
"But sir," A young male doctor twisted around, and his expression was panicked. "They have just haemorrhaged. If we try again, we could-"
"I don't CARE!" The writer yelled. "Do it! You saw them, right? They were on 50% when that little brat shut it down. I'm confident it was just a flux due to the abrupt stop."
"Marley." The Doctor cleared his throat. "I wouldn't recommend-"
The Doctor didn't finish his sentence. All around me, vitals were crying out again, and all I was seeing was vacant eyes and blood.
So much blood.
Oh God, I killed them.
Before I could understand the alarms and panicked yelling, James took me upstairs and shoved me in my room.
His last words were for me to pray.
But that was days ago. All of those blank days that I can't fully remember. All I do remember is James bringing in sheets covered in blood. Part of me recognised them from the ones the others had been laying on in 309.
I screamed. I screamed until he slapped me and told me to get a hold of myself.
"A reminder." James had said, throwing the sheets onto Rory's bed. I asked if the others were okay, and he gave me a long, hard look.
He brought me food, and I ate it.
And I stopped thinking.
But maybe that was a good thing.
I shoved the sheets in the wardrobe. I couldn't look at them.
My days became one big confusing blur.
At one point, my phone disappeared. I found it though.
It's been charged.
Funny. I don't remember charging it.
I've spent most of my day screaming, banging on the door. It feels good to scream again. But nobody is listening to me. Nobody will tell me if my castmates are okay.
Earlier, something was shoved through my door. A clear plastic baggie with an epi-pen and a yellow sticky note.
I can get you out of here.
Take this early tomorrow morning, and I will do the rest. I know trust is not on the cards right now, but I'm your best bet.
- A friend, if you'd like.
This brings me to the end of my post. I need your help. Why would someone give me insulin? Why the specific time? Should I take it, or is this another trick?
I'm not thinking straight right now, but do you think I really killed them? Am I the only one left?
If so, why is James still keeping me here? Am I going to die?
If this is my last post, and I'm taken and turned into Katie, or killed, I want you to know who I really am.
My name is [REDACTED]
The show is [REDACTED]
My castmates are: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]
Finally, the bastard who did this to us is: [REDACTED]
submitted by RobinAnonymous to nosleep [link] [comments]
2020.10.19 02:21 mekababy Moms video hidden
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submitted by mekababy to DigitalCodeSELL [link] [comments]
2020.10.18 16:19 NearbyPollution0 My cousin is accusing me of strange things how do I approach this?
We are not very close and did not see each other much growing up. I am 20F and he is 26M. He is staying with my family because he used to live isolated in a rural town and my aunt thought it was damaging his mental health. I don't know exactly what he has been diagnosed with but it is some kind of psychosis. I assume paranoid schizophrenia due to the nature of his actions.
He has said some strange things but I usually just brush it off and talk about video games with him. But things have started to get very worrying. He told me that he knew I was looking through his phone and told everyone about weird porn he watches. I was visibly uncomfortable and he went on to say that I told all his co-workers that he watches "cousin porn". I do not even know where he works or anyone he works with and obviously this is strange because I am his cousin.
Our rooms are adjacent and he said that he knows I am listening to him through the door. One day as well, I accidentally locked myself out of my bedroom and had to jimmy the lock. He came up with a screwdriver and took his own doorknob off because he thought that it was a message that someone was going to lock him out of his. Just yesterday he was angry at me and saying things like "I had my back turned for one second and you do this shit", I asked what he was talking about and he said that I've been putting things in his food.
I am not really his caretaker and we are not close so I sort of avoid talking about delusions with him. But today really worried me. He left a note on my door that said "Karen". I do not know anybody with that name. I asked him about it and he said "you should know". I was very confused but had to get ready for work so I went up to my room to do my hair. Then he knocked on my door and handed me a note that said something like "getting back at people is not the right way" but in a much meaner tone. I handed it back to him and told him I was scared because I didn't know what he was talking about. I realize after research that maybe this was not the right thing to say. He then told me that I have been orchestrating his suffering and I am the cause of it all. We are not close so I have no idea what to do. My mom is rather unforgiving and would probably make him move back to my aunts if I tell her.
He believes that our whole family is in on a conspiracy to get him help which he does not want. He previously thought that his older brother was the "puppeteer" but now that has shifted to me (perhaps because of the closeness of our rooms).
I guess what I am asking is how to deal with situations like these. I am only 20 and have no experience helping people like this. In the past I just vehemently denied the delusions and he simply says I am lying so I just walk away. I can tell that every time we talk he is looking for hidden codes and messages in the conversation so I tend to avoid him entirely. I need advice on how to talk the right way or maybe how to ask him to take his meds.
submitted by NearbyPollution0 to schizophrenia [link] [comments]
2020.10.18 13:58 Lily618 Moms hidden video
A small part of my back story is that my mom would feed me when i was a baby constantly to shut me up. Usually because people complained that I cried too much as a baby. There is even home video of me when i was maybe a few weeks old with my uncles saying "shut that kid up". The real reason i cried so much was due to chronic untreated internal and external ear infections not hunger tho.
This constant, "just please stfu" feeding method, was a good way to start an unhealthy relationship with food. It was food for comfort and seemingly the only form of comfort i could find or count on. I really just needed proper medical care with antibiotics, but im sure food was somewhat comforting to distract from the pain. Once i got a bit older i gradually turned to food for comfort more and more often.
For the past 9 months i have been working on losing weight. Well my whole life ive been trying to lose weight really, but this time i am very commited and i have adopted a more healthy mindset. I am training my brain to put myself and my wellbeing before others. Basically the opposite of everything I use to do.
As i got older a lot of my issues were due to wasting time and effort on people that didnt deserve my time or effort. 2020 has been a shit year, but it opened my eyes to the fact that I need to treat myself as well as i treat others. I realized i need to stop bending over backwards for those that dont ever help me if i need something . No one deserves anything from me except me.
I had parents that likely should not have became parents. I couldn't talk to either of them about anything At a young age I developed binge eating disorder to cope with unpleasant thought/ feelings/ lonliness. I was always taking care of my siblings, myself, and my mother. My mom would admit that I was more her mother than she was my mother. My mom is quite mentally ill yet sometimes she acts quite normal. She would disappear for a day or two, she would lay idel on the couch for weeks or months, she would scream and hollar all night ( preventing anyone from sleeping). She said dangerous things about killing all her kids so my dad hid the knifes and hunting guns.. sometimes she was dangerous and aggressive to be around. For example, she threw my brother down the stairs. She would drive erratically with all of us in the car. She also stole my brothers car when he was 16 and totalled it. She hit a semi and kept on driving (hit and run).
Since my mom was so unstable i became the mom figure in the house. I parented my siblings as well as my mentally ill mother, and even my dad when he wasnt working. I cooked. I cleaned, did laundry, made sure everyone was safe.
Ive always been generous so once i got older and had a decent paying job i would give away money to those who asked and needed it. Sometimes i gave money to friends. I mostly gave money to family. One particular incident was when i gave my brother college tuition, but he bought a gun with instead and promptly dropped out of college for the 2md time. Call me crazy, but I thought he would take college more seriously the 2nd time around. I wanted to see him succeed.
I also loaned and gave lots of money to my sister over the years. Most recently she wanted my money so that she could live in the house of her dreams. She wanted me to live with her in that house, (to help repay the debt to me). Shortly after she got the $$$ she wanted, we had a falling out. I had to leave the house since i signed the rights of the home away to her, and i never imagined she would throw me away and out like yesterdays trash. We never really fought before. Since that incident I have not really spoken to her in about 2 yrs.
The ordeal with my (30f) sister left (34f) me living in the cheapest hotel i could find that allowed dogs, motel 6. So i lived in a sketchy motel 6 with my 4 dogs for 6 months until i could find a new home. I was also attempting to emotionally and financially recover from allowing my sister to use me so harshly. I was working overtime to make extra money and doing my grad school program as well. She made my life like 1000x more difficult. I guess that is actually on me though. I should have never helped her. Even a "cheap" motel 6 isnt exactly cheap. I chose the hotel area because it was pretty close to my job, but i did not realize how dangerous it was. Another motel 6 guest was shot in the head during my stay. It was a very sketchy area.
That loan to my sister will never be repaid. I dont even care because I just want her to forever leave me alone. Even if it is repaid i cant see myself forgiving her. I would have stayed in the home i lived in prior to her moving here if she had not been so adamant that we should live together (me living in her dream home would help her decrease the debt owed to me, so that is the only reasonsn she initally wanted me there). Previous to my sisters dream home drama i was perfectly happy where I was living. I was renting a home with a great back yard for the dogs and I had plenty of space and privacy.
My mom is also constantly asking for money. If i actually respond to her messages or answer her calls she often wants something from me. With her tho she will likely take your money and donate it to her church or random people. There is a sad youtube video of her ("the crazy lady ") at McDonald's buying every guest their meals. I didnt actually watch the video i just know my sister did and she had attempted to get McDonald's to give her money back as she was clearly mentally ill in the video. BUT, Guess whose money funds these kinds of shenanigans... mine obviously. She told me she needed to get her car fixed with all that money. However, "God told her to give away."
If my mom's dog is sick she threatens to put it to sleep because she says she can't afford its treatment. She has done this to me at least 3 times. She knows i love dogs and i would feel obligated to ensure the dog gets proper vet care. Her dog is too young to be euthanized due to her inability to manage money. This last time i told her i wanted to pay the vet directly. Of course she conveniently forgot that part. She is very manipulative.
I have always been a caring and generous individual, but I am not made of money. I often falsly assume that everyone is as generous as I am when they have the means to be generous. However, that is completely false. Most people are greedy and once they get what they want, they throw you away until they want something else. I happen to have the highest paying job in my immediate family, and I am a hard worker but i am in grad school (expensive) and no where close to being actually wealthy. Its just that my mom cant work, brother never finished college, parents never went to college, and my sister went to college for something that makes it very difficult to find a high paying job.
I have a hard time grasping that the majority of humans are truly selfish and greedy. Others prioritize themselves before anyone or anything else. They make themselves the most important thing in their life. I have never been that way. I have never been kind and generous to myself, only others have benifited from that treatment from me.
2020 has been an awful year, but it has also been the year of removing toxic behaviors and toxic people from my life. Im not giving away my hard earned money anymore, unless its for a very important organization i believe in. Not for a family member ever again or friends. Im am no longer allowing anyone to treat me as miss money bags. I am no longer the person that they can go to to solve all their life problems that they have caused on their own. Other peoples problems are not my problems. I have enough stress and problems in my own life (that i must deal with on my own).
I have really become a person that puts herself first in many aspects of my life. Well im trying to always put myself first rather. I am trying to get physically healthy so i now eat to live and not live to eat. It feels good to not rely on the detrimental coping mechanism of binge eating. Removing toxic people from my life also makes me feel more stress and drama free. I enjoy my alone quiet time so much.
I remember the first time i snuck off to binge eat as a child. I was sad because my parents were emotionally neglectful, cruel, and would intentionally embarasse me at times in front of company. The parents also believed in spanking along with more aggressive and more painful methods of punishment than spanking , such as kicking my body and head into the metal bed frame, or hitting us with the vacuum cord.
I always felt completely alone because I was the middle child and my siblings seemed more well adjusted (likely because they relied on me as their mother figure while i did not have anyone providing motherly care/acts for me except for myself. My dad would only work at his job, work at home, and watch tv. He admitted he never wanted kids and we did not have a strong bond when i was young.
Anyway back to the 1st binge. I knew that my dad often kept big red gum and little debbies in his truck. One day i went out to his truck and probably ate a whole box of little debbie brownies, and while i ate them i realized i felt great. I probably ate a half box of another flavor of little debbies also.
My parents were the type where if you got really hurt you were afraid to tell them, and if you did tell them they either minimized the situation or got angry for potentially costing them a Dr.Visit. For example i went around for a week and a half with a sewing needle deeply embedded in my left foot. I knew something was seriously wrong immediately as i could not walk properly, so i told my mom. She told me to go get the mail immediately. The mail box was at the end of the drive way that was long, bendy, steep, and covered in ice. When I returned with the mail I tried to explain to my parents that every step felt like torture. Even though neither of them looked at my foot the parents made me feel like the injury was small or all in my head. They made me feel as if I had made up the injury, and i was being a baby. This caused me to question if i could even trust my own judgment or life experiences.
It wasn't until my foot turned purple and i was limping for an extended period of time that i was allowed to go to the doctor. My Dad was so mad when my mom called him from the clinic and told him there was a needle in my foot that requried surgical removal. He said I should have been more careful, I should lift my feet higher when i walk, and basically it was completely my fault i got hurt.
Additionally, while I was at the hospital one of the X-ray staff members had told me to have a seat in the wheel chair. At that point I was hopping on 1 foot.as the doctor had already sliced my foot open and dug around in there trying to find the needle unsuccessfully. I hopped over to the wheel chair and took a seat. Unfortunately, the staff member either got distracted or misjudged how close i was to the wheel chair because i landed right on the hard tile floor.
My parents were blaming me for that as well. I had very little control over my body at that point as they had cut my foot open and placed metal pins in it to help the doctor find the needle based on the proximity of the needle to the metal pins he had placed. So i could not put any weight it it at all on the foot without jabbing 4 more needles deep into my foot. Eventually the doctor realizef he would not find it and booked an actual surgical space for the next day. I was sent home with my sliced up foot until then.
The reason the needle ended up in my foot was because they were in the carpet. The reason they were in the carpet was because my oldest sibling decided to pop baloons with needles after my little sisters birthday party. I guess he dropped some needles after his popping fun and he didn't bother to pick the needles up. The carpet was berber carpet, so the needle was fully hidden in the carpet design. No way i could have seen it. Somehow he was not treated as though he did something wrong or stupid by leaving needles in the carpet. It was all on me.
Should i just forgive my sister? Am i being over the top by cutting her out of my life? I do talk to my dad because he doesnt push me to forgive her. I just have been ignoring my mom and my brother for the most part. I just feel like i cant focus on me when im pulled into their issues.
My sister has reached out multiple times, but it feels like too little too late. I deleted emails she sent. I just dont want to hear any of it. She emailed because she knows she is blocked on my phone and i do not do social media. She has sent gifts. My dad doesnt speak on it much, but apparently on mothers day my sister was sad because she does view me as her mother. She told him she has no mother now. I have been so loyal to all of them and it has never been returned. I just am not in a head space where i can care. I feel like everyone has a breaking point and that was my breaking point. Am i just extremely stubborn with this?
submitted by Lily618 to emotionalneglect [link] [comments]
2020.10.17 17:08 trevorstew Video moms hidden
So I know it is normally suggested not to trip two days in a row. I am aware of the factors such as exhaustion, tolerance, and overstimulation. On the other hand, i took about 3 grams yesterday. Was planning to do a heroic dose but ended up playing it safe. I mildly regret this.
Me and my girlfriend have been doing distance for a year and a half now, and she lives in Norway. Its has gotten hard to stay connected and we are currently taking space to try and figure out if we should continue to do distance and date, or if we should take a break and let each other live our lives (maybe meet up in the future). So for the first hour of my trip, it was me denying that this was bothering me, and then the mushroom dissolved my ego.
I ended up crying on the phone with my mom for a half hour or so, and I worked through alot of the emotions I was having( me and my mom are very close). None of this was bad vibes, but instead it was just me feeling the emotion of being in love and being caught in such a hard situation. At this point it didn't really feel like much was happening in terms of the mushrooms. Mild visuals and mild body and mental sensations. Then, after a good cry I went out to buy a burrito. The chicken I had was still frozen and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. This was when the mushrooms really started to take effect.
I smoked a joint on my way to the burrito shop, which is about a 5 minute walk from my apartment. I placed my order with realitve goofiness. Then, i had to walk through this back alley to wait for my order behind the building. At this point everything was like a movie. I was this hyperdimensional video game character who was on a quest to reach individuation and all this crazy stuff (this is a theme that comes to me frequently with my experience with psychedellics) I felt the what terrence mckenna and Aristotle refer to as "the logos" creating a narrative and playing tricks with reality like it tends to do. I really got a sense of what the mushrooms energy was like, and was having a mild dialouge with my higher self.
Overall I was just really aware that reality is some form of multidimensional simulation, and I was aware of my role (to collect information on the 3D space I was put in and to integrateit into my true being or some form of that). I also had a profound understanding that the mushrooms amplify the logos/high self/narrative. They bring this hidden frce to fruition. I had a small taste of it. And I wish I had taken the 5 grams to get the full mouthful.
Anyway, so im at the point today where I feel like i have worked through the situation with my girlfriend in my own head, and I am comfortable to where it will not create any obstacles like it did at the beginning of this trip. I am craving immersion in the psychedellic soup of the logos, and my realtivly fresh understanding of the psychedellic dimension from yesterday is giving me confidence to trip again today.
I was considering doing around 5-6 grams today.
Feedback would be much appreciated.
Thank thanks for reading if you did. This was a realtivly breif description of my experience, as these things are never easy to put into words.
Much love <3
submitted by trevorstew to shrooms [link] [comments]
2020.10.15 08:55 BillyManHansJr Hidden video moms
My name is Boston, and my favorite hobby is looking at obscure pieces of media. While others my age are busy playing sports or going to parties, I happily spend my 16 years of existence watching rare pieces of media. There's just something about it that always fascinated me. Watching something that probably hasn't seen the light of day in years, only a handful of people are even aware of it's existence, and I'm one of them. I assume this is what urban explorers must feel like going into an abandoned house or mall. Kinda like urban archeologist, forgive me if that sounds pretentious. It's important to me, is what I'm trying to say.
I'm an active user of ObscureMedia, it's one of my favorite subs. It amazes me what people could find with some digging and patience. I think it goes without saying that Youtube is a big place, you could watch video after video 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, for the rest of your life until the day you die, and you still would be barely breaking the surface of the labrynth that is YouTube.
Being a practically endless pit of videos, it's safe to say that not all of them reach the surface. Some stay hidden for years before someone happens to stumble upon them. Most of those videos don't get noticed by the YouTube bots or moderators, allowing them to get away with some heinous things. There are some videos that are better left forgotten about.
One day I was browsing the sub like normal. I watched a video of a long forgotten television show from the 90s that looked interesting, and I watched a video of public TV show host being harassed by prank callers which I found hilarious. I refreshed the page to see if there was anything new and there was.
There was a post about a video that looks like a kid show from the early 2000s called "Dixon's Laugh Factory". It looks like one of those TV shows that laugh at people falling over, kinda like America's Funniest Home Videos. It seemed harmless enough, but what struck me as odd was that the video wasn't really detailed. Usually the uploader includes a little summary so people know what they're watching, but this video didn't have any. It just had the title "Dixon's Laugh Factory." I have a friend called Dixon, maybe I'll show him the video. I checked the OPs account, which was just a bunched up mess of letters and numbers, it turns out that they've been on here for 6 years yet this was there only submission. No comments, no about section, nothing. I found that a bit odd but I didn't think anything of it.
I clicked on the video link, which lead me to a YouTube Kids Channel with the same name as the video. There were 5 videos in total that were 5 minutes long a piece. They were in order between one and five, so I clicked on the first one. A little intro tune came one, which went something like Bingo.
"Get Ready for DIXIE"
The intro music sounded like they were sung by a choir of children. The episode started on an anthropomorphic "Snowy Owl" who I believe is Dixon. I saw Snowy Owl in parentheses because it didn't really look like an owl. It kinda looked like Marlyin Manson with a black beak. The way his eyes looked were uncanny, just orange and veiny. They almost looked bloodshot, it was unsettling to look at. I think what made it worse was that it's just staring at the camera, not moving or blinking. It was just staring, I was wearing headphones so I could hear it breathing heavily. If I were a little kid and this came on I would piss myself.
Another thing I didn't like about the character was that it had long, greasy, black hair. It went down to his shoulders and looked wrong. I'm not a furry, but I'm pretty sure a fur suit has to at least look a little like the animal it's portraying. But the weirdest thing about it was that it was rather muscular. Like really muscular. And tall, the opening scene showed Dixon arriving on screen through a little hallway, but it had to bend down through the door frame to get in. Maybe it's the suit's design but why would an owl need to be tall and muscular?
After a minute of staring, Dixon finally spoke.
"Hello boys and girls, and welcome to the very first episode of Dixon's Laugh Factory. I'm Dixon, and I'm a Snowy Owl. I hope you're all ready to laugh because I have some videos I want to show that are guaranteed to knock your socks off!" Dixon said in the most monotone voice I've ever heard. I think he was supposed to act happy and excited because it was a kids show but it sounded like he was reading a god damn grocery list.
The owl man started the first video. It was about a woman in an electric wheel chair, the type fat people ride around in at Walmart. She was trying to go up an escalator with her wheelchair but she fell out. She was rolling down the escalator but it kept going up. I admit, it made me chuckle a bit.
The scene then cut back to Dixon and he was just staring at the camera. I guess this was the part where he gave his commentary but he just sat there. I guess he forgot the video ended, because he got back to the grove of the episode.
"I guess she'll learn to use the stairs next time, oh wait, she can't!"
Not gonna lie, that made me chuckle too.
The next video showed a toddler laying on a couch sleeping. A black and white cat was also on the couch laying next to the baby. I guess either the mom or the dad was recording. Suddenly the cat threw up on the baby's face, causing him to start crying a little bit.
Dixon came back and said his piece, giving the same icy stare to the camera like he did before.
"Jeez, someone change this kid before Grandma starts melting again, P U."
I was actually starting to like the show. I mean sure Dixon's jokes are a little corny and he's creepy to look at, but I can see why some might like it. I mean, if I were a kid when this show was on the air I would've probably watched it all the time. It has a charm to it that I can't explain. Sure it's crude, but that's what makes it special. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks like that because over 5 thousand people liked the video. Maybe the show still had a fanbase.
I continued with the rest of the video, but things started to take a turn for the worst. The third video Dixon showed was much different than the other two. This one was a live stream, it showed a black gentleman in the front seat of a car, he was looking out the window at someone or something out of frame. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
"So right now, I'm at a McDonalds, and I see a cop car in front of me with one person inside. I'm gonna kill these pigs today, watch."
Something about that rubbed me the wrong way. This didn't seem appropriate for a kids TV show. Now, I'm not the one who says what should be allowed and what shouldn't, as long as it's not illegal or hurting anyone it was fine with me, but even I thought that this wasn't ok.
I didn't like where this was going, but as cliche as it sounded I couldn't click away. I had to see what was going to happen next.
The camera man walked over to the cop car and knocked on the driver side window. The cop rolled down the window, the camera man began to speak again.
"Excuse me Officer, can you say Mr Midnight for me real quick please?" He asked.
"Mr Midnight." The cop replied confused.
"He's the reason why this is gonna happen to you right now." The camera man said, suddenly retrieving a gun from his waistband and shooting the cop in the head.
The camera man then ran back to his car and drove off. But before he did he talked to the phone one last time.
"I offer him as a sacrifice to you, Midnight. I hope you're pleased."
The video cut out, and it turned back to Dixon who was just smiling. He had that same look in his eyes, but he was smiling!
"I am." Is what he said before the video cut to black.
I was left there speechless. This had to be fake, no way was this real. This had to be some edgy art project. YouTube has some of the strictest moderators ever, this video would've been wiped the very second it was uploaded if it were real.
The video wasn't over, there was still one minute left. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to turn the video off, I guess I should've listened.
The last minute was a news story about a a murder, that was very similar to the video I just watched.
"Breaking news today as a Stockton Police Officer was gunned down in his patrol car at a McDonalds in a seemingly unprovoked attack. 34 year old Officer Thomas Jones was eating lunch at this McDonalds when he was suddenly shot and killed in cold blood. No one knows who killed him or why they did it, but the suspect is believed to be at large. Jones was expecting the birth of his daughter in just two days, but it looks like the child will grow up without a father."
The video ended after that, to the next video that came up was gameplay of some farming game I've never heard of. I closed the browser and just sat there in stunned silence.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
submitted by BillyManHansJr to scarystories [link] [comments]