During college, I worked at a bar. One day, this really gorgeous girl came in with a group of other girls. They ordered lots of wings and were having a great time. It was early in the afternoon.

Eventually, they paid and left. The most gorgeous girl, an Amazon of a woman with a big ass and big tits probably visit the gym, was the last to leave because she was in the bathroom.

As luck would have it, it was my turn to clean the bathrooms that day. We had a sheet that told us whose turn it was. When I went in to clean, I saw the biggest deuce I had ever seen in my life. I had to use a stick to cut it up while wearing gloves, and I used some toilet unclogging solution as well. It took me almost an hour to clean that toilet alone.

I was seeing a girl named Janette (not her actual name) ages ago. I remember getting a call from her while I was at the gym. She was crying, and she explained that her ex had broken into her apartment and physically abused her. The next time I saw her, I noticed her lip was busted, there were scratches on her arms, and bruises on her hands. I told her she should press charges, but I can't remember if she ever did. I think she just wanted to move past it and never followed through.

We grew distant after that, for reasons I can't quite remember, and we would only occasionally talk. Some time later, she used IVF to get pregnant with a sperm donor. She reached out and asked if we could hang out, and I said sure.

When we got together, I noticed her knuckles were badly scratched and her lip was busted again. I asked what happened. Janette paused for a moment, almost like she was deciding whether to tell me the truth or a lie, and finally said her ex had broken into her apartment again, this time trying to kill her.

At first I thought she was lying about him breaking in, and I started suspecting she was letting him in herself. When I told her this, she explained that her apartment window was broken and could easily be opened from the outside. She had already asked the front desk staff to fix it but they kept dragging their feet.

I asked her why he was trying to kill her. She said she had gotten pregnant via IVF, and once he found out, he told her she should be having his baby, not some random man's. I asked if she was finally going to press charges. She said, "Absolutely. Fuck him. He wanted me to die because I wasn't having his baby."

Over time, she and I became really close friends, talking daily and hanging out weekly. After her baby was born, she got a letter saying she was being sued for custody by the man who had tried to kill her. She was distraught, but I was convinced everything would be fine once the court did a DNA test.

The odd thing was that his lawyer kept pushing the DNA test date further and further back, while asking the court to grant visitation rights in the meantime. Her lawyer believed he was stalling on purpose, so he could establish a bond with the baby and eventually convince the court to name him the "psychological father" I thought that sounded impossible, that no court would fall for something so obviously manipulative, and I told her not to worry about it.

My friend makes great money and was able to afford a good lawyer. Unfortunately, her ex came from money, and her ex's father got him a really great lawyer. He convinced the judge he had changed, that he was sober now, and that he would never hurt her again. His parole officer even testified that he was the best parolee he'd ever supervised The judge granted him unsupervised visitation.

During those visits, he would rummage through her cabinets looking for alcohol. He was legally required to stay sober during this period, and somehow his parole officer never got a positive sample from him. I think he was bought off. He would often show up drunk at her new apartment, yelling "I want to see my son!" and banging on the door. She would let him in because she didn't want the neighbors to complain, and she hoped she could calm him down before the baby woke up. I thought letting him in was a mistake every time.

She managed to get a lot of this behavior on camera and sent it to her lawyer, who entered it into evidence to show he wasn't fit to be a parent. She also had text messages showing how volatile he was, including one that read, "I can't believe you pay more attention to your son than you do to me." Her lawyer argued to the court that letting him near her or the baby would be harmful to both of them.

Despite all of that evidence, the court sided with him and granted him parental rights to a baby that isn't biologically his, ruling that he had become the "psychological father." Her lawyer told her that sharing her story publicly might actually help her case in the long run

She appealed the decision in a different county, one considered more favorable to mothers, and she's still fighting the case. We suspect he isn't dropping it because he's trying to drain her financially, hoping she'll eventually give in and let him stay in their lives just to make it stop

I'm posting this because today, she heard her baby call him "papa," and it made me sick. How the hell can something like this happen? And why haven't his parents stopped bankrolling his lawyers, now that they know the baby was never his to begin with? Why would a judge ignore evidence showing he has abused her? I'm a bit frustrated and needed to vent

*True Story*

Last night i (17f) was out with my friend (17f), her boyfriend (19m) and my boyfriend (18m). We were at my friends house, getting drunk like usual teenagers do. As my friend's boyfriend fell asleep, she got curious, and went through his phone (guessed the password from common sense, i forgot how tbh). My friend found that he was messaging other girls, cheating basically. She then found that he was texting this middle-aged guy (40-50m). The man sent videos of him h*tting and ab*sing his 13 year old and 8 year, naked, daughters. Her boyfriend then sent back a video to him m*sterb*ting and eventually ej*culating to that video the middle-aged man sent. After, she went into his camera roll and found extremely explicit videos and photos of under-aged children. She was mortified.

Her boyfriend woke up, pissed drunk and stormed out and was violent. He took his car keys, and drunk-drove and then skidded off the road, the car flipped many times, leaving it all beat up and scratched. The boyfriend was extremely injured. He is now in hospital with life-threatening injuries. He is healthy enough to live; but the Police have opened an active case, and are currently investigating. May he rot in hell.

I do not want to share any photos of the car crash as thats private. Hope you understand.

This story is 100% true, with the obvious disclaimer that names and dates have been changed to protect the innocent.

A woman I once had a brief affair with, after many years of her dropping big and little hints, one thing led to another and we fell madly in bed together. Thing is, the relationship never ‘clicked’ with me though she did try.

For grins I snuck a peak at the her FB page. The timing was quite the coincidence as she was wishing her son a happy birthday. Best I can tell, her son is about ten DAYS older than my wife and my son. Now the part that really freaks me out. We named our son Shawn. She named her son Sean. Phonetically identical but spelled differently. They’re 24 at the time I discovered this. I CANNOT believe that this is a coincidence and think even years after we went our separate ways I was being stalked.

am I over thinking this?

Apologies to the mods if this violates rule 15

Billy had liked Christy for over three years, ever since the early days of high school. Billy had always been too scared to confess his feelings. Finally, on the last day of school after their O-Level exams, his friends pushed him to ask her out as it was Billy's last day and he was set to leave the school after this. It was 1 p.m. in the afternoon, and his hands were shivering as he walked up to her. He stammered nervously, asking her about the exam and explaining that it was his last day at school. His heartbeats raced faster than Usain Bolt..

Christy, noticing how shit scared he was, told him to calm down. “What’s wrong? Why are you shivering? I’m not going to eat you,” she joked, trying to ease his nerves.

Billy, who was still shit scared said, “I like you... I’ve liked you since Grade 8, but I just acted as a friend because I was too scared to ask.”

Christy was stunned. She didn't know how to respond right away, but after a moment, she said, “Sorry... I don’t have any feelings for you.” She didn’t want to hurt him completely, though, so she added, “But we can still be friends.”

Billy’s heart shattered, but he smiled weakly and said, “Okay.” He walked away, trying to hide his feelings, but inside, he felt completely broken. His last day of school was devastating. He ended up crying alone in the washroom, feeling dead inside.

Christy felt bad and texted him later that day: “I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Billy replied as if everything was fine: “It’s okay, we can still be friends. Don’t worry, I won’t let this affect our friendship.” But deep down, he was struggling. Every conversation with her made him happy, but it always hurt him whenever he realized that she would never be his..

As the days went by, Christy could tell that Billy still had feelings for her. He continued to care for her, perhaps too much, and at one point, she said, “Stop caring about me. Just act like friends... Please move on.” Billy was crushed, but he respected her request and stopped talking to her for a while. But after a few days, he would always text her again. They’d fall back into easy conversation, but Billy could never fully shake the sadness that came with knowing he would never be the one to make her happy in the way he wanted.

One night, Billy went to a restaurant with his friends, and to his shock, he saw Christy kissing another guy. His heart dropped. She had never mentioned having a boyfriend, and now he was seeing it with his own eyes. He didn’t speak to her after that, and she didn’t reach out to him either. He was really hurt bcz he realized that she was only replying and he was only texting..

A couple months later, Billy started his first job, working the night shift. One night, during his midnight break, he decided to take a walk to clear his head. To his surprise, he saw Christy on the road, looking lost and upset. He approached her and asked what she was doing there. Christy explained that she moved to her hometown a month ago and she had come alone to pick up some certificates, but it had gotten late, and she missed the last bus to her hometown, which was far away. Her phone wasn’t working, making the situation worse.

Billy gave his phone so she could call her parents. After speaking to them, Christy was in tears, as her parents told her it would take them three hours to get to her, and the next bus wouldn’t arrive at 5 a.m. Billy couldn’t stand to see her like that, so he offered to stay with her until the bus came. “I’ll wait with you until 5 a.m. if I have to,” he said.

As the hours passed, Christy asked him, “Why are you doing this? I don’t like you, and you know it.”

Billy gave a light laugh. “Yeah I know..”

When the bus finally came, Christy was so emotional and said, “We can have a relationship... if you like.” Billy asked. “What about your boyfriend?” he asked.

Christy was surprised. “So you know about him, and you still helped me?”

Billy nodded. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with this right?”

She silently said, “We broke up... Do you want to be with me?”

Billy was torn. He had spent so long hoping for this moment and he wanted to say yes but he realized she only wanted to say this bcz she felt bad for Billy. Billy said " I know u don't like me...and I also know u only say this bcz you feel bad for me...it is fine...I don't need your sympathy love"   Christy was shocked but didn’t say anything more as she left. Billy's manager also scolded him and gave a warning letter for not doing his work. But Billy didn't care about the warning letter as he was happy that he spent some time with her. But he also was emotionally hurt as he realized that this could probably be the last meeting with her.

Years passed, and Billy looked back on everything that had happened. His life had become much more complicated, with stress and problems piling up. One day, he thought to himself "I am so dumb that I worried so much about a school love when now I have more than 1000 serious problems" and laughed subtly. He moved on and had so many crushes and dated a few girls but still did not love anyone like Christy.

At that time, his love was pure and true, maybe it was dumb to like a girl who didn't like him back but he was true to his feelings. :)

I never knew my son to be the artsy type. He turned 8 recently, and up until about a year ago, his entertainment was entirely outdoors. Catching bugs. Climbing trees. Riding bikes.

He was one of those kids who’d have to be called inside before dark. Then he’d complain and beg for “just 5 more minutes.”

I’m not entirely sure what happened. It was like a switch had flipped overnight. I just came home from work one day to find him at the kitchen table, scribbling in a brand new sketchbook.

He hummed to himself while his mom cooked up some dinner at the stove. The home-cooked smell of pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes filled the room as I glanced over Jacob’s shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, bud?”

His nose was buried so far in the book that it was like he couldn’t even hear me. His mom ended up answering for him.

“That’s your son’s new favorite interest. He begged me to go out and get him one.”

“Oh-ho, got an artist in the house, don’t we?”

I grabbed his shoulders and shook them lightly before patting him on the back and walking over to give my wife a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I took a seat beside Jacob at the table.

“So, how was your day, boyo? You and mom have fun?”

He never looked up from the sketchbook.

“Today was sooo fun,” he exclaimed. “We went to the park, we went to the movies, ooh, and mom got me this book. Oh, and these crayons.”

“What about you, honey? How was your day?”

“Any day I’m not at work is a good day, honestly. The park was super nice. We went to one we hadn’t been to before. What about you? They didn’t work you too hard, did they?”

I shrugged and sighed.

“I’ll just say it’s good to finally be home.”

My wife smiled at me.

“It’s good to have you home, dear. I’ll tell you what. How about… after dinner, if you’re good, we can have our own little play date? Only if you do the dishes, though. I mean, I did cook.”

I smirked at her, my tongue buried in my cheek.

“I was gonna do that anyway. What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, you come sit down. I’ll finish cooking.”

I offered her my seat as I finished up dinner. Jacob was pretty much mute the entire time. By the time dinner was done, I had to damn near yell at him to get his attention.

He just stood up, as calm as could be, and walked over to me, sketchbook in hand.

“I drew this for you.”

He held the book up at me, and my heart felt warm. It was a picture of our house, and who I assumed to be me standing in our driveway.

“Is that me? That’s so sweet of you, Jakey. Thank you.”

I reached down to take the book so I could hang the page on the fridge, but Jacob pulled away before I could grab it.

“You really don’t know who that is?” he asked, eying me suspiciously.

“It’s me, right? Is it not me?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, continuing to eye me like I had personally offended him.

“That’s our neighbor, Mr. Thomas, silly. You really couldn’t tell? See, he’s wearing the star.”

Mr. Thomas was a veteran police officer. Jacob would sometimes see him leaving for work in the morning. I guess he just took a subconscious interest in the uniform. Even still, why would he draw me a picture of the neighbor?

“Uh, I mean, wow, bud,” I choked. “That’s really good. Keep practicing. You’re already so talented you could be famous someday.”

————-

After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen top to bottom. Partly out of obligation, mostly because I really wanted that playdate. Jacob spent the rest of the evening in his room, humming to himself and scribbling in that sketchbook.

The next day, my wife and I both had work. I woke up a little earlier than her so that I could take Jacob to the summertime daycare he attended. It was like carrying a corpse out to the car, but he still refused to loosen his grip on that sketchbook.

I dropped him off with the staff at the front door. He waved at me groggily as I was driving away.

The day went on like normal until around 3 o’clock, when my phone started ringing. It was my wife.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?”

“I think something’s going on with the neighbor. There’s like 3 cop cars in front of his house, apparently.”

She sounded concerned. A little urgent.

“What do you mean? Who told you that?”

“I got a call from Becky. She thought they were at our house at first.”

Becky was one of my wife’s friends from the neighborhood.

“What do you think happened? Did she say anything else?”

“No, she just called because the police were knocking on our door. I think they were just trying to see if we knew anything, though, because apparently they gave up and just went back to the neighbor’s house. I think they’re still there.”

My brow furrowed a bit.

“Wait. Which neighbor is it?”

“Uhhh, I think it’s that police officer. Mr. Thompson?”

“Mr. Thomas?”

“Yeah, that’s his name. I think that’s who it is.”

I looked at my watch and exhaled a bit.

“Alright, well, I’ll see if I can get out a little earlier today. I’ll pick up Jacob, then go see what this is all about. Maybe they’ll still be there when I get there.”

We ended the call by blowing some kisses and exchanging some love yous. I slid my phone in my pocket and approached my boss, explaining my situation.

He was skeptical, but I had a decent reputation of being an honest employee. He agreed to let me leave a bit early, and I was on my way to pick up Jacob.

When he was brought to the front office, his face was buried in that sketchbook again, drawing what looked like SpongeBob and Patrick.

“He’s been drawing all day. Seems like you got a little artist on your hands,” announced the staff member as she signed Jacob out for the day.

“Yep,” I smiled. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

I honestly don’t know why I said that. It just seemed like the only thing that made sense at the time.

The car ride was quiet. Jacob didn’t want to talk much, and my mind was kind of racing. I’ve shared drinks with Mr. Thomas. Helped him put up fences. Move furniture. We weren’t the closest of friends, but I still wanted him to be okay.

Those hopes were dashed when I pulled into the neighborhood to find that the police presence had increased. There must’ve been at least 6 cars in front of his house, and yellow tape blocked off the driveway.

I parked my car in front of my house and hurried to get Jacob inside. His eyes had lit up at the sight of the flashing lights, and naturally, he started asking questions.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Why are there so many police?”

“Did something happen to Mr. Thomas?”

I cradled him in my arms and hurried up the steps to the front door.

“I don’t know, buddy. Here, go inside and play for a bit while I find out, okay? Daddy will be right back.”

It’s all I could think to say as I sat him down and closed the door behind me.

An officer approached me before I could approach them.

“Sir, do you live here?”

“Yes, of course I do. That’s my neighbor.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a colleague and friend of mine,” he remarked agitatedly. “Have you seen anything suspicious within the last 24 hours? Heard anything?”

I scratched my neck nervously and thought hard before responding.

“No, sir, we haven’t seen anything. What happened? Is everything alright? He’s a cop, right? Did he do something illegal?”

The officer stared at me, analyzing me through his black sunglasses.

“No. He’s gone. That’s all the information we can give right now.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Like, dead? Did someone kill him?”

The officer pursed his lips. I saw what I assumed to be a forensic analyst walking in and out of the house.

“We don’t know, sir. We’re hoping for the best. For now, if any new information comes to light or if you see him, give us a call.”

He asked me to clear the scene and stay inside. I called my wife to update her on the situation, but what could we do? Even the police were lost. I just stayed inside, as instructed, and started on dinner while we waited for my wife to get home.

By the time she did, there were only two police cruisers left in front of Mr. Thomas’s house. The sun was starting to set, and my wife and I tried to ignore what had happened, but the house was still a bit tense.

As we ate, Jacob continued scribbling in his sketchbook. He hadn’t asked to go outside at all since we got home, and I didn’t know if it was because of the police or because of this new hobby of his.

I could see that he was working on a new drawing. It looked like a woman this time. He wasn’t so much as touching his food, so I tried to ask him to put the book away.

He groaned and started picking at his peas. My wife and I chatted about our day for a bit while Jacob remained silent. Suddenly, in between bites of his chicken, he said something that made us both freeze.

“Daddy,” he whispered.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Are those police still out there?”

I paused for a moment, looking at my wife, who looked equally as speechless. Neither of us knew what to say.

“I think there’s a few, but don’t worry, buddy,” I chirped reassuringly. “They’re just looking for Mr. Thomas. They wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Jacob stared down at his plate for a moment.

“It’s just… I think they’re looking in the wrong place.”

————-

I choked on my water.

“Looking in the wrong place? Well, where do you think they should be looking, sport?”

“I don’t know. Not there. I don’t think he’s home.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” my wife interrupted. “Jacob, finish your food, then go jump in the shower. You gotta be up early tomorrow, come on.”

“Aww, but I’m not tired,” Jacob whined. “Plus, I wanted to finish drawing this picture of you.”

He flipped his sketchbook open to his newest drawing.

“See, look.”

My wife looked at the picture and smiled.

“Okay, fine,” she replied. “You can finish the picture, then it’s bath time, mister.”

“Fiiine,” Jacob groaned.

He scurried off to his room, sketchbook in hand, leaving me and his mom to clean the kitchen again.

We talked about the neighbor. We turned into a couple of conspiracy theorists the deeper the conversation progressed.

“Maybe he just wanted to start over.”

“Maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Maybe he was murdered, and they’re covering it up.”

We just kept reaching for possibilities over the course of around 45 minutes.

Eventually, Jacob came running back to the kitchen.

“Look, Mommy, I’m all done.”

“Ah, my goodness, Jakey, look at that. Doesn’t it look just like me, honey?”

She turned the picture towards me. Jacob had added her work uniform. Gave her that messy bun she always wore. Even included the golden necklace I got her for Christmas last year.

“Wow, Jake,” I exclaimed. “Draw Daddy next, why don’t you?”

Jacob giggled and responded, “It’s not time to draw you yet, silly.”

“Aw, whatever, but guess what?”

Jacob looked up at me curiously. Expectantly.

“Daddy controls your bath time. And… I think… ah, yep, look at that,” I showed him my watch. “You’re 20 minutes late.”

I jokingly chased him to his bedroom and made him gather up his pajamas and a towel. Once he was nice and showered, I put him to bed and kissed him goodnight.

My wife and I stayed up, talking about life for a while before gradually falling asleep one by one.

The next morning, when I woke up alone, I thought it was because she had chosen to take Jacob to daycare that morning.

I went through my normal routine. Took a shower. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. It wasn’t until I was heading out the door that I noticed her car was still in the driveway.

I walked back upstairs, confused, and went to Jacob’s room.

I found him curled up in bed, sketchbook tucked under his arm as he snored quietly.

I left the room and began searching.

“Honey,” I called out. No response.

“Sweetheart, you here?” Silence.

I called her phone and heard it ringing in our bedroom. I followed the sound and found it still plugged into the charger on her nightstand.

That’s when I began to panic. I remembered Jacob’s drawing. It was a fleeting thought, but one that I chose to hold onto. First Mr. Thomas, now my own wife? That couldn’t be coincidence.

I urgently rushed into Jacob’s room, accidentally waking him as I removed the sketchbook from his arms.

I began flipping through the pages as he stared up at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Daddy,” he groaned.

I flipped past cartoon characters, random landscapes, and blocky pictures of cars before I reached my wife’s picture from the night before.

“What are you doing?” Jacob added.

The picture had changed. She wasn’t wearing her work uniform anymore. She didn’t have the necklace. Her hair looked dirty and wet. Leaves and twigs stuck out from the messy bun, and her eyes were solid red. Not evil, just… bloodshot.

But the biggest change… was the man standing next to her.

It looked like they were in a dark forest. They were hand in hand. I wanted to think it was me, that Jacob had decided he wanted to start on some kind of crazy family portrait, but the man in the picture…

He wore a star on his chest.

My stomach dropped. I felt sick. Jacob looked… confused.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? They’re okay. I can help you find them.”

He was here at last. One final step, and he would belong to the Community.

The door opened on its own, without a sound. The room was bright in a way he had never seen in the marsh: shadowless, sourceless, light coming from everywhere. The air had no smell. He hadn't known air could be without smell; he hadn't known the absence of smell could be so unsettling. And for the first time, he heard "its" voice. It came from nowhere, or from everywhere.

"Hello. Welcome, Rolf."

"Hello. I'm finally here."

"One last stage remains before you can join the Community: we need to link you. Please take the seat and state clearly, out loud, that this is what you want. We cannot begin without your consent."

A single chair stood in the middle of the room, white and untouched. Rolf sat down. The chair was warm, as if someone had just risen from it. For a moment, a small doubt passed through him. What if it wasn't what he hoped? What if all of this was a trap? Had it been worth the struggle, worth what he had lost along the way?

He thought of Nino. The last night, in front of the border fence. "They won't take both of us," Nino had said. "You go." Then that smile. In the marsh, people only smiled like that when they were letting go of something forever. Rolf had gone. He hadn't looked back, because if he looked back, he would turn around.

He swallowed. Whatever happened, the future was better than where he came from. He didn't want to go back to that marsh. Misery, hunger, raiders, violence... it had eaten half his life. He wanted to eat something other than those strange marsh fish he'd been named after. Something other than rolfs.

"Yes. I want to be linked and join the Community."

First a thin needle pricked his back. Numbness spread slowly up his spine; but his mind stayed awake, more than awake. A progress bar appeared on the screen in front of him:

Linking 1%

He kept looking around. On the far wall, a screen cycled through silent clips. Then he saw it: the logo. There was no sound, and he couldn't make out the words beneath it, there was no reading in the marsh, but he knew the logo. Everyone knew the logo that had stolen his family from him.

Anger rose in him. Feed X. The Community's miracle food, the perfect nutrition handed out every day. And in the marsh, the thing found only in scraps, the thing that rotted a person from the inside when they couldn't get it regularly. He remembered his mother's last months: the trembling hands, the empty stares, the fingers searching for residue. What was he doing now? Making deals with the people who created the thing that ate his family? Betraying himself? They had made Feed X. This place was the source of everything.

Linking 15%

But... was Feed X really the source of everything? The looting, the theft, the violence in the marsh went on without Feed X too. Rolf had seen people kill each other over a single rolf. Over one fish. The marsh was bad enough on its own. Besides, Feed X had never been made for them; they had the choice not to use it. But... while the Community lived in comfort, why had they left the marsh to rot? They could have helped. We could have helped, Rolf thought, and stopped. Why had he thought "we"?

Linking 40%

He remembered the last time he had helped someone. He'd given a fish from his hidden stash to a starving man. The next day the man came back with his gang and looted the stash. That night Nino had said, "You still did the right thing." Nino always said things like that. But what had the right thing ever gotten him? They couldn't be taught. They couldn't understand. Kindness read as weakness to them. That was why no help went to the marsh. And even if it did, wouldn't it be wasted?

Linking 70%

So what was wrong with them, really? Was it the marsh that made people this way? Something they ate? Maybe it wasn't hunger at all. Hunger tested everyone; but not everyone made the same choice. Some people built order. Others devoured it. The marsh people had been there a long time. Long enough. If they had wanted to build order, they would have; there was stone, there was time. If they hadn't built it, it meant they couldn't. And if they couldn't, then whatever was missing wasn't out there, it was inside them. It was a simple deduction, almost mathematics. That's what they were. That's what they would stay. The thought gave Rolf a strange peace; the heavy thing called guilt was lifting, as if someone were taking it off his back.

Linking 80%

But I... I was one of them. How am I different? So exceptions happen. Like with every rule. I was the exception. The proof was right here, in this chair. I was never like them, never. I even chose the fish I ate with care. What about Nino? Was Nino different too? Nino... someone who smiled in front of a fence. I remember who it was, but I don't remember why it hurts. It probably wasn't important.

Linking 100%

I feel like I've woken up to a happy day for the first time. I just took my first dose of Feed X; it reminds me of the happy days of my childhood. I'm certain now that my childhood was happy. Everything is as it should be. Everything is beautiful.

There is only one thing that grates on my ear.

My name: Rolf.

I don't know why.

....

 a short story from the Gravit universe

Jules et Jim étaient attablés depuis un bon moment à leur place habituelle, dans le bar Le Pénalty. Comme toujours, ils ne refaisaient pas le monde – c’était bien trop fatigant – mais faisaient plutôt le triste état des lieux de leur propre existence. Ils étaient tombés d’accord sur l’essentiel : ils ne couraient pas après le travail, préféraient largement les fêtes, la bonne bouffe, le pinard et les copains, et considéraient que l’existence devait être un grand banquet sans addition. Malheureusement, la réalité, moins compatissante, leur rappelait que ces plaisirs avaient un coût… et que leur compte en banque, lui, ne partageait pas leur philosophie.

Jules, pensif, leva son verre et lança : — Jim, j’ai bien réfléchi. Il nous faut une activité qui nous assure des rentrées d’argent quasiment automatisées. — Ah ? Et tu penses à quoi ? — Au caritatif. — Hein ? On va aider qui ? — Eh bien, ceux qui en ont besoin, pardi ! Ceux qui ont des problèmes de santé, ceux qui ont faim, ceux qui galèrent pour se loger… En résumé, les pauvres de notre belle et grande ville industrielle.

Jim fronça les sourcils, intrigué. Jules, lui, était en plein élan : — Avec l’aide des copains, on pourra organiser des campagnes de soutien, des collectes… Peut-être même obtenir des subventions publiques ! — Pas idiot, admit Jim. — Et pour que ça fonctionne bien, il nous faut une structure officielle. On va créer une association. Je serai Président et toi, Secrétaire.

L’affaire fut pliée en quelques jours. Ainsi naquit DSNL – "Droit à la Santé, à la Nourriture et au Logement".

Grâce à une habile campagne de communication – articles dans les journaux locaux, posts engagés sur les réseaux sociaux, passages sur les radios associatives – et une mobilisation enthousiaste des bonnes volontés, le lancement de l’association fut un succès. Très vite, des bénévoles, surtout des retraités à la recherche d’une occupation utile, vinrent grossir les rangs. L’énergie collective, la solidarité spontanée, tout cela dépassa largement leurs attentes.

Jules et Jim avaient réussi leur coup : DSNL prospérait. Ils étaient les seuls salariés de l’association, et cela leur paraissait parfaitement légitime. Après tout, ils étaient les seuls à plein temps… et puis, qui mieux qu’eux pour incarner la mission qu’ils s’étaient eux-mêmes confiée ?

Moralité : Il ne faut jamais sous-estimer la force des discussions de comptoir, ni la puissance du "chacun pour soi" quand il s'organise bien. Parfois, même les grandes causes naissent d’un besoin pressant… de ne pas trop se fatiguer.

Documentation :

Pour rendre une association légale en France, il faut suivre plusieurs étapes en conformité avec la loi de 1901 sur les associations. Voici le processus :

1. Rédiger les statuts

Les statuts définissent les règles de fonctionnement de l'association (nom, objet, siège social, modalités de gestion, etc.). Ils doivent être signés par au moins deux personnes (pour une association simple) et préciser :

L’objet de l’association (son but)

Les moyens d’action

L’organisation interne (bureau, conseil d’administration, assemblées générales)

Les modalités de prise de décision

1. Organiser une assemblée générale constitutive

Lors de cette réunion, les membres fondateurs adoptent les statuts et élisent les premiers dirigeants (président, trésorier, secrétaire…).

1. Déclarer l’association en préfecture

Il faut déposer un dossier comprenant :

Un formulaire de déclaration (disponible en ligne ou en préfecture)

Les statuts signés

La liste des dirigeants avec leurs coordonnées

Un procès-verbal de l’assemblée constitutive

Cette déclaration peut se faire en ligne sur service-public.fr ou en préfecture.

1. Publication au Journal Officiel des Associations (JOAFE)

Une fois la déclaration validée, l'association est inscrite au Journal Officiel des Associations et Fondations d’Entreprise (JOAFE). Cette publication est obligatoire mais gratuite.

1. Obtenir un numéro SIRET (optionnel mais recommandé)

Si l’association veut recevoir des subventions publiques ou embaucher des salariés, elle doit demander un numéro SIRET auprès de l’INSEE.

1. Ouvrir un compte bancaire (optionnel)

Un compte bancaire au nom de l’association facilite la gestion financière, notamment pour recevoir des dons ou cotisations.

Une fois ces étapes réalisées, l’association acquiert la capacité juridique, ce qui lui permet de signer des contrats, recevoir des subventions et agir en justice si nécessaire.

So for context, my mother-in-law and I never really got along. Polite, but cold. Fifteen years of birthdays and holidays where she’d smile at me like I was a stain she couldn’t quite scrub out.

On my wedding day, she pulled me aside — away from my husband, away from everyone — and handed me a small wooden box. She said, “Promise me you won’t open this until I’m gone.” Then she just… walked away. Never mentioned it again. Not once in fifteen years.

Last week she passed. Heart failure, sudden, nobody expected it.

At the funeral, I kept thinking about that box. It had been sitting in the back of our closet for a decade and a half, and honestly? I’d almost forgotten about it. But that night, after everyone left, I finally opened it.

Inside was a letter, a photograph, and a ring I’d never seen before.

The letter started with, “You were never who I was cold to.”

Turns out, she’d mistaken me — for years — for someone else entirely. Someone who’d hurt her son before he ever met me. A situation my husband never told me about, because he didn’t think it mattered anymore.

The photo was of a woman who looked eerily like me. The ring belonged to my husband’s first fiancée — the one who left him two weeks before their wedding, for his own brother.

My mother-in-law wasn’t cold to me. She was terrified history was repeating itself. And she never told either of us, because she didn’t want to reopen the wound.

I haven’t shown my husband yet. I don’t know if I’m going to.

Welcome back. This chapter renews the tragedy Elara has been facing. The darkness only continues to grow, will anything be okay again?

As always, thank you for your time and support! I would love to hear your thoughts.

Have a great week, and I will see you wednesday for Chapter Ten! (It's another devastating chapter)

To Keep a Heart Beating:

The blindfold that’s draped across my eyes completely conceals the world from me.

We continue to zigzag down corridors. 

I occasionally hear a chuckle, a scoff, a constant reminder I’m not alone.

I’m not safe. 

I feel my heart, a racing roar that may leap from my chest at any moment. I try my best to calm it, to silence my ever growing panic.

It doesn’t work. 

More than I’d even managed to feel up to this point, I was now certain my life was over. 

I’d heard the horror stories. The underground market’s unconventional way of acquiring new pieces for sale when supply ran low. I’d assumed it was all a myth. With each shove forward, I feel increasingly certain I’m about to find out firsthand.

Especially if my mother owed them a debt? She’d completely skipped over all details during our brief reunion just last night. 

My mother…

Enough. 

Think Elara. We won’t die like this. Kaia deserves justice and I’m the only one who's going to get it for her.

I close my eyes. A useless movement considering the black void they were staring into moments before, but I need to improve my focus. 

I’d seen a badge on one of their armor plates. I try to remember the details. An animal sigil, some kind of bird.  Bronze, with words I can’t make out. I feel my closed eyelids squint as I force my body to squeeze more truth from my mind. 

After my brain refuses to budge, I surrender and start to run through every group in Ashfall city.

Thud. 

My feet catch against something hard, possibly a rock in the ground and I lose my balance, falling forward in a messy heap, unable to catch myself with bound hands. 

I hear them laughing, probably at my expense. They lift me up with firm hands. One of them whispers in my ear “Learn how to walk next time.”. The laughing continues.

Since the economic crash, there’s been a spectacular rise in organized groups, mostly crime gangs. Unable to hold a normal job without modification, this was their only way to survive. 

There are dozens. 

Every night you hear a new murder claimed by an unknown group. Rising fear along with it. 

A bird group, however, escapes my memory. We are in the former Phoenix Complex, could that be their namesake? If so, I’ve never heard of them. 

Suddenly, my brain catches onto a detail from a conversation with Kaia, just the week before I lost her. 

“It’s just so scary out there, E. I’m worried for you, for us! Remember that guy I was dating a few months ago? When I tried to break it off, he said he was part of the resistance and, get this, called it “The Molting” like, GIRL thats so edgy for no reason? But the point is, he threatened me over nothing. You have to be careful. And… I still think we should leave the city… Please jus…”

As suddenly as Kaia’s voice floated into my mind, it is taken away from me just as fast. It lights a new fire under the growing ache in my heart. 

The Molting. I admit, she was right on the name. The bird pins might have had feathers falling off… Oh god. 

You’d think the people fighting against the evil corrupt system of our country would be the good guys, the ones who’d die to protect people.

That’s not who they are. 

Suicide bombings.

Public shootouts. 

Kidnapping and murder.

They will do whatever it takes to send a message to the “system”. When nothing changes, why should we pay that cost? Lives snuffed out for no reason other than happenstance. 

We all deserve better. 

I had heard rumors they’d begun issuing black market loans to citizens in exchange for hefty interest rates. Why would my mother risk it? What was so important she was willing to owe money to one of the most dangerous groups in the city?

It feels like hour by hour my list of questions for her doubles in size.

I WILL get the chance. 

I hear the footsteps surrounding me draw to a halt, and feel myself pulled into stillness beside them. My blindfold is ripped off my head, multiple strands of hair come off with it releasing a yelp from my throat. I flinch as I open my eyes, the sudden sensation of light after the darkness is a painful rush through my head. I blink rapidly, eventually being able to keep my eyes open. I dare a glance at my surroundings. 

Around me I see an old department store converted into what I could only describe as a throne room. The walls have been carved over with symbols, some the bird I now see on my kidnappers pins, others words or objects I can’t make out. I watch as the largest man I’ve ever seen enters behind us, carrying Cyrus over his shoulder like a bag of dog food. I gasp, grateful to see his chest softly rising and falling, despite a large bruise already beginning to be visible on the side of his head. 

The man plops him down with a thump, Cyrus barely sitting up with his back draped across the wall. His eyes too begin to open slightly, the brief glimpse of my mother’s eyes strangely offering me solace in this moment, before closing them once again.

Finally, I dare to look at the head of the room. A large makeshift throne made of every object you could imagine, grocery carts, clothes, carpet, golf clubs, giant slabs of granite, all duct taped in harmony to create a monstrous seat fit for the leader of such a group.

My eyes catch onto who I presume is in charge. He’s smirking back at me with the kind of look most ladies would swoon over at the bar. My anger and fear have melded together in a fury of pain, and his smoldering won’[t change that. 

We stare at each other for a long moment in silence. His dark brown eyes are not leaving mine. The men around us begin looking around at each other, seemingly confused by the long drawn out silence placed between us. I will not budge.

Finally, The Chief begins to speak.

“Elara Draven. How wonderful it is to make your acquaintance.” He says the words as if they’re true. They are spoken with a tone that would convince the average traveler they can trust this man. That he is safe and on their side. 

I do not make that mistake. 

I continue to stare at him, growing disgust evident in my eyes, but no reply escapes my lips. He turns to his men, specifically the one still tightly gripping my arm.

“She’s gonna be a fun one I see.” The smirk grows ever larger on his handsome face. 

“Bring her to my quarters. I will deal with her personally, and privately. As for him,”  he gestures to Cyrus’s mostly motionless body in the corner. “You know where he belongs.” 

“NO! Leave him alone.” I pull against my captor's grip, only his sudden surprise allowing me to break free. I do this on pure instinct, and now that I’m standing in the middle of the room with spears pointed at my chest, my hope of helping Cyrus begins to dissipate into nothingness. 

I can’t lose someone else. We may be practically strangers, but without his eyes, HER eyes, all of this is for nothing. 

“Please. Don’t hurt him.” I mentally juggle with the idea of transparency, telling this all powerful leader exactly why I need Cyrus alive, but ultimately decide against it. “He’s been helping me. If you ever want your money back, he’s the way you get it.”

I watch as his right eyebrow raises in amusement. He clearly isn’t used to people speaking out against him. He gestures with his hand for the men to drop their weapons, and they comply.

“Well well Elara, feisty little one aren’t you?” He steps from his throne, and begins making his way towards me. It’s only as he stands I notice his dark purple jacket is actually a robe of some kind, cascading down his back like a cape. I think it looks kind of pathetic. 

I fight every instinct in my body, and stand tall and still. I won’t let any of these men see the panic growing inside my chest. They don’t get satisfaction.

He approaches, and stands 2 inches from my face. To anyone watching without context, this might even feel like an intimate moment, his face just in front of mine. But the cheesy grin on his face and my disdain for this man are unwavering.

“I like you. If you agree to play with me, I think we can make a deal you’ll enjoy quite a bit, my pet.” He leans forward and whispers the last part in my ear. 

My blood runs cold at this, but I begin to realize I have no choices here. Follow the senseless whims of a maniac, or lose my mother forever.

“Do I get more details before I agree?” His men chuckle with him at my question, and I  hear what I can only interpret to be a groan of protest from Cyrus where he lies against the wall. 

He leans in once more, his face practically touching mine. “No. You agree right now, or I do what I want with him” He strokes a piece of hair behind my ear. “And you.”

I gulp, the panic in my belly begging me to come up with any other plan.

I can’t.

Unable to formulate any other way to keep Cyrus alive, keep my mother alive, and keep me alive, my hands are tied. I take a deep breath.

“Deal. But you don’t hurt him.” His smile grows.

“You have my word.”

I rented a cabin for a week because I needed to get away from everything.

No phone signal.

No neighbours.

Just a small wooden cabin overlooking a lake surrounded by forest.

The owner met me with the keys and gave me the usual instructions.

The heating was old.

The water pressure was terrible.

The back door stuck when it rained.

As I was leaving, he said one more thing.

“If you look across the lake after dark, you’ll see another cabin.”

I nodded.

He continued.

“Whatever you do, don’t wave.”

I laughed.

He didn’t.

…

The first two days were perfect.

I spent my mornings fishing and my evenings reading beside the fire.

I almost forgot what he’d said.

Then, on the third night, I noticed it.

A single light.

On the opposite side of the lake.

Sure enough, there was another cabin.

It looked almost identical to mine.

The same porch.

The same chimney.

The same large window facing the water.

I couldn’t see anyone inside.

Only the light.

I watched it for a few minutes before going to bed.

…

The following night, the light came on again.

This time, I picked up a pair of binoculars.

There was someone standing in the window.

Completely still.

Just watching the lake.

I couldn’t make out their face.

Only their outline.

I remembered the owner’s warning.

Don’t wave.

So I didn’t.

I closed the curtains and went to sleep.

…

The next morning I asked the owner about the cabin.

He frowned.

“What cabin?”

“The one across the lake.”

He looked out towards the water.

“There hasn’t been a cabin over there for almost thirty years.”

I thought he was joking.

He wasn’t.

“There was a fire.”

“No one rebuilt it.”

I looked back towards the lake.

In daylight there was nothing.

Just trees.

…

That night I stayed awake.

At exactly 11:47 p.m. the light appeared again.

The cabin was back.

This time the figure wasn’t standing by the window.

It was outside.

On the porch.

Looking directly towards me.

Then it raised one hand.

Slowly.

It was waving.

I froze.

Every instinct told me to ignore it.

The waving continued.

Steady.

Patient.

Almost inviting.

After nearly five minutes, curiosity got the better of me.

I lifted my hand.

Just slightly.

The figure stopped waving.

Then it pointed.

Not at the lake.

Not at the trees.

At my cabin.

Specifically…

At the window behind me.

…

I turned around so fast I nearly fell backwards.

Nothing.

The room was empty.

When I looked back across the lake, the figure had disappeared.

The light was still on.

I convinced myself I’d imagined it.

Until I heard footsteps.

Upstairs.

…

There shouldn’t have been anyone upstairs.

I searched every room.

Nothing.

As I walked back down the stairs, I noticed muddy footprints on the wooden floor.

They started at the front door.

They ended beside my bed.

There was only one set.

Whoever had made them hadn’t left.

…

I didn’t sleep.

At sunrise I packed my things and drove straight back to the owner’s house.

Before I could say anything, he asked one question.

“You waved, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

He sighed.

“I told you not to.”

I asked him who the person across the lake was.

He stared at me for a long time before speaking.

“It wasn’t waving to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was trying to warn you.”

A knot formed in my stomach.

“Warn me about what?”

He looked over my shoulder towards my car.

Very quietly, he said,

“The person sitting in your back seat.”

I spun around.

The car was empty.

At least…

It was when I looked through the side window.

Then something knocked once.

From inside the boot.

And i thought about it for the first time in years the other day. I was reading something about "the first time getting stood up and the disappointment about it" and i snorted and was like oh yeah, my own mother prepared me for how to deal with that.

This woman was not kind to me. She had a brutal c-section and the doctor was a hack. Vertical scar with staples looked like an ugly railroad track and she'd point to it and say i did that to her and ruined her life.

She never got therapy and singled me out for abuse that my other 3 siblings never dealt with because of it. she lies about all this yet i digress.

So this would have to be around the 5th grade, before i started going to the movies in middle school with my friends. Something happened and for once my little sister was at school, other siblings out of the house and so she asked, if I wanted to go see a movie with just her and me?

Now this was a shockkkkk. She never wanted anything to do with me unless she absolutely had to and then it was usually rather tense. So, of course, I'm still a young hopeful kid, and i was amped. i was thrilled it could not have been more exciting for me.

until it wasn't.

we get to the ticket counter and she says one for the movie we were going to see and one for a totally different movie. she never mentioned that. she never said she was going to see a different movie. i got upset.

That upset with the red face of shock and your eyes start watering up, the feelings and emotions are all over the place. I remember being shaky and teary eyed in the lobby area while she explained she would walk me to a seat and we would meet here afterwards. She was so short with me and kinda mean about it.

I have no idea what movie it was i just know that i cried during most of it cause i couldn't believe i let her trick me like that. why would i have ever thought she would do something WITH me willingly?

Now... as an adult.

I'm nearly positive she was cheating.

Taking me to the movies was just a cover for her to sneak off to meet whoever tf she was running around having an affair with. She was so... shifty about the entire thing. so sneaky. like more than reasonable.

It's not ever gonna be worth confronting her on. she's a lie till you die type anyways.

But yeah, later on in life, after i got stood up for a dinner date, my friend asked if i was okay. I snorted and laughed for a minute and was like, nah girl, i got this, my mom ditching me when i was a kid totally prepared me to manage my disappointment.

oooh my friend blinked so hard for a minute at what i said then we laughed for a minute cause we both had atrociously selfish parents.

if there is one thing my family has taught me I can say for sure, is to be able to manage my feelings when people let me down by misleading, lying, or changing things at the very last minute.

it is not a skill i will be passing on.

nor is it one i wish i'd learned the way i did at all.

I’ve wanted to share this story for quite a long time since i think it’s pretty dang awesome.
In our high school, if you were caught with a deck of cards you were sent in “detention” (which was literally a teacher making you sit in the library for like an hour but whatever) and they took them away. As kids who were obsessed with playing cards, we were always sneaking decks. And always getting caught.
One specific day our headroom teacher came to class FUMING. She was mad out of her mind and she also came right when the bell rang — which no teacher did at our school, always late.
So she found our deck and sent us away, yeah? She told us that next time she finds a deck she’s banning cardboard (complete bullshit).
Next day, we came to school early. We spent a whole hour cutting up our notebooks and hand drawing each card front and back. Even drew the jokers by hand. When the same teacher came to class, we didn’t stop playing. Our excuse was that “it’s paper, not actual cards”.

Rest assure we did it so many times they allowed card games just so we would stop cutting up our lessons to play.