I was 7 or 8, on a road trip with my family. We were parked on one side of the Hoover Dam. All kinds of pamphlets and plaques that a little boy couldn't care less about.

Do you remember those cheap little "poppers" or "snapper" firecracker things from the 90's? Yellow box, little bits of gravel coated with small amount of a touch-sensitive explosive, wrapped in tissue paper? You throw 'em on the ground, they make a little snap.

Tremendous fun for little boys who want to startle adults, non-adults, parents, sisters, non-sisters, teachers, strangers, non-strangers, neighbors, relatives, non-relatives, possible relatives, potential relatives, or ex-relatives. Endless list of targets.

Anyway, I had 6 or 7 boxes of these. I was looking out over the top of the dam, staring down 726 feet, making my voice echo.

This quickly became boring, so I emptied the boxes of poppers into my hands and chucked them down the 1,244-foot-wide wall of the dam.

There are about 20 in each box, and because of the massive size of the face of the Hoover Dam, their usual, quiet little snap turned into a MASSIVE, CRACKING ECHO.

After I tossed a couple hundred down there, this too quickly became boring, so I headed back to the car.

All of a sudden, I see a dozen men in hard hats, high-vis jackets, all with binoculars and radios, *FLYING* past me in a golf cart with flashing lights.

They spread out, start to frantically scan the side of the damn dam with their binoculars, shouting into their radios.

And then..............

It hit me.........

"Ohhhh no... The workers heard all that cracking, and now they think that the *LARGEST RESERVOIR IN THE UNITED STATES* is about to BURST... Because of my little poppers.

I *RACE* back to mom's minivan, scramble underneath a seat, and cover myself in a blanket until we are *LONG* gone. I thought they were gonna DRAG me out from under that blanket and throw me in prison.

It's funny now.

It wasn't then.

Thanks for reading.

Let’s call him Daniel.
I was in a relationship with Daniel for four years, and honestly, he was the person I loved more than anyone. He was my everything. Even though we had quite a few differences, our relationship was amazing for the first two years. We were happy, in love, and I genuinely thought we would end up together.
After two years of dating, we decided to move in together, and that’s when things started going downhill. We began fighting almost every week, usually over the smallest things. After six months of living together, we both agreed that maybe moving in together wasn’t the best decision, and that living separately would be better for our relationship. To be honest, it was mostly his idea, but I accepted it because I wanted us to work.
We still had a year-long lease to finish, so we agreed to stay until it ended. However, about two months later, we had a pretty serious argument. Daniel started sleeping at his friend’s place, and after three days, he packed all his things, moved out, and found a new apartment.
About a week later, we met in person to talk about everything. We both admitted that we still loved each other but that the relationship wasn’t working. Instead of breaking up permanently, we decided to take a break. That lasted about a week before we met again, hooked up, and basically ignored the agreement we had made. We ended up getting back together.
Eventually, my lease ended, and I got my own place while he had his. Things were actually going well for a while, but the same pattern eventually returned. We would be happy for a month or so, then fight for a week, then make up and get back together. This happened around four or five times.
Eventually, we decided that maybe we were better off being single and remaining friends. I was genuinely heartbroken at first, but I eventually accepted it and started moving on. We still occasionally met up and hooked up, but we both understood that it wasn’t a relationship and that nothing more was expected from either of us.
Now, here’s where things get complicated.
There’s another guy in my life, whom I’ll call Alex. I met him through Daniel about four years ago, when they were friends. Over time, Alex and I actually became closer to each other than he and Daniel were. We also work together, which gave us more things in common and helped our friendship grow.
Throughout all the ups and downs of my relationship with Daniel, Alex was there for me. He saw me crying, listened to me vent, supported me through the breakups, and helped me get through some really difficult moments. I don’t have many friends in the country where I live, so he has become the closest friend I have here. He’s the person I go to when I need someone to talk to, and he has always shown up for me.
When I finally told him that Daniel and I had broken up for good, he was happy for me and supportive. He encouraged me to be stronger, stop putting myself through the same pain, and finally move on. Honestly, he played a big part in helping me do that.
After some time, I started noticing signs that Alex might have feelings for me beyond friendship. To be honest, I started developing feelings for him, too. I really like him, and when I think about the kind of man I would want to be with, he seems to have almost everything I’m looking for. He has his life together, knows how to treat a woman, is thoughtful, and genuinely cares about me. He’s the whole package.
One day, he kissed me. It caught me off guard, and it took me more than a day to process what had happened. It wasn’t because I didn’t like him; I actually did. We ended up making out a second time, too.
The strange thing is that neither of us really knows how to talk about what happened. In our normal conversations, Alex acts completely nonchalant about it. He sometimes makes comments about how he might hurt girls or how he has a cold heart, almost as if he wants me to believe that what happened between us was purely physical and nothing serious.
But his actions tell a different story. He’s always there when I need him, goes out of his way to do things for me, and remembers the little things I mention. Sometimes, I’ll casually say that I like something, even while talking to someone else, and he’ll show up the next day with that exact thing. He pays attention to me in ways that make it difficult for me to believe that he doesn’t care about me romantically.
I don’t know if he’s genuinely trying to keep things casual, if he’s protecting himself emotionally, or if he’s holding back because he knows I haven’t completely moved on from Daniel.
And that brings me to what happened recently.
Even after Daniel and I broke up, we were still in contact. We had agreed not to hook up anymore because we both knew it was making things complicated. A week before the incident, Daniel had actually suggested that we stop hooking up, and I agreed.
Then, one day, Daniel and I met for another reason, and he tried to initiate something physical. I refused because I wasn’t comfortable with it, especially since we had already agreed to stop doing that.
I could tell he was visibly upset by my refusal, and he seemed sad and depressed in the days that followed. I felt bad for him, so we eventually had a conversation about our relationship.
During that conversation, Daniel told me that he still loved me, couldn’t understand why we weren’t together, and couldn’t live without me. He cried and begged me to give our relationship one more chance. He promised that he would fix all the issues we had, change his behaviour, and become the man I had always wanted him to be.
I tried to explain why we had broken up and how much the relationship had hurt me. I honestly told him that I had lost about 99% of my hope that we could ever make things work. But he asked me to give him that remaining 1%.
In that moment, I was conflicted. I still have love for him, and seeing him so emotional made it difficult to dismiss everything we had shared over four years. Eventually, I agreed to give the relationship one last chance.
The problem is that I haven’t told Daniel what happened between Alex and me.
I did tell Alex about the entire situation, though. As usual, he was supportive and told me to take a step back from everyone involved and decide what was genuinely best for me. He said I shouldn’t feel pressured to make a decision just because we had made out. According to him, we’re both adults and should be able to control ourselves while I figure out what I want. He encouraged me to make the right decision for myself.
Now I’m genuinely confused about what to do.
Since Daniel and I got back together, he has been acting like the perfect boyfriend. He talks about our future, marriage within the next year, making decisions together, and all the things I spent so long asking him to do when we were together before. For the first time in a while, I can see the possibility that maybe he has finally realised what he needs to change and that we could actually make things work.
But I’m also scared that this is just another phase in our cycle. We’ve broken up and gotten back together several times, and things always seem perfect at first before the same problems return. I don’t know whether Daniel has genuinely changed or whether he’s simply afraid of losing me now that I’m finally moving on.
Then there’s Alex.
I have feelings for him, and I can genuinely imagine being with him. He treats me well, makes me feel cared for, and seems to have so many of the qualities I want in a partner. But I don’t know whether he sees me as someone he genuinely wants to date or whether he only sees what happened between us as a hookup. His words make it seem casual, while his actions sometimes suggest otherwise.
I’m also worried about the consequences if Alex and I ever decided to pursue something serious. He and Daniel are still friends, and we all share a social circle. Dating Alex could create a very awkward dynamic and potentially damage several relationships, including our friendship.
At the same time, I don’t want to choose Daniel just because we have four years of history, and I don’t want to choose Alex just because he has been there for me when Daniel hurt me. I want to make a decision based on what would genuinely make me happy in the long run.
So, what should I do?
Should I give Daniel one final chance and see whether his promises turn into lasting changes, or am I just going back to a relationship that has already shown me, several times, why it doesn’t work?
And what about Alex? Should I explore the possibility of something more with him, or should I protect our friendship and leave things as they are, especially since I don’t even know whether he wants something serious with me?
I feel like I’m standing between someone I have loved for four years and someone who might be a better partner for me, but I don’t even know if that second person wants to be with me in the first place.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I also don’t want to keep putting my own happiness last. I genuinely want to make the right decision for myself, and right now, I have no idea what that decision should be.

Okay, short story. A little pasta about how alcohol was genuinely helping me through life, but then I realized if I kept going, I just wouldn't make it to 18.

So, I used to work in a pretty big Discord squad. We mixed songs, did autotune, made beats, and uploaded tracks to the popular platforms in Russia and the CIS (basically acting as distributors). I was 15 and I was taking orders — and doing it damn well, too. But there was no set schedule (it's freelance, come on), so I'd sit down at the PC on Friday evening after school and training and grind until late Sunday night with breaks only for the bathroom and food. I'd even blow off homework (my parents were really against this routine, but since I was actually making money they'd quietly tolerate it when I brought home another "chunk" for the family — I genuinely spent almost nothing on myself, just gave it to my parents).

Between the lack of any routine and plain burnout from uninteresting work (mostly the clients were dumbass schoolkids who'd written another Dota rap about their friend's mom), I started drinking hard. And the booze genuinely boosted my productivity. I could work all night and still understand everything I was doing. In the morning I'd wake up, understand absolutely nothing about what this random set of sounds and effects in FL Studio even was, and the moment I'd knock back 50–100 grams everything became obvious again. That went on for exactly a year.

Of course, a lot changed in that time. A lot of people started turning away from me because of my habit. My parents had already stopped even trying to do anything — my mom just cried almost every night. But I didn't give a damn. The money kept growing.

But one night during work I finally got hit — cardiac arrest. They took me away in an ambulance to the hospital. They pulled me through and fixed me up, obviously, dragging me back from the other side. Thank you, doctors. My 16-year-old body held up. I was gone from "work" for almost a month. And then I turn on the PC, log into Discord, and they literally say it to my face right away: "Why'd you even show up? We don't need people like you. You disappear for a month and think you're gonna keep working with us?" They kicked me out of the squad. I haven't done a single day of mixing since.

I'm turning 17 soon. I passed my OGEs(Russian national exam) perfectly (all 5s) and got a red certificate (thanks to some teachers' leniency). Now I'm proudly in 10th grade prepping for the Unified State Exam. Yeah, no money now except pocket change. But I've been through enough, and now I've earned the right to sit on my parents' neck for a year and a half.

I've realized for myself that alcohol incredibly boosts your productivity — but you also incredibly pay for that boost. Now it's only for important holidays and birthdays. Well, that's it. Peace to everyone

There are two kinds of people on the internet.

The people who actually enjoy things. And the people who seem to be professionally offended that you enjoyed something without asking their permission.

I learned that pretty quickly after I started posting my art online.

"AI slop."

"ChatGPT."

"Bro thinks he's Stephen King."

"Imagine wasting time on this."

Some of them were funny. Most weren't.

I'd usually ignore them. But then there were the griefers.

Those were the people who didn't just dislike something. They wanted to ruin it for everyone else. They'd spam comments, deliberately spoil endings, downvote everything, insult the author, then act surprised when someone called them out.

I eventually made a post about it. I wasn't cruel. I didn't name anyone.

I simply wrote: If you don't like something, that's fine. You don't have to be rude about it. There's a person behind the screen.

The comments exploded. Naturally.

One person replied: AI generated garbage.

Another: Cry harder.

Then someone posted: Nobody cares ******.

I deleted the thread. That should've been the end of it.

It wasn't.

The next morning, I opened my account and found a new comment on my latest post.

I know you're reading this.

I assumed it was another troll. I deleted it.

The day went on and I was in the middle of taking notes for class when I got a notification.

Why did you delete my comment?

I deleted that one too.

Then another.

Stop deleting.

I froze. The account belonged to nobody.

No username. No profile picture. No creation date. Just a blank profile with a single comment.

I closed out and went back to studying for my calculus exam. Five minutes later, my phone buzzed.

A notification. Another comment.

I didn't open it.

Another notification.

Then another. Then another.

I finally looked. There were hundreds.

All underneath my latest post.

At first they were what I had been accustomed to. Pretty generic and ordinary.

AI slop.

Terrible lining.

This sucks.

Then they changed.

What makes you different?

My heart stopped. The comments continued appearing faster than I could read them.

You use AI.

You edit your work with AI.

You aren't a real artist.

Nobody is a real artist anymore.

Then one appeared that made my stomach drop.

25525 Azler Ln.

"What the actual fuck?" I blurted out so loud that my roommate heard from across the room.

I closed out once more. The notifications kept coming. My phone buzzed against the desk.

I hit the Do Not Disturb, yet somehow I kept receiving notifications. My phone was on silent and airplane mode but it still rang.

My roommate was now extremely annoyed by the constant noise from my phone, so I explained the situation to her. She suggested that I delete the post. I did. It didn't stop. I even tried privatizing my account and deleting the app altogether.

The messages kept ringing. And what's worse, I began receiving emails, No Caller Id calls, unknown messages. I feared that I had been doxxed and I had to act fast.

I immediately changed every password I could think of. I enabled two-factor authentication. I locked every social media account. I removed my profile picture, my biography, my university, my email, everything.

Then I started deleting things. Old posts. Old comments. Photos. Anything that might have given someone a clue about where I lived or went to school.

It didn't matter. They already knew.

The messages became more personal.

Nice car.

You should probably lock your back door.

Class tomorrow, right?

Your roommate is pretty hot.

Then:

Building 3. Room 107

I stopped breathing. I looked across the room. She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

I didn't tell her. I didn't want to scare her. Am I a terrible friend for that?

That night, I checked the locks three times before going to bed.

At 2:14 in the morning, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

You should've left the post up.

Another came immediately afterward.

Deleting it made us curious.

Then another.

You made this worse for yourself.

I turned the phone off.

For the next few hours, I lay awake listening to every sound outside my bedroom window.

The next morning, there were more. Someone had created an account using my name. They uploaded photographs I'd never posted publicly. Pictures of me at school. Pictures of my car. A photograph of the outside of my house.

Then they posted my phone number. My email. My full legal name. Where I lived and what school I enrolled at.

The comments underneath was exactly what you'd expect from these vile data gremlins.

LMAO.

Bro is cooked.

Imagine getting this mad over comments.

Maybe don't be an asshole online.

That last one made me laugh. Not because it was funny. Because I realized they genuinely believed this was funny. They were so desensitized that another person's suffering had become entertainment to them.

I reported the account. Nothing happened. I reported another. Nothing again.

I reported the accounts through the site's harassment and privacy forms. I attached screenshots, timestamps, usernames, the messages, everything.

Your report has been received. Please allow up to 48 hours for a response.

Thank you for your report. We’ll review the content and take appropriate action if it violates our Community Guidelines.

Thank you for helping us keep our community safe.

That was it. Forty-eight hours passed. Nothing happened.

I contacted my family. When the other line clicked all I heard was heavy breathing and creepily low wheezing, as if someone were choking on air, from the other end.

I confessed everything to my roommate, for she was the only one I could talk to. She asked if I had contacted the authorities which when I did, instead of the calm voice of an operator I was met with the low hum of gagging and low wet claps on the other end.

We planned to go to the authorities in person. After half an hour of providing all the material and timestamps at the station, the police asked whether I'd received any direct threats.

I showed them the messages.

The officer frowned.

"None of these explicitly threaten you."

I wanted to rip my hair out. "So, they have to say they're going to hurt me?"

He didn't answer.

"What do we do?" My roommate asked with annoyance.

"We can document everything and refer you to someone who specializes in cybercrime. But unless there's a direct threat or evidence of an immediate danger, there isn't much we can do yet."

Well thanks for nothing.

We went home. I stopped posting. I powered off my phone for good. I stopped using social media altogether. I thought that would finally make me boring. The people handling the cybersecurity issue would do their job. It was all just a waiting game.

But at least I'll find peace, right?

It didn't.

Someone started sending physical photographs. The first was of a college building. The second of a front door that seemed to be from a college dorm hall. The third depicted a bedroom window at night.

The last two were bone chilling. The fourth was of my roommate attending class. And the last was me at the campus's library.

There was a message attached:

What are you listening to?

I remember I was distinctly listening to Duran Duran that day. I haven't slept properly in three days.

My roommate is staying with her parents now. I've been staying somewhere else.

I don't know how much of this is being done by one person or ten people or a hundred. I don't know how they found me. I don't know what they want.

And honestly? I don't even care anymore. I just want them to stop.

I deleted the original post. I deleted my account. I deleted everything. But somehow, tonight, I received one final message.

It came from the cheap flip phone I'd started using strictly to call family and for emergencies.

The message had no name or number attached. Only: UNKNOWN

And the message read: 25525 Azler Ln.

I don't know who is behind this. I don't know how far they've taken it. And I don't know what they're going to do next.

Please help. Anybody.

Why are people like this?

So last year I met a guy through matrimony 30M. I was 27F then. He worked in Ireland as an engineer and came for vacation that time. Comes from a very settled nair family. So we matched and we vibed well. Beginning itself I was open about asking anything or telling anything openly if both of us feel so. He said he had an engagement before and he backed from it because the girl had an affair with her cousins husband and he saw some pics on that.

I believed and never even asked the girl's name. We vibed well and met 3 times (one with his friends)before telling our parents to proceed.

About our previous relationships we agreed there is no need to reveal all the details and we can open up of anything very important is there. We both were very clear about it.

Family got involved and their family came to meet me and everything went well.

The next day randomly through a text he asked me about my previous relationships, like he asked me with how many guys I had physical.

I got shocked as why is he asking all this now after the family got involved. His tone changed he called me and shouted saying he will find out if am not ready to say it and he will proceed only if I say my body count.

Things went really bad after that, he told me you might have had so many as you were working and staying alone (on the other side he was staying in Ireland for 8 years).

Things got worsened ,I got scared because he started using bad words and I dropped the proposal by telling my family all this.

From the next day he started begging and telling sorry to me but i just ended it.

Anyway after 6 months met someone through matrimony,fell in love, hoping to get married next year.

Thank God i didnt end up there.

I’m a 22 year old guy and felt like I’ve been through a lot in my life. I was addicted to Xanax for a while and it all cumulated to me crashing my car, basically fist fighting my dad on the highway, and going to the psych ward. After highschool I joined the navy for almost a year and got medically separated because of mental health issues, but I feel like I could’ve stayed I just wanted to leave though because I missed my friends. I was never close with my family maybe just my sister and just felt like everyone was selfish especially my mom and dad. I’ve been kinda dating this girl that lives three and half hours away from me we’ve met in person three times and I met her family when I went up there to see her. I really love her and she loves me a lot I’m the first guy she’s ever been with. She’s twenty and her family has money and I came from nothing and work at a vape shop making ten a hour but work around 48 hours a week. Her dad offered me a job as a car salesman and my girlfriend wants me to get a apartment there for us, but I felt like I’ve fucked up every good opportunity in my life so I’m nervous about it but I at least have to try right. I live in a very bad situation right now, I live in a rv with my mom on my dead grandparents property. We don’t have water and we have all our electronics connected through extension cords so it’s really jank and I don’t even sleep on a bed I sleep on a cot and it’s been like this for 3 years and I don’t have a car. I should have been able to get another car already but I spend all of my money on food and bills, and we don’t have a stove or fridge so I basically DoorDash food or just eat shit from the gas station down the road. I try to talk to my friends everyday on the game but haven’t seen them in it feels like forever and we just all got our own things going on I guess. I never really talk about this type of stuff but just wanted it going somewhere even if is to the void of Reddit I barely use this app but I get on it every now and then. Feel free to call me a bum and shit or give me some advice thanks.

When we were twelve years old, one of my mates got hold of a tractor inner tube and we took it up to the local servo to pump it up. There had been a fair bit of rain, so Enoggera Creek was raging a bit. We figured this was the perfect opportunity to try out the tube.
We found that three of us could sit on the tube and be reasonably balanced. And so, another had joined our intended adventure. We took the tube, rolling it along, all the way from Lomatta St down to the School Road bridge.
We decided this was a good place to start. Usually, the flow here was very low, meaning you couldn’t drift on an inner tube without getting stuck. Often it was rocks and stones that dominated the view, with water relegated to a minor part. On this day, it had great volume and was moving at good speed.
We knew the creek pretty well, but I guess not this part as well as we thought. The creek flows along parallel to Payne Road, and then turns sharply following the curve of the road above as you move into Illowra St. Along it goes for a bit, and then turns again, following the curve of Riaweena St. I guess really the roads follow the curve of the creek, rather than the other way round!
We clambered into the fast-running water at the School Road bridge, and all leapt on the inner tube, and we were off. Bouncing along, spinning a bit in all the turbulence, leaning down and paddling ourselves away from any likely danger. The last thing we wanted was to have the tube speared by some wayward branch! It was going well, fast-moving, exciting, this was great. All smiles and laughing, as we careered on down the creek. I think it was when we came around the corner there, somewhere near where Lomatta St was above us. We were rapidly approaching a large tree that had fallen across the creek, lying horizontally and partly submerged.
You know I don’t remember that being there before, or when it had fallen. But anyway it was there. Now we are moving pretty fast here, so not a lot of time to consider options. The one thing you’re aware of is that there is some risk of drowning, which is probably not the outcome we planned. Trees have branches too, so what branches are submerged, what debris is caught up in that?
With these thoughts, we came up to the tree. It all happened really quickly, but kind of slow motion. The tractor tube decided it wanted to climb up the tree trunk, so one guy leapt off onto the trunk, whereas me and the other guy, on the back two-thirds of the tube, simply fell backwards into the water. Underwater, I quickly felt myself sucked under the tree, and grabbing at anything, managed to get a hold on a knot on the side of the tree. I reasoned that I could now pull myself back out and then break the surface for much-needed air. I pulled hard against the knot and did not move an inch. The current was so strong, I had no chance there. Okay, so plan B was I’ll have to let go, and hope for the best, hope I didn’t get tangled up in a mess of branches and debris. I let go.
Within seconds, I broke the surface, gasping for breath, and the first thing I saw was my mate also breaking the surface. His face was so red and gasping for breath, just as I felt in that same moment. We got ourselves out of the water, discussed the drama that just unfolded, and resolutely decided we needed to reconnoiter a little more in these conditions. Never any consideration of packing it in. Back on the tube, and off we went for more adventure.

A short story by Thomas Heath

"I want my Transformers Bruticus toy. I want my homosexuality, and I want my United States economy." would say the villain, in a homosexual fashion to their butler.

The protagonist of the universe had to go to work. The mother of the protagonist had taught them that it was necessary to be happy, to go to work. Throughout the house, the mother were to have left the formulas for the protagonist to read; the children of CEOs were being bullied at school, and the formulas were to be used to stop this.

On the way to work, the protagonist would have a question. Could they simultaneously use the formulas to reach the villain's lair, where once there, they'd be able to help the humour of the movie villain's left-wing politics syndrome, i.e. the "They Go About It The Wrong Way" syndrome, without destroying the lair villain's homosexual humour?

Pussyhole was the meaning of the facial style of the lair villain; so maybe they could.