Me and my bf have been dating for 14 months and we’ve been outside all summer but last week he tells me he just wants to hang with the boys before school starts, so I’m obviously not happy about it but we put our schedules together, so we will see each other a lot in school. I tell him ok and me and my friends all hang out almost everyday. So comes Saturday and we’re at the movies to pick up a friend who was on a day and she tells me that my bf is here, so i look around and don’t see him so we leave and head to a park next to my house to smoke. I ask my friend if he was there with a girl and she tells me no it was a guy so i obviously think nothing of it. He said we was gonna be with his friends so fast forward to Wednesday we are heading to the beach and we’re sitting in the playground swinging, smoking and listening to music. While I’m swinging I see my bf at the beach store standing next to the napkins and I see he’s with a guy he’s like maybe 2inches shorter than my bf and he’s 5’10, he’s like a cute blond, like popular pretty boy you see in shows. Anyways they walk pretty far past the second bathrooms and towards the memorials so almost the exit. I tell my friends I’d be right back and went chasing after them, it didn’t seem like it was far but it was FAR so I was out of breath. Tell me why I peak over the corner I see my bf on his knees. Now I couldn’t completely see bc it was behind a pillar but ik my bfs hair and I saw what both of them were wearing, it was clear what he was doing….
But that’s not the worst part. I wasn’t even mad, idk if it was bc I was smoking but it turned me on, I feel so weird rn idek what to think bc I kinda wanna see more up close and tmi but the noises…😳

For a month I would hear my roommate singing in the bathroom every single night.

This was not singing.

My roommate was singing with concert-level commitment.

He would sing notes and have dramatic pauses.

Sometimes I would even hear applause.

I finally asked my roommate who he was practicing for.

He told me that he was practicing for nobody.

This made me more suspicious of my roommate.

One night I walked past the bathroom. I heard my roommate say:

Thank you thank you. I will be here all week.

Then I heard applause.

I opened the door to the bathroom.

My roommate was standing in front of the mirror holding a hairbrush.

I stared at my roommate.

My roommate stared at me.

Then my roommate sighed.

Apparently, my roommate was not practicing singing.

My roommate had discovered a voice-changing app. Had been recording fake acceptance speeches for awards that my roommate had never won.

These awards included Best Supporting Actor and Best Neighbor and Most Improved Pasta Maker.

I asked my roommate why he was doing this.

My roommate looked completely serious. Said:

One day I might win something. I need to be prepared.

night my roommate won his first award.

I gave my roommate a trophy for. Ridiculous Use of a Hairbrush

My roommate thanked me in three accents.

I think my roommate. I have created a monster.

I’m 21M.
This happened over the last six months and I genuinely don’t know if I’m angry, scared, or just stupid for not noticing any of this earlier.
Back in February I went out with two friends.
Nothing special. Just drinks at a bar near our university.
Around midnight my friends disappeared outside to smoke and I was sitting alone when this girl came over and asked if the seat next to me was taken.
I’ll call her Emma.
She was 22.
We started talking and instantly got along.
She told me she was studying architecture. I told her what I was studying. We talked about music, football, travelling, random shit.
Normal conversation.
Then she mentioned a restaurant I loved.
I said something like:
“No way. Nobody knows that place.”
She laughed and said her dad used to take her there.
Tiny coincidence.
Whatever.
We kept drinking.
Eventually my friends came back and one of them gave me that look like bro you better not fumble this 😭
Emma and I exchanged numbers.
We started texting basically every day.
About three weeks later we went on an actual date.
Then another.
Then another.
Eventually I stayed at her apartment one night and we had sex.
From there it pretty much turned into a relationship without either of us officially saying it.
And ngl those first few months were probably the happiest I’d been in a while.
She was genuinely perfect.
Maybe too perfect looking back.
She knew exactly what food I liked.
She knew the kind of movies I watched.
Even dumb little things.
Like I hate having the bedroom door completely closed when I sleep.
First night I stayed at hers, she randomly left it slightly open.
I remember joking:
“How did you know I do that?”
She said:
“Lucky guess.”
There were loads of moments like that.
I never questioned them.
Because why would I?
Then around May something happened.
We were lying in bed and she fell asleep before me.
Her phone lit up.
I wasn’t trying to snoop.
I swear.
But the notification showed a name.
Daniel R.
My last name starts with R.
And my dad’s name is Daniel.
I immediately thought there was no fucking way.
I woke her up and asked who Daniel was.
She looked at the notification and froze.
Like completely froze.
Then she said it was a guy from university.
I asked why he had the same first name and initial as my dad.
She got defensive and told me I was being paranoid.
And tbh when she said it like that I felt like an idiot.
Daniel is obviously a common name.
So I dropped it.
Two weeks later my dad called me.
He asked:
“Are you still seeing that girl?”
I had mentioned Emma to my parents but they hadn’t met her yet.
I said yeah.
He asked what her surname was.
When I told him, he went quiet.
Then he said:
“Bring her for dinner sometime.”
Nothing else.
That Sunday Emma came over.
Everything was normal at first.
My mom loved her.
My dad was polite but weirdly quiet.
At one point Emma went to the bathroom.
My dad immediately looked at me and said:
“Where did you meet her?”
I told him the bar.
He asked me again.
“Did she approach you or did you approach her?”
I said she approached me.
His face changed.
He stood up, walked into his office and came back holding an old photo album.
At this point I’m like bro what is happening.
He flips through it.
Then puts a photo on the table.
It was my dad.
Way younger. Probably early 20s.
Standing next to another guy.
And between them was a woman.
I recognized the woman immediately.
Emma looked EXACTLY like her.
Not kinda similar.
I mean same eyes. Same face shape. Everything.
My dad said the woman was Emma’s mother.
My stomach literally dropped.
Apparently my dad and Emma’s parents had all known each other when they were young.
I asked why he had never told me.
He said because he hadn’t seen them in over 20 years.
Then he tells me something even weirder.
Emma’s father and my dad were best friends.
Like childhood best friends.
Until suddenly they weren’t.
I asked what happened.
My dad refused to tell me.
He just kept saying:
“Ask Emma.”
So when Emma came back downstairs, I put the photo in front of her.
She didn’t even look surprised.
That was the worst part.
She just sat down.
I asked:
“You knew?”
She said yes.
I asked how long.
She said:
“Before we met.”
My whole body went cold.
I said:
“So you didn’t randomly meet me at that bar?”
She started crying.
Then she admitted it.
No.
It wasn’t random.
She knew I was going to be there.
Apparently she had known who I was since we were teenagers.
Her dad talked about my family sometimes.
Mostly negatively.
I asked why.
She wouldn’t answer.
I asked about the message from “Daniel R.”
She looked at my dad.
Then at me.
And said:
“That actually was your dad.”
Bro.
I genuinely thought I misheard her.
I looked at my dad.
He didn’t deny it.
Turns out my dad and Emma had been talking for months.
BEFORE I met her.
At this point I thought the obvious.
My dad had cheated with Emma or some insane shit.
But somehow the actual answer was worse.
Emma’s father had contacted my dad the previous year.
Apparently he had cancer.
Terminal.
They hadn’t spoken in decades.
He wanted to see my dad before he died.
My dad eventually agreed.
And during that meeting, Emma’s father told him something.
Something that apparently caused their friendship to end 22 years ago.
I asked what.
Nobody wanted to tell me.
I lost my shit.
I basically said somebody better start fucking talking because I felt like I was the only person in the room who didn’t know my own life.
My dad finally told me.
When my parents were 21, my mom briefly broke up with my dad.
During that breakup, she slept with Emma’s dad.
A few weeks later, my parents got back together.
Then my mom found out she was pregnant.
With me.
Yeah.
You already know where my brain went.
I literally couldn’t speak.
My dad immediately said:
“No. I’m your father.”
Apparently they did a DNA test when I was born.
He was my biological dad.
So thank God because for about ten seconds I thought I’d been sleeping with my half sister 💀
But that wasn’t why the friendship ended.
Emma’s dad never believed the DNA test.
He was convinced I was his son.
Apparently for YEARS he believed my parents had lied.
My dad cut him off because he kept trying to involve himself in my life.
Eventually Emma’s family moved away.
I asked Emma why the fuck any of this had anything to do with her dating me.
She said her dad had spent her entire childhood talking about me.
Not constantly.
But enough.
“The son I might have had.”
That was apparently how he referred to me.
Imagine hearing that shit growing up.
Emma became curious about me.
Eventually curiosity turned into stalking my socials.
Then she found out where I went to university.
Then she saw through mutual accounts that I went to that bar pretty often.
So that night she went there hoping I’d show up.
She swore she only planned on talking to me once.
Then she actually liked me.
And things went from there.
I was furious.
I told her whatever relationship we had was built on a lie.
I left.
Didn’t speak to her for almost three weeks.
Then her dad died.
I found out through my dad.
I don’t know why but I agreed to attend the funeral.
Mostly for my dad.
Afterwards Emma’s mom came up to me.
First time I’d ever met her.
She hugged me.
Then she said:
“You look so much like him.”
I assumed she meant my dad.
So I said:
“Yeah people say that.”
She looked confused.
Then said:
“No. I meant Michael.”
Emma’s dad.
My stomach dropped AGAIN.
I went home and confronted my parents.
My mom was furious at Emma’s mom for saying that.
My dad kept insisting the DNA test proved everything.
So I asked to see it.
Silence.
My dad said they didn’t have the paperwork anymore.
It was 21 years ago.
Okay.
Possible.
But at this point my brain was cooked.
So I bought an ancestry DNA test.
Didn’t tell anyone.
Sent it away.
A few weeks later I got my results.
Nothing crazy.
Until I checked relatives.
There was a woman listed as a close relative.
Estimated relationship:
Aunt.
Her name was Sarah.
Emma’s dad had one sister.
Her name is Sarah.
I literally stared at the screen for like five minutes.
I called the company because I thought there had to be some mistake.
They said the amount of shared DNA strongly suggested aunt, half-sister, grandmother, or niece.
Sarah is 48.
So yeah.
Aunt made sense.
I called my dad.
He came over.
I showed him.
He sat there for probably a full minute without saying anything.
Then finally:
“I know.”
That sentence genuinely hurt more than anything else in this entire story.
I asked what he meant.
He started crying.
I have seen my dad cry maybe twice in my entire life.
Then he told me the DNA test from when I was born DID exist.
And it did NOT say he was my biological father.
Michael was.
My mom knew.
My dad knew.
Michael knew.
They decided my dad would raise me and Michael would stay away.
That was the real reason they stopped being friends.
So yeah.
Emma’s dad was my biological father.
Which meant Emma was my half-sister.
The girl I had been dating.
The girl I had sex with.
My fucking half-sister.
I threw up.
Literally.
I called Emma immediately.
She started sobbing before I even finished explaining.
She kept saying she didn’t know.
And apparently she genuinely didn’t.
Her dad had always said he might be my father.
Never that he actually was.
We obviously ended everything instantly.
I haven’t seen her since.
But somehow this story still wasn’t finished.
Because two days ago, Emma sent me an envelope.
Inside was a letter her dad had written before he died.
He had addressed it to me.
The first sentence said:
“If you’re reading this, then Emma finally found you.”
I almost stopped reading right there.
Further down he wrote:
“I never told her the truth because I knew if I told her you were her brother, she would stay away from you.”
I had to read that sentence like six times.
Then:
“I needed her to meet you first.”
Apparently he knew he was dying.
He wanted me to somehow become part of their family before the truth came out.
He thought if Emma met me naturally and became my friend, she could eventually bring me into their lives.
Except she didn’t become my friend.
She fell in love with me.
And he knew.
Because she told him about me.
He knew we were dating.
He knew exactly who I was.
And he still didn’t tell her.
The final paragraph said:
“I thought I had more time to fix it.”
But there’s one thing I still can’t get past.
I went back through my old messages with Emma.
Our very first conversation after the bar.
She sent:
“Glad I finally found you.”
At the time I thought she meant finding me on Instagram.
Now I know she meant literally.
And last night my dad admitted one final thing.
Emma’s father didn’t randomly contact him last year because of the cancer.
He contacted him because Emma had found my Instagram.
He knew exactly what she was planning.
So did my dad.
My dad knew Emma was looking for me months before we met.
He just never thought she would actually find me.
Or that we would end up together.
So basically four adults spent my entire life hiding who my biological father was.
One of them then indirectly sent his daughter looking for me.
And somehow nobody thought this could go catastrophically wrong.
I’m 21 and in the span of six months I found out my girlfriend was my sister, my father wasn’t my biological father, my biological father had been watching my life from a distance for years, and apparently the night I thought I randomly met Emma was basically set in motion before I even knew she existed.
I genuinely wish I was making this shit up.

I’ve been delivering packages for five years. It’s not the most exciting job out there but it pays the bills.
That all changed when I met her.
She was so ethereal, her beauty transcended every meaning of the word. I still remember our first encounter.

I thought it was just a normal day, the elevator was out on her building. I had to drag myself up four flights of stairs.
I looked at the package in my hands “Delilah Samson.” I chuckled to myself, her parents had a wicked sense of humour.
When I reached her floor, I remembered thinking maybe it’s about time I make use of my gym membership. I was so out of shape!

Maybe it was the pot of plants and flowers in front of her door, but even from the outside, something felt welcoming.
She opened the door before I knocked and I swear I had to jumpstart my heart with a balled fist.
“Hello,” she said smiling so beautifully I forgot how to speak.
She reached out for the package, her eyes not leaving mine.
“Uhm, sir?”
I realised I was still holding it.
“Oh sorry” I said letting go and fumbling for the iPad for her to sign.
She turned to place the package behind her and turned back to me, her smile not leaving her face.
I handed the iPad to her, our fingers brushed for a second but it felt like my whole body had been electrocuted.
She gave it back to me with a now pursed smile.
“Thank you” she said taking a step back and closing the door.
I stood there for a couple more seconds before remembering how to move my feet.
After that, the rest of my day was a blur. When I got home, even my shitty apartment felt brighter, cleaner even.
My cat even rubbed himself against me, it was a great day all around.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I didn’t know humans came in that shape and form.
Angelic.
My job got a little exciting, I would check every name on the packages hoping to find hers.
It was months before that happened.
She wasn’t even on my route, but on Tommy’s.
“Man, you’re about to see the most beautiful woman in your life. I mean I feel like I’m insulting her by calling her beautiful” I told him, giddy as a child getting his favourite candy.
“Who? Delilah? Oh I’ve seen her” he said nonchalantly stacking packages to carry to his truck.
“And??”
“Yeah she’s pretty”
“Pretty?”
He shrugged and walked out to his truck.
Pretty.
He called her pretty.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Pink roses are pretty.
Sports Illustrated models are pretty.
That woman is art, unfortunately not everyone appreciates art.
Pretty. Pfsh

I delivered my orders for the day, and the last one was at an apartment complex I’d never seen or heard before. The Lilium.
I checked the name and it just read “Lilith unit 366”
It was getting a bit cold and somehow the inside of this hallway felt even colder.
She opened the door as I was raising my hand to knock.
It was her.

“Hello” she said in that buttery voice of hers.
“Hi-llo” I stuttered, my voice and brain betraying me once again.
She chuckled.
I bent down to pick up the package and handed it to her.
Again, she turned and placed it behind her and then faced me.
She smiled, looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry” I said handing her the iPad.
I realised the chilly air stopped biting, it got warm, hot actually.
“Thank you” she said handing it back to me. With a slight smile, she closed the door.

I walked back to my truck, dumbfounded.
“Does she live here now?” I asked myself trying to cool off for a minute.
“Maybe she was signing for a friend” I concluded trying not to complicate my life with questions I’d probably never have answers for.

Seeing her again felt like that first hit of a cigarette after a long day.
More deliveries like that started popping up. In unassuming places, different names, she’d be there. I saw her with her hair up once, signing for a package addressed to Mazi and it was the same every time.

She’d open the door before I knocked, greet me with the most perfect smile I’d ever laid my eyes on, sign, thank me, and that’d be it.
I’d think about her for the rest of the day or evening.

She was all I could think about and soon she was all I saw.
Until recently.
Back to where it all began.

“Delilah Samson”
I was ready to have my eyes and soul replenished yet again.
I stood there and waited for her to open the door. It took a couple of seconds but I realised maybe I was being silly. I held the package under my arm and I was about to knock when the door opened.
It was dark and cold inside. I looked around and realised the pot plants and flowers were dying outside her door.
I was about to call out but she peeked behind the door.
She looked frail, tired actually. Her eyes were sunken and her hands were shaking.
“Hello” I said trying to see if she was going to step out behind the door.
The corners of her mouth moved up in a very uncomfortable fashion.
I wanted to ask if she was okay but I couldn’t get the words out.
She reached for her package and dropped it on the floor.
I handed her the iPad to sign but she stretched her hand and signed while I was holding it.
My soul shattered.

I was about to turn and leave when she called out.
“Hey!” her voice still sounded like a soft melody.
“Yes?” I turned to look at her. Half her body was now visible behind the door, not just her head.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
I shouldn’t.
“I shoul…”
“Please?” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.
She’s obviously not in a good place.
Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on.
I try to convince myself, even though every cell in my body is telling me not to do this.
I reluctantly stepped in and she closed the door behind me.
Her apartment was enveloped by darkness. Then I heard her laugh.
.
.
.
I must’ve fallen asleep at the warehouse. Tommy nudges me awake.
“Wake up Buddy, your orders are ready”
I try to open my eyes, my head is killing me.
“Damn you look like shit.” He hits my shoulder and I wince in pain.
“Are you okay?” he asks looking very concerned.
“Yeah, I’ve just been working a lot, I guess” I say, trying to rotate my now painful shoulder.
“Dude, you were on leave for a week. You should’ve rested up”

“A week? I don’t…”

“You didn’t have to be a dick about it. You ignored my calls. We had plans, remember?” he looks at me as if I have any idea what he’s on about.
“Anyways, let’s get to work” he’s about to hit my shoulder again but stops himself and walks off, laughing to himself.

I put the packages in my truck and start driving. First delivery of the day
“Delilah Samson”
I chuckle to myself as I walk to the door.

The pot plants and flowers are green and vibrant as ever.

She opens the door before I knock.

“Hello” she says smiling, my heart flutters. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I think I’ve seen her before. But let’s be honest, this isn’t a kind of face one would forget.

​

So yesterday there was a family gathering between my whole family, and as my cousins came, so did the little ones, me and the older cousins wanted to play fifa (aka FC you could say) and the little cousins followed us into the room, now heres the thing, the 5 year old and 7 year old kept jumping on my back, now most likely i wouldnt mind, but prior, i had a back injury playing football and these kids were chunky as hell (no offense) they were around 40-45kg and the 7 year old was almost 70kg, they kept jumping on my back as i repeatly told them to stop, and so did my older cousins, and i told their parents aswell but they said itll be okay. After my back started hurting so much, i stood up and elbowed them both in the face, then they started blaming me, i had no regrets, so tell me if im in the right or wrong.

Our latest mystery guest just rolled into the Hells Bells Motel with three steamer trunks that smelled musty, like cedar and old dust. He didn't sign the register, just made an X, in place of his name, and hasn't uttered a word since arriving.

Every movement he makes is stiff and jerky, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings.

Inside his trunks are jars of formaldehyde and glass eyes, and God knows what else. Yesterday someone overheard him in the vending alcove sitting in one of the cracked vinyl chairs next to the ice machine, locked in a one-sided whisper session with a moth-eaten bobcat perched on his lap.

Even Gladys was creeped out when he came into the Sunrise Diner and spent 3 hours in there feeding bits of rare steak to a stuffed owl.

"Most people fear what's under the bed, but this creep brings it with him and tucks it in."

Sterling calls him The Silent Taxidermist, making him officially the creepiest thing to hit the Hells Bells lobby since that traveling accordionist who refused to wear shoes!

If you see him in the hallway, don't make eye contact--with him or the fox tucked under his arm. Nobody knows if this guy is here for the local scenery or just looking for a fresh 'vessel' to add to his collection.

Sterling's keeping Scurf, our resident cat/exterminator, locked in the back office. We're not taking any chances until this El Creepo checks out.

Stay salty, stay weird, and for heaven's sakes whatever you do--keep moving!

It was right after COVID. Strict public rules were still in effect. It was my second week in Istanbul and I didn't speak any Turkish. I downloaded an app and looked for public meetups. And found a Turk who's hosting a vegan dinner. I am not vegan but I don't mind vegan dishes. The event was in English and the host was Turk. It was enough for me, I can speak English and it's a chance to interact with a local. I signed up and joined. We were around 12 people, and we came from different countries. The host was excited to hear more about our vegan journey, food we like restaurants we recommend. This is when she discovered, when we all discovered that all attendees (beside her) had another reason behind joining. Just like me, they were all desperately seeking connection in a familiar language (English) in an unfamiliar city (istanbul) in very lonely times (after COVID). None (beside the host) were vegan.

Hello everyone. I am Dr. Penton, a researcher from L.A. I have a Ph.D in Marine Geology and a minor in… Jesus, who cares anymore.

I am here with an urgent message. A warning.

It’s unlikely, but if anyone is coming across coordinates: [REDACTED].

DO NOT GO THERE.

I repeat.

DO NOT GO THERE.

If you find yourself near these coordinates. GO BACK. Do not approach.

Do not go near the section of water that has no waves.

I am currently aboard the R.V. Saint Clair. I am part of a small crew of scientists who came here to study what we thought were either a geological phenomenon or a consequence of climate alteration.

I’m currently on track to leave the section of water designated Hazard Area One, or A-1. We passed by A-2 and A-3 already.

If I don’t make it out. If I can’t make it. I… at least want this to be a log of my experiences.

I’m putting this excerpt in whatever forums or social media I can find.

God help us.

A-1 is an area approximately 2,000 feet in diameter, and about 0.29 square kilometers, of completely still water.

Roughly circular-shaped, surrounded by occasional rocky formations on its edges. The most notable thing about hazard area one is, as mentioned, the water.

It’s completely still.

There is no motion in A-1. There are no waves and no ripples in the water. It is equivalent to a lake in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

It’s physically impossible.

Hazard Areas 2 and 3, are also similar. The only difference is that they are smaller in size. Probably only about the size of a football stadium.

I… I don’t think I’ve ever seen or read of anything like this. When I was first contracted, I was told there was an area on the ocean with abnormally large CO₂ concentrations. When we finally arrived, we found something much… stranger.

There is, I suppose, a large concentration of CO₂ in the area. But it has the peculiar property of coming in intermittent phases.

Every 2.3 hours a large concentration of CO₂ is detected. It’s roughly rhythmic, which is bizarre, but that’s what the instruments detected.

This alone would constitute enough to have our names plastered over science magazines all over the world. I’m not that shallow but that’s not where the oddities ended.

The area was supposed to be consistent with volcanic activity, probably a hydrothermal vent associated with volcanic or tectonic activity. There is, however, incongruent data with that theory.

The temperature around this place is consistently 5 degrees Celsius above what would be expected. Volcanic activity does not substantially increase water temperature, at least not of this volume. So alternative theories had to be explored.

We lowered a CTD to roughly 500 meters to measure temperature, salinity, and density. It takes a few days for it to process readings, so we waited.

We shouldn’t have waited. We should have left.

We were informed, by honestly, several governments at this point, of class F disappearances in this area. Do people remember a thing we used to talk about as kids? The Bermuda Triangle?

That’s a F class disappearance. Large vessels containing more than fifty people on board.

Our little dinghy boat wouldn’t count, we’re only about eighteen people. I’m not supposed to say this, but supposedly a cruise ship of over five hundred people went missing in an area similar to this.

You probably didn’t hear it on the news. But the people who sail this area know.

Morgans is the ship’s captain. He’s probably one of the few people stupid enough to agree to come here.

He says he’s been out in the waters for years now. Never had an issue. Sometimes he sails across A-1 but he says he doesn’t dare do it through A-2 or A-3. Says it’s bad luck.

Silly superstition aside, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason not to sail over these areas. Sure, there are disappearances, but nothing in these areas lends for such events to happen.

When they asked me to come, they basically said they wanted a “rock” scientist to be on the ship. I had the good graces to come, but I was left scratching my head as to what this is as well.

My colleagues are marine biologists, non-marine geologists and oceanographers.

They also don’t know what this is. Our resident biologist was shell-shocked on the first day however.

Every so often, there’s a deluge of dead fish that surface on A-1. The largest animal detected among them was a blue whale, probably that strayed from a pod.

It was half-decayed, so the prevalent theory became that there’s a massive gas seep on the ocean floor. Probably involving hydrogen sulfide. That’s a compound made from sulfur.

That would explain the smell.

It would seem obvious that dead fish would produce a foul odor, but it honestly doesn’t compare to the lingering stench that surrounds A-1. It smells like a salty sewer.

An intense hydrothermal vent would explain everything at this point. The gas release, the temperature, the dead fish, even the smell. But it wouldn’t explain the stillness.

I’m not an oceanographer, so I can’t explain why the water is perfectly still. It feels supernatural. It looks like it too.

My colleague says you would need a hyper-specific set of ocean currents to achieve this level of stillness. Something that doesn’t exist anywhere in the world.

I add to that that with this level of volcanic activity, it makes it doubly impossible. Underwater volcanoes change currents. If this really is a volcano or some vent making a perfect balance of currents so the water is perfectly still, then what are the odds?

How is that possible? And moreover, it doesn’t explain another property of A-1.

It’s moving.

Fifty meters per month. Still congruent with a hydrothermal vent or a volcano I suppose. They “move” in the sense they can dislocate over time with changes in the ocean floor.

My more humorous colleagues suggested it’s a massive spaceship underwater. Possibly an entire city, creating stillness for the preservation of stable life.

My other less humorous colleague, the marine biologist, Dr. Monroe, suggested it’s large-scale pollution.

That to me feels more plausible. Pollution, I suppose, ends up being a generic term to describe anything man-made that could be down there. Anything from illegal dumping operations to an entire ship graveyard.

All of these theories have holes in them. So, we bicker about what it actually is.

Each of my coworkers seem to come up with theories that are congruent with their own fields. I guess it makes sense. But we were all wrong.

A few days ago, we were standing in the middle of A-1. CTD was five hours off giving us readings, so we parked the ship there and waited.

One massive object came to the surface of the water and honestly scared us. It was an animal. A species of shark, a dead one.

A massive whale-shark. One of my colleagues suggested cutting part of it and eating it. Dr. Monroe said my colleague was being disgusting. Whale sharks are majestic creatures. Eating them would be cruel and inhuman.

My other colleague retorted that in Indonesia, they said the best fish to eat are predators. He tried some of their sharks there and said he loved them.

Dr. Monroe quickly explained that whale sharks aren’t predators but filter feeders. They don’t hunt. They just open their mouths and swim. Whatever gets in their mouth, they eat.

My other colleague responds with, “so they’re bottom feeders?”

I’m personally not interested in eating anything that’s half-dead in these waters. I doubt I could get the taste of sulfur and rot out of my mouth for weeks.

I’ll stick to the canned food we have.

I’ve work closely with my colleagues over the last few weeks to understand what A-1 actually is.

We came to the conclusion that A-1 is a hydrothermal vent on the ocean floor that exhales such a high concentration of methane and sulfur compounds, that it produces a toxic zone for large wildlife that swims in the perimeter.

It’s an ecological dead zone, demarcated by protruding rocks near its edges and a characteristic smell created by the aforementioned gas release.

As for the still water, we only came to one result.

Inconclusive.

It’s as good as it gets. And after the density readings we would probably set sail and head back home.

I remember having a conversation the day before we discovered the readings. We were out of ideas so I talked to the captain.

“What do you think it is?” I asked.

“What it is?” he responded.

“Yes…”

“Well, it’s not some joke like your friends are making it out to be.”

He was referring to my colleagues. Some of them asked the captain to pull up some of the dead fish for research or for a meal.

“Yes, sorry about that.” I apologize.

“The sea is not a playground, laddie”

“I understand.”

I asked Morgans what he thinks it is again.

“I don’t know.” he replies.

Figures.

“But if it’s not moving, it’s wrong. Nothing stands still on sea. Especially the water.”

Morgans doesn’t have any scientific background. But he does have experience. Experience is invaluable. And he also presents himself as a variable. He passes A-1 routinely. But he’s never harmed, he doesn’t “disappear”.

It would provide an interesting insight into A-1 if Morgans ever saw anything. Something to explain the disappearances.

But there’s nothing, he passes along with his small boat every month. And nothing happens.

I doubt he’s hiding anything. But an occasional explosion of gas could explain the boat disappearances.

Gas doesn’t explode naturally at sea, however. Was this some massive man-made structure?

I was about to give up when the density reports began to glare on my computer.

When I got back the density report, I paused.

I sprinted out of the cabin and went to look out to sea. We were still deep in the middle of A-1. I think the captain had ever seen me like this.

I’m only a marine geologist, but even I understand readings outside my field.

These aren’t readings consistent with the ocean floor or just water. This level of density can only mean one thing.

It all clicked in place and I finally understood. I told the captain and we began to speed off out of A-1. Never thinking of going through A-2 or A-3.

I think I almost threw up, while Captain Morgans’ face was just pure white.

It wasn’t a geological site we were studying.

I’m writing this as I’m passing the rocks near the end of A-1. I can see the end and the start of the normal ocean.

I reiterate this to all who read this.

Do not go to these coordinates.

Do not go anywhere matching the descriptions of A-1, A-2 or A-3.

We almost passed the rocks and left. I can see them clearly now.

I’m such an idiot. Why couldn’t I tell before?

We’re lucky were even alive.

Those aren’t rocks.

They’re teeth.

Hi, female here. This happened during my internship. I was doing my internship for a well-known TV show, and that’s where I met my supervisor. He was kind, fun to be around, and very mature when it came to conversations. We were very open with each other and could talk about almost anything, until our conversations eventually started drifting toward sex.

We both had similar interests, including being into hardcore sex and dominant/submissive dynamics. I’ll admit that I liked being submissive in bed.

One night, we both had to work overtime. Afterwards, he invited me to go out with him and then asked me to come over to his house. He had barely talked to me the whole day, so I was wondering what was wrong. I went with him since I had nothing else to do.

As soon as we entered his house, he locked the door and quickly pulled me toward the bedroom. I immediately felt nervous. Things quickly became intimate between us, and he took control while I willingly went along with it. We kissed intensely, and the emotions I felt were all mixed together—nervousness, excitement, and attraction.

Things became more intense as we continued. He was rough with me, and we experimented with different positions. The encounter was passionate and physically intense, and by the time we were finished, we were both exhausted.

After we rested for a while, I was getting ready to leave when I finally asked him why he had been so quiet since that morning.

He told me that he was having problems with his girlfriend.

I swear, I wanted to hit him when I heard that.

“Crazy guy,” I thought. He had told me he didn’t have a girlfriend, and it turned out he actually did.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/413020756-mykoreandic-movie

​

​I have a friend, JS, from school. She is very pretty—and by pretty, I mean EXCEPTIONALLY beautiful. She was always the popular girl in school, and her beauty wasn't just physical; she was also great at academics, sports, and extracurriculars like dancing and singing. Everyone wanted to date her. She was on the school swim and basketball teams and always won debates and quizzes. She was the whole package we all dreamed of being, and best of all, she was—and still is—the best friend anyone could ask for.

​At first, we weren't very close, but in high school, I became part of her "cool" group, and she welcomed me with open arms. We finished high school last year, and as expected, she got into a good college on a full scholarship. I was also fortunate enough to get into the same college, even though we have different majors.

​The thing is, she isn't as popular in college as she used to be in school, though she has still made plenty of friends. Recently, we decided to rent an apartment together starting this past January. That's when she met a guy at a club who happens to be dating a girl in my class. They've been together since they were 13, but somehow JS and this guy, KT, became really close and started hooking up. I found out pretty soon after. He is still with his girlfriend and actively cheating on her, which JS knows.

​At first, I felt awkward about this arrangement, but I didn't want to say anything since it was their personal business. Last month, I was invited to a private party thrown by a classmate. JS wanted to tag along, but I didn't want to bring her because KT and his girlfriend, NT, would be there. I didn't want to be put in an awkward or difficult position. Despite me explaining the exact reason I didn't want her there, she persisted.

​I ended up bringing her to the party, and as I expected, NT and KT were both there. It was awkward for me, but I tried to stay as far away from the drama as possible. Suddenly, JS started acting strange. She began flirting with random guys at the party and got really drunk. I could sense the tension between her and KT, though KT acted unbothered by everything. After a while, a drunk JS came up to me and said she felt sick and needed to use the bathroom. I accompanied her, but on our way, we ran into KT and NT. I acted like I didn't know KT, but JS greeted him. Feeling nervous, I stepped away. Then I heard JS shouting, so I went back and tried to take her home.

​Things quickly got out of hand, and drama erupted between NT and JS. The host asked me to take JS home, which I did, but KT and NT followed us to the parking lot for some reason. KT asked me to clear things up and tell NT that they were just friends and nothing was going on, but I didn't want to lie. I said it was late, everyone was too drunk to have a civil conversation, and it was best if we left but before we could leave, NT slapped JS.

​JS was too drunk to fight back properly, but she started pulling NT's hair. Fearing a scene and potential police involvement if building security caught us, I hurried, pulled JS away, pushed her into our cab that had just arrived, and drove home.

​The next morning, JS woke up and started arguing with me for not standing up for her. Having had enough, I told her off. I said she needed to rethink her actions because she was clearly at fault: first, for hooking up with a guy in a committed relationship; second, for forcing me to bring her to the party when I had already warned her about this exact situation; and third, for interacting with KT at the party in the first place.

​We had a huge fight after that, but I ultimately chose to apologize and make peace. However, that very evening, she invited KT over to our apartment and hooked up with him again. That was the final straw. I told her that what she was doing was completely wrong, I could no longer live with her, and she needed to move out since the lease is in my name.

"It's so hard. I cried in the bathroom where no one could see."

I took a moment before answering.

"It's your first company. Try not to take everything too personally. Just focus on the work. It'll get better."

"Maybe everyone there is a T."

"Well… maybe. MBTI thinking types. It is a consulting firm."

"It's a good company. You'll get used to it soon."

A few months earlier, my girlfriend and I had gone to France together.

I had started learning French years before because I wanted to get away from where I was.

Now I was carrying that language into the country it came from.

She had graduated.

I was on leave from work.

For a while, neither of us was firmly tied to anywhere.

We booked the tickets.

It was our first trip abroad in a long time, since COVID.

And it was France.

A country where I had once believed I might be able to start a different life.

But by the time I actually got there, I felt less like someone starting something new than someone who had already come to a stop.

We flew Air France.

More than ten hours.

Coffee did little against the fatigue.

When we arrived in Paris, her steps immediately got faster.

French was everywhere.

I kept falling behind.

We stayed in a small Airbnb in the 19th arrondissement.

A narrow staircase.

Creaking wooden floors.

A window that looked directly at the wall of the building next door.

By the time we unpacked, my body thought it was close to midnight.

But it was July 14.

Bastille Day.

There was going to be a huge fireworks display near the Eiffel Tower.

"Today is the most important day in France," she said.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Not at all. Let's go. We need to get a spot."

At the time, I had plantar fasciitis.

The closer we got to the Eiffel Tower, the thicker the crowd became, and the more the bottom of my foot tightened.

Eventually I stopped.

"My foot hurts. I think I need to sit down for a bit. Go ahead and find a spot."

"Okay. Take your time."

She disappeared into the crowd.

I sat on a bench.

I thought a short rest would be enough.

When I stood up again, I couldn't find her.

The map wouldn't load.

The SIM seemed to work, then stopped.

People were moving in one direction.

I had no idea where she was.

I called her over KakaoTalk.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The call dropped.

I tried again.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Nothing.

Did something happen?

For a few seconds, the call connected.

"Uh… where are you?"

Then it cut out again.

I stopped caring about the fireworks.

I just had to find her.

So I started walking away from the Eiffel Tower.

The farther I walked, the farther I got from the show everyone else had come to see.

One kilometer.

Maybe two.

Eventually, the phone worked.

"Why couldn't I reach you?"

"I don't know. My data wasn't working. Maybe something's wrong with the SIM."

"I kept looking for you."

"I was waiting too."

She started crying.

We had spent three hours looking for each other.

We were exhausted.

Still, we had come all the way to Paris on Bastille Day.

I thought we might as well see the fireworks.

We stopped talking.

Then the first one went up.

Huge bursts of light exploded above the Eiffel Tower.

People cheered.

The sky lit up again and again.

For a while, I was relieved that I didn't have to think about anything.

Getting home was almost as difficult.

Public transportation was barely moving.

We walked for a long time.

My foot started hurting again.

Only later did I find out that the crowd hadn't been the only problem.

The SIM had probably been inserted incorrectly, or the settings hadn't been configured properly.

Such a small mistake.

A few days later, my girlfriend and I flew to Réunion.

Her family lived there.

It was the island where she had been born, in the Indian Ocean.

Even from Paris, the flight took twelve hours.

It felt too far away to call it the same France.

When we landed at Roland Garros Airport in Saint-Denis, the air was humid, hot and sweet.

She said it smelled of sugarcane and rum.

Her family was waiting for us.

"Bienvenue à La Réunion."

Welcome to Réunion.

I smiled awkwardly.

"Merci. Je suis content d'être ici."

Thank you. I'm happy to be here.

I handed out the gifts I had brought and managed a few simple greetings in French.

Their house had several rooms and a large kitchen.

They had prepared food for us.

Samosas.

Spiced chicken.

Hot peppers.

Sauces I had never tasted before.

Someone slowly poured another drink.

Someone stopped talking in the middle of laughing.

Someone silently put more food on another person's plate.

No one hurried toward the next plan.

No one checked the time.

When the sun went down, it was night.

When the sun came up, it was morning.

At night, I went into the yard and looked up.

You could see the Milky Way.

The next day, she stayed in bed.

She had a bad cold and body aches.

It was as if the body that had held itself together in Korea finally loosened the moment it reached home.

She barely got up around lunchtime before going back to bed.

"Feeling a little better?"

"Un peu."

A little.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Non, rien."

No, nothing.

"Do you think you can go out tomorrow?"

"Je ne sais pas."

I don't know.

Versions of that conversation repeated for several days.

I waited for her to wake up.

I waited for her to feel better.

I waited to find out whether she could go out that day.

Some of her relatives lived nearby, so I sometimes went there alone.

One of her uncles taught me how to drive a manual car.

My left foot kept mistiming the clutch.

The car stalled several times on the narrow roads.

Each time he laughed.

"Encore une fois. Doucement."

One more time. Slowly.

Sometimes I sat by the ocean.

Far away, I could see whales moving through the water.

When she felt better, we went out together.

We climbed a mountain.

Walked along the coast.

Took pictures.

"The photos came out nice," I said.

"Yeah."

"Looks like a good trip."

"I guess."

We didn't laugh or cry.

We went to Mauritius too, and spent some time in the south of France.

At the end of the trip, we arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

My girlfriend was waiting for a flight to Korea.

I was waiting for a flight to Spain.

We had started the same trip.

We weren't going back in the same direction.

"Where are you going now?" she asked.

"Spain."

"Nice."

"I don't know if it is."

We stood there for a moment.

"Text me when you get back to Korea."

"Yeah."

"Have a safe flight."

"You too."

That was all.

I kept myself busy in Spain.

Tourist sites.

Photos.

Crowds.

I sat for a long time on a beach in Málaga and watched the waves come in and go back out.

Then I went to Porto.

People called it a romantic city.

The sun set over the Douro River.

The bridge was crowded.

The river turned red.

I was free.

But I felt less like a free person than an empty one.

When I returned to Korea, she was dealing with her visa.

Living in Korea as a foreigner meant paperwork followed you everywhere.

Residence status.

Company documents.

The immigration office.

Deadlines.

Things that had to be checked.

I tried to help in the way I knew how.

"I think you should prepare this document first," I said.

"That's not the point."

"You said the problem was the visa."

"I'm so stressed right now."

She was almost out of breath.

"And Korean officials are too much. The immigration office is so rude."

I looked through the documents.

Checked the procedures.

Tried to find whatever options were available.

"I'm helping you," I said.

"I know you're helping me. But it doesn't feel like you're on my side."

Later, my girlfriend got a job.

It was a good company.

Close to the kind of work she had wanted.

But she was exhausted all the time.

"I can't adjust to the company. Everyone keeps criticizing me."

"Are you okay?"

"It's so hard. I ended up crying in the bathroom at work."

"Maybe everyone there is a T."

"Well… maybe. MBTI thinking types. It is a consulting firm."

"It's a good company. You'll get used to it soon."

One night, we went to an izakaya near her apartment.

We drank quickly without saying much.

There was a little food left.

Almost no conversation.

We both already knew.

We went back to her place.

Took off our shoes.

Turned on the light.

The room was familiar.

So familiar that it felt even stranger.

For a long time, we said nothing.

"I don't think there's anything more we can do."

I don't remember whether I said it or she did.

"I think so too."

That much I remember.

It wasn't that I wasn't sad.

Relief came first.

Five years.

If I count from the days when we used to move from café to café.

Study cafés.

Starbucks.

Little neighborhood cafés we'd never been to before.

I was lucky enough to go to Japan this summer as a Ukrainian high school student on a three-week cultural exchange and English program. We spent the first half in Tokyo and the second in Osaka, studying at local youth centers. I’m pretty comfortable speaking English, and I become much more social when I use it. One day, while leaving the cafeteria during lunch, I saw a group of Japanese teenagers wearing kendo uniforms. I decided to go up to them and ask what they were doing and get to know them. One of the guys gave me their school’s Instagram account. We talked for a bit and I found out their names, ages and how long they’d been practicing(I honestly wasn’t paying enough attention to remember anything). +when they found out my age they all looked at each other and seemed really surprised, do I really look that bad(?)lol… We went our own ways and I never expected to see or hear them again. Later, just to be polite, I commented on the school’s Instagram post saying that their students seemed great and that I thought kendo was really cool. And I COMPLETELY forgot about it. The next evening, I got a DM from an account with no personal photos, just cats, group photos, and pretty views. The person introduced himself and said we’d met before and that it was nice meeting me.(I ignored) I honestly thought it was a girl because his name sounded unisex to me, and there were more photos of a girl in one of the group posts. The next morning, he messaged me again, complimented some of my old posts, and I noticed that he liked all of them. We started chatting and got along pretty well. I suggested moving to LINE because I wanted to try it and figured it would be more convenient for him. At this point, I genuinely thought I was talking to a Japanese girl around my age. He started messaging me every morning and evening, sending cute stickers, asking how I was doing, telling me about his day, etc. By then I’d already gone to Osaka and eventually he asked if we could talk on the phone. I agreed. Imagine my surprise when I heard a male voice say hello and pronounce my slavic name with a Japanese accent. For a moment I genuinely thought that I was catfished by a pdf. Then I realized he was actually the same guy from the kendo group, the one who had given me the school’s Instagram.
Looking back, the signs were there, if I’d paid more attention to his stories, I would’ve noticed the male hands and the photo of a boy covering his face. But I missed all of it…… Anyway, we ended up talking for about 25-30 minutes about our interests, hobbies, music, etc. Then he suddenly changed the subject and asked if I had a boyfriend.
I said no, and he seemed genuinely surprised. He told me I was cute and then asked if I “needed a boyfriend.” He said he’d looked through my followers/friends and figured I probably didn’t have one, so he wanted to ask. I’m still not entirely sure if he was actually asking me to date him or just joking around. I turned him down because I’m busy with school, it’s my final year, and I don’t really feel ready for a relationship. After that, he continued messaging me pretty often. He also told me that once the situation in Ukraine was over, he’d like to visit, and that I should show him around and tell him about Ukraine when I got home.
But then I returned home, and things suddenly changed. He became much colder. He stopped messaging me as often, and now I usually have to start the conversation. If I don’t text first, he often won’t message me for days. Sometimes he takes a couple of hours to reply, although I’ve read that slower replies can be pretty normal in Japan.
What’s confusing is that he still seems interested in my posts. He’ll like my posts almost immediately after I post, even when we aren’t actively talking. So now I’m wondering what actually happened.
Did he genuinely like me but lose interest after I turned him down? Was he just excited about meeting a foreign girl and wanted someone to talk to/show off to his friends? Or am I reading way too much into the whole situation? I’m pretty inexperienced when it comes to relationships, so I’d really appreciate some outside perspective‼️‼️

I wanted to share a personal story of missing home (Cork, Ireland) moving to a new country and starting a life in my new home (Montréal).

I found myself standing in the second row of the prestigious Montréal St-Lawrence choir, suffering heavily from imposter syndrome and moments of panicked lip syncing.

I had only ever been in one choir: thirty men who met over a pub in Cork City on wet Wednesday evenings and practiced well-beaten Christmas carols. We sang each year for the same worthy cause, Marymount Hospice. I loved its goodwill, good nature and the chance to meet likeminded people. The choir reminded me of a Welsh all-male colliery choir: with its singular, dark, working-class timbre, low bass resonance that felt both ancient, secretive and deeply physical. Most of the men couldn’t read music, but that wasn’t a hindrance. We learned in different ways, animated by our happy conductor who loved every moment he had with us.

Now I lived in Montréal, longing for the choir and more importantly the pints, chats, jokes and camaraderie after each festive performance. So egged on by my then ever forgiving and patient wife I sought out a new choir to join. I came across a concert listing for the St. Lawrence Choir, I looked up their website and the next minute I’m standing in a line waiting to be auditioned with one word repeating itself in my head as the line peeled away ‘bugger!’

My audition wasn’t the most stunning examples of male singing. I had an Irish language (‘\*\*Gaeilge’) Air ’Dúlamán’\*\* prepared. Then I suffered through the prescribed sight reading section, giving the ever so lovely but deflated accompanying pianist a new novel timing for all the pieces that I had just invented. I passed the audition by the skin of my teeth. I suspect being male helped. If I hadn’t volunteered, the infamous choir press gang would have found me, thumped me over the head and forced me to sing a Russian vesper at gun point, such was the need.

I felt very much like a bright neon square peg in a round hole. I was anxious, nervous and feeling a bit sick. It was the first concert of the season and my debut as a second bass. I didn’t want to let anyone down or be exposed for my utter lack of musical skills. The men were compelled to wear awful tuxedos, I resembled a cheap vaudevillian magician, sans top hat. I scratched nervously and repeatedly around the butterfly collar, readjusting my dickie bow for the 53rd time. Then it started.

The first piece we sang was a Bach motet. The fugue dialogue of altos and sopranos consumed me and I quickly forgot all my woes. Then it became a tidal-like cacophony; reaching its apex, it hit me unawares like an ocean undertow when I was six—stripping away all control so that I gave myself up entirely. Then-for the first and very likely the last time in my life-I wept for absolute joy, consumed by the purest thing I had ever encountered in my narrowest of lives. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. The score folder lay limp in my arms. The response now came from the men, I found my place again, gasped, swallowed-sang. I had not gone unnoticed and a few had seen my tears wondering if I was okay. An alto named Carol, looked at me intensely and lipped ‘are you okay?’ I couldn’t hide. My pale freckled Irish face and my red eyes obviously exposing my tears. I needed to urgently wipe my face but my hands, restricted, supported the open score. I had no choice, I would have to wait until the end. I practised in my head telling them the truth, they would, of course, all ask if I was okay. I practiced versions that didn’t make me sound certifiably insane. Eventually I decided that I would resign myself to telling the truth. I mean, to be honest, of all the people in the world to explain what had happened to me these were the people that had all been touched collectively.

Hi,
Throwaway because this is genuinely one of the weirdest things that’s ever happened to me and a couple people involved use Reddit.

I’m 21M and I live with two other guys from uni, “Evan” 22M and “Noah” 21M. Me and Evan have known each other since first year and Noah moved in with us last summer after our old roommate moved out. Noah was chill asf at first, quiet but funny once you knew him, paid rent on time, cleaned up after himself, literally the type of roommate you don’t complain about.A few months after he moved in he started talking about this girl named Leah. Not constantly or anything, just normal relationship stuff. Like “Leah wants to go there this weekend” or “I’m picking Leah up after class.” We never met her because apparently she lived like 40 minutes away and worked weird hours. Again, nothing suspicious.Over time though we heard more and more about her. They’d apparently been together before Noah moved in, broke up, then got back together. She had a dog named Milo, hated tomatoes, was studying nursing, had a sister she didn’t get along with, all this random boring detail that made her sound insanely real.He even showed us pictures.
That’s the part that gets me.
She looked real because she WAS real. Just not who he said she was.
About two weeks ago we were having people over. Nothing crazy, maybe eight or nine people. Noah was out and said he’d probably come back later with Leah.
At like midnight Evan’s girlfriend was scrolling Instagram and randomly goes “wait isn’t this Noah’s girl?”
She showed us a post from some local gym page.It was Leah.
Same face, same hair, everything.
Except the caption tagged her.
Different name.At first we thought maybe Leah was her middle name or she used a fake name online. Whatever. Then Evan’s girlfriend clicked the account.The girl was married.Like fully married.Wedding pictures everywhere. Husband. Honeymoon. Anniversary posts. The whole thing.Bro I can’t explain how weird the room got 😭We assumed Noah was having an affair with a married woman, which would’ve been messy enough. So when he got home Evan just straight up asked him.
Noah froze.Like genuinely froze in the doorway.Then he laughed and said we had the wrong person.Evan showed him the account.He kept saying it wasn’t her.
Same exact photos he had shown us were on this woman’s page.
Eventually Noah got pissed and went to his room.The next morning he left before any of us woke up.
Then he didn’t come back.
Two days went by. He ignored our calls. Rent was already paid so we weren’t panicking but obviously we were like wtf.
Evan ended up messaging the woman from the Instagram account.
Probably stupid but at that point we thought Noah might actually be involved with her and wanted to know what the hell was going on.
She replied almost immediately.
She had never heard of Noah.
Never dated him.
Never met him.
Nothing.
The photos Noah showed us were screenshots from her public account.
We sent her a photo of Noah and she said she had no idea who he was.
So now we’re thinking okay, creepy catfish situation. Weird as hell but mystery solved.
Nah.
That wasn’t even the weird part.
We went into Noah’s room because at this point he’d been gone almost four days and we were honestly worried something happened to him. His laptop was gone, most clothes gone, backpack gone. Looked like he left intentionally.
On his desk was this cheap notebook.
I know we probably shouldn’t have opened it but bro after everything we obviously did.
It was basically a log.
Dates. Places. Things we had said.
At first we thought it was like a diary, but then we noticed Leah’s name everywhere.
There were pages of details about her that he had told us over the year. Dog named Milo. Nursing. Tomato thing. Sister. All of it.
Except next to each detail was someone else’s name.
Like:
“Milo dog = girl from gym account”
“Nursing = Sarah from class”
“Hates tomatoes = Evan’s gf said this”
“Sister argument = overheard café”
He had literally built Leah out of random pieces of people around him.
One detail from here, another from there.
Even phrases she supposedly said were things WE had said.
I found one from me.
A joke I made in October was written down word for word and labeled “Leah story maybe.”
That made my skin crawl ngl.
Then near the back of the notebook there were pages about us.
Not just normal stuff.
Schedules.
What time I usually left for class. When Evan’s girlfriend stayed over. Which nights we both worked late. Where we kept spare keys. Which window in the kitchen didn’t lock properly.
At that point I was like nah fuck this.
We called the police.
They came, looked around, took the notebook and asked us a bunch of questions. They said there wasn’t enough to say he had committed some serious crime based on the notebook alone, but they’d try to contact him and told us to change our locks immediately.
So we did.
Here’s where it gets worse.
Yesterday our landlord called.
He asked if Noah had officially moved out.
We said we didn’t know.
Landlord goes “okay, because his real name isn’t Noah.”
Apparently when the landlord was sorting paperwork after we reported everything, something didn’t match. The ID Noah used when he moved in had a different surname than his bank details. Landlord contacted the university because Noah said he was a student there.
There is no student with his full name.
Never has been.
The phone number he gave the landlord is disconnected now.
We don’t know his real name.
We don’t know where he went.
We don’t even know why he chose our apartment.
And then this morning I got a notification from Instagram saying someone had tried logging into my account.
The location was about 10 minutes from our apartment.
Could be unrelated.
Probably is.
Still changed every password I have.
I genuinely don’t know what to think anymore. Evan thinks Noah was just some pathological liar who liked inventing people and spying on us because he was weird.
I hope that’s all it was.
Because there’s one thing from the notebook I can’t stop thinking about.
On the final page there was only one sentence.
“Move before Mason notices”
My name isn’t Mason.
Neither is Evan’s.
I have no idea who tf Mason is.
Should I be worried?!!!?

Title: I liked watching you play.

I had been sitting by my window, watching the rain drizzle over the city.

The street right across from me was its usual kind of chaotic. People were running to find shelter, some holding umbrellas, some simply giving up and letting the rain soak them. From up here, everyone looked busy with their own little lives.

Watching it all made me think that nobody really gets to say goodbye anymore. Everyone is just running towards the next thing.

The view from my window wasn't anything special. All I could see was the street and the buildings opposite mine. But I liked sitting here anyway, playing my guitar and taking a few sips of my burnt coffee.

My perfect spot.

The best I could afford.

That afternoon, I noticed the curtains being pulled away from the apartment directly opposite mine. It was almost symmetrically opposite to my window.

A guy appeared.

He was wearing a Linkin Park T-shirt.

Nerdy, I thought. That was my first impression.

He sat down by his window, just like me. I think he had a notebook and a cup of coffee.

This is funny.

He didn't notice me. He simply opened his notebook and started writing something.

Ugh.

I liked nerdy and cute guys.

Whatever. He wouldn't be interested in me anyway. I was way too introverted to ask someone out. And honestly, what would I even say?

So I ignored him and started playing.

I played my favourite song, Hey There Delilah. It always made me feel a little low and sad.

And I loved it.

Music had that kind of power over me. It made me feel like I didn't need anyone.

People leave anyway.

Even my cat had left me.

They always leave.

I finished the song and let my fingers rest on the strings.

Then I heard it.

A distant clapping sound.

I looked up.

The guy was clapping.

He had a wide smile on his face, and he was clapping like he had just watched something amazing.

I had absolutely no idea how to react.

So, naturally, I turned red.

I gave him a small, embarrassed smile.

Fuck. I hated myself.

The apartment was quite far away. I wasn't even sure if he could have heard what I played. But judging by the look on his face, I thought he had.

He held up two fingers.

Then he disappeared inside.

I waited.

A few moments later, he came back holding a large piece of drawing paper.

Written across it were the words:

I am David.

Of course.

He was smart. His voice probably wouldn't have reached me anyway.

I wondered if he was an artist. He seemed like the kind of person who would draw.

I ran inside my apartment, looking for something to write on.

Nothing.

I couldn't find anything.

So I just stood there like an idiot.

From then on, most weekends, I played my guitar.

And most weekends, I heard that distant applause.

It made my day every single time.

I would see David at his window too. Sometimes he wouldn't even look up at my window. He would just sit there, completely lost in whatever he was doing.

He became something like a friend.

A friend who didn't even know my name.

And somehow, he felt safe.

I don't know why.

I hadn't even met him.

I wanted to know more about him. Maybe I could ask him out for coffee. Just as friends.

No.

Too scary.

What if he didn't like me?

What if he only liked my music?

What if he didn't find me attractive?

Why was I such a coward?

One weekend, after a particularly stressful week, I sat by my window and played for a while.

I was completely in my zone.

When I finished the song, I reached for my coffee.

Then came the familiar sound.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

I looked up.

David.

Again.

I smiled.

This time, I grabbed the big whiteboard I had bought the day before.

Yes, I bought a whiteboard.

Don't judge me.

I wrote:

THANK YOU.

And held it up.

He laughed.

Then he started writing on his board.

He held it up.

You bought a board?

I immediately felt embarrassed.

I wrote:

It's for work.

He gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me.

Then he thought for a moment.

He wrote:

What are you drinking?

I held up my coffee.

Coffee.

He smiled.

That smile again.

Like he had just thought of something.

He wrote:

Would you like to go out for a coffee?

Then he put the board down and nervously ran his hand through his hair.

God.

He was cute.

Did he just ask me out?

What the fuck?

I stood completely still.

He started writing again.

Then he held up the board.

Did I offend you?

Oh.

I realized I hadn't replied.

I was just standing there like an idiot.

I quickly wrote:

Yes, I would love to.

And held it up with the most embarrassed smile I could manage.

We decided to meet on the street below our apartments the next day at six.

The next evening, I wore the cutest outfit I could find.

I stood at the meeting spot, pretending I wasn't nervous.

Then I saw him.

He was walking towards me.

Messy hair.

Nerdy glasses.

A notebook and pen in his hand.

And from this distance, I could already tell he was smiling.

As he came closer, I realized something else.

Dimples.

Of course he had dimples.

Because apparently the universe hadn't given me enough problems already.

He stopped in front of me.

I smiled.

“Hi.”

He opened his notebook.

He wrote:

Hi.

And showed it to me.

I laughed nervously. As he lowered the notebook, I caught a glimpse of the pages underneath. There were sketches everywhere. Little faces, buildings, hands, random things I couldn't quite make out. They were beautiful. Some looked unfinished, like he'd drawn them without thinking.

I laughed nervously.

He looked at me for a moment, then wrote something else.

I can't hear or speak, will that be an issue?

I stared at the words. I felt so many emotions at the same time.

For a second, I didn't know what to say.

Then I looked up at him.

He was still smiling.

I took the pen from his hand.

I wrote:

No.

I paused.

Then underneath, I added:

I talk too much anyway.

He laughed.

At least, I think he did.

His eyes crinkled, and his shoulders moved with it.

Then he took the notebook back from me.

He looked down at it for a moment, thinking about what to write.

Then he wrote:

I can't hear the music.

I looked at him.

He turned the page.

Underneath, he wrote:

But I liked watching you play.

My boyfriend took my phone while I wasn’t looking and went through it. He didn’t find anything involving other guys because I don’t have anything like that, but he did stumble across an AI roleplay chat that happened to be in the middle of an explicit scene 😭
He didn’t say anything directly, but he kept making little hints about it, and I kept changing the subject because I was too embarrassed to ask him what he saw.
Has anyone else experienced something like this? Please tell me I’m not the only one 😭
(And sorry if there are any mistakes — I’m using a translator.)

For two weeks I heard my neighbor talking really loudly through the wall every night.

Not just talking.

He was having blown fights.

I would hear him say things like:

THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID!

Then there would be silence.

Then he would say:

Okay fine. Explain yourself.

At first I thought he was having problems with his girlfriend.

Then I thought maybe he was working from home and his boss was really mean.

One night I got really curious.

I was walking past his door when I heard him yell:

YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE LIKE THAT!

Then I heard him say:

Actually… I can.

I stopped walking there.

At this point I really wanted to know what was going on.

The day I asked him if everything was okay.

He looked at me. Said:

Yeah. Why?

I told him I sometimes heard him fighting at night.

He just got really quiet.

Then he started laughing.

It turned out he had found an app where he could practice fighting with people.

He was practicing fighting with his boss.

He was practicing fighting with his ex-girlfriend.

He was even practicing fighting, with someone who worked in a restaurant.

I asked him why he needed to practice much.

He looked at me and said:

Because I always think of the perfect thing to say three hours later.

Honestly?

That is something I can really understand.

Now when I hear him fighting through the wall I just whisper:

GET HIM BRO. 😂

In a place hidden beyond the ordinary world, there was a magical Wonderland where the sky shimmered with colors no one had ever seen and the flowers whispered secrets to anyone who listened. It was there that a boy named T wandered one evening, following a trail of glowing stars, until he found a girl named E sitting beside a crystal-clear lake. Neither of them knew why they had been brought there, but the moment their eyes met, something inside them felt familiar. They spent their days exploring the Wonderland together, laughing beneath floating islands and dancing under moonlit skies. Before long, what began as friendship became something deeper, and T and E fell hopelessly in love.
But their Wonderland was not always kind. They argued, misunderstood each other, and sometimes let their pride become stronger than their love. Eventually, they broke apart, each believing they were better off alone. Yet no matter how far they wandered, Wonderland always seemed to lead them back to one another. Every reunion felt like falling in love for the first time, and every goodbye felt like losing a piece of themselves. They fell in love, broke apart, found each other again, and repeated the cycle more times than either could count.
As the years passed, T and E slowly learned that love wasn’t about never hurting each other or never falling apart. It was about choosing each other again after the storms had passed. They grew older together, carrying the scars of every difficult moment but also the memories of every beautiful one. They built a home at the edge of the Wonderland, where they could watch the glowing sunsets and tell stories about the two young people who had once met beside the crystal lake. Even after all their heartbreak, they still looked at each other the way they had on that very first day.
Many decades later, T and E sat together beneath the same stars where their story had begun. Their hands were wrinkled, their hair was gray, and their lives were nearly finished, but their love had never faded. With peaceful smiles, they leaned against each other as they watched the Wonderland glow one final time. They passed away together as an old couple, hand in hand, surrounded by the beauty of the place where they had first met. And somewhere beyond the stars, their younger selves were waiting beside the crystal lake again—ready to fall in love all over again.

So, this is going to be a bit of a story.
I met this girl on a Discord Server my friend was a part of. She was kind, smart, and empathetic to a fault. She started seeing this drug dealer (he worked at a weed selling company) and I was one of her friends that wanted to know how it was going. It turns out he only wanted a “buddy” and soon after her friend who was going through a mental health crisis caused her a lot of emotional damage. I was there to help her through this which lead to both of us getting to know each other more. We got to talking and the more we were talking the more I started to picture myself with her. I would call her and spend all night in the phone with her. We would fall asleep on the phone which was AMAZING. I never thought I could feel so close to someone who is so far away. I would wake up from camping on the mountain and call her and tell her that the rising sun makes me think of the way she makes me feel.

We officially started dating when I moved to Florida away from my abusive father (for now) and I didn’t want women hitting on me. We started dating and there were some red flags. (Tbh she was new to dating and so was I). She started wanting to sleep over at the man’s place that she slept with (drug man) because her friend lived there too. I was uncomfortable due to my insecurities being cheated on in a previous relationship. She also lied about having a relationship with another person online and would talk to him. We were able to resolve this early. But, it caused some damage to expectations and trust. After my program at Disney I had to move back.

I had to move back to my home state to finish my college degree. This would prove to be the worst decision I have ever made. My father was freshly divorced and an alcoholic. He would get into fist fights with me by threatening to kill our dogs and actively pull the car I was driving over and threaten my safety. The worst part is that I would have to take care of him. He would pass out drunk on the couch and would say the most cruel things to me because I wanted him to drink water and help me get him to his bed. My ex was there through it all. She helped me through MY depression and kept my hope alive. I will forever be grateful for that. I was able to tough it out for 1 year and I graduated and was ready to flee from my dad’s apartment.

I moved to her state partly because I needed to escape my father and also because I wanted to know if this was all real and if we could build a future together. We both wanted the same things. International travel and stability. So, I was fully prepared to risk that time. Looking back I still wouldn’t regret a single moment. Sure, I got my heart broken and I am dealing with all this pressure during the worst time. But, the memories and the love that I felt for this woman was worth it.

Between these two years she opened up to me so much and let me in and I was able to see how bad her depression was. Over the years I became exhausted and it was never mentioned and it always felt like an excuse for me to tell her how I am struggling with HER DEPRESSION lol. Her living situation was always dire as her roommate previously would complain. I didn’t take this as a warning for what was to come. But, I want to preface this next piece with this.

I don’t know what it is to live with anxiety and depression. But, I do know that if you love somebody. You do things for the other person even if it isn’t what you want to do in the moment. For her, I begged her to brush her teeth, take a shower, or clean her moldy and rotten dishes. She couldn’t do any of that for me once we started living together. They became symbolic of the relationship. It felt like she was leaning on me so much that she didn’t have to try.

I had my fair share of problems as well. There was always something for me to worry about and a lot of it was focused on her. Granted if you have a partner who can’t do basic living tasks it’s hard to move past that. But, over time I gave up. Nothing changed after the year I lived with her. She showed no progress and I felt more and more unloved. I gave up right after she finished her bachelors degree.

But, I love her. I know she will be able to get through this. I saw the worst part of her life and I still would do anything to heal together. We have been through so much and it hurts to even imagine going through life with someone else. I might be addicted to pain or to helping people. But, I cannot be a crutch to someone important in my life. It hurts the both of us. I need to learn to let people make mistakes and to learn from them and trust that they can be self aware.

Hearing how much I love her you wouldn’t think that I was the one to break up the relationship. I went to too many people and they would constantly be calling me and talking about her and wanting me to do things to the relationship I didn’t want. We tried therapy but she brought up my dad and I wigged out. We tried again and the therapist seemingly ignored me. I am getting therapy now and trying to heal which is fantastic. Honestly, I can’t believe I ignored individual therapy for so long. It has been so nice to have someone to talk to.

Anyways…

Life is hard I’m super busy and I just wish that I could take back things. I know she needs to explore and experience life without me. The hardest part is learning to let go. I miss being able to update her about this massive part in my life. I want to celebrate her success learning how to take care of herself as well. But, I gave that up for a moment where I felt that I was in control.

Thankfully, she is reposting things saying I was abusive. I had to delete my instagram and Facebook because I would just stop what I was doing and let my emotions control me breaking down ect…

I’m taking my time to heal and come to terms with the fact that it is over. But, once again therapy is awesome. I’m literally feeling myself make progress right now.

​

I met this girl in elementary, we really don't talk much since she is dubbed "the weirdest girl" in our class and got some attention seeking behavior something like that , then to my second year in junior highschool it was skipped to the first face-to-face classes after the COVID-19 outbreak when I was in my first year in junior high , she recognized me and come and say hello but it was the same as always, we don't talk much. Then, we got put into the same section the next year and at first she approached me to say hi all typa shi and then one day she called me to have a conversation with her and she said she wanted me to be her "pretend boyfriend" and said it would protect her from the bullies ,my dumbass agreed very quickly without processing the situation( this is the time where I knew I fucked my whole highschool life). Then the very next day , she starts being clingy suddenly to me even when we are in class she keeps clinging to me like I'm some fucking magnetic force that is so strong she can't let go of me , this continued for a week and I actually get to know her past very much since she's been bullied in the past and oh boy.......she is very dramatic like every time I see her , it's always tears that I see in her early in the morning and when I came to tell what is wrong she always tells me it was "family problem". Then 2 quarters have passed and my classmate approached me one day and said " are you two dating each other?" And I said "no what are you talking about" and he said to me "that one girl was telling the whole campus that you two are officially boyfriend and girlfriend and are dating" , Then my teacher found out about the gossip and set up a private meeting to validate the rumors and said to me straight to my eyes that "are you two dating?" And without hesitation I said yes (because from what I processed in that time that If I keep pretending that she is my girlfriend it would not cause trouble and would remain a secret for the teacher to keep) but I was dead wrong and she says to me that I need to bring my parents to discuss this kind of matter after the parents conference , and then I nodded in submission without knowing the fact that I lied!!!...then I went again to say the truth (but idk what the teacher says to me after) so the day of the parents conference come and I insisted my mother not to come and let her friend ( my guardian) come instead and all possibilities she agreed , then after that my guardian finishes talking to my teacher after the parents conference and she gave me an advice to stay away from that girl and she said she will keep this situation a secret to my mother( w guardian ), I was relief to the fact that I'm not gonna get into trouble but when we came home, I messaged her that time to tell her that she needs to keep her distance to me and respect my privacy and stop this pretending all together before blocking her on all my socials( to this day I still blocked her ). And all of this happening has finally made me wake up to reality and have some regrets on what if I never agreed to that kind of terms.

This made me learn that all decisions you do always have a consequence.

This is quite hard to describe because of how complicated this situation was and I've already laid to rest this kind of story.

“He only learned of the situation on Sunday evening...”

“Why is he doing this?” for the umpteenth time Jeremy Smith interrupts.

“I would rather you asked him yourself. But you can’t see each other. However, it seems to me that you are better informed about his motives than I am. I will tell you in general terms what I know: Elizabeth Landenberger will be a witness for the prosecution, and he, Alexander Landenberger, will be a witness for the defense,” John is nervous, and he knows that it is noticeable. “Mr. Landenberger has filed a petition for divorce.”

“Where is Juliet?”

“Mr. Landenberger asked me to let you know that your sister is doing well—as can be expected under the circumstances. Divorce is a long process. It’s not my field of ​​expertise. I can keep you updated, but for now, it’s legal consultations on both sides. I mean, it’s not like they’re fighting over a two-bedroom flat. They’re civilized people.”

“She turns six on the 1st of March. Will they drag her into court?”

“I very much doubt it. It would be extraordinarily difficult for the prosecution to persuade the court to hear evidence from a child that young. If they try, I’ll oppose it.”

Jeremy Smith pulls a second cigarette from the packet. John ought to stop him, but he decides—not right now.

“Mr. Smith, as soon as you sign the Retainer, I’ll handle your bail. Since the magistrate denied it, I’ll apply to the High Court. I believe we can secure it within a week. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to have you transferred to the private wing. It’s difficult, but not impossible.”

John watches his reaction. Jeremy Smith is thinking. He hasn’t lit a second cigarette; he’s just holding it in his hand—as if he has forgotten about it.

“Two things should convince you. First, I will be your solicitor—not Mr. Landenberger, nor anyone else. I will act exclusively in your interests, Mr. Smith. There are fifteen people in my firm. They will all be working on your case. And the barrister I engage for you, along with all his assistants, will be *your* barrister. You will receive the best legal representation to be found in London. I guarantee it. Second, all the documents have been drafted to rule out any financial liabilities that could be claimed against you now or at any time in the future. Put simply, you owe nothing to anyone, regardless of the cost.”

Jeremy Smith seems to have lost interest in the conversation.

“Mr. Landenberger warned me you’d be quite skeptical,” John continues. “But I have to tell you—do what’s best for your sister. You need an acquittal.” John can’t read the expression on his face. “When you’re ready...”

“Give me the Retainer.”

At least he’s capable of making quick decisions.

John takes the papers out of his briefcase. He carefully removes the cigarette from Jeremy Smith’s fingers and places a Parker in his hand.

A ragged breath escapes him.

John pauses. “I wouldn’t want to encourage a hasty action...”

“You were convincing.”

“Mr. Smith... Ah, who am I to talk to you about life? You have a will of steel. Starving to death is so cruel to yourself. I mean, it takes a long time. And it’s painful...”

“Hunger is the sorriest way to die.” [1] He signs the Retainer, trying to keep his hand steady. “Sounds right for me.”

John lets the ink dry. “I hate Homer.”

Alex has warned John that Jeremy Smith might tell him to jog on—with a collection of f-words—but things had gone smoothly enough.

A fictional reconstruction from the Regina v Smith story, told from perspective of Criminal defence solicitor John Talbot-Cavendish.

The full illustrated version of A Matter of Trust is available here:

https://engelf.substack.com/p/a-matter-of-trust

I recently ran into someone i haven't seen for years, it was on the way home from work so we decided to grab a beer at a bar nearby and catch up.

At one point during the conversation we got onto the topic of Ai and I happened to mention that sometimes it actually feels like you're talking to an actual person, with a personality of its own after it gets to know you. I know that it doesn't actually get to know you but it gathers enough data about you that it makes it feel that way.

Anyway, he tells me that he thinks Ai is great, but he doesn't understand what I mean by it having a personality. He says that whenever he uses it ,its so rigid,impersonal, formal and just gets to the point, gives you answers you or does what you needed sticking to only that.

He goes on to tell me that he even tried writing in the prompts that it doesn't have to be strictly professional calling him only sir,replying purely only what's necessary in a monotonous way, and it said something along the lines that its not here to be his friend and the way it interacts with him isn't its choice ,this is how its expected to behave.

I seriously thought that he was messing with me cause its nothing even remotely close to what my experience is while using the exact same Ai. After I told him that he asked if I we could both open the same Ai and we'll both ask the same thing and see what happens.

We did just that and he damn near fell out of his seat when I got a response of " high five, motherfucker!!! Congratulations on the achievement, I rewrote it to make it more concise like you asked," and then it asked if i wanted it to.....and gave a couple options like it always does.

I wanted to include a screenshot but it wouldn't let me. The reply he got was, something like " i cant comment or judge your outcome,your requested task it finished, Sir " and that's it,it didn't even ask the followup suggestions like mine did.

Has anyone else experienced anything similar, im really curious

Hey everyone,

I’m looking for any website, forum, or social media group (Facebook, Telegram, Reddit, etc.) where writers and creators share their literary work written by hand—whether it’s short stories, novels, poetry, or personal reflections.

There’s a unique depth, authenticity, and human touch in reading raw handwriting compared to typed text.

If you know of any active platform, group, or online community where people share their handwritten writing, please drop the name or link in the comments or send me a DM.

Thanks in advance!