Eunuch story sister

I saw a picture of Charlotte earlier, wearing heart-shaped petty sunglasses. It made me think of the cutest thing and I just needed to share. My 7 yo daughter exclusively ( she's an adorable ginger) exclusively wears heart-shaped glasses, we call them "Lorettas" because of my sister. Whenever my sister and her bf have a datenight, they like to go as their tourists-from-brooklyn-alter-egos : Frankie and Loretta (we live in the south-eastern US) equipped with accents, and back stories and all. Loretta wears Lorettas, and whenever she buys a new pair for herself she always gets a tiny matching pair for my daughter. I think their datenight game is such a cute idea, and just wanted to share it with this sub.

Ok so intro and background info : I’m f16 my now ex is m16 going on 17 in one month. We broke up a week before prom, (may 3) on the night of prom we had consensual intimacy but after that the night was weird and he was weird. So then about two weeks later we got back together and I broke it off. Then about a week later I went over to his house to help out his mom because me and her are close and we have a bond. (We dated on and off for almost 2 years). So that day we came from school went to his house and as we’re in his house his mom went back to work and what not. So I’m taking out his baby sisters braids and he was being awkward and stuff but it was wtv then he started touching my boob and I didn’t want it and I told him no touchy touchy he said oh right sorry. Then after I finished her hair she went upstairs and I was drinking some juice and he was sitting infront of me in a chair and I was like what? He was like nothing. Then he started touching my thigh and stuff and I didn’t want it but this time I didn’t say anything all he asked was if I was in my period. I said no he was like ok. So then he put his fingers where they don’t belong then did that and when he took them out I was bleeding so fast forward cleaned up and went to the bathroom and I called him to pass me a pad and he was like can I come in I was like yeah he came in and then I was putting on my stuff. Then we switched I stood up and he sat on the seat in the bathroom and he was starting to do my breast again but before that he kissed me and I was trying to talk to him abt our relationship and he was like can we just enjoy this moment and he started to do my breast and take off my pants and I was like no I don’t want too he kept on and he was like one time please we never get to f like this and I was like No I don’t want to he turned me around and started to push my back down I was resisting his grip and then I was like No I don’t want to plus I’m bleeding to much. He was like ok lemme just put it in one time and so I gave in and was like fine I didn’t enjoy it and so after he did that I stood up after the 4 stroke and started pulling up my garments and was like wait what happen I said nothing I’m bleeding and I don’t want to do this And he was like oh ok. So then after I wiped and pulled up my stuff then I wiped his area and then I was like I want to talk and and he offered to use a spare bed room upstairs but I said no cuz I knew what would happen then he kept saying ok what if I just bend you over here and give you back shots and I was like No. I don’t remeber much after but then I ended up giving in and was like fine and he started to do me and I low key was abt to start crying cuz before that at one point he was like idk if it was jokingly but he said if you don’t you can’t leave mind you he’s bigger stronger and it’s a small bathroom so I was fine and I gave in. then after he started to push my backdown after turning me and around forcefully after me saying No again and yeah again then I finally put on my clothes he put my shirt on for me and finally we left the bathroom… I guess now I’m realizing it today what happened cause it wasn’t enjoyable at the parts of force after repeatedly saying no to him. But idk I feel like it was SA or assault or guilt trip idk but some feed back would be nice sorry for the long story.

Hi there, fellow imperial citizens!
I'm running IM for the first time. I've GMed DH 1st before, and various other TTRPGs.
The party is composed of a psyker (feudal), two administratum (agri and voidborn), and an infractionist (agri). The patron is a Sister of Silence who detests and seeks to exterminate unsanctioned psykers.
The patron is difficult to develop because I feel I don't have enough info about the Sisters of Silence beyond Lexicanum and the Wikia. This makes it hard to think of motivations and possible adventures or stories. I wanted something to do with witches and maybe Tzeentch or Nurgle also (CB has to do with Slaanesh).
I was thinking of taking some from DH 1st/2nd edition or from another game that is easy to adapt.
Any suggestions?

My “family” isn’t a family. I live with my birther(47) (the lady who gave birth to me). Her husband(44?). Her husband isn’t my dad (he died when I was 13) just to add more clarification ig. My little sister. And a “brother” (29) who I don’t claim. This “brother” has been jobless for years up until a week or so ago mind you. I’m the second youngest in the house (24F). They are weed heads and alcoholics and that’s where all their money goes. They have spent their last few dollars and have even begged people for alcohol when there isn’t any food/water in the house. Before when I’d buy food and let it sit in the fridge or freezer like it should be able to, they’d eat it all before I’d even get to eat it. Open things before I even open it. So now when I buy food I hide it in there as best as I can and they’ve been angry about this. To put into better perspective I’m also currently saving for a car, Ubering to and from work everyday and providing food and necessities for my sister because they don’t. I also have a dog that I fully take care of myself. So yes, when I buy food to last me the two weeks until I get paid again I will hide it so I can actually be the one to eat it. Sorry if this wasn’t clear at all or badly explained. It’s so much more to the story but ofc I couldn’t possibly explain 24 years of trauma in one post. But am I the asshole here??

Hi there, fellow imperial citizens!
I'm running IM for the first time. I've GMed DH 1st before, and various other TTRPGs.
The party is composed of a psyker (feudal), two administratum (agri and voidborn), and an infractionist (agri). The patron is a Sister of Silence who detests and seeks to exterminate unsanctioned psykers.
The patron is difficult to develop because I feel I don't have enough info about the Sisters of Silence beyond Lexicanum and the Wikia. This makes it hard to think of motivations and possible adventures or stories. I wanted something to do with witches and maybe Tzeentch or Nurgle also (CB has to do with Slaanesh).
I was thinking of taking some from DH 1st/2nd edition or from another game that is easy to adapt.
Any suggestions?

A way to cope has been writing out some of the stories of my childhood.. this has also helped open up forgotten memories.
I have started a book about my story. I am not sure if someday I will share the whole story, as some of it I am still learning to deal with.. but here is a start.
This is the worst it has ever been.
We had to push the dresser against the door, because the strength of me and three of my sisters wasn’t enough to hold the door completely closed. We had barely made it into the room.
“LET ME IN RIGHT NOW! MOVE THE DRESSER AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” The horrifying scream from my mother’s voice is penetrating our ears as we all snuggle into the corner of my bed. I am holding my youngest sister, only 3 maybe 4 at the time. My older sister is trying to calm my other two sisters, ages 11 and 13.
I whisper to my older sister, S1, “What do we do?”
“Did you bring your phone in here? Or was it left out?” She instantly replied. I had to think. I don’t even know the last time I had my phone, but that was when I remembered - My grandma was afraid of something like this happening. About 3 months ago she gave me a ‘burner’ phone. I had it hidden under my mattress.
I quickly ran to the end of my bed and picked up the mattress. I turned the phone on and quickly rushed back to my youngest sister, S4. It felt like it took hours for the phone to turn on, but once it did there was only one phone number programed in it. My dad’s phone number.
I didn’t even hesitate. The second I saw his number I called right away. My dad answered instantly.
“Hello?” He spoke.
“Dad, it’s C. We really need your help right now.” I took the phone from my ear and held it towards the door where the screaming was coming from.
“YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS WHEN I GET IN THERE!” Echoed into the phone. Without hesitation I hear my dad say he was on the way.
I set the phone down and held all my sisters. We just had to wait a little bit. We would be okay. If he could make it in time.
We continued to shake in each others arms, crying, hiding, trying to understand how we got here. Me and my four sisters were all baricaded in the room, yet mom was only saying she wanted S4. She didn't care about the rest of us, she just wanted to make sure S4 was safe. Even though the very thing we were barricading from was her.

The one that got away
So I don’t know how to start this but I meet this girl on a dating app and we were talking, everything was amazing even the first time we met up. She spent the night over because she was too drunk to drive home so was I was very hesitant because this person at that time was a stranger but we just vibe so well. After that day we just keep hanging out and exploring places in SD, I got to really get to know this person so well and deeply that we had so much in common, Music, ideas, etc. I started to like this girl so much but the only thing I didn’t like was she was talking to her ex still but for a reason. She had to pay him back for something which I thought It was totally fine but it started to get to a point where she was like “ugh he is just pissing me off and I can’t take this with him.” Also she would bring up certain things with him to me which I thought was weird to me because even though I knew they lived with each other about a two years ago and broke up a year ago. I never seen somebody talk about their ex so much even though it was all bad things about him but even still have contact with him. I would kinda tease her about it sometimes like “oh sounds like you guys are still together.” She denies it and says fucker I like you not him anymore but it got to a point I would say stuff like that out of concern which one day, we had a conversation about it and she said I would bring him up all the time. I never dealt with that before, so even though I know this is wrong I went on a the same dating app I found her on and was looking and I saw her sister friend at the time and I didn’t know the friend at the time so I swipe on her and we didn’t match but I get a call from the girl I was talking to and she was telling me how could I do this and everything else, which she is right I should of never done that. I just felt like she was so drawn on her ex and having conversations with him that I was going try and see what else was out there but after that we came to a agreement on just keep talking to each other. Months go by and we fall for each other, we aren’t in a relationship yet because I just feel so doubtful that it could work because in my mind she is still talking to her ex. She wants to be my girlfriend but I just kept telling her let’s wait because of the ex stuff, I didn’t tell her that but she got it. We have each others location and spring break comes, I don’t know what happened but my location stops working for her. I leave to go back home. She gets worried about not seeing it and wants to fix it and I tried to but it wouldn’t work for me even showing her that it didn’t but then I told her, I’m going be spending time with my family because I never get to see them because I play college football and she got that but it’s also my fault because I spent so much time with them and it was my birthday week so I got new things but I got crocs that had I heart N which was from my mom which represented my uncle who passed which his name started with a N but I kinda gave her slow responses to her so the break ends and she’s worried that I might have a another girl back home. I tried telling her I don’t but I wanted her to come over since I’ve been gone for a week and she had gifts for my birthday that past so everything was good but I had practice so I go to practice and I get text messages from my family friend telling me she is texting her on instagram and texting her on her phone. I couldn’t go back home to ask why she is doing that but after practice I call her and she is literally back at her house and telling me you lied to me and I know what you did and I’m done with you. She literally took an edible and drove home which I think is crazy but she is so high and I tell her on the phone which I was mad asf but had to keep my cool. What is going on and she says I have proof of you lying to me and I told her send it to me. She takes forever to send it but she does and it’s my crocs with the N and she tries to say my family friend is the girl so we go back and forth but then she realize that it wasn’t and says sorry for leaving and she also got in a argument with her mom but I tell her I think we need to just slow down we are just dating and you are doing these things. She agrees and we kinda slow down, after this she is still stalking my family friend but the spring comes to an end and I go back home. I hang with my friends back at home and she is still stalking my family friend, she doesn’t know that my family friend has a boyfriend and keeps looking at her stories and thinks it’s me so she jumps to conclusions and breaks up with me. I keep tryna tell her it’s not me and she keeps saying it is but we come to a agreement again and she asks me why do I still wanna date her when she’s done that and I tell her I just like you so much and wanna see where it can go more. You are the only one I want. Which is true and still is because this is fresh but about some weeks ago she tells me her ex and her been talking for about two weeks I didn’t know any of this but she already told him that she wants me and not him anymore but he didn’t wanna let go and she was just paying him back but he started to make conversation with her and they were just talking like friends but couple weeks ago he confessed to her about wanting her back and wants her to drop me and come back to him but they have a long bad history and she told him I’m not doing that to him, I want him in my life not you just move on and he literally pass out or something while driving because he wasn’t getting sleep or something and she calls me and tells me everything that went on and shit mad me so mad that she still was talking to him because I knew he would do something like that but he gives her a ultimatum of it’s either me or him and she told me that and tells him the next day I’m sticking with him. She couldn’t and wouldn’t go back to that place he put her in so after that I’m pissed off about that whole shit and keeping contact with him. A week ago, my family friends car stops working and asks me to take her to target get and I did because why wouldn’t I help so I do that and we are just laughing and talking then I take a .5 picture of her with my crocs half way in it and she posted it but next thing that happens is I get a text from the girl and she says fuck me, bye then blocks me on the phone and it hurt so fucking much like I still think about it and tried to tell her I wasn’t doing anything with my family friend but I was blocked. I start to post on my story and she just watches them and not saying anything and I don’t say anything as well but then she posts something about karma is coming for the people that lied to me and did me wrong which hurt because I truly wasn’t doing nothing. I didn’t wanna text her because I was still shocked that she would do that then days go by and she stops watching it. I saw she keep opening and closing her account on instagram so when she opened it again I like some new pictures of her then she texts and delete so I asked her what did she say and she said why am I liking her shit and I need to stop because my little girlfriend isn’t going like that like just being so petty then tells me I’m going block you on Instagram too so I started feeling that sad feeling and told her don’t let me just talk to you and I’m not even home I’m literally in a different state which was two days ago but I tell her everything that I love her and wanna fix it. I don’t wanna lose her but she tells me she isn’t changing her mind and I’m begging her because I truly love this girl but we come to some agreement of seeing each other Tuesday when I got back in the state so I text her and tell her my flight is going be late maybe let me stay over because I know her mom a little and her mom likes me so I said maybe I could do that and we can just talk but then she tells me that’s not a good idea and she isn’t doing that so I keep trying and trying but she says we can talk on the phone when I land so I said fine I’m cool with that. Side story when she did block me I had her YouTube still on my PlayStation so I’m looking at the music she is listening to and it’s songs that are just heartbreaks and I’m trying to put songs on her history and YouTube playlist so she can see what I’m tryna tell her but I don’t think she saw it but back to the main story. I landed and I was going to go text her I landed let’s talk but before I went on instagram to see if she unfollowed people because I just couldn’t stop thinking about her being with someone else even right now but I see she blocked me on instagram so I go to text her on her phone number and I was blocked. I had a whole letter for her and she hasn’t even seen it and it just hurts so much because I want this girl like she just matches me and it just happened two days ago so I am really hurting bad. I don’t know what to do I feel so alone but I just want her bad like what can I do and I know the story is everywhere but it’s so hard to type this out. I don’t know if anyone wants to hear all of it, maybe I can make a discord or something but I don’t know what to do and I don’t want nobody else but her

I’m currently 36 weeks pregnant. Up until about 2 weeks ago, I was having a normal, uncomplicated pregnancy. Long story short, my baby was unexpectedly diagnosed with IUGR, and my blood pressure randomly spiked. I had to take my maternity leave early, and was told I would probably be delivering my baby in the next few weeks. This really came as a shock to me, but I’ve been trying to handle it best I can so I can be prepared for when he comes.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I kept it a secret from everyone, even family, as I am a very private person and in case something happened early on I wanted to deal with it on my own. The first person who found out I was pregnant was my mom, who knew about a month before everyone else. She and I have a very hot and cold relationship and to be quite frank, a lot of my childhood trauma stems from our relationship, which we’ve been really trying to work on over the years. She has finally been going to therapy and working on herself, and I can see a big difference in her, though she has her moments. Ever since she found out that I’m pregnant, she’s been on “nice mode”, consistently checking in on me, making sure I know she’s there if I have any questions, and made the ultra generous offer to come stay with me for two weeks before and after baby comes to make sure I have the support I need. She says that she wishes she had that when she had her first baby because the first few weeks are the hardest. Without really giving it much thought, I agreed because it sounded great to have someone to cook and clean while I adjust to being a mom. I live across the country with my boyfriend, and our closest family is 3 hours away. The plan was that she was going to fly out about 4 days before my due date to help get everything set up and ready, and then stay for two weeks.
Everything was set to go according to plan, but upon receiving my recent diagnosis, and not having a definitive timeline of when my baby is going to come (seriously, it could be any time in the next few weeks), I have naturally been under a lot. Of. Stress. Biweekly ultrasounds, hospital bills, now being considered high risk, it’s a lot to deal with. My mom has been asking me about when I think my baby is gonna come so she can change her flight to get out here in time, which is just adding to it. The closest airport is 3 hours away and I don’t feel comfortable making a 6 hour round trip with me being so far along, so I have to send my boyfriend to go get her. I told her I wasn’t sure but to be prepared in case something crazy happens.
A few days ago, I was just kinda thinking about how much life is going to be changing in the next few weeks. This is my first baby, and I don’t know what I’m doing. But what occurred to me was that I feel like i would be overwhelmed to have my mom here in the first few days, because as mentioned earlier, I am an extremely private person. I weighed the pros and cons of having the help, and decided that yes, I do want the help, but I want just a few days for my boyfriend and I to bond with our baby and navigating new parent life, alone. Not even a whole week, just a few days was all I was asking for, and then she could stay as long as she wanted to help out. Not to mention if baby needs NICU time, or if another problem comes unexpectedly, I don’t want the stress of another person added onto it.
So of course, I called my mom to talk to her about it and break the news. All I said was I wanted three or four days with my baby to figure things out, and then she’s more than welcome to come stay. I don’t think it’s unreasonable at all. I thought she would be understanding, but the switch flipped (if you grew up with a narcissistic parent, YOU KNOW) and she got really upset really fast, and hung up on me after saying “if that’s what you want then I guess I have to respect your wishes”. 5 minutes later I got a text saying she cancelled her flight and doesn’t want to come anymore, period. I talked to my sister about it, and she said that all my mom has been talking about is how excited she was to come out and help, and be there for me to experience this milestone. So now here I am, conflicted, angry, and confused. AITA here??
TL,DR: my mom was going to come and stay with me for two weeks to help around the house after my baby is born, but with recent circumstances I changed my mind and asked for three to four days to bond with my baby alone with no visitors, and now she’s upset and cancelled her flight, saying she doesn’t want to be here at all.

“So, how much?”
I didn’t know Charles well, but well enough to guess that the grizzled hog farmer was a talented salesman. ‘No lowballs,’ I imagined him drawling, waggling his finger, and speaking over his exceptionally jutting chin.
“Three-hundred fifty for the land, the pen, and the house,” the man said. He spat, hard, and the tobacco-black phlegm stuck to the side of the fence post and slowly ran down the side in three rivulets.
“Then another twenty grand for the hogs. Two-hundred thirty-three of ‘em, not a large passel. Price of swine is goin’ up, I’ll tell you, so t’s the best I can give you for what you’s gettin’.”
I had expected to hand him even more money. Charles and his wife had a small operation, but big enough to matter, with a beautiful two-story farmhouse to accompany it nicely. I wasn’t getting a better deal anywhere else. At least not anywhere I wanted to be. I’d longed to live as a farmer in Tennessee ever since my family’s entire property burned to the ground back in the fall of ‘68. It was dry, and we’d just fertilized after the harvest.
Not a living thing was left untouched by the flames, not even my father, who ran back to get the horses after the barn shot up with a pillar of fire. We never found his body. Or maybe we did, but the charred dust of the barn, the corn, and the animals we called our lives and the blackened remains of the man that was my world were all reduced to ashes in the end. And when the wind came, they all blew away just the same, forever to leave me, my two sisters, and my mother behind.
I held out my hand to Charles and we shook on it.
It wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself. Not when I got my engineering degree from Georgia Tech. Not when I began work at a small engineering firm. Not even when I saw the hog farm for sale less than an hour from my house did I realize that was the world I lost that I needed back. My wife didn’t care; in fact, it brought her work commute down to forty minutes from an hour ten.
After we moved there and I began consulting part-time to make allowance for the time I needed to spend raising the hogs, caring for the land, and tending to my now-pregnant wife, the fulfillment I sought seemed that much closer. But only that. Closer, yet still out of the reach of my yearning clutches. It wasn’t until two years after I bought the farm, almost to the day, that the chips seemed to fall on my side with her.
“Micah?”
Jackie was calling from the cubicle over. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my own office space.
“Hey, yeah, did you finish the drainage plans for the floodplain you were working on? If so, I’d happily review and sign off on them.”
Jackie had come here a couple of years after I did. She was an intern at first, and everybody loved her cheery smile and sharp intellect, so she was hired on after she finished her degree. The youngest of our crew, she lived by herself in an apartment, but her lack of experience didn’t keep her from coolly sharing her opinion on matters of work when she knew she was right. And she was always right.
Jackie had always taken a liking to me in a way she didn’t seem to show toward the others. I never became sure of why she did, but I had my suspicions. Trauma and mystique go hand in hand. Maybe she saw me as broken in the same way she saw herself. After all, it didn’t take a psychologist to tell Jackie had her own skeletons in her closet. She just had that aura, the one that neglected children and broken adults share with each other. Nobody knew what life she walked out of and nobody cared. She did her job, and that was all the company cared for. But not me.
I turned away from my computer screen towards the opening of my cubicle and she was there, half silhouetted by the light behind her, staring me in the eye. Jackie trailed a finger down the edge of the cubicle wall, her mouth open barely enough for me to see her tongue flit deftly over her perfectly-aligned incisors. Ignoring my question, she continued.
“Your wife, I take it?”
She gestured with an outstretched palm toward the wedding photo I had framed on my desk.
“Yeah. Hard to believe we’ll be a family of three soon. Ha!”
I chuckled, nervously. Slightly excitedly, too. I can’t tell if Jackie knew that the latter was for what I knew was coming rather than what I had already said, but I don’t think she would have cared one way or the other.
“Say, she must be lonely waiting for you at home? I know that feeling. Being lonely.”
She took a step towards me and I glanced down at my feet. Looking back, it felt like an eternity, that looking down, that knowing what was happening and making a decision. It was a choice. And while it felt like it stretched for minutes, hours, I knew it was but a moment. Yet it only took a moment to make my descent into sin.
“I know it too. Well. Too well. She’s on a business trip - a long one. Say, I raise hogs. Prize swine, there’s good money in them. What’d you say about coming to see my farm sometime?”
It had been two hours since Jackie had left the farmhouse and was almost one-thirty in the morning, yet I wasn’t tired. According to my doctor, I have insomnia. According to my mother, I have “bad juju.” According to myself, well, I guess I just don’t feel like sleep is worth the trouble sometimes. That night, though, I didn’t sleep at all until the sun shone through my window in the early hours of the morning.
Living among swine never gave me a lot of grief before then. Some people hated the stench - my wife among them - but the manure never bothered me, and, come to find out, it didn’t bother Jackie, either. I would have asked if she had been on a farm as a child, but her demeanor and attitude told me that she wasn’t interested in the slightest in my life and that I shouldn’t be in hers, either. I suppose I wasn’t - not in the one outside of our affair, at least.
But that night, when the stars were out and shining like eyes in a limitless black sea, and when the wind rustled through the trees, a gigantic army moving across the land like a plague towards destinations unseen, I started to feel bothered in a way I never had before.
I had been sitting on the back porch in view of the pig pens after having just finished the chores. I knew I wasn’t drunk, I was only on my second beer, but sitting outside, half-empty bottle in hand, I suddenly wished I could be completely wasted. I’d never been one to believe in those types of things that you can’t touch with your hand or see with your eyes. The hair stood up on my arms and the taste of metal lapped my tongue as if a storm was coming. No, I didn’t believe in the things you couldn’t really feel, but I could sure as hell feel something now.
Unsettled, I was turning around to go get another beer before something caught my eye in the pig pen that made me glance over.
All of the pigs visible from this side of the house could be seen, through the metal fencing, staring in my direction. The ones who were blocked by the lumpy bodies of the other swine stood on the hind ends of the others to see. With their combined mass, the pigs strained the metal of the pen stalls until each stall’s fencing bulged out in the middle where the weight was distributed.
Most unique of all was the unanimous behavior of the swine. Not one fell out of sync. Each one, eyes glowing like headlights in the dark, bodies silhouetted against the light of the moon, was without noise or disturbance. Once all of the pigs were in position, they all stayed ominously still.
As I watched, one by one, hundreds of eyes closed, and a wave of darkness spread over the pen as no more eyes were open to reflect the light. I swore for a moment that the stars did too and that the world around me plunged into complete darkness, but I cannot be for certain, because at that same moment, I involuntarily blinked.
I say involuntarily because, frozen in place, the scene was too strange for me to willingly turn away from. I do not know if the same force that caused the swine to flicker their eyes caused me to do the same, perhaps a gust of wind - or of something less tangible - but upon opening them, the pigs had returned to their discord, with several having already gone to sleep. Deeply disturbed, I went inside the house and drank until the morning came and I finally found sleep.
My wife returned from her trip soon enough and without much ado upon her arrival. For the next month or so, the two of us were together, and our lives were lived without significant discord. None that she knew about, anyway. I never told her about Jackie and I certainly didn’t mention the times I saw my coworker after my wife returned, either. And while I did float an innocent question to her asking if she had noticed any of the hogs’ strange behavior, I didn’t enlighten her as to the motivation for my interrogative manner. She never appreciated being in the company of swine as it was, and turning her disdain into disgust wasn’t on my agenda.
Almost as abruptly as she had returned, my wife left, again, to be gone for the next week and a half on another trip. Probably best for her, too, because the hottest days of the year hit western Tennessee when she wasn’t there to experience them. And no sooner had she gone than Jackie resumed her nightly visits to the farm. Each time, she showed up without much notice, if any at all, and left just as abruptly.
Funnily enough, I didn’t care much. I felt no more and no less empty after she left than when she was here. So after I spent my days with my eyes on my screen and my nose in my boss’s ass, I spent my nights staring up through the bottoms of bone-dry bottles, faintly wondering if the path I walked down could’ve been just a little warmer or just a little brighter if things were different.
In spite of my catering towards my boss’s every wish at the office, he didn’t return the good-will in kind.
“What do you mean you’re asking for a raise?”
I swallowed and continued.
“I mean that it’s been five years, Glenn. I simply asked that my pay might increase to match inflation.”
My boss folded his hands across his desk and sighed. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at a couple of beads of sweat running down from his brow. We were in the heat of summer, and the air hung thick and humid around us. The office had air conditioning, but the unit was old, and the fan whistling away in the corner didn’t do much good against the record-breaking heat pressing in around us.
“I’m sorry, Micah. It’s just that you’re consulting, now, and… I can’t afford you those kinds of benefits-”
“What do you mean benefits? I’ve been here long enough I’m owed at least that, Glenn! What the fuck do you think I’m still here for? Pot lucks?”
That was the first time I had lost my temper at my boss; at least, the first time since he ripped up one of my drafts for a project several years back. That had been a long day for both of us. Now, Glenn sat back and scowled ever so slightly, and only for a brief moment, an indication that his inhibitions keeping his attitude in check were wearing thin. Nonetheless, he put on a smile, and chuckled coldly.
“Micah, look- you always were my right hand man, but you’re here so little now. One could say you’re more like my right thumb man, now.”
That was a long day too. The heat didn’t help. Somehow some bugs got into the office. Somebody probably left a door open to quash the heat, fruitlessly.
No wonder the AC’s shot, I thought to myself.
By the time it was the hour for me to leave, there were moths flitting around the lights, flies eating the stale food in the cafe, gnats alighting on every exposed surface in the office- insects were everywhere. I figured that door must have been left open most of the day.
Gotta be pretty stupid bugs, if this is where they want to be.
The time came for me to leave and I did so without a fuss. As little as I could manage, anyway. I took time to complete some errands and returned home, only to realize the heat wasn’t much less oppressive there than it was at the office, even if there weren’t any insects. If anything, it felt oddly empty without them, even after Jackie showed up. The rest of that evening was a blur of empty bottles and used cigarette butts littering the porch.
At some point — two in the morning, three, it didn’t matter — I was pulled out of my drunken slumber and forced into sobriety by a noise I could no more determine the source of than what I had eaten for dinner a year ago from the day. I sat up with a jolt and listened, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The sound, if it could be called that, was discordant, unnatural, wrong — and yet, I couldn’t remember another thing about it. It wasn’t a sound heard through your ears, a vibration in your skin, nor even a sensation of one’s physical brain; it was a thought processed through one’s sleeping soul, something that certainly cannot be described with words without diminishing the weightiness placed; without negating, in full, the sense of abject horror at its state of being.
I had sat atop that precipice between reality and unreality; sleep, the abyss, where devils absently play amongst the nightmares of men. I told myself it was just that, a dream, but I know now that the place I was and the places I was soon to go were gateways between the waking world and the one beneath it. Before I had time to process what I had just felt, I heard another sound, this one very much real, and resembling a dying animal. Slowly, I made my way out of my crumpled bed and opened the blinds. I almost wished, upon doing so, that I was back on the precipice.
Thirteen of the hogs stood in a circle on the lawn; how they had gotten out, I don’t know. Each stood perfectly still, equidistant from the next, and faced a quivering shadow in the middle of them all. I could make out faint features: a scraggly beard, a bottle- whether the man was a hiker or a drunk, I couldn’t tell. Nonetheless, he had wound up on my property, and found himself caught in a circle of pigs.
I watched the man’s motions and noted with rising horror that as he walked in one direction, the circle of pigs shifted to keep him at the center of the ring, and all the while they drew nearer to him. The man was clearly intoxicated now; it was almost half a minute before he stumbled, fell, and no sooner squelched in the dirt than thirteen squeals rang through the night and the animals blotted out his body from sight with their unified mass.
The man let out one scream but could manage no more than one. The ring was a blur of motion. I saw little but I saw enough; one pig reared its glistening head and I watched part of a scalp fly from its gaping mouth, arcing dark liquid as it trailed across the yard. Another couple chunks of meat rolled away from the pile and reached a stop several feet away in the yard; once the pigs were through with their feast, they broke off from the previous site, now nothing but a red stain on the earth, and gobbled up the pieces that had got away.
It took me the next four hours to get the pigs back into their pen, but I managed it. And, none had to be shot in the process, though I surmised I should come with a gun readied. A cleanup wasn’t necessary either; it was a hog farm, so it’d be getting dirty again soon. I considered another individual might find the stain, but there was no proof it was human blood, and I had no intention of calling the police out there.
That morning, my boss was late to work. I suppose that’s to be expected, though, when one has had their tires slashed. He was livid, and I didn’t correct his supposition that his ex-wife had committed the act, though I’m sure he would have loved another reason to fire me. After all, I was nothing more than a right thumb man.
The day had gone quicker and cooler than the former, and the low droning of the rain made the day seem just a little less lonely. Of course, I was slated to see Jackie that night, and after lunch I had left work, gone off to purchase more drinks from the local liquor store. I remember having gotten enough to fill the passenger seat of my truck, and felt almost as if the pile of liquor was a singular being, watching me; the silently judgemental friend. I had a twinge of anxiety, and half wondered if I was going insane; at that, I laughed.
The air was cool when Jackie got there. My mother always used to call that the first breath of autumn, when the reaper opened his eyes and cooed softly to his crop before the inferno was snuffed out by the frigid winter. As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to her words, but as I grew older I felt the cold in my bones, and tonight I felt it in my soul, a faint whisper of death like the mark of the beast. I watched Jackie’s hair whip to the side, a black flag in the wind, as she approached the house. On the doorstep, we embraced, and I recall she said she needed to talk.
“You’re an awfully successful man, Micah. And I know you’ve got a lot of money. Maybe you’re not wealthy, no, but you’re richer than me, and there’s enough to go around. It’d be a damn shame if your poor wife found out about me. No, I haven’t said a thing yet, and I know you know that, for the poor thing couldn’t take the stress and might just die. But I could say a thing, and maybe even a little more. And a nasty thing it’d be, too. I’d just ask for $1,000 a month, but times are tough, so I’m inclined to say $2,000 would be enough to keep my mouth shut. And, of course, we could continue seeing each other. . . if you’d so please.”
Some say they see red when they’re angry enough, but I still remember how I saw even less; the next five minutes of my life were no clearer to me than several brief glimpses of reality, interspersed by periods of unreality before the next glimpse. A scream, and then another. The thought: she’s got a knife. A bone snapped: mine, hers, it didn’t matter. Blood; spattered on the carpet, on my shirt, and the drip-drip of a glistening red globe, smashed in through the side like a cracked egg. I remember the silence before the adrenaline eased and I felt pain, and I remember the pain before the squelch when I issued one last kick to the body, lying on the ground.
It had been time for me to feed the pigs. Jackie usually helped me with the feeding when she came over, always with a coy look, and often it was short lived and I needed to finish the job on my own after she left. I was betting that she could help me again. Hoisting her up onto my shoulder wasn’t difficult, though I supposed she was lighter than usual. I stooped to pick up the last few pieces that didn’t come with the rest of her and took the two of us to our yard.
The part of the brain we, as people, already understand cannot possibly encompass every sensation which we, as people, feel. Scientifically, maybe- but that feeling that makes dogs bark at empty rooms; that makes cats stare into walls before jumping away, frightened; that feeling exists in humans, too. Call it a sixth sense, or ESP, it’s there, and I felt it when carrying Jackie. The birds had stopped calling, the trees had ceased rustling, and a low, droning buzz resounded outside the pig pen. It rose in volume and pitch, and as I dropped Jackie’s lifeless corpse onto the ground, it blocked entirely the noise of the world around me.
I didn’t even hear the thump. Nor did I hear the pigs, for it wasn’t until I looked up from her body, panting heavily from the effort of what had transpired, that I saw that we stood on the fringe of a gathering of the pigs. I couldn’t see if any remained in the pen, but I could see that at least a hundred gathered here outside the pen, all staring at me with glassy eyes and salivating mouths. Some stood on the haunches of the others to see, and many were covered in blood, having been left uncleaned since the events of the previous night. Even through the foggy daze I was in, my fear registered on a guttural level and, in horror at the unreality of what I was seeing, I backpedaled, eventually tripping over a rut in the earth and falling to the ground.
The next moment, each of the pigs had turned to look at what was left of Jackie. For a couple of seconds, they stared at her, and I realized that the droning in my ears had stopped, replaced with nothing but an ominous silence. That silence was short lived, for in one, unanimous, ear-splitting squeal, the pigs raced each other to the body, and carnage ensued.
The hogs in front no sooner reached the body than were ripped apart by the pigs behind them. Huge flaps of fatty skin hung in ribbons from the napes of their necks and blood sprayed in all directions as necks, limbs, tails, and extremities were mangled with the reckless abandon of a pack of wild dogs. I suppose that’s what they were; even if I treated them like domesticated creatures, they were animals, and they were out of the control of any constraints that civilization wanted to place on them.
The mass of flesh moved rhythmically and dripping bodies were flung like oversized rag dolls from the fray to land wetly and lifelessly on the earth. Occasionally, I would hear a crunch as bones were rent and snapped under the pressure of the fray, and squeals as the broken limbs stabbed through the fleshy bodies of the animals atop them. Hooves, teeth, and bones carved the flesh of the other pigs, and while blood and feces sprayed freely, chunks of gore rolled out of the fray like meaty baseballs.
The pleasant temperature drop had undone itself, as the wind had stopped blowing, and the stench of the scene hung thick in the hot and heavy air of late summer. I vomited, over and over, bent over in the shit and the blood, eyes watering from the smell, and blood dripped from everywhere on my body. It ran off my body in rivulets and pooled around my feet. Some was mine, but more was Jackie’s, and more yet was the remains of the pigs. Blood dripped from my mouth onto the dirt, and I could no longer tell if I was looking up towards the cruel stars, down at the earth, or witnessing the slaughter before me, for my sight was veiled by a coating of blood, and my senses were clouded by the rush of adrenaline, though I could do nothing but sit in shock.
Breathe.
A chunk of meat smacked me in the shoulder.
Breathe.
An ear bounced off of my forehead.
Breathe.
An opened artery sprayed blood across my face in a line.
Breathe.
My eyes recognized four pigs on the fringe of the conflict abandoning their course for what was left of Jackie and I saw turn to me, each foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. I saw two get ripped away by two other pigs, but the remaining couple charged. The one that reached me first clamped its maw around my leg not a moment before the next reached it, bit into its neck, and thrashed it back and forth.
I couldn’t hear my own screams above the countless squeals of the hog pile and the constant wet ripping that resounded through the dark sky. Eventually, the pig that had bit me gave out with a squeal, but not before the lower half of my leg was snapped with one, final pull, and the pig behind then buried its face in the body of the dying hog before being dragged back into the conflict by another. I failed to even hear my cries of pain over the sounds of the fray; I knew I screamed only from the burning in my throat.
Breathe.
A second later, I was thrown by the arm and crashed against the soggy earth several feet away from the conflict. For a moment, I wondered if I was alive, or if the world I was seeing around me was really Hell, and I was a damned soul being punished for my sins. At that, I blacked out, and entered a timeless, dreamless slumber that sent the world back into the buzzing mayhem I had felt before the carnage.
I opened my eyes some brief time later to find that the buzzing persisted in my ears while awake. Perspiring heavily from the heat, I found I was lying on my back on the ground, facing the burning remains of my house. The buzzing was really the rush of flames lapping at the sky and the crackling of embers as the roaring fire pulled them out of sight.
“Swine,”
The voice, which rang impossibly clear in the noise of the night, above the roar of the inferno and the sounds of the approaching sirens, had come from but a few feet behind the back of my moist head. Even after all that had transpired, the word made my hair stand on end, for it was spoken with a voice that could snuff out the stars if it were to say that they ought to stop shining.
I turned my head to face behind me, groaning sharply from the pain, to see a man atop a mountain of hundreds of mutilated hogs. The pile ran with a constant stream of blood and feces, which dripped slowly over the terraced stack of corpses to form a small lake underneath, the edge of which lapped my face with miniature waves of gore.
“. . . they never learn.”
Then, the man smiled, and I realized with horror that his legs resembled those of ruminants.
And atop his head rested two ebony horns, glistening in the moonlight.

I’m back again to ask for advice and not so much a story time. I’ve found myself in quite the pickle. If readers aren’t up to speed, please go back and read my post from last year. I inherited my late grandparents home after my Mammie passed away in late 2022. In early 2023, I changed the locks, got all utilities transferred over to my name. My dad was understandably miffed that he didn’t inherit the home, but he’s known since I was 9 years old when my grandparents deeded the home to me.
I’ve had a very rocky relationship with my dad over my 31 years. He has poor taste in women, and turned a blind eye to the abuse I endured during the years I lived with them. She has 4 children from a previous marriage. 3 of which are one wellfare and get constant handouts from them. When I left my home at 18 I was on my own financially and went to pursue a degree I have yet to complete 13 years later. I’m married and have started my own family now. We do quite well all things considered. My husband is in a professional field and I have an Etsy store where I make designed products for book lovers and plant parents.
Given these facts, her children decided to insert themselves and tell me I owe it to my dad and stepmother to live in my late grandparents house. I did not cave to the notion. It’s mine. I am now in the process of selling my house so I can live in my inherited home. It needs major renovations in terms of plumbing, electrical and cosmetic. I’m in contract with a realtor and we will be moving mid June.
My dad has offered to help us move. I was open to the idea. Without asking me first, he purchased a SW one way ticket to FL to help us move. That wasn’t what bothered me. It was how fast things have escalated. In the last week, he has dropped a bomb on me that he is “finally leaving my step mother.” We’ve all heard this song and dance before. I admit to all the trauma and abuse I suffered from her emotionally, mentally and physically, only for him to show up with her without warning months or years later. It’s jarring to say the least and frays on my mental health. But apart of me holds on to hope. I want to blame her but ultimately he is also complicit in allowing it.
Then within twenty four hours of announcing his secret to leave her, he is asking if he can stay in one of the spare rooms at my late grandparents house (his parents) while he finds another RV to park on his land that joins mine. He wanted to arrive in KY a week before the move, and do pest control and prep the house before we get there. While we wait for our FL to sell, we were going to stay in my inherited house. When it sells we will move out and start renovating with the cash from the FL home sale.
I’ve been keeping my aunt and uncle in the loop who has a home next door that’s been unlived in for 4 years. They bought another home 30 minutes away closer to my uncles work. They have two daughters in college. I offered to rent their home next door while we renovate as it would be beneficial for all parties. The county we are moving to doesn’t have a lot of rentals available. I want my daughter in school there because my Aunt works at the school she will be attending. I can also keep an eye on contractors. My family wants nothing to do with him. When I was growing up, I was gas lit into thinking their behaviors were okay. My grandparents and aunt and uncle never stopped fighting for me and showing me love. They’ve lived through these things as adults and have very hard opinions on my father. They are cordial with him, but do not rub shoulders, do holidays or even dinners with him. Not since I left the home at 18 anyways.
But now I’m at an impasse with my family. They do not feel comfortable with my dad moving up there, and circumstances have changed throwing a wrench in their plans. My dad is very charming. But he has also committed fraud and theft from him parents over the years and no one trust him. I’m not upset with my aunt and uncle for reneging on our arrangement. They fear him getting into their house and taking from them. But I am 3 weeks from our move and I’m panicking. This move was about finding my peace and financial freedom living debt free. I’ve kept my dad from arms length all these years putting states and states of distance between us, only for it to go down the drain in one of the biggest milestones in my life.
He says he wants to help. I want to believe him. There’s still that little girl inside that yearns for her father’s attention and love that he so freely gave to my step sisters. He didn’t attend my wedding because he was at a gun show. My daughter was two months old before he met her. He was miffed my mom came down to help after I gave birth and decided he would pitch a fit. As the old saying goes, he has that “my way or the highway,” mentality. There are so many red flags going off right now, and it’s cost me a very lucrative living arrangement. The cost to rent next door was far cheaper and closer than having to go to neighboring towns and cities to rent. I’ll have to commute 30 minutes to the house and school daily. If you are familiar with rural areas, you understand the conundrum. I can make do, but I feel defeated in a way. Conflicted.
I want an honest relationship with him but I’m afraid of him hurting me again or my daughter. She’s 8 years old and is very frank about her distain for him. Somehow she has more wisdom than myself. Am I opening up a can of worms that I’ll regret? I still feel emotionally drained from how the will played out and his reaction. He basically got nothing but a bunch of stipulations on 12 acres. No alcohol, no trailers long term, not bringing my stepmom’s family to live. I don’t know if it would hold up in court. He tried to manipulate me when I said there wasn’t a key to get into the house. He said he guessed he would pitch a tent outside because he can’t afford to eat a $124 southwest flight. If that’s the case, how the hell will he afford RV hookups on virgin land in addition to purchasing a used RV?
Do I pull the plug now and go no contact? Do I forgo moving all together? I hate Florida, the cost of living is insane and my property taxes and insurance have gone up. I only moved her for my mom. I do love my home right now but the way the economy is I feel the need to get out from under my mortgage before it’s too late. Interested to hear the worm army’s thoughts and the OK OP fam. When you read my story last year I felt so validated but this situation seems to have gotten much more complicated.

Brothers and sisters I am really struggling and have no one to vent or talk to so please excuse my long story
I was very young when I deployed to South America with a counter narcotics mission for 6 months. What I saw and was involved in still cripples me to this day almost 10 years later. It wasn't necessarily blowing up ships or seizing drugs but the image of the prisoners we took onboard from these missions. How we treated them and what they had to endure haunts me. Sitting chained together, white tyvex suits, on the open side of the ship in 100+ degrees on the steel deck, going to the bathroom in a bucket out in the open, getting hosed down for showers, getting sprayed by the ocean constantly and some of which had tuberculosis and we still put them next to each other, for sometimes weeks until we could pull back into port. Listening to others talk about how disgusting they are and how they hate being near them. Mind you many of these prisoners are not seasoned criminals and some are just trying to find money to feed there families back home. Some are forced by the cartels.I imagine the choice between your families starvation and smuggling drugs is an easy choice when it's all you have left. But now Everytime I look at my kids I feel so much guilt about how we ruined someone's family, and those fathers will probably never hear or see their kids ever again. I don't have to tell you how bad south American prisons are and the fact that they have to live there lives and possible die in there crushes me when all they were trying to do was provide. Some of these prisoners were the same age as me at the time. I feel guilty for even considering myself a disabled veteran and getting disability every month makes me feel worse. I have nightmares, panic attacks, avoid places, I can't enjoy anything. I feel like I'm not allowed to enjoy anything because of what I was a part of, like I have to suffer to make up for what we did. I have tried everything at the VA. Tms, every anti depressant, therapy and nothing's helping. A large part of me feels like a pansy and I'm a little embarrassed to share but it feels good to vent about this as I never have the chance.
I was hoping for some advice on what you guys think I could try to help. The doctor says I have PTSD but I don't want to believe it. I need to get better for my kids. Thanks.

When i was around 13, female, my sister, 14, ill call M for the story, had already been diagnosed with many disorders; bipolar personality, depression, anxiety, anger management disorder, adhd, odd, and more. My parents had left me, my oldest sister, 19, S, and M alone in our apartment. i have no clue what started the argument but only a few minutes in were things starting to get bad. S and M had been yelling at each other, both using the past to defend themselves, but M wasnt having it. She had tried to walk out of the apartment door and S blocked her, S is the smallest out of all of us she always has been, M is the bulkiest… or fattest, im the skinny tall one. S has this idea in her mind that she can beat M in a fight and if they were to fight she could easily to M to the hospital, but M is way too much, too much anger and strength to not be able to win so we were lucky they hadnt fought at the door. After M threw a fit and walked away for a minute, me and S were standing in the kitchen, not even speaking when she comes out once again and heads straight to the door, S blocks her again and M starts to say a lot of shit. I was usually the one to stay quiet while M argued with anyone, she would always go too far, calling our mother selfish names and hitting her a few times, M has also had the cops called on her for becoming too aggressive, and was even put in a program. at this point in the argument i had started to speak up, calling M out for shit she has done when she says “yall are the reasons i cut myself.” as soon as she said that i cried, to be told that by youre own sister is a crazy thing to experience. S got more pissed and eventually broke her pinkie while punching a wall. M had went for a walk, though we werent supposed to let her leave.
a few months later we moved to a house, M was still an angry person and had already argued with my mom about 2 times. The third argument happened in the morning, me and M had to go to school, we went to different schools since she was in alternative schools, but she didnt want to go and started up with my mom again. it escalated to the point where the cops were called, this is the second time theyve come to the house, and i watched as she threatened the p.o, fought against them, and eventually on the ground with handcuffs on. they walked her out and S drove me to school. the p.o she assaulted didnt do anything against her and she was simply put in a mental institution for 2 days, keep in mind shes been in the institution multiple times already. Just a few weeks after that, another argument with my stepfather, L, mother and M had broken out, M hit L and thats when they called the cops, when i thought that they had calmed down i went to my moms room, she was crying and still on call with 911, as M walks into the room she sees this too and starts to cry, begging my mom to hang up. me and my mom were standing by the bathroom so we walked in there and locked ourselves in while L was hiding her electronics. M was pounding on the locked door and there was a few times i thought it would break. when the cops showed up she fought against them again and this time she had to go to court, she was put in an anger management institute for 2 weeks i think.
even after all this happened my sister still never really stopped fighting and eventually i got to the point i was tired of it, i started to ignore her and keep my distance, when she started an argument with me she got mad and asked how she hurt me, i told her the truth(a sum up of whats above) and she got upset.
so am i the asshole?

English is not my first language, so please feel free to correct me
I (25, female) am part of a friend group with four other girls (Nayla 25, Laura 24, Laila 29, and Anna 27). Anna and Nayla are sisters, which is relevant to the story.
Nayla is getting married, so we recently celebrated her bachelorette party. I was part of the planning group along with Anna, Laura, Laila, and another friend (Hannah 26). However, Laura wanted to control everything, so there were many plans we were not involved in because she didn't include us, only asking for money. We ended up spending about $500 per person in the planning group plus about $150 from the other participants. That means a total of approximately $3100 for her bachelorette party because Laura insisted we rent a house for three days.
However, my other childhood friend was getting married on one of those three days, so I attended her wedding. Hannah did the same because her family member was getting married. We informed the others in the group, who repeatedly told us how disappointed Nayla would be. One evening, Anna called the group and scolded us for half an hour because we were attending a wedding on the second day. She specifically addressed me, saying that I have known Nayla since kindergarten. I told her that I would be there all of the first day, half of the second day, and all of the third day. I also said that this was not a conversation I should be having with her but with Nayla if she felt the same way when she found out. However, they didn't stop and continued to text, asking me to cancel my other childhood friend's wedding.
Skip to the first day of the bachelorette party. Anna called early in the morning to ask everyone to arrive exactly on time to help decorate. I arrived ten minutes early, but everyone else was thirty minutes late, meaning I had to wait for forty minutes. When we were about to drive, I was told they didn't want to ride with boring people. So, I ended up in a car alone, and Hannah ended up in a car with two people she didn't know. I ended up parking my car at home and joining another car with two people I didn't know because they offered me a spot.
At dinner, Nayla asked which wedding Hannah was attending, even though Hannah hadn't told her, indicating that the others had told her we had to leave on the second day. After dinner, Anna decided to go home for the rest of the day and only came back on the second day.
When we drove to the rented house, I was there earlier with Hannah and another person. We were supposed to surprise her at the house, but she was in another car with Laura and Laila. Everyone else who attended had gone home because they couldn't take three days off their calendar. When Nayla arrived at the house and we yelled "surprise," she asked us to stop and then gave us the cold shoulder. We all went to bed, where they forced Hannah to sleep with Laila, whom she had just met, even though I offered to sleep with her because I had met her more times than Laila had. However, the others were not interested in that, even though Hannah was clearly uncomfortable. While I was lying in bed, I could hear Laura and Nayla in the other room talking badly about me and practicing what they would say when Nayla officially found out I had to attend a wedding the next day.
On the second day, I got up at 6 am, even though we went to bed at 3 am, because I was writing my master's thesis due in two weeks and a research article due to be published in three months. The others woke up at 12 pm because Anna came with her baby and scolded me for not having made breakfast yet (which I hadn't done because the others were still sleeping). Then everyone woke up and started making breakfast while Anna went into a room with Nayla to talk badly about Hannah and me.
Later that day, I told Nayla I had to go to a wedding. She began scolding me in front of everyone, saying all the things I had heard her practicing with Laura the night before. I told her that I was glad she was sharing her frustrations with me, but I was not interested in having the conversation with an audience. However, she was not interested in talking to me alone.
When I was about to leave, I gave everyone a hug and said, "See you later." Nayla, Anna, and Laura told me that if I couldn't be back before 12 am, I shouldn't come at all. They knew that was impossible because of the driving distance. Nayla ended up sending me passive-aggressive messages all night.
On the third day, Hannah called me and asked if I dared to go to the brunch we had planned. I told her I was nervous but was getting ready to go. Additionally, my boyfriend's sister had gone into labor, but I still chose to attend the brunch. Hannah asked if we should go together because she was also nervous. We ended up being five minutes late because Hannah's husband was sick and needed some medication. When we arrived at the café, only Laura, Laila, and Nayla were there. They didn't greet us but said they had ordered shared food for the three of them and that we "could do whatever we wanted." Hannah and I ended up ordering food to share.
The others ignored us when we spoke to them and only talked to "us" once when they asked Hannah how the wedding she attended the night before was. After an hour, they said they were tired and wanted to go home. They ended up going to Laura's place to try on bridesmaid dresses without Hannah and me, even though we are also bridesmaids and had agreed to try on the dresses together the following weekend.
I found it a very unpleasant experience, and I am very disappointed with how my friends treated me. Everyone tells me I shouldn't attend the wedding and should drop the friendship. However, I am unsure. What do you think? - This is not the first time they have treated me poorly.

I know I should have been ecstatic.
My mother’s eyes swam with gratitude and yet mine were always cast to the ground, burning holes into crayon-ridden patches of carpet we refused to clean. We’d barely dared to dream during those silent dinners without Willow, the jarring sound of clumsy cutlery echoing through our now too-empty house, conversation seeming pointless without her skipping around the dinner table begging for the attention I gave her too little of, thumbs ghosting over my phone instead.
I want to reach back in time and wrench my head from my shoulders when I think of her begging to show me a cartwheel, watching myself roll my eyes instead of grabbing her up and memorising her face because she would be dead soon. Days of torture turned to weeks and Willow was gone, lost to someplace only our terrible imaginations could conjure up. She was dead but we were ghosts, haunting our own house with pale apparitions of ourselves, eating to live and speaking only to fill the silence. She was colour and the world redrew itself in black and white for the three of us. Life was over.
Until it wasn’t.
The news she was missing had never really caught on outside the walls of our little town, so when the local policeman came to our doorstep, it was without fanfare. On the very first day she vanished, the officer leading the investigation found a small pair of gloves - her gloves - by the treacherous river that wound through the woods. To them, the investigation was over before it even began, no need to alert the press or sully the town with sad posters. The world chugged along without us, utterly unbothered, and we crumbled into thousands of pieces.
But, as the rain-soaked policeman uttered on a Tuesday evening, Willow had returned, found in a patch of woods smeared with mud and blood and asking to come back to our home. She led the police to this house, and as everyone yelled in unison, she's back. It’s what my parents choked out in desperate, relieved sobs I’d never heard fill our house up before. It’s what all the paperwork stated, endless days of making sure everything was above board.
It seemed I was the only naysayer staring into this girl’s eyes and knowing with every fibre of my being that this was not my Willow sitting cross-legged on our family sofa. She looked like her - eerily so. But it was off, it was wrong. Her chin a little too pointy, her gaze a little too cold. She was not my bright, bubbly little sister dressed head to toe in pink.
But she said she was. She said it with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, eyes which sparkled just a shade or two off Willow’s. Her voice was a semitone lower, but that’s because it’s been two years and voices change, my mother insisted. Her chin-length hair now flowed far past her shoulders in that same chocolate hue, a length Willow would gasp at if she saw. This stranger wandered straight into our house, pulled on my sister’s too-small clothes and played pretend, pulling the strings on everyone but me.
The first night was something out of a horror movie, the heaviest sense of dread settling like lead in my stomach. Bile rose into my throat as she skipped into the living room, settling herself in Willow’s seat and tugging impatiently at the hem of my sister’s favourite dress. I’d bought it for her on a spontaneous shopping trip, watching her eyes light up at all the little sunflowers lining the collar. She’d been giddy, and now a stranger’s fingernails dug into the fabric, leaving marks I’d never get rid of. No longer would that little dress smell like Willow, because it was going to smell like her.
“Come to the table,” my mother insisted in a too-jovial tone, eyes more alight than I’d seen them in years. My father nodded a silent agreement, perhaps a bit more muted than she was, and I had to swallow down my fury, my confusion. I had to. Six eyes bore into mine and the chair scraped as I sat down and this wasn’t my sister. She stared over her plate at me with a hollow smile, eyes devoid of any real emotion. Her fingers drummed on the mahogany, a disjointed rhythm I’d never heard despite sitting across from my sister for nine years.
“I missed you.”
Her words were sickly sweet, head tilted slightly to the side. Her gaze felt almost challenging, but my mother’s eyes brimmed with tears as she nodded vigorously, fork hanging in mid-air.
“Oh gosh, you wouldn’t believe-” she gulped her words down, overwhelmed, “you’ve dreamed of a family dinner, haven’t you, love?” she regarded me almost desperately, fingers trembling. And I had, of course. I’d cried a thousand tears for my baby sister, but the girl swinging her legs inches from mine sitting in my sister’s clothes was not the girl I’d sobbed for. When her foot brushed mine accidentally, thousands of goosebumps erupted over my skin because it was new, wrong.
“I’d love to hear where you’ve been,” I dared whisper into the silence. My mother gasped, fork clattering noisily onto her plate.
“Mr Matthews said-”
“Yeah, and if Willow ever turns up, I’ll keep quiet about it,” I snapped, eyeing this wild animal before me. She sucked in a mighty breath, and I swore I felt her gaze prickle me. But it was only seconds before her eyes became doe-like; wide and comical.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she uttered sadly, looking to my mother for reassurance. Her lip quivered, hands shook. It was almost laughable how overzealous her performance was and yet my father admonished me, snapping at me to leave while my mother gathered up the intruder in her arms, clutching at her so she’d never leave. I watched the family before me, new and being invented before my eyes.
As I left, she smirked right at me.
Nobody believed me. Not on the second day when I walked in and saw her doing perfect cartwheels in the living room, something Willow had been utterly hopeless at. She must have learned my mother chirped, scrubbing dishes so vigorously I swore she was leaving cracks. Nobody blinked on the third day when she locked herself in the bathroom and claimed to be too sick to head to the station to kickstart the rigorous medical testing. But it was the fourth night that haunted my dreams, driving me even closer to the edge I’d been dancing along. I’d largely managed to avoid her, other than the odd lingering gaze as we crossed paths in the hallway or a wry smile as we brushed shoulders.
Until there she was at 2 am, standing over me as I slept.
I didn’t scream. Didn’t startle her into dropping her soulless smile as she gazed upon me, staring straight down mere inches from my face. So close I could feel her hot breath on my nose, feel the animosity coming off her in waves. She didn’t move when I clocked her, didn’t take a step back or pretend to be doing anything other than pressing her face into mine in the dead of night.
“Why are you here?” I whispered, and we both knew I meant more than standing in my room. She laughed, a little giggle I’d never heard leave Willow’s mouth.
“I wanted to come home, silly,” she hissed back, breath tickling my cheek horribly. I swallowed, desperate not to show the fear which was beginning to course through me.
“You aren’t Willow,” I gritted my teeth and only then did she pull back a little, mock-hurt lining her features.
“That’s a shame,” she frowned, “You’re my favourite big sister.”
My hands trembled under the covers. “And how many sisters have you had?”
She paused then, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Oh. Lots.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt as unsafe in my life as I did in that moment, watching her eyes glimmer with something truly evil, a sick sort of pride. I didn’t find my voice for a long time but when I did it was small and timid, a shadow of my confidence from only hours earlier.
“And what do you want with us?”
She thought on it for a moment, tilting her head back and forth as though the question was funny. Even in the dark, she looked wrong, as though someone had built her to look like my beloved Willow and misremembered her slightly, getting the angles and details wrong. She lay her fingers on my forehead, painfully drumming that same pattern on my skin as all those days ago. Shamefully, I was too scared to move, even as her fingers jammed into my skull.
“I like your Mum,” she mused, giggling childishly as she caught her mistake, “Our Mum. I think she’s going to like me more than your sister.”
But before I could react, she was gone, skipping towards the door in the wrong nightclothes, only turning back to casually ruin my life.
“She’s dead, by the way,” she murmured into the silence, shrugging, “It was painful, too. Sorry for your loss.”
And she left, leaving me aghast as I festered in my blanket, desperately grabbing Willow’s teddy bear from beside my bed and clutching it to my chest. I sobbed myself to sleep that night, face buried in her favourite toy and knowing for sure that she was never coming home.
It only got worse.
One day, I came home and my father wouldn’t speak, only managing to stare at his new daughter as she smirked at him from the shadow of Willow’s bedroom. He startled at me in the hallway, scurrying back into his study. When I called for him, he shook his head. “Hang out with your friends, go back outside,” he’d ordered, voice cracking. He slammed the door behind him and that was that. I was left to stare into Willow’s room, locking gazes with a pair of empty eyes sneering at me from under the bed, dark shadows only giving me a glimpse at her little limbs all cracked at the wrong angles as she twisted herself to fit where she shouldn’t.
When I tried to speak to my mother, she grew more and more irate, once physically covering my mouth with her hand.
“Mum, please see that she isn’t who she-” but she muffled my words out of existence with a trembling hand, sending me a subtle no with a quick shake of the head. She pleaded towards me with her eyes but I realised quickly that her steely gaze had fallen behind me. I didn’t need to see the parasite in my peripheral to feel her gaze burning holes into the back of my head. And I wasn’t imagining it - my mother was fearful, finally turning back to me with a steely resolve.
“Everything is fine,” she murmured, speaking a thousand words with only her eyes and voice dropping to a whisper, “we will make it work.”
That night, the stranger wearing my sister’s favourite bracelet gleefully pushed a piece of paper to the centre of the dinner table, eyes lit up with glee. “I drew us!” she cried, greedily watching for our reactions.
My mother gave nothing away, only visibly swallowing as she drank in the paper, white-knuckled grip on her spoon. My father stood from his seat, striding from the table and slamming the front door behind him as he left us, perhaps for the last time. I, however, dared pick it up, regarding every horrific line and frantic scratching before me.
It was us. Except the people labelled mummy and daddy were standing without heads, rivers of blood dripping down their torn torsos. My double sat in the corner of the paper, a pair of gouged-out eyes lying on the floor next to my terrified frame. Our stranger stood smiling with a large rake in her hand, head bent to the side and wearing my sister’s dress. But somehow, worst of all, was the picture of a little girl crumpled in the corner, a frown etched upon her face. Willow the scrawl above her stated, and I could hardly bear it.
I don’t remember much of it now, just the screaming and crying, lifting whatever wasn’t nailed down and hurling it across the room, watching it splinter into a thousand pieces. My mother cradling me as she dragged me upstairs, letting me bawl into her familiar sweet-smelling cardigan, clutching her as though she’d leave me too. The swirling wrongness engulfing our house, swallowing us back into the clutches of grief. But my all-encompassing comfort disappeared because when that horrible little thing downstairs called a desperate ‘mummy?’, my mother went rigid.
“You don’t have to go,” I pleaded through bleary eyes, but her sad smile told me that she did.
“I prayed two years for my baby girl to come home,” she’d said in a thick voice, clutching my hands as if begging me to understand. I’ll always wish I tried harder to keep her in that room with me, because the moment I loosened my grasp, I sealed her fate. The thing downstairs called and she offered me a sad smile, fingers brushing mine before she disappeared through the darkness of the door.
I never saw her again.
Before my eyes closed and sleep claimed me, I saw the head of Willow’s beloved bear discarded on the floor across the room, three feet from its body. My heart sank into my stomach and I drifted off into nightmares, feeling somehow, it was all over. When I awoke, slick with sweat and dread, she was there in the darkest corner of my room. Almost-Willow.
Nighttime shrouded her but I could see the blood, even in the dim light. Something glinted in her hand under the glow of moonlight, and her eyes blazed with something bigger than the both of us. Twelve minutes passed and she didn't move, her relentless, empty stare locked onto me as she swayed back and forth.
I knew that the second I moved she was going to lunge. Somehow, I knew that’s what Mum did. That’s why the room fell into such uneasy silence, because I was utterly alone, and when I held my breath, I swore could I hear the shift of fabric. Yes, she was definitely closer to me than she had been five seconds ago. If I squinted, I could see her feet shuffling towards me, in time with my erratic breathing.
I ran, of course, limbs jelly as I sprinted past my parents' room, practically choking on the stench of blood. She locked all the doors, sealed all the windows. I don’t even remember how I made it to the hospital, sodden and picking glass out of my skin as a kind nurse led me to a room, concern etched into her features as she promised to return for me as soon as she called the police. It’s hard to type with blood trickling down my phone, fragments of the upstairs window jammed into my flesh.
It’s over, I’m sure. But somehow, with every second that passes, I feel closer to my sister. The real one. Not the one with her face pressed into the third-story window of my hospital room, face contorted in bloody, evil glee.

Hi, as you can tell from the title i need advice. this story is pretty complex so lets start with intros Im 15f and my ex partner 15m lets call him david, for reference we knew eachother 2 years and he had a crush on me those years. we started dating in December and broke up in april, david is the sweetest guy ever he’s christian,very respectful, and he is overall a good friend although we had a falling out which i never expected. david was head over heels obsessed with me and honestly i loved the attention, now you can judge me for that but im just a kid im sure he wasnt the “one” but i genuinely miss him as a friend. anyways let me get into the whys and hows so about 2 weeks before our break up one of my friends i had a crush on before me and david were dating told me he had a crush on me lets call him sam, well sam was a player he was tall handsome and punk. ever girl wanted him so badly including me, i had always swooned over him before i was with david, i ended up telling david what sam had said and said i would tell him to stop and set boundaries. sam eventually kept at it saying to send him nudes and other things these are all things i never hid from david, david told me to block him and i didnt. i should’ve but i didnt i just felt so special that the guy everyone wanted actually liked me. but in reality i really did love david and i feel awful for doing him so wrong. david broke up with me because he said i had been acting off and me in the trance of sam didnt even try to keep david. for 3 weeks i didn’t even think of david once, he talked to me about how sam had messed with his sister and thats why he didnt like sam, i ended up defending sam and bringing myself farther in a hole. i ended up dating sam for a week, david texted me when he found out and asked if we did it and i said yes. even though i didnt i dont know why i said that again im a kid and i made a mistake and im not trying to excuse it. i realize david doesn’t owe me an apology but he has started rumours that i cheated on him and i get it feels like that but i really didnt. i took accountability for what i did and apologized to david profusely and all he says is leave him alone and i do untill i break and i text him and he tells me im a psycho and all that, i have left him alone now but its hard sincehes so mad at something that isnt true. the guilt is eating me alive and i miss him so much as a friend. i know i am in the wrong here but im in need of advice and some comfort.

My sister posted a picture of me on her Insta story. I hate the picture because i dont feel pretty, i dont look pretty in it. I barely have control of anything in my life because im a "child" so i guess I shouldn't have a say in anything. On insta I try to have a little control, when I post myself I post what I think I look pretty in, what I look attractive in. Ik it's bad but I care how people see me and I want people to think I'm pretty, not my sister not my family because they would never tell me otherwise. I care about what other people think of me, it's not the best thing to do but I do care. The picture makes me look so ugly , so childish, so cute. I don't want people to look and say "aw cute". All my life I've spent being ugly never pretty never attractive, and that picture just takes me back to then. My friends, my classmates follow me and I honestly feel like I'm gonna throw myself out a window. It's dumb but insta really was the most control I had and I feel like that has been taken from me and it makes me ill. My sister just doesn't get it and ofc she wouldn't. I'm silly rn might delete later

I don't know exactly why I'm making this post, I just need advice and if anyone has similar ar stories to share.
My ex boyfriend with BPD and I broke up a couple months ago, he discarded and blocked me, but at that point I emotionally checked out of the relationship. Since the breakup, I've been doing incredibly well, reconnecting with old friends, focusing on my job, etc. I say all this to let you all know that I'm not necessarily mourning the relationship. Him leaving me was the best thing to happen to me since I've met him.
His sister and I are still close, she's low contact with him and so I felt it wouldn't hurt me to keep in touch with her, recently she let it slip that she saw (from social media) that he posted a ton of him and his new girlfriend. At first, I didn't care at all, but curiosity got the better of me and I snooped his account.
I was crushed to see that he posts pretty much mirrored how he used to post me, the gifts nearly matched each other ther perfectly, the same date spots (in weirdly the same order too?), and I even recognized the same PHRASES he used to describe me. I don't know why it hurts so much? I have no desire to go back to him, but I feel like I wasted so much of my time and emotions on that piece of shit.
We were each other's first relationship, and we were together for almost 3 years, I just feel broken knowing I never really mattered at all to him... It's like he sees our relationship/me as the test run or something. I just feel a sense of embarrassment for even dating him? If that even makes sense

I can’t stop thinking about my gf’s sexual experience with this one guy. We have been together for 3 years, and i love her to death.
Revently, a random dude dm’ed my gf asking how she was doing, she replied fine and that she now had me as a bf, all fine. The fire began when I asked who he was and she said it was someone she had been with at her 18th birthday party. They haven’t kept contact since that party and that was 6 years ago.
I could feel she didn’t want to go into detail about it, she began to laugh nervously and said it was a very emberrasing experience and that they didn’t have sex. Recently i found out that was a lie when she told me that ‘they barely even had sex’ On top of that she told me she was very drunk. Her story was that she met him at the party, thought he was sweet, went out back with him, but stopped in the act shortly after as this wasn’t what she wanted.
Her brother and sister has teased her about that perticular party a few times now, and i cant seem to understand why.
I have had literal nightmares about them having sex, and not beeing able to do anything about it. Because of this I have asked her a few times about him, but havent gotten any new info. She seems bothered whenever i ask her.
I dont think she is telling me the truth and it scares me.
Should i tell her about how im feeling?
TL;DR Dont think gf is telling truth about her past, what to do?

(English is not my first language, so I apologize for the writing errors)
Right... 2022-2023, some friends of mine were playing a DND 5E campaign, and I'm starting a new story, taking place a few years after the events of the 1st campaign.
There, two of the PCs were sister and brother. Ariana and Zachar. Zachar was always jealous of Ariana's magical power. He spent his life feeling like his mother's least loved son, feeling weak, etc. At the time of the campaign, Zachar gained the power of the BBEG, and became a villain. He killed his mother and tried to kill Ariana too, but was beaten and killed. The BBEG resurrects him, and a few sessions later, Zachar dies again. And it became a joke for the players, because he was resurrected many times, having more and more time, but he lost, lost and lost again. Zachar never won a single fight.
In this new campaign, Ariana has become the Goddess of the Shadowfell, and using this hook, I would like to resurrect Zachar once again.
My idea is that now Ariana has resurrected him to get revenge. Zachar must suffer a fate many times crueler than death. Something like eternal torture, making my players realize “Man... This is so cruel, even for a villain".
I really want my players to feel bad about him.
If you have used something like this or have a cool idea, please share it here. I would love all possible ideas of a cruel fate and hooks for it in a campaign.
Thank you all!

My story starts a few years back. My mom was married briefly to man we will call Joe. Joe was verbaly and mentally abusive to my mom and my brother and I. When I was 9, Joe got into the shower with me (he undressed, got into the shower wile I stood there covering my self as best I could and did'nt speak. I never told anyone about it afterwards). He was interupted by my step sisters knock on the door and got out. I was uncomfortable around him since then. Before he and my mom divorced, he attempted to commit suicide in front of my brother and I. We had to call the ambulance.
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After he and my mom divorced I never wanted anything to do with him. My youngest sister - we will call her Amber (under the age of five when they divorced) has cultivated a relationship with him since becoming an adult. She calls him "dad" despite the fact that he is not her father and ignoring the fact that she doesn't even remember living with him.
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My mom always had a problem with this and repeatedly asked her to stop. Amber refused. A few years ago Amber mentioned it to me and I told her everything. And I also asked her to stop talking to him. Amber has two small children and I expressed my concern for them being around him and also told her that it was a bit odd since she didn't even rememeber when he was our step father. This man had abused our mother and myself. Over the last two years she has continued to have a "father daughter" relationship with Joe.
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Two months ago Amber posted a "Happy Birthday, Dad" post to her socials giving Joe credit for "raising her to be the woman she is today". My mom was upset and called me. I called Amber and told her that it really hurt me that despite my requests for her to cut him off she refused. I told her that she needed to choose between a relationship with me or a relationship with Joe. I also told her that I would consider her to be a bad mother if she allowed her children to be around him knowing what she knows. She barely contributed to the conversation. I ended the phone call saying "I'll take your silence as a sign that you are undecided. I love you and hope to hear from you soon"
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A lot has happened between then and now and this story, like all others, has a lot more to it. But this is the jist. She has not reached out to me one time. AITAH if I cut her out of my life entirely? I am conflicted becuase I value my relationship with her children but I don't know if its worth keeping her in my life. I want to delete her from all socials, my phone, etc and do my best to forget all about her.

*Reposting an old post with a more accurate title to increase answers.
So for background, it wasn't until l (m23) really matured and starting paying attention more - about age 18, that I noticed this.
If you met my aunt (M) today, you would say that she was the nicest person ever. She asks genuine questions, she holds good conversation, and she does very nice things for other people. My mom and my other aunt just can't stand her though. They say she is narcissistic and that my aunt feels like she needs to be the "spokesperson" for the family. My mom and other aunt(R) (f61) call almost daily and spend at least a few minutes to talk shit on my aunt(M). My grandma even gets in on it and talks trash.
I started noticing that they constantly talked behind her back around 3-4 yrs ago and I would make fun of them for it. If I noticed that they were talking, I would ask if it was about Aunt M. Or I would sarcastically exclaim "Ohhh isn't she just the worst!" My mom and Aunt (R) have explained some of the things she does but I still really don't think its that bad.
Some examples:
Today at a restaurant, my mom was freaking out about how my Aunt (M) shared photos to the Aunt group chat of a family contractors baby. For reference, they have all met this man once. Apparently in conversation it came up that the contractors wife was due around Aunt Ms bday. Aunt Ms bday passed last month, and today, Aunt M shared a photo of the baby. My mom was flipping two fold. First, because its a man that our family doesnt know and why should they care, and second, why was she even following up? she says she is narcissistic and only cared to see if the baby was born on her bday... idk, I feel like its just being nice checking in.
My family was in my college town for my graduation. For reference, I have lived in this town for 4 years, my parents lived here for 5 years before I was born, but Aunt M also had a kid that went to my school and has spent some time here. My mom and Aunt R had a field day talking trash about Aunt M all weekend, how she had to micromanage everyone, make restaurant suggestions, direction and driving suggestions, housing suggestions etc. Like I've said before, I just feel like she is being kind and trying to help. my mom on the other hand says she acts like everyone is stupid and tries to belittle them.
My Aunt tells my family how she buys chocolate for the flight attendants. I think its just showing appreciation for under appreciated workers, but my family views it as her attempting to get preferential treatment or to be seen as a saint.
I know its very hard to gauge from these one sided stories, and I kinda paint my mom and Aunt R out to be major jerks, but is this just a sister thing? I only have brothers and am quite frankly sick and tired of only hearing negative things out of their mouth about someone who I don't think is a terrible person. Any advice welcome. Thanks!
Ill try to edit the post and add more examples if I think of anymore.