This is what I think will happen and what I would like to happen in Winds of Winter.
North:
Stannis wins, but loses almost all his forces and in Winterfell there are no resources left, so he is forced to return to the wall leaving a few men in Winterfell. Ramsey had sent the false pink letter to provoke Jon, because Stannis used Theon and the false Arya as bait, making Ramsey go out with a few men to capture them (against the orders of his father Roose). Ramsey wanted to provoke Jon to make him leave Castle Black (knowing that Jon was his Lord Commander) and thus turn the Night's Watch against him. Ramsey eventually captures Theon and the fake Arya, but on his way back he finds the castle taken by Stannis, so he flees to Dreadfort. Jon is dead, and Selysse, upon learning of the pink letter, proposes to Melissandre to burn Shireen in order to help Stannis, and she accepts. By burning Shireen, Jon is resurrected. A second letter arrives, and this one says that Stannis has taken Winterfell but that he must return to consolidate the supply line (since Winterfell has no supplies to feed the survivors of his army). Jon, upon learning what has happened, with the help of the wildlings and those still loyal to him in the guard, imprisons Selysse along with all those who were part of his murder.
However, Jon decides to let Melissandre escape knowing that Stannis would kill her for what she did, and he does so because as much as it disgusts him that she burned Shireen, there is a power in her or her Red God or whatever that may be necessary for the war against the Others. Stannis returns and learns what has happened from Jon's words (I think this would be a very good moment to see Stannis in a moment of great vulnerability, to see a man like him break). Stannis decides to execute Selysse, and Jon executes all those responsible for his murder. Jon proposes to Stannis to join him this time as Jon Stark (leaving everything related to the Watch, including the Hardhome issue) to save Arya along with the help of the wildlings. Stannis accepts, knowing that the girl Ramsey has is not really Arya, omitting the truth out of interest. This time the North joins Stannis' cause for Jon Stark, and they march to Dreadfort. The battle of the bastards occurs, Jon, Stannis and Mance Ryder win handsomely saving Theon and Jeyne Poole (Jon realizing it wasn't Arya). This is when the wall is destroyed or the Others have somehow gotten through (as by Eastwatch freezing the sea itself). Jon realizes that he abandoned his guard and his brothers for nothing. (At this point the Iron bank funding comes to Stannis, but I doubt very much that it would do much good. Maybe for a large fleet in White Harbor, which would serve to evacuate the north to the free cities).

South:
Aegon conquers the Stormlands and marries Arianne Martell. The attempted coup of the Sand Snakes at King's Landing fails (Ser Robert Strong, the Mountain, protects Cersei and Tommen by killing the Sand Snakes). Dorne, the Stormlands and the golden company led by Aegon and Jon Connington invade Highgarden. Cersei asks Littlefinger for help in the Vale, and he accepts, but meanwhile Littlefinger agrees to an alliance with Aegon and swears allegiance to him if he makes him Warden of the East and Warden of the North through Sansa Stark, thus him marrying her (Robert Arryn dies in an “accident”). Aegon accepts because he knows about Stannis' advance in the North. Cersei opens the gates to the army of the Vale, and it sacks King's landing. Cersei talks to the pyromancer and tells him to burn the whole city while she plans to flee with Tommen. He obeys and begins the process. Then Arya (who has already had her development in Braavos) shows up and in some spectacular way from what she has learned in the Faceless Men kills the Mountain, and then Arya goes after Cersei and Tommen. Cersei begs Arya to spare Tommen's life, to kill her but not to kill Tommen. Arya then slowly kills Tommen in front of Cersei, and then kills her. The whole city starts to burn from the valyrian fire, but Arya escapes (She heard Cersei's orders she gave to the pyromancer being with another face, but she doesn't bother to stop him, she is totally indifferent about it). King's Landing ends up completely in ruins, exploding and burning everything and everyone who fails to escape. Aegon is left without capital and without an iron throne (Varys is also saved thanks to the secret passages).
Euron conquers Casterly Rock with the intention of plundering the gold and finds that there is nothing. In addition, Lady Stoneheart (Catelyn) kills Jaime in front of Brienne (who accepts because she swore to obey Catelyn, even knowing that Jaime had changed and still loving him, she does it out of honor). Catelyn leading the brotherhood without a banner kills and hunts down all the Freys, including Walder Frey, causing the riverlands to end in anarchy. Catelyn, for the intel she got from Jaime, goes to the westerlands to save Jeyne Westerling (Robb's Wife) in The Crag and Edmure on Casterly Rock (along the way she meets Brynden, the Blackfish). Once Catelyn saves Jeyne at The Craig she and her family tell her that they hid Robb's son in the riverlands, pretending that Jeyne had miscarried. She also learns that the Ironborn have captured Casterly Rock, where Edmure is. Catelyn is at the crossroads of going west to try to save her brother or going east to look for Robb's son.

Essos:
Barristan Selmy meets Jorah and Tyrion, and initially Barristan wants to kill Jorah for bypassing the exile but Tyrion intervenes and they focus more on finding Daenerys. The three go on an expedition in search of Daenerys (leaving the Unsullied and the Second Sons in charge of Meereen). Daenerys is trapped in the Dosh Khaleen, and Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan end up finding out somehow, so they plan to save her (Jorah knows the city will be deserted). After they are gone, Victarion and his fleet arrive in Meereen, and Moqorro sounds the horn after making sacrifices to R'hllor (thus avoiding his own death). Moqorro gains control over Viserion and Rhaegal. The Ironborn take over Meereen with the help of the dragons, and Victarion, not finding Daenerys, tells Moqorro that two dragons are enough and that they should return to Westeros. Moqorro objects, and then performs a ritual in his flames that makes him see where Daenerys is. Victarion, Moqorro and the Ironborn make an expedition to go after Daenerys to Vaes Dothrak.
The Dothrakis realize that there is an army heading towards Vaes Dothrak, so all the Khals go there to protect their holy city. Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan at first find the city completely deserted, but when the Khals arrive everything fills up and they must flee and hide. Then the Ironborn arrive, led by Victarion. The Dothrakis charge the Ironborn, and then Moqorro uses the dragons and the dragons burn them. In the midst of the chaos, Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan manage to reach Daenerys along with the other Khaleesis, but Drogon appears. Daenerys controls Drogon as best she can (he isn't under Morroqo's influence), and tells Jorah, Tyrion and Barristan to run away. Drogon then burns Dosh Khaleen along with all the Khaleesis. This is a catastrophe for all the Dothrakis, but then among the flames Daenerys appears. The Dothrakis consider this a prophecy, so all the khals prostrate themselves before her and join her army. Moqorro, Victarion and Daenerys meet, and then Moqorro gives the horn to Daenerys. Victarion objects, but being surrounded by Dothrakis and now without power over the dragons, he decides not to exert force also at Moqorro's persuasion. Moqorro tells Daenerys that death is marching on Westeros, that the wall has fallen. It is then that Daenerys decides to leave with the Dothrakis, the Unsullied and the Ironborn with Victarion's fleet to Westeros (it may be that the Dothraki went overland to the free cities and then embarked from there).
So, this would be in summary what I think would happen without reaching the end and skipping many things. Daenerys would take many months to reach Westeros, she would stop by other slaver cities to feed her great army. Meanwhile, the North led by Stannis as King, Jon Stark as guardian of the North and Mance Ryder leading the wildlings, would have to organize a massive evacuation of the entire North to below the neck. Thousands of ravens would fly. Jon, Stannis and Mance would be on the front lines fighting Aegon's army, being the golden company, dorne, the knights of the valley, what's left of the stormlands and probably also part of the tyrell (who I assume would eventually surrender to Aegon). Stannis' conquest to the south would not so much be a war as a desperate flight, Aegon would not believe anything about the others and would see Stannis only as the brother of the man who killed his father. Aegon's army is much larger, has far more supplies (the north is in ruins) and his army of far, far higher quality (the golden company and the knights of the valley are some of the best). So I would guess that Stannis would lose against the Vale and would have to decide to maneuver to the twins (which are abandoned by the passing of Lady Stoneheart). The goal would not be to win battles, but to flee from the Others. It would be like what Mance Ryder did beyond the wall but all the way north to the south. (I assume at some point Daenerys would land at Dragonstone and fight Aegon, a marriage between them would no longer be viable) Something I forgot about: I assume Davos would eventually find Rickon with Osha. White Harbor would be the most important place to evacuate the north, sending as many refugees as possible to the free cities. Now, I don't quite know what would happen with Bran really. He might be a good point of view from which to see the mass evacuation of the north, with him fleeing to the south as well. I think that the advance of the others should take over all of Westeros and even advance towards Essos through the sea of stepstones but frozen. Let it be a real massive apocalyptic event.

I'm not saying I'm glad they got abused - I most certainly am not. But it's the old "fuck around and find out" adage for me.
You saw how these men view women, how unfair and rooted in misogyny they are, but you decided to go along with it because you're pretty and you let them assure you that the unfair game is safe to play because it's rigged in your favour. But then you find out that men who disperse and/or consume toxic right-wing slop about how "women ought to be" turn out to be controlling, manipulative douchebags with power fantasies, and I'm supposed to clutch my pearls for you? My pearls shall remain unclutched tyvm.
Hillary Crowder's situation in specific pissed me off. This is a woman who, for close to ten years, wiped her asshole with toilet paper bought with money Steven made by doing shit like re-creating George Floyd's murder while laughing, mocking black farmers who grow the food he eats, donning yellow face, calling trans & non-binary people "pussies who just wanna feel special", and a myriad of other reprehensible shitty things. She wasn't oblivious, she knew who she married and she was A-okay with the loaded rifle until the kickback eventually broke her nose. But the internet cried for her as if she were abducted off the streets and married off against her will.
I hope she & Southern have access to any & all trauma relief & mental health resources they may need. But also, they're still opportunistic idiots who can go fuck themselves.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Long time lurker, first time redditoposter. I've been listening and reading a lot of these horror stories and figured it might be fun to share mine.
I haven't actually played a game of DnD or DnD adjacent since about 2020/2021, mostly because of what transpired during the games I actually did play before that. I love the concept, I love creating characters and stories and worlds, but I get a pit in my stomach when I actually try to play again.
I had my first opportunity to play DnD my freshman year of college. I dropped in on the campus tabletop club and I was quite anxious. I was the only girl in the room, everyone seemed to have known each other or clicked well, but I wanted to branch out of my comfort zone. The first night went well! We played a very quick heist one shot where we made a character with one flaw and one interesting trait. Through unfortunate rolls and circumstances, we had a TPK, but it was a fun time. I was invited afterwards to join a Pathfinder campaign that a few of the members were going to start up for the new semester, and so I scheduled a time to meet with the DM and create my first full fledged character.
Now, the DM was kind of eccentric, a little whack if you will but very excited to help me make my first character. I thought he was just goofy and really into the game. God I wish I picked up on all the red flags that would come.
He first asked me what kind of race I'd like to play as. I had always been drawn to tiefling characters because I liked the aesthetic. His eyes lit up at that for some reason. Then he asked what class I'd like; if I'd like to be primarily a support or tank or what have you. I didn't want to get overwhelmed in my first game and thought support might be nice. I could watch how combat worked while just keeping everyone going and buffed. I said let's try bard! The grin that crept up on his face...
He immediately started talking about how saucy that would be, how my character would be so flirty and fun. I expressed some discomfort in having my character immediately fall into the "h*rny bard" category I had seen meme'd on so much, but he laughed and waved it off by saying he "was a theater kid in high school! Everyone was super h*orny and making out backstage all the time. It just comes with the environment!" Being a new player, and wanting to fit in, I pushed down my discomfort and thought okay, I'll play her as a joke character I guess.
For awhile it was fine, I got to play her as a dancelyre player who was part of a traveling circus. Nothing weird was coming up the first few sessions. Most of the other PCs either joined together by taking quests from the town job board, or had ties built in to their backstory. My first red flag should have been that the DM, despite constantly raving about all his planning, was frequently skipping around the story. He would suddenly decide the plot point we were on wasn't interesting enough for some reason, and just throw us into another scenario. We left so many lose ends because he just didn't feel like finishing them, regardless of if we were engaging in it or not. But hey, he's the DM right? That's what I thought, he had the right to change it. I had no prior experience to see this was just bad DMing.
We ended up joining an archery competition as we were tempted by a mystery grand prize. At the sign up table, out of nowhere, the DMPC attending to registration suddenly starts flirting with my character. I got flustered in a negative way because this DM got very into character (giving me looks, leaning in as he spoke to me, the whole shebang). I panicked, all of a sudden being the focus of a room full of men seeing how I'd react to it. I again, stupidly, went along with it. I had her (nervously) flirt back lightly, and I was relieved it didn't go much further at that point. Skipping to the end of the archery competition, my bard ended up in the final two and sabotaged an assassination on the town's mayor mid competition. The party was invited to a celebratory dinner at the mayor's house afterwards, where we once again ran into the NPC that flirted with my character at registration. He invited her to bed, and again I got extremely uncomfortable and flustered. None of this was discussed beforehand, nor was I even asked if I was comfortable with such topics before joining the campaign. The guys at the table were egging me on, and I felt pressured to accept. With a few hoots and hollers, we had a fade to black scene (thank god). I went home feeling very icky, but convinced myself I was being a wimp. And the table had enjoyed my antics that night, so I should be grateful.
I had the thought between sessions to write in a childhood friends to lovers interest for my bard to try and avoid any more unexpected encounters like that again, thinking if the DM had another character to play as with some personal tie to my bard, that would make be feel better about the interactions. He was brought up once, where I milked the f*ck out of my character's attachment to him, hoping to drive home that this was juicy potential relationship to build over the campaign. He never came up again during that campaign. The DM also completely disregarded many of the notes I gave him detailing this love interest's personality, and took many 'creative liberties' with him, but not enough where I would decide to say something.
Another few sessions happened where we struggled through the DMs inconsistent storytelling and jumping around to whatever plot point had his interest at the moment. He was constantly putting us in fights we could not hope to win, way too challenging for our lvl. 1-3 party. We often sat around the table in disappointment and defeat as we got absolutely destroyed by monsters (no one being able to land hits for sometimes 3-4 rounds at a time because of how high the AC or CR was), while the DM laughed and basked in the dreary nature of the table. He would usually eventually fudge rolls to give us an out when we were close to TPKs. He even gave us a deck of many things and insisted our PCs "felt compelled" to pull cards despite the players disagreeing they that wanted to. He attempted to force my character to drastically change her alignment to an evil one for shits and giggles because of one card pull (later allowed me to ignore it because I didn't even WANT to use the deck), and got three of us killed by having them pull a card that summoned the highest CR monster you could use.
One night he texts the group chat that he decided he's done running that story, and wants to run another one shot instead. We had one last session to "close" that first campaign and discuss the one shot options. During our meeting, he gleefully admitted to me that he had planned for my bard to get PREGNANT in that one night stand with the NPC from the archery competition. Not only did he plan to do that without my consent or knowledge, he had planned for it to be a HAG baby that would have entirely f*cked my PC up (he explained it as the man having been a witch in disguise or something?? And said that's how hags are made? Which to my knowledge is entirely incorrect. Maybe it was a homebrew rule, but regardless, I was mortified. And now very grateful he lost interest in that campaign).
Moving on to the one shot, another player decided to try DMing, and so the Problem DM had a chance to be a PC, yay! He privately messaged me and asked if I'd be interested in connecting our characters and their backstories. I said yes and we got to work. We spent a few nights discussing their dynamic and I was really excited to go into this game. Well, come the night of the session, we were going around the table introducing our characters. The Problem DM went before me, and introduced an entirely different character than the one we discussed, and one that would often almost kill us during the one shot (to which the guy would cackle and mock us for getting upset each time). I asked him what happened to our plan, and he said earlier that day he decided he wanted to do something different. I sighed and let it go, because at least it was just a one shot and my character could still function without his connection to the other PC. Another one shot where the Problem DM got to be a PC, he seemed to make it his goal to be the biggest asshole to everyone else's character. My PC was an archaeologist, and when she excitedly discovered some old pottery in a dungeon, he had his PC run up and smash everything and laugh in her face.
The next campaign we tried that had issues was a Starfinder campaign. Our party was considered its own crew for a space ship, plus one DMPC that was placed into the mix supposedly to help us if we fell short, since we were all unfamiliar with Starfinder and spaceship battle mechanics. She was honestly a really cool character! And we had one or two sessions to establish the story and how the crew interacted. Now, this was my mistake, not taking any of the other creepy habits of the DM into consideration, but I offhandedly mentioned to the table at large that my PC (a woman) might be developing a crush on this DMPC (also a woman). They had gone through a lot together in-game at that point and it felt natural. The next session, you'll never guess, the DMPC started flirting hard core with my character. I was confused and asked the DM what that was about, as we had never had any interactions between those two that would be read as romantic. Even if I mentioned my character was crushing, she had never let it on, and the DMPC had never indicated she felt a similar pull as well. The DM didn't really have an explanation, just that apparently in-universe, the DMPC had been flirting more and more with my character since their last adventure together alone. I thought, okay, I guess...
Honestly? What transpired would have been an insanely cool plot twist if we had had the time to actually roleplay and develop the relationship between my character and the DMPC, as well as the crew at large and the DMPC. She ended up being part of a cult that wanted to steal an artifact we had acquired. She was apparently trying to 'romance' my PC because my PC was the one who often guarded the artifact, and needed her to let her guard down. It would have been a super impactful betrayal, but it was literally only a handful of sessions between the first meeting, and the plot twist. We just had to trust the DMs word that we had all gotten super attached to her between actual session meetings and we all should feel like we were stabbed in the back by this trusted individual. And I especially should feel heartbroken because she never really was interested in me anyway.
Later on down the line, despite some very interesting story points, it got creepy again. Our PCs ended up being sucked into a death game show, and isolated from the outside world while being broadcast to universal TV stations. At some point we were all given access to the internet after a few weeks in isolation to search up anything we wanted. Everyone searched up their names among other things. The DM described us finding our newly formed fanbases. He described the other PCs fanbases (men played by men) as having hot debates on their intelligence and decisions during the show, or bets on if they'd be the last ones standing; that sort of stuff. He described my fanbase as leering creeps saying the most unhinged things about what they wanted my PC to do to them s*xually, as well as some spreading photos of my PC without her face covering (she was a Kasatha, which canonically keep their mouths covered. But she had been forced to remove it briefly when it almost waterboarded her after she fell into a river).
Eventually, we weren't able to meet consistently enough to warrant running campaigns anymore, and I fell out of touch with all involved. Oh, we also lost a player at some point right after he confessed to me and I declined his interest.
I went another year not playing before another friend group of mine invited me to play as a guest character. I thought this would be a nice way to ease back into the game slowly after my horrid experiences before. Rather than make an entirely new character for one or two sessions, I brought back my tiefling bard because I still really liked her character, and had started to reshape her personality without being pressured to have her be a s*xual chess piece. The new DM dropped my character in a labyrinth their current party had been trapped in for awhile. I was made to be a level or two higher and be an ally they encountered to help them escape. We did, it was fun! But I was only there as a guest, and had only planned my character to be in one to two sessions before leaving. I was consistently mentioning to the party that my PC would be leaving as soon as they get to her major city, but either they didn't think I was serious or didn't remember. I may have been convinced to come on full time, but unfortunately, history repeats itself. We got to a session where the party got to a tavern and drowned their sorrows and nursed their labyrinth bruises with beer, and the idea of a threesome was thrown in the air between my PC and two others. Now, half of this group were dating someone else in the group, and seemed very comfortable roleplaying casual s*x between their PCs because of it. They started a damn chant pressuring me to say yes, already trying to roleplay it, and I felt sick. I was too anxious at the idea of saying no with how aggressive everyone was for me to agree, so I tried to "roll for yes or no" as an out; the dice failed me, and it rolled a number assigned to yes. I was very quiet the rest of the session, and afterwards messaged the DM that I want my character to leave at the beginning of the next session.
The DM then tried to convince me to stay, despite me saying a clear no multiple times within the same conversation. They begged me to stay saying the party loved my PC a lot, and they would hate to lose me. When they finally relented, they then tried to smoothly transition to talk of making me a new character so I could permanently stay with the party, without compromising my bards story and decision. I kind of got on their case about that, and told them to stop pressuring me and I did not want to play with that group anymore. Eventually, they gave up, but not without some low key guilt tripping.
I tried playing with one more group after this, and while it didn't get creepy, it was also a disappointment as none of the players seemed to care besides me and the DM, despite everyone having encouraged starting the game because they wanted to learn how to play for the first time. Players slowly started ghosting us, drama happened between two players that joined just to have an excuse to talk and try and date (which ended up very messy and they both left), and the new players would get angry at me or the DM if they got confused with the rules or combat dynamics (the wizard rushed ahead of me, the tank barbarian, and then acted like it was my fault when they nearly got killed in the first round because "the tank is supposed to protect the damage dealers").
The DM and I stayed in contact after all the other players ghosted the chat, and ended up bringing over some other new players who had also played before, and re hauled the campaign. This one had so much promise...then quarantine hit, and we couldn't keep up with regular meetings.
At this point, with all my games ending with creeps, messy player dynamics or falling through, I decided maybe these kinds of games weren't for me.
I have new friends now inviting me to play, who have very functional groups (experienced professional DMs, closeknit friend groups, long-running campaigns), but I am too wary to accept any more offers for games, despite deep down really wanting to try again and be part of something I know can be amazing. Maybe I will one day, but until then, I just have these horror stories to think about.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

My feed can get really odd sometimes as if it’s trying to subliminally message me. I don’t engage with these posts much, I even make sure to press not interested yet the similar themes keep coming up again ? Reels from obviously race baiting accounts of black people doing crime, posts of interracial relationships with comments filled with black women worshipping white men. My perspective on the world in general is quite large so this stuff has no real affect on how I view our society knowing I’m only viewing little pockets of it. It’s just odd to me that it’s almost like it’s trying to subliminally message me ? It just made me think about how a weaker (the human mind is malleable by default) mind could be radicalized quite easily by their feed. I’m only 18 myself and I can see how such could affect people much older than me let alone my own peers. I feel like I see some of that in this sub from time to time and I can’t blame yall tbh. But I urge everyone here to remember the world is much bigger than these little devices make it, just thought this could reach some people who have doom scrolled into oblivion. There is so much more out there guys, don’t let social media prevent you from seeing what lays beyond. 🙏🏾

This may be the weirdest thing you'll ever read.
First an ability has been developed in me, when I close my eyes I can see what is maybe spirits, images that moves very fast, it's better then any animation or movie you have ever seen extremely great and beautiful things. Then it evolved, I could kinda see them with my eyes open.
This a serie of stuff that happened. Once I had a vision of things moving in my head and it was healing and felt so good but then before it reaches the higher portion of my head something very crashed, it interrupted it and I opened my eyes, the first thing I thought about was my mother, then she called with worried tone, she wasn't at home then. A second occurence, I was not very well, so I asked my higher self to fix my brain, and at my suprise it started to do it, it was so relaxing but then I saw my mother with a black energy breaking my left tooth, it was scary. Another time I was doing a meditation of activating immortality, it was envisioning a golden light taken over your body, the problem was that a part of left side was held by a black energy, it was also my mother. So whenever when I was in a certain state my mother will interpret me either in my brain or by walking in physicaly in the middle of the night for no reason. Another time I had a vision that she opened my flesh and bones and then my body started absorbing people energies in body, I didn't like it.
After those occurences I failed to get back to preferred state of visions, wich is going upward exploring my own universe. So this time I went inward into my body wich, I went to dangerous places where god is dead, basically you disconnecte from your higher, a place where free spirits can go to some beautiful great highs. Then I figured that you can even change you body composition, so I was there with intent to change my body into defying the physical limits and become by disconnecting from the part that relates to women ( I'll explain later why), it was very chaotic and my mind started summoning people, then it summoned a very powerful spiritual women and also another one, she was so angry about what I was doing and she started bringing havoc to my body, undoing what I have started doing, modifying my guts and one of them made me her son in another incartion, I could see myself reincarnated I was so angry and I tried to get it back and when I did it turned out that I have killed him, then I spent the day under a very heavy attack my body was attacked, things taken from guts, huge powerful forces attacking my forehead bones until my ability to see stuff has been gone and many other terrible things, now I'm writing this because my memory is getting wipped, so what I discovered is that women are responsible for the reincarnation and the limiting of the physical abilities m, by disconnecting internaly from them you have your soul and you your spirt and there's no limit, manipulating matter, flying, whatever you can imagine. What you is needed to be understood is what we see as women is not the real creature, we project into them our anima a part of our soul, they very well know that so they know how to present themselves in a way that you think they are what you want, while what you really want is connection to your soul and what is most important is that they domesticate men and children also fathers are guilty, women are extremely powerful domestictors to the point they can physical modify and affect the bones and brain structure and steal from your guts. there's so much informations in the bones. They are loyal to nature and life, and life demand constant death and rebirth, it may be that our souls are half souls and that's how we always once get trapped in reincarnation. Men are extremely extremely domesticated. After the body modification made by that women, all women started looking at me in a welcoming way( all they see is a prey). Before that they either didn't look or they look with contempt a very bad look, because they could sense that was not following the line.

His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

TLDR: My "mother" is a vile evil woman who has stolen from my grandma and nephew, committed crimes and exploited people, had me working at 15 to support the family while she did nothing, and lied to me so I wouldn't see my grandma on Mother's Day. I have a long post on my full story on another subreddit on my profile if you want more context.
My "mother" is a vile, awful person who has committed heinous and despicable acts. To make an extremely long story short, I grew up in an unstable household. My dad wasn't around and my mom was unwilling to work to support us. I was pawned off to my grandparents who lived with us, and they were more parents to me than my actual parents were. Everything my mom has done has been to fuel her ego, and as with many narcissists, to seek validation to reinforce her nonexistent identity outside external validation. She needs validation constantly on how young and beautiful she looks, how rich and great she is, and how she is an excellent and caring mom. Yet a good mother wouldn't have had me and my siblings and grandparents living in a former drug house infested with millions of roaches, rats, black mold, and on again off again running water and electricity. A good mom also wouldn't have sat around having parties and drinking while I, at 15 years of age and two senior citizens, broke our backs trying to sell and rent party supplies and carrying an 800 lb bounce house to customers that wanted to rent them. I worked at 15 like a Victorian boy instead of going to school trying to make ends meet because my parents wouldn't. My "mother" has done everything evil you can think of, from scamming and stealing from innocent people, catfishing other men (while with my stepdad), pretending to be my sister online for validation and money, forcing my sister to be a model and hook up with much older men for the promise of advancement (she was 17 and these men where in there 30s or older), spies on my widowed sister-in-law, had me living in deplorable conditions and having me eat old food infested with roaches and rat droppings, conducting illegal gambling business and money laundering, kept the fact that (some of) my siblings are adopted from them, baby trapped my stepdad, had little to no concern for my mental health and did not help or try to accommodate my sensory issues (I suspect I may have level 1 autism, mostly with sensory issues) and much, much, much more. I have been going to therapy and am currently doing emdr to undo the damage that my evil "mother" has done. She is a master of manipulation, love bombing, and buying people's love, loyalty, and affection. I, for the second time, have gone no contact with her.
Now that there's some context, my grandmother means everything to me. She lives in a convalescent home and my mom has control over her. I wanted to see her on Mother's Day. My mom asked if I was going to come to lunch. I said we were visiting my wife's mom, then coming to the house later at 5. She said that was not going to work because they were going to eat at 1. I said, OK well, if we can't do the restaurant, then take her to the house, so we can all visit her at 5. She said she couldn't do that, and why couldn't we just go to eat with them and then, IF there's time, we could go to my mother-in-law's house for a little bit. I said no, everything has been arranged already, and as usual you don't inform anyone of plans and expect everyone last second to cancel theirs and do yours. We were going to make my mother-in-law a priority, however, there was time for both. She got mad and said she would not be bringing my grandma to the house and I guess that was it. I said, well, I guess it is. On Mother's Day, I called my grandma, and she was upset and crying, asking why I hadn't seen her, and that she had come to visit the house. My mom took her to the house after lunch and didn't tell me. Neither did any of my other family. She said that she wanted to come back home and didn't want to live at the facility. She is fairly healthy and in reality, doesn't need to be at the facility. After talking to her, I confronted my mom and said that I explicitly told you that I wanted to see Grandma, and you said you were NOT bringing her to the house. You did bring her to the house and intentionally did not tell me. Because I did not bow down and follow your commands like everyone else, you deliberately orchestrated this, so I would not see her in an act of revenge to spite me. There was no reason you couldn't have called or texted and told me you were bringing her, especially after I told you I wanted to see her, even if it was at the last minute. It was an intentional act. She just said you are always talking shit about me. I told her it's not talking shit if it's true. She then hung up. This is what she does. If you don't follow the Führers command, bow at her feet, and tell her how wonderful and gracious she is, she will seek vengeance and do things to spite you, to bring glory for herself.
My grandma told me that my "mom" mistreats her, and is collecting pay from the government pretending to be her caretaker (when in reality my mom does absolutely nothing and has no job whatsoever. She dedicates her life to crime, fraud, and scams. She ran an underground casino with my stepdad and when they got busted my stepdad took the fall) but instead dumped her in a conversant home and does not care for her at all. Besides all that, my grandma also stated that she takes all of her social security money and keeps it. This is not surprising because my nephew, who is technically an orphan, having lost both parents recently, is under the custody of my horrible "mother" and he had some kind of inheritance left for him. When my "mother" discovered this, she swept in and wiped it clean. Her greed is deplorable. Wherever there is money, the Sheriff of Nottingham will do anything to get every last coin wherever she can get it. She even charges people $5 to use the washing machine. The most important thing to my "mother" is herself and her endless black hole of needing to be validated and praised, along with the endless black hole of greed. It is her entire identity. I am so enraged, and I can not let these things happen. When will my "mother" face consequences for her actions? She cannot continue to commit evil acts and not only get away with them but also prosper because of it. One of the worst parts, however, is that everyone, even if they have their problems with her, always goes along with what the dear leader says and continues to enable her by telling her she's a good mom and that they appreciate her. She needs to face consequences for her actions, but I don't know what to do. She can't continue to harm people and get away with it. I need help.

TLDR: My "mother" is a vile evil woman who has stolen from my grandma and nephew, committed crimes and exploited people, had me working at 15 to support the family while she did nothing, and lied to me so I wouldn't see my grandma on Mother's Day. I have a long post on my full story on another subreddit on my profile if you want more context.
My "mother" is a vile, awful person who has committed heinous and despicable acts. To make an extremely long story short, I grew up in an unstable household. My dad wasn't around and my mom was unwilling to work to support us. I was pawned off to my grandparents who lived with us, and they were more parents to me than my actual parents were. Everything my mom has done has been to fuel her ego, and as with many narcissists, to seek validation to reinforce her nonexistent identity outside external validation. She needs validation constantly on how young and beautiful she looks, how rich and great she is, and how she is an excellent and caring mom. Yet a good mother wouldn't have had me and my siblings and grandparents living in a former drug house infested with millions of roaches, rats, black mold, and on again off again running water and electricity. A good mom also wouldn't have sat around having parties and drinking while I, at 15 years of age and two senior citizens, broke our backs trying to sell and rent party supplies and carrying an 800 lb bounce house to customers that wanted to rent them. I worked at 15 like a Victorian boy instead of going to school trying to make ends meet because my parents wouldn't. My "mother" has done everything evil you can think of, from scamming and stealing from innocent people, catfishing other men (while with my stepdad), pretending to be my sister online for validation and money, forcing my sister to be a model and hook up with much older men for the promise of advancement (she was 17 and these men where in there 30s or older), spies on my widowed sister-in-law, had me living in deplorable conditions and having me eat old food infested with roaches and rat droppings, conducting illegal gambling business and money laundering, kept the fact that (some of) my siblings are adopted from them, baby trapped my stepdad, had little to no concern for my mental health and did not help or try to accommodate my sensory issues (I suspect I may have level 1 autism, mostly with sensory issues) and much, much, much more. I have been going to therapy and am currently doing emdr to undo the damage that my evil "mother" has done. She is a master of manipulation, love bombing, and buying people's love, loyalty, and affection. I, for the second time, have gone no contact with her.
Now that there's some context, my grandmother means everything to me. She lives in a convalescent home and my mom has control over her. I wanted to see her on Mother's Day. My mom asked if I was going to come to lunch. I said we were visiting my wife's mom, then coming to the house later at 5. She said that was not going to work because they were going to eat at 1. I said, OK well, if we can't do the restaurant, then take her to the house, so we can all visit her at 5. She said she couldn't do that, and why couldn't we just go to eat with them and then, IF there's time, we could go to my mother-in-law's house for a little bit. I said no, everything has been arranged already, and as usual you don't inform anyone of plans and expect everyone last second to cancel theirs and do yours. We were going to make my mother-in-law a priority, however, there was time for both. She got mad and said she would not be bringing my grandma to the house and I guess that was it. I said, well, I guess it is. On Mother's Day, I called my grandma, and she was upset and crying, asking why I hadn't seen her, and that she had come to visit the house. My mom took her to the house after lunch and didn't tell me. Neither did any of my other family. She said that she wanted to come back home and didn't want to live at the facility. She is fairly healthy and in reality, doesn't need to be at the facility. After talking to her, I confronted my mom and said that I explicitly told you that I wanted to see Grandma, and you said you were NOT bringing her to the house. You did bring her to the house and intentionally did not tell me. Because I did not bow down and follow your commands like everyone else, you deliberately orchestrated this, so I would not see her in an act of revenge to spite me. There was no reason you couldn't have called or texted and told me you were bringing her, especially after I told you I wanted to see her, even if it was at the last minute. It was an intentional act. She just said you are always talking shit about me. I told her it's not talking shit if it's true. She then hung up. This is what she does. If you don't follow the Führers command, bow at her feet, and tell her how wonderful and gracious she is, she will seek vengeance and do things to spite you, to bring glory for herself.
My grandma told me that my "mom" mistreats her, and is collecting pay from the government pretending to be her caretaker (when in reality my mom does absolutely nothing and has no job whatsoever. She dedicates her life to crime, fraud, and scams. She ran an underground casino with my stepdad and when they got busted my stepdad took the fall) but instead dumped her in a conversant home and does not care for her at all. Besides all that, my grandma also stated that she takes all of her social security money and keeps it. This is not surprising because my nephew, who is technically an orphan, having lost both parents recently, is under the custody of my horrible "mother" and he had some kind of inheritance left for him. When my "mother" discovered this, she swept in and wiped it clean. Her greed is deplorable. Wherever there is money, the Sheriff of Nottingham will do anything to get every last coin wherever she can get it. She even charges people $5 to use the washing machine. The most important thing to my "mother" is herself and her endless black hole of needing to be validated and praised, along with the endless black hole of greed. It is her entire identity. I am so enraged, and I can not let these things happen. When will my "mother" face consequences for her actions? She cannot continue to commit evil acts and not only get away with them but also prosper because of it. One of the worst parts, however, is that everyone, even if they have their problems with her, always goes along with what the dear leader says and continues to enable her by telling her she's a good mom and that they appreciate her. She needs to face consequences for her actions, but I don't know what to do. She can't continue to harm people and get away with it. I need help.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

This is my last attempt for awhile. *Do Not message or add me just to unfriend me or ghost me. * Greetings future partner ❤️ I'm still searching for you. I have to be honest and say that I am losing hope trying to find you.Please be somewhere. I want my search for a partner to be over. I'm seeking adventure in my life with someone I can call a forever partner. I'm tired of the loneliness and the sheltered lifestyle that I've lived. It would mean a lot of you could read through this post so that I could make sure we are compatible. Even if we start off as friends that would be fine.
Here's to new beginnings and new connections. PLEASE make sure you READ through the WHOLE POST also please be respectful when messaging me * *If you're the type to be impatient, block, or ghost easily, then save both of us the trouble and DO NOT message me! I'm not trying to come off as mean but I'd much rather you not message me if you're the type of person to do that. If something isn't working just let me know. We're all adults.
Greetings, I am seeking a long term relationship monogamous with the end goal being matrimony. I am not one for playing around and being used casually as it doesn’t suit me personally. Ideally I'd prefer a man that has his life already in place so that I can be able to share life with him and for him to take care of me. I would expect my future man to have a fiscally stable job and be able to support me and our future family. I wouldn’t be opposed to being a housewife. There are few reasons why I would like to work or work part time: 1) Being abandoned with nothing, 2) I want to feel fulfilled and not bored. Happy to discuss possible dynamics, I'm flexible. I would love a synergistic partnership where we are both able to mold our minds and fill our hearts with warm affection. I will be there to support you throughout your journey and celebrate every moment with you. I want you to be proud of you just as you are with me. I want to show you that you are truly cared for and appreciated by gestures of love such as massages and other forms of entertainment. I would expect the same from you as well. Even if we are both working adults we can still make our relationship work in the best way possible. I have seen this come out well for people who are dedicated and willing to make their relationships work. For a strong relationship to occur I would expect effective (transparent) communication from you. If you are going to be busy just be honest and let me know you won’t be able to talk to me.Also, if you need your space both mentally and physically let me know. I understand that we all have our lives to attend to but it is incredibly important for people in a relationship to be transparent when circumstances arise in a timely manner in order to avoid future conflict. If this relationship isn’t going to work I would expect you to tell me and not ghost or block me before giving me a reason why. We are all adults so I would expect nothing but maturity. Starting out I don’t want the pressure of sex to be pushed onto me. I’d rather let time tell in all of its glory.
Now onto my true introduction
My name is Angie and I'm from Georgia in the United States. I've been lonely for quite some time and find it hard to find a soulmate in IRL. What I'm looking for is someone who I can connect with and have wholesome conversations with. I want to be able to treat my future soulmate well just as much as they do me. The biggest part of a long lasting relationship is the ability to communicate openly without worry. I'd love it if my significant other has a dark sense of humor and continues to crack me up non-stop. As cheesy as it may sound I long for those late night calls and cute texts. I want for us to drive out the very best in each other; become our support system. A little bit about me is that I grew up in Florida and not too long ago moved to Georgia. I'm currently in college to become an RN but I'm also passionate about cosmetic chemistry and nutrition so I may seek to build my own business in the future. I'm passionate about science and theoretical applications especially within the medical field. I'd appreciate it if my partner is open minded about varying topics and welcomes healthy conversations. Appearance wise I'm open to seeing if we have a connection and feel as long as you are well groomed and practice basic hygiene you are good. Although, I must say that attraction is key in a relationship so I will have to go off on that as well. To add on, I enjoy playing video games, exercising (I've been slacking off lately), cooking and baking (vegan), playing board games, reading, exploring nature, playing sports (basketball and soccer) for fun, and trying new experiences. I hope to save up and travel someday. It would be nice for my partner to be able to set up our travel itinerary.
My Physical Description:
I am a black woman who’s twenty five years old (almost 26 in December) with Afro-Carribean, Japanese and Swedish ancestry. I’d still consider myself black presenting since that’s more along the lines of what I appear as phenotypically. I have dark brown curly hair (Mainly 3c type curls) and brown eyes. I am 5 '4 on the thicker spectrum (not at all obese but thick boned and have thunder thighs). I am trying to exercise more to become fit. I used to weight lift when I was younger but since then have lost lean muscle mass. Having a partner that is willing to work out together sometimes is rather rewarding. A man who has drive and appeal is incredibly sexy. I would also like to point out that I am curvy and noticeable in certain aspects (I’ll leave it up to you to decide).
*You have to be MINIMUM 21 to date me *
If distance will be a problem and you aren't willing to make it work then DON'T MESSAGE ME!!
If you will be too busy to pursue a relationship then DO NOT contact me!! * *Again, No ghosters or blockers!! Seeking a person who seeks a relationship with God and/or is open to one Must be free from venerial diseases and must be willing to get tested(will discuss) Bonus points if you're vegan Ideally I would like someone that is taller than me (I’m 5’4) I prefer a man that is fit or trying to be. I'd prefer someone who is fiscally stable and able to support the both of us* A big red flag for me is smokers. It isn't good for your health nor is it sexy to me.* It's important for me to point out that I want children in the future and need someone who may want that as well. If you're interested in how I look and want to know more about me, message me. Although I don’t make it a huge deal, I do prefer White and East Asian men. But I do love all types of men and welcome them. As stated before I emphasize communication and would prefer you to be honest and say if something is wrong instead of ghosting or blocking without stating the reason. Fair warning if I can be socially awkward sometimes and don't know what to talk about so please be patient with me as I'm learning to be better conversation wise

This will mostl likely be my last attempt in trying to find someone for awhile. * Do Not message me just to ghost or block me! Think it through before you message me!! I don't want to get emotionally hurt again.*
Greetings future partner ❤️ I'm still searching for you. I have to be honest and say that I am losing hope trying to find you.Please be somewhere. I want my search for a partner to be over. I'm seeking adventure in my life with someone I can call a forever partner. I'm tired of the loneliness and the sheltered lifestyle that I've lived. It would mean a lot of you could read through this post so that I could make sure we are compatible. Even if we start off as friends that would be fine.
Here's to new beginnings and new connections. PLEASE make sure you READ through the WHOLE POST also please be respectful when messaging me * *If you're the type to be impatient, block, or ghost easily, then save both of us the trouble and DO NOT message me! I'm not trying to come off as mean but I'd much rather you not message me if you're the type of person to do that. If something isn't working just let me know. We're all adults.
Greetings, I am seeking a long term relationship monogamous with the end goal being matrimony. I am not one for playing around and being used casually as it doesn’t suit me personally. Ideally I'd prefer a man that has his life already in place so that I can be able to share life with him and for him to take care of me. I would expect my future man to have a fiscally stable job and be able to support me and our future family. I wouldn’t be opposed to being a housewife. There are few reasons why I would like to work or work part time: 1) Being abandoned with nothing, 2) I want to feel fulfilled and not bored. Happy to discuss possible dynamics, I'm flexible. I would love a synergistic partnership where we are both able to mold our minds and fill our hearts with warm affection. I will be there to support you throughout your journey and celebrate every moment with you. I want you to be proud of you just as you are with me. I want to show you that you are truly cared for and appreciated by gestures of love such as massages and other forms of entertainment. I would expect the same from you as well. Even if we are both working adults we can still make our relationship work in the best way possible. I have seen this come out well for people who are dedicated and willing to make their relationships work. For a strong relationship to occur I would expect effective (transparent) communication from you. If you are going to be busy just be honest and let me know you won’t be able to talk to me.Also, if you need your space both mentally and physically let me know. I understand that we all have our lives to attend to but it is incredibly important for people in a relationship to be transparent when circumstances arise in a timely manner in order to avoid future conflict. If this relationship isn’t going to work I would expect you to tell me and not ghost or block me before giving me a reason why. We are all adults so I would expect nothing but maturity. Starting out I don’t want the pressure of sex to be pushed onto me. I’d rather let time tell in all of its glory.
Now onto my true introduction
My name is Angie and I'm from Georgia in the United States. I've been lonely for quite some time and find it hard to find a soulmate in IRL. What I'm looking for is someone who I can connect with and have wholesome conversations with. I want to be able to treat my future soulmate well just as much as they do me. The biggest part of a long lasting relationship is the ability to communicate openly without worry. I'd love it if my significant other has a dark sense of humor and continues to crack me up non-stop. As cheesy as it may sound I long for those late night calls and cute texts. I want for us to drive out the very best in each other; become our support system. A little bit about me is that I grew up in Florida and not too long ago moved to Georgia. I'm currently in college to become an RN but I'm also passionate about cosmetic chemistry and nutrition so I may seek to build my own business in the future. I'm passionate about science and theoretical applications especially within the medical field. I'd appreciate it if my partner is open minded about varying topics and welcomes healthy conversations. Appearance wise I'm open to seeing if we have a connection and feel as long as you are well groomed and practice basic hygiene you are good. Although, I must say that attraction is key in a relationship so I will have to go off on that as well. To add on, I enjoy playing video games, exercising (I've been slacking off lately), cooking and baking (vegan), playing board games, reading, exploring nature, playing sports (basketball and soccer) for fun, and trying new experiences. I hope to save up and travel someday. It would be nice for my partner to be able to set up our travel itinerary.
My Physical Description:
I am a black woman who’s twenty five years old (almost 26 in December) with Afro-Carribean, Japanese and Swedish ancestry. I’d still consider myself black presenting since that’s more along the lines of what I appear as phenotypically. I have dark brown curly hair (Mainly 3c type curls) and brown eyes. I am 5 '4 on the thicker spectrum (not at all obese but thick boned and have thunder thighs). I am trying to exercise more to become fit. I used to weight lift when I was younger but since then have lost lean muscle mass. Having a partner that is willing to work out together sometimes is rather rewarding. A man who has drive and appeal is incredibly sexy. I would also like to point out that I am curvy and noticeable in certain aspects (I’ll leave it up to you to decide).
*You have to be MINIMUM 21 to date me *
If distance is an issue and you aren't willing to commit then DON'T MESSAGE ME!!
If you will be too busy to pursue a relationship then DO NOT contact me!! * *Again, No ghosters or blockers!! Seeking a person who seeks a relationship with God and/or is open to one MUST be free from venerial diseases (must be willing to get tested) Bonus points if you're vegan Ideally I would like someone that is taller than me (I’m 5’4) I prefer a man that is fit or trying to be. I'd prefer someone who is fiscally stable and able to support the both of us* A big red flag for me is smokers. It isn't good for your health nor is it sexy to me.* It's important for me to point out that I want children in the future and need someone who may want that as well. If you're interested in how I look and want to know more about me, message me. Although I don’t make it a huge deal, I do prefer White and East Asian men. But I do love all types of men and welcome them. As stated before I emphasize communication and would prefer you to be honest and say if something is wrong instead of ghosting or blocking without stating the reason. Fair warning if I can be socially awkward sometimes and don't know what to talk about so please be patient with me as I'm learning to be better conversation wise

I (26f) have never cared much about the race of the men I date. My way of thinking is as long as we genuinely vibe well, have similar goals/opinions and like similar things, it's all good. The few white men I've dated have always never dated anyone black and are basically clueless on how to act. They either offend me by the way they act/ opinions they have or they're almost too scared to even say or do anything for fear OF offending me. It's definitely a process and a talk that needs to be had between partners.
It feels like a unique position to be in because a lot of time I feel like it's a never ending thing of having to educate and teach them certain things about black women and culture in general. I guess I'm just tired. Tired of being the first. I feel like if they really want to be with a black woman specifically, they should take it upon THEMSELVES to learn how to be with us, make us feel safe/comfortable, what not to say. This only goes for the ones who truly want to love us, not just to have a "taste" and fulfill some fetish or fantasy. Idk how to feel about this. Am I asking for too much? Or do I need to change the way I think?

Why did the farmer visit the pharmacy? To speak with the farm-assist.
Hi and welcome to my post! Wanted to start off with a funny to me dad joke.
Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan! To put it simple, I am a single 22 year old man who has been pretty lonely in life and lacking in female connection and interaction. And part of what comes with that is the desire to be intimate with a person. I am very mature for my age and will always be respectful of your boundaries and feelings, especially with anything sexual. Lately all I have is myself when it comes to sexual desires, so I would like to have someone to keep company with in that regard too.
I'm just relaxing at work since there's nothing really going on and thinking about going home tonight and burning a woodwick candle. Perfect for when there's a storm outside. I love candles! 🕯️ Sometimes a campfire outside on a fall night or a crackling WoodWick candle is a relaxing constant among our busy and hectic world. It's nice to just disconnect, feel grounded and happy in your own little cozy space. Feeling calm and collected and at peace. Something that fewer people take the time to do these days.
I am seeking a woman around my age or older to build a close connection with that could possibly lead to a relationship and something intimate which includes the possibility of teasing/sharing pics etc. but only when we were comfortable. Figured I would be open in my Intentions as that's the best way to be.
You:
Kind, respectful, and easy going.
Comfortable with the idea of eventually sharing intimate things together.
Willing to eventually move off of Reddit.
Want something genuine and fun!
Are honest in your intentions and a good person to be around!
That's about it, we will get along great I know it.
I've been feeling a little bummed out lately. I always try and stay happy and see the best in things. But.. I've just been so alone. Most of my whole childhood and adult years have been spent feeling lonely. I grew up surrounded by cornfields which was peaceful but also has a lonely aspect to it. My family never really were close and never did anything as a family really. And part of it too is the fact that I never had any neighbors my age to interact with. But aside from that, my adult life has been very lonely. I'm just always by myself. I barely have any meaningful adult relationships or experiences, or even any friends.
I work a 3-11 job in building maintenance at my company world headquarters building which I love, but again it's very lonely. I work the off shift so the building is always empty. I don't get normal social interaction with people my age or a chance to build relationships. I only have 3 older men as co-workers and we are mostly in the basement away from any people on the floors from knowing our existence. I always walk the floors and see office people laughing and chatting with their coworkers and I just don't have that kind of experience. And just.. no one knows I exist really. Everyone probably assumes I have a lot of friends, but I'm struggling inside with being so alone and trying to meet people and get past the "hi how are you?" "I'm good thanks" stage. Most people don't seem to want to talk beyond that. And most women are already in relationships and thus it would seem weird to approach them in an office setting trying to get to know them deeper. But man those "hi how are yous" are the only real interactions I get during my day.. so thus I decided to come here lol. Rant over, sorry! I promise I'm not a downer. 😅
Now for some things about me!
As you can tell, I am very mature for my age and am polite and have good grammar which unfortunately not everyone my age does anymore lol. I am not active at all on social media/internet culture really and don't know much about all the slang the younger people these days use. I feel like I'm 50. 🤣
I am left handed which is pretty cool. I'm not much of a party person or a drinker, I much prefer a quiet night at home and maybe a beer or two on a weekend but that's about it. I am simple and stay out of drama and trouble and don't get much into politics or other things that cause drama with people. I much prefer a relaxing campfire and a night at home and to just let the world keep on turning haha. I consider myself pretty intelligent and mature, especially for my age which is why I'm open to older ladies.
Physically I'm 180 pounds, have brown hair, green eyes, and a typical build. There's a few pictures on my profile.
Some of my hobbies are:
• Photography
I have a Nikon D200 and D5500 that I love to shoot with. I love nature scenes, abstract, black and white/goth kinda photography, sunsets, etc. it's so fun to just let your mind explore. It's not about what camera you have, but those who are behind the camera! I'm gonna try and photograph the northern lights tonight!
• Cooking and baking
I loveeee to cook and bake! I enjoy making various meals but also love to just have a frozen pizza once in awhile or something like that. I recently made homemade chili which turned out great. I love to bake, especially in the fall! I love pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, etc. I restored a vintage KitchenAid mixer that needed tbe gearbox rebuilt. Eventually I would love to practice home canning my own food.
• Music
Oh my gosh, I like so much!! Alternative rock, punk, post punk, electronic, synth pop, psychedelic rock, hard rock, etc. I am very non judgemental and open when it comes to music. My three current favorite bands are Type O Negative, Joy Division, and the Cure.
• Nature walks and camping
I really enjoy camping, making fires, and relaxing by a campfire. I love to take walks outside and just enjoy the beauty and simplicity of nature. It's wonderful, especially in a world so focused on everything digital.
• Repairing things
I'm a maintenance guy and one of my hobbies is electronics repair so I am good with my hands and just all around good at troubleshooting and fixing all sorts of things around the house. Last week I helped my elderly neighbor get his tractor started, it needed a new component in the starting circuit. So I'm pretty handy which... Comes in handy! 😂
• Autumn 🍁
This isn't a hobby per say, but man do I love the fall!!! It's my absolute favorite time of the year. Oh my gosh. The beautiful colors, crisp cool air, misty and foggy days, rain, lack of bugs, being cuddled up with a candle or by the fire drinking a tea, etc. I love it! There's only two seasons for me. Fall, and waiting for fall! Haha.
• Scented Candles and incense
Going along with my love for fall, I absolutely love candles! I have like 30 something lol. 😂 Currently my favorite are WoodWick, which are owned by Yankee candle. They have such a soothing crackle and the scents are great! I also love to burn incense from time to time as well. I have cottagecore hippie vibes.
• Old houses and architecture
I love old houses! Especially 1900s and Victorian era homes. Old homes have so much character to them and are just so beautiful from a time when people took pride in their craft. I strongly dislike the modern cookie cutter cheap construction of homes today. I would love to live in an old home one day. I also love their architecture and uniqueness, as well as architecture of old cathedrals and other buildings.
• Relaxing
Basic I know, but sometimes on the weekend I just love to get cozy in bed and relax and put on a YouTube video or an album! 😊
That's about it for me, I'm a pretty laid back and simple person. My ideal person is someone who is respectful and honest! I am very straightforward and open minded and would hope that you are as well.
If I seem interesting to you at all I would love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading.

I came here to talk about this because I can’t talk to anyone else I know about it. I am VERY attracted to transwomen, however due to the social stigma & my religious worldview, I do not openly date them.
Honestly, I know I couldn’t do it long-term simply bc I do want a family with a wife & kids. & I love pussy alot more than anal. But I can’t deny the fact that transwomen unleash a primal lust within me. The sex itself is amazing , mainly bc there aren’t any qualms about having her eat my ass , no pregnancy concerns (yes, I get tested & confirm their status before anything happens) , they suck dick better , more often than not , & it’s just something about seeing dick & balls hanging from a gorgeous girl bent on all fours that gets my dick extra hard.
So whenever I am going thru a serious dry spell , or when I’m newly out of a relationship , my sights immediately turn to them (some have helped me get over breakups rather quickly). I get on grindr , taimi, set in my profile that I’m only looking for transwomen & I go from there.
I usually have a roster built up of transwomen if I’m not dating biowomen & treat it as a genuine fwb relationship. We go places & do stuff together , then have some great sex afterwards. I always make it clear that I’m not looking for anything longterm & with the exception of one girl (who slashed my tires after I told her that 😵‍💫) they all have been cool with it.
I do cut things off amicably with a transwoman when I am seriously dating a biowoman. & I am always 100% faithful during my relationship. But that roster I built just doesn’t disappear lol because unless I get married , it will certainly be utilized after a breakup.
A thing that plays a part in this is the fact that it is simply easier to have sex with transwomen than biowomen. Not that I can’t get girls, but you just don’t have to jump thru as many hoops before you have sex.
Besides , many of the transwomen I have talked to , tend to be , even more selective than women in terms of who they’ll have sex with as far as mere attraction goes. I mean some of these girls look like pornstars in person & obviously I’m not the only one whose dick gets hard when you see them naked. So they do have plenty of choices as I have seen endless messages of thirsty men of all backgrounds in many of these girl’s inboxes.
But anyway , that’s my confession that I don’t see myself telling anyone besides God Himself. A black dude that is a first-generation American with African roots from Baltimore ? You could imagine what that would be like for me.
So , ask me anything. I am very interested in what you all have to say

TLDR: My "mother" is a vile evil woman who has stolen from my grandma and nephew, committed crimes and exploited people, had me working at 15 to support the family while she did nothing, and lied to me so I wouldn't see my grandma on Mother's Day. I have a long post on my full story on another subreddit on my profile if you want more context.
My "mother" is a vile, awful person who has committed heinous and despicable acts. To make an extremely long story short, I grew up in an unstable household. My dad wasn't around and my mom was unwilling to work to support us. I was pawned off to my grandparents who lived with us, and they were more parents to me than my actual parents were. Everything my mom has done has been to fuel her ego, and as with many narcissists, to seek validation to reinforce her nonexistent identity outside external validation. She needs validation constantly on how young and beautiful she looks, how rich and great she is, and how she is an excellent and caring mom. Yet a good mother wouldn't have had me and my siblings and grandparents living in a former drug house infested with millions of roaches, rats, black mold, and on again off again running water and electricity. A good mom also wouldn't have sat around having parties and drinking while I, at 15 years of age and two senior citizens, broke our backs trying to sell and rent party supplies and carrying an 800 lb bounce house to customers that wanted to rent them. I worked at 15 like a Victorian boy instead of going to school trying to make ends meet because my parents wouldn't. My "mother" has done everything evil you can think of, from scamming and stealing from innocent people, catfishing other men (while with my stepdad), pretending to be my sister online for validation and money, forcing my sister to be a model and hook up with much older men for the promise of advancement (she was 17 and these men where in there 30s or older), spies on my widowed sister-in-law, had me living in deplorable conditions and having me eat old food infested with roaches and rat droppings, conducting illegal gambling business and money laundering, kept the fact that (some of) my siblings are adopted from them, baby trapped my stepdad, had little to no concern for my mental health and did not help or try to accommodate my sensory issues (I suspect I may have level 1 autism, mostly with sensory issues) and much, much, much more. I have been going to therapy and am currently doing emdr to undo the damage that my evil "mother" has done. She is a master of manipulation, love bombing, and buying people's love, loyalty, and affection. I, for the second time, have gone no contact with her.
Now that there's some context, my grandmother means everything to me. She lives in a convalescent home and my mom has control over her. I wanted to see her on Mother's Day. My mom asked if I was going to come to lunch. I said we were visiting my wife's mom, then coming to the house later at 5. She said that was not going to work because they were going to eat at 1. I said, OK well, if we can't do the restaurant, then take her to the house, so we can all visit her at 5. She said she couldn't do that, and why couldn't we just go to eat with them and then, IF there's time, we could go to my mother-in-law's house for a little bit. I said no, everything has been arranged already, and as usual you don't inform anyone of plans and expect everyone last second to cancel theirs and do yours. We were going to make my mother-in-law a priority, however, there was time for both. She got mad and said she would not be bringing my grandma to the house and I guess that was it. I said, well, I guess it is. On Mother's Day, I called my grandma, and she was upset and crying, asking why I hadn't seen her, and that she had come to visit the house. My mom took her to the house after lunch and didn't tell me. Neither did any of my other family. She said that she wanted to come back home and didn't want to live at the facility. She is fairly healthy and in reality, doesn't need to be at the facility. After talking to her, I confronted my mom and said that I explicitly told you that I wanted to see Grandma, and you said you were NOT bringing her to the house. You did bring her to the house and intentionally did not tell me. Because I did not bow down and follow your commands like everyone else, you deliberately orchestrated this, so I would not see her in an act of revenge to spite me. There was no reason you couldn't have called or texted and told me you were bringing her, especially after I told you I wanted to see her, even if it was at the last minute. It was an intentional act. She just said you are always talking shit about me. I told her it's not talking shit if it's true. She then hung up. This is what she does. If you don't follow the Führers command, bow at her feet, and tell her how wonderful and gracious she is, she will seek vengeance and do things to spite you, to bring glory for herself.
My grandma told me that my "mom" mistreats her, and is collecting pay from the government pretending to be her caretaker (when in reality my mom does absolutely nothing and has no job whatsoever. She dedicates her life to crime, fraud, and scams. She ran an underground casino with my stepdad and when they got busted my stepdad took the fall) but instead dumped her in a conversant home and does not care for her at all. Besides all that, my grandma also stated that she takes all of her social security money and keeps it. This is not surprising because my nephew, who is technically an orphan, having lost both parents recently, is under the custody of my horrible "mother" and he had some kind of inheritance left for him. When my "mother" discovered this, she swept in and wiped it clean. Her greed is deplorable. Wherever there is money, the Sheriff of Nottingham will do anything to get every last coin wherever she can get it. She even charges people $5 to use the washing machine. The most important thing to my "mother" is herself and her endless black hole of needing to be validated and praised, along with the endless black hole of greed. It is her entire identity. I am so enraged, and I can not let these things happen. When will my "mother" face consequences for her actions? She cannot continue to commit evil acts and not only get away with them but also prosper because of it. One of the worst parts, however, is that everyone, even if they have their problems with her, always goes along with what the dear leader says and continues to enable her by telling her she's a good mom and that they appreciate her. She needs to face consequences for her actions, but I don't know what to do. She can't continue to harm people and get away with it. I need help.

Hey everyone,
This is really just me venting and needing a space to let the thoughts in my mind go. You can ignore this post if you want but if you feel interested, please be my guest to stay and read but be warned as I'm not sure but it could be triggering to some people. I don't know but air on the side of caution.
All my life, I've always grew up feeling not "the same" as those around me. I was even ostracized by those around me and even if I tried, I felt awkward and like I'm lying to myself. Those around me probably felt the uncanney valley feeling with my attempts as well. No matter what, it was a lost cause.
That doesn't change the fact I try to find my own way and niche in life. Trying to carve out my own path that makes me feel confident, happy, and uniquely present. But even when I do, I feel like I can never fully "reach" that goal of "being". Being as in outwardly projecting the internal person I am. For me to feel as if my external self matches my internal self.
Below, I'll begin to give more specific instances that I do to compare myself to others if you would like a better insight into what I mean personally to me.
I try to change up my hair but it never comes out right due to my sebhorhoeic dermatitis, the fact that I truly have no one around me that can do my hair properly, and the fact that I can't keep up with it. I look at others around me who have healthy, beautiful hair that I would love to have and it makes me feel terrible about myself. Makes me feel as if I'm less than or not taking care of my hygiene when I know very good and well that it's because I have a skin condition that makes it difficult. Not only that, with me being black and having thick, 4c hair, doing my hair isn't cheap. Taking care of my hair isn't cheap. Having others do my hair isn't cheap. And I struggle with money already due to so many other things. So it's like I'm at a constant battle of trying to be confident with what I have but looking at others and being ashamed of myself.
Another example is clothing. Like I said previously, money is an obstacle in my life and always has so I haven't ever really been able to have clothing that makes me confident and happy up until recently in the last few years. Problem with that though is like I said before, I feel like I'm doing enough or don't have enough or not "doing it properly". I love fashion. I'm actively into fashion, but I can't dress well because the clothing I would like to wear doesn't come in my size. I'm a small man with a smaller waist and interesting proportions and so clothes are always too big. People tell me to shop in the boys section but that's the thing, I can't. I'm too big for boys clothes and too small for men's. I'm in the middle ground and it makes me upset. It's like I'd have to get my clothes tailored or look far and wide, online only, to then come up empty handed or articles that are way too expensive for me to purchase in my range. And I've tried thrifting but there's nothing for me in my area that I would like to wear or would fit me. So I look at other people around me dressing well, doing what I would love to do and it echos in my mind and makes me feel like I'm not fit to even try.
It even comes down to my face or my body. Looking at it and hyperfocusing on it and not appreciating who I am enough and being confident in physical self. The dermatitis making me feel disgusting at points. Me not liking my assymetrical features. Me thinking that others believe I'm ugly and so on and so on.
It's bothersome and I wish I didn't care or was just happy with myself. But because I feel like everything that I want for myself is obtainable, it makes me just disappointed in myself.

The Hanging Tree By John Westrick

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.
“Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.
A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher's mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”
An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you're the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”
The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.
“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.
Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.
A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.
“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.
David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”
The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.
No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.
It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn't have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.
The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.
It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.
Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.
She was gone when he woke and didn't come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn't there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn't really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.
As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.
This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.
If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.
Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.
But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.
A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.
Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.
“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn't real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.
In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.
“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.
“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.
The boy's mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.
His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”
A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child's tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.
“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.
“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.
The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.
The moment has come.
Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.
Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.
The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.
It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.
Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.
He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.
Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It's about time, someone comes looking for me. I've been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”
With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you've been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.
Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.
The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys' eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.
The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.
With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.
Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.
Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.
“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.
“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.
“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.
Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”
Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.
Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.
“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.
A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”
Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”
“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.
Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.
Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.
The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.

As an ugly black man I’m not seen as a person, I’m seen as a joke, a big ogre. a monster. Being ugly is the worst. Worse than death. I am the ugliest man in the world, with undoubtedly the most hated on race so I literally am going through it everyday. No,
I’m not saying all women either because a couple of days ago there was this hot white girl at the donut shop we had a convo and she bought me a free donut. Also my friend “E” is so nice I was thirsty and she let me drink some of her sprite. And she lets me smoke weed with her. Since I don’t got my own rn 😭.
Anyways at work I mind my own business I usually only mess with the dudes at work since I know a woman would feel uncomfortable and just tell HR if I even just stand near her. So I keep my respectable distance and I don’t say a word to them unless they talk to me. But somehow someway. My friends (I’m literally bestfriends with every guy at the jobk) they told me that a girl “doesn’t like me”
What the fuck? What did I do this time? A girl who I’ve never even said a word to doesn’t like me lmao. They tried to say “she’s jealous ppl like you way more than they like her” but I wanna really dissect why she feels the need to talk shit about a person she hasn’t ever crossed paths with? As stupid as that sounds that’s the reality of ugly men, people have a problem with you for just existing. Not the first time this will happen def not the last.
my manager hates me too. My friend fucked her and she admitted to him she gives the ugly guys the hardest jobs and the handsome dudes the easiest ones…. Guess who gets assigned to the hardest job everyday…. Me.
Today They told me to teach a new hire girl how to do something and she looked so scared of me like she wanted to cry. I knew for a fact if I accidentally looked her in the eyes or maybe accidentally get more close than 8 feet I’m probably going to get a complaint and fired. So I asked my woman homie to handle it. Apparently she told me the girl thought I was staring at her boobs even tho I took a glance at her for less than 1 millisecond. I was looking at her dirty ass brown stained shirt but I’m a creep right?
Also one last thing. There’s 2 other girls that I’m friends with who I lowkey have a crush on. They know I have a crush on them and they think it’s so funny to tease me. Telling literally everyone. So embarrassing. Think it’s time for a new job.
I just can’t get over the fact that women online say “all we want is for ugly/ creepy men to stay away from us” and that’s what I’m doing but I’m so ugly and creepy that even if I literally just do my own thing there’s someone hating on me because I’m not attractive. I do want a gf one day but I really want to be left alone and I want to rest, from this endless torment.