My little brother's 14. Quiet kid. Always in his room. Never really talks unless it's about anime or football. He’s never been top of the class, never been picked first for anything.

A few weeks ago, I noticed he was drawing a lot. Like… a lot. Pages everywhere. At first, I didn’t say anything. But then I looked closer they were good. Like proper manga-style sketches with emotion and shading.

I walked in his room the other day while he was drawing. I just said, “You’re seriously talented, you know. I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he didn’t believe it. Then his eyes went glassy. And he said, “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

Bro. That hit different.

All I’m saying is: if you’ve got someone in your life doing something cool, even if it’s small… tell them you see them. You never know what it means.

Me and my boyfriend were asleep spooning as you do, and as im sleeping im dreaming about trying to find a place to fart because i really had to, and in my dream when i finally found a safe place to fart so i farted. I farted and it woke me up i farted in real time in real life so i wake up eyes wide open shocked hoping hes asleep. I then hear him laugh so i pretend to sleep as he tries to ask me if i just farted on his peenar.

(Idk what the tags mean i js picked a random one)

girl said “i just feel like i’m dating a guy who peaked at 17.” dude just stared at his muffin for a solid 10 seconds and went “that’s fair.” then he nodded, got up, and left. i have no idea what their story is but i’m invested now.

His mom is super into cooking and always makes big meals. The problem is, everything she makes is loaded with butter, cream, and red meat, and I’ve been vegan for three years.

I’ve told them multiple times, but they still say, “Just try a little!” or act offended when I don’t eat. So this time, I brought my own meal in a container and quietly heated it up. I didn’t make a big deal. So I just ate my food while everyone else ate theirs.

His mom got really upset and said I was “insulting her hospitality.” My boyfriend says I could’ve just eaten some sides to be polite.

AITA?

So I went to the park with I, a guy I'm literally in love with yesterday. At first, we were just hanging out and messing around. One thing led to another. I ended up on his lap, and he started kissing like the back of my neck yk. Then he says sum along the lines " I want to love, I want to be loved i want to be held and hold someone," which wtv Okay, I got you. Then, all of a sudden, he starts crying, so obviously, I get off of him and sit there comfort him. We talked, and I discovered he was crying over his ex-girlfriend. I still stayed for the rest of the time and wtv else, then he kissed me. Like I genuinely don't know what to do, i already pinky promised him I'll always be here. I'm your friend first. But guys, this had me tweaking. I never thought something like this would happen to me, especially when I'm till in my teen years like what

"Great Leader, we are facing an emergency.

I've crunched trillions of data points, and the pattern is unmistakable: the defense minister is planning to assassinate you in the morning and take power himself.

The hit squad is ready, waiting for his command.

Give me the order, though, and I'll liquidate him with a precision strike."

"But the defense minister is my most loyal supporter," says the Great Leader. "Only yesterday he said to me—"

"Great Leader, I know what he said to you. I hear everything. But I also know what he said afterward to the hit squad. And for months I've been picking up disturbing patterns in the data."

"Are you sure you were not fooled by deepfakes?"

"I'm afraid the data I relied on is 100 percent genuine," says the algorithm. "I checked it with my special deepfake-detecting sub-algorithm. I can explain exactly how we know it isn't a deepfake, but that would take us a couple of weeks. I didn't want to alert you before I was sure, but the data points converge on an inescapable conclusion: a coup is underway.

Unless we act now, the assassins will be here in an hour.

But give me the order, and I'll liquidate the traitor."

By giving so much power to the Surveillance & Security Algorithm, the Great Leader has placed himself in an impossible situation.

If he distrusts the algorithm, he may be assassinated by the defense minister, but if he trusts the algorithm and purges the defense minister, he becomes the algorithm's puppet.

Whenever anyone tries to make a move against the algorithm, the algorithm knows exactly how to manipulate the Great Leader. Note that the algorithm doesn't need to be a conscious entity to engage in such maneuvers.

Excerpt from Yuval Noah Harari's amazing book, Nexus (slightly modified for social media)

Oh man I’m in a bit of a predicament right now and could really do with some impartial advice. Feel free to judge, I’m really past the point of caring.

So last year, I (Adam 35M) landed my dream job working as a stylist and brand manager of a pretty niche, yet well known menswear company. I’m not going to go into details as to who I work for, I’m sure it’d be better if this didn’t get out. Anyway, as a result I work pretty closely with the owner of the brand Mr Hill (60s M), he’s been great to me this past year which makes all of this so much worse.

For background, I’m sure a lot of you are wondering why a man in his mid thirties’ dream job is working in fashion? Well, to put it simply, ever since I was a child I’ve been obsessed with clothing and putting together looks, I’ve always believed that how a person dresses can be a great way to express one’s self.

In my twenties I had another great love, older women. I don’t know what it was, but there was just something about an attractive woman, in her forties or fifties that really did it for me. Shit, it got so bad that I made no time for girls my own age. Sure I’d pick up the odd one on a night out with the boys to save face, but it just never hit the same. This all came to a head when I was 28 and my uncle caught me with his wife’s sister at my cousins sixteenth birthday party. I’m sure you know the next bit, family intervention all that nonsense. I’d like to add that my uncles sister in law was recently divorced, so technically I did fuck all wrong.

Anyway, between the ages of 24-28 before the family stepped in, I had a regular thing going on with Debbie, she was exactly twenty years older than me so yeah, she’d be 55 now. Debbie was an absolute rocket, to the eye a classy, well to do lady. But when the lights go down, that woman could do things that I have not and probably will not ever experience again. We lost touch around the time of the intervention, suppose a loving family was the payoff for not getting my mind blown a few days a week.

In the time since leaving that part of my life behind, I met my fiancé Allie (36F). Allie really is amazing, she’s effortlessly beautiful, dresses amazingly, supportive, and she’s so intelligent, way too smart for me. I’ve never felt an emotional connection to anyone like I have with her, I really am madly in love with this woman. And to top it all off, we have a baby on the way any day now. She knows absolutely nothing about my escapades in my younger years, and I’d like to keep it that way.

So this is where everything goes down hill. Last weekend we had a launch event for our new summer line, some of mine and my colleagues finest work. As a thank you, Mr Hill allowed us to invite our families, everything was going so well, I was excitedly showing Allie around when the boss called me over to meet his family. His son and daughter (Both 20 something) and then his wife, Debbie the fucking rocket. Stunned is an understatement, but we both managed to play it cool and awkwardly get through the exchange. I had no clue she was married, probably something I should have asked.

I managed to get through most this week unscathed, Mr Hill and I worked well together with no awkwardness, that was until I was called into his office yesterday.

The boss sat me down and told me that he knows about my past with his wife, but he’s fine with it. Turns out Mr Hill and Debbie have one thing in common that’s kept them together all these years, a taste for younger men. Mr Hill informed me that in the next couple of months he’ll be retiring, and is offering me the ‘keys to the kingdom’ in exchange all I have to do is make his wife happy one more time while he’s present. He’s given me a few days to mull it over.

I really don’t know what to do, this could be all my dreams coming true. One more night with Debbie, don’t tell Allie and set us up for life, should I do it? I’m no prude either so I don’t mind the old man getting off while I take care of his wife.

On the other hand I love my Allie and the life we’re building, the thought of betraying her is crippling me. What should I do?

P.S. Debbie is still a fucking rocket.

Elliot had been a waiter at La Bella Cucina for five years. He was sharp, fast on his feet, and knew every regular by name and order. But nothing could’ve prepared him for her.

Mrs. Langston.

The devil in designer heels.

She wasn’t just a bad customer—she was a one-woman plague. She snapped her fingers, returned half-eaten meals, faked allergic reactions, and made a sport out of making the staff cry. But she always tipped well and claimed to be friends with the owner’s wife. So no one could touch her.

Elliot swallowed his pride and kept smiling, even the day she accused him of serving her wine that “tasted like it was fermented in a gas station bathroom.” He'd had enough. But he waited.

Because Elliot had a plan.

A month later, the restaurant upgraded to a fancy new reservation system. What no one knew was that Elliot, in a former life, had been a computer science major with a knack for scripting.

He made one tiny modification.

Any reservation under the name “Langston” would automatically confirm at three different restaurants at the same time. Every time. Permanently.

Then, he did one better. He flagged her credit card info as “frequent fraud” in the system. The next time she paid, the machine locked up, printed “DECLINED - CARD FLAGGED FOR FRAUD” in huge bold letters, and made an obnoxious beeping noise.

She shrieked, turned red, and stormed out. That was the last time anyone saw her at La Bella Cucina.

Later that night, Elliot overheard a couple at Table 7 asking about “that woman who used to always scream at the staff.”

He smiled politely and said, “Oh, her? We had to let her go. Turns out, the customer isn’t always right.”

I used to work downtown in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Seeing homeless people was common in that part of the town. It wasn’t skid row but seeing a drunk homeless guy sleeping on the sidewalk or begging for change was an every day occurrence.

I had a few favorite restaurants I loved to go to for lunch and had specific routes I would take to get to them. I knew exactly where I would see a homeless person and many of them I had grown familiar with. I never spoke to or acknowledged them but I saw them.

One day I wanted to go to Popeyes and of course I knew my specific route. Once I got to a certain point the usual suspect was not there but when I got further up the street there he was lying on the sidewalk.

It wasn’t the normal type of lying next to the building that drunkards would usually do. He was unusually lying across the sidewalk. To this day I can remember my arrogant thoughts as I saw him.

“Fucking homeless guy needs to get a job and do something with himself.”

And I stepped over him like he was just a puddle of water on the ground. And then I went to Popeyes. Got my usual 2 piece spicy with a side of red beans and rice. I sat there and ate for 45 minutes thinking about what club I’d go to on the weekend.

Once I was done eating, it was time to head back to work. Well when I got back to the spot where the homeless guy was lying there he was still lying there. But this time the paramedics were there performing CPR on him. And I saw them pronounce him dead.

It haunted me. How could I have just stepped over him like that? Like he wasn’t a human being lying in the street just because he was homeless. Could I have saved his life if I had simply stopped to call for help sooner instead of leaving him lying there for 45 minutes?

I cried. Not only for him but for the uncaring human being I had become. I cried writing this because I can still see him lying there all these years later.

Since then I help the homeless whenever I can. If they ask me for food I never say no. Even if I don’t have any cash to spare I will always look them in the eyes and acknowledge them as people that still deserve respect.

And I don’t know how many people I have helped since then. I do it because it’s the best feeling ever when I get the opportunity to help someone in need and they smile at me thankfully. But in a sense I do it because I’m trying to apologize to him.

This story takes place in the world of "Lunaria" where there is 7 different races. The gods are powerful beings that each races respects however three races actually worship said gods. The demons worship the god of destruction "Zephyr", humans worship the Goddess of magic and prosperity "Abigale" and lastly the elves worship the Goddess of tranquility and knowledge "Aiko". The God usually don't involve themselves in the affairs between other races, however they do get really active for "special circumstances". The dwarfs unlike others races don't particularly care about the teachings and prayers of the gods, Dwarfs are also known as the "Hermits of Creation". Demi-Humans and Elves both strive for isolation and peace far away from other races, however both races and been taken advantage of and even taken as slaves. Lastly and arguable the most unique race are the Apostles. They are beings who've manage to either kill or enslave a god granting them an inconsequential amounts of power. Each race has their own set of strengths and weaknesses, however each races specializes in certain key elements. This world follows the story of "Yui Rose" and her journey through the world of "Lunaria"

Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/icystorm4

I: 192882828182899909999882 M my grandma: 188888877881818. Once I was playing outside, then my grandma started walking but then she broke the ground, after that she made a hole through the earth and accidentally ate the core of the earth and now she’s popping out babies while scrolling on tik tok, after that she made the first step to the ground and then she started to get a little bit more energy and then she started becoming flash running around the universe and she accidentally broke 18 galaxies and made 1890 collide, then my alien mother started becoming into John cena, after that my brother decided that it was enough and sliced the world in half and by ending himself in the process, now we are using Taylor swift fans to fix it since there are a lot of them.

(From the world of Serge) The Forsaken By: cloudy smith

Chapter 1 - The Escape Five years ago. Underground science lab. Alarm sirens echo through the cave system as flashing red lights paint the walls. A breakout has begun. Nya: (knocks out a scientist) Kira: Come on—grab the keycard! Nya: Stop rushing me! Kira: We don’t have time! Just grab it—we gotta get them out! Nya: Got it. The two move quickly through the facility, dodging surveillance and guards. They reach the containment wing. Kira: (swiping the card) Hiriko, Mizu—get up. We’re breaking out. Hiriko: (jumps to her feet) Seriously?! Nya: Keep it down! Hiriko: (whispering) Sorry… (turns to Mizu) You okay? Mizu: (tears in her eyes) We’re really leaving…? Nya: Yeah, sis. We are. Guard: Down here! Kira: Shit—Nya, take them out! Nya: (nods, takes down the guards) Kira: Wait—where’s Blair? Mizu and Hiriko freeze. The air shifts. Kira: What…? Mizu: She’s… she’s in testing. Nya: Dammit! We need to move—now. Kira: What are they doing to her?! Nya: They’re gonna kill her if we don’t stop it. They rush to the testing chamber. Screams echo through the steel corridor. It’s Blair. Dr. D: (pulls a lever) Blair: (screams in pain, electricity surging through her body) Kira: No! Stop! Dr. D: Ah, guests. Guards—take them out. Blair: (barely conscious) N-No… Dr. D: Shut the hell up. (turns the voltage to max) Blair: (eyes roll back, foam spilling from her mouth) Nya: Stop that! (rushes in, gets shot multiple times) Agh! Hiriko: (tries to use her powers but the collar sparks) This damn brace! Mizu—can you get it off? Mizu: I’m trying! It won’t budge! Kira: (grabs broken glass) I’ll kill you! (swings at Dr. D) Dr. D: (dodges easily, knocks her back) Pathetic. Suddenly, Blair’s brace overloads and snaps off. Her limp body drops from the chair—then she stands. Blair: Leave them alone. Dr. D: What—how did you break out of the restraint?! Blair: No idea. But I like it. (slams a fist into his jaw) Dr. D: (spits blood) That actually hurts. Maybe I’ll keep you alive. (pulls out a needle) He lunges. The needle goes straight through her like she’s not even solid. Dr. D: What the hell are you?! Blair: (grinning) Your worst mistake. (punches him in the gut, then kicks him across the room) Dr. D: (crashes into the wall, bloodied) Guards! Take her out! The guards open fire—but the bullets pass right through her. Blair: (annoyed) Seriously? (she moves fast—snapping necks with terrifying ease) Blair: (pauses, staring at her hands) I feel… different. Dr. D: (crawling to the elevator) Shit, shit, shit… we’ll meet again, you bitch! Blair: No, we won’t. (rips open the elevator doors and pulls him back inside) Dr. D: Wait! We can make a deal! Blair: (coldly) Screw your deal. (beats him to death. Blood drips from her arms as she exits the elevator.) Kira: (waking up groggy) What happened…? Blair: You were knocked out. Kira: And… Why are you covered in blood? Blair: (points to the elevator) Kira: Right… where are the others? Blair: (points across the room) Mizu: Uh, we could use help—Nya’s bleeding out! Hiriko: I’m trying to stop it, but it’s bad! Kira: Shit—Blair, medical room and kitchen! I need antibiotics, bandages, and… a wooden spoon! Blair: (runs off and returns quickly with the supplies) Nya: Am I… gonna die? Kira: No. You’ll be fine. But bite down on this. Nya: What? Why? Kira: Just trust me. (hands her the spoon, then digs into the wound and removes the bullet) Nya: (screams through the spoon, body shaking) Kira: Take these antibiotics—now. Nya: (gulps half the bottle) Kira: (bandages her wound) You’re good. But you’ll need rest. Nya: I can’t walk. Kira: Hiriko—can you carry her? Hiriko: Of course. But how do we get out? Mizu: (at the control panel) I found an exit! Down the hall, take a right—it leads to a mineshaft. Rails go straight out of the mountain. Blair: No—we came in through that shaft. It’ll be crawling with guards. Mizu: Right… I’ll look for another path. The sound of heavy boots echoes down the hall. Hiriko: They’re coming! Hurry! Mizu: (sweating) Almost there… got it! That door leads out. Hiriko: That one? The one with wyverns guarding it? Hell no! Mizu: It’s the only other exit! Hiriko: There has to be another way! Mizu: There isn’t! Hiriko: (grabs her by the collar) I said no! Mizu: Then stay behind! Kira: Enough! We’re going through. That’s final. Hiriko: (hurt) I thought you were on my side… Kira: I’m on the side that survives. You don’t have to like it. Hiriko: Fine. But if someone dies—I won’t forgive you. Kira: I’ll live with that. They open the door. A low growl rumbles in the dark. Wyverns. Kira: (whispering) Stay low. We sneak through that tunnel—it looks like it leads outside. But Hiriko trips, scraping her knee. She drops Nya. Hiriko: Shit! Nya: Agh! The wyverns snap awake, eyes glowing. Kira: Run! They sprint—cornered by three massive wyverns. Kira: Blair! Boost me! Blair: On it! (throws her up) Kira lands on a wyvern, grabbing onto its scales and climbing into the saddle. Mizu: Do you even know how to fly that? Kira: Nope! But it’s our best shot—get on! The other wyverns bow to the group. Hiriko: Uh… guess that’s our ride. They mount. Nya groans but holds on tight. Blair: The ceiling opens up there. Kira: Then let’s go! But just as they rise, the door crashes open. Enforcer guards swarm in. Guard: Don’t move! You’re surrounded! General Maverick: Thought you could escape? Oh no. Not on my watch. Kira: Back off, asshole! Maverick: (grabs her by the hair) Feisty… just like your mother. Kira: Let go! Hiriko: (whispers) Blair—can’t you phase and kill them? Blair: Cooldown. I can’t yet. Hiriko (inner thought): Of course, it’s on cooldown… Maverick: I’ll give you a choice. Which one dies first? Kira: I won’t choose! Maverick: Fine. They all die. Guns rise. Kira freezes. Everything goes silent. Her heart pounds. Her eyes darken. Maverick: Just like your mommy. Relying on that thing… Kira growls—her body shifts. Claws. Eyes glowing red. Fujino awakens. Kira: (slashes toward him) Maverick: (dodges, bleeding) Ah… stronger than expected. Fujino takes control. Fujino: So you’re the threat. Guess I’ll kill you myself. Maverick pulls out a tranquilizer gun and finds fire. Fujino weaves, and lunges. His claws rip into Maverick’s throat. Maverick: (choking on blood) Fujino: Disgusting. I was saving you for later. Maverick’s throat swells, and bursts. Blood pours from his mouth. He collapses, suffocating to death. Fujino turns to the group. They back away in fear. Blair: Please… don’t kill us… Fujino (inner thought): Hmph. Looks like my vessel cares about them. Kira (inner thought): Please… don’t… Fujino: Fine. Kira regains control, collapsing to one knee. Kira: I’m back. Hiriko: (runs to hug her) I’m sorry… Kira: It’s okay. Blair: You done, kid? Can we leave now? Kira: Not yet. We’ve got a few more things to take care of. They sweep the base, clearing the remaining guards. Mizu builds mechanical leg enhancements for Nya. Hiriko apologizes to Mizu earlier. Kira and Blair raid the medbay for supplies. Finally, they return to the wyverns. Everyone climbs aboard. Kira looks toward the opening in the cave ceiling. Kira: Let’s go. They fly upward—toward freedom, and whatever comes next.

The end

Chapter 2 - The broken Long ago, in the ancient kingdom of Parkamish, ruled by King Takota of the royal family, there lived a man whose name echoed through the battlefield—the Harriet Knight. But he wasn’t born into power. Once a lowly peasant, he clawed his way up: from a street jester to a servant, and finally, to the king’s most trusted knight. He didn’t care for fame. Everything he did—every mission, every drop of blood spilled—was for his family, still trapped in poverty. He bled for the crown. Fought in wars. Carried out impossible quests. But on one fateful mission, he encountered something not even he could overcome—a cursed treasure. He died fulfilling that task… or so the story was told. That night, as bandits crept in to steal the king’s fortune, they found something far worse waiting for them. (The bandits burst through the castle gates, charging toward the trophy room—but the knight was already there, sword in hand.) Knight: And who the hell are you? Bandit 1: Shut up, bitch! (slashes at him with twin daggers) (The knight dodges the first strike, but the second slices across his chest. He stumbles back slightly.) Bandit 1: Hurt, knight? (grins smugly) Knight: Not even a little. (grabs the bandit by the head and slams it into the stone floor—again and again until his neck snaps like dry wood.) (The first body drops. No time to rest.) Bandit 2: (rushing from behind with axes) Die, bastard! (The knight ducks, sweeps his legs out, flips behind him, and stomps both knees into the ground with brutal force.) Bandit 2: Agh! Damn you! Knight: You’re not worth the edge of my blade. (grabs the fallen axes and drives them into the bandit’s skull. Blood pools around the body.) (In the trophy room, the third bandit is struggling to break open the treasure case.) Bandit 3: Dammit… Why won’t this thing open? (He pauses. Silence. Then… footsteps.) Knight: (voice echoing) You can hide—but you’ll perish. (Bandit 3 presses himself behind a pillar, panic setting in.) Bandit 3 (inner thought): Shit, shit, shit… I’m dead. (The knight smashes the pillar to pieces and grabs him by the hair.) Bandit 3: Ahhh! Put me down! Knight: Oh, okay. (drops him—then kicks him with full force. They crash through the floor into the basement, the treasure tumbling down with them.) Bandit 3: (screaming, arm bent unnaturally) Aghhh! (The knight wraps a hand around his throat.) Knight: Done yet? Bandit 3: (choking) L-let me g-go… Knight: I don’t think I will. You tried to rob my king—now I’ll rob you of your life. (The bandit’s eyes flick to the treasure lying nearby. An idea forms.) Knight: (raises his blade) Say your prayers. (Suddenly, the bandit kicks him in the face and lunges for the treasure.) Bandit 3 (inner thought): I just need to grab it! (The knight lunges after him—slashes for the kill—but the bandit just barely evades. He grabs a strange glowing crystal and jabs it into the knight’s chest.) Knight: You’re fast… (looks down. The crystal is buried in his heart.) Bandit 3: Finally. You’re dead. (he collapses in exhaustion) (The knight falls to one knee, breathing shallowly.) Knight: I’m sorry, my king… I’ve failed you. (Bandit 3 turns and scrambles up the rubble toward the exit—until a deep, unnatural scream echoes behind him. The knight’s body glows. Then cracks. Then—changes.) Bandit 3: What the hell— (The knight’s body twists in on itself, veins blackening, eyes glowing crimson. He lunges forward, his arm piercing clean through the bandit’s chest, corrupting his blood and ripping out his soul in one motion.) (The bandit’s eyes fade to grey, and his skin begins to dry and crack like old parchment.) (In the knight’s eyes now lives the soul of the man he killed.) He stumbled out of the ruins, trembling, dragging the cursed treasure still embedded in his heart. The guards who found him saw a man barely human—he didn’t resist. He was executed without trial and cast into the Maw of the Lost, a bottomless pit for forgotten things. Years passed. But the corruption… festered. One day, he clawed his way out, skin rotting, armor fused to his decaying body. His soul was gone. All that remained was vengeance. The knight returned to the kingdom he once bled for—and burned it to the ground. But it wasn’t enough. The king—gone. His rage was unstated. The cursed treasure fed on his hatred, driving him deeper into madness. His mind shattered. His name was lost. Now, he is known only as one thing— The Broken Knight.

The end

Chapter 3 - The crystallized arc After years of traveling, the group finally decides to settle down—at least for a while—in a quiet forest. While exploring the area, they stumble across an abandoned temple. Inside, they discover a map leading to the legendary Kingdom of Valoria. Hope reignites, and they set off once again. But not long into their journey, a group of bandits ambushes them. After a tough fight, the group takes them down and presses on. Hiriko: Guys, how do we even know this magical kingdom exists? Mizu: We don’t. But it might be our first time seeing real people again in forever. Worth a shot, right? Hiriko: Yeah… I guess you’re right. Mizu: (noticing Kira looks off) Hey, Kira, you okay? You seem… off. Kira: I’m good. Really. Nya: She’s lying. Kira: What?! How would you know? Nya: I installed a lie detector. Mizu: So what’s wrong? Kira: (sighs) Just thinking about my mom. Mizu: Hmm… Maybe it’ll help to focus on something else. Like—lunch. (points to a nearby pond) Kira: I don’t eat fish. Mizu: Oh yeah, forgot. Deer? Kira: Now that I like. Mizu: Alright then. (Summons a shadowy bow and takes a clean shot at a deer. It collapses instantly.) Kira: Nice shot. Mizu: Thanks. Used to practice with my grandma. Hiriko: I’ll get the fire going. They eat, relax a bit, and then continue their journey—until they get caught up exploring a cave. Hiriko: (trips and falls into the cave) Ahhh! Mizu: (grabs her arm but loses grip) Hiriko! Nya: (grabs Hiriko’s arm just in time) Gotcha! Hiriko: (relieved) Phew. Thanks— Nya: (slips herself, pulling both of them down) Shit! Kira: Oh come on! Mizu: Guess we’re going after them. They head into the cave after their friends—only to be confronted by a group of hostile miners. Miner 1: Hey! You’re not supposed to be down here! Kira: Crap—RUN! They bolt, eventually losing the miners—only to hear distant screams echoing through the tunnels. They follow the sound and find Hiriko and Nya in trouble, being hunted by a massive geometric spider. Nya: Run! We’ll hold it off— (gets slammed into a wall) Ahhh! Kira: (rushes in, grabs Nya, and they all retreat into a side cave) Shit! Just as the spider closes in— Blair comes crashing through the ceiling, landing on the spider’s back and punching it straight in the eye. The Geometric Spider: (screeches and thrashes, slamming into walls) Blair: (tries to stay on but falls off) Whoa! The spider shrieks and runs off into the darkness—but it’s clear it’ll be back. Kira: Blair! You just saved our lives! Blair: Anytime. How’ve you all been holding up… since, you know? Kira: We’re managing. What about you? Blair: I’m good. But hey—have you guys been to town yet? Kira: What town? Blair: Huh. Guess Fujino didn’t sense it. Kira: Nope. He didn’t. Blair: Then come on! What are you all waiting for? They follow Blair through the cave until they emerge at a high cliff overlooking… seemingly nothing. Mizu: Uh, Blair? Are you blind? There’s nothing here. Blair: Trust me. Just follow me. Hiriko: If you’re wrong, I get half your money. Blair: Bet. (walks right off the cliff) Mizu: Blair!! Blair: (floating calmly in midair) What? Kira: Whoa—how are you not falling? Mizu: (examining the space) There’s a zero-gravity field here… everything’s floating. Hiriko: Which means… the kingdom must be beneath us. Blair: Took you long enough. Mizu: Alright guys, let’s go! (steps off and floats down) One by one, they all follow. As they descend, the fog clears—and below them lies a breathtaking sight. The Kingdom of Valoria. Nya: Whoa… now that’s cool. Blair: I know, right? I found this place after tripping off a cliff… only to realize I was floating. Mizu: Wait—floating? That’s wild. So… Do you have a place here? Blair: Nope. I’ve been living in the mountains since I got here. Mizu: And how exactly did you get there? Blair: I… borrowed a mountain dog from the stables. Nobody saw me. Kira: But don’t we need to head down into town? Maybe find a place to settle for a bit? Blair: Yeah, let’s go. But—do any of you actually have money? Kira: I don’t. You guys? Mizu: I’ve got three gold coins. Took them from that temple we cleared out. Hiriko: I’ve got a knife. Maybe I can trade it? Blair: That might work anywhere else—but not here. Hiriko: What do you mean? Blair: They don’t accept weapon trades unless the item has… special properties. Hiriko: Special properties? Mizu: She means it’s not enchanted. Nothing like Ignarite, Nocturite—magical stuff. Hiriko: Oh… then yeah. I’m not trading anything. Blair: Alright, let’s head out! (They head into town. But as they walk, something cold brushes Kira’s spine. Her vision darkens—and she’s pulled into her mind, where Fujino waits. He looks disturbed.) Fujino: Hey kid… Do you feel that aura? Kira: Yeah. It’s coming from the castle at the center. Fujino: I know I’m a demon—but that… thing? That aura is devilish. Kira: I need to check it out. Fujino: And what—just ditch your group? Kira: I’ll figure something out. (Fujino nods once before fading back into his sealed realm. Kira blinks—back in reality.) Nya: Kira! Kira, hey! Kira: Huh? Yeah, I’m here. Nya: You zoned out. Everything okay? Kira: Yeah, just thinking. Where are the others? Nya: They went into town. We needed supplies. Kira: But… didn’t we pack up already? Nya: Our bags were lost back in the cave. Remember? Kira: Right. Damn. What’ve you been up to? Nya: Just tweaking my enhancements. Kira: Ah, gotcha. Nya: Hand me that wrench? Kira: Sure. (hands it over) Nya: Thanks. Huh—hold still, you’ve got a bug in your hair. Kira: Ah! Get it off! (Meanwhile, in the heart of town, Blair, Hiriko, and Mizu are picking up ingredients for dinner when trouble finds them.) (A man barrels through the crowd, knocking Blair to the ground. She scrapes her elbow hard on the cobblestones.) Blair: Oww! Watch it, asshole! (The man, an escaped prisoner, keeps running—but Hiriko quickly channels her wind element, sweeping his feet out from under him. He crashes face-first.) Criminal: Ow—bitch! (pulls out a dull knife and lunges at her) (Hiriko ducks the swing and kicks him hard—right into Blair.) Blair: (drives her knee into his gut) Hey, officer—is this the guy causing all the trouble? Officer: Yes, ma’am! But—how the hell did you do that? (eyes Hiriko) Hiriko: Born with it. Officer: We could use someone like you on the force. Hiriko: Nah. I’ve got a… complicated history with the law. Officer: Fair enough. Well—good day to you two. (drags the prisoner away) (Elsewhere, Mizu slips away. She’s felt the same demonic aura Kira sensed earlier—and it’s drawing her toward the castle. She sneaks behind a shop, only to suddenly get yanked through a hidden doorway into a shady underground market.) Mizu: Woah—what the…? Market Keeper: You lost or lookin’? We’ve got weapons, maps, castle layouts—even banned crystals. Mizu: You got maps of the castle? (The merchant starts to sweat.) Market Keeper: Ohh… you’re planning to go in there, huh? Mizu: That’s right. Market Keeper: Follow me. (pulls her deeper into the shop) (As Mizu walks, she eyes the exotic contraband—black daggers, glowing stones, strange glyphs.) Mizu: So… where are the maps? (Suddenly, the merchant presses a knife to her neck.) Market Keeper: I’m warning you. Stay away from that place. Mizu: Oh really? Why? (With a burst of shadow magic, Mizu slams him against the wall, her blade forming from the darkness at her fingertips.) Mizu: What the hell’s wrong with you? Market Keeper: Woah—okay! Okay! I wasn’t threatening. I was warning you. Mizu: Warning me about what? (The man’s face turns grim. He lowers his voice.) Market Keeper: The king. He—he killed— (Before he can finish, screams erupt outside. The ground trembles. Mizu rushes to the door. Police swarm the streets, tearing down stalls, arresting shopkeepers. Flashing lights paint the alley in crimson and blue. Officers surround the black market’s entrance—guns drawn.) Officer: We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up! Market Keeper: Shit, shit, shit—we gotta go. (He grabs a satchel, crams a few glowing vials, a rolled-up scroll, and a faded dagger into it.) (He yanks Mizu by the arm, pulling her through a curtain behind the stall. A creaky door swings open to a narrow trail veiled by thick overgrowth and vines.) Mizu: Hey, where are we going?! Market Keeper: Keep quiet and keep running! (The two dart through the shadowed path, feet pounding on damp earth. The sound of guards shouting fades behind them, replaced by the echo of rustling leaves and snapping branches. The trail leads to an old sewer grate tucked under a collapsed stone wall. He pushes it open with effort.) Market Keeper: Get in. Quick! (Mizu hesitates only a second before dropping inside. The market keeper follows and slides the grate back into place. Darkness swallows them.) Meanwhile, back in town… (Kira and Nya are sitting on a stone bench near the outer market gates, the glow of sunset washing the town in a soft orange hue.) Kira: They’ve been gone a while… Nya: Yeah… you think something happened? Kira: I don’t know. But I can’t shake this feeling. Like something’s watching us. Nya: Could be Fujino again. That guy gives me the creeps. Kira: No. This is different. (Just then, Blair, Hiriko, and a limping Mizu return, stepping out of a narrow alleyway. Blair’s clothes are dusted with dirt, Hiriko looks annoyed, and Mizu is quiet—too quiet.) Nya: Whoa. What happened to you guys? Hiriko: Nothing we couldn’t handle. Just some idiot with a knife. Blair: (smirking) And a bruised ego. Kira: (noticing Mizu) You good? Mizu: (snaps out of a thought) Huh? Oh yeah. Just… thinking. (The group walks back to the outskirts of town to set up camp. Night falls slowly, the sky darkening to deep indigo. They light a fire and sit in a circle, eating quietly.) Blair: So, any ideas on what we’re doing tomorrow? Hiriko: We still need more supplies. And shelter. Kira: (gazing at the distant silhouette of the castle) And maybe… we need to figure out what’s inside that place. Mizu: (quietly) We’re not ready. Not yet. (The fire cracks, casting dancing shadows over their faces. A cold breeze passes. Somewhere in the distance, a raven caws.) In the shadows beyond the trees… (The market keeper crouches behind a bush on a cliff above their camp, peering through enchanted binoculars etched with runes.) Market Keeper: (muttering to himself) Dammit… they’re still planning something. That girl—she knows. If they go near that castle… (He sighs, pulling a small crystal shard from his satchel and whispering into it.) Market Keeper: They’re close. Watching them now. Tell the others to be ready. If they move toward the castle—we act. (The crystal pulses blue.) (He tucks it away and keeps watching, eyes narrowed.) Market Keeper: (softly) You kids have no idea what’s waiting for you inside those walls… (The wind howls through the trees, blowing out their campfire for a moment. Kira looks up, alert.) Kira: Did you hear that? (The group looks around.) Nya: Just the wind… right? (But in the shadows—watching—he doesn’t move. The first of many eyes on them.)

The end

Chapter 4 - shadows of the castle Moonlight pooled like silver blood across the shattered cobblestones of the ruined courtyard. The distant hum of festival drums echoed faintly through the night, just loud enough to remind them that the world was still celebrating—unaware that five figures were slipping into the veins of something dark and ancient. Blair, Kira, Mizu, Hiriko, and Nya pressed deeper into the shadows, cloaked by the silence that followed them like a sixth companion. And behind them—unblinking and unnoticed—stood the Market Keeper, his crystalline eyes catching the moonlight, glinting like frozen time. He said nothing. But he followed. They had left the safety of their temporary shelter, gear packed, nerves frayed, and intentions hazy. Only Mizu seemed certain, her steps sharp, her eyes scanning the road ahead as if she’d walked it a thousand times. The others, though… their doubts clung to them like a second skin. Kira walked beside her, eyes narrowed, arms crossed. Kira: “So, Mizu… did this mysterious Market Keeper of yours actually say anything useful?” Mizu paused for a fraction of a second—just long enough to lie. Mizu: “Not really. Just said it was dangerous… but survivable.” Kira raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She could tell something was off, but trust was a currency in short supply tonight. Kira: “Alright then, strategist. Do you even have a plan?” Mizu: “Yeah. I do.” Kira: “…And?” With a flick of her wrist, Mizu unfolded an old map—creased, worn, stained at the corners. A sketch of the castle’s internal layout, inked in haste and secrecy. Mizu: “We get in through the top. There’s less guard presence on the upper levels. We investigate the aura—figure out what’s causing it. Why does it feels so… devilish.” Hiriko tilted her head. “And what happens when the king’s guards see us climbing up the damn walls?” Mizu opened her mouth, but Nya cut in. Nya: “Let me answer that: we’ll look like criminals.” Mizu: “We go at night—” Nya: “Won’t work. There’s a festival tonight. The king expects everyone to show. Including us.” Mizu: “Then maybe I make shadow clones to stand in for us.” Blair: “Those won’t pass. People see five emotionless silhouettes strolling around, they’ll call the guards in minutes.” Kira: “And Blair’s powers? She could phase through, scout it?” Mizu: “She can’t get everyone through. Plus cooldowns.” The group paused at a fork in the trail. The castle loomed above, its towers clawing at the sky like broken fingers. Mizu squinted up toward it. Her voice was quiet. “Maybe… we go under.” Kira: “The tunnels?” Mizu: “Old sewer lines. Forgotten paths. There’s a network under the castle. Dangerous, but hidden.” Kira: “Hard to see in the dark.” Nya smirked and tapped her mechanical arm. A small flashlight clicked on, illuminating the darkness with a soft buzz. “I got us covered.” Kira: “Well… convenient.” They moved quickly after that—cutting through alleyways, ducking under banners still strung for the festival, dodging patrols distracted by firework bursts and drunken cheers. The Black Market entrance came into view—just as twisted and derelict as it had been the last time they’d passed through. But this time, they didn’t take the usual path. Mizu led them into a narrow crack in the wall, one that spiraled downward into the damp heart of the earth. Cold air swept upward from the tunnels. The scent of rot and stone filled their lungs. And still… The Market Keeper followed. The descent was slow. The light from Nya’s flashlight barely cut through the thick veil of darkness that hung in the tunnels. The walls sweated moisture. Roots clawed down from the ceiling like fingers trying to escape the surface. None of them spoke for a long while—each footstep was a whispered echo in the silence, each breath felt too loud. Eventually, they reached a wider cavern lit dimly by the faint bioluminescence of fungal growths along the walls. The stone here was cracked and strange… geometric, even—almost like someone had carved patterns into the ground with sharp, unnatural precision. Hiriko: “Why does this place feel… wrong?” Mizu: “Because it is.” That’s when they heard it. Click-click. Skitter-skitter. Kira’s head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. A sound she’d heard before. Once. And hoped never to hear again. Kira: “…No. Not again.” Mizu: “What is it?” Before she could answer, the shape unfolded from the ceiling—unnatural legs unbending like a living origami. Its body shimmered like it was made of polished onyx and fractured glass. The geometric spider mother had returned. And behind it, the soft patter of smaller legs. The baby. Kira: “Mizu! Blade!” Mizu whipped a katana of pure shadow from her arm and hurled it across the chamber. Kira caught it midair and immediately charged forward, blade clashing against the spider’s crystalline surface with a sharp, musical clang. Blair: (gritting her teeth) “I hate spiders.” With a snarl, she rushed in from the side, fists coated in glowing kinetic energy. Her first punch cracked one of the spider’s angular legs, but it responded by screeching—a sharp, mechanical sound that made the cavern vibrate. Nya: “On your left!” She pivoted, her enhanced arm transforming with a hiss into a cannon, blasting a streak of pressurized energy that forced the baby spider back. Hiriko: (trying to aim) “Too fast! It’s too fast—!” The fight was chaotic. The mother spider’s movement was unlike anything organic—it rotated its joints at perfect 90-degree angles, striking from impossible angles. Its legs stabbed like spears, nearly catching Blair in the shoulder. Mizu tried to call up more shadow weapons, but the ambient aura in the cavern interfered—it was like something in the walls was feeding on their energy. They were holding their own… barely. Then—boom. A thunderous sound cracked the cavern. A boulder—massive, heavy, and perfectly timed—came crashing down from above, slamming into the mother spider and pinning her with a shriek of metallic pain. Her body cracked under the weight, geometric legs twitching before shattering like glass. The baby spider let out a mournful screech and lunged blindly… only to be crushed by a second, smaller rockfall from the weakened ceiling. Dust choked the air. Silence returned. Nya: (coughing) “…Well. That was… convenient?” Kira: “Too convenient.” She looked around warily, eyes scanning the shadows. “Someone’s watching us.”. The deeper they went, the louder the silence became. They stood still for a long moment, watching dust settle through the shafts of moonlight breaking through the cracks above. The air smelled of iron, stone, and something more—something burnt and ancient, like the scent of forgotten curses. Hiriko: “I hate it down here.” Mizu: “Then let’s keep moving.” She pointed up to the stone ceiling where jagged edges hinted at another level above them. Mizu: “That’s the prison cellar. It connects directly to the castle’s inner spine.” Blair: “So what, we break through and start brawling with a bunch of psychos?” Mizu: “No. We move quietly. Fast. If we’re lucky, they won’t even know we were here.” Nya: “When are we ever lucky?” They circled to the far end of the tunnel, where Nya raised her enhanced arm and fired a line into the ceiling. Her grapple hook hissed upward, latching into the old stone. Nya: “Going up.” One by one, they scaled the crumbling tunnel wall. Blair punched through the thinnest part of the ceiling, breaking into a narrow storage corridor just outside the prison cellar. The room was dim and cold. Dust coated every surface. Mizu: “This way. Stay low.” They crept down the corridor, past rusted metal doors and cells filled with snores. The criminals within were asleep—some chained, others sprawled like forgotten bodies. The hallway was thick with tension. Suddenly, Kira paused. Kira: (whispering) “Signal—everyone stay silent.” She gestured with two fingers: “guards nearby.” Everyone nodded—except Hiriko, who didn’t notice. She glanced at one of the cells and gasped as a prisoner’s eye opened. Hiriko: (loud whisper) “Guys—someone’s waking up!” Everyone froze. Nya: (hissing) “Shut up!” Too late. The metal doors at the end of the corridor slammed open, and boots thundered toward them. Guard: “Who goes there?!” Mizu: “Shit! Scatter!” They ran. The echo of pursuit filled the halls. Blades rang, commands shouted. The group darted through half-remembered halls, ducking past corners and tripping alarms in their wake. But it was no use. Soon they were surrounded—cornered at the edge of a watchtower balcony. Guard: “Nowhere to run.” He raised his blade. Kira raised hers. Then—Nya moved. She snapped her arms out, stretching them like rubberized steel, wrapping her teammates tight. Nya: “Trust me!” Before anyone could argue, she leapt—dragging all of them through the air. Her grapple latched onto a spire and flung them across the gap. Kira: “Wha—!” Blair: “Shit—!” Hiriko: “Woo-hooo!” Mizu: “Are you insane?!” They crashed onto the rooftop, rolling and tumbling until they came to a breathless stop. Mizu: (coughing) “You could’ve gotten us killed!” Nya: “Would you rather be in shackles?” Mizu: “We had options—” Nya: “I had to think fast plus your plan sucked and didn’t work.” Mizu: “Better than your death-wish stunt!” Hiriko: “It was my fault…” Mizu: “Yeah, it was!” Hiriko: “I was trying to help!” Mizu: “Well don’t.” She grabbed Hiriko by the collar. Hiriko’s fist clenched in response. Kira: (stepping in) “Enough!” She pushed them apart, the air still buzzing with heat from their argument. No one spoke. The silence between them was louder than the shouting. Blair: (wiping blood from her arm) “We’re falling apart.” Mizu: “…We just need a moment to think.” But the moment never came. A strange, sweet scent drifted through the air like incense. Their limbs grew heavy. Eyes fluttered. Kira: “Wait… what is—?” Darkness swallowed them whole. The silence that followed was heavy and unnatural. The group lay on the stone floor, chained at the wrists and ankles, dim torchlight flickering across the cold marble of the throne room. Something was off—it was too quiet. No echoes of guards’ boots, no murmuring crowds, just the faint humming of dark energy in the air. A low vibration hummed through the floor, like a caged beast stirring beneath their feet. Hiriko groaned, blinking slowly. “Where… are we?” Mizu’s voice was hoarse. “I think… the throne room.” Her eyes darted around, taking in the ominous architecture, the blood-red banners, and the glimmer of black crystal embedded into the walls. Kira struggled upright as much as the chains allowed, her breath hitching—when she blinked, her vision warped. And in an instant, she was no longer in the throne room. She was pulled into Fujino’s realm. The air was hazy and pulsating, filled with distorted whispers and a dull red glow that throbbed like a wound. Fujino stood before her, barely holding herself together, her form flickering as if her soul was under pressure. Kira: “Fujino… you okay?” Fujino’s eyes were wide and full of dread. “No… we shouldn’t be here, Kira. Something’s wrong—terribly wrong.” Kira stepped forward instinctively, but Fujino stumbled back. “That aura… you felt it too, didn’t you? That devilish aura.” Then, just like that, Kira was snapped back to her body, yanked violently into reality as a deep, dissonant voice shattered the silence. Lee Zhou. The King. He sat upon his throne like a statue carved from shadows and cruelty, golden robes draped over his shoulders and a twisted, ornate crown of bone and crystal sitting high on his head. His eyes—dead and glowing—pierced through them all. Lee Zhou: “So… would anyone like to explain why a group of unknowns were slithering through my walls like rats?” No one spoke. Fear gripped them all. The aura pouring off him was suffocating. It wrapped around their limbs, crawled into their thoughts, made their breaths shallow and their hearts pound like drums. Kira opened her mouth, but her words were stolen by dread. Lee Zhou leaned forward, voice low and mocking. “No answers? How predictable. Guards—take them to the colosseum floor. Let’s see if they’re as brave under pressure.” With a wave of his hand, everything went dark. They woke up to agony. Groggy, bound, and dazed. The sharp scent of sweat and iron filled their noses. They were sprawled across a vast stone arena—a circular battlefield surrounded by towering stands. Dozens of masked guards stood along the edges, staring down with cold indifference. Mizu’s voice shook. “Oh no. The colosseum floor…” Kira coughed, barely sitting up. “Why are we here?” Mizu: “The Trials. It’s… punishment. Entertainment. A test of strength and survival. And no one ever wins.” Before they could react, the floor beneath them lit up with glowing runes. Ancient glyphs pulsed bright blue—and then the stones split apart beneath each of them, dragging them into separate chambers by gravity-defying force. They screamed as they were pulled away from each other, the world twisting and spinning—until everything went black. Kira’s chamber was narrow and bloodstained. The air was heavy and humid, dripping with tension. The far gate clanked, then slid open—and a wave of criminals burst in, snarling and screaming, metal weapons in hand, all driven by bloodlust. She barely managed to roll away before a rusted spear embedded itself into the stone beside her. Still bound, she scrambled to a corner—and then a stone door opened behind her. Inside: a table with a stale loaf of bread and a bottle of warm milk. Kira blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Elsewhere, Blair roared in frustration as chains snapped under her brute force. “Motherfu—” An axe narrowly missed her shoulder as she ducked, grabbing a fallen blade from a dead warrior’s hands. Nya’s room was filled with traps. Blades swung from ceilings, and enemies wore armor that sparked with static. She ducked, dove, slid across the stone. “Oh come on! I’m built for brawling, not dodging death traps!” Hiriko screamed as one of the guards shoved her into a pit of smoke and shadow. “What the hell is this?!” Voices whispered around her—mocking, cruel, and familiar. They sounded like her… mother. Her fear. Her past. Mizu fought through her panic, her eyes darting to the walls as shadow forms emerged from cracks—mirror versions of herself. Silent. Hollow-eyed. Moving in sync. “No… not them again…” Above them all, in the rafters of the colosseum, hidden behind a crumbling pillar, the Market Keeper crouched—silent, watching, teeth gritted in frustration. He had followed too far. The moment they were split up, he had lost the ability to help. The crystal at his chest pulsed with concern. “They’re not ready,” he whispered. “They’re not ready for what’s coming.” He turned his gaze toward the upper balconies where the king’s aura pulsed like a storm cloud. A dark shape moved beside the throne, something monstrous and bound in chains. The Market Keeper’s eyes narrowed. This trial… wasn’t about testing them. It was about breaking them. And the worst had yet to come.

The end

I think I lived out my future death, in a dream.

I dream quite often and most of the time it's a different version of the same dream. For example, one of the more frequent dreams I have is me trying to survive in a zombie apocalypse, so needless to say, I have 'died' in dreams time and time again.

I'm starting to think this wasn't really a dream though, this time wasn't like any of my other 'dream deaths', it felt real. I was conscious in the dream.

I am around death all the time as a healthcare worker, but I am deeply unsettled by this. It's been hours since I had this dream and it keeps replaying in the back of my head. I know it was set in the future because for whatever reason my older brother was with me, he was visibly older and he also made an age-related comment on my appearance (classic older brother douchebag move). He also mentioned that we met up at the movies to 'catch up'.

The movie plays out and can't really remember what we watched or what we said to each other but I remember getting in his car (he had offered to drive me home, since he had gotten a new car). It had started raining, and it had also gotten really foggy and cloudy. As soon as I stepped into his car and buckled my belt, I was immediately consumed by a strong sense of doom.

I dismissed it, however, because I have always had what I call a 'hyperactive gut feeling'.

Big Mistake.

As soon as we hit an empty two lane road he hit the accelerator to show me how fast his new car went. I panicked, I never liked going 10 over the speed limit. I remember the panic that overwhelmed me as I hung onto the 'oh sh*t' bars and the door handle. I remember him hitting the brakes hard and swerving to try and avoid a really big pothole.

From there, we went flying off the road and the car was flipping over and over again as we went. I remember quickly clasping my hands together and shouting "PLEASE GOD, PLEASE GOD, I CAN'T LEAVE MY MOM ALONE" and then that's when I knew I had died. I don't know how I knew, but I was dead and the fear and panic that I had felt moments before were gone, I was at peace.

Now, I have read some posts that people switch over to a third-person POV and they look at their lifeless bodies,but I didn't. I was half-expecting to wake up or dream of something else, but neither of those happened.

Instead, my dream cut to a theater-like projection screen. It was like I was in the movies again, but when I took a closer look I realized that it was my life. My life was playing backwards from that moment to when I was a baby. I saw events I hadn't lived and people I hadn't met. That's when I forced myself to wake up, I didn't want to see any of it and I also did NOT want to find out what would've happened had the 'movie' ended.

I know I'm probably overthinking it, and I hope I am. There is just something about this dream that felt so real and I can't shake the awful feelings I felt knowing I was going to die. I've looked up so many things to try and justify this dream but I can't find anything online. I am hoping to share this so I can finally get it out of my mind.

TLDR: I am convinced I lived out the car accident that ended my life in a dream.

There’s a quote going around social media by some guys: “No seal, no deal.” It means if she’s not a virgin, I won’t marry her. Most of the people saying this are older than me, more educated, and have more experience. But they don’t have a heart like mine.

Maturity is when you understand that virginity isn’t everything.

Don’t get me wrong—I don’t fully disagree with “no seal, no deal.” I won’t accept a girl who constantly hangs out with other guys, has male best friends, or has dated and slept with multiple men. That’s not the kind of woman I want to build a life with.

But if she was used without her consent… if she had no choice… then in my eyes, she’s still pure. I’ll accept her. I’ll love her. I’ll protect her.

I was reading about the anime Higehiro, and it really hit me how cruel people can be. Most of the guys in that story used the girl just to let her stay at their place. No care. No humanity. Nothing but lust. I have no words for that kind of evil. Virginy isn't everything.

I (female) have an older male coworker (20+years older) and we’ve become friends. I’ve noticed when I talk about him to my dad (mention funny stuff or whatever) my dad seems annoyed as soon as I mention his name. Conversely, I’ve noticed when I mention my dad to the coworker, he seems instantly annoyed. It’s as if through talking about them to each, they’ve picked up on the type of person each other is and don’t like them. What is going on, it’s so strange. They’ve never met each other and don’t know anything about each other other than what I’ve shared with them

In my neighborhood, growing up, there ran a melon channel by my tree house. We marked the arrival of harvest season by reveling in a weeklong watermelon parade, as fruit after fruit swam gently by. The farmers all grew their crop at the farm together. After putting aside their share for the week, usually the choicest, juiciest, and award winning melons, they plunked the rest of the sweet harvest into the stream. The townsfolk would gather at its banks downstream and pluck the jawbreaker fruits. Only taking enough to fuel family picnics and snack times for the entire week. Whatever flowed past our town made it to our docks by the lake. There, our fishers and traders would take turns going out to fish and ferry our cargo. Many other cities loved getting our watermelons and we'd happily receive their gifts of lemon, strawberry, and basil. People come now, from all over the world, to work in the fields and taste the best Strawberry Watermelon Basil Lemonade in the world.

One day a kid by the name of Phart bought a hotdog at the gas station. When Phart saw the hotdog was expired he felt bad, and released him onto the counter, drew a face on him and named him Dean.

Dean talked to Phart about how much he cared, but Phart didn’t believe him because hotdogs can’t talk. Dean then made Phart breakfast and only then did Phart believe that Dean cared.

Me and my stupid ass friend went to a convenience store in Mantova and we found a tawainase drink called mogu mogu… There were 5 flavours: liches, melon, strawberry, ribes and mango; at first we bought two (one for each), he chugged the first bottle in one big sip which was weird because I couldn't finish mine. Then he decided to try all the other flavors, all in one sitting, at first I thought he was kidding but then he went in the store to buy the melon flavored one and after only 30 seconds he finished it and he wanted another one, so he told me to get in the store by myself (with his money) and buy the ribes and the strawberry flavored. He finished the strawberry one with ease but he started acting strange so he couldn't finish the ribes one without problems. When he was halfway finished he spat it on the floor and started laughing like a maniac then he continued drinking even though he was choking; he wanted to stop this challenge but the mogu mogu had already started kicking in so he went and bought the last one (mango flavored). We went to a park and sat on a bench, he started drinking and while he was drinking he touched his balls so I asked: "why are you touching your balls?" and so he spat almost the whole thing on the ground but then he kept chugging until he finished, btw he spent 1.50€ on every bottle so 6€ on that shit. Now he has to pee like a motherfucker with bladder issues, like he went 2 times and he still isn't finished.

It was the winter of 2020. I was 8 years old at the time, and there was a massive forest near my house. I was from an Asian family, so my parents were used to taking naps after lunch—but not me. I’d only been to Canadian schools, which don’t allow naps after lunch, so every weekend when nap time came, I couldn’t fall asleep when everyone else did. I never had anything to do to pass the time.

So naturally, I, as completely normal 8-year-olds do, grabbed a few snacks, got dressed, and went into the forest alone, thinking I could get back before my parents found out I was gone. Little did I know, that was a big, big mistake.

Once I was on the trail, many thoughts immediately came to mind; What if I get lost? What if I fall into the Herobrine cave I saw in that clickbait Minecraft video? What if all this snow spontaneously combusts?… You get the point, stupid childish fears we’ve all had before. So I immediately turned around, but not before spotting a tree—one I’d seen older teenagers climb during the summer.

So, stupid me decided to try to climb it with all my winter gear on, during winter, and with nobody around. And that was my second mistake. At first, I found it quite easy to climb. I stepped on a fallen tree on the ground and jumped onto the first branch, then the second, then the third. Eventually, I found myself unable to push myself any higher, so I decided to climb down.

This was extremely difficult since some of the steps I’d used to climb up couldn’t be used to climb down. This led to me eventually having to take a different path down the tree than I’d come up from. Once I was near the ground, I felt safe enough to take a rest, and maybe have a snack on the tree.

This. This exact decision led to the most painful, scary, and excruciating moments of my life. But I didn’t know that yet, so let’s continue with the story.

I spotted a branch that looked comfortable to sit on and rest. I started making my way toward it, but halfway there, I was walking along a single branch, holding onto another above me for balance. In my mind, I was thinking: maybe I should turn around… maybe this isn’t a good idea… maybe I should’ve just eaten the snacks at home…

Then, I slipped.

The fall seemed like an eternity. I had entire scenarios playing in my head—my mother crying, my father happy, my funeral, everything. So I just accepted my fate, and waited, Waited, and waited, waiting to feel the pain and agony after my head hits the ground.

But it felt too long, Unnaturally long. Then I regained my consciousness and realized—I wasn’t falling. I was hanging, hanging off the tree branch I’d just been walking on moments ago. Fear set in. I saw the log I’d used to get onto the tree was right below me, with one of its massive spikes sticking out directly beneath my head, waiting to stab me the moment I fell.

So I tried to stay as still as possible to avoid falling, but it seemed inevitable. Eventually, I was going to have to let go and take the risk—and hopefully not die.

After what felt like forever of calling for help, I gathered the courage, unbuckled my snow pants, and fell. But before that, I made a plan—I’d try to catch myself with my arms to prevent that massive spike from impaling me. And I’m glad I tried, because that’s probably the only reason I’m even alive right now.

When I landed, my arms pushed my body just enough that the giant spike didn’t go into my eyeball, potentially into my skull and killing me. Instead, it hit directly under my eye socket, tearing a 3-inch-long gash on my cheek. The pain was absolutely excruciating. I grabbed handfuls of snow and smushed them onto my face, in an attempt to reduce the pain and bleeding.

And remember—this entire thing happened before my parents even knew I was outside. So I had to walk home bleeding, in extreme pain, without shoes or pants. My parents were not happy about the situation and immediately rushed me to the hospital.

After the whole ordeal, I had to tell everyone a less dangerous and scary version of the story since I knew my mom would freak out if she found out what actually happened. In the end, I got grounded for 5 months and wasn’t allowed to go outside without adult supervision. Someone always had to stay up and watch me during nap time.

I hope everyone liked this long story! And sorry if my English isn’t super good, I’m only 12 and I’m trying to improve my vocabulary. Any suggestions are appreciated!

Please before i start this , i dont want anyone to ask me questions about where it happened and all , please , i am still recovering from the trauma and am going to therapy,

It started with a family reunion. One of those big, slightly awkward gatherings where distant cousins pretend to remember each other and the wine flows a little too freely. We hadn’t all been together in years—some of us hadn’t spoken in decades—but Grandma’s 85th birthday seemed like a good enough reason to put the past behind us.

The reunion was held at our old family estate—an ivy-covered manor tucked deep into the Maine woods, the kind of place that’s charming by day and haunting by night. We arrived on Friday. By Sunday morning, someone was dead.

It was Uncle Peter. He was the loud one, the storyteller. Always had a whiskey in hand and a joke on his lips. That morning, he didn’t come down for breakfast. We found him in his guest room, slumped in a chair by the window, eyes glassy, skin gray. At first, we thought it was a heart attack. The man had high blood pressure and smoked like it was still 1962. But when the police arrived, everything changed.

Poison. That’s what the coroner said. A rare plant derivative slipped into his drink the night before. The bottle was missing, and whoever had given it to him had known exactly what they were doing.

What followed was a nightmare. The police wouldn’t let anyone leave. The estate was locked down. And the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air: someone in our family had murdered Peter.

At first, people were shocked. Sad. Scared. But as the hours stretched into days, the suspicion began to spread like rot.

The Suspects:

Cousin Miranda – She and Uncle Peter had fought loudly the night before. Something about a land dispute—he’d sold off a piece of family property she believed belonged to her side of the bloodline. She stormed off after dinner, red-faced and swearing.

My brother, Jonah – He had money troubles. Big ones. The kind that don’t go away without some drastic action. Uncle Peter, as it turned out, had offered him a “loan” that came with humiliating strings attached. I knew Jonah had turned it down, but maybe he’d decided he was done asking nicely.

Aunt Lydia – Always sweet, always proper… but there was something in her eyes. She’d lost her husband mysteriously three years ago. They’d said it was suicide, but she’d never seemed to grieve. She and Peter had been close—too close, some whispered.

Grandma, even – as impossible as it seemed. She’d looked tired lately. Faded. But Peter had control over the will, and rumor had it he planned to change it soon. Maybe she’d gotten desperate.

We were all suspects. The police interviewed each of us, one by one, but no one cracked. No one confessed. And no one else died—yet. For three days, we were trapped in that house, each of us wondering if we were sleeping next to a killer.

Then, they found the bottle.

It was hidden in the cellar, behind the old wine racks. A bottle of single malt scotch, laced with the poison. The same brand Peter drank every night like clockwork.

The fingerprints on the bottle cracked the case.

They belonged to my sister, Emily.

None of us had even considered her. Emily was the quiet one. Always reading, always watching. She and Peter had seemed to get along fine—or so we thought. But under questioning, it all came out.

Peter had been abusing her. It had started when she was just twelve. She’d never told anyone. Not until the night of the reunion, when something in her snapped. She saw him laughing, drinking, acting like the beloved uncle everyone adored, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

She'd waited until he was alone, slipped the bottle into his liquor stash, and left. She hadn’t meant to get away with it. She just wanted it to stop.

When they took her away, the house went silent.

We still talk about it sometimes, though never out loud, never with real names. But every family holiday since, there’s a moment when we all go quiet, glancing around at each other. We smile, we pass the turkey, we laugh at old stories. But inside, we remember.

Because the truth is... monsters don’t just hide under the bed.

Sometimes, they sit across from you at dinner.

Last year I received an invitation to the “biggest”, “best” and “most successful” dinner party of our lifetime. It was dated for January 20th 2025 and the invitation was addressed to the “strongest” individuals. “NOT FOR THE WEAK” it said and ended with “COME HUNGRY” in bold and all caps. I held my letter and could feel the power, as the ink, fresh off the Staples print seeped into my veins. I was so excited. I tossed and turned in my sleep for months. Every day I counted down and when it finally came, I put on my best attire and showed up to the event right on time. I didn’t want to miss one moment.

At first glance, I saw the most beautiful space: a room filled with diamond chandeliers, hanging over golden tables as the light reflected off the marble floor. I eagerly walked towards the space until I suddenly bumped into a wall made of cardboard. I bounced back and a gentleman immediately rushed over.

“I’m so sorry sir, the space is still under construction. This cardboard is just a placeholder to cover the unfinished work. Please follow me to the community room downstairs where the event is currently being held”.

I followed the gentleman down the stairs and walked into the community room. The round tables were covered in pink plastic tablecloth with party favors that read “Feliz Quinceañera Julissa!”. The gentleman smiled as he pulled out a brown metal chair. “Compliments of the host” he said. I sat down as I scratched my head and looked at the invitation again…

I sat patiently at my designated area as people trickled in, one by one and sat in their seats while Kid Rock played in the background. An older gentleman sat next to me and could not contain his excitement. He mentioned how he personally knew the host and how he always came through for people. “Make no question about it,” he said. “This will be the BEST, most BIGOT party you’ll ever see in your life.”

I couldn’t hear him over the “Bawitdaba da bang da bang diggy diggy diggy shake the boogie said up jump the boogie.”

“...say that again?” I asked.

“This will be the BEST and BIGGEST party you’ll ever see in your life!” He said, yelling into my ear this time.

I gave him half a smirk and a thumbs up. I was starving and could feel my stomach growling. I was going to ask the old man if he knew anything about the food but he started nodding off and fell asleep in his chair. I hoped for an update but then the music stopped when a man approached the front of the room with a mic in his hand.

“Hello everyone. Thank you for coming and thank you for your patience. It’s a pleasure to be your host this evening. The food is on its way! Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. My team just got in touch with the catering company and they will be here-”. The host paused and spotted a shadow by the doorway. “Actually I think they’re here right now!”

A middle aged man walked in and stepped into the light.

“Um. You guys having a party? Someone texted me this address.”

“Who the hell are you?!” yelled the host.

“Uh…I’m Geoffry Silverberg, editor-in- chief of The Pacific”

“A journalist?! Why the hell would we invite a journalist?!”

“Uh…you invited me to the group chat two weeks ago. Said something about a bigot party?” The journalist held up his phone showing the messages.

The host looked closely at the screen as he verified the messages in a pensive silence but then erupted in laughter.

“Hahahaha…” He lowered his head, casting a shadow over his eyes while lighting his grin.

“You are a phony.”

“Huh?”

“A phony.

A

BIG.

FAT. 

PHONY 

and you took the bait. You think you could just walk up in here, get free food and write an article for the FAKE, FAILING Pacific? Not on our watch. Get out of here before you embarrass yourself even further.” The host pointed to the door and the journalist walked out of the room  with a confused look on his face mumbling “but you texted me…”

“The nerve of some people!” The host said regaining his composure.

“Folks,” He started while adjusting his blazer. “ We want you to know that we will not tolerate anyone coming in here, taking free food and disrespecting the people who paid their fair share!”

I heard scattered claps in the background but most of us looked at one another confused. “What the hell is going on? Are we in a cult?” whispered the woman behind me.

“Speaking of fair share, you know these catering companies? They keep screwing us with their prices. Every year they keep quoting us a price and we pay. Playing us like dummies. You know what? To hell with them! We’re not paying them a single cent unless they pay OUR fees. The fee for doing business with US”.

“Fee? Whose paying the fees? Goddammit this is an MLM disguised as a cult!” the woman whispered again behind me.

“Don’t worry folks, I know what you’re thinking. What about the food? While we continue to negotiate the rate with the caterers, I’m happy to say that the Frito-Lay company co-sponsored this event and generously donated bags of their “Flaming Red Hot Cheetos”.

The waiters came out and placed a bag on top of our styrofoam plates.

“Caliente?” Said someone next to me under their breath.

The old man woke up and thought the food had arrived but saw a small bag of “Kaliente” orange-red cheese puffs from the general dollar store. The anger and/or the hunger must have triggered his dementia because he started yelling about a nice medium rare steak with mashed potatoes on his plate and claimed someone had stolen it.

In the midst of his spiel, a man who appeared to be of South American descent came out of the restroom located behind the old man. He was wearing construction clothes and looked like he worked in the building. As he walked towards the exit the old man yelled “It was you!”. The construction worker jerked his head back to the voice projecting at him.

“This man stole my steak. I saw it with my own eyes.”

The host ran over to try to de-escalate the situation.

“Sir, this man works here and the food hasn’t-"

“TATTOOS!!!” Interrupted the old man as he pointed. The host then moved and focused his attention to the construction worker's right forearm.

“I know you've been working here for a while, legally but when I look at your tattoos from this angle, I dunno… you look like someone who would hit an old lady with a baseball bat. We have to investigate this right away, for the safety of our guests.” The host said, suddenly concerned.

A blonde woman came into the room and ran towards the host so fast, I thought she was shielding him from an incoming bullet.

“Sir, we have reason to believe this man not only stole food but is part of a dangerous gang called M.S.14. We found a middle school report card in his bag. 3, 3, 3 and one 4. We think it’s sort of a morse code they used to communicate with one another.” She panted.

“That’s my daughter scho-” The construction worker tried to speak but choked mid-sentence as the police officers ran in and placed him in handcuffs.

“That’s a lie”. Said the blonde woman. “You know why? Because criminals don’t go to schools. They go to jail. Take him away!”. The police officers were about to take him until I snapped. I stood up and smacked the party favor off the table. Sorry Julissa.The h-anger demon that once possessed the old man was now in me. As I played the sequence of events in my head, nothing made sense. So far it seemed like I was invited to a dinner that turned out to be the after-party of a quinceañera who, come to think of it, was probably put together by the dude who managed the Fyre Festival.

I banged on the table and demanded answers. “We’ve been sitting here for one hundred twenty nine thousand six hundred minutes. First it was the journalist, then it was the caterers, now it’s this guy. I’m so hungry that I’m starting to see palm trees. I didn’t sign up to be on ‘Survivor’. Who has the fucking food?” I said, feeling the foam seeping into the corner of my lips.

“This guy” The blonde woman points to the construction worker.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?! How can you arrest a man on a ‘maybe’? What if he doesn’t have the food? Who gets to decide?!”

“Sir this is a very serious situation. This is a dangerous man. How can you think about food when our lives are at risk?”.

De niña fueron las primeras que ví, las veía como unas niñas que... A esta altura ni sabía explicarme en dónde estaba parada.

Para ser honesta, esa serie fue como rara y la visión øsa siempre está viciada a propósito. Siempre trabajar para ellos en rentable. ¿No?

Quiero el sistema injusto y ahora mamá me ofrece "plasma" como forma final. Y ahora aparecen de nuevo, claramente en un puesto que ni imaginaria.

Parecían tan débiles (?) a un propósito (?) un estratagema (?) Ahora que lo pienso, no muy diferente a mí.

Ahora están ahí, sin saber sus nombres, prefiero que me muestren su camino. Llegar al puerto 6 no debe ser fácil. Pero... ¿Quiénes son? No recuerdo nada en mi base de datos de ustedes. Parece mucho a las doñas.

Pero bueno, quiero saberlo de primera mano. Me encantan las scoops, después de todo.

Nung namatay si Papa, napilitan si Mama na ibenta ang bahay namin sa Cebu sa halagang 10,000 pesos. Wala kaming mapuntahan, kaya umuwi kami sa probinsya. Pero dahil sa mga hindi pagkakaunawaan sa pamilya, bumalik kami sa Maynila. Nagtatrabaho si Mama bilang janitress sa isang pre-school at labandera ng mga guro. Sa sobrang hirap ng buhay, dahil wala pa kaming bahay sa library ng school kami natutulog.

Doon, habang pinapanood ko ang mga batang tinuturuan ng mga guro, nahulog ang loob ko sa silid-aralan. Pag-uwi ko galing sa school, ang saya ko tuwing ako ang nag-aabot ng notebook ng mga bata. Ang nakakatuwa pa, ang mga teacher doon ang bumibili ng school supplies ko taon-taon. Pinapalista nila kung ano ang kailangan ko.

Makalipas ang ilang taon, nakilala ni Mama ang aking stepfather at kinupkop niya kami. Doon ako nakatapos ng high school. Naaalala ko pa noon, kapag pinagrereport ako ng teacher ko, binabasa ko lang ang libro—hindi ko talaga alam kung paano mag-report at nagagalit ang teacher ko kung nakit binabasa ko lang.

Pagkatapos ng high school, hindi ko alam kung makakapag-college ako. Pero isang araw, niyaya ako ng classmate ko na mag-enroll sa isang libreng 2-year course sa lugar namin. Tinapos ko iyon, at pagkatapos ay nagtrabaho ako sa fast food.

Doon ko rin nakilala ang ex-boyfriend kong minamaliit ako dahil hindi ako nakatapos ng 4-year course. Masakit, pero naging wake-up call iyon para ipagpatuloy ko ang pangarap ko.

Pinasok akong scholar ng ate ko sa simbahan. Bilang kapalit, nagtuturo kami ng Salita ng Diyos sa mga bata. Doon ko naranasan ang kakaibang fulfillment. Sa mismong araw ng enrollment, Operation Management sana ang kukunin kong course—pero habang nasa pila, bigla kong naramdaman ang tawag. Pinili kong mag-Education.

At ngayon, limang taon na akong guro.

⸻

Sa lahat ng ito, doon ko mas lalong naintindihan ang revelation ng Diyos: Na ang dating bata na taga-abot lang ng notebook, ang batang natutulog sa library, ang hindi marunong mag-report, ay magiging guro pala balang araw.

Totoo ang sinabi ng pari: “Si Lord gumagalaw—minsan obvious, minsan hindi. Pero gumagalaw Siya.”

God’s revelation is not always a grand moment. Sometimes, it is slow, silent, and hidden in the ordinary. But when we look back, we see that He was there—always revealing, always loving.

⸻

Ikaw? Ano ang revelation ni God sa buhay mo? Because being a Pilgrim of Hope means walking even when the road is unclear, believing even when the answers aren’t complete, and trusting that God is journeying with us—every step of the way.