Mother and son tattoos

My mother thinks it’s a miracle.
Yesterday my childhood dog showed up at my house after having disappeared thirty years ago, and I’ve been trying to figure out what is happening and what it means.
To say I’m unsettled would be an understatement.
I’m not on the best terms with my mother. We never had the best relationship, but she’s been pushing boundaries really terribly ever since my son was born. She’ll show up out of the blue demanding to spend time with him, demanding “grandmother privileges” without giving us any heads up or letting us prepare ourselves for company, she’ll take things from the house without asking, she tried to bully us into letting her move in, that sort of thing. It doesn’t bug me terribly, maybe because I’m used to it, but my wife has been on the verge of blowing up and banning her from our house for months.
So when I called her up to tell her about this dog that I could swear was Shadow, I should have braced for the worst.
She practically broke down the door rushing over to our house in a matter of minutes.
I couldn’t think of any distinguishing characteristics other than his dichromatic eyes and the fact that I’d never seen a dog that looked quite like him, but my mother remembered that Shadow had a missing toe on his left front paw, and we were always curious as to what had happened.
Sure enough, this returned Shadow was missing the same toe.
On that note, my mother has never been the least bit religious, but I think Shadow turning up after all these years is triggering some sort of conversion.
"It must be a sign. God wants us to have another shot with him," she said.
"You're religious now?" I asked.
"This is proof of something, isn't it? Your childhood dog, your best friend has returned after thirty years to protect your son. That's incredible!"
For once, she and my wife finally agree on something: we’re keeping “Shadow.” I’m leery as all hell about it, and what scares me more than anything i just how comfortable he’s making everyone else around him. Last night my wife and mother were watching television and eating popcorn with Shadow curled up at their feet. I swear, I haven’t seen them more at peace together than in that moment, and even I have to admit it makes me feel bad that I’m trying to deprive them of that, but there is something unnatural about this whole ordeal. Something bad.
It's like nobody is listening to reason.
Those hairs on the back of your neck that stand up from some signal deep in the mammalian brain, that tell you something is very wrong — get out of this situation now — alarm bells are going off, it feels like I'm the only one who has them in this family.
Apparently he showed up at our door while I was at work yesterday and my wife brought him in to get him a snack and some water. She's a dog person, so seeing the majestic animal panting at our doorstep she naturally trusted him and let him in.
"You brought in a wild animal with our infant son in the house?" I asked, honestly flabbergasted.
"He's not some wild wolf or something. He's a dog and very obviously a good one at that. I could just tell."
I remembered back to childhood, that gruff voice that came from Shadow detailing each gory moment of the scene that would happen if he chose to rip out my sister's throat, the flesh torn open, the blood drenching the cartoon pillowcase, the splatter on her curtains as he shook her windpipe like a dead rat. I looked at him, and the way he looked at me was as if he knew.
"Every moment he's in this house I'm going to be afraid of what he'll do." I told her.
"He's a good dog. Your mom says you were inseparable from him when you were a kid. What's changed?"
"Why is nobody listening to me? He was possessive of me but I was always terrified of him. I don't want him in our house." I said.
"You're being so irrational about this," she said.
Irrational? I'm sorry, I'm not convinced a dog can be thirty-seven years old.
My brain's not some cabinet of horrors. I get that I have the reputation in my family as still being some sort of imaginative child even though all that stopped thirty years ago, but it feels to me that these red flags I'm seeing everywhere are pretty obvious.
Honestly the worst thing is that after never being civil to each other for six and a half years my wife and mother are abruptly best friends. My wife even invited my mother to come stay with us for a while.
My wife and I were in the kitchen after dinner when she brought the idea up. I had been drying a plate and it slip out of my hands and broke on the floor.
"An extra pair of hands around the house won't hurt."
"An extra pair of hands and a drooling maw," I said. The dog looked up at me and I felt like it grabbed my voice.
I cleaned up the broken plate, downcast. The moment she brought it up I knew I'd already lost that argument. I've been burning through overtime at work to pay for childcare, but that's left so much extra housework for my wife that it's really not fair to her for me to argue on this. We need the help.
So in addition to worrying about this demon dog or whatever Shadow is, I'm having to move everything out of my office to make my mother a guest room, and the emotional dynamic of my marriage has completely shifted overnight.
Most of the things in my office I don't really use. I carried the files downstairs and had started the laborious project of trying to disassemble my wire shelves when I heard my son babbling in the other room. He was never this talkative.
I came into my son's room as the sun was dipping below the window and bathing the room in golden light. Shadow was there, but this time he was standing on his hind legs, almost as if he was human. His hair puffed up and he looked powerful, regal, wise. He stood there gazing at my son.
“No,” I said, “go back to where you came from. I don’t want you here.”
When he turned to look at me his eyes burned into mine with an intense stare, the reached into me and grabbed hold of something they found inside me. I couldn't move. An unbelievable feeling of calm washed over me and I left the room as though my body was on marionette strings.
As soon as I closed the door my paternal instincts took back over and I was immediately terrified that something was happening to my son. I yanked the door back open dreading the worst — what if the beast had carried him off, had taken him to some dark hole we would never find to eat his tender body — what if he'd come back again from some rotten hell to take everything from me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. But when the door flew open Shadow was sitting there as a regular dog, wagging his tail while my son said nonsense syllables to him.
But that wasn’t real. Something was off. It was like the scene was only in my imagination. My eyes, they weren’t even open, how could what I was seeing be real if my eyes weren’t even open?
I focused with everything I had. My body felt like it was moving through wet concrete — if I didn’t shuck it off right now it would solidify and I wouldn’t be able to regain control again.
I focused, even as something pushed back. I pushed with all my will to open my eyes and see what was actually happening in front of me.
I dredged up every ounce of courage I had against that beast, every ounce of resentment for the things he did to me in childhood. I remembered how he made me, an innocent little boy, push my sister down the stairs — how I’d never recovered my relationship with her.
No, I thought. I am an adult now, not some little boy who is constantly afraid.
I will see. I will, I told myself.
My eyes snapped open. I saw Shadow standing upright, bipedal, his back long, and straight, and strong, and he was holding my son, the back of his onesie caught on that animal’s teether. He looked at me with golden eyes, stared into me, but I refused to budge — I refused to let him back into me even an inch.
I realized he was frozen too. For some reason he couldn’t move while he was trying to exert his will over me. My son wriggled and I knew he was destined to fall any moment.
I pushed through the room, every step heavy and exhausting. I grabbed my son out of “Shadow’s” mouth and wrenched him free, and I backed out of the room.
As soon as I was free of the room I regained full control of my body and dashed down the stairs holding my infant son. I was going to get us out of this, no matter what my wife and mother thought.
I heard my wife’s voice call out to me from the kitchen as I was nearly out the door. “You cannot leave with him. He is not your son anymore. Shadow will be a better father to him than you could ever be. Shadow can keep him safe.”
It was my wife’s voice, but those weren’t her words. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what, but even if she was deranged enough to claim Shadow was my son’s father, she wouldn’t have used those words.
“He’s done something to you. You have to resist. You have to break free.”
My mother came out of the kitchen carrying a pair of scissors as if they were knives, smiling.
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you to him, but I have to make sure our son is safe. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
I slammed the door and leapt in the car. In my bedroom window I saw Shadow watching me. I didn’t even want to know what his next move would be.
I drove until I was tired of driving and pulled into a parking lot to think and type this up. My son is sleeping in the car seat. For the moment, we’re safe, but where we can go from here, I have no idea.
[Part 1] https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/140pc2my_childhood_dog_just_showed_up_at_my_house_afte?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Hi folks, I'm Austin, I'm 30 years old and from SE Ohio. I'm a 6ft tall, dark blonde hair blue eyed easy to get along with guy. I have a stable life, debt free, home owner, great job at a NP helping the disabled. Personality wise I'm calm relaxed and determined, but I've been told I have a childlike innocence sometimes. Hobbies/interests include DIY, gardening, cooking, spending time with family and learning new skills. I'm looking for serious relationship and I'm very mrriage minded and a family of our own. I'm Christian and rather traditional the guy pays for the dates, saves sex for mrriage type and I don't smoke, drink do drugs or have tattoos and would not fair well with someone that is not the same. If you're interested shoot me a message with a little about yourself and we can go from there. Talk to you soon!!! 😁
P.S. Not open to international LDR.

So I need advice I dunno if it’ll even be reached but to ask for this advice y’all gotta know who I am and some details,possible trigger extremely toxic parents and living experience and SA . So I’m Faye for internet reasons and my birth mother is S, dad is D and mom is M. When I was little S and D went through a nasty divorce that resulted in broke bones homes and lives after a grueling two year period little me ends up living with D during this time up until my 15th birthday my father was a loving but hard parent the son of a military vet very big on corporal punishment but not a bad man well the first instances I have of my mother are Thursday visits that consisted of a park visit and her telling me how awful my father was and how he was keeping me from her so from the time I was 10 years old till 11 I heard once a week that my father was trash this was step one of her many year plan . Once I turned 12 and many more court dates later S gained weekend visits and holidays rotating those with D. At first these visits were semi harmless a trip four hours away to my grandparents house a new game for my DSI and the mention of her own house with a man let’s call him L . Well the semi harmless visits to my grand parents changed around the end of my 12th year and 13th birthday and thus begun a hell that would last until I was 14. Now I had met L a short stocky man with a son let’s call him J . Within the first visit I watched L break my mothers arm and J began molesting me and as any scared person would do we said nothing so from then until my 14th year early into it my mother suffered constant physical abuse and every other weekend and holidays I was being sexually assaulted by an older teen . L used to take my phone so I couldn’t call for help if I ever got brave. So one day I did I snuck my phone from L’s pocket and ran out of the house to a near by creek and frantically called my dad and told him of only my mothers abuse. The only thing I remember after that was him picking me up flash forward I’m 15 and living with S I know why she lived near a better school and I wanted the best for myself and thought I could just push through four years of her I was so wrong . Upon moving in with S and her new husband H she cut off all contact I had with D just radio silence that eventually turned into he’s forgotten about or hates you and after three years that included physical and verbal abuse from H and constant lies and mental manipulation from S I believed it . Flash forward in in my 20s I’ve escaped I have contact with S because she is all I had and I haven’t heard from D in years a huge life event involving cancer forces us all together and I find out that D never hated me and S told D I hated him , also untrue . So here I am a 21 year old with this broken family I after learning of My mothers lies did nothing and continued my life the way it was well when I turned 24 I worked out a big part of my life and began to transition I moved around 26 about two years into my journey and cut S out of my life completely I’m safe from her and free D knows of this and talks to me but hasn’t seen me since transition and doesn’t know me due to the circumstances above well I want to reconnect with D but it’s like meeting someone for the first time he knows nothing about the me I am now and no clue what I look like any tips do we go to dinner what do I say

So, I made a Pride month resolution and decided to come out to my dad. He was so incredibly chill about it. He basically said oh ok cool. He asked me a few questions and we discussed it a bit. I also told him about my mother and how I don't think I'll be able to tell her because she has become very resistant (I guess that's the best word to use?) about anything LGBTQ+ related these last few years especially. I told him about some of things she says/has said in the past and he sympathized with me. He told me that he felt that I was his daughter and that he was lucky to have me and assured me that something like this would never change that. I feel so much better now that someone in my family knows and I can actually talk to him for support. Even if I can never tell my mom, I'm glad I can talk to my dad.

I was just putting some pieces together and coming to my realization (a little belatedly at 37) when my middle son came out as trans.
To be clear, my SO and I support him completely; however he wants to proceed we're behind him and he's figuring things out.
So, the thing is, I don't have my shit totally figured out, either. I realized I was trans/enby/something‽ And literally like 6 days later as I was trying to wrap my head around it all, he came out. We're going through some normal hurdles, trying to figure out where and when he wants to tell who, setting up to see a therapist, buying a binder, and it just seems ridiculous to pile my thing on too. I know it's dumb, I just can't imagine trying to ask my mother to change how she sees me after we've had to drag her on board for my kid.

I was working for a black company when I collapsed from exhaustion and woke up to find that I had been reincarnated as the son of a weak lord in another world. I was attacked by a demon, lost my parents, and took over a territory that no longer had any residents... The path I chose to survive was to gather people under extremely white conditions! This is a territory management fantasy that starts ... Read Excellent development of reincarnated lords-When I tried to whiten by making use of the memory of the previous life, too many talented people gathered- - Chapter 28.1 - MangaPuma. Read more at https://mangapuma.com/excellent-development-of-reincarnated-lords-when-i-tried-to-whiten-by-making-use-of-the-memory-of-the-previous-life-too-many-talented-people-gathered/chapter-28-1

I don't even know where to start here so bear with me. I'm trying to figure out if I should or shouldn't do it and how to.
I'm in a long distance relationship and I know that already sounds like recipe for disaster. I've known my boyfriend for 3 years and we started officially dating this year after he came to my country and spent a month here.
When he left, I was okay with the relationship but I felt pressured into making it public. A couple of days after he left, he pushed me into making it official on Facebook. I wasn't comfortable (there were people on my Facebook at the time I didn't want snooping around on that but that's an unrelated event) but did it. Since then, it's like he's a different person. He was clingy and affectionate to the point where I complained to friends that I couldn't do anything around the house and it was annoying me but I grew used to it; now it's been months since he last said an "I love you" or even remotely something affectionate. He also changed his mind on having kids after we made it official (which I always made clear was essential for me) and keeps saying kids are terrible, the worst, etc.
Add to the mountain of tension the fact I feel like he's not prioritizing our future or thinking about it. He worked minimum wage (which, again, it's fine) but refuses to study even though his circumstances fully allow it because, and I quote, he doesn't want to explore the workers and sees any type of degree as a tool for that (I have a bachelors, a specialisation and now I'm applying for my masters). But the straw that broke the camel's back is this:
A couple of days ago we had an argument over something I know it's dumb but it felt disrespectful. I am an odd woman, there's no way to put this with any other words. I am a huge age of sails enthusiast (I sail myself and visit naval museums for fun), read books and diaries of sailmakers and shipmakers and captain's logs, I build ship models, have sea themed tattoos and am absolutely in love with historical reenactment, know the language of fans by heart and even make my own butter. It's recently become a problem in the sense that my boyfriend doesn't care about any of this (which is okay, we're all different people) but also thinks I shouldn't and has grown resentful at my interest.
I shared a historical fact with him (in a very "can you believe this???" way) that ended up with him saying "who cares" and blowing up when I said I did. He got aggressive, said "fuck all of this, I'm going to bed" and hasn't talked to me since. He did go to a friend in common's birthday party and seemed all happy and not at all bothered by the things he said. We haven't talked since.
He does struggle with depression but refuses to get help for it because he thinks life under meds is miserable and fake. I'm just so tired to feel like I'm in a battlefield inside my own relationship. This is not the man I started dating and I don't know how to get out of it, a mix of embarrassed that I have to tell my family about it and a grief because I love his mom and his brother, but my friends think this is not the life I should be having, that if he likes bimbos that's his problem and not mine but I don't know what to do.
How do I approach this? Am I exaggerating in wanting to break up? I just feel so guilty and anxious thinking about it but I also want to feel safe, not like I have to walk on eggshells and feel ashamed for my interests.

Someone I used to know from church suddenly died yesterday, and it's really making me think. She was my primary teacher and a lovely person. She had six children, the youngest 12 and the oldest 21 with the oldest being severely mentally disabled. Her husband was extremely abusive and has a restraining order against him. She died in a head-on collision last night when a 90 year old man fell asleep while driving on the highway.
I have come to terms with the fact that there is no "after." She is dead and her consciousness no longer exists anywhere. At the same time, how could this happen? Why did this happen? I know it was just a horrible accident that could have happened to anyone, but why her? She was the sole caretaker of four of her children who just lost their mother. The fucked up part is that my mom just told me there must be a reason she was killed! What kind of fucked-up sadist of a god would kill a single mother and leave such a gaping hole in so many lives? I'm just still in shock, I guess, but I'm kind of just trying to rationalize I think.

I (31F) am a first time/Stay at home Mom of a 1 year old daughter who I love more than words can ever say. I need advice on how to cope with being an introvert with PTSD in a small close-knit/cliquey town I reluctantly grew up in.
For context: I grew up in an emotionally/physically abusive household where my parents never have and never will have a nice thing to say about ANYONE. They’re the two most critical people I know. They’re not close with any friends or their own families. Looking back, I know now my parents never wanted happiness or fulfillment for my brother or myself.
My comfort zone has always been the “lone wolf.” I was bullied through out school mostly. I’ve had a few good acquaintance-friendships with other females growing up but never any best friends. It’s never been a skill of mine to make friends or open myself up to other potential friendships as I rarely made myself approachable however, I’m trying to turn this around. Leaving the house is hard for me but I push myself for my daughter to go as many places I can without having anxiety of seeing someone I know. I was put on fluoxetine a few months ago but it made me super tired. I stopped taking it despite it helping with my fear of public settings. I don’t have Facebook or instagram as I know it will only make me feel worse about myself.
I do take my daughter to the public library for story hour once a week, a quiet nearby playground with very little traffic, to visit relatives and I am planning on future swim lessons for her. I’m worried she doesn’t get enough social interaction with other kids her age. My husband and I plan on signing her up for a daycare/preschool program for stay at home Moms twice a week when she turns 2.
Overall, I really don’t want to give my insecurities and PTSD to my daughter. I want nothing more than for her to be carefree, happy and well rounded amongst her peers. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m enough for her as a Mother or if I’ll be able to take her places without my legs going numb and having an anxiety attack in a grocery store. I’ve heard other Moms can be so judgmental and cruel to each other. My husband is super supportive and thinks I’ll eventually gain confidence in who I am and do what it takes to be what our daughter deserves.
I appreciate any advice or similar stories to mine. Thank you

Watched a little bit of his live stream from Monday.
He seems to have a lot more tattoos, and mentioned that he pays for YouTube Premium.
Great Job Awesome!

When I got pregnant last year my SO and I set some boundaries with family members about being around LO in the early weeks.
No children allowed and we asked people to not come when sick, wash hands and asked to get some shots because it was during flu season.
JNMIL got extremely upset because she is antivax and apparently was “crying for weeks” according to FIL. SIL went completely NC with us. We saw her on xmas day but besides that crickets for the past 10 months. MIL said some hurtful things to us. She said she wasn’t coming to my shower and then just showed up (which I didn’t have a problem with her coming I was just annoyed by saying she wasn’t coming). She told my SO his family doesn’t like me and wouldn’t come to the baby shower. I haven’t done anything to make anyone not like me. Apparently I pissed people off not going to bridal showers when I was vomiting and exhausted in the fall.
The biggest thing for me is that in January I got very sick in my third trimester 36 weeks. I was on oxygen and bed bound for several days stuck in the hospital for 9 days. None of them sent a single text or called not even to SO.
They live 30 minutes away. I wasn’t expecting a visit or anything but it was very cold. Not even saying anything afterward.
I had a difficult delivery I had pre eclampsia ended in a C-section and I hemorrhaged and I ended up having a post partum hemorrhage as well after I got home. I was vomiting and felt very weak. No one asked how I was when my SO called them when we got home from the hospital. They asked about the baby and then changed the subject to SIL upcoming wedding. I don’t really care but I just see it showing that they hate me. They came and met the baby when she was like 11 weeks old. They were happy. They acted nice. I acted nice-they are her grandparents I wanted them to be able to have a good moment. They offered ti babysit her sometime.
All of a sudden MIL is texting me again. Not a lot but a few times. SIL still hasn’t met LO and she is 4 months old. Two weeks ago we went to a family gathering on my SO side. MIL hugged me goodbye in front of other family member (SO cousin) and then they tried to invite us over to their house and mentioned they had a crib set up for LO if we wanted to stay over.
Also LO is their first grandchild. They got a crib for her when we haven’t spoken to them in months and in my opinion they burned a bridge with me. I felt like it was DELUSIONAL.
I had an excuse that I had to go home to pump but I was shocked she would think I would want to do that. I was also kind of annoyed she acted like that in front of other people like we are close and like nothing happened. Previously we would hang out with his family at least once a month and have dinner and play games. It just feels weird and fake to me now. I talked to SO and I said I think we need to have a conversation with them. I’m not expecting an apology I know I won’t get one but they need to understand they can’t throw a tantrum and go no contact with us when we make a decision for our daughter about her safety and also it’s our comfort level. I already have post partum anxiety.
If they don’t respect our rules we won’t be having them around because we already felt disrespected the first time. For example SO and I agreed we wouldn’t be allowing overnights until she was at least 2 and possibly longer unless there was an emergency. I can see them having a problem with that.
SO asked them to come over to talk. FIL called to say MIL and SIL want to forget the whole thing and move on. They are refusing to talk about it. Also now they are refusing to come over when invited to talk but before they were SOOO upset they couldn’t see LO when they wanted to. I asked my mother to babysit the night his parents were supposed to because now they aren’t wanting to see us because we would like to talk like adults instead of give people the silent treatment.
I told my SO I am never going to stop his parents coming over to see LO if he wants them to if they give advanced notice. I really think they shouldn’t come “do us a favor” until they agree to talk to us. I could see MIL trying to use that as a guilt trip later because she did last fall. They would see her if they agreed to speak with us. Am I wrong? also is that just being controlling or is that narcissism?

Imagine walking into a burning building, and everyone laughs and tells you the fire’s all in your head. When no one believes you, are you going to stay to burn up with them? Every passenger in that crowd waiting to embark on the luxury cruise was already dead—they just didn’t know it yet! I stared through the windows of the terminal at the magnificent Seastar, at the broken glass and spatters of blood that only I could see… and then I fled.
Without warning a single soul.
What would have been the point? My name is Cassandra—I see death six days before it happens, and can feel it if I shake a cold hand—but no matter what I do, I can never, ever prevent it.
My flight took me as far as the escalators before a flash of purple brought me screeching to a halt. Lily Tsuki? No—it wasn’t the purple-haired musician who’d given me with cruise gift card. But suddenly I remembered how I’d been looking forward to hearing her performance aboard this very vessel…
Oh God…
It was one thing to turn my back on doomed strangers. Terrible as it sounds, it’s a bit like reading about a catastrophe in the news. Quite another thing to abandon somebody I knew! Could I really leave her to become one of the bodies putrefying in the belly of the Seastar? Every time I ordered a drink at my favorite bar, I’d remember I hadn’t even tried to save her!
“Fuck!” I cried, fumbling for my phone. “Oh, fuck me sideways… how much time…?”
Ninety minutes.
Ninety minutes to get on board, find the musician, and… what? Convince her to disembark?
How?
And yet my feet were already turning toward the gangplank—because as it turns out, I would rather plunge headlong into a ship full of the rotting dead than face an empty piano bench and the guilt that no amount of alcohol would ever drown. But to have any chance at persuading Lily, I’d need to know how the passengers died. This meant that in addition to finding a purple-haired needle in a Titanic-sized haystack, a horrifying task loomed ahead of me. I was going to have to do something I had not done in a very long time—plunge directly into my vision. Walk into its very maw and face whatever gruesome horrors lurked at the source of that nauseating odor.
I was going to have to find the bodies…
… and whatever killed them.
Boarding
The stench was so overpowering after crossing the gangplank that I dropped to my knees and dry heaved. The flow of passengers moved around me past the concierge desk. I must have looked exceptionally sick, because a pretty girl in a suit skirt approached, asking if I needed assistance. She reached out a hand to help me up—cold!
I staggered away from her and inside. Then—because I felt I might throw up—quickly found my way out to the promenade deck and the blessed breeze.
Lifeboats hung overhead. Beyond the rail, the sea sparkled in the afternoon sun. Cushioned loungers lined the deck. None were in use, presumably because the pool, patio, spa, and other amenities on the upper decks had much more attractive areas for lounging. I leaned against the rail and gulped the air, listening to the waves splash against the side of the boat, noting blood spatters further down—but nothing signifying the cause of the blood. Just vague signs of violence.
After circling the entire promenade deck and spotting only the occasional bloody spatters, I gritted my teeth, pulled my shirt collar up over my nose, and plunged into the nearest door.
The Seastar’s interior had the atmosphere of a luxury hotel. People milled about the restaurant and shopping area, buzzing with excitement, talking about cabaret shows and fine dining, while perky crew members answered questions, all perfectly oblivious to the putrid sweet rotting stench. I’d most likely find Lily Tsuki at the piano lounge, but since I didn’t yet have any plausible explanation for what had happened to the passengers, I continued wandering, entering a bustling café overlooking the ship’s grand staircase. Stepping over an enormous blood stain on the carpet, I passed the counter, nauseated by the fancy pastries behind their glass cases, peering among the tables and chairs. Paused when I spotted an eyeball in a teacup. No trace of how it got there. No body with an empty socket. Just the eyeball, swirling in a congealed bloody jelly at the bottom of the cup…
I scurried away, snatching a cloth napkin to cover my nose.
The interior darkened as I ascended the central staircase. No electricity, I noted as I clutched the railing. Why would the power be cut? A storm?
But storms don’t scoop out eyeballs with a dessert spoon….
Coming onto deck 6, I peered down a long, dim corridor lined with passenger cabins. To passengers coming and going, the hall was illuminated by electric lighting—but since I was seeing the ship six days in the future, the narrow hallway vanished into blackness. With no way to enter the cabins, and nothing much to see here or in the other dimmed halls of the passenger decks, I ascended until I reached the pool.
Pool Deck
Deck 9 opened to wide panoramic windows, dining, a spa, and of course the pool. I emerged outdoors with relief, removing the napkin from my nose as the sea breeze gave some respite from the odor.
Around me, people partied in bikinis and beachwear and suits, sipping all manner of drinks around the sky-blue swimming pool. A young woman stretched on a blood-spattered lounger, oblivious to the gore beneath her tanned figure. A few bodies floated among the swimmers, bloated and discolored. My vision shimmered briefly as a teen boy swam right through one of the bodies, splashing as if it were not there. My heart lurched when I realized that it was his own, albeit dressed in different clothes—
“Oof!” I grunted as a small figure bashed into me, her arm grazing mine.
“Sorry!” cried a little girl in a pink swimsuit, bolting by as her mother yelled at her to watch out for people.
I tried not to think of how cold the little girl’s arm felt. Counted the bodies: eight in the pool. One by the towel bin, head caved in. I made a circuit of the pool, occasionally brushing against people—cold, cold, cold.
No survivors, it seemed.
But why?
That was when I spotted a shirtless old man sitting at a table under an umbrella. I froze, goosebumps prickling along my skin. Unlike the floaters, there was no obvious reason for his death. His back was to me, the bare skin of his shoulders gray and blotchy. In his hand he held a broken drinking glass. He was positioned in repose… so what killed him?
My heart quickened as I moved round to the front of him.
His mouth hung open, shards of glass and a mangled tongue lolling out, crimson trailing down his shirt front. The source of the chewed glass was obvious—the cup in his hand was broken, its jagged edges bloody.
He’d died choking on the glass.
“What the fuck is happening here?” I whispered.
Forward Stairwell
The jogging track and the sundeck—decks 10 and 11—offered a stunning bird’s eye of the pool and ocean, but I did not stop to take this in as I circled to the bow, opting to take the forward stairs down, rather than central.
The stench hit me like a cloud.
I had to stop as I descended into the dim stairwell, clinging to the railing, doubled over, gagging. It was so so bad. My eyes watered. My stomach bucked. And it was dark. Thank God for my phone’s flashlight. I fumbled it on and, napkin firmly over my nose, plunged down into the depths… The phone’s thin illumination flashed along the carpeted stairwell and the hall of the first of the passenger decks. I kept descending. Paused at an unidentifiable slick red mound. I was examining it under my light when a crewmember jogged up to me and asked, “Lose something, miss?” “Just my marbles,” I muttered, shooing the crew member away and inadvertently brushing his hand. Cold. I turned my attention back to the mound.
A slimy pile of intestines on the stairwell… trailing down to a disemboweled body.
Intestines… eyeballs… eating broken glass… nothing about this makes sense! I swiveled the beam to check further downward.
That was when I found the source of the odor.
My path down was obstructed by a mass of bodies. The ones underneath seemed to have been trampled, but the ones on top… I squeezed my watering eyes and retched against the wall. Some of the bodies bore horrible mutilations—fingers bent and twisted, joints out of alignment, faces smashed in and jaws torn open. Many more appeared to have been crushed in the press of bodies. Best guess, there was a wave of panicked people rushing upstairs from below, colliding with a wave of others fleeing down from above.
Why this staircase? What was near this part of the ship?
The cabaret lounge, I realized. No electricity. No elevators. This was the nearest stairwell to the auditorium.
Closer. I was inching closer to uncovering the fates of the passengers. And yet, I still had no idea what the passengers were fleeing from. Who were the attackers? Or… I thought of the eyeball. The glass chewed and swallowed.
An icy pinprick at the base of my skull whispered the question I didn’t want to ask…
Why? Why did some of the passengers go mad, and do it to themselves?
Piano Bar
I took the long way round to the cabaret theatre, going all the way back up the stairs and coming down on the central staircase, only to detour on hearing the notes of a piano. I found myself in a cozy lounge and spotted a purple-haired figure at the keys. And just in time—the ship was due to depart in less than half an hour!
“Lily!” I rushed over.
The musician’s face lit. “Oh it’s you, friend! You made it!”
“You’ve got to get off the ship!”
“Off the—”
“I know it seems crazy but you’ve got to! Everyone on board is going to die—I’ve seen it because I’m psycho!” I heard it a second later and smacked my forehead. “I mean—psychic! PSYCHIC!! I can see the future.” At her scrunched eyebrows, I burst, “Look I know how I sound, but I’ve been able to see things since I was a little girl, and I am telling you that this ship is going to go dark! The engines will cut out! People are going to flee and trample each other on that forward staircase…” Launching into a rapid-fire recounting, I was just getting to the eyeball in the teacup when she interrupted:
“You’re afraid of some sort of terrorist attack?”
“No, no! No! It’s almost like… a kind of madness, a contagion, that spreads through the ship—”
“A zombie apocalypse?”
“Not zombies…”
“Poltergeists? Possession?” She played a riff from a horror movie. “Should we call an exorcist?”
“We should leave!” I checked my phone. “Quickly!—"
“What an odd duck you are! I can’t imagine any sort of catastrophe as big as you’re saying. You know this ship has tons of safety protocols. And even if I did believe some disaster were drawing near—do you really think I could abandon crowds and crew?” She looked at me over her glasses, shimmering purple lips curving in a smile. “Listen friend, if this were the Titanic and I was the only one who could see the iceberg, I’d stay to steer us right, not run off leaving everyone to die!”
Icy fingers raked along my spine. Even if she wasn’t taking me seriously, she was right—I did have a moral obligation to save people. An obligation I’d been trying to fulfill ever since I was a little girl, until the attempt killed my brother, and even after, I kept trying for years and years…. until at last I realized that there is no way to change anything. That is why I call myself Cassandra. For the Greek prophet doomed to predict the future but never be believed. Try and prevent what I’ve foreseen? You might as well try and pluck the stars from the sky!
Every hand I’d touched was cold. Everyone on board would die.
My fists balled, fingernails digging so hard into my palms they bled. “You really have no idea what you’re asking of me…”
“Oh, I’m not telling you to stay. I’m just explaining why I have to. Besides, I’m under contract.” She winked and focused on her playing as guests entered and sat at nearby tables.
She had no idea! None whatsoever! If I thought there was even a sliver of a hope, I wouldn’t abandon people! Oh, if this happy-go-lucky musician understood the futility!!
But she will, came another, darker thought. She will know the full depth of the horror coming…
“No,” I whispered.
“Huh?” She shouted, “Wait—friend, where are you going?”
But I was not listening. The cabaret theatre—was the answer there? The reason for the crush of bodies in the forward stairwell? I rushed past the cafe with the eyeball in the teacup, through the grand doors into the cabaret hall—
—but the cabaret hall was surprisingly quiet, save for a light touch of classical music. A few passengers mingled here or there, unnoticing of the cadavers draped on chairs and tables. The stage itself was pristine, the wood smooth and polished in the fading orange light through the windows. Apparently, the origin of the panicked flight up the forward stairwell was not this grand entertainment venue—nothing here supported that theory.
Nonetheless, I gave the place a thorough search until my phone’s battery ran low, and then I returned to the grand staircase.
In one direction lay passenger cabins. In the other, the gangplank back to the port terminal and safety.
“It’s not too late to be a coward, Cass,” I said. “Run from the ship, run from the empty piano bench at the bar, find a different, cheaper hole in the wall to crawl into like—like the cockroach you are…”
Always the survivor, eh…?
Or… or, I could try just one more time. “‘Hope,’” my brother always said, “is the thing with feathers.”
And look what happened to him! flashed through my mind. My heart slammed against my ribcage. I’d just die too, unless I left in the next—how many minutes? I checked my phone, but it was dead. Like I would be if I stayed.
A horn sounded the Seastar’s departure. A distant cheer rose up from the upper decks and balconies. I felt a brief panicky impulse to run back out on deck and throw myself off the ship… but in truth, my fate had already been decided before the ship’s horn blew. I hadn’t been paying attention earlier, but I’d been rubbing and rubbing my hands, and finally realized they were cold. Probably had been since I’d boarded. I shuffled leaden feet toward the passenger cabins, guided by my phone’s light to the brass number plate for 4044—my cabin. Reached for the knob and stopped.
That smell—dread squeezed my intestines like a wet rag.
Smoke. Burnt meat.
I wrinkled my nose and opened the door.
Orange rays shone through the window, the sunset so vivid it almost gave the illusion that the room was on fire. The walls and ceiling were charred. The edges of the mattress and sheets a smoldered ruin. But the worst damage was the small sofa by the coffee table. Broken bottles scattered round. And there on the sofa—
My fingers went limp on the door handle as I stared into melted sockets of a body charred beyond recognition. A dark line encircled its wrist. The blackened remnants of a charm bracelet.
My bracelet.
While the man on the pool deck swallowed glass, I would succumb to the insanity here, dousing myself in alcohol and flame—
—immolating myself.
[Part 1]

Hi all, I am generally curious about user's experiences in Toronto with this. Other than laxatives how was the process? My mother-in-law is going for one and am curious

I forgot about this story about what seemed to be an all-around terrible mother. It was around midnight, and I get to an apartment complex to pick a woman up. Her apartment was on the far side of the building, away from the parking lot side, so she had to walk a few hundred feet to get to me. She comes around the corner with her little girl walking next to her. I'm thinking, "what kind of mother has a child this young awake at this time?" I was about to find out..... After the daughter is strapped in, she says she forgot something. There's a very quick back and forth between the two. Then the mother says, "I'll be right back!" and darts off to their apartment, leaving me no time to prevent myself from being ALONE WITH HER CHILD.... I have a 5 year old. I would never hurt a person, let alone a child, but this woman had no idea who I was. I exchanged some pleasantries with her to kill time. She seemed like an adorable little girl. Then her train wreck of a mom got back, and I took them to the destination. I'm not going to even get into the things she talked about on the ride, but let's just say I was seriously considering calling child protective services, but I decided against it. Maybe I should have. But I think this was the craziest thing I've experienced on a ride.

I got a realistic tattoo of an eagle on the right side of my chest. People called me Eagle in rugby. It was a combo of my first and last name. I made a few life changing friends through rugby and it was a great sport. So why not get an Eagle on my chest? My apartment life was okay, I had a couple of friends. Was working third shift. It took me a couple of hours to have it done, I posted it on Instagram. Looked in the mirror for a while to see how it fits on me. Then that was basically the end of that. I mean I would occasionally look at it like anybody else would look at their tattoos. I forgot about it. I started to get more focused into my day to day life. Started to think about purpose and meaning to everything. I quit work because everything was becoming exhausting and hopeless. Food started to feel like more of a hassle. One day, I got a booming voice in my head saying. “what are you doing!” I hesitate. I have never heard voices in my head before. I am scarred to the bone. He says, “Answer me!” I said, “I don’t know.” It felt like hell was about to open up in my gloomy room. The voice made me get on my hands and knees to beg for my life. I said that I would give the voice my eyes. I couldn’t do it. The voice went away. Afterwards I felt god walk into my skin. I have never felt any presence before, especially one so pissed off at me. He asked what religion I was, I said Catholic. My family and I stopped going to church when I was young. God told me to flip to pages in the Bible. All clearly relevant to me. I started to break mentally. Many different delusions flooded me. I went to the mental hospital after being told to text my mom that my dad put a demon in my head. I got prescribed ambilify and zyprexa. Ambilify got rid of most of the delusions besides hearing God and other people. Zyprexa seemed to mute the voices that I heard. After being cleared to go to my home to be monitored by my parents. Which I had to do because my lease was up and couldn’t find another place. Which I hated because my mom is extremely intense, self centered, and overbearing. She also doesn’t listen so how would she be a good monitor. Anyways, my prescription wasn’t transferred over from California, I thought I was fine so we just dropped the whole thing. Anyways, the voice of god came back. Told me to start talking to my parents. I was told to repent for every sin that I’ve done. I’ve been told that I done a remarkable job and I’ve been told that I could be let go. Last thing I need to do is get the tattoo off my chest. Carved into my chest with ink and a needle. This is idolatry. You will rot into the earth unless you listen to God and find Jesus. TLDR: Animal, fish, or livestock tattoos may cause religious damnation, intense fear, misery, and vivid audible hallucinations of every human and creature ever to exist. They will make you beg for your life, find god, pay dearly, and repent. I despise myself for being a creature of cursed hate for this world.

My 2 year old son started daycare in the middle of May. He was there for a total of 7 days (M-F of one week, didn’t go the following Monday, & was there Tuesday & Wednesday, & was asked to leave Wednesday when I picked him up at the end of the day.) He is non verbal. He babbles. He understands things. He’s been tested for autism & other things, and they said that everything looks normal, he’s just delayed & it will come when it comes. He’s been home with me, his mom, for 2 years. I’m young, so none of my friends have kids & I don’t live near my family. So he’s only been around me, his dad, family on the holidays, & that’s really it.
He had really bad separation anxiety. He cried all day, but they didn’t tell me that until the day that he was asked to leave, even though I asked the teachers & directors every single day how he was doing. They said he was having a hard time but all kids do, it’s new for him, he’s not used to other kids & strangers, & he’ll eventually adjust. But then the day he was asked to leave, all of a sudden it’s “he cries all day long.” I knew he was having a hard time socializing, which they told me that he wants to play by himself, but hopefully it would fade the longer he’s there. He wouldn’t eat the food they would serve for breakfast & lunch, but he’s not incredibly picky, I just think his anxiety was making him not hungry. & when naptime came, he would go right down cause he was tired from crying all day. But when he was awake, then all the kids were because he would cry & wake them up, & that I understand being a problem because it’s affecting other kids. They would call his name and he wouldn’t respond or follow commands, which he does for me & his dad, his grandma when he sees her (most of the time, I mean he is a toddler lol.) When I was talking to the director when she was telling me it’s “not a good fit,” I was holding my son & I was talking to her, he saw that I was conversing with her & so he felt comfortable around her. She said to him “that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile at me,” & I said back “its because he sees I’m talking to you & know you, so he’s fine around you.” When I would try to drop him off every morning, they stressed telling me to drop him off & leave to establish a routine, but I knew that wouldn’t work for him, but I was willing to try hoping to make the teachers lives easier.
I understand he probably wasn’t easy, but I feel like they wanted a well seasoned kid, not a daycare newbie who doesn’t know any other kids, and didn’t know how to act in that environment. They asked him to leave after 7 days.
I’m touring a new daycare tomorrow because I NEED to get back to work. I received 2 job offers the same day he was asked to leave, which I had to decline to stay home. What should I tell the new director to make her get an idea of my son, so she can tell me ahead of time if it won’t work or not? What should I do to make him better suited for daycare? Is it my son, the daycare or both? I really don’t know what to do. This first daycare situation has me anxious that he won’t adjust anywhere, & I won’t be able to work, which is just not an option. I don’t want to get him into a new day care, apply for jobs, just for him to be asked to leave again & I have to stay home.

My son is 19 months old. He has a lot of the signs of autism according to a professional I talked to today. They’re going do an official evaluation next week. But I know he most likely has it. My question is what now? They say early intervention is key. But why is it key? What does early intervention do in contrast to later intervention? What is going to happen to my son when he gets older and starts school? Is he going to have a hard time fitting in? Is he always going to need extra help with social skills? What am I as a mother to expect now?

AITA for not telling my ex-wife I didnt own our home
^AUTOMOD Thanks for posting! This comment is a copy of your post so readers can see the original text if your post is edited or removed. This comment is NOT accusing you of copying anything. Read this before contacting the mod team
I am from the UK so we don’t do prenups and after marriage property is split (doesn’t matter who owned it first)
My parents aren’t super rich but were able to buy three properties in which one of them they let me live in free with my ex-wife, she never asked me if I owned the property and assumed I had been given it by my parents for free (property is still in their names)
My wife and I have been married for 13 years and have two children 9M and 16F
both of us work and make the same income
she had started seeing her co-worker and is 7 months pregnant with his child (he wants nothing to do with the child)
The divorce proceedings have just started and she has asked that I buy her out of the share of the house so she could purchase her own or I let her purchase me out, I may have been the asshole as I laughed in her face lawyer and said I do not own the house and it belonged to my parents.
both her and lawyer were gobsmacked and tried everything in the books to try and get spousal joint asset on it as we have been living there so long (did not work)
I have moved back in with my parents and my 16 year old has chosen to stay with me (it’s a big enough house) while we have split custody of our 13 year old. My parents have served her with eviction notice.
She is spilling her guts to everyone on how she has been cheated out of a home and will be homeless while pregnant
Her side of the family and friends are calling me evil for allowing a pregnant woman to get evicted and also possibly lose custody of our son.
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Howdy, y'all. In today's installment, we have our first in-person interaction with Lucy and I'm trying to remain civil. On the plus side, we meet Jack for the first time and Strike is finally able to review the fabled CCTV footage for himself.
If you're looking for the previous installment of this re-read, here ya go.
Chapter 3.02 - Bawling with Gusto
What happens:
Strike steels himself as he approaches his sister Lucy’s house in Bromley, his nephew Jack’s birthday present tucked underarm. Lucy greets Strike at the door with a friendly inquiry about Charlotte’s whereabouts, to which the latter responds with another lie about family crises drawing her away. Strike is ushered to the back lawn, where a small herd of children are playing some sort of yard game.
After a predictably awkward exchange with his brother-in-law Greg, Strike is approached by one of the mothers. While he endures a thoughtless, but innocent, comment about his leg, Strike’s patience reaches its limit when she brings up his estranged father Rokeby. After she is driven off by a brusque response, Strike quietly goes back into the house.
Making his way to the living room and its TV, he pulls the DVD of CCTV footage that had been included with the case file that Wardle sent over. Since the DVD drive on his office computer isn’t functional, Strike wasn’t able to review this evidence previously. The black-and-white footage begins with the camera overlooking the intersection of Bellamy & Alderbrook Roads. “The Runner” appears, hooded and wrapped in a white scarf. There is an indistinguishable logo on his jacket. He pulls something from his pocket and appears to examine it before disappearing from camera view at 01:39.
The next scene begins at 02:12 with two men running down Alderbrook Road. In front is the figure seen before, followed by a smaller man, also hooded and with “dark fists.” He is running notably slower than his ostensible partner and they show no sign of acknowledgement or communication. There is a brief moment when a design on the back of his sweatshirt is revealed under a streetlamp but, even with several replays, Strike isn’t able to make out clear details.
The next scene on the DVD is of the inside of a bus, showing a man that was possibly “The Runner”, in this instance a “GS” logo distinguishable on his chest. Then it cuts to a final scene on Theobalds Road, showing someone that resembles the man on the bus, albeit sans white scarf.
Done with his review of the footage, Strike calls first John Bristow and then Derrick Wilson, leaving a message for the first asking to meet again in the coming week and for the latter repeating his request to see the layout of one of the apartments in person.
Just as he finishes his calls, Strike is approached by Jack, who overheard his uncle while using the bathroom. Strike readily hands his nephew his birthday gift. Jack is delighted with the soldier toy and excitedly plays with it and Strike until Lucy storms in and reprimands the lad for opening a present early and not being out and playing with his friends. After seeing his sister thoroughly ticked off, Strike “behaves himself” for the rest of the party.
Commentary:
I was interested to see first thing in this chapter that there was a large magnolia tree in front of Lucy’s house. Not exactly the type of tree I would expect for London, but, after a quick search, it looks like magnolias as ornamentals are quite popular in England. The one described here seems to be a Star Magnolia (Magnolia stellata), which was imported from Japan, as opposed to the Southern Magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora) that I think most people, at least in the US, picture when you say “magnolia”.
Ok, maybe it’s not that interesting, but it did distract for a second from the delight that is our first in-person Lucy scene! Ok…I don’t want this to derail, but I am not fond of Lucy. You could accuse me of being biased here since she is a “boring” (i.e. normal) person and she’s critical of my man Strike BUT…that’s not really it. I mean, I love ya Corm, but you definitely have issues and shit to work on. No, it’s really about her judgemental, dismissive, and presumptive attitudes.
Just as a taste, in this chapter we have:

Strike never wanted children…Lucy deplored his attitude, and the reasons he gave for it; she was always miffed when he stated life aims that differed from hers, as though he were attacking her decisions and choices.

and, on finding Strike actually playing (!) with Jack

‘For God’s sake, Corm, it’s his party, he’s supposed to be playing with the others! Jack, I told you you weren’t allowed to open any presents yet--pick it up--no, it’ll have to stay in here--no, Jack, you can play with it later--it’s nearly time for tea anyway…’

Please enjoy your birthday, kiddo…according to my strictly prescribed schedule of fun. Ok, look, I get wanting to organize a birthday for practical reasons, but that doesn’t mean you need to yell at a kid when they’re having fun with their uncle off-schedule. Yeesh.
Ok, I think I’ve already written more than enough about Lucy here. If anyone is ready to call me out for being too harsh on her, please comment.