Potluck birthday invitation wording

Hi Reddit,
Bago ako magsimula I just want to say na pwede niyo akong sabihan na masama akong anak. Tanggap ko na. Tanggap ko na ring one day, may balik ito sa akin.
Just a few hours before I made this post, another fight broke between my family. Apat kami: Ako (26F), Parents ko (60F, 51M), at Kapatid ko (18F). Hindi ko na babanggitin ang trigger ng away, kasi maliit lang. Pero it's bound to happen kasi matagal nang nagkikimkim ang kapatid ko ng galit sa magulang namin, lalo na sa tatay ko.
Nangyari ang away sa harap ng hapagkainan. Naoffend ang Tatay ko dahil hindi niya nagustuhan ang response ng kapatid ko sa kanya. In his words, "Puro na lang galit ang meron kayo sa pamilyang to." Sabi ko sa kaniya, "Wag mo nang pahabain, kumakain tayo." Na inagreehan naman ng Nanay ko. Pero nagpatuloy pa ring mag-rant yung Tatay ko, as he always does, at pinipilit na sumagot yung kapatid ko kung bakit siya ganon.
Sumagot naman yung kapatid ko ng, "Gusto mo talaga malaman?" Lalo nang lumala ang sitwasyon. Akmang susugod na ang Tatay ko nung harangin namin siya ng Nanay ko. Laging pisikalan nauuwi ang mga away sa bahay, kaya katawan namin ang lagi naming gamit para tumigil ang gulo. Habang sinasabi ng Nanay ko na "Tama na, tama na!" Sinasabayan ko naman ng "Wag niyo na pahabain, kasi gabi na. Hindi maganda ang kalalabasan nito."
Pero hindi pa rin tumitigil ang Tatay ko. Hinahamon niya ang kapatid ko na sagutin siya sa kung bakit "ganiyan ang ugali" nung bata. In his words again, "Gustong marinig ang sasabihin ng putanginang 'yan."
By this time, nanginginig na ako sa galit. At tulad ng kapatid ko, hindi rin ito ang first time. Ugali naming magkimkim ng galit dahil alam namin ang kinahihinatnan. Walang oras na matino at kalmado ang pag-uusap sa bahay kapag galit na ang pumapagitna sa aming apat. At ang galit ko, may pinanggagalingan.
Ako ang breadwinner ng pamilya ngayon. Mula nung gumraduate ako last year at agad na nakapagtrabaho, naging responsibilidad ko na ang buong pamilya namin. Natanggal kasi ang Tatay ko sa trabaho matapos siyang maospital sa mismong araw ng graduation ko. Basta hindi na lang siya pinabalik sa trabaho, ganun.
Hindi ko kinagagalit na may sakit ang Tatay ko. Kahit ba na kasalanan niya yan, wala naman akong magawa dahil andiyan na. Ang ikinasasama ng loob ko ay bakit ito ang landas ko. Bakit ako ang umaani ng kasalanan niya? Bakit ako, mula pagkabata, ang nagtatagpi sa pamilya namin? Bakit ako, sa kahit anong aspeto, ang lagi nilang kinakapitan? Pero sa mga gantong panahon na kailangan ng may magsasalita, ng may sense, isa lang akong anak, at mababa lang akong miyembro ng pamilya?
Ikinagagalit ko rin na, mula nang makita ng Tatay ko na may anak na siyang nagtatrabaho, kahit buhay pa silang mag-asawa at may pinag-aaral na anak, ay tinanggal na niya ang responsibilidad niyang maging magulang. Na nagiging magulang lang siya sa mga gantong panahon, kung kailan lumalabas na ang sama ng loob ng mga anak niya sa kaniya, at dapat siya ang naghahari sa tahanan. Na, dahil may kapatid at mga tiyahin siyang panaka-nakang nagbibigay sa kaniya ng pambili ng gamot, ay isasahod na lang niya ang mga palad niya at maghihintay ng patak ng grasya.
At marami pang ibang dahilan.
Halos ganito rin ang mga dahilan kung bakit galit ang kapatid ko sa mga magulang namin. Dahil pakiramdam niya na luging-lugi siya sa buhay. Para bang, habang lumalaki siya, dahil andito ako na Ate niya, hindi na nila inaako ang pagiging magulang nila sa kaniya. Hindi naman siya masyadong galit sa Nanay namin. Pero masama pa rin ang loob niya dahil nung nagkaron na siya ng oportunidad na umalis at baguhin ang takbo ng buhay namin, pinili niya pa rin ang Tatay namin. Kaya kahit naiintindihan niya ang pinanggagalingan ng Nanay namin, hindi pa rin maalis ang sama ng loob sa puso niya. Ilang buwan nang depressed ang kapatid ko dahil dito at sa marami pang bagay sa buhay niya.
Kaya nanginginig na ang kamay ko kanina. Sa galit. Sa lungkot. Sa awa sa kapatid ko. At halos 2 buwan ko na to kinikimkim, mula nung nagsimula ako sa bago kong trabaho, dahil mas importante sa akin ang maniwalang may pag-asa pang gumanda ang bukas namin kung maghihintay lang ako ng tamang panahon habang ginagawa ko ang mga dapat kong gawin sa ngayon.
Pero tao lang din naman ako na may limitasyon. At hindi na ako nakapagigil kanina. Hinawi ng Tatay ko ang Nanay ko para sugurin nang tuluyan ang kapatid ko. Kaya kinuha ko ang maliit na galon ng tubig mula sa lamesa at ibinuhos ang laman nito sa kanya. Pinaliguan ko siya ng malamig na tubig. At mula non ay nagsagutan na kami hanggang sa nagpalit ng damit ang Tatay ko at pumasok sa kwarto nila. Natigil lang noong tapos na akong magsalita at kinailangan ko nang pabalikin ang kapatid ko sa pagkain.
Habang nag-uusap kaming magkapatid, nagtatalo naman ang magulang namin sa kwarto. Di rin nagtagal, kumalma na ang paligid. At nakabalik na ako sa kwarto ko para ilabas ito lahat.
May guilt na namumuo sa dibdib ko dahil sa ginawa ko sa Tatay ko. Kinailangan ko ba talagang gawin yon? Para saan ko ba talaga siya ginawa? Dahil gusto kong makaganti sa kanya para sa ginawa niya sa Nanay ko nung isang araw? Para sa hindi niya pagsali sa kahit anong pagpaplano para sa 18th birthday ng kapatid ko nung mga nakaraang linggo? Para sa hindi niya paghingi ng tawad sa akin? Sa kapatid ko? Sa Nanay ko?
Hindi ko alam. Basta sa oras na yon, alam kong kailangan ko siyang pigilan na saktan ang kapatid ko. Dahil hindi ko inoobliga ang sarili ko na maging pangalawang magulang ng kapatid ko para lang saktan niya. Dahil hindi ko isinasantabi lahat ng pangarap at mga kagustuhan ko para lang sirain niya ang kinabukasan ng kapatid ko gamit ang isa pang suntok, isa pang sipa, isa pang sampal. Hinding hindi ko siya hahayaang pagbuhatan ng kamay ang kapatid ko tulad ng ginagawa niya sa akin noon.
Di ko alam kung paano siya haharapin bukas at sa mga susunod na araw. Siguro babalik na naman kami sa dating gawi na palilipasin na lang ang panahon na parang walang nangyari. Ewan ko.
Basta ang alam ko lang, ayaw ko na kanya. At ayaw ko na siyang kasama sa bahay. Sana bigyan siya ni Lord ng lakas para makapagtrabaho ulit at madestino sa ibang lugar. Yun lang ang paraan na mas makakahinga kami nang maluwag.
Amen. Lol.

Well. Tomorrow was the day. David was aware of the looming deadline over his head, but the fact that it was tomorrow felt more real. David spent most of the day taking a moment to himself. From the Cyclops, to the chimera, to his two quests, he never felt like he did enough. His quests were just glorified scouting expeditions, so he hardly had any Kleos from that. Every injury, every broken bone, every cut and scrape kept him up at night as he wondered if the oath would kill him or if his journey would be the one that would be his end. And at the same time, a question ran through his head, every single day of his time he was in camp.
Was David a hero? To be honest, he wasn't sure.
All his sweat, all his tears, all the times he fought through the pain of broken bones, the times he fought back his anxiety. He refused for it to come to nothing. Even when he felt like he would end up like he’d fail. That he'd end up a cautionary tale for campers to refuse to do Styx Oaths, he still carried onwards.
His mood soured even more as he remembered Alkis. Hm…he wondered what was up with his friend/mentor. As his oath got closer and closer, he saw less and less of the son of Dionysus. A part of him wondered if he distanced himself, in case that he would end up having to deal with David if his oath were to be broken. Whatever happened to him, he hoped that he was doing well. He heard he was doing better at Olympus, back when camp visited. A shame he couldn’t be there to catch up.
As David’s mind continued to muse, another uncomfortable part of him realized that the oath that caused him so much stress might not have been such a bad thing. He found friends, and a girlfriend on his journey. Even his body changed, his physique turning more into lean muscle as he grew to be well over six feet in height. Win or lose his little wager, one thing was for sure, David changed for the better at the end of it.
Well, it still wasn't hard confirmation, which was killing him. Self-improvement was great and all, but David really hoped his efforts were enough to not get eternal damnation. In the last week, David spent the last few days in a state of peace, more or less. Like when you finish a final exam. No matter what happened, David couldn't stop it now.
So, Was David a hero? Well, he did all he could to try. The rest was up to fate.
But, David was not the only one with their mind on the next day. To his surprise, both of his best friends, Cel and Jules worked on the beach to set up a bit of an early birthday party. They set up a good amount of streamers and balloons on the beach, David’ favorite music and set up lots of sweets, with David’s favorite food, al pastor. It was nice to know that, even if ths was his last day before damnation, he could enjoy himself.
Eventually, as the birthday party went on, David stood up to give a speech. He gave a somewhat awkward smile as the night went on, well aware of his time that may be coming to the end.
“So…almost eighteen years. If you told me when I came to camp that I'd make a dumb bet in front of my dad and risk my eternal damnation, I'd probably think you were crazy. And maybe run away. But yeah, uh. Word of advice: please don't do a Styx oath. It's not just a spicy way to say I swear. Trust me, the stress will kill you.”
He chuckled as he took a drink of water. Clearing his throat, he continued to talk.
“But, to my family, to my friends, to Ellie. Thank you all, for helping me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my corner. I've done all I could to uphold my end of the oath.”
He took a shaky breath, giving a smile that he tried to be reassuring, but it came out as more nervous than anything else.
“To be honest a part of me feels that I could have done more. But, whatever happens, happens. I just wish I could have had more…ah. You know…this is getting really heavy and like, I'd rather not so uh. Ahem. Everyone, please. Enjoy yourself. There's cake still I think…”
As the night went on, the son of Ares opened presents. He wasn't sure how practical this was, if he was being honest considering there was a non zero chance he wouldn't be able to enjoy it. But, he appreciated the gesture so, he gratefully opened each one. A Mythomagic box set, some Yu-Gi-Oh cards, some celestial bronze weapons… as he opened and opened every gift, there was one more box he saw. It was the size of a shoe box, in bronze giftwrapping. It didn't have a tag, or any way to tell who it was from. Huh. Odd. David opened the gift, and in the box was a bronze survival lighter and two pieces of paper, one folded and one rolled up. David picked up the smaller paper and read it out loud which said:
“To [DAVID RUIZ], we have reviewed your Styx oath in full and have determined that the oath has been fulfilled. In this package is your contract, now null and void. As it is no longer eternally binding, we recommend for you to dispose of it, as to avoid identity theft. We here at Styx Legal Associates recommend the traditional method packaged in with it, but as it is no longer binding for all of the afterlife, feel free to shred, burn or dispose of it as you see fit. Sincerely, Styx Legal Associates."
David opened the other paper, and sure enough it was his exact words, written on the contract. Along with…huh. So the Underworld has his social. Honestly, should have seen that coming. Making sure Jules didn't catch a peek at that, he grabbed the lighter and held it under his contract.
The paper burnt slower than David thought, the fire slowly chewing the contract as it pitted and blackened. David didn't realize he was holding his breath, until halfway through he let his breath out.
Two years. He forced himself in this oath for two years, proving to himself and hopefully, his father that he could shape up. It was risky, but his mind recalled when his Conquistador ancestors arrived to the New World, how they burnt their ships. It was a declaration, no going back.
Well, they were bastards, but the gesture was a neat idea.
David's eyes fixed on the paper, as if it would magically grow back if he turned his face away. This was it. Decisive victory, over his father for thinking he was a waste of space. But most importantly, against himself. His cowardice, his weak will, his anxieties. He took the pressure of the oath and became much better for it. For all the sleepless nights, for all the broken bones and near-death experiences it caused. The strange thing was he wasn't sure that he'd take it back if given the chance.
He wouldn't have met Ellie, or any other of his closest friends if not for his binding oath. So, as strange as it was, he felt a bit bittersweet as he watched it go up, now only a quarter of the contract left. As horrible as it was, it was a chapter of his life that molded who he was. Without the oath, forcing him to push himself every day to his limits, to ensure his own survival he wasn't sure that he'd be the person he was today.
Yet, he was looking forward to this new part of his life as the flame ate away at the paper. He watched it start to engulf the last remnants of it, reaching up to his fingertips.
“Ah!”
He instinctively waved his hand, dropping the shreds of paper as it fell onto the ground below. It burnt the last remnants until nothing was left but smoking ashes that David quickly put out with his shoe.
Finally. David was free.
And so, the Son of Ares, brave hero, on the night before his eighteenth birthday, wept.
OOC:
And there we have it! The conclusion to one of my favorite story arcs I've ever done in RP. Thanks to all of you for following along, from start to end! When I made David, I was surprised that, what originally was a simple character concept quickly became one of my favorites. It was really fun to write a character go from a wimp to a true hero in every sense of the word. With that, the curtains close on a two year long story arc. If you wanna rp with David, or just have your character hang during the party, both are good! This is a celebration both IC and OOC!
That being said, I'm not completely finished with David, so stay tuned...

Here we are again in the shit stew that is the Fallowveil trailer park. We’ve got soul eating strippers, jobs that kill us, and plenty of weirdos, both the trailer trash and the potentially paranormal variety. It’s the place where even your own computer sometimes threatens to kill you. I can’t tell if I should be worried, or annoyed that all my neighbors have such irresponsible web habits. I know it’s not me that brings in all these machine wiping viruses.
So even though I got a system error that literally said “you’re useless and you should die” I’m less interested in that. Stupid thing. Like I don’t already know I’m useless. That’s not what I’m depressed about.
Well… I suppose it's tangentially related.
I hope anyone reading will forgive me. I’m feeling the sting of rejection right now. It was really stupid of me to ask. Especially now. Nobody here really likes me. They’ve only been nice to me as a courtesy because I was almost involved in a god damn shootout. And my idiot self decided that was the perfect time to push one of my few friends all the way away. Never ask your friends out on dates. It ruins everything.
So there’s this woman. I’ve talked about her in the past. Trista Ramone. She lives in the far back corner of the trailer park. You can instantly tell which unit is hers because she’s covered every square inch of the property with gardens and a rabbit hutch. The place usually has beads and colorful flags hanging on its walls as well. She’s kind of a right winger’s nightmare. I know some of those flags represent various lgbtq plus communities.
She and I have been friendly in the past. We’re both night shift workers. We crossed paths quite a bit going to and from work so we struck up a friendship over the years.
Let’s just ripped the band aid off. Recently I’ve started thinking I had… stronger feelings for Trista. I got stupid and decided to tell her about them. She wasn’t interested. I get why. We have very different lifestyles. I like meat, and she thinks the meat industry is murder. I’m not willing to give up meat, and she’s not willing to give up her beliefs. It's as simple as that. Now things are incredibly awkward with one of my closer friends and I’m still spiraling into self loathing, where I belong.
She swore up and down that she absolutely still wants to be friends with me, but I’m not sure I believe her. The look she gave me when I told her I’d like to ask her out. It looked like sadness, but a small part of me is convinced it was pity, or worse, disgust and loathing, and that small part gave me ever shuts the fuck up. But anyway, she gave me permission to write about her.
She is one of the creepy fixtures of our little neighborhood after all. She told me to make her seem as insane and scary as I possibly could and that she should get to kill me at the end. She also handed me a few of her high school yearbooks, advised me to chat with another neighbor of ours who she went to school with, and to only use creepy rumors for the rest.
Part of me is really willing to describe her as awful, but that’s just my anger. I don’t like that part of me. Trista’s not a bad person at all. She’s just weird and she doesn’t want to date me. God damn it, Petunia’s right. I need therapy.
So, I’ve told the story of the sexy, scary lady living in a polycule here in the trailer park. I think she’s got a bigger heart than she lets on. I’ve talked about the stories surrounding the Schroeder Slaughterhouse. Now let’s talk about the hippy everyone thinks is a vampire.
She’s a taller woman, maybe five-seven or eight, and she’s skinny. Her typical wardrobe is… interesting. Try to imagine your typical new-age hippy/stoner girl, wearing colorful sarongs, crop-tops, beanies, baggy sweaters, T-shirts with colorful sayings on them, sandals, boots woven from some sort of exotic plant, beaded necklaces, bracelets, a few too many piercings and some intricate tattoos. Can you picture that kind of person? Well, take that and dip them in “goth” dye. Everything is black, and contrasts to her pale white complexion, her eyes are this unusual violet color, and then make the woman wearing all that seem kind of depressed about something. That’s the look Trista has going on. Like if Wednesday Addams was forced to dress up for Hippy Day.
I’ve heard people call her an emo vampire, but as a former emo myself, she doesn’t fill out all the criteria. She doesn’t typically wear any super tight pants or cake on the eyeshadow. I guess she’s just Trista. It might sound weird (and it is) but the whole thing suits her. Her style, tattoos, and complexion all create this image of skinny vampiric waif with a mysterious past and a freaky sarcastic attitude and I found the whole thing… kinda hot.
Trista keeps to herself. She’s made the most out of her little corner of the trailer park. Like I said, she decked out her unit with garden squares, and a Rabbit pen. No idea why she’s allowed to do that. A lot of these places don’t allow pets. I heard she was also trying to put in a beehive too, but her neighbors are fighting her on that one. Our park is a bit too condensed for bees. She has a permit to grow hemp, but of course it’s not for recreational use. She treats it and uses it to weave things like handbags, clothes, and other stuff. There’s a consignment store in town that sells all kinds of things Trista has crafted herself. So she’s handy and self sufficient too. She paints, she carves wood, she weaves, she crochets, she sews, and who knows what else. She’s so good at her little crafts that apparently she’s able to support herself just selling them and working part time at the Moonlight Inn outside of town.
She’s also relatively friendly. I almost feel bad calling her weird, but here’s the thing, I’ve seen some REALLY weird shit. People jokingly call her a vampire, and she seems to embrace that, but part of me seriously wonders. The big clue is, like I mentioned, she’s completely nocturnal. She’s always asleep during the day, and every blind and curtain is drawn tight. The one time she came out during the day, she had on this full body suit with a helmet with UV glass and everything. Even then, she only showed up to give Petunia a hug, before leaving again.
That was the first time I saw Trista, come to think of it. I was kind of intrigued. It was kind of hard not to be when someone shows up to a community cookout in a freaking astronaut suit. I approached Petunia after she left.
“Who the heck was that?” I wondered.
“MASON! I’m so glad you could make it! You’ve been here about three months now! How’d that job interview go?”
“Oh. It went well. I might be doing janitorial work soon.”
“Night shift?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“If it’s the night shift, you’ll definitely meet the person who just left. That’s Trista. She’s the girl with the rabbits in the far corner. Poor girl. She’s got a really bad skin condition. Can’t let sunlight touch her.”
“Oh. Is she like… albino or something?”
“No, she’s got pigment. I don’t remember what the condition is called. I guess it started in high school or something. You’d have to ask her. And hey! If you work the night shift, you’ll probably get to chat with her!”
Petunia wasn’t wrong. I started working as a nighttime janitor for a number of local businesses. That was when I first started noticing the pale goth hippy. She rides around on a moped, with her dark hair and her sarong barely billowing behind her. I couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but she waved to me as she passed by.
The next time I saw her, she was jogging, but here’s where it gets weird. When I first stepped outside, all I saw was a blur. It actually startled me as I whipped toward it, but then there was this skinny tattooed pixie, somehow still looking like a stonehippy/vampire in jogging gear. I swear she was moving inhumanly fast when I first noticed her. That was when we introduced ourselves. She actually jogged over to say hello.
“Hey! You’re the new guy right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. My name’s Mason!” I reached out to shake the pretty girl’s hand, like an awkward loser. She smirked and shook my hand. Her grip was weirdly strong, and a bit cold.
“I’m Trista. I’m the weirdo in the back with the rabbits.”
“Trista… oh, are you the one who has a thing with sunlight? I think Petunia mentioned you.”
“Yup! That’s me. Xerodoma pigmentosum. Sunlight hurts. I hate that it hurts.” She lamented.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I said sympathetically.
“You get used to it. You work at night?”
“Yeah. Works better for me.”
“I get that.”
And so on and so on. She’s pretty cool, with a bit of hilarious snark in there. And she secretly procured recreational weed she was willing to share. I kept working the night shift just hoping for another chance to talk to her and possibly buy a joint. Eventually she invited me over to share a joint. The inside of her place was actually pretty sparse and spartan compared to the outside. Though she was a fan of hanging beads. Most of the main room was taken up by her various crafting projects and supplies. Hemp weaves, some paintings, and even a wood carving of what I think was a rabbit, but it wasn’t anywhere near complete.
I followed her to her kitchen where she reached into the very back of her pantry and pulled out a shoebox. Inside was her stash, but there was something else which I found very strange. It was a pack of syringes and a thing I assume is to sterilize syringes. I know what you’re thinking, and that was my first thought too. It’s a poor neighborhood, the woman already smokes weed illegally, it’s not that big a shock that maybe she was involved in other drugs too. I decided not to ask at the time. We shared our joint, and we laughed, a lot. She made fun of me for being a lightweight, while I got completely hypnotized staring at the patterns of a shawl she had woven.
Months went by and we got closer, but I couldn’t forget those syringes. After a while I got worried. I’ve seen what heroine does to people. So the next time I went over to smoke and eat (vegan) pizza with her, I asked.
“Trista? Are you using anything other than weed?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why?”
“You can tell me if you are.”
“Mason, sweetheart, I’m a stoner. I don’t fuck around with anything else and I never have.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Can I ask what that set of syringes are for?”
“Oh. In my stash box? Those are… part of my condition. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Is it like… embarrassing?”
“Yeah. So don’t ask. Can we just watch a movie?”
So I don't ask anymore. But I still have no idea what she does with those syringes. Based on what I read about that Xerodoma Pigmentosum thing she says she has, I have no clue what she would need to inject herself with.
Another time she asked me to check on her rabbits for her during the day, as her usual “sitter” had something come up. All I had to do was chop up the lettuce and carrots she left out. As I was enjoying the adorable fluffy faces, one of Trista’s neighbors, a woman named Bridget, poked her head outside her door.
“Hey. Do you know what Trista injects those rabbits with?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen her use syringes on those rabbits. She said she was just giving them medicine, but I swear I see her inject them every week.”
“I… I wouldn't know. She just asked me to feed them.”
“I love Trista, but that always seemed so weird. She has to know vaccines are a hoax!” I tuned the woman out after that one. My mind was on that set of syringes. Why would she be using them on rabbits? These things were her pets.
I was starting to crush on her by then. But I couldn’t help feeling weirded out by that. I was actually going to confront her, but the next time I came to visit, she was literally inside the Rabbit hutch, on her back, squealing with delight as her rabbit friends nuzzled and played with her.
“Bonnibelle! That tickles! Marcy! No chewing. Finn? Watch where you’re sticking that foot! Jake? Where are you? EEEEE Lumpy! Not the neck!”
It was as silly and adorable as it sounds. She was forced to whip herself upright when two of her little friends tried to burrow under her dress. She finally stood up with a laugh, cradling a rabbit in her arms and cooing at it.
There was just no way in hell this woman was doing anything that would hurt these animals. Bridget is a paranoid antivax weirdo anyway. If Trista was using syringes on the rabbits, I was convinced it was only for their benefit.
So life went on. I got more and more reclusive over the years. Petunia, Trista, and my next door neighbor Fred were the only things keeping me remotely connected to the outside. And so we get to now. So let’s see. What are the stories about the weird vampire woman?
Well, there’s the fact that she jogs at night, solo, in a poor neighborhood. Petunia keeps the shitty people contained and behaving for the most part, but I still wouldn’t exactly call it safe, especially for a young skinny woman. But she does it without a care in the world.
There’s one strange event that some people like to connect to this. I never knew this guy, but from what I hear he was a total weirdo who leered at anyone even remotely female. And this is despite the fact he was married. His name was Josh.
I remember him a bit. He’s the guy that Petunia chased away from one of her barbecues. Supposedly he was heard saying inappropriate things to the groups of ten year old girls that were playing in the bounce house Petunia rented. Telling them how pretty they were. Trying to coax them to take off their jackets. Police reports were filed but ultimately nothing could be proven. The guy's wife, Carole, always defends him for some reason.
But anyway, I remember hanging out with Trista one night a little over a year ago. She hadn’t gone jogging like she normally did. I asked her what was up with that.
“That weirdo, Josh has started catcalling when I pass his place. It weirds me out.”
“There aren’t other people who do that at night? I’m still shocked you jog alone.”
“Not like this. I can flip off a wolf whistler. But this guy… he keeps trying to get me to stop and talk to him, and when I don’t? He shouts about my ass. I’m gonna have to talk to Petunia about that shithead, if anybody can reign him in, it’s her.”
I’m gonna guess she never got a chance. Two days later, the whole town was awoken by sirens. I was getting ready for my shift when I heard them. I walked down the road a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on. The cops were heading toward the other side of the park, so I couldn’t see much. But I did notice Trista, in her jogging gear, skulking in the shadows. I wondered if she was in trouble. But before I could call out to her, she sprinted straight to Petunia's house and banged on the door. Petunia welcomed her inside, and that was all I saw. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, so I just shrugged and headed to work, figuring I’d text Trista later.
I didn’t learn till later that Josh was found dead. He was lying prone, face down, partly hidden by bushes at the edge of the park. His neck was cut open. He’d bled out rapidly. He had a knife in his hand, and officially it’s believed he fell on it and accidentally killed himself. There was a cocktail of drugs in his system so most people accept that explanation. But others swear they saw Trista out for her jog around the same time Josh would have been bleeding to death. She got questioned, and she swore she didn’t see anything. Without evidence, there was nothing else that could be proven.
Trista’s a friend. I know that guy was being creepy to her. So I’m happy to take her word for what happened, even if my seeing her going to Petunia’s pokes a bit of a hole in that. I can’t be sure it was Trista though. So I’m not saying a word. But if a certain creep attacked a certain lady who is rumored to be a vampire, it’s not that surprising to me that he ended up dead after bleeding to death. I’m not all that broken up about it.
I’m not the one spreading that story. Josh’s wife was the one who started the rumor. So now some people are even more convinced that the weird nocturnal hippy chick is secretly a vampire.
She’s no killer. No matter what they say. She would only have defended herself.
So that’s all the stories I’ve heard that have any credibility to them. There’s more people who swear she and Petunia perform weird rituals, and people who saw her moving “inhumanly fast” and such.
But now I have to share what I found in the yearbooks Trista gave me. I wasn’t really expecting much. I checked her senior yearbook out first. She looks about the same. Pale, goth, hippy, and sort of sad. She kind of looks even sadder in these photos if I’m being honest, but that’s high school for you. She graduated in the top half of her class, no sports or extracurriculars. I’m left wondering how she managed to go to school at the time of sun was so bad for her. I’ll have to ask her about that. So nothing really new there.
It was the yearbook from her junior year where things got really interesting. I was in shock when I found her. Trista is somehow impossible to miss, but unrecognizable all at once. She’s full of color! She wore more typical tie dye hippy attire. Bright vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, and yellows, in every photo, and holy shit was she busy. Captain of the soccer team, first chair flutist, president of the “green living” club and the “vegan alliance,” top ten in her class, it was all incredible. I think the main reason I didn’t recognize her was her skin. It was tan, as though she were out in the sun a lot. Furthermore there were photos of her playing sports and standing outside in bright sunlight.
It was like her disease wasn’t there, which confused me. She told me it was something called Xeroderma Pigmentosa. But that’s a genetic condition. She would have had that from birth.
I sent her a text, wondering about this.
- Hey! Just went through your yearbooks. What happened? You had color? Did you discover Linkin Park?
- My disease happened. Right at the end of Jr. year. That’s why I wasn’t there for the final class photo.
- But your disease is genetic… isn’t it?
- I guess it was dormant in me.
- So it just… happened?
- Pretty much.
- I’m sorry.
- I got over it. Mostly. It was hard. My parents were both hardcore vegan naturalists and we lived in a place that was all natural light and such, so I had to live in a shed for a bit while they built a space for me. But in my family? We kinda lean into whatever life throws at us. It took months of depression to come to terms with it. All of a sudden I couldn’t be out in the sun, and I had new dietary needs that absolutely required non-vegan sources. So I leaned into it. I was a vampire now. I can dig dark colors and “vampire style.” I could make it my own by avoiding leather. And I’d be as vegan as I possibly could.
- You’re kind of awesome.
- Damn straight. So I learned to love the night too and now, here I am.
I gained new respect for her after that. Frankly I feel kinda shitty about making fun of her for being a vampire. There might not be anything paranormally weird about her after all.
She sent me one more text telling me I should talk to a guy named Frankie. She’d gone to school with him. He’s a decent enough guy. Works in the Bicounty mall in town.
I had to wait a day or two for another of Petunia’s get togethers to talk to him.
“Hey!” I said awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to strike up conversation with someone I haven’t really spoken to in a long time. “Frankie, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Been a while. How are you Mason? You okay after that whole thing at Red Nights?”
“I’m trying to be. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You went to school with Trista Ramone, right?”
“Ol’ Boho Ramone? Yeah. We were sort of friendly. But I was a jerk to vegans back then. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been hanging out with her. She’s being all mysterious.” He chuckled at that. “She said I should talk to you to learn more about her… weirdness? Everyone thinks she’s a vampire now.”
“She’s totally a vampire. I have no idea what else to call her?”
“Why do you say that?”
“What did she tell you about school?”
“Nothing. She just showed me two yearbooks. Between Junior and Senior year she went from colorful club president, to lonely vampire, because of her disease.”
“Nah man. I don’t want to talk bad about her. But she was kind of a bitch, junior year. She wasn’t just a colorful vegan. She was one of those “holier than thou” types who scoffed and talked down to anyone who dared to eat meat. Her “hippy” thing meant she never hung out with the popular girls but still, she acted like she owned the place at times. I was friends with this weird guy named Steven Jones. He was just kind of a weirdo. Skulking around in the background, you know? He HATED Trista. For a while I totally understood. I thought she was kinda stuck up. But this guy was like… irrationally enraged by that girl’s existence. I guess he tried to ask her out when he was a freshman and she politely declined. But he took that shit personally.”
“Huh. So like… why’s that matter?”
“Because Steven kept saying to anyone who gave him a second look, that he was gonna ‘ruin’ her. Never elaborated. But then the last month of school rolls around, Trista gets assaulted by an unknown assailant and a week later she’s got this new disease. Meanwhile, Steven spent a week strutting around the school looking smug, and saying ‘she got what she deserved.’ Then he disappears too. Teachers said he moved away.”
“She was assaulted?”
“Yeah. Someone in a face wrap tackled her while she was at one of her protests at the meat factory. The dude freaking BIT her.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was there. I came to the protest. I’ll admit I was trying to hit on Trista or one of the other girls there. But yeah. Dude dressed in all gray with a face wrap just charged in and went right for Trista. Knocked her down, bit her like a freaking zombie, then ran away before anyone could stop him. Didn’t even take his face wrap off. It was freaky, man.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“That’s what we all said. Trista needed a stitch. But while she was at the hospital, I guess she started getting more symptoms. She was out for the rest of the year. From then on, she was like she is now. Total vampire.”
“Was Steven a vampire?”
“I dunno. Probably. Little dickhead is what he is. Must have been him that attacked Trista, but nobody could prove it. Bite mark didn’t match or something. So why are you asking? You hang out with her at night right? You asking her out or something?”
“Oh. No. Just a friend.”
That was all I really learned from Frankie. It’s quite a story, and it’s full of unknowns that Trista refuses to explain. So I guess I’ll let readers be the judge. Is she a “real” vampire? Or just a weirdo? All I know is, she’s totally standing behind me right now and now I’m dead. Bleh.
I did come back to life to talk to Trista once I finished writing this. She enjoyed it. I may as well include that interaction.
I went to her place on my night off. She read my take on her and what the neighbors thought and she grinned. “Ha! I’m a total monster!” She chuckled. “So. What do YOU think, Mason? Am I a vampire?” She cocked an eye and playfully gnashes her teeth at me, making a pleasant little click.
I sighed. “No idea. You’re Trista. And… you’re my friend. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”
She looked surprised by that. “Aw. Thanks Mason. You’re my friend too. It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Absolutely not. We’re both weird shut ins.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It made me happy.
“Yeah but I got the ‘mysterious vampire’ thing going.”
“You have dirt in your hair from rolling around with bunnies. And you’re a vegan.”
“Bite me.”
“Says the vampire.”
“You know, if I were a vampire, I could have bitten you when we both went to the slaughterhouses a few weeks ago.”
“That just makes me stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mason. You’re not a loser either.”
“So. You know of any other good spooky town stories that I can do next?
“Oh, sure. You ever heard the tale of Salome? She was a witch who would mash up the seeds of a Sinapis Alba plant to make a diabolical potion she’d dump on herself. They called her the ‘Witch of the Sands.’”
I’m embarrassed to admit it took me four days to realize Trista was just fucking with me. I only figured it out when I looked up Sinapis Alba and learned that mashing the seeds just makes mustard. “Salomi the sand-witch.” Well played, vampire hippy…
Sexy Neighbor
Haunted Slaughterhouse

So , my ex's friend who is also a lesbian (in fact they have like a group of lesbian friends) wants to be my friend or so I think, I left my ex partner 4 months ago and now the friend in cuestion invites me to her birthday (apart from the fact that she answers my stories talk to me sometimes through social media and things like that) I don't know if it's a good idea on the one hand, but on the other hand I don't have friends in the LGBTQIA+ community here in my country, so the invitation seems very tempting to me, my ex- girlfriend doesn't speak to this group anymore, I think that's the reason why they invited me too, to know what happened between us and with her in general (it was a horrible break up) but I'm not sure if it will be something that will end up hurting me or making me uncomfortable. Any advice are welcome. I really want to know the gossip to be honest.

Jamaican singer-songwriter Minna LaFortune, a rising star in the reggae world, has released a stirring new single, “The Black Star Liner.”
LaFortune told Caribbean Life on Wednesday that the uplifting anthem pays homage to Jamaican national hero Marcus Garvey and his teachings of African liberation, self-reliance and PanAfricanism.
“’The Black Star Liner’ is a reggae song with a driving rhythm that invites the listener to join the symbolic Black Star Liner, a shipping company founded by Garvey in 1919, and journey to Africa on a ‘mission of love and togetherness,’” she said. “The lyrics express the pride, hope and love that the Jamaican people have for Africa and the African Diaspora, as well as the determination and courage to overcome challenges and create a more prosperous future with other Africans.”
LaFortune said the song is inspired by Garvey’s philosophy and the music of Bob Marley and Burning Spear, “two of the most influential reggae artists who embraced Garvey’s teachings and spread them to the world.”
She said the song also “predicts changes that were going to happen in the Jamaican-African Bond and in Africa that were in keeping with the vision of Marcus Garvey.”
“With its dynamic reggae rhythms and socially conscious lyrics, ‘The Black Star Liner’ takes listeners on a metaphorical journey from Jamaica to the African continent,” LaFortune said. “’The Black Star Liner’ metaphor is so powerful because it represents the dream vehicle that will carry African peoples back to their ancestral homeland.
“Just as Marcus Garvey founded the actual shipping company in 1919 to facilitate the return to Africa, my song envisions a symbolic journey where we’re all aboard that ‘liner’ headed to the continent with pride, unity and determination,” she added. “The Black Star Liner embodies the hopes of the pan-African movement.”
The song’s powerful chorus declares in part: “On the Black Star Liner, we coming from Jamaica/On the Black Star Liner, we going to Africa/With the words of Marcus/And the strength we possess/We’re on a mission of love and togetherness.”
“’The Black Star Liner’ is my humble contribution to keeping Marcus Garvey’s dream alive – that, one day, African peoples across the world will come together in the spirit of pride, self-determination, and unity,” LaFortune said. “It’s a reminder that, despite our struggles, we have an unbreakable strength that will ultimately lead us to a brighter future.”
The single is available now on all major streaming platforms.
LaFortune’s musical voyage began in Jamaica, where she said she was immersed in the melodies of her homeland.
Migrating to the US at 30, LaFortune said she continued nurturing her passion while contributing to the Caribbean Diaspora’s cultural fabric.
Her debut EP “Dance with Me” Volume 1, released in June 2023, showcases her originality and song-writing skills, and her artistic range on themes from romance to social commentary.
The festive “Caribbean Christmas” album followed in December 2023, fusing vibrant Caribbean styles.
LaFortune said she is currently working on “Dance with Me” Volume 2, set for a 2024 release, and continuing her powerful musical legacy.
She said included in “Dance with Me” Volume 2 will be her recent releases, “Reggae Music is Love to me,” “Don’t Drink Your Sorrows,” and “The Black Star Liner,” among many more original songs.
Contact Minna LaFortune at [info@minnalafortune.com](mailto:info@minnalafortune.com), or call 917-771-7935.

I have been seeing a guy for a few weeks now. We went on 5 dates and he seemed to be long term material (similar values etc.,). He opened up to me and mentioned a few things that seemed to indicate he was on the introverted side (cannot mingle with new people easily, takes time to warm up in new settings, prefers to spend weekends curled up with books more than socializing etc.,). I was concerned because I am a fairly socially active person and would like my partner to be able to take part in these as well.
I decided to invite him to a birthday party (~25 people) hosted at a close friend’s place to see what we are like in social situations with each other. He came off detached and not as enthusiastic as I would have liked him to be. We asked him a few times if he was uncomfortable at the party and he said he was fine there and that as he had mentioned before he takes time to warm up to new people and also he was tired that day. We also pointed him to employees from his company who were at the party so that he could have something common to talk about.
Overall, what he was telling us was not adding up to the behavior we were seeing so we thought he was hesitant to mention he was uncomfortable being there. Also his being that way was making my friends feel like they were doing something wrong and we were not very happy. I talked to my friends and suggested he should leave the party. He pushed back and insisted he was fine being there and that he liked to listen and observe in large settings as he had told me before. And he continued to stay. We gave up trying.
Next day a huge argument broke out between us. He said the realization that I took him to the party to see what he is like in social situations felt like a covert test to him because there was an “underlying motive” to why I took him there and there was no conversation about it my concerns beforehand. And that he felt his openness about his introversion was used to put him in a situation to “assess” him like that without talking about it with him. I mean, all I was trying to do was understand our social compatibility and I didn’t mean it to be some test. I don’t understand why taking someone to a party is such a big deal. He also says he felt humiliated being asked to leave like that since he was not being harmful to anyone there. I really don’t understand that either - all we were trying to do was spare him some discomfort.
Apparently he shared his version of what happened with some mutual friends and now they are grilling me. Am I am the asshole here? All we thought we were trying to do was make him feel comfortable there and I don’t like how he is spreading negativity in my friend group. What do you all think?

This is me on a work break, making use of technology, and I suggest Jamie and Doug do the same, using these tools, and humans on the ground to be more effective public speakers.
ChatGPT VERSION: The speaker reflects on their deep desire for a loving family and support system, possibly triggered by pregnancy hormones. They express disappointment in family members who forgot their son's birthday and worry about the impact on him. Despite this, they go to great lengths to ensure their son has a memorable day, taking him to the library, surprising him with a splash pad visit, and organizing decorations and dinner. The speaker contrasts this effort with perceived last-minute preparations for their own events, highlighting a sense of neglect or imbalance in familial relationships.
The speaker expresses disappointment and hurt over the lack of connection with extended family despite efforts to nurture it. They reflect on their own desire for a loving and supportive family environment for their children, contrasting it with their own experiences growing up. Despite recognizing the toxicity in some family relationships, they still long for a sense of belonging and care from extended family members. Ultimately, they acknowledge the reality that they cannot force familial love and attempt to come to terms with it.
The speaker expresses deep emotional hurt over the perceived lack of care and connection from extended family members. Despite their efforts to nurture relationships and adapt to others' expectations, they feel consistently judged and unappreciated. They discuss setting boundaries to protect themselves but acknowledge the pain it brings. The speaker's partner notes that this reflects more on others than on the speaker herself, but the speaker continues to feel hurt and defensive.
They emphasize the importance of their immediate family unit and their desire to create a loving environment for their children, contrasting it with the apparent indifference of extended family. The speaker worries about their children's future without strong familial support and feels frustrated by the perceived lack of acknowledgment for important milestones. They question whether their feelings are valid and struggle with the disconnect between their expectations and reality.
The speaker discusses estate planning, expressing concern over who would care for their children if something were to happen to them. They feel disappointed by the lack of acknowledgment from extended family members, especially on important occasions like birthdays. They express gratitude for their followers who provide support and excitement, contrasting it with the seeming disinterest from their own family.
The speaker emphasizes the importance of setting boundaries and prioritizing relationships with those who show genuine care and support. They acknowledge the difficulty in sharing such personal struggles but believe it's important for healing. Despite the challenges, they focus on gratitude and ensuring their children feel loved and cherished, even if it doesn't come from extended family.
The speaker reflects on their journey of trying to integrate into their extended family while realizing that not everyone is meant to be a part of their inner circle. They express gratitude for their partner's support and discuss the difficulty of setting boundaries with family members who don't reciprocate love and support.
They emphasize the importance of focusing on positive relationships and finding one's own supportive community. Despite the pain of rejection, they encourage others to prioritize their own well-being and seek relationships that are mutually fulfilling. They acknowledge the challenges of vulnerability but believe in the potential for growth and healing through therapy and setting healthy boundaries. Ultimately, they find solace in the love and support of their immediate family and prioritize creating a nurturing environment for their children.
Doug expresses immense pride in Jamie's growth, acknowledging her journey from trying to win over social media commenters to recognizing toxicity and setting boundaries. He praises her for spreading positivity and gratitude, which has positively impacted their family and attracted like-minded individuals into their lives. Jamie tearfully expresses gratitude for Doug's kind words and emphasizes the importance of focusing on the positive aspects of life, regardless of challenges. They both believe in the power of positivity and gratitude in attracting happiness and meaningful relationships. They end on a light-hearted note, acknowledging their upcoming responsibilities but expressing excitement for the next episode.

I have been seeing a guy for a few weeks now. We went on 5 dates and he seemed to be long term material (similar values etc.,). He opened up to me and mentioned a few things that seemed to indicate he was on the introverted side (cannot mingle with new people easily, takes time to warm up in new settings, prefers to spend weekends curled up with books more than socializing etc.,). I was concerned because I am a fairly socially active person and would like my partner to be able to take part in these as well.
I decided to invite him to a birthday party (~25 people) hosted at a close friend’s place to see what we are like in social situations with each other. He came off detached and not as enthusiastic as I would have liked him to be. We asked him a few times if he was uncomfortable at the party and he said he was fine there and that as he had mentioned before he takes time to warm up to new people and also he was tired that day. We also pointed him to employees from his company who were at the party so that he could have something common to talk about.
Overall, what he was telling us was not adding up to the behavior we were seeing so we thought he was hesitant to mention he was uncomfortable being there. Also his being that way was making my friends feel like they were doing something wrong and we were not very happy. I talked to my friends and suggested he should leave the party. He pushed back and insisted he was fine being there and that he liked to listen and observe in large settings as he had told me before. And he continued to stay. We gave up trying.
Next day a huge argument broke out between us. He said the realization that I took him to the party to see what he is like in social situations felt like a covert test to him because there was an “underlying motive” to why I took him there and there was no conversation about it my concerns beforehand. And that he felt his openness about his introversion was used to put him in a situation to “assess” him like that without talking about it with him. I mean, all I was trying to do was understand our social compatibility and I didn’t mean it to be some test. I don’t understand why taking someone to a party is such a big deal. He also says he felt humiliated being asked to leave like that since he was not being harmful to anyone there. I really don’t understand that either - all we were trying to do was spare him some discomfort.
Apparently he shared his version of what happened with some mutual friends and now they are grilling me. Am I am the asshole here? All we thought we were trying to do was make him feel comfortable there and I don’t like how he is spreading negativity in my friend group. What do you all think? Am I the asshole here?

So , my ex's friend who is also a lesbian (in fact they have like a group of lesbian friends) wants to be my friend or so I think, I left my ex partner 4 months ago and now the friend in cuestion invites me to her birthday (apart from the fact that she answers my stories talk to me sometimes through social media and things like that) I don't know if it's a good idea on the one hand, but on the other hand I don't have friends in the LGBTQIA+ community here in my country, so the invitation seems very tempting to me, my ex- girlfriend doesn't speak to this group anymore, I think that's the reason why they invited me too, to know what happened between us and with her in general (it was a horrible break up) but I'm not sure if it will be something that will end up hurting me or making me uncomfortable. Any advice are welcome. I really want to know the gossip to be honest.

What I’ve been doing constantly for days is searching people who tagged $GME and $AMC on X. I say…..
$GWAV is the next one according to Reddit. Check it out. Spread the word and the wealth. $GME $AMC @theroaringkitty
Keep doing that all day every day. You can even invite them to the subreddit. Put it all over Reddit even in roaringkitty. If we all do that it’ll grow. Good luck to us.

I am a guy in my early 30's. I'm an International Student in the country where I live. I got a match on CatholicMatch with a girl just 6 months older than me who lives 158.3 km away in the same country, it would take me 4.5 hours to get there by train. She was beautiful. Not a supermodel, but she has a pretty face and gorgeous eyes. She is 6 months older than me, from a similar culture, and we speak the same language. We both accepted the match in November 2022.
We started chatting and the conversation was pleasant. She told me that she lived with her older brother, she worked as a babysitter and that she didn't have a visa. The conversations were a bit slow, because we both took our time responding, but it was pleasant. I often mentioned that she was busy studying and doing my homework. Actually, by looking at old messages, I could see that it was me the one who took longer took longer to respond. Sometimes, because I didn't know what to say and others times because I didn't notice her replies. I suggested her that when I had some free time, we could we could go and explore a town together. I thought we could meet in the capital because there should be lots of fun things to do and it's kind of in the middle for both of us. She seemed happy, but when I suggested a date, she didn't respond in time. In early February 2023, I gathered some courage, found her on Facebook, and sent her a friend request. She accepted it. I looked at her photos and realized that she came from a lovely family and that in 2015 she wanted to be a nun and she went through the Discernment period for five years (2 years with vows). I felt more attracted to her after that. We started chatting and she said she was glad that I found her there. I suggested going to see a cultural site. She responded that her immigration and financial situation was not the best and that it would not be wise for her to get out of town for a date. She said that she would like to meet me, but that to do so she would have to travel to where she was.
Maybe I sabotaged myself because I responded that I would like to be friends with her and chat on Facebook and that I could go there, but that she would take me a little longer. I She responded that getting to a woman's heart requires some sacrifice and that she wasn't doing it on purpose to test me. I said she understood. What I meant was that I would like to start as friends and that I would be willing to go whenever I have free time. She doesn't know it, but I was dealing with a serious procrastination and anxiety problem. I tried to message her again after that, but she seemed a little distant. I even wished her a happy Valentine's Day and she responded with just a smiley face but no words. The last time I texted her was in August for her birthday. But there wasn't much conversation. Months passed and communication cooled down, it went through some academic research challenges as well, but I kept hoping to resume communication at some point after I graduated. I just didn't know how to do it.
In December of last year, she posted a photo on Facebook with her new boyfriend. I felt sad, but I tried to understand it. Because I was curious, I checked her boyfriend's profile and found out he is from her hometown but lives in this country, and his a dad. She also posted a picture with him again one momth ago and this time it did affect me. It doesn’t make sense that something I already knew could affect me so much. Just in case you are wondering I taking therapy, and I also have ASD, so it’s hard for me to let things go.
I know this is not serious love, because we never got to meet each other, and it's not good to idealize people or 'building castles in midair', but I still feel like I was a jerk and not a real gentleman to her. I'm just writing this as a form of catharsis. but I feel better now after writing this and talking to my therapist.

Note: Taken from Introducing my first OC
PS: Largely minor changes.
(Let me know if there is any inconsistency.)
Letter R in team REPR(Reaper): Rogert "Roth" Oberon
Sex: Male
Age: 25 during the Fall of Beacon, 26 or 27 during Atlas arc.
Birthday: 18th day of the 10th month
Height: 1,87 meters
Species: Faunus, Bear. Notable markers: Bear snout.
Family: Father and mother, lost a younger sister and brother in a Grimm attack.
Class: Tank. Speciality: Defense, taking and holding ground.
Colours: Cares little for the colour rule yet the colour of the symbol is brown and uses black armour. Varied colours in the rest of the attire intended for camouflage depending on the environment.
Semblance: =Redacted under orders of Headmaster of Beacon= Authorized personnel only as follows:
Animal morphing, Roth Oberon is able to turn into a big bear and is able to remain in full control after years of practice. However, to maintain control of his semblance he needs to change into a bear once every 2 weeks for at least 2 hours to avoid permanently damaging his body. Gained the semblance in his 3rd year as a Huntsman trainee during a hunting mission. Becomes stronger, aura takes more damage and is more animalistic in animal form.
=Classified information ends=
Profession: Huntsman in training at Beacon Academy, team leader. (Former)
Vale defence forces. (Former)
Guardsman of Beacon. (Current)
Appearance: Strong arms with strong legs, broad shoulders, gold brown bear eyes, and brown hair. Bear mouth/snout. Note: Functional muscles instead for show.
Weapons:
Graduate Huntsman in Atlas arc: Two gauntlets with automatic machine guns and a sword blade coming out of them, grappling hooks on both, a spear tip and spear adjusted for his height and physique that can be split into 2 pieces. Carries dust grenades with him with empty dust slots and different dust with him.
Student to graduate Huntsman in Mistral arc: Spear, machine gun gauntlet, sword gauntlet, one-shot reloadable rocket launcher with ammo and a spear tip from a broken spear.
Strengths:

• Roth is very strong and durable allowing him to survive hits that would kill many others.
• Adaptable to changing situations and has strong willpower, keen intelligence, and a sharp mind.
• Versatile combat technique and knows how to use a variety of weapons or forms.
• His ability as a leader and calm attitude has kept his team in tip-top shape and has made them self-reliant on themselves making the team effective alone, in pairs or as a group.
• Bear´s sense of smell.
• Classified ahead: Can gain bear´s abilities because of his semblance when turning fully into a bear or just partially.

Weaknesses:

• Can be slower in a fight than most fighters even in his younger years.
• Workaholic.
• Roth´s darker impulses are closer to the surface when he is in charge.
• Great anger towards Grimm makes him hunt them with abandon or lure them in relatively easily. (Weakness in academy years, in adult years unorthodox trapping and luring method against Grimm. Double-edged sword.)

Inspiration: What I want to be. A person who could beat Hazel Rainart and Brutes from Batman Arkham Knight. Gregor Eisenhorn of Warhammer 40k. Kratos of God of war in his Nordic life.
Skills:

• Knows many melee weapon combat forms and has a lot of fist-fighting experience. After training and fighting in missions in a military unit for 3 years after graduation, he has learned to fight like a commando.
• Edit: Knows how to train dogs.
• Knows how to make new weapons from the ground up with primitive equipment and knows how to maintain them effectively and how to repair them.
• Rogert knows how to survive in the wilderness for potentially years. Building shelter, use of camouflage, hunting for food and foraging, how to lose a hunter, navigating etc. His speciality is tracking a target or missing supplies.
• Advanced stealth skills and ability to disappear enhanced by military education.
• Knows how to make grenades and bombs and how to defuse them. (Trained in the military and by Parish Broc.)
• Knows the basics of using military equipment and weapons after graduation and training in the military.
• Interrogation skills enhanced by his physical presence and knows how to gain information by talking. (And knows how to extract information by inflicting pain and suffering. Trained with some success by Elena Nathara.)
• Knows psychological warfare and guerrilla tactics. Specializes in Grimm.
• Knows criminal psychology, how to establish a crime scene and how to gather evidence. (Trained by his father and Raina Odell.)
• Knows how to administer first aid. (Basic and Huntsman academy training.)

Personality: Rogert is a loner who was given the job of a leader despite not wanting it. He became more comfortable in the role over the years yet deep down never truly believed he should be a leader.
While a humble person, Roth has no illusions of his strengths and how powerful he can be when in battle.
Roth values loyalty and honesty, things he has shown to his team by having no secrets from them and has encouraged his team to do the same with great effect. Because of his values in honesty, Rogert does not forgive attempts to lie to him and tries to limit his words to be as truthful as possible.
Roth has a ruthless attitude when it comes to leadership and dealing with enemies. As a leader, Roth expects nothing but competence and giving 100% in combination with a firm chain of command and on-the-spot obedience.
Roth is a strong believer in learning and improving skills. Because of this, Roth has learned from his teammates the skills he lacked before meeting them and has instructed them to do the same.
Desiring always to have the upper hand, he learned to keep his emotions in check at all times and focused on his studies in his free time and school time. Other people often consider him emotionless, yet no one is willing to say it in his earshot, and he doesn´t mind this thought about him.
Rogert has mastered his emotions, and he can make decisions that would make other people disgusted with themselves be it torture or cruel punishments without flinching as he got older. While his team reminds him about his better nature and while his actions have never been directed against an innocent, Rogert believes he can´t afford to hesitate to act when many lives are at stake.
His team, REPR, has helped him loosen up, and he discovered his liking for playing the saxophone and driving. His team has helped him to become a better man than he thinks he needs to be as the years went by.
Facts about the character:

• Rogert prefers to be called Roth because the name is easier to pronounce, and he prefers a shorter name.
• Rogert put the team to vote during graduation on whether they should stick together as a group. Ultimately, the team was split up, yet REPR occasionally would help each other on big operations. He voted No, yet never said why, even when asked.
• Roth´s closest relationships are with his parents, Elena and Raina, and he thinks highly of Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck due to his teaching and wisdom.
• Intended to be a counter for Elm, an Ace Operative.

Extra skills:

• Scholar: His lack of social interaction in his school years made Rogert focus more on his studies than on making friends. Due to this, he has gained a lot of knowledge and an interest in researching history and myths. Math skills and history were his best subjects, and he often likes to talk about both when asked.

[TW: talks of SA] I (26f) recently cut all contact with my mom (50f). For 20 years of my life she stayed with my dad who is most definitely a narcissist. She knew very much about the abuse and continued to stay no matter how much I begged her to leave. She had the means to do so and at one point we did leave. For a year, before she took him back and they bought a house together. I begged her not to get back together with him, but she did. I never really thought of my mom as a narcissist, only a victim because of the abuse my dad inflicted on the both of us. He would pin us against each other constantly, so when I was finally kicked out at 18 my mom and I got to experience a relationship without him for the first time. Not long after, they got divorced because the abuse was no longer distributed and was solely focused on her.
When my mom moved out on her own she promised that I would always have a room and a key to any house that she lived in (which has never actually happened because my room has been given away to her boyfriends child who rarely visits). After group and individual therapy things seemed to have gotten better between us. But not long after my mom and dads divorce she immediately got into a relationship. 6 years later she wants to break up with him due to him using her for money and some dangerous behaviors like playing with guns while drunk and punching holes in her walls. She has come to me for advice and reassurance about this decision (which she did to me as a kid with my dad). I have told her it’s more than the right thing to do, and in fact, my child and I won’t be going to her house until this man is gone.
On Mother’s Day (the day before he was supposed to move out) she got back together with him and didn’t tell me until I got on FaceTime with her and saw him at a family gathering I was going to be heading over to. Where she decided to finally tell me that he was in fact staying. She then proceeded to say we can talk about this later and hung up. She knows I won’t show up where this man is, and invited him to Mother’s Day with our family without telling me so I could decide if I was going or not. I reminded her through text my son and I won’t be coming over anymore and I will not be talking to her until he was gone completely. The next day she posted her vacation with him on Instagram and I blocked her on everything.
I booked an emergency appointment with my therapist because of the immediate wave of PTSD I was experiencing from my dad. This brought up so many memories of abuse and her constantly choosing him over me and our safety. All these years she’s told me the reason we didn’t leave was because she was afraid he was going to gain some sort of custody and the only way to protect me was if she was there. But she wasn’t. Her job required her to fly around the country constantly where I was left at home alone with him for some times a week at a time. She never believed any of the abuse I was telling her was happening and continued to take his word for it.
After cutting her off I’ve realized just how toxic she truly was. Anything I ever told her was used against me to gain favoritism with my dad. When I came out to her as bi I told her not to tell my dad because I wanted to wait until he was in a good mood to tell him and she told him that night. My mom has knowingly had sex with my dad in the same room as me multiple times while I was a child. She informed my aunt that I was thinking about taking legal action against my dad (who she knows will tell my dad) for what he did to me as a kid (SA) which she also informed my aunt every detail of. As a child I was never allowed to express myself. I was only allowed to do my hair or wear clothes that she liked (the color or style). She never showed up to my events at school and she doesn’t even know my favorite color or care about any allergies I have. She’ll make dinner for the family and include things I am allergic to. When I talk on the phone with her it feels like she’s waiting to talk about herself and the second I talk about me suddenly she’s too busy to talk. She never respects any boundaries I set for my child when he’s stayed over or even when I’m around. She never wants to learn about my interests but I definitely know hers which include getting mad when I don’t want to go shopping with her for hours on end, knowing I’m broke. The only good things about her that I can remember are when she would buy me things because that was her only way of connecting with me.
The reason I’m asking if she’s a narcissist or just toxic is because I have this idea of a narcissist exhibiting all of the behaviors of my dad. Not everything about her is bad, but the things that are, are BAD. I’m just now coming to terms with my mom’s behavior and whether or not she was just abused for so long that she’s just a victim or if she’s been a narcissist too all along.

Alright so let me get down to it, I am 14 he is 15 and I have liked him since early March but have never spoken to him at this point only once in our design technology class we used to have together. Over the easter break he added me on snapchat and instagram and we have been talking everyday without fail non stop, over the easter break i was in japan with family so there was a time difference but we adjusted to it for the 2 weeks i was there. He'd ask me to send him daily vlogs of everything i'd do there and just to spam him so when he wakes up he has something to wake up to pretty much. Within the first day of us talking he had already started making silly jokes, my friend had said something funny so i put it on my instagram story and he replied to my text saying "oh just go text __" with a rolling eyes emoji as a joke. We had also talked about birthdays and I mentioned how his is in my calendar and notes and he said he knows mine too and called me cute when i said i have it in my notes. We have a mutual friend who had hinted to him to start talking to me and be my friend because i was too shy to and this friend had asked him within 3 days of me and him being friends if he likes me, he asked "does she like me (implying me) or does she like like me because i wouldnt mind either" he said he wasnt sure if he liked me or not because it was too early. Our mutual friend would tell me he would always say "oh we are young and theres no point of dating at this age" since he had one girlfriend previously and he is over it but is just tired of getting played with pretty much. Fast forward me and him and our friend made plans to go out together in London but she couldn't make it so it was just me and him, nothing was awkward when we met up we hugged and got on with it. He held doors open for ,e offered to pay for my stuff, offered me his food because I hardly bought anything (I don't enjoy KFC that much but he wanted to go so we did), we went to an art gallery together, he suggested we go on London eye together and if you don't know what that is it's pretty much a big ferris wheel. We were at a bus stop together this same day and we were talking about our favourite games pretty much getting to know eachother face to face and we held eye contact through the whole thing and we were both smiling. When we were going home on the train he asked me to sit opposite him which I was confused why and he wouldn't tell me why but I'm assuming it was to look at me because he didn't have a problem with sitting next to me at all. We were out until sunset pretty much 8 hours and we hugged when we went home and oh my god his fragrance was SO strong but smelt SO good and it stayed on me even when I was home. Anyway skipping forward to when we were back to school, I made him a gift basket with stuff from Japan and I gave it to him and he hugged me infront of all his friends and sent me videos of him opening everything and he was super happy with it. I told him the night before I was so so scared to give him it because what if he didn't like it and he told me he'd love it no matter what, i also mentioned how i tried my best with it and he said cute. We have matching bracelets which I suggested and he was fine with me getting them from japan for us, we have been wearing them everyday pretty much and everyone at school thinks we are dating. Now, the bracelets I bought from japan he complained it was quite tight on his wrist so I ordered us new ones, they are spiderman themed ones gwen and miles with a half heart magnet on each so when you put them together it makes a full heart. I gave it to him around 3 weeks ago and he was so happy with it, he walked past me and i said he looks zesty as a joke and he laughed and told me to shut up but said thank you once again. We play games together all the time and our main thing is roblox horror games we both adore them and it's so fun playing them with him and pretty much everyone teases us at school about eachother. Anyway, 2 weeks ago I got a dm from a girl at my school asking for my snap as she wanted to tell me something, in summary she accused him of taking his bracelet off around his friends and saying he was talking to other girls to cover up the fact he was talking to me pretty much embarrassed of me. I sobbed my eyes out and texted him asking to talk, he said sure and I expected him to text me but he ended up calling me, I talked to him about all this and he was shocked and proved it all false, at this point we had been wearing our 2nd pair of bracelets since he complained about the other but 1 day he forgot it at his dads house so we didn't have it that day. He said to prove to me he never takes it off he's going to wear the bracelet that is tight on his wrist and I thought it was so so sweet, we were on facetime for so long and his mum ended up inviting me over to their house and i of course went. Later that night I texted him saying i'm getting mixed signals off him and I kinda played it off as "oh we are friends and im scared u like me" so he said no he doesnt but i wanna think its because of the way i worded it, moving on i met up with him last period and our other friend pretended to drop me off and he said "heres your girlfriend __" and he said "ah thanks __" basically not flinching to me being called his girlfriend, we walked together and at this point i am also friends with his sister. We were walking and we went to his room, he let me do his makeup and he downloaded my favourite game (Final Fantasy 7) to play since I was there and we played a bit together, we played some minecraft too and it was hillarious and a roblox single player horror. I know it sounds childish but i really love these things, we ate dinner in his room and I also noticed he had a shelf dedicated to the gift basket i made him, literally nothing on that shelf but the stuff i bought him which was so cute. He also has a shelf dedicated to fragrances and he got me to pick my favourite and coincidentally was the one he wore when we went out together and i told him how it stayed on me all day and he said "good that means its good". Then I had to go home, I was at his home pretty much for 3 hours and I had to go since he had rugby, anyway when I was leaving I gave him a hug and I felt silly so i tightened it slightly and I felt him do it back which made me really happy, I said bye and walked down the stairs and I could hear it took a while for him to close the door which made me think he watched me walk downstairs and my theory was proven right when he texted me after saying how nice my mums car is. I texted him after thank you so much for having me over and he said i need to come over again and we said he could come around mine next time. Later that day I posted some pics I took on my story which he was fine with as he viewed them and didn't say anything. The next day he texted me during last period asking if i could take some specific ones down as his entire class was pretty much teasing him and he got tired of it, he usually doesn't care what others think about us and has literally told me that before himself but I completely understood as it was pretty much his whole class so of course I did and he said he didn't want people to think we're dating, I apologized profusely and things were back to normal, the day after I get a text from my friend and she asked if he was texting me during last period the day prior and i said yes how did u know and she said he had a baby smile on his face which made me happy. Anyway, since then it has just been pretty much mixed signals he said we should go ice skating together because i mentioned i never have and we are also planning to go painting in the park together next week. Earlier this week I think Tuesday? I curled my hair and i sent him a snap of it as we were planning to play together and he replied to it saying "Woah" and i asked what do u mean woah as i didnt know what snap he was replying to, we got on a ps party and i kept pestering him to tell me why he said that and he was making excuses saying he replied to my story but it showed up as snap and basically just getting nervous and bothered until he finally said "your hair looked very nice" he also complimented my necklace last week and i have only been wearing that and whenever he sees it he comments on it which makes me smile. On the Tuesday he also remembered what times I had my tutor so we planed when we could play which i thought was really sweet too. On Monday I sent him a lot of videos of me yapping and i said sorry for the spam at the end and he said "wdym sorry for the spam yap all u want" so then Wednesday or Tuesday I can't remember which, I literally sent him over an hours worth of videos I'm NOT exaggerating and it was of me literally just talking and he watched every single one and replied to them too and even saved some in our chats, he has tendencies to save random pics and vids of me in our chat. Today he was meant to do district sports for our school so he didn't wear his bracelet as he didn't want to break it but then last minute they said he couldn't go and i went to his form / homeroom and checked up on him and he genuinely looked upset which almost made me cry and i wanted to hug him so bad but everyone was there and i didnt know if he'd be okay with it so throughout today i've literally been sending him videos and texts to make sure he's okay now i'm just waiting on a reply. his replies are SHIT literally all his friends and his ex say this too so its not just a me thing. also is it a good sign if he introduced me to all his friends? over the weekend i was in a ps party with him and 3 others for like 2 days! He's generally a really friendly person nobody dislikes but I also think he likes me and literally everyone i tell about this says he does! I don't know tho because i really really really like this guy hes the first guy ive ever actually liked so i dont know what to do now :( Does he like me?!
EDIT: I also forgot to mention we hung out together at school on monday and he was fine with me grabbing his wrists and dragging him around :D ! We also walked past eachother yesterday and he was smiling really hard when he saw me and went "eww" as a joke because we do that to eachother and i just went "eww shut up" back while giggling

Am I the asshole, because I told my aunt that she was hysterical and conceited?! I, 16 Female, need some kind of special glasses to see at all, and these glasses happen to be damn expensive, not to mention that I have to travel at least 2 hours from my village, that they can make the glasses for me. I obviously have to wear these glasses all the time, and I also wore it on one of my cousins' birthday at my dad's side , where my mom's sister and her family were also invited on a friendly basis. The others were playing, and I did NOT join, because I should have taken off my glasses to play football, and I don't like playing football anyway. So I sat on the bench beside the field as a commentator, and my role was to say who had the ball, etc. When the others decided to take a break, my cousin, 11 Male, walked towards me, stopped about 1 meter from me, and threw the ball at my head with all of his strength. Let me not say that the glasses flew off my head like a bird, and, of course, shattered. When my dear cousin noticed what he done, he immediately started saving himself, saying that I didn't say well what was happening, and that's why he missed a goal. After I realized what had happened, I started yelling at him. He broke my glasses, which my parents bought for me barely a month ago, and he even wanted to make me look bad! Of course, my aunt, her mother, came over to see what is going on. I told her that her dear son threw a ball to my head, and she didn't believe me! The others who were playing soccer also intervened and said that everything happened as I said, because they saw it, and my aunt's reaction was to tell me not to be so hysterical, and he didn't throw the ball on purpose, it's just a pair of glasses anyway, and why am I upset now, I shouldn't have been playing wearing glasses. By this time, my tears were already flowing in streams, and in my anger I told her not to be so hysterical and conceited, and she should accept that it's her son's fault now. Of course, she got mad, and went to yell to my mother, that she could really raise me properly, because I can't behave. In short, my mother also had a fight because my aunt didn't want to give me a penny to get new glasses, and they left the birthday party in anger.
So, am I the asshole?

First of all English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes and the account is a throwaway.
I am reaching out for some advice on a difficult situation involving my big brother. background: My brother (52), met his ex-wife when he was 33, and she was 20, while they were both at university. He was a researcheteacher, and she was a student. They fell deeply in love and got married after three years of dating. They had two sons and one daughter during their marriage, and everything seemed perfect from the outside. My SIL then became a psychologist, and my brother continued his work as a professor at the university.
My brother adored his daughter, she was definitely his favorite. However, when my brother was 45 his happiness was shattered when my brother discovered that his daughter was not his own, and that his wife had been having an affair for four years with a younger man. This revelation devastated my brother, and his wife left with their daughter. Despite the fact that mothers often receive custody of the children in my country, my brother managed to obtain custody of his sons during the week and give up his right on his daughter that was adopted by SIL AP.
After the divorce was finalized, my brother 46 at this time spiraled into alcoholism as a way to cope with his sadness. Meanwhile, my ex-SIL and her AP moved to a new city and started a new family. My brother's drinking escalated, causing him to lose his job and damage his relationships with his sons. Eventually, my ex SIL regained primary custody of the children due to my brother's alcoholism and because he has been involved in altercations
Initially, people sympathized with my brother, but as his alcoholism worsened, sympathy turned to judgment. At first, my ex SIL was ostracized by her family and friends because of her affair with her AP, mainly due to their age difference but gradually, she regained her friends while my brother lost his, including my other brother who no longer speaks to him. Despite my family efforts to help him, we tried some intervention, suggest he go to see a therapist or rehab, but my brother remains isolated and consumed by his addiction.
I am heartbroken to see him in this state and feel helpless and angry because my ex SIL has managed to come back into the light. She has regained custody of her children, reconnected with her friends, had 2 more children with her AP and is living her life peacefully. It feels like her affair was just a minor mistake, while it's destroying my brother. My nephews no longer want to see their father, and it breaks my heart. I see posts on social media about her from friend or her family where she's having fun, laughing, invite to birthday... It's just not fair.
My parents are desperate with my brother, we don't know what to do anymore. I fear that we may lose my brother if things continue this way
TL;DR: My brother's life turned upside down when he discovered his daughter wasn't his and his wife had been having an affair. He spiraled into alcoholism, lost his job, and damaged his relationships with his sons. Meanwhile, his ex-wife moved on, regained custody of their children, and started a new family. Despite efforts to help him, he remains consumed by addiction. I fear we may lose him if things don't change.

Growing up I was a big fan of videogames, specifically shooters (battlefront, medal of honor, early 2000's stuff). However, nothing was as cool as the light-gun games from arcades. I never really got the chance to play in many arcades, so whenever I found one, I liked to pick the gun up and pretend I was playing (I was a child with no money, and my parents weren't terribly fond of videogames, so I never really got the chance to actually play a lot of them). Cabelas Big Game Hunter was pretty much the extent of the ones that I could play.
However, one of my earliest memories is of a specific game that managed to traumatize me for about a decade and a half.
One day my family went to a bowling alley for a birthday party. We bowled for a bit, but when we all finished we were just hanging out and celebrating. I noticed that there was an arcade corner and wandered over. One particular cabinet caught my eye: House of the Dead. The demo was playing, and I saw zombies limbs flying off from where you shot them, holes opening up in their chest from the bullets, and shooting thrown axes out of the sky. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, "its like you are actually shooting them!" I picked up the light-gun and started trying to match my aim to the demo, pretending I was actually playing. I was probably there for like 5 minutes, making the gun noises with my mouth and pretending I was the best cop in the world saving people from the undead.
In my hyperfixation, I failed to notice someone walk over behind me and wordlessly slip a couple quarters into the machine. The person was evidently a janitor, as they had a mop and bucket, and after they had put some change in the slot they just left without a word. I wasn't sure what happened but I did know that what they did meant that I could play the game for real!
I was really excited as I had never actually played the game before. It starts and I see the first two zombies start shambling toward me. I bring the gun up and start shooting at them, noticing that I only hit them like 2 times out of 7. "Well, this is harder than it looks." I keep shooting, but then the gun stops working. At this point the zombies are getting much closer. I keep pulling the trigger in vain as they shamble towards me. They reach me, and I can do nothing except watch as they raise their bloody axes and strike the screen, leaving a big, bloody slash mark. They attack a few more times, tearing my digital body to pieces, and eventually a big "game-over" washes over the screen.
I put the gun back in the holster as the "insert coin to continue" message flashes. I wide-eyed walk back to the rest of the family and eat some pizza.
It wasn't until years later did I realize how much of an impact this had on me. After that day, I was deathly afraid of zombies. Movies, games, books; if anything had zombies in it I got sick to my stomach and started shaking. My extended family got into COD zombies a few years after that, and hoo-boy did I not like that. I couldn't be in the same room as them if they were playing. It didn't even matter what type of zombie it was, whether the typical walking dead, or the fast vampire-like ones from I Am Legend, just the word zombie was enough to send me into a state.
It was never bad enough that my family really noticed, but I have since grown out of it.
It makes me laugh to think about how the kind gesture of a stranger putting a quarter into a little kids machine would instead lead to said child being traumatized for years. A trauma that could likely have been avoided if someone had told the little boy how to reload.

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

Hello and welcome to the greatest and most spectacular alliance community ever developed!
What's that? You say you haven't heard of us before? This is okay. It is natural for the hidden Ooken masters to appear when you need them most.
Our goals are simple:
· Play both WvW and sPVP in the most annoying, satisfying, gratifying manner possible
· Zero schedules because those cause intestinal cramping
· Show up when you can, contribute where you will and spread your Dookems wide
· Collaborate and elaborate on builds together...but only if they cause sadness
· Understand that the best games in life are played with spoons

Put up your Dookems revolves around one very important rule: Absolutely ZERO DOOKERS in here. None. Not gonna happen. We routinely each night go out of our way to Ook everyone right up their Dooker. We send invitations beforehand in order to make sure that everyone is invited to the thighmaster brigade.
Some of our most famous events include:

1. Which way are the Yaks REALLY going? Does anyone know?
2. I walk 5,000 range to deliver my messages of love to you
3. Portal? I hardly knew em!
4. Conquest of the Ruins that kinda look like that weird birthday cake we had in 2nd grade with the melted Elmo face. But dammit mom tried.
5. Dancing with no bearings letting our wheels fall off
6. Eruption of Mustache Wax

Alliances: Okay our game plan for this is to gather like minded people. Do you enjoy home BL defense? So DO WE. Do you enjoy outnumbered fights and grabbing whatever is close by to squeeze it repeatedly? SAME. This a group of friends, sons, fathers, some moms, a dance pavilion and a solid block of cheese.
If these and other PVP games like "who stole my enormous potato" appeal to you, check us out.
Fatherbliss.4701 – Lead Ooker
Alec.1430 – Head Designer of Fashion
Lorthrean.7418 – Master of all Pies
Shrouded zeen.1657 – He who Waits

First of all English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes and the account is a throwaway.
I am reaching out for some advice on a difficult situation involving my big brother. background: My brother (52), met his ex-wife when he was 33, and she was 20, while they were both at university. He was a researcheteacher, and she was a student. They fell deeply in love and got married after three years of dating. They had two sons and one daughter during their marriage, and everything seemed perfect from the outside. My SIL then became a psychologist, and my brother continued his work as a professor at the university.
My brother adored his daughter, she was definitely his favorite. However, when my brother was 45 his happiness was shattered when my brother discovered that his daughter was not his own, and that his wife had been having an affair for four years with a younger man. This revelation devastated my brother, and his wife left with their daughter. Despite the fact that mothers often receive custody of the children in my country, my brother managed to obtain custody of his sons during the week and give up his right on his daughter that was adopted by SIL AP.
After the divorce was finalized, my brother 46 at this time spiraled into alcoholism as a way to cope with his sadness. Meanwhile, my ex-SIL and her AP moved to a new city and started a new family. My brother's drinking escalated, causing him to lose his job and damage his relationships with his sons. Eventually, my ex SIL regained primary custody of the children due to my brother's alcoholism and because he has been involved in altercations
Initially, people sympathized with my brother, but as his alcoholism worsened, sympathy turned to judgment. At first, my ex SIL was ostracized by her family and friends because of her affair with her AP, mainly due to their age difference but gradually, she regained her friends while my brother lost his, including my other brother who no longer speaks to him. Despite my family efforts to help him, we tried some intervention, suggest he go to see a therapist or rehab, but my brother remains isolated and consumed by his addiction.
I am heartbroken to see him in this state and feel helpless and angry because my ex SIL has managed to come back into the light. She has regained custody of her children, reconnected with her friends, had 2 more children with her AP and is living her life peacefully. It feels like her affair was just a minor mistake, while it's destroying my brother. My nephews no longer want to see their father, and it breaks my heart. I see posts on social media about her from friend or her family where she's having fun, laughing, invite to birthday... It's just not fair.
My parents are desperate with my brother, we don't know what to do anymore. I fear that we may lose my brother if things continue this way
TL;DR: My brother's life turned upside down when he discovered his daughter wasn't his and his wife had been having an affair. He spiraled into alcoholism, lost his job, and damaged his relationships with his sons. Meanwhile, his ex-wife moved on, regained custody of their children, and started a new family. Despite efforts to help him, he remains consumed by addiction. I fear we may lose him if things don't change.