Time out london dating

My husband and I started dating during Covid. We are both gamers, and had met through my brother who is a long time friend of his. They met once before.
My attraction was his voice, his personality and eventually finding out he was very handsome didn’t hurt either. We connected right away and fell in love. A year and a bit of disappointment, the border finally opened and we met in person.
The chemistry has been undeniably strong. He fell hard and so did I. I began to get excited at the idea of marrying him. Starting a life together. The works!
I visited him afterwards and met his family. He lives at home as he’s saving money and helps his mom a lot around the house and overall. She’s older (65+) and needs help a lot. She’s energetic and light hearted but also has a wicked streak.
I never anticipated this. When I met she was super sweet. It was his sister that gave me a hard time at first, which was difficult but I persevered regardless. His mother started as supportive, but as soon as I started discussing future plans, everything began to change.
Suddenly I was rushing things, my husband, life , etc. I was 25 when we dated and he was 23. We were younger but not THAT young. We both eagerly discussed marriage since week 2 of dating. We dated a year and a bit when I first met his family.
Every conversation with his sister or mom during the first year or two of dating revolved around my lack of education. They’re a degree family (teachers at a elementary school and pre-K) and looked down on me because I didn’t have one, so I decided to open up about my trauma and childhood to help them understand why I’m where I’m at in life, and that it’s actually way better than I could ever imagine.
I have my own place. I make good money at a corporate job I’ve been at for several years, and I travel frequently. I have a full life of friends and family of my own. I don’t talk to my mom because she was physically abusive until I was 17 and worse. His mom knows this.
I explained that we need a marriage based visa approval before I can legally move to his country (USA) from mine (Canada). Student visa is pricey and not ideal for future plans. I went through the process and it all over 20 times in length. Trying to get everyone to understand it was the best option to get married. They fought it HARD. I cried so much, so many times.
I had no idea why they were soiling on our goals and on me. My husband was so excited to get married, he knew what we needed to do. They actively tried to convince him not to do it but then helped him plan my engagement decorations and cake. His sister was annoyed by this, since it was hard to watch her younger brother grow up and as her own marriage was rocky at the time.
After we got married his mom started making comments only to me about how we have to “wait and see how it all goes after a year” implying we wouldn’t last that long. She constantly says stuff like this. Especially when we’re alone in the kitchen having what I thought was an open conversation.
She’s accused me of marrying him for a green card, of trying to rush our marriage to have babies, and trap him.
I have explained countless times my plan and our plan to wait for kids. Yes I’m older than him but we have goals before kids come that we want to achieve. Pair her general comments with her mean remarks whenever we mention future kids, and I just see someone trying to tear me down.
The worst thing she said is that she thinks if I got pregnant and my relationship with him fails, that I’ll “take the baby to Canada”. And that if things don’t work out before kids, I’ll be alone out here. Yeah.
Despite all this, I have always helped her and been nice. Even too nice.
Today was the straw that broke my camels proverbial back. I had helped her while she was really sick with what we found out to be COVID, for 2 weeks while I am visiting my husband before we fly away for our 1 year Anniversary trip. I made her home made soup, I cleaned her house, I checked on her. I made a custom recipe book for my Mother’s Day gift to her. I got her whole family to sign it after.
We haven’t celebrated due to her being sick. We were supposed today. My husband and I came back from a day out and she starts ranting about our sex life to him, and I am overhearing this from his room. She was talking about it in the open dining room randomly.
I had a private talk with her when she was at the end of her sickness, as my husband and I had some tense talks and I wanted to get insight. I had mentioned in passing that my iud strings were cut during a precancer cell removal surgery. That I was being careful but still worry for us sometimes, but that I’m taking precautions.
She didn’t say much besides “ oh that’s good! I’m glad to hear that”. Then she brings it up today, 4 days later. In front of my husband who in already discussed this with. She’s lying and saying I sounded unsure and scared, that we’re being careless and that she’s praying we don’t get pregnant. She tells him he should take mint pills, get a temporary vasectomy, and that I should get checked / scanned. That she doesn’t know if we’re compatible if we have tense talks lately and we may find out after living together FT. She said she wishes she could twist his balls, that she had a nightmare I got pregnant and “someone got hurt” but didn’t elaborate so as not to “call it into existence “ We’re just standing there stunned. She plays it off like she cares, but she’s just being so negative.
I levelled with her, assuring her I would take precautions once again. That her concern is real. Well shortly after we went to his room feeling good about hearing her out while talking. But then I hear his mom gossiping to his older sister. She barely looked at me after when I walked in. She was noticeably cold to me.
His mom was syrupy sweet to me. Saying we (her son and i) should go on a walk to enjoy the sunnny day! I cried the whole time asking him why she’s so mean, why she can’t trust us to be adults.
I cried so hard I skipped lunch and dinner, I had an anxiety attack. I couldn’t breathe, I’m disbelief at what I saw and heard today. It’s like nothing I did in the past 4 years and 1 year of marriage almost, mattered to her or made any impact.
My husband went up and talked to her, for a long time. He came down and spoke on her behalf, detailing how concerned she was for me and my health “stuff” and that it holds heavy on her heart. She doesn’t want us to go through worse (baby is worse?) and wanted to get her point across. That she loves me and accepts me as her own.
Well after I stopped sobbing, I texted her saying I was sorry for today and why stress I caused her with my words.
She texts back giving me shit for not “coming to her directly” as she felt it was important i hear what she said to her son too. That if she didn’t care she wouldn’t bring it up to us. That we will figure it out as we’re adults. Night night with heart emoji.
I texted back a big paragraph (like this post) reminding her that she wasn’t direct with me as she was talking to my husband about making sure I was on birth control, insinuating I’m lying about my IUD being effective. If I didn’t walk in the chat never would have happened. That she can’t expect me to come upstairs and hash it out if I’m so upset I can’t stop crying. That it’s unfair to put that on me after i was the bigger person and apologized to her tonight. She never said sorry to me directly.
My poor husband is in the middle, especially as he’s the youngest (27). I told him it’s time to move out and detach from the emotionally toxic relationship with his mom. He agrees.
He’s tried to leave a few times but she guilts him into staying. Today was the first day he saw her true colours towards me, he hated it!
Any support is appreciated and advice is valued!
TLDR; MIL chastised us about our private issues like sex

I 22F and my bf 25M are currently on a break for the week. I’m doing my uni finals at the moment, and I have been a bit stressed. I noticed my bf wasn’t really talking to me the way he normally would and I asked him what’s up. He sent me a really long text detailing now he thinks we are never on the same page (1), he keeps thinking about how I read his diary (2), I called him my ex’s name by acccident (3), and he is stressed because I am frustrated about my exams (4). I’ll detail these more now.

1. He wants kids. I met him online and told him in my profile I was strictly against kids. Recently, I have come around about that, but I am still unsure. I’m not against them but I have explained I would need to do what I want and live my life a bit and have a house and job before I could decide that. I am also a child of divorce and saw how that really affected my mum, and I explained to him how that also put me on the fence. He said he doesn’t want to be with someone for years and it feel like a “waste” if it doesn’t work out kids wise and he doesn’t wanna start dating in his 30s. Another thing is travel. I had told him I would perhaps like to travel after uni, but I am forgoing that. I said it would be nice to go away on holiday like his other friend couples do maybe once a year, but he thought that I was insinuating we MUST go this year. I explained that I wasn’t expecting him to, because he wants to save for a house (rent), and he can’t get any hols anyway. He was really silent after that as if we had “argued” and in his eyes that was an argument he brought up this week. I didn’t raise my voice at him or argue, rather said that wasn’t what I meant and explained further.
   
2. This one is bad, I know. I was in a really bad place mentally, and I thought that something was wrong with him since he sometimes suffered from anxiety and dealing with the future. I had only read the last entry he put in and immediately after I read it I told him as I felt so guilty betraying him. I’ve apologised profusely and I’ve been going to counselling to help my own anxiety and depression. I wanna note that I’m not like that around him, it’s mainly when I’m by myself so he doesn’t really see that side of me. In the moment I was genuinely worried for him. I know it still makes what I did bad.
   
3. This one really tears me up every day. We were playing around, and instead of saying his name in a playful annoyed way I said my exes. He immediately shut down and wouldn’t talk to me or hear me out. In fact, he kicked me out of his house. I get that what I said was not nice to hear, and upon talking to my counsellor she said it was a common thing to do, and doesn’t mean I was thinking about my ex. I wanna say that I DO NOT think about them and have blocked and deleted them from my life. In doing that however, I did begin to spend more time with my gay bestie who happens to have the same name as my ex and I happened to talk to on that day. I really believe it was a mistake and I thought he was trying to move past it but he keeps bringing it up.
   
4. He doesn’t like to be around me when I’m stressed. When I’m frustrated, I’m not angry at him or raise my voice at him or be passive aggressive, it’s more so internalised at myself. He was offering me advice this year and feels like because I didn’t stick to a schedule to complete my uni tasks, I was ignoring him. I work last minute, it’s how I have always worked and I get great result. Not to mention, in his final uni year he was the same as me. I dont really get this argument to be honest.
   

I also wanna note that he told me he wasn’t sure if this is the “real” me or if I was on my best behaviour at the start of the relationship. Everything was great at the start, but in my first week of uni my grandmother does, I then had to have surgery 2 months later to remove breast tumours (non cancerous), and I guess that and uni stress really caught up with me. He saw that I was doing better by going to the gym and feeling better about myself, but said that I snap back at times and don’t like myself. I think this is normal as some people have off days but I think he’s annoyed by it.
Also, at the start of our relationship he was really anxious about us, and I helped him through it. He was also stressed about jobs, and I had helped him prep and make a new cv as I’m good at that stuff and he got job offers. In fact at one point he said to me that he thought I was with him for money. I had more in savings than him at that point and paid for things/went 50/50. I am also lined up for a higher earning job than him when I’m out of uni. So, I guess I’m asking what should I do about this? I genuinely love him but my parents have said he’s not treating me nicely, and my friends have said the only thing that I have done wrong is read his diary.

Hello all, so the HSC board results are just round the corner and entrance exam results are also in line, I thought I'll jot down some words and mistakes which I did which may help you in living your college life to the fullest and at the same time focus on all round development!
(a) Make friends and spend good time with them:-
Nobody will remember your 6-10 LPA good packages and all that stuff. What people remember is the good time you've spent together, friendly banters and much more. Go places and explore the world. I made good contacts but was not able to spend good time with my friends due to the unnecessary academic pressure by my parents. They never allowed me to get out of my house. Thus, today nobody even checks on me lol. So friends and connections are very very important.
(b) Participate in maximum activities:-
Participate in each and every club you can! Do what you love! Focus on all round development. Believe me college is the best time for these things. Again due to the fuckery of my parents, I was not able to participate in these things. They believe it's just waste of time which is absolutely wrong! Don't be like me, go and participate even if you don't know shit about it.
(c) Be in good books of teachers:-
I followed this blindly. Trust me this will help in getting your internals and externals sorted even if you aren't good at studies. Ask them doubts, greet them whenever you meet. You'd be pretty much sorted. (Though you may study and upskill from Youtube :) )
(d) If you like someone, confess asap:-
Its better to get rejected than to regret. I had one crush in my college. She was from another department. We used to talk only formally like occasional greetings, festival wishes, etc. I tried very hard just to talk to her even if its only two sentences on messages. Later on I realised that I was too late. She was already in relationship with someone else. Anyways, it was a good learning experience for me. She'll be my secret crush forever if I don't get into these relationship and related stuff.
(e) You are NOT always wrong:-
Learn to defend yourself to the fullest if you believe you are absolutely right. Whether the person in front of you is anyone - your parents, friends, partner, etc. Till this date my parents curse me for no reason, like I earn decently, worked hard in my academics and secured good grades, still I face mockery. Everyday I beg for some freedom of which I am deprived of. I see people on Snapchat enjoying their lives, wandering all over the world and here I am sitting envious of them. Don't be over-submissive like me. It's your life, live it to the fullest.

Hi y'all, I'm 21F and been dating my boyfriend (19M) for 9 months now. I would really like your advice on how to not spiral every single time I get triggered. We've had a lot of near break ups, the worst one being a few days ago. He is at his limit with me and I am terrified of losing him.
I'm in DBT therapy, taking meds and all, but still I find myself totally flipping out over the smallest things. How do you prevent it from escalating? (For example, I'll get ridiculously angry, he'll seem annoyed/disappointed because he knows it's happening again, I'll tell myself "he's never going to understand me", "this is it, he's gonna break up with me") Like even when I realize I'm having an episode, I'll just panic even worse because I start to feel like I will never get better and this relationship is doomed.
Any advice would be appreciated. I'm scared to death of losing him because of my BPD. Thank you :)

I'm a 33 year old guy, working as a freelancer making 30 LPA.
After being in a few relationships up until my late twenties, I've been single for a while now. Ever since I started to freelance and work from home, my social circles dried up and I don't meet single women anymore.
I'm trying my luck on dating apps and matrimony sites, but it has been brutal out there. I get a rare match or two on dating apps and none at all on matrimony sites.
The girls I met on dating apps didn't want the same things as I do (like I want children and I don't smoke). I'm assuming girls on matrimony sites might have the same wavelength as me.
But, I get zero interest. I can't ascertain why I'm having such a hard time with arranged marriage. I can think of two reasons

1. Some girl parents have straight up told me they are not interested in a freelancer and are looking for a software professional. I have a hard time convincing people that my income is stable and I'm in fact "well settled". I understand where they are coming from, but I am hopeful girls won't be as risk-averse as their parents.
   
2. I'm 5'8 with a dad bod. But, I have always been this way. I haven't changed much physically from my mid and late twenties, and it didn't stop me from getting into relationships back then. I did meet my exes in-person and not online.
   

I don't get to the talking stage with most girls and I'm getting rejected entirely based on how I look on paper.
I want to hear from the women here. Do you view freelancing as an unconventional and unreliable income source? If you see a chunky guy's profile, do you immediately skip over it or do you consider it? Be brutally honest.

I (25M) matched with a girl (24F) on hinge. We were texting each other once every day or so for just over a week then organised to go on a date. The date went great - she did mention that she has accounting exams coming up soon with her job so she was going to be busy the next couple of months. But we both had a great time and I had no doubts we wanted to see eachother again after the date - she even gave me her umbrella to take home as it was raining and she got a taxi home.
We continued texting once a day - finding out more in common and I mentioned that I’m a fan of Mexican food and she said she is too and she said that could be our next date idea. She then asked when I was free and I booked a restaurant (2 weeks after the first date as she was busy due to a family wedding the weekend after the first date). She also mentioned that as it’s September now, it’s go time in terms of revision.
We met up at the restaurant and the date went fine, again no doubts and lots in common. She mentioned that due to a health condition she doesn’t like to drink alcohol when it’s super hot so she ordered a mocktail instead with her food.
We then went to a rooftop bar afterwards which I’d booked as the weather was really warm. When we got to the rooftop, the girl said it feels hotter up here than it does downstairs (which it did) and she asked me to push a button on my side of the table (I think she assumed it may have been connected to a fan). But when I pushed the button the outdoor heaters turned on which was quite embarrassing and the people in the bar started laughing. I laughed too but it did throw me off and make me feel awkward. The girl did apologise to me and them and was laughing too.
But we sat down and continued chatting - I felt the conversation wasn’t flowing as well due to the awkwardness but there were no awkward silences. I ordered a cocktail but the menu was a little limited for mocktails - I did ask her if she wanted to go somewhere else but she said don’t worry it’s ok. She ended up just having water.
Once i finished my drink, she said she’s going to head off so we walked to the train station together - we didn’t stay at the rooftop for very long. I was still feeling awkward as the last part of the date didn’t go how I’d hoped but I asked if she wanted to go out again and she said yeah definitely so I gave her a quick kiss and said bye.
I messaged her on instagram while I was on my way home and just gave her my phone number and said let me know when you’re home.
She texted me that evening and said ‘hey thanks for dinner tonight - honestly next time you have to let me get the bill! It was v good to see you again. Hope you got home okay x’.
I replied that Thursday evening and said ‘hey no worries it’s all good, but you’re organising the next one’. She then reacted to that message with a little heart on Saturday and said ‘how’s your Saturday been, sorry for the late reply been super busy my sister is visiting😂’ - she did mention that her sister was visiting before we went on the second date. I replied on the Sunday with general convo. She replied on the Monday as usual, being communicative, telling me about her weekend and all the things she did and also asking me more about what I was doing. She also said ‘so not a productive weekend in terms of revision😭’
I replied on the Tuesday, making general conversation again. I didn’t hear back from her on Wednesday, Thursday (which was when I started to get anxious) or Friday. I assumed she had a busy week with work and revision so I’d hear back Friday evening. I also noticed that at some point after the second date she changed one of her prompts on her hinge dating profile - a small change from ‘give me travel tips to Thailand’ to ‘give me travel tips to Miami’. She didn’t update any pictures or anything else and as we’d only been out twice I’m guessing this is normal? She also mentioned on the second date that she’d booked her Miami holiday.
I still didn’t hear back from her and then made a massive mistake Saturday morning and sent her another message which said ‘if you weren’t interested why not just say. You’re a bit of an arsehole to say you wanna go out again, pay and all that then just ignore me’. She responded an hour and a half later and said ‘I wasn’t trying to ignore you - I was genuinely busy this week. But you calling me an arsehole is so uncalled for and tbh I don’t want to see someone who’s going to call me names so I’d rather just call it a day’. I called to try and apologise but she didn’t pick up so I messaged ‘I get you’re busy with exams. Like I fully understand that but it takes 2 seconds to say hey I’m busy right now I’ll get back to you. Tbh it comes across like you’re not interested and a bit rude. So I’m sorry I called you an arsehole but I called you as I wanted to chat to you quickly’. She replied and said ‘sorry missed your call - I’m out. Yeah fairs I get that but the exams are my priority. I feel like I’ve said what I need to say and think it’s just best if we leave it here’. I messaged again trying to sort it out but she didn’t reply. I gave it three weeks and apologised more sincerely and she said it’s all good no hard feelings but she’s got a lot on right now so she doesn’t think it would be best to give it a second chance. I said if it’s the exams I don’t mind if you wanna speak again after they’re all done, but she didn’t reply to that message.
I reached out again after a couple months as I saw her on the same dating app and her profile was updated with new pictures and she said she just doesn’t see this going anywhere and good luck with everything - she then blocked me. I’m assuming she was finished with her exams by this point.
I fully understand that I was completely in the wrong with the way I reacted and I’ve learnt the lesson and won’t ever speak to anyone like that again - I regret it so much because I could see myself liking her and she honestly seemed like the most perfect girl, although we only went on 2 dates and spoke for a month. But do you think it was me calling her an arsehole that caused her to end it (completely valid if so) or if she just wasn’t feeling it before this and I gave her an easy way out?

Previous diary entry here: https://www.reddit.com/buffy/comments/1cuyf6k/rewatchers_diary_season_2_episodes_15_to_18/
The last sprint to the finish line: I Only Have Eyes for You (2x19), Go Fish (2x20), Becoming (2x21-2x22).
Man, I Only Have Eyes for You is such a beautiful gem of a composition. Go Fish is less bad than I remembered it (but still bottom-tier), Becoming FUCK YEAH!
I Only Have Eyes for You
It's the Sadie Hawkins dance and the gender roles are reversed—on BTVS, of all places ;-)
Xander suggests it's the brain child of a hairy-legged feminist and Cordelia is upset not only at losing her privilege of having her date pay for the date but also at having the tables turned all the way around and having to be the one who has to pay. Man I love the anti-chemistry of Xandelia.
But all is not well: Sunnydale high is haunted by the ghost of a student (James), whose romance with a teacher (Grace) was broken off by her. He responded with a murder-suicide which he is now reenacting. This is the mystery of the week.
The emotional significance is that Buffy identifies with James: she feels she betrayed and murdered Angel, unleashing Angelus. Her inability to kill Angelus in Innocence led to Jenny's death in Passion, which Buffy feels guilt about.
The punchline is Buffy and Angel(us) reenacting the ghost story, with Buffy in James' shoes, Angel surviving Buffy's murder attempt and preventing Buffy-as-James' suicide. Grace forgives James and says she never stopped loving him, the ghosts depart, Angel is back in his Angelus form who runs off.
Also, the final reveal: Spike, driven more crazy by Angelus, has been overstating his incapacitation.
I frigging love this episode.
I think Buffy's big change is her acceptance that Angel is dead, and that a demon (Angelus) has taken up shop in his body. It walks and it talks like Angel but it's no longer him. This has to be it, because the ghostly reenactment basically says that the Bangel love is forever and is still there even if Angel isn't—and yet, Buffy is more resolved and determined to kill Angelus than ever. This only makes sense if she's distinguishing between the two, i.e. if she's accepting that the man she used to love is gone.
The ghost story is beautifully tragic. The resolution, Grace's forgiveness and the departure of the ghosts, is such a heart-warming relief. And Buffy sorting out her feelings is wonderfully bittersweet.
Giles being distraught by the loss of Jenny, to the point of him not thinking straight, is heartbreaking. Metaphorically Giles is Buffy's mind, making it very fitting that Buffy's resolution is about sorting out her understanding of the Angel/Angelus distinction.
I noticed a thing: during the triangular binding spell we have Buffy at the center of the action, with Willow, Xander and Giles Cordelia supporting her, a motif replayed in Primeval (4x21).
If we understood the metaphor in Teacher's Pet (1x4) we learned that student-teacher romance means the teacher is preying on the student. Here it was... well preying is the wrong word, but here it was the student harming the teacher. I feel this might dilute the message of Teacher's Pet; this episode could've been a bit more on-brand with a line or two with the message that it's not uncommon or shameful for teens to have feelings for 20-somethings—but, if reciprocated, it's inappropriate for the older person to act on those feelings. The tie-in between James/Grace and Buffy/Angel would be perfect, the social commentary would be more to my liking, and I think the social commentary I want is on-point for BTVS. Heck, if you peel of the big S2 metaphor, I see a 16yo girl crushing on a ~26yo red flag, with disastrous consequences. The social commentary I'm calling for is the whole bloody point of S2, so why not reinforce it here? Maybe it would dilute the "awww" when Grace forgives James, like, we're meant to feel it's a sweet couple and they should get each other and that has to be an undiluted high note.
Nitpicking aside, what a gem!
Go Fish
I asked the writers for a good episode, but they said "go fish". Oh well, I guess there's plenty of fish in the sea. Let's plunge in and take a deep dive.
I remembered this as "that one really awfully disappointing episode of Buffy". This time, I found it to be merely "meh". There were a few decent comedy bits: "undercover" // "not under much" and "I'm dating a guy on the Sunnydale High swim team" // "you can die happy" #OohBurn look at the shallow Spordelia Cordelia.
There was a gender role reversal—on BTVS of all places—when Buffy walks Swimmer #2 home from The Bronze (for his protection) after he was attacked.
But on the whole... see, I kinda' enjoyed the early S2 MotW episodes, back when MotW was pretty much all that BTVS was. But now that I have tasted the Bangelus arc (again, this being a rewatch), I have lost my taste for MotWs—at least if they have no tie-in to the bigger picture. This is an episode I simply have no taste for, it doesn't excite me.
[I consider Phases (2x15) and BBB (2x16) MotW episodes with strong thematic tie-ins to the Bangelus arc: all the scoobies are dating monsters. And arguably, Passion (2x17) is about Jenny making risky dating choices, a follow-up on The Dark Age (2x8), making 2x14-2x17 a thematically cohesive run of episodes.]
Becoming
Fuck. Yeah.
Joss is such a scumbag. First he gives Buffy this great resolve and determination (perhaps after some feelings of resignation) in I Only Have Eyes for You, then he makes her waver a bit when she discovers Jenny's re-ensoulment spell. And then she gets Angel back, but it's too late since Angelus already pulled the pin on the doomsday vortex grenade, so she has to let go of him AGAIN! :(
Spike is chaotic and funny. You can always count on his loyalty, at least if you're the highest bidder, and Buffy effectively offered him his big ho girlfriend back. He's such a fool for love, wink-wink nudge-nudge.
I noticed a parallel between the trio of vampires and the trio of nerds: Angelus/Warren is the evil sociopathic leader of the group, Drusilla/Andrew has a crush on the leader and Spike/Jonathan betrays the group and sides with Buffy and the scoobies. [But also differences, of course: SpikeSilla are not as weak-willed as Andrew/Jonathan, for one. And the trio of vampires is charming.]
... and Xander brings Willow back by talking about their friendship and telling her he loves her!
Angelus talked about ascending—retro-echoing the mayor's plot in Graduation Day 2 (3x22).
Also: Angelus tried to pull a sword out of a stone (Acathla). We just went from gothic horror to Arthurian legend? Spike's reaction, "someone wasn't worthy", indicates that Angelus is a false king, not worthy of the throne of Sunnydale. He's not the real mayor so he won't ascend: while he eventually manages to pull the sword out of the stone, his ultimate fate is a downfall—he descends into a hell dimension.
The scoobies have a disagreement in the library about how to deal with Angel(us). I find it notable that it's Xander, Buffy's metaphorical heart, who responds to "I'll stop him" with "like you did last time, with Ms. Calendar"—Buffy is still feeling guilty about not having the heart guts to kill Angelus in Innocence. It's Xander who knows the location of Angelus' mansion, i.e. it's her heart which leads her to lost lover, and it's her heart which says "kick his ass". When he rescues Buffy's metaphorical mind, he (Giles) says "why would they make me see you", i.e. Buffy's mind doesn't want what's in her heart, they are conflicted. Buffy is driven by her feelings and passions now just as much as she was in Surprise when she unleashed Angelus. Once her metaphorical mind has been rescued it saves the day: she gives her regained love one last kiss and one last goodbye, then, letting cooler heads prevail, kicks his ass stabs him in the heart, breaking it, to save the day.
And some greatest hits: "nobody asks for their life to change, not really" ;; "what's left?" // "me" ;; "you hit me one time with an axe" ;; "have you tried not being the slayer?" ;; "you're expelled".
Becoming is peak Buffy.

The old family home stood at the edge of town, its once grand facade now weathered and worn by time. The town's whispers about the house had reached my ears many times throughout my childhood, but I had never given them much thought. Now, standing before the creaking gate that led to the overgrown path, I felt an inexplicable urge to discover the truth.
I had inherited the house after my great-uncle Nathaniel passed away, a man I barely knew but whose presence seemed to linger in every corner. The dusty heirlooms and musty bookshelves hinted at a long and storied history. It was a history I intended to uncover.
The first few days were uneventful. I spent my time clearing out cobwebs and sorting through old papers, most of which were mundane—bills, letters, old photographs. But then, tucked away in a hidden compartment of Nathaniel's desk, I found a bundle of letters tied with a faded red ribbon. The letters were old, the paper yellowed and brittle. They were addressed to my great-grandmother, Beatrice, from someone named Arthur.
The letters spoke of forbidden love, betrayal, and a pact made in desperation. Arthur's words grew increasingly frantic as he described a dark secret shared by the family—a secret that, if revealed, would bring ruin upon them all. My curiosity piqued, I read on, unable to tear myself away.
One letter in particular stood out. Dated December 3, 1923, it detailed a horrific event: a fire that had claimed the lives of several townspeople. Arthur confessed to starting the fire, claiming it was necessary to protect the family from something far worse. He mentioned a cult, dark rituals, and a promise made to an entity he referred to only as "the Shadow."
The more I read, the more I felt an unsettling presence in the house. Shadows seemed to move on their own, and whispers echoed through the halls at night. Determined to understand, I ventured into the basement, where Nathaniel's journals hinted at more hidden secrets.
The basement was damp and cold, the air thick with mildew. Shelves lined with jars of strange substances and dusty books filled the room. At the far end, behind an old trunk, I found a small door. It creaked open to reveal a narrow staircase leading further down into darkness.
With a flashlight in hand, I descended, my heart pounding in my chest. The air grew colder with each step, and a sense of dread settled over me. At the bottom, I found a chamber filled with symbols carved into the stone walls. In the center was an altar, stained with what I could only hope was old wax.
As I examined the room, I found more letters, these from Nathaniel to someone named Margaret. They described rituals performed to keep the Shadow at bay, sacrifices made to ensure the family's prosperity. Nathaniel's last entry was a chilling plea for forgiveness, confessing that he had failed to uphold the pact and that the Shadow was coming for him.
Suddenly, the flashlight flickered and went out. Panic set in as I fumbled to turn it back on. When the light returned, I saw them—figures standing in the shadows, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They whispered in unison, a low chant that sent shivers down my spine.
"Blood of the betrayer," they intoned. "Blood of the guilty."
I tried to run, but my legs felt like lead. The figures closed in, their hands cold as ice as they grabbed me. I struggled, but it was no use. They dragged me to the altar, their chanting growing louder.
As they forced me down, I realized the truth: my family had been protecting a dark secret for generations, a secret that had now claimed me. The last thing I saw was a figure stepping out of the shadows, its eyes filled with malevolent glee.
The pain was sudden and all-consuming. My scream echoed through the chamber, blending with the chants. And then, there was nothing but darkness.
The house stood silent once more, its secrets buried deep within its walls. The townspeople still whispered about the old family home, but no one dared to venture inside. They said the shadows moved on their own, and at night, if you listened closely, you could still hear the whispers of the past.
Years passed, and the house remained untouched, a dark mark on the edge of town. Then, one evening, a young couple, unaware of the house’s history, moved in. They had bought the property cheaply, charmed by its antique allure.
Their first night in the house was uneventful. They laughed, unpacked, and made plans to renovate. But as the clock struck midnight, the atmosphere changed. The house seemed to come alive with a malevolent energy. The husband, Peter, heard a faint whispering. At first, he dismissed it as the wind, but the whispers grew louder, forming words.
"Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."
He followed the sound to the basement, where the narrow door stood ajar. Against his better judgment, he descended the stairs. The flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The chamber at the bottom was as I had left it, but now there was something new—a fresh inscription on the altar: "He who seeks shall find."
Peter turned to leave, but the shadows moved. Figures emerged, their eyes glowing with the same unnatural light. He screamed for help, but the basement door slammed shut, trapping him inside.
Upstairs, his wife, Emily, heard his screams and rushed to the basement door, but it wouldn't budge. She pounded on it, calling his name, but the house seemed to swallow her cries. Desperation set in, and she ran to the phone, dialing the police.
The police arrived quickly, but as they approached the house, they felt an unnatural chill. Inside, they found Emily, frantic and pale. She led them to the basement, but when they opened the door, the chamber was empty. There was no sign of Peter.
Days turned into weeks, and Peter was never found. Emily moved out, leaving the house abandoned once more. The townspeople spoke of the curse, of the family’s dark past, and warned newcomers to stay away.
But the house never stayed empty for long. Curiosity drew people in, and one by one, they disappeared, claimed by the shadows. The whispers continued, a never-ending chant of betrayal and guilt.
One stormy night, a group of ghost hunters arrived, eager to uncover the house's secrets. They set up their equipment, cameras rolling, as they ventured into the basement. The air was thick with tension, the shadows seemed to watch, waiting.
As they explored the chamber, the leader of the group, Sam, found the old letters. He read them aloud, his voice trembling. The whispers grew louder, the shadows closing in.
"Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."
The cameras captured everything—the figures emerging from the darkness, the screams, the terror. But when the footage was reviewed, all that was visible was the empty basement, silent and still. The hunters were never seen again.
Years passed, and the house remained a dark legend. No one dared to enter, the whispers and shadows a constant warning. And yet, on moonless nights, the townspeople could see faint lights flickering in the windows, hear the faint whispers carried on the wind.
It was said that the house was a gateway, a place where the past and present intertwined, where the sins of the ancestors demanded atonement. Those who entered were lost, their souls trapped in a never-ending cycle of horror.
Then, one day, a young historian named James arrived in town. He was fascinated by the stories and determined to uncover the truth. Despite the warnings, he entered the house, armed with his knowledge and a sense of purpose.
He found the letters, the journals, the hidden chamber. But as he delved deeper, he uncovered something no one had seen before—a final letter from Nathaniel, hidden behind a loose brick. It spoke of a ritual to break the curse, to free the trapped souls.
With renewed hope, James prepared for the ritual, following the instructions meticulously. As he began, the house seemed to tremble, the shadows stirring violently. The whispers grew to a deafening roar, but he pressed on.
The final step required a sacrifice, a willing soul to take the place of the cursed. As James completed the ritual, he felt a searing pain. The shadows enveloped him, but he continued to chant the final words.
Suddenly, the whispers stopped. The shadows receded, and the house fell silent. The townspeople, watching from a distance, saw the lights go out and heard a final, blood-curdling scream.
The next morning, they found the house empty. The letters and journals were gone, the chamber sealed. James was never seen again, but the curse seemed to have lifted. The house stood silent, no longer a source of fear.
Years later, the house was sold and renovated. Families moved in and out, but the dark history remained a distant memory. The whispers and shadows were gone, but on stormy nights, the faint echoes of the past could still be heard, a reminder of the darkness that once lurked within.
And so, the legend of the old family home became a story told to children, a cautionary tale of curiosity and the consequences of uncovering secrets best left buried. But some say that on the darkest nights, if you listen closely, you can still hear the faint whisper: "Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."

i'm in my long-term relationship #10, and really want this one to work out finally. it's always the same scenario: once the honeymoon stage is over and the feelings of oblivious euphoria fizzle out, i suddenly see my partner's imperfections and can't unsee them.
5 months ago i met someone seemingly extremely compatible and we hit it off right away. we have a matching lifestyle, we both love nature, hiking, running, yoga, meditation, we are both obsessed with health, both hobby artists.
my boyfriend is extremely loving/nurturing, caring, affectionate, he would do anything to make me happy. i'm not like this, but learned to use his preferred love languages. he's practical, capable, can do things i could never: fix things with his hands, make a fire or drive. on a deserted island i'd die unless GPT-4o would give me instructions. he is also way less career-oriented than me, keeps on taking unqualified job positions (earns well though), says he wants to focus on his art no matter if he succeeds or not. i am more ambitious and need a lot of financial security. he is a lot less fact-based than me, more intuitive and spiritual.
in the first few months, it was so easy to date him, we just got along seamlessly. but then with time as we dove deeper into certain topics i was stunned to find out we are after all two different people coming from different backgrounds. i know that no relationship is perfect and there is no such thing as a 100% match, and i'm aware our match is still pretty good. but i just feel so disheartened by discovering our differences, i don't even feel like i have emotions for him anymore. i don't know how to move on from here.
how can i focus on the positives? has anyone on this sub been able to overcome this and has any tips for me?

We live in small village and no lights on our street at night. All surrounding houses are gated and very dark. We rarely see our neighbours. Even worse, we have no lights at the car porch and front door because we can’t be ass to replace them.
Last night my boyfriend went out in London and never said he would come home.
I was really scared to sleep as I kept hearing all the weird noises in the loft and imaginary world, i tried to sleep but I could not concentrate and I had to put a bag in front of the door so it obstructed the door if anyone wanted to come in. I ran out to the car at 3am (grabbed my blanket and my favourite sleeping toy) to drive to the nearest service and slept in my car. I managed to have a few hours of sleep until the sun rise then I returned home.
This occurs every-time I had to sleep in the house overnight alone. And he knows I’m not feeling well this week yet he still went out and not telling me if he was coming home same night or not.
We are about to buy a house together and I really don’t think this would be an idea for us since he likes going out and I’m more of an introvert who likes to stay in and chill.
We are not married, just a couple who’s been together for almost 4 years. I first said, I wanted my own place because it’s just more convenient when we split (which Ive been saying all the time) but I kept changing my mind because I think it would be nice to own a big house together but then again, what if I hated the idea after we bought the house and he’ll keep going out as it’s near London and it would feel more lonely and frightened at home.

So as of recent game updates and into the light content, I have been looking at it with curiosity as it's featured quite often and all we've had of it was concept arts and attacks. So I cannot help but want to share my view on what I think it's inspired from.
First I want to address the disciples' root burst and tech packs as I don't think it's really tree roots so much as something akin to dendrites or filaments that burst out from damage as I feel it's like how Eramis "died" at the end of beyond light's campaign where darkness surges out and basically consumes or encases it's wielder.
Now then I would like to say that I think the black fleet was built purely paracausally as it fits the structures and general rendition.
As for what I think it is in nature I'd say blackbody radiation, gravity, and fractal geometry with the obvious connection of quantum physics.
Now where does rhulk's line on universal strings lie even though it clearly isn't addressing Strand? I'd put it within the Cosmic Web and Energy Filaments wheelhouse.
Now as defined In cosmology, galaxy filaments are the largest known structures in the universe, consisting of walls of galactic superclusters. These massive, thread-like formations can commonly reach 50/h to 80/h Megaparsecs (160 to 260 megalight-years)—with the largest found to date being the Hercules-Corona Borealis Great Wall at around 3 gigaparsecs (9.8 Gly) in length—and form the boundaries between voids. Due to the accelerating expansion of the universe, the individual clusters of gravitationally bound galaxies are what make up galaxy filaments
Now as to where that establishes rhulk's clone, umbral suffocation, and the taken's blighting by sterile neutrinos I wouldn't know.
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I am open to discussion and further points on the topic and find great inspiration from u/LettuceDifferent5104's posts and wanted to share my thoughts on the nature of destiny's lore and physics especially as to resonance (Sorry if I have some grammatical errors and run-ons or somewhat incomplete points as this would be my first time posting for a topic like this.)

Hey, I 21F have been dating this guy will call him Dan 22M for about two months now. We first met on a dating app and originally only got together for one night stands but eventually fell in love with each other.
He is such a sweet person, he is so attractive, plays soccer so he is very fit, gorgeous blonde curly hair with blue eyes and he is super smart. He is the definition of Ken from barbie. I have met his family and they are caring and sweet. They are filthy rich as both of his parents have really great jobs. He is an only child, has two caring parents who are so in love with each other and who are happily married together.
One night after a sweet date, I got curious and asked Dan about his past intimate relationships and was horrified by his answer.
It took awhile to get him to tell me what he had done in the past but I eventually got it out of him.
I am being 100% serious and am not sugar coating or cutting any information out, I am cutting straight to the point.
Basically, Dan told me that him and his father would not only have intimate relationships with women at the same time, but they would also casually be intimate with each other. I am not talking about sweet kissing or hugging, I am talking about them being inside of each other type intimacy.
This came as a horrific shock to me but I continued to act like it wasn’t a big deal just so he could continue telling me more about his past relationships with people.
He would tell me that his dad would constantly cheat on his mother with Dan and other women. His mother was completely unaware of this as she is a specialised doctor and often travels the country to work, so he told me that they would usually bring women around to their house while she was gone and both Dan and his father and the long list of different women, would sleep together in Dan’s mothers bed while she was away.
He also mentioned that Dan and his father would casually sleep together with an average of 3-4 women a month for a year straight, all while going unnoticed by his mother.
I continued to act interested and pretended like it turned me on just so he would continue. One thing that made me SICK was when he told me that him, his father and a 57 year old woman hooked up in Dan’s mother’s room while his mother was in hospital.
He also told me that when he first introduced me to his family, his dad pulled him aside and asked if i would be keen to sleep with Dan and his father or if i would consider opening the relationship so that Dan and his father could continue their intimate relationships with other women. However, Dan quickly shut that idea down and told his father that he wouldn’t be continuing the intimate relationships with his father and women as long as me and him were together.
I feel extremely bad for his mother and am unsure of what to do. I am afraid that if i tell his mother she won’t believe me as it is a very serious and unbelievable situation. She is such a kind and sweet woman, she is all about her family and works to keep them safe, stable and up to date with the newest things.
Part of me believes that Dan’s father has groomed him and that this behaviour is extremely rare, disturbing and completely unacceptable. However, Dan swore that him and his father had never been intimate with each other until he reached the age of 20.
I am currently writing this while Dan sleeps peacefully next to me, I am unsure what to do and am asking for your guys advice. I do love Dan, he treats me like a princess and am dead set on this man. He is so kind and caring to me and has reassured me that this behaviour between him and his father has stopped the moment me and him started talking to each other. I honestly pictured us getting married but this is just something that I cannot get past.

Howdy, it seems lots of my friends are busy or not interested in going comic con next weekend. Hence I'm looking for a strictly platonic friend to tag along with me to comic con.
A little about me: INFJ, work full time (mostly from home) within an STEM career. Shy, very introverted (unless I'm comfortable with you then I can be chatty and come off as an extrovert), empathetic and family orientated. I can be silly, cheeky and sassy at times too. I don't drink and I'm not the clubbing/bar type.
My interests:
• Long walks through Central London
• FOOD (I can cook and bake but prefer eating out mostly at Turkish, Japanese, Korean, Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Indian cuisines)
• Heavy metal, hip hop, rap, grime, acoustic but generally listen to anything
• Self care via gym, spa days, retail therapy and long drives
• Movies (psychological thrillers are my favourite)
• West End theatre shows, plays and musicals
• Museum and gallery exhibitions
• Attending eurogamer or comic con
• Anime
• Binging Kdramas
• Video gaming
If you are looking for a new friend in London then please get in touch with a bit about you. Messages with detail appreciated!
Toodles!

I've had 3 relationships in the past. All 3 of them cheated at the clubs.
The first one I dated was a party girl, and so in retrospect her cheating was more of an eventuality. Never date a party girl, they're for the streets.
The second and third went clubbing maybe 1-2 times a month, eventually found out from mutuals they were always getting drinks from strangers and then hooking up with them. Both used the shitty excuse of "it was a heat of the moment thing" or "I was so drunk I'm it'll never happen again"
I really disagree with people saying "Oh trust your partner" or "You're being so controlling". People lie when clubs are mainly for dancing. If that were so, why do both guys and girls dress so provocatively as if advertising they wanna bang.
Especially for girls, it's so easy for them to cheat there. I'm not saying all men go to the clubs for the purpose of getting laid, but I'd bet at least a good 60-75% there keep an eye out hoping to get lucky. They don't care if they're attached or if it's morally incorrect, as long as they have fun they don't care about the lives they destroy.
Clubs are made for girls, they get in for free on ladies nights and the guys follow. Guys will shower them with drinks, and they'll accept. The alcohol impairs their judgment which then allows them to justify choosing any good looking guy there to hook up with. It's like fruit picking, and if something better comes along then "Why not? It's just for one night. They'll never find out".
Even if they don't hookup, women are lying when they say they don't like the unwanted attention. Women go to clubs for that attention, it's an ego boost. That's also just as bad because that means they're always on the look out for something better, meanwhile the poor guys at home are blindly being loyal.
It's been a year and I'm still trying to recover from all this. I think I'd happily be single for the rest of my life as long as I don't have to deal with this nonsense. If I do find someone, if they even mention that they like to club I'll drop them so fast they won't even know what hit them.
My advice to you Redditors is always be wary of your partner going out clubbing, as there's a very high chance something bad is going to happen.

I don't know who to ask advice of this so I thought reddit would be the best place. I 23 F Have been dating my 22 M boyfriend for a little over 2 years and today we had an argument. Usually I don't mind them and understand they are going to happen but today's was too much for me. For context I am currently unemployed with my boyfriend earning the household funds, because of this amongst other reasons I help him in the mornings. I get out of bed before him, lay out his clothes aswell as products he'll need then make breakfast and coffee and you guessed it, turn the geyser on. Last night I took a late bath and usually ask him if he'd like it on so he can shower afterwards, last night I didn't since it was late and I only took a bath since I was in pain. Fast forward to this morning. I half wake up seeing him dressed and annoyed. A little more context, he sometimes works on Sunday and in return wakes up later so he wants to do it himself. Anyway, as I wake up I see he's annoyed so out of instinct and care I asked if he was alright and if he was annoyed about something. He proceeded to tell me that I left the geyser off the one time he didn't tell me to and that he had a bad shower. Bare in mind I did ask why he was annoyed but I wasn't expecting that answer. After a few minutes I said I was sorry in which he proceeded to explain further that it annoyed him. Later after having time to think I confronted him and said that this was my first affence in this matter and asked why he got this mad at me because I couldn't grasp it. He continue with saying why does he need to ask, I should just do it which I proceeded to answer with that I ask him out of curtasy but forgot once. In this house my boyfriend and I share I felt bad leaving the geyser on since it just takes more money so I guess I instinctively didn't and didn't even have hot water myself. The arguements continued and he stormed off, but not before making a final statement. I respond with, you can't just walk away with him yelling I just did. Got in the kitchen where he was 5 seconds later and went to the fridge. I was hungry and acknowledged that I will not be treated with respect so what's the point of the conversation. He proceeded to ask questions like nothings wrong and I responded with the fact that I will not be speaking to someone who has no respect for me and storms off like a child. He proceeded to get offended and yelling at me. I told him I will not be yelled at like a dog, if he does not show me the same respect I show him I will not have this conversation. During which, he wanted to interrupt countless times which I did not allow in a span of 30 seconds. Than he stated that he is angry he is going to yell which I then stated again then I won't have this conversation. He trodded after me slamming the door open and yelling at me saying he is going to say this in which I said I do not want to have this conversation please respect that. He did not. He continued to yell in which a bit childish I know but I blocked my ears and kept repeating I do not want to talk please respect that and leave me alone while I could see his mouth moving and yelling. He then stormed off in a huff and continued to make snippy comments as he left. I was very supprised at how sound I handled they argument, stating my boundaries was kinda freeing. Worst part is he uses work as a reason not to handle the situation better because he will be late so whenever we have arguments he states that he does not have time for this so our arguments go unresolved. After the fight I walked out saying I do not want to talk to a man that has zero respect for me or time. After cooling down I think I should've just accepted the complaints and move on, I don't know what to do and honestly I am tired of it all, I love him so should I apologize or do something? AITAH?

I am a Full Stack Web Developer but I am more on FE side. We have deployed our BE app to app runner aws (2cpu & 6gb memory). We keep having issues that our BE takes a lot of time to process and sometimes having heap out of memory issue. I'm not knowledgeable in our infra and aws so i'm not sure if we should configure that or our code.
There are times that saving a record takes up more than 2 minutes just to have a timeout response and our BE app will crash then restarts. I will try a different approach but i'm not sure if that will solve the issue.
Some questions in my mind is:

• How can we know that our infra can handle process like in our local?
• Is there a way to find the right configuration for our infra?
• What approach should we do if we have data year to date?
• What tech should we need to study or learn with this kind of app?

Currently, we don't have a knowledgeable senior level BE developer.
For the heap out of memory, we keep adding --max-old-space-size but I think that is only a band aid solution.
Tech stack of our BE:

• NodeJS
• Express
• GraphQL

I hesitate to post this because I've been on reddit for years and know ya'll can be vultures but here it goes:
TL;DR - Fiancé and I are confused and exhausted. We're currently a dead bedroom, it's my doing. He needs more physical intimacy and for some reason I can't provide it. He has cheated, only since physical intimacy stopped, although he does not agree it is cheating. He knows he has hurt me. Blah blah blah, wedding is postponed, we've discussed an open relationship and/or taking a break.
Background:
We have been together for 10 years, engaged 2. We're in our early 30s. Wedding is planned for next year. No kids, but 3 dogs together.
The beginning of our relationship was like any new relationship. We were young, the honeymoon phase seemed never-ending as we didn't see each other often, and sex was new and exciting.
2 years into dating, I started birth control. Immediately, we didn't notice many sexual side effects, but looking back, there probably were. We had both been taking antidepressants/ anti-anxiety medication before we met, and we both currently still take those medications. We know these have sexual side effects, for both of us.
After dating a few years we moved in together and shortly after, sex became infrequent. About 3 years into living together he brought up concerns about lack of sex and physical intimacy. I eventually realized I got comfortable and content, and didn't prioritize sex and physical intimacy as I should have been. I promised I would change, but I unfortunately didn't. Around this time, he sent a nude photo of himself to a friend of mine. I couldn't believe it, he told me a few days later, and promised to never do anything like that or to hurt me like that again.
Fast forward to now, we own a house together, and still unfortunately, I have done little to nothing to increase my sex drive and physical intimacy. I start little things but no progress is made. For example I say I'm going to plan a "sexy time" but it just doesn't happen. I did surprise him with a photo album of sexy polaroids of myself, which he enjoyed. But maybe a year later he asked a different friend of mine for sexy photos. I think he's just missing that attention that I should be giving him. His love language is physical touch, mine is acts of service and gift giving, and I struggle to show him love in the way he wants to be shown (physically.)
Since our engagement, the past year has been filled with discussions about our dead bedroom: why it happened, can we fix it, etc. For both of us, it's been almost impossible to be excited about being engaged or planning a wedding or getting married because of this issue. We've agreed that we don't want to get married if we're not excited, so we're postponing the wedding. Also, we both see a therapist and have started couples therapy.
Where it gets complicated:
He recently told me that last year, he visited a club a few times. Only on one occasion it got physical: he received a handjob, (I do believe him because at this point there's nothing to hide.) This handjob visit occurred 6 months after he proposed. Leading up to these club visits (which remember, I didn't know about until recently) he would urge me in a healthy way to be intimate, communicate his needs, and so on. But for whatever my multitude of reasons are that I'm working out in therapy (vaginismus, piled on stress, self-esteem issues, maybe not being attracted or turned on by my partner, low libido, possible imbalanced hormones, health scares that may have caused trauma) I just couldn't do it. Of course I regret it, I don't know what's wrong with me and I wish I could snap my fingers and fix it. So I do understand why he went to that club.
We truly do not know what to do. We love each other. We've been through so much, helped each other through a lifetime of stressful events, and experienced such great things together. We've talked about our future together for the past decade. But we also recognize that time spent together does not mean you should or are obligated to stay together. We recognize that right now, neither of us are happy and something needs to change.
We've briefly mentioned opening our relationship, taking a break, or both. But we don't know what that entails. Since we live together and the dogs are like our children, we don't know how a break would logistically work. As for opening our relationship, considering the infidelity, I just don't know. But at the same time, there is no sex or intimacy happening and I want to see him happy in that way. I feel like it would improve his mental health. Our therapist has been focusing more on us rather than discussing those options at the moment.
Of course there is so much more to a decade-long relationship, and I'm trying to be as neutral as possible when writing this. But we just feel like we're in this best friend, roommate, sometimes cuddle limbo and are avoiding truly discussing it because we know the options...we just don't. know. what. to. do. So if anyone has any actual advice, similar stories, or experiences with an open relationship or taking a break (while engaged) please share.
Also if you're going to respond with something unnecessary or unhelpful like "just break up" we'll save you the time and say thank you, we've discussed that option as well.

Howdy, it seems lots of my friends are busy or not interested in going comic con next weekend. Hence I'm looking for a strictly platonic friend to tag along with me to comic con.
A little about me: INFJ, work full time (mostly from home) within an STEM career. Shy, very introverted (unless I'm comfortable with you then I can be chatty and come off as an extrovert), empathetic and family orientated. I can be silly, cheeky and sassy at times too. I don't drink and I'm not the clubbing/bar type.
My interests:
• Long walks through Central London
• FOOD (I can cook and bake but prefer eating out mostly at Turkish, Japanese, Korean, Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Indian cuisines)
• Heavy metal, hip hop, rap, grime, acoustic but generally listen to anything
• Self care via gym, spa days, retail therapy and long drives
• Movies (psychological thrillers are my favourite)
• West End theatre shows, plays and musicals
• Museum and gallery exhibitions
• Attending eurogamer or comic con
• Anime
• Binging Kdramas
• Video gaming
If you are looking for a new friend in London then please get in touch with a bit about you. Messages with detail appreciated!
Toodles!

I’ve been casually seeing this guy for over 6 months now, and lately I’ve been feeling so down and upset after we hang out. It usually results in uncontrollable tears and it’s really frustrating because the time we spend together is so lovely.
I know the anxiety stems from various things like, how will our communication go this week, is he actively dating etc. I know my anxious attachment style isn’t ideal for a casual scenario, but I’m happy to continue this relationship for personal reasons.
Has anyone else experienced these feelings, and if so any words on how to self soothe? Thank you.

Hey,
​
This is gonna be long-winded and probably incoherent, but I just need to get this off my chest and if you have any insight regarding why it's constantly happening to me I'd love to hear it.
I consider myself a pretty introverted guy, but I've generally had no issues talking with girls and getting dates, more so recently of course, since I've been growing more comfortable in my own skin. I'm definitely a romantic, I never understood the attitude of guys that treat girls like trash, that just doesn't compute in my head. If I love something, I'm going to take care of it to the best of my ability.
I think we have all had that experience of "the one that got away", well mine was no different. The girl I met when I started uni was special, she was drop dead gorgeous, completely my type, witty and cracked jokes like I would, we finished each other's sentences, we had the same ideas and ambitions. Everything was going great, I was on cloud nine and I never even thought about this like that, but this girl made me think that she's the one I'm gonna marry. We were celebrating new year's at a mutual friend's house and we hooked up, it was phenomenal. Literally 2 days later she ghosts me out of nowhere, I panic. I reach out to talk to her face to face to see what's going on. She obliged reluctantly and word for word said "I'm sorry it's not going to work, you are too good for me".
Now, I've had my heart broken a few times by this point, but this... This was devastating.
I went to a dark place in my own mind, stopped talking with everyone, started doing drugs and generally engaging in self-destructive behavior. It was really hard accepting the fact that my best was never enough for her, I blamed myself constantly, I cried dozens of times alone outside. Whenever a song came up on the radio that reminded me of her my whole mood changed, even if it was jolly prior. I generally am able to keep a cool and straight face when I'm around family as I never want to talk about my own problems, mostly because I know that if I do I will fucking meltdown so I steer clear, I never want them to feel sorry for me, but even they thought something weird was going on and kept asking me questions.
It took me a good 3 years to accept what happened and start trying to move on, as you can imagine my confidence was shattered for that whole time and my self-worth was at an all time low. I started dating again, but not to find love, I don't believe in that anymore, just for sex and to feel wanted. I would tell girls what they wanted to hear, hook up and bail. Hell, sometimes they only wanted sex too, that was optimal. If I didn't get intimate with a girl on the 2nd date I would just look for someone else, I never wanted to put in any effort into actually cultivating anything meaningful or fulfilling. I would always feel like shit when I would pump and dump, because deep down I know what I was doing and that it wasn't me, but I also craved the satisfaction. Looking back, I was definitely perpetuating my own trauma.
Now, I used mainly dating apps, sometimes just start texting people I knew. But a few weeks ago I was at the supermarket and just on my phone walking, when some girl just ran in front of me at speed and knocked me off balance for a moment, she just glanced back at me and I saw how pretty she was, it sent a shock down my body. She was hurrying to get some beer, which I respected and admired. When we were on our way out I approached her to talk to her, told her she caught my eye and asked for her number. She gave me the digits, but she was so flabbergasted it was really funny and cute. We went on a date the next day, she's amazing, we mesh so well together. She's smart and responsible, takes care of her parents same as I do, we found a lot in common. I was thrilled, I never approached anyone like this and the time I felt that I had to do it - it paid off in a big way. I was falling for her and she was for me.
We went on dates, we had fun, talked and walked a lot. I bring her lunch to work, flowers sometimes. She was celebrating a sister's birthday one evening and I had taken her from the place to her apartment, she said she wanted me to stay the night, so I did. It was glorious, we both had a great time.
After that she ghosted me, she doesn't text me first anymore. I have to show all the initiative now, whenever I try to set up dates she's busy. To be fair she is pretty busy, she has 2 jobs and she's one of those people like me that don't pull out their phone when hanging out with someone, just not that attached to technology which I really vibe with. She spends a lot of time with her family, she has sisters and cousins that are all the same age and they hang out in the evenings at her place or at her sister's place and I trust that she's not lying. I've met her cousins, they are all really sweet. But I just feel like she's lost interest in me, I keep trying to get something going but her response times are getting longer and longer.
Honestly I've never seen a switch flip so suddenly, it's like she's a different person now. We used to be so intimate, not only in a sexual way but she would sleep on my chest, hug me in her sleep, squeeze me and not let me go, now she barely gives me any attention. It feels like I'm a burden on her right now. She told me that she has always had trouble with relationships because she's so busy with work and it never worked due to this, but I also feel like she could make time for me if she wanted to, but just chooses not to. I feel like I'm about to get my heart annihilated again.
I don't want to lose her, she made me believe in love again. I truly love this girl and want to build my future with her. I keep fighting the urge to reach out to her and try to make it work, but I think that pulling back might be the best play, however painful it might be right now.
Why is it that always when something good happens to me it never lasts.. Always disappointment after disappointment. What is wrong with me?

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

I'm from Utah County and non-Mormon, so you can see the obvious fun I have dating /S. I'm not making this a sob story; the real reason I'm posting here is that it feels a bit more personal than most dating apps. I'm a pretty cheerful, confident guy. I can be a massive smartass and yap a lot, but I can have serious conversations and value communication. So, if you need an ear, I'm game, but do expect the same in return. I tend to be out and about a lot, usually doing stupid stuff and trying not to get hurt or in trouble while doing it. Most of the time, I'm a pro, but there are quite a few stories where I fumbled, lol.
I like to work out. I mostly do calisthenics. I'm admittedly fairly skinny but decently toned. I've also taken up running, but I'm not Usain Bolt, lol. I also play video games, mostly military simulation games like Arma and OHD. I also play platformers like Mario and Sonic, with Sonic being my go-to for my neurodivergent self. I'm big into history, mostly WW2 and the Cold War, and some WW1. I'm actually working on making a Cold War-themed board game.
On top of being a nerd, I do have a sensitive side. I know some of you have probably rolled your eyes, but hey, I like to write poems, and I'm a huge flirt when I warm up to someone. I'm looking for a sweet, caring person around my age and preferably living in the USA. I'm not picky, it's more important that we click, you know?
As for my values, I'm very liberal and an atheist. You don't have to share my views exactly, but I'm being upfront now to avoid causing issues later. I drink sometimes and don't use drugs. I don't care if you use pot, but anything harder is a no-go zone for me, as my family has some history with addiction. If you want to talk, I'm down to give you my Snap or Discord in DM