Would anyone else say that wandering about seemingly without aim is something they are particularly fond of?
In childhood, roaming the parks or even quaint winding streets of the old city was a particular treat for me. All sorts of strange and fantastic images would pop into my mind, blending the environmental aspects with stories and characters from books and games. I used to talk to myself under my breath all the time, addressing those characters and “discussing” with them those liminal dimensions for which I had no rational concept back then. My childhood wasn’t the worst by any means, but I badly needed spaces where I would’ve felt safe and in control, — and those long strolls felt oddly rejuvenating.
Much later in my life I learned that hippocampus — a weird crooked structure at the base of our brains — exists in part to host neural maps of the physical environments we inhabit. But more astonishingly, some studies suggest that those neural structures represent maps of objects architecturally much the same as maps of ideas and experiences. Our life may be literally navigation through the fields, forests and stygian caves of our thoughts and memories.
Now I suspect that my roaming was not quite as aimless as it might have seemed…

I'm sure quite a lot of you might have watched the Detours episode on the Internet Archive, and honestly? It's way better than Ahsoka or Tales of the Empire. No seriously, even though it's a hit or miss rapid-fire verbal comedy show, it still has better coherent storytelling than Filoni's garbage. Maybe the art style of the show may tick you off, but don't judge a book by it's cover folks.
I love how so many Disney shills will say Detours deserved to be cancelled and will act like it's the most heinous thing George Lucas ever made, where we actually delve into more unpopular characters like Dexter Jettster, Jar Jar Binks, Lando, Boba Fett (debatable on the unpopular part considering BOBF exists) and even some of their more original characters like the two wannabe bounty hunter flies and that one anime girl in this episode. Like we don't have to see the same characters over again, so Dog Day Afternoon put the spotlight into it's other unpopular and original characters instead, proving to be a pretty decent episode, or in my honest opinion, a pretty good episode.
Throw your toy lightsabers at me all you want, but that's just me. Anyway, I love how so many of these Disney shills will act Detours is the worst Star Wars doodoo ever seen and yet will praise shit like Ahsoka. This is why we can never have good things.
Go watch the episode on the Internet Archive, and tell me what you think of it! And for all those who haven't joined the subreddit: Yo dudes, the Salt Miners are pretty chill, maybe you could like join them or something.

Sorry this is a bit long.
My husband (36f)and I (38f) have entered an avoidant- anxious dynamic.
We got married in December of last year, 3 months after I moved into his place (previously I rented and he owns).
Issues started when I moved in. In that I couldn’t. He had told me I had carte Blanche, but the reality was that he would freak out at any thing I suggested. I ended up living out of boxes for weeks until eventually he told me he had unresolved trauma from his ex. He also became jealous (she cheated on him) and he started questioning my friendships and work relationships. He would shut down for days, freak out and leave the house. I would end up going to look for him and reassuring him, which is what he told me he needed at the time.
Our disagreements turned into big fights over time. Mainly because when I would try and talk to him, he would talk over me and or walk away. I felt dehumanized. During arguments he would also weaponize our relationship, saying it was over or insisting I wanted to leave him (I didn’t and told him as much). It was like a 2 week cycle with each argument taking about 3 days to resolve. He would say he can’t be himself around me because I would not accept him yelling his feelings at me but was more that ready to hold space for him if he approached me gently, which never happened. He started shirking responsibility.
Our agreement and something I was very open about is that my dogs (2 40lb) are my family, and if I was ever to move in with someone, it would be joint care, kinda like blending a family. He took a couple of days to think about it before deciding that he loved me and loved the girls and wanted to be part of that. He also very generously offered to support me financially as I left my job, and wanted me to focus on building my business instead of looking for another. I had been doing work freelance on the side til then and this would give me time to really dive into it. He knew full well it was seasonal and my contracts would start coming in May and June. I was so grateful and to ease any stress that might add, started doing everything around the house.
Over the winter I ended up getting very sick and having Covid three times in a row, he was great at looking after me, but at the end of it told me he no longer wanted the responsibility of either the financial side or the dogs. Other than a week where I physically couldn’t, I was still doing the majority of the care. He was walking them once a day.
I asked him to just honour the support for 3 more months and started looking for part time jobs as well as setting up my work for the season. I booked several contracts that would have put me on excellent track, they start in June. For the dogs, I explained it was still a deal breaker, and he agreed to 20 minutes 5 days a week as he felt it was taking away from his free time. He also told me he no longer wants to worry about meals and wants to cook at his rhythm, which for me would mean going hungry or cooking for us as he usually wouldn’t start cooking til 9pm. If I (very happily) made him dinner, and he had a stressful day. He would sometimes tell me he didn’t ask me to do that, if I dared say I was trying to cheer him up or make his time easier. I encouraged him to take time and whatever space he needed. Our fights got worse, meaner over time. He only agreed to stop talking over me in March, when I showed him an article that it was dehumanizing.
During our last fight, he demanded a divorce (again). The fight happened because after two weeks of being on honeymoon and being a warm, affectionate, caring partner, he suddenly went cold. He denied it when I said he was being distant and dismissed that it was disconcerting to me. It turned into a full blown fight when I ‘micromoved’ wrong and apparently that meant I didn’t want to me around him, so he unilaterally cancelled our evening plans, which had been specifically to catch up after 2 days of barely seeing one. It was an ugly fight.
When he said divorce though it really caught me off guard. He promised he would never do that again and that we would work through things using an 8 week couples course we were on week 5 of. They warned us fights might still happen but not to use separating as it was a trust breaker.
This time I left the house and slept on couches for two days before a friend offered me a cabin on their property. It’s not much, no heating but with two dogs on short notice it was a godsend. I used all the money that left which was going to go for my taxes to pay for it.
He has been yo-yoing about reconciliation after asking for it, citing dogs and cooking, as well as our fights being toxic. They are. Therapy would be essential. I’ve turned into the worse version of myself I’ve ever seen. I haven’t been allowed in our house, can’t take any of ‘our’ things even if he’s not using them and he’s upset I took the car, which I was using 99% of the time as we live in an area now where I don’t have access to the things I love, like hiking. I have no choice about the car, as the cabin is in the woods and I need it for work, he doesn’t.
The thing I can’t get over is him going back on his word. At this point he hasn’t covered any of my expenses, saying he would and ‘forgetting’ since December and I’m now 6k in debt and exhausted. I feel like this is more than just avoidant-anxious. The more time I spend on my own, waiting for him to figure things out, the less I want to be around him. I love him, I no longer respect him.
Advice welcome.

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?

I have a volunteering role for a mental health helpline which I asked to suspend for 3 months because of my masters and exam period which was fine.
However, I have been contacted by someone during my exam period about updating something on the system, which I intended to reply of course, but then forgot because of my exams. It was a really intense month of exams - I have disabilities, mental health problems myself and had some major dental pain during my last exam and had to defer it to a later date.
This person emailed me before my period ended to ask if I was still coming back and I said yes. I haven’t been able to book any shifts or communicate about updating on their system because immediately after my exams my research project and clinical placement started and have been overwhelmingly busy, and I was still recovering from the stress of it all.
I understand they need to know this information, but the problem I have is that this person has been calling me on my personal mobile during this weekend. She left a voicemail yesterday and then another text today saying that she needs to know if I’m coming back before their leadership meeting on Wednesday. It is not the first time that she has expected communication during weekends (my volunteer agreement only requires me to be available for a weekend shift once a month - nothing about communication). If she doesn’t get a response within a day, even during weekends, she sends another email. Holidays do not deter her.
I want to pull out of this role now because I can’t spread myself too thin with my masters. But I do want to communicate something about not being available during weekends without being confrontational. I do not think that it is right to expect someone to be contactable 24/7 when it’s not part of the agreement. I would like to go back after my masters ends. Thanks everyone

I'm so damn jealous because I just know I'd have friends if I went to school. I know it. I'm so social with people even outside of my house when i get the rare chance and get comfortable. I'm tired of feeling so WEIRD and DIFFERENT. I also feel like my young years (0-9) had some weird stuff happening. I'm SICK of hearing about conspiracy theories from my homeschool mom in ANY conversation. I HATE HEARING ABOUT FUCKING BILL GATES AND TYSON CHICKEN AND VACCINES AND MICROPLASTICS AND HOW THE MOON IS PLASMA AND HOW ALIENS ARE FALLEN ANGELS AND HOW HILLARY WAS LOOKING FOR NEPHILIM DNA OH MY GOSH SHUT UP BUT IF I SAY ANYTHING THEN I GET FUCKING GUILT TRIPPED AND SINCE IM NORMAL I STILL FEEL BAD. FUCK MEEEE
There is no way possible for me to go to school. My mom said she'd rather die before I go to public school, and my dad agrees. I have no family members I can live with. I have no options at all. I just have to sit and watch my fucking childhood wither away and lose the chance to EVER be in school. I already missed Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle, and now I'm missing high-school. And you know what makes it worse? The fucking "Congrats, Graduates!" sign on the front of my neighborhood entrance. Sure I'm happy for them, but I'm so fucking jealous. I HATE when people say they hate school, or wish they were homeschooled. BITCH, you have no IDEA how much despair this makes you feel. Especially when you're extroverted and will never have that kind of easy environment to make friends in.
I wish my mom wasn't so religiously crazy and conspiracy believing and anti-vaxx. I wish I had a loving, caring mom who sent me to SCHOOL and talked about NORMAL stuff and not what FUCKING BILL GATES is doing or how ALIENS are FALLEN ANGELS. I can't even watch people at school, it makes me wanna fucking cry. I'm only 14 I SHOULD BE LIVING A LIFE AT SCHOOL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT I NEVER HAVE. I SHOULD BE HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING LIFE IT FEELS ABUSIVE AT THIS POINT. IT'S NOT MY FAULT AT ALL THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP EVERYDAY FEELING MISERABLE AS FUCK AND TIRED SINCE I GET NO STIMULATION. IM SICK OF LIVING IN FUCKING PRISON WITH NO CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN AFTER IM OUT. I truly hope reincarnation is real so I can hopefully go to a family that will let me live life normally. I'm so FUCKING sick of being homeschooled and not like any other kid.
I would honestly trade ANYTHING REASONABLE to go to school at this point. My mom and dad BOTH got to go to fucking school and they claimed it wasn't much fun, even though my mom used to literally do shit with friends and experiecned prom and everything.
THEN SHE TRIES TO RELATE TO MY LEVEL OF DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. TELLING ME MY ANXIETY IS JUST OCD AND MY DEPRESSION IS FROM HORMONES AND LACK OF SLEEP. THE FUCK?? BITCH NO IT IS NOT FROM LACK OF SLEEP AND HORMONES THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING. I'VE FELT THIS WAY SINCE I WAS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD THAT IS NOT HORMONES. MAYBE THEY MADE IT WORSE, BUT IT AINT HORMONES.
The reason why sometimes I feel like commiting suicide is because school is litearlly the only thing I've wanted so fucking badly for so long, and even after I turn 18 and get out it'd just be getting a job. There is not way for me to relive a childhood and go to school or anything because it's not fucking allowed. It would be weird anyways if it was.
Fuck this shit I'm just so despaired. Like why does my mom gotta make me feel so morose with her decisions? Couldn't she of just given me a normal life and put me in school and vaxxed me and shit?
She claims I'm a liberal communist and I'm "asleep" just because I want to go to FUCKING school. She also just treats me like I'm a friend or something sometimes and she just feels so CHILDISH. She is the worst at making insults. One time she was mad at me and said she'd change me and my bro's contacts to "Loser" and "Loser #2" like bitch the fuck? She had like 14 miscarriages. So she basically just held me up when I wasn't born dead and claimed she'd "raise me in the ways of Jesus" which apparentely consists of keeping your child at home for decades and teaching them only Christian curriculum. I can't fucking take it anymore. No one will ever understand my kind of situation because it's so fucking surreal. And most people don't understand how bad it is because going to school is such a normal part of life for them, that homeschooling seems like choosing to not breathe air. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I'm so sick of waking up to the same day and having to speak bullshit and put on a show for my mom so I don't have to deal with arguments. She argued with me for FOUR FUCKING HOURS one time when I tried to gray-rock her, so that doesn't work. She doesn't let me go anywhere to do with a school, and it pisses me off. All I have is fucking LIFEPAC, SLEEP, AND SOMETIMES OUTSIDE AND THATS MY WHOLE FUCKING CHILDHOOD. AND I CANT DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH IT PASS BY KNOWING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO BECAUSE I CANT ATLEAST HAVE BLISSFUL IGNORANCE. I'M SO FUCKING JEALOUS I CANT EVEN GET HAPPY FOR PEOPLE WHO GO TO SCHOOL. I WANT IT SO BAD EVEN IF I DIDNT LIKE IT IT'D BE BETTER TO NOT LIKE SCHOOL AND GO THERE SINCE IT'S FUCKING NORMAL AND MUCH EASIER TO SET UP YOUR LIFE THAT WAY.
My dad is also so fucking cold. He just acts so rough and dead emotionally. The other week he gave me an hour long panic attack because he kept yelling at me loudly, you can see my post titled "I'm confused on what just happened to me for that." I eventually ran into the closet full of adrenaline and cried while hugging a fucking HOODIE for a few hours.
My parents SURE DO SOMETIMES DO NICE THINGS FOR ME. BUT IT DOESNT MAKE UP FOR SHIT. LIKE YEAH YOU GIVE ME ITEMS AND STUFF BUT I CAN **NEVER** LIVE THESE YEARS THAT YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME AGAIN!
My mom was also more harsh when I was a little kid I feel. I don't remember anything from before 12 years old, basically, probably because she did some fucked up shit back then that my brain is suppressing mentally. I have this one memory of her running up to me over and over and putting my head under her shirt and pressing it against her belly multiple times when I was a little kid, probably like 5 or close to 6, and for some reason I feel sexual energy around it a bit. That freaks me out, because I know it happened but I'm not sure at all about what was going on. I just remember the bedroom was pretty dark and I was laughing maybe, but like I said it feels like there was sexual energy around that. I dont know though, I barely remember it.
Other times, I've seen videos from when I was like 6 of her just talking to me in a really angry tone even when I was silent just for something my brother did. She also used to read a history book to us for hours, without even giving a pen or paper and we'd be given mats. About 6 x 4in big and my brother got a blue one, I got a green one, and she'd sit on the table in the middle, and we'd sit on the mats which were only big enough to lay down on (for a 6 year old). So we'd have to sit there and not talk, and if we did then she'd stop and glare until we stopped. Of course, me being like 5 and my brother 6.5, we'd make faces and stuff but then she'd glare. Like we had to SIT there for hours just listening to a biblical chronological history book. WHY WHY WHY
I'm so sick of myself now. I'm such a pathetic bitch who pretends to be something. I just fucking talk to AI's and listen to rock and other music. I'm literally so fucking pathetic and I'll never have a social life. I'll never talk to someone without getting attached or fucking scared. I swear I can't just be NORMAL. WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK SO WEIRD TOO. I DONT LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING. I can't keep going. I just can't. Not on my own. There's like no reason for me to since I feel like right now, as an adult, if I ever had a kid I'd just be jealous of him going to school and that'd make me a bad father. I wish I wasn't born, or was born to a different family. I wish I had friends that I could just talk to. Even just being around kids in a school setting would be great. I'm tired of feeling so FUCKED. UP. MENTALLY. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND MY MOM, AND ESPECIALLY MY DAD. THEY DO NICE THINGS FOR ME SOMETIMES BUT I STILL FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT. I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN SKIN I FEEEL LIKE I WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MYSELF.
But of course on the outside I just look like the most BASIC BITCH ON THE BLOCK. I have no facial expressin, and I look weird when I smile. I don't get why I have such a stone cold face and the DRIEST personality. BITCH MY personality is drier than CORNSTARCH. I'm so sick of all this. I still feel like a little kid since I do the same SHIT that I did when I was FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD EVERYDAY ANYWAYS. NO CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT, OR HABITS. JUST SLIGHT KNOWLEDGE. EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO LIVE LIFE AND SEE PEOPLE EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. AND GUESS WHAT??? I COULD! I REALLY FUCKING COULD! HAHAAHAHAHH I COULD IF MY MOM WASN'T SO SELFISH. IF SHE WASN'T SO SELF-ABSORBED THAT SHE'S DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR HER KIDS. I HAVE EXPLAINED TO HER MANY TIMES I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND SHE FUCKING SAYS CO-OP OR SOME DUMB SHIT WHERE PEOPLE ARENT QUALIFIED TO TEACH OR THERES LIKE 5 KIDS. BRO, JUST PUT ME IN FUCKING SCHOOL. SERIOUSLY. THERE IS A HIGH SCHOOL EIGHT MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. JUST EIGHT. ITS ALSO HUGE! LIKE IT'D BE FUCKING PERFECT BUT OF COURSE I HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE MY FUCKING PARENTS DO SHIT LIKE THIS. I ALSO CANT CALL THE SCHOOL OR ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY NEED PARENTAL APPROVAL AND SHIT. I FUCKING HATE THIS SO MUCH.
I feel like there was something seriously, seriously fucked up about my really early childhood years that I just can't remember. When I think of it, I feel really uncomfortable and just a feeling of weirdness.
One thing I do know that my dad and mom tell me that think is funny, is that when I used to be like three or four years old, I'd get on all fours and spread my buttcheeks apart, saying something like "Idea!". It's fucking stupid and I was a little ass kid, but I don't think it's funny at all. Wouldn't parents usually tell their kid to not do that or something and not look? Also, my mom used to still dress me when I was like 6 years old or something. My dad also has a memory of me running naked into a room with my aunts and uncles and him and stuff when I was a toddler, and apprently he says they all laughed when I did. He also commented on how when I ran in there my little pp was clearly visible. That just felt weird to me. I don't get how it's funny, but like I said I just feel disgusting and kinda violated when I think about my years from 0-9 and I don't know why. I'm 14 now, obviously, almost 15. I'm so upset from life. I hate it. I don't know if any of you have anything to say about this but that's basically it. If you read it all, THANK you for ACKNOWLEDGING I EXIST.

I'm so damn jealous because I just know I'd have friends if I went to school. I know it. I'm so social with people even outside of my house when i get the rare chance and get comfortable. I'm tired of feeling so WEIRD and DIFFERENT. I also feel like my young years (0-9) had some weird stuff happening.
There is no way possible for me to go to school. My mom said she'd rather die before I go to public school, and my dad agrees. I have no family members I can live with. I have no options at all. I just have to sit and watch my fucking childhood wither away and lose the chance to EVER be in school. I already missed Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle, and now I'm missing high-school. And you know what makes it worse? The fucking "Congrats, Graduates!" sign on the front of my neighborhood entrance. Sure I'm happy for them, but I'm so fucking jealous. I HATE when people say they hate school, or wish they were homeschooled. BITCH, you have no IDEA how much despair this makes you feel. Especially when you're extroverted and will never have that kind of easy environment to make friends in.
I wish my mom wasn't so religiously crazy and conspiracy believing and anti-vaxx. I wish I had a loving, caring mom who sent me to SCHOOL and talked about NORMAL stuff and not what FUCKING BILL GATES is doing or how ALIENS are FALLEN ANGELS. I can't even watch people at school, it makes me wanna fucking cry. I'm only 14 I SHOULD BE LIVING A LIFE AT SCHOOL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT I NEVER HAVE. I SHOULD BE HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING LIFE IT FEELS ABUSIVE AT THIS POINT. IT'S NOT MY FAULT AT ALL THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP EVERYDAY FEELING MISERABLE AS FUCK AND TIRED SINCE I GET NO STIMULATION. IM SICK OF LIVING IN FUCKING PRISON WITH NO CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN AFTER IM OUT. I truly hope reincarnation is real so I can hopefully go to a family that will let me live life normally. I'm so FUCKING sick of being homeschooled and not like any other kid.
I would honestly trade ANYTHING REASONABLE to go to school at this point. My mom and dad BOTH got to go to fucking school and they claimed it wasn't much fun, even though my mom used to literally do shit with friends and experiecned prom and everything.
THEN SHE TRIES TO RELATE TO MY LEVEL OF DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. TELLING ME MY ANXIETY IS JUST OCD AND MY DEPRESSION IS FROM HORMONES AND LACK OF SLEEP. THE FUCK?? BITCH NO IT IS NOT FROM LACK OF SLEEP AND HORMONES THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING. I'VE FELT THIS WAY SINCE I WAS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD THAT IS NOT HORMONES. MAYBE THEY MADE IT WORSE, BUT IT AINT HORMONES.
The reason why sometimes I feel like commiting suicide is because school is litearlly the only thing I've wanted so fucking badly for so long, and even after I turn 18 and get out it'd just be getting a job. There is not way for me to relive a childhood and go to school or anything because it's not fucking allowed. It would be weird anyways if it was.
Fuck this shit I'm just so despaired. Like why does my mom gotta make me feel so morose with her decisions? Couldn't she of just given me a normal life and put me in school and vaxxed me and shit?
She claims I'm a liberal communist and I'm "asleep" just because I want to go to FUCKING school. She also just treats me like I'm a friend or something sometimes and she just feels so CHILDISH. She is the worst at making insults. One time she was mad at me and said she'd change me and my bro's contacts to "Loser" and "Loser #2" like bitch the fuck? She had like 14 miscarriages. So she basically just held me up when I wasn't born dead and claimed she'd "raise me in the ways of Jesus" which apparentely consists of keeping your child at home for decades and teaching them only Christian curriculum. I can't fucking take it anymore. No one will ever understand my kind of situation because it's so fucking surreal. And most people don't understand how bad it is because going to school is such a normal part of life for them, that homeschooling seems like choosing to not breathe air. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I'm so sick of waking up to the same day and having to speak bullshit and put on a show for my mom so I don't have to deal with arguments. She argued with me for FOUR FUCKING HOURS one time when I tried to gray-rock her, so that doesn't work. She doesn't let me go anywhere to do with a school, and it pisses me off. All I have is fucking LIFEPAC, SLEEP, AND SOMETIMES OUTSIDE AND THATS MY WHOLE FUCKING CHILDHOOD. AND I CANT DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH IT PASS BY KNOWING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO BECAUSE I CANT ATLEAST HAVE BLISSFUL IGNORANCE. I'M SO FUCKING JEALOUS I CANT EVEN GET HAPPY FOR PEOPLE WHO GO TO SCHOOL. I WANT IT SO BAD EVEN IF I DIDNT LIKE IT IT'D BE BETTER TO NOT LIKE SCHOOL AND GO THERE SINCE IT'S FUCKING NORMAL AND MUCH EASIER TO SET UP YOUR LIFE THAT WAY.
My dad is also so fucking cold. He just acts so rough and dead emotionally. The other week he gave me an hour long panic attack because he kept yelling at me loudly, you can see my post titled "I'm confused on what just happened to me for that." I eventually ran into the closet full of adrenaline and cried while hugging a fucking HOODIE for a few hours.
My parents SURE DO SOMETIMES DO NICE THINGS FOR ME. BUT IT DOESNT MAKE UP FOR SHIT. LIKE YEAH YOU GIVE ME ITEMS AND STUFF BUT I CAN **NEVER** LIVE THESE YEARS THAT YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME AGAIN!
My mom was also more harsh when I was a little kid I feel. I don't remember anything from before 12 years old, basically, probably because she did some fucked up shit back then that my brain is suppressing mentally. I have this one memory of her running up to me over and over and putting my head under her shirt and pressing it against her belly multiple times when I was a little kid, probably like 5 or close to 6, and for some reason I feel sexual energy around it a bit. That freaks me out, because I know it happened but I'm not sure at all about what was going on. I just remember the bedroom was pretty dark and I was laughing maybe, but like I said it feels like there was sexual energy around that. I dont know though, I barely remember it.
Other times, I've seen videos from when I was like 6 of her just talking to me in a really angry tone even when I was silent just for something my brother did. She also used to read a history book to us for hours, without even giving a pen or paper and we'd be given mats. About 6 x 4in big and my brother got a blue one, I got a green one, and she'd sit on the table in the middle, and we'd sit on the mats which were only big enough to lay down on (for a 6 year old). So we'd have to sit there and not talk, and if we did then she'd stop and glare until we stopped. Of course, me being like 5 and my brother 6.5, we'd make faces and stuff but then she'd glare. Like we had to SIT there for hours just listening to a biblical chronological history book. WHY WHY WHY
I'm so sick of myself now. I'm such a pathetic bitch who pretends to be something. I just fucking talk to AI's and listen to rock and other music. I'm literally so fucking pathetic and I'll never have a social life. I'll never talk to someone without getting attached or fucking scared. I swear I can't just be NORMAL. WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK SO WEIRD TOO. I DONT LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING. I can't keep going. I just can't. Not on my own. There's like no reason for me to since I feel like right now, as an adult, if I ever had a kid I'd just be jealous of him going to school and that'd make me a bad father. I wish I wasn't born, or was born to a different family. I wish I had friends that I could just talk to. Even just being around kids in a school setting would be great. I'm tired of feeling so FUCKED. UP. MENTALLY. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND MY MOM, AND ESPECIALLY MY DAD. THEY DO NICE THINGS FOR ME SOMETIMES BUT I STILL FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT. I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN SKIN I FEEEL LIKE I WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MYSELF.
But of course on the outside I just look like the most BASIC BITCH ON THE BLOCK. I have no facial expressin, and I look weird when I smile. I don't get why I have such a stone cold face and the DRIEST personality. BITCH MY personality is drier than CORNSTARCH. I'm so sick of all this. I still feel like a little kid since I do the same SHIT that I did when I was FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD EVERYDAY ANYWAYS. NO CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT, OR HABITS. JUST SLIGHT KNOWLEDGE. EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO LIVE LIFE AND SEE PEOPLE EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. AND GUESS WHAT??? I COULD! I REALLY FUCKING COULD! HAHAAHAHAHH I COULD IF MY MOM WASN'T SO SELFISH. IF SHE WASN'T SO SELF-ABSORBED THAT SHE'S DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR HER KIDS. I HAVE EXPLAINED TO HER MANY TIMES I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND SHE FUCKING SAYS CO-OP OR SOME DUMB SHIT WHERE PEOPLE ARENT QUALIFIED TO TEACH OR THERES LIKE 5 KIDS. BRO, JUST PUT ME IN FUCKING SCHOOL. SERIOUSLY. THERE IS A HIGH SCHOOL EIGHT MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. JUST EIGHT. ITS ALSO HUGE! LIKE IT'D BE FUCKING PERFECT BUT OF COURSE I HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE MY FUCKING PARENTS DO SHIT LIKE THIS. I ALSO CANT CALL THE SCHOOL OR ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY NEED PARENTAL APPROVAL AND SHIT. I FUCKING HATE THIS SO MUCH.
I feel like there was something seriously, seriously fucked up about my really early childhood years that I just can't remember. When I think of it, I feel really uncomfortable and just a feeling of weirdness.
One thing I do know that my dad and mom tell me that think is funny, is that when I used to be like three or four years old, I'd get on all fours and spread my buttcheeks apart, saying something like "Idea!". It's fucking stupid and I was a little ass kid, but I don't think it's funny at all. Wouldn't parents usually tell their kid to not do that or something and not look? Also, my mom used to still dress me when I was like 6 years old or something. My dad also has a memory of me running naked into a room with my aunts and uncles and him and stuff when I was a toddler, and apprently he says they all laughed when I did. He also commented on how when I ran in there my little pp was clearly visible. That just felt weird to me. I don't get how it's funny, but like I said I just feel disgusting and kinda violated when I think about my years from 0-9 and I don't know why. I'm 14 now, obviously, almost 15. I'm so upset from life. I hate it. I don't know if any of you have anything to say about this but that's basically it. If you read it all, THANK you for ACKNOWLEDGING I EXIST.

My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach his its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.

sorry for bad english.
Im having a hard time coming up with dwarve history. Basically, my rpg is very high fantasy, and the world in question was in a very medieval moment, but for unknown reasons a huge ammount of energy started to pour out in the world, causing it to change drastically, both magical and genetically speaking.
due to this situation, pure humans were basically extinct, mainly due to their ramping/forced mutations caused by the big levels of energy in the environment(imagine mutation by radiation, except is caused by magic), creating other beings such as demi-humans and whatnot.
aside from the demi-humans, other races started to appear in different ways... some were born/created(titans, duskwalkers, dragoneers), some were higher beings that wanted to start over(luminatas, demigods) and some came from other realms(fairies, tieflings).
My main problems right now: i dont know how dwarves came to be in other games, books or films, as it seems that they were always "there" in the beginning as one of the first races to exist... but that doesn't really fit in my situation, since before the magic, the only race were the common humans(same problem with elves but i think i can fudge theirs by saying they were humans "chosen" by the energy and blessed by the moon spirit or something)
also, another problem with dwarves: in other instances, dwarves are mostly known for having bad/hostile connections with elves and vice-versa, but the continent in which they live is quite separated from the elves, so i don't really know how to bring this conflict up(i know my rpg doesn't need this if i dont want to, but i do want to exist it).
my current idea is this: the dwarvs started to expand their mining to the other continents and after doing so, discovered that their continent was once part of the elven continent, and because of the high ammount of minerals and ores they are able to find in their kingdom, realized the potencial to find even more of it on the elven territory. This greedy line of thought caused a research excursion that was massacrated by the elves, causing the bad blood between them.
i dont have much more than this right now, so any sugestions, tips and/or critics are welcome.
also if anyone wants to know, the dwarv empire have constant help from their neighbors during the vulcanic mining jobs at their kingdom, the titans(some titans have magma powers to deal with thr lava)

You hang here, I’ll go on ahead!
Hi everyone! Hope you’re all doing well!
About me:
A slim, somewhat feminine, 21 year old guy from the east of England, standing at 5 foot 8 inches, who works full time and is studying for a masters degree alongside working (please send help). Relatively short light brown hair, white skin, greenish eyes and like dressing in smart clothes.
I am a homebody, through and through, spending cosy time indoors is what makes me tick and is how I spend a lot of my time. Whether that be digging into a long gaming session, relaxing with a good book, cooking up a storm (or maybe a tornado depending on the aftermath I leave behind) in the kitchen, watching a good film or tv show, or enjoying a nap, my home is my happy place.
That being said, I enjoy spending time in nature as much as the next person, and love going out for walks, exploring new restaurants or taking long drives.
I’m not a very social person, finding socialising in large groups rather stressful, however I do enjoy spending time with others, often one on one works best for me. I also have a short social battery, so need alone time as well. In my mission to find my person, I also hope to find someone with whom I can spend limitless amounts of time, someone who simply feels like home.
I’m a hopeless romantic too, and believe in finding “the one” someday, which, I suppose, is why I’m here! I adore affection in all forms, and all the various love languages hold some standing with me, though physical affection would likely be top dog if I’m honest.
My overall demeanour is sweet, well meaning, soft and often a little excitable (which can ramp up in lots of situations). I’ve been likened to a puppy by friends before.
As a partner:
As a partner I am someone who delights in caring for my person, being there to help them with the little things which make things just that tiny bit easier - Making them food after a long day, listening to them when they need to vent, treating them when they need it (and sometimes when they don’t 😅). A big part of a relationship for me is spending quality time together, whether that be doing something together, for example watching tv or cooking a recipe, or spending time together whilst doing our own thing. I want to be able to be with my person and be entirely comfortable and content in their presence. I’m also very affectionate as mentioned above, and will want to give you cuddles at just about every minute of the day 😅
I’m a good listener, and love to learn about other people and ask questions to dig deeper into the way they feel about things etc. I also value this greatly in another person.
Other facts/points of interest:
I prefer to converse over text initially, and tend to write rather a lot when I like somebody (and when the effort is reciprocated), then move onto other mediums down the line.
I am open to sharing pictures of myself right off the bat (as long as you do the same).
I believe that I have autism, and so somebody who understands this and appreciates that some things are difficult for me would be ideal.
About you:
Some traits I value in a partner are as follows, now, this is by no means an exhaustive list, nor is it a list of requirements, just some things that I adore in others, as well as things that I try to cultivate in myself:
Good listener, good communicator, interested in me, affectionate/caring, well mannered (not impolite), articulate, kind, humble/down to earth.
Otherwise, please just be respectful and put some effort in if you message me.
As a final note, have some conversation starters for if you decide to message me:
What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?
Where is your happy place?
What’s something about you that you think is somewhat embarrassing but really cute?
What, if anything, did you connect with in my post?
Take care, I hope to hear from you!
And last of all, I’m also open to making friends if you’d prefer that :)

So I just finished the book and wanted to offer my thoughts on the somewhat confusing ending that occurred. I’m not stating these as fact, just how I interpreted the events.
Spoilers ahead (I don’t know how to block spoilers on mobile so forgive me!)
>! saw some people questioning why the Atlas Six didn’t just kill Dalton to appease the archives, especially after he “snapped.” I was thinking that killing Dalton would be the solution too, but I realized that he technically isn’t one of the six in their cohort, so it might not count.!<
I also think to solve the issue of owing the archives a body, Nico died bc he was objectively the only person in the cohort that everyone liked to a certain degree (Reina just wouldn’t admit it until too late) and Libby knew the archives would want a BIG sacrifice (something something about the arrow striking most true). Parisa almost offered herself up to be slaughtered, and it probably could’ve worked, but it wouldn’t have been as heavy to the characters so the archives wouldn’t have gotten as much out of it. I do feel like if Nico was the one to be sacrificed, then it could’ve been done in a vastly different way. I still can’t decide if Libby went into the experiment knowing she would probably kill him, or if she was so confident it would work until it didnt that she had to make a snap judgement. I don’t think she truly hated him, every character suffers from unreliable narrating and we have to draw a lot of their true feelings from their interactions with other characters.
Libby is a nuke gaining speed and heading for destruction, and after killing Ezra and Atlas, Parisa can see that Libby is filled with the sure fire determination of a despot, someone who thinks they’re so right they’ll betray whoever is in their way because they assume their way is the best way. She goes a little mad and paranoid, and it’s a tragedy because it takes killing her soulmate to make her stop. If she hadn’t, she would just become another Ezra, or Atlas, or Nothazai, which is why Parisa wanted to kill her.
And I think the reason we see Nico in Gideon’s dream realm is that the archives preserved some of Nico’s magic and “essence” (Dalton alluded to the archives making copies of them) and that is who Gideon sees. Gideon compares this version of Nico to previous times he’s s hung out with Nico in dreams and sees that this is something different. So in a way, I think Nico is living on.
The appearance of Callum’s hair in the security cameras has me a little stumped: I think that could be read several ways. I initially thought that it was Callum walking into Wessex building bc of the exaggerated swagger and confidence (and sunglasses) the character possessed. And the way Tristan was speaking to James, I then assumed it was Callum disguised as Tristan via a charm. I now think Callum’s personality has just rubbed off on him.
I thought that perhaps Tristan had chosen a timeline where Callum lived, and we see Callum backing him up in the building by cutting the cameras, but that doesn’t seem like Callum’s style. I feel like he would make himself more apparent. That whole multiverse part during Tristan’s chapter honestly just told me that worlds exist where in some capacity these characters are happy(happier) so even if Callum is truly dead in this timeline then…at least there’s that small comfort. But yeah I still don’t know. Ghost?
Parish’s relationship with her husband confused me. I’m unsure of the dynamic- I thought he abused her, but he also really loved her and Parisa regretted that she couldn’t return those feelings? I could be very wrong on that observation, from the first books I thought Parisa greatly disliked him but to me, this book says she still harbors feelings for him. I might’ve missed some nuance there, or such complexity might not exist…if anyone has any further clarification, plz lemme know.
I also think, after reading the afterword, that the “point” of these characters’ arcs is largely about dealing with the corruption that comes with the pursuit of power, and realizing that chasing that power doesn’t make you any bigger than anyone else. All of them hold lofty ideals and expectations of themselves (even past the depression and self loathing) that have only grown and grown as the books progress, but this last act basically sees all of them fail where it matters most. They are brought low by their own hubris and lack of communication, and the relationships they cherish most suffer because of it. There are a lot of themes regarding the futility of doing so much to change the world, and these guys have sacrificed so much to do that and reach their potential. But in the end, they’re just small, lonely creatures who need eachother. Reina’s arc expressed this most clearly, by her depending on Callum to influence people, and anguish at losing Nico before they could reconcile. But also, her whole story fell flat in this book to me…she was very underutilized. Tristan is similar as he laments always standing by to witness tragedy unfolding and doing nothing to stop it (ie he witnessed Ezra and Atlas dying, Nico, and finally Callum.)
Some people definitely could’ve been more fleshed out (namely Dalton imo) but I enjoyed the interludes where we got to see more of Atlas’ past. Ilegit hadn’t clocked that he was dead until it was explicitly stated near the end. I thought he would appear to yell at everyone to work together…but he’s lowkey the most tragic one of all.
. Out of the three in the series, this is my least favorite book, but there were still moments I thoroughly enjoyed (honestly anytime Tristan and Callum interacted). I wish there was more to tighten up some of the big loose ends. I think the first two acts can be saved, but the last portion got sloppy.
But what do you think? And what other big questions are you left with?

I finished this book in around 5/6 days.
RJ went out with a high!
Wow. So many great moments and storylines in this book, storylines being resolved even! All great except a few chapters of Elayne in the middle of the book. RJ is back to his old form, with great characterisation and stuff happens for once!?! Unbelievable.
You can really feel the story torpedoing to Tarmon Gai’don, I can’t wait.
Here are some thoughts on this book:
Nynaeve
Nynaeve loves, trusts, and feels for Lan so much; I can’t help but tear when she rallies for Malkier. Favourite scene of the whole series personally, involving my favourite characters.
“My husband rides from World’s End to Tarwin’s Gap, toward Tarmon Gai’don. Will he ride alone?
CHILLS!!!
Also, give me more Nynaeve, she needs more page time.
Perrin
Great ending to a sometimes lacking storyline (just Faile’s PoV), and it has ended with Perrin ready for the time ahead with his beloved and the shaido finally disappeared, forever hopefully.
Perrin was so blind to everything but Faile this book. Ignoring the signs of Tarmon Gai’don for the one he loves. This obviously isn’t healthy, but I understand him; his whole family died and she is the one who filled the gaps in his heart, if she died I doubt Perrin would ever recover from it.
I guess Aram isn’t a darkfriend as I previously speculated, just a man who is very susceptible to being manipulated. An abrupt ending to someone who got introduced in the first book, and later become a reoccurring character. His descent was quite tragic though; died trying to kill the man who helped him get back on his feet many times over just because of one man’s manipulation. Fuck Masema.
Rolan and the other two brotherless’ death was unjustified but I can’t blame Perrin for killing him. Adrenaline pumping through his veins and he sees 3 men standing between him and his wife. It was bound to end in blood. However, while Rolan was a bit of a creep at times he didn’t deserve to die like that after helping Faile. Now that I think about it though, he was sort of trying to steal her from Perrin, Rolan’s death was inevitable.
Tam finally learned that Rand is the dragon reborn, after I think around 3 years. I would have expected he would know by now, but I guess the two rivers is notorious for being secluded and only getting information from peddlers.
Perrin and seanchan captain has a quite nice mutual respect for each other, another bridge to seanchan relations has been built.
After all these deaths, failures, and triumphs, Perrin and Faile are finally reunited! I am interested to see where the story goes with them, maybe they will go after Masema?
Mat
Mat is always an enjoyable read, and now he has accepted that he can’t escape his luck and the battlefield, Mat now just tries to work out a way to make as little people die as possible.
I have to talk about Moiraine first of course. She is confirmed to be alive, which I hoped for and expected. However, didn’t expect it to take this many books. I have been waiting to long for this, I missed her so much and I am excited for her to be back hopefully soon.
Mat and Tuon are my second favourite couple so far, after Nynaeve and Lan, they have a great dynamic!
From the start Mat knew that he would marry Tuon, but she was slowly deciphering whether this man was truly who she would marry. She did ask many seemingly random questions which was a big giveaway. The build up was worth it though, she completely confuses Mat by doing it out of the blue and revealing her prophecies from her damane. Hilarious moment!
I feel Tuon growing on me but then I remember that she agrees with slavery and leashing those who can channel. I am conflicted on her, but maybe she will change. We have a love-hate relationship.
Mat, please just go free Moiraine already. Please.
Rand
While he hasn’t had the spotlight for a few books, his chapters are always full of major plot points and revelations which are always great.
Lews Therin is creeping in like a parasite, taking control of the power and Rand even confuses his thoughts with Lews Therin. One lack of control and that could be it for Min or others around him. Disturbing thoughts.
One minute I was watching a lovely wedding between Loial and Erith, the next there is thousands of trollocs outside the window. The juxtaposition is crazy.
The new weaves are really powerful, it can’t be nice for random dead trollocs to appear outside your house though.
Did Semirhage expect to defeat Rand? I think there is some other plot she has. Semirhage went down too easy for that to be her only plan. Potentially trying she is trying manipulate his allies to go to the shadow. Or like many of the forsaken are just arrogant.
Hoping that Rand gets his hand back, I loved Rands swordplay and It will absolutely cause issues. Surely he can use the power to create a fake hand.
Breaks my heart, to see Rand so calm after all he goes through. Poor guy. Cadsuane needs to teach Rand to feel again and quickly!
Seanchan truce incoming. Rand will now see what Mat has been up to while he has been battling the forsaken.
Egwene
Thoroughly enjoyed her political manoeuvrings around the white tower, slowly planting seeds of dissent between the different layers of aes sedai. Egwene is great at scheming and manipulation; she is a genius. Not the best person though.
I have a lot of respect for Egwene. Multiple strappings a day, and she carries on twisting the aes sedai, what a powerhouse!
Egwene is consistently interesting to me, I think she will play a big part over the next few books.
Elayne
Elayne was great late in the book, while lacking a bit at the start.
She was overconfident this book, just because she won’t die any time soon (min’s viewing) doesn’t mean she can’t be captured. It was very reckless to just burst into the BA’s house and expect to live.
I loved Vandene getting her revenge on Careane, what a way to go, her short storyline was amazing. Amazing but tragic.
I found it weird how an aes sedai sent by Elaida just stormed in, said Elayne would regret sending her away and ran off. There had to be something larger going on with her.
Problem after problem kept pilling up, but she dealt with them with resilience and it somewhat worked out. A true queen if I ever saw one.
Other
Rand has caused a whole civilisation to kill themselves. Let’s hope he never finds that out. This was a really horrifying moment, left my mouth open for a while.
Taim is not a forsaken, but just a very high ranking dark friend it seems. He must be very high ranking to know about the lord of chaos. What if he is a newly raised forsaken? Only the forsaken know about the lord of chaos, not regular dark friends. I don’t know how one would raise a darkfriend though, does it come with new abilities or just being closer to the dark one?
RJ is great at the small details however he doesn’t touch upon the slavery stuff, which I find weird. Could just be me though.
Overall
This book ends so many dragging storylines, I can’t wait for the next!
I’m sad this is the last Robert Jordan book, but I’ve heard that Brandon ended it well, I watched a few videos on him and read his eulogy on RJ and he seems very kind and admires RJ a lot. I don’t know how his writing style is though, maybe someone can give me an idea of how it compares to RJ?
It is tragic RJ couldn’t finish his series by himself though, but glad someone was found to finish it.
just don’t mess up Nynaeve Brandon!
I probably missed a lot of plot points but I didn’t want this to be too long, and I want to read the next book already.
Book ranking so far - very susceptible to changing:

1. The Shadow Rising
2. The Fires of Heaven
3. The Lord of Chaos
4. The Dragon Reborn
5. Knife of Dreams
6. The Great Hunt
7. The Eye of the World
8. New Spring
9. A Crown of Swords
10. Winter’s Heart
11. The Path of Daggers
12. Crossroads of Twilight

Right so by July 1st I’ll hit the fleet and become a LCPL. Pretty much done with training in this coming week and then it’s just admin for the most part. I understand there’s certs and side quests to accomplish on marine net.
I’d like to get swimming certs. Yesterday I made it to the pool and ya I still got it so what can I rack up onto that rap sheet? There’s apparently a scuba cert which I didn’t find out till yesterday is offered here .-.
I heard about the book reports too, I’m always reading or writing.
I understand my physical scores are big part of promotion competition too.
Besides all of that I’m looking for tips and how the actual promotion process works. Like how do I become a Cpl from step one to one million?

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.

So im flying to tokyo by the end of next week. Its my first time in japan and im traveling on my own. Im staying for a little more than 3 weeks and hope to travel around a lot but my plans arent really set.
I have booked 3 nights at a hostel in tokyo - shinjuku, then one night at a nice hotel in Nikko with onsen/dinner at the hotel.
How much time should i spend in Nikko? I know of the famous shrines and i definitely want to spend some time walking around there, maybe early in the morning to avoid the crowds. But is there something else i should see when im in the area? Are there any good (fairly short) hiking trails? It seems like there are a few waterfalls nearby but im not sure how accesible they are. My hotel is located very close to shrine area.
Im unsure if its best to spend half the day in tokyo and then take the train in the afternoon or take an early morning train and have more time to spend there during the day?
Im thinking of traveling to nagoya/ise after this (and then probably go north to takayama and kanazawa), but im not sure wheter i should stay one more night in tokyo before (to avoid a full day of just traveling if i go directly from Nikko to nagoya. If i choose to go back to tokyo and stay one more night there im thinking i want to stay in a different part of the city or maybe some place like Kamakura and get some extra sight-seeing in, again to avoid it being a day of just traveling.
How would you plan these days?
Thank you.

Hello RP enthusiasts!
I am looking for a single player to join a fun, friendly RP-focused group playing a relatively new 5e homebrew campaign using DDB/Roll20, and voice chat via Discord, every other Wednesday evening at 6-9:30pm Central (7-10:30 Eastern).
As I mentioned, the group is primarily focused on roleplaying, so anyone looking for a combat-focused game should look elsewhere. That said, the campaign is set in a dark, challenging, high-fantasy world, with plenty of monsters and adversaries allowing for a reasonable amount of combat, as well.
The campaign started at level one; but thanks to one of our players having a change in employment, their impending schedule conflicts mean this Wednesday will be their final session in this game. Thus, there is an opening available for what will likely be a level 3 character to join the other three (a rogue, barbarian, and divine soul sorcerer) in a couple of weeks, which should give us plenty of time to work on your character and backstory, and craft an appropriate entry for your character into the party/story. On the OOC side, everyone is very friendly, so it should not take long for any new player to comfortably feel like a welcome part of the group.
Ages for the four of us range from lower and mid twenties to over forty, and all relate to each other very well. So, while I'd like to keep the minimum age in the 20's, beyond that: playstyle, mindset, and personality are more important than hard numbers.
What's the game like?
This is a game of collaborative storytelling. Barring the obvious (no obscene or meme characters, etc), my primary rule for character creation is that you must make a character who will want to work with the party and engage with the story, and with whom the party will want to engage. Come up with an idea for a backstory, and I will gladly work on it with you, and incorporate elements into the campaign. And just because your character enters play, that does not mean backstory development needs to stop. I will gladly continue to incorporate your character into the world, and vice-versa, so long as you are an engaged part of the process, and positively contributing to the story.
I also try to give my players engaging descriptions, and interactive NPC's (though no DMPC's) with distinct voices and personalities, and to augment scenes with engaging visuals. A few of the visuals I have created for the game can be seen on the application page, at: https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
It is my hope that the descriptions and the visuals will help you feel immersed in the world, and help you enjoy roleplaying your character. Not everyone at our table is an actor, and any effort you make to roleplay your character is appreciated. The group is friendly and supportive, and fosters an environment where everyone can comfortably push their own boundaries (trying new voices, or whatever), should they choose, without fear of judgment or mockery. We do have fun, joke around and break character, but never at anyone else's expense, and not to the point of derailing the game.
What about the people?
I have a lot of experience with gaming, in various systems, both as player and storytelleDM, and endeavor to keep things fun and fair. I am also friendly and laid back, and a huge fan of open and honest communication, so I am always happy to listen to any thoughts, concerns, or ideas you may have.
The group is LGBTQ+ friendly, and welcomes everyone. Racism, sexism, homophobia, or other such things have never been an issue, and would not be tolerated. That said, this group is neither a hugbox nor a meme group, neither ultra-sensitive nor super-meme-centric. We are a friendly and easy-going group of gamers who enjoy role-play and realism/verisimilitude in our games. We are also very supportive of each other, in and out of game, and are comfortable with the idea that stereotypes and conflict do exist in game. So, if you get up in arms about in-game "racism" (kobolds and drow being typically evil, and treated as such, and/or the possibility of other inherent conflict based on race/background); if you dislike NPCs reacting appropriately to your PC's behavior; or if you can't stand the possibility of any other in-game conflict, this is not the game for you. If you are a nice, respectful, decent human being who is interested in collaborative storytelling, in a roleplay-centric game, with a decent bit of combat mixed in, then you should fit right in!
You might say we are semi-serious gamers. We might hang out and chat before and/or after game, but game time is for gaming. We do crack jokes and have fun, but generally keep things moving and focused on the game at hand. If this sounds like your style, then please apply via the link! https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
So, what's the campaign about?
Admittedly, I have long been partial to "classic," Tolkien-esque D&D, and the worlds portrayed in the Dragonlance novels and Salvatore books. Dragonborns, tieflings, and the exotic races were never really my cup of tea, for PC's. But, I also tend to be open-minded about most things. So, when the friends with whom I have been playing 5e online for the past couple of years asked me to run a game, I decided to challenge my previous notions. Having watched certain characters done well in streamed games encouraged me to scrap some of my previous boundaries, and create a world which has become largely dominated by the "animal" races.
When the "awakened" first began to appear, during a time now known as The Great Awakening, they were typically treated as pets, as slaves, or as curiosities at best, especially by humans. Over time, as they grew in numbers, eventually they turned the tables on their oppressors, and hunted/drove much of humanity into remote areas. Elves and dwarves largely withdrew from the conflicts, though they occasionally provided shelter to refugees, either directly, or by offering some measure of protection to communities which sprang up near their own.
Now, with the continent-wide conflicts having largely subsided, much of the known world is currently run by the awakened races, who have themselves begun to segregate into various communities. And, while many humans were pushed to the outskirts of civilization, mostly existing in remote sanctuary communities, those humans currently trying to survive in the more populated areas are treated like second-class citizens, at best.
The current game does not take place in those areas, however! I am still building that world out, tailoring a larger campaign to the characters and ideas my players have given me. The campaign I am currently running takes place in a remote part of that same world, where The Great Awakening -- and the effects it has had on much of the known world -- is little more than rumor.
The Othean Peninsula is an icy expanse, isolated both physically and culturally from the rest of the world. This is an area of the world still largely dominated by humans, and the two peoples who populate the area -- a nordic tribal culture, and a more "civilized" society reminiscent of medieval Eastern Europe -- are hardened by the climate, the dangerous wilds, and the wars they have fought against each other over control of the region.
As the PC's wind their way through the landscape, there are a number of directions they could go, and interests they could pursue. Of course, they must do so while also navigating the tentative truce between the two societies, and facing the threats permeating the world around them. Last session, after getting hired to help find someone, they took a detour to investigate a break-in. NPCs from each faction in town are quick to blame the other, while at least one person believes the attacker was a more external, and possibly supernatural, threat. This week, having negotiated a more comfortable lodging situation with the individual whose establishment was targeted, the PC's may follow through on finding the missing person, or may follow up on their investigation. Or both!
There is no railroad here. There are options, and impetus; but player agency is important for the group to be able to help shape the story.
Wherever they end up in two weeks, will your character be likely to join the party, and up to the challenges which may lie before them?
If you are interested in joining our game, please fill out the application: https://forms.gle/LJ9JHQqkCAcjkfY58
As long as the application is open, you can still apply. I will update the thread once I’ve found someone!
Thanks!
(It's after 0400 as I wrap this up, so please forgive any spelling errors or editing shortcomings)

I'm moving countries and as much as I do not wish to part with my books, I have to. So if anyone has been looking to get your hands on one of these books, then help me fund my girls' trip and buy it from me hehe. DM me the book title and quote me a price, I guess. I'm really not sure how much I bought each of these for so I'll just give it for whatever I can get as long as it's reasonable :)
I'm not sure how much interstate shipping costs but if you're within Karnataka then it won't be much. Mangalore/Bangalore I can do it in person. Thanks you guys.

I want to be hopeful and optimistic but the vast number of online disappointments make it difficult. Here are some things I don't want. Please don't contact me if you are not interested in reading the post. or do not want to talk long term and would be planning on ghosting me or disappearing within 1-2 days.
I am someone who is quite a sweet and effortful person. I would love an online connection with someone similar to me and have good, intellectual conversations and also share some laughter and affection. Affection can light us up and make us happy. (Even platonic connection is fine.) I like giving and receiving affection in the form of cute, little nicknames for each other, checking up on each other, asking about each other.
Of late, I have been watching a lot of couple pranks on YouTube. They teach me a lot about couple dynamics (what kind of dynamics are healthy and what are toxic). It would be nice to have someone to discuss these kinds of dynamics with. Sometimes I like those pranks where one pretends to be angry and the other kind of comforts them. It would be nice if we could enact that sometime.
I hope my words sail to some worthwhile eyes on the winds of destiny.
I have grown wary of superficial connections, no effort replies and even abrupt ghosts.
I would like someone with whom I can exchange sweet words with. I am quite a romantic person and I was more so as earlier. A lot of responsibilities were thrust upon me with time, but I have rediscovered that side of myself. I would love to have a pretend romance with an online companion - where we pretend like we are long lost soul mates and trade fiery words of sweet passion for each other.
But, that is completely optional. I am fine with a wholesome, platonic connection as well.
If you've reached this far, it's because of some happy confluence of my words, the Reddit algorithm and fickle fortune.
Our meeting seemed to dangle so much on fate, it's only fair we pay our dues. Give it our best shot. Do justice to the matchmakers of heaven - The directors of this romance.
I'm on the quest for a sweet companion. Someone with a good heart. Kind and empathetic - Like my own. The good person at the end of the romcom when the attractive antagonists lose their allure.
I love bonding with someone through heart to heart conversation. Through exchanging genuine care and concern. Through passionate exchange of our interests and hobbies. Through clockwork logging of our daily lives. Through mindful curiosity in each other's interests. Through mutual preference for glitter over gold, depth over deception, charm over carelessness and symphonies over superficiality.
The conversation starts out with pleasantaries and outward introduction of our demographic information - the most rudimentary. The most formal. Gradually, the outer layers crack and a mild joke cuts across the mask and we're another layer deep. Common or different tastes in art are the usual social custom for making new acquaintances.
Soon, our conversation flows like a roaring river eliciting deep intellectual and emotional responses from both of us.
We're discussing prized memories and cherished fantasies of the future. Chalking out hypotheticals and admiring the other's world views. Pretty soon, we're suddenly bare and feeling a strong bond by virtue of what we've shared.
Small silences punctuated the conversation. These silences were not awkward. It was a comforting waterfall of connection. It was the silence that followed from both of us knowing and enjoying the bond created by our hearts.
I loved the feeling of ending a conversation with a stranger on the first day with the feeling you've known them for years. I harboured romantic beliefs that such a connection must be the byproduct of a relationship in a previous life !
Here are a few things about me -

• I love staying at home.
• I do not drink or smoke and don't like going to noisy pubs. Although there are times when friends or office parties are conducted there, it's something I just tolerate.
• I love reading. I am interested in programming, Mathematics, Chess, Science, Psychology, Geopolitics, Space, Literature (fantasy particularly or late but I like all kinds) and Self Help (Productivity and Positive Psychology) - and a lot more ! I'm generally intellectually curious and a lifelong learner.
• I love following updates on things I'm passionate about and sharing them regularly. I love following podcasts and blogs and videos on them and sharing and discussing them. I also love explaining a new thing I have learnt as it helps me understand it better.
• I tend to be positive and look at the brighter side of life usually. But I also like sharing the problems I am going through and like listening to your's.
• I love animals. I have a lot of pets. I am also quite close to my family and am surrounded by my loving pets (5 dogs and 4 cats). I recovered from dengue last month and they were always around me all the time. It felt very good.
• I love putting in effort into messages and writing effortful messages and generally use complete words and not much abbreviations. I love crafting a symphony of text.
• I am usually quite calm and supportive and remember things that are told to me in conversation. I like getting emotional and expressive and am soft hearted and sensitive. I am also quite mature and enjoy talking to similarly mature people.

Do not reach out to me if you're just bored, did not read the post, don't like anything about me or my profile or don't know what you want or don't want to invest in having a good connection or don't even have the intention for talking for a few weeks. I am already quite hurt at repeated ghosting so please do not even reach out to me if you intend to ghost by tomorrow or next week.
Here's what I would like from us

• Genuine interest, care and empathy for each other - Making each other a priority though we are strangers at first. That's part of the excitement in jumping head first into this ! That does not mean we do not respect each other's busy schedules or commitments. I'm looking for something really genuine.
• Regular effortful messages, and remembering things the other says
• I love sharing or explaining anything new I learn, whether it is a blog post, podcast, video, book or a general thought that came through my mind. It would be great if you love listening to good explanations and are interested in such things. I'd also love it if you too like sharing blogs or podcasts on topics that you are interested in but it's not necessary.
• I also love self improvement and sharing progress or motivation as we are doing things towards our goals and dreams.
• I love voice calls as I love the sound of voice. I would love it if you are someone who is excited at having regular voice calls (2-3 times a week) or at least exchanging voice messages at times !
• We don't need to have similar taste in art (music, TV shows, movies). I am open to learning about new kinds of interests and new subcultures !
• Openly sharing our thoughts on the bigger ideas and arcs of life and also venting about the smaller frustrations
• Being excited at receiving messages from the other person every time we light each other's phones up.
• [Optional] Some online romance where we sometimes say things to each other that make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.

Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.
Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to.

Let me begin this post from a small excerpt from my essay because it exemplifies my feelings toward Invaders, as an anime, and as a series;

So what makes it special?
Well, you see. This anime is a lot more interesting than you might think. Not only from within the anime, but in real life as well. This is a story of overzealous ambition, unresolved injustice, and quiet resilience. A story penned by a talented writer who never got the spotlight...

Now, that's a bold statement I made for an anime aired a decade ago. An anime that barely anyone here have ever heard of. An anime that have been washed away from the sands of time. So, I know what you're thinking. Why?
What did I see in Invaders that the majority here didn't?
To answer that, let me start at its creation, from a subsidiary of a conglomerate, from a man in his late 20s, hailing from Chiba Prefecture, who have recently dipping into the world of light novel.
It's 2009. You have established yourself as a capable ​visual novelist, with works such as From Here and Beyond, Killer Queen and Tsukihime doujin works. You also had just debut your first novel, Ano Hibi Wo Mouichido two years ago, and you are ready to release another one under the same publisher of your previous book, HJ Bunko.
On March 1st 2009, the first volume of Invaders of the Rokujouma ( Rokujouma no Shinryakusha?!) was published. Unbeknownst to him, this series would unexpectedly change his trajectory forever. And ever since then, 47 VOLUMES, including two side stories, has been published continuously for 15 years! Yes, you heard me right, 15 years going! And no, it still hasn't been cancelled, nor gone into hiatus yet!
There is a part of me that still boggled for how long it still going for a light novel series, much lest in today's light novel climate. But I guess it made sense why HJ kept the book going as Invaders have sold 1.5 million copies in Japan alone as of April 2022. Not an impressive numbers compared to other, more established works, but it isn't an obscure LN that on one even heard of. Invaders is one of HJ Bunko's biggest seller in their library. Even more impressive when taken into account that it is made in-house (ie. not acquired from another source).
Hell, even the website promoting the anime is still up to this day!
So, why am I bringing this up? Well, it is about the same reason as to why I chose the word "adored" specifically. Because Invaders is special to me, not for its character-driven story or its cast of colorful characters, but for what it represent. This series dared to defy convention set by a genre devoid of such, and set out to do its own things, not necessarily to redefine it, but to tell a good story regardless of. And it suffered consequences as a result, but it makes itself stands out above the rest. A quiet resilience, so to speak.
Now, I am reserving the full retrospective review of the anime in-depth, and the stories behind the author, and the crew in my essay. But instead, here I will talk about the difficulties of recommending this anime to any first-time watchers. Partly due to being a harem anime (and the stigma that follows it), but also because I think it is suitable for subsequent rewatch to appreciate the slow-paced, two-parter story arc of each main girls, the character development, and the general vibe it gave, crafted by the hands of Shin Oonuma. The first-time watcher don't have that commitment and dedication like I do to see other than the surface level, even if you keep this post in mind. It's hard to discern if you will like or dislike it because the first episode will influence your perception of the series, even if you keep an open mind. I can't change that, nor forced you to watch from my perspective.
Lest I'll have to deal with people like him who misunderstood Invaders as nothing more than a fodder (and an excuse for their laziness). Oh, I am reserving my vitriol for that review specifically in my essay, and I'm not gonna hold back. In other words, Invaders is NOT your typical harem anime. It never tries to, it wants to march at its own pace, with its own feet. And I commend them for it. And to those that says otherwise, opinions be opinions and I have no control over it, but states it with facts, not bullshit.
I don't know what to do for its 10th anniversary, July 12th. Maybe a rewatch thread to expose more people to this anime that I cherished? Or releasing the essay on time, even though I have restarted it four times now? Hell, I'm still weary of posting this in the first place but this post here, that gave me a spark to write this. And a courage to do it. Heh, appropriate, isn't it?
~"~"~"~
I'm Ghost, and I proclaimed myself as a superfan of Invaders. I have watched this anime multiple times, dissecting every nook and cranny throughout its 12-episodes run. And it have opened my eyes to other animes that I would never gave a glance to. It teaches me to be appreciative for what it is, both the good and the bad, and to see it eyes to eyes without prejudice, without expectations. It isn't a masterpiece by any metric, but nor it is being a trainwreck. It has its strength, and it has its flaws. And it want to be seen for what it is, instead of what it isn't.
This is a story of strangers from all walks of life learn to open themselves, and relied upon each other.
This is a story that values appreciation of self, companionship and the media we love.
This is a story of Room 106 of Corona Apartment, and how a high school boy lives together with a ghost, a magical girl, an underground people, and an alien princess inside the small rokujouma.

This is Why I Adored Invaders of the Rokujouma!

Hello! Looking for Hermione GrangeSeverus Snape fanfic from a loong whilemago. Plot: Hermione is a romance writer. She has made lots of money writing romances that are eerily similar to the witches and wizards that we know. Specifically, Hermione's most famous novels have a main guy who is eerily similar to Severus Snape. Snape confiscates some books from students and realize the lead sound similar to him. Snape then looks for the author. Molly and Ginny are in on it as they are part of Hermione's 'team' in her publishing company. Hermione goes off to a beach house at Molly's encouragement to write one of her last novels in the series. Snape somehow finds out where the author is staying and finds out it is Hermioe. Thus, ensues Snape first demeaning Hermione to then wooing Hermione.
I have been on the search for this story. The site it was originally posted was shut down (Granger Enchanted) and I have asked for their help but no one knows it and I can't find it. Praying someone, anyone can find it here????
If not, thank you!