Demi lovato in cursive for face book

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

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.

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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)

So been out of the hobby due to RL for over a decade and noticed many tracks long gone, including the one I use to visit, Leisure Hours Raceway. I see they renamed/reopened a carpet track but zero interest in that.
Anyways, I heard word of an outdoopublic (club?) track in Thorton, IL. Bud's raceway? I don't do face book, so anyone have some information about this track?
I'm in the Joliet area, so other than the carpet track, anything dirt seems to be hours away unless something else shows up.

I'm about to hit 20 soon within two months and doing business administration in college which includes basics of little bit of everything (marketing, philosophy, psychology, management and so on..) I don't know what I'm doing in life, I get ideas in my head of things to do, I swear the day I think of them and the second day I see an AD Of my idea and whenever I have an idea, I have 0 knowledge how to execute it, how to start it because everything is so complicated and there's no straight answer to do anything. I tried reading books but I usually leave them off in the middle or after reading a few pages because sometimes I get academic pressures or I'm just overwhelmed what to do. I have a to do list in my phone and It's filled with things to do that when I look at it when I'm about to do something from it, I am literally blank what to do and how to execute. it's like I have been brainstorming but that's what has been holding me back. For example I had an idea to create a backpack of my own, went on internet and looked up some stuff but then I realise how will I even make one since I have 0$ in my bank, I take screenshot of important information I find but then I realise that I never opened any old screenshot which are important too which is also that late to open and My skills basically include decent English, basics of marketing. I honestly feel like I'm born to do something great but I don't know what and how and where to begin with. is this plan god's plan? I don't know but I clearly have given up atp that I wake up at 1pm and watch Netflix all day. still feel like I'm in that "child phase" and not an adult yet that I can't be bothered to think of this again but still had a regret so I am posting this. I'm sure there are more like me who are facing similar problem in life, yes if you go on internet and search how to make money you'll find millions of options but those millions of options are already in use enough by this big ass population that it's hard to find a space to fit in anymore unless you're a walking chatgpt who knows everything. How to be intelligent? I know it's stupid but there's no legit roadmap of it and since AI is evolving it's so risky to learn a skill because sooner or later AI will just do it better and learning how to use ai and learning how to do the skill both has huge difference and learning the skill is ofcourse more difficult which is risky imo. how do I improve my life? what can I change to be better everyday? I feel pressured and stressed with the thoughts I have and I wanna do something big but being overwhelmed makes me not do anything and sit alone. To be a great entrepreneur it's important to have a good lifestyle which mine lacks atm because I have given up so any tips are useful thank you.

Hi, I was getting back from work today and was tired cause I got my exams going on so I booked an uber with my girl. On my way back a police officer stopped the uber and flashed his torch on my face and said that you’re gonna get a ticket for not wearing a seatbelt. The office told the driver to stop the car on the side, the officer came after a couple mins and said told me to get my ids out, i was giving him my health card but he saw my class 7 driving license and told me that you should’ve known. Came back with a $167 ticket for not wearing a seatbelt in the backseat. I haven’t slept in four days cause of my exams been studying working and stressed but boy that woke me @up. So, I was just wondering if there was something I could do to take this off my plate. Anything will help cause $167 is not something that I’ll happily pay for sitting in the BACKSEAT OF AN UBER.

I (M42) and my spouse (F40)
I just had the shock of my life, and possibly the most dramatic upheaval imaginable. I'm scared, concerned and i wonder if anyone else has a similar experience. This is concerning my soon to be ex-wife. Not an easy read or even to type, but strap yourselves in. We were married for 13 years, had known each other for 23. She was a child that grew up in a war in her home country, and was effected by it more than she let on. During the last 4 years of our relationship, she started developing incredible anxiety and depression. She would become like an exposed nerve, and every perceived slight became something she would ruminate on for days at a time. We had some events in our marriage that were incredibly stressful. Our son was born prematurely, our daughter when she was born was also traumatic. She was always highly strung when i knew her. i was very much the calming influence to her and it was a role that developed in our dynamic. i would be her rock and safe place. Things started to change, and dramatically so. I travel with work and she would look after the kids. i would be home large parts of the year, but i would have to go away sometimes for 4 weeks at a time. When covid hit, we were both home for a better part of 18 months, and i started to notice things that concerned me. She began to become incredibly paranoid about neighbours. She was certain they were spyi ng on us somehow (even though they were 80, and not at all interested in us). This spiraled from the neighbours commenting on the length of our grass. It effected her, and she became fixated. Any new neighbours she instantly distrusted, and she believed they all spoke badly of her.none of it was true, but in her state of hypervigilance, she was misinterpreting signs. A strange look, or half glance was enough to make her feel unsafe and scared. This slowly devolved into her being fearful of being spied on in the shower, people who walked dogs the same time each morning past our house were doing it to spy on us, etc. I could see it was draining her, and making her very ill with stress so we discussed maybe going to therapy, which she did. During the years we were together, she had been on various anti-depressants to cope with depression. I always chalked it down to post natal depression and the stress being a mother brought to her, especially when i went away. She attended therapy, but would stop when it became uncomfortable. She then opened up to me one day regarding it. It turns out that she was molested as a child by a family friend, and had buried it. that coupled with seeing her childhood friend die from an explosion (which i knew about) had effected her more than we knew. The therapy seemed to make it worse, and since that point things took a massive nose dive. She was an incredibly bubbly, happy and cheerful person to everyone. or so i thought. She would sometimes drop the mask at home, and i could see the turmoil developing. I hate to admit it, but i was blind to it for many years. she had masked it from the very beginning. Her paranoia got worse and worse. she came off of her antidepressants and started using weed vape pens to be able to cope with the incredible anxiety. I watched her drift apart from me over the last two years, her kindness towards me vanishing and almost a resentment towards me. She would complain about the new house we had bought and that she hated it because of the neighbours. We discussed moving, but she realised in her more lucid times that the issue would follow her whereever she went. The last year together she would speak about moving to another country. I said i would, but after my parents, who are old, passed. i didn't want them to not see our children in their final years. We had grown apart, she had this strange push-pull dynamic with me. One day she'd love me and be this caring person, the next cold and distant. I tried incredibly hard to pull us back together whilst dealing with her delusions of paranoia that were still ongoing, but the more i tried (and at some points i was quite combative and forceful) to get her to communicate, the more she pulled away. There was hardly any intimacy, which i yearned for and would comment on. She would initiate it sometimes, but for me, i'm ashamed to say, i complained about it a lot. She would have sex with me on occasion, and then if we argued later say "i didn't really want sex, it was like rape". This hurt me to my core, and made me bitter about how we were. The arguments became worse and worse. She started resenting me for trapping her. That was her reality. i had trapped her in the relationship. It wasn't true, but she was upset i travelled with work and could escape when she couldn't. It was never escape for me, i travelled because i had to. Her and the kids were all i wanted to be with. Travel to me was a chore.
Slowly she withdrew more. The more i tried to help and talk, the more she withdrew. All the time she was still paranoid, and now believed the neighbours were spying on her with cameras in the garden. the "cameras" were garden lights.
After three years of constant paranoia and her anxiety, it was starting to effect me. We couldn't go out in the area as she hated the neighbours. Yet to their faces she was bubbly and happy, smiley and almost overly kind. Yet when we were alone, the mask would slip and all her thoughts about them would spill out. Our social life started to be affected,
Anything i said was misunderstood or taken in such a way that i was insulting her. If i said she was silly for thinking in a certain way, i was calling her stupid. Anytime i tried to logic something out with her regarding the neighbours (for example she believed they were watching her shower) it was dismissed. I actually showered and told her to ask if she could see me from the garden. She was confused when she saw she couldn't.
The delusions became worse, and she became more and more paranoid. The textured glass in the bathroom was the wrong way around in her eyes, so people could see in. The motion activated light at the bottom of the garden was a camera, for sure. things like this.She withdrew more and more. I had to go away on a work trip, and the day before i left she asked for a divorce. I was hurt, but said "we can talk about it when i get home" when i arrived at the destination i was working across the world, i messaged her. No response. I tried multiple times until eventually i got a text "The kids will be taken away from me, and i will be sent back to my home country" I rang my father who lived very close to us to find out what was happening.
She had asked him to take her to the police station. She said to report the neighbours for spying, which she did try to do. they obviously didn't listen. She was taken to hospital by my father as she was having a mental breakdown and behaving strangely. I told my boss i had to fly home as something was happening. he booked me the earliest flight and i flew back. I was arrested from the plane. She had accused me of Rape, Control and coercion and ABH. Things i would never do. I was arrested, questioned and told not to go back to my home or to contact her. In one day i lost everything. I was in shock and was an emotional wreck. Worst of all i was concerned and scared for my wife and kids. She blamed me for her emotional state. said i had caused everything and had abused her constantly for years. After a week of staying at my friends house, social services got involved as the kids were missing school. It turns out she was taking the kids to hotels because she was terrified of staying at home. The kids told me later that "mummy thinks men are after her" instead of telling any authorities this, she said it was because she was scared of me. Social services believed everything she said. I was under investigation for the allegations, although not charged. The investigations were ongoing for three months, and in that time i wasn't allowed to contact her at all. Unfortunately in my fear i contacted her repeatedly. She had me arrested for harassment, and i was charged and convicted. I wasn't ever abusive in the texts, but i did contact her a lot.
I secured access to my children through a rushed family court order. I also placed a block on her leaving the country without seeking my permission with the children, as she had taken my passport details to apply for the kids passports without my knowledge. I did this due to her erratic behaviour and i knew she wasn't stable. My father thought i'd over-reacted, but my ex was so good at masking she hid how she really felt even to him. Oscar level masking.
Looking back i realise how bad it was. She ran from her home country at 18 and always ran. she always wanted to move jobs if something went wrong. She would cut off long term friends in an instant if she felt any pressure form them. Her first instinct would always be to flee anything. Any littlle insignificant thing or slight would become something she'd chew over for weeks, often applying the worst case scenario that would then become her reality. The truth was she was constantly afraid. I think at the end i became something she was afraid of too. My determination to keep us together and keep her from falling apart became too much for her. I wasn't always kind and was exasperated a lot. I was too demanding on someone that was exhausted, anxious and clearly unwell. Unfortunately i didn't realise this until too late. I still see the children, but have zero contact with her. She filed a restraining order due to the harassment conviction which i will adhere to. I'm currently going through family court again to secure further rights. She applied for full custody and has said some very terrible untruthful things at court to almost destroy me and remove me from her life. I'm a broken man because of it all, but staying strong for the kids.
I hope there will be some sort of resolution in the future, but i realise that she's scared of me now as she is scared of everything. She told me near the end that she trusts nobody. This broke my heart. The court on the last visit realised that something wasn't right. they have ordered a investigation into our family, and it will hopefully be reported in June when we go back to court. Her medical documents have been re-visited and statements taken. My father witnessed some very strange behaviour and has reported it. We just have to see what happens. She has requested to sell the property we lived in, and i'm slowly watching the life we built implode. She also has asked for the order that stipulates the need for permission to leave the country lifted. June will be the crunch time.

I’m trying to recall the name of this book I remember really enjoying as a kid. I wondered if anyone else out there could help me think of the name. I’m honestly not sure if it was popular at all or if it was pretty obscure. I’m 25 and probably read it when I was around middle school age. So, I think it was like a young adult fiction novel. I can only remember really random pieces of it, and I remember these certain parts very vividly but can’t put them all together to think of the right thing to search. I believe the front cover was like a dark foggy looking forest, maybe with a bear?, and I think? there was a girl’s, the main character’s, face on it.. This girl lived in the woods I believe by herself and I think she was special somehow like had powers or something but not like a super hero book or whatever if that makes sense, more like Native American legend vibes it had. The most vivid scene I remember is there was bear stalking or chasing her in the woods and I remember it being super spooky. I think at one point in the book she comes across a village or some community in the woods maybe. I tried google search like “book about girl in woods chased by bear” or “book about girl living in the woods” but all books like “girl in the woods” or “girl in the forest” come up and it definitely was not a name like that. The name was different like unique going along with that Native American-y vibes. Maybe this rings a bell for someone! It’s on the tip of my tongue and it’s killing me to remember.

The dungeon master described the party stepping through the wizard's portal into the plane of Elemental Chaos. "Before you lies a tempestuous sea of ever-changing terrain and clashing elements. The portal has opened onto a planetoid floating in the sea of shifting energies. Standing a ways away is a giant humanoid figure that seems to be made out of some of the same energies."
"Giant?" Sara asked?
"Yeah, it's like fifty feet tall. Looking upon its face makes your gut wrench as its face is a pool of ever-churning distorted energies. Make a save versus fear."
The players snatched up dice bags. Twenty-sided dice were rolled all around the table, but Mary, sitting to the right of Sara, noticed that Sara hesitated.
"What did you call these things again?" Sara asked. "Primordials? I didn't really imagine that they'd be so ugly or terrifying... or big."
"Oh, fine," the dungeon master responded. "Ambriel the rogue can have advantage on this check. What is your roll?"
Sara picked up an extra dice, tossed them into the bowl on the table and squinted at them in the dim light of the basement. "I got an eight." she said, frowning.
"Sorry, Ambriel and anyone else that got below a ten is afraid of the figure and will be at a disadvantage for initiative. The figure lets out a scream that sounds like an avalanche in a hurricane. Roll initiative!"
"Nineteen!" the boy across the table said. "Fifteen!" said another after rolling some dice. "I have a plus two, and I only got a twelve." said Mary.
"What about you Sara?" the dungeon master asked.
"Um, I don't want to fight it. Can I try talking to it?"
"I guess so," said the dungeon master, frowning. "What will you try saying to it?
"Well first," Sara started, "Is it at its house?"
The dungeon master and the boys across the table erupted into laughter. The dungeon master managed to stop laughing and reply. "These things don't have houses. They just live outside in the chaos."
"Oh." Sara looked disappointed. "I thought they would have houses." and then quieter. "Maybe a family."
The dungeon master laughed again. "What are you going to say to it?"
"I guess I'll say: 'Greetings friend! Do you know which way it is to the Dark Wizard Malik's tower?'"
The dungeon master laughed yet again. "It doesn't seem to understand what you're saying. It screams again and then attacks. Do you have your initiative number yet?"
Mary had been glaring at the dungeon master. He finally noticed her expression and slouched down, a sheepish look crossing his face as if he knew he was going to be in trouble.
Sara frowned, rolled her dice, and then stated "Six."
The party proceeded to fight with the primordial and Sara participated but wasn't really enjoying the situation. After the beast fell the party raced to loot its corpse.
"What did we find?" the boy across the table asked eagerly.
"Nothing, of course!" the dungeon master announced with some glee in his voice. "The primordial's body has evaporated and merged with the endless chaos around you."
"Well that's at least one thing you got right." Sara said.
"What do you mean?" Mary asked.
"Oh, forget it." Sara responded.
The end of the combat signaled the end of the evening since it was already past eight. The friends scooped dice and character sheets back into their bags, cleaned up the snacks, and said their goodbyes for the evening. Sara walked up the stairs and into the front yard with the other two boys. Chris's mom was there to pick up him and Tyler. She waved at them as they drove away and then started toward her own house just down the street.
The walk was only five minutes, if she took her time, and she had walked this street a hundred times before. She was enjoying the breeze and the crisp night air and didn't notice when the footsteps behind her started. When she noticed them she'd picked up her pace but they grew uncomfortably close. Sara spun around and was faced with a figure in the shadows behind her. It was only a few feet away but she couldn't make out a face.
"What do you want?" She asked the shadow. It did not respond. It did, however, step forward into the glow of the nearby street light. Still, its form appeared like a pitch black hole in the world; a torn place in space the shape and size of a man. The shadow reached toward Sara and she knew that this was an undead being. It had been hoping it could claim the life force of a human this evening; to pull her into the shadow realm and keep her there till she had faded away and become another shadow. Unfortunately for the shadow, she was not a victim that could be claimed so easily.
Sara dropped her book back and grabbed the shadow's arm, glancing down the street to make sure it was clear. Then she released her human disguise and pulled the shadow closer. She stared into the colorless void where its eyes should have been and the shadow stared back into the ever-changing distortion that her face had become. Lightning arced across Sara's skin that now appeared to be made of a roiling mass of stone and waves of pure water.
Sara's outline blurred and her humanoid form faded almost completely, leaving a cloud of elements ever fighting for position, yet she didn't let go of the shadow. The shadow was in a panic now, struggling and desperately trying to free itself from her grasp, to no avail. Sara pulled the shadow inside her cloud and it was ripped and torn by every element until it was gone in just a moment.
Sara concentrated for a moment and reached a human hand out of her cloud of chaos, and picked up her book bag. She formed an arm and shoulder to put the bag on, then a head and some feet and finally squeezed the last bit of her cloud into the shape of a green jacket. "Was she wearing a blue jacket before or a green one?" she asked herself. "I guess it doesn't really matter." she answered, and changed the jacket to blue.
***************************
Sara, Chris and Tyler walked up the stairs out of the basement, leaving Mary and the dungeon master still sitting at the table. The dungeon master was shuffling some papers, his mind racing with ideas for the next session. Mary stared at him, arms crossed and after a moment she finally spoke. "That was mean, Brian."
Brian looked up from his papers. "What?" he asked defensively with a worried look on his face.
"The primordial we met tonight in the game. That wasn't cool." She mocked an imitation of Brian: "It just lives outside in the chaos. Its sooooo ugly and scary." She crossed her arms again and stared daggers at him. Brian was silent and just looked down at his lap.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought we were supposed to act like we didn't know..."
"You know she's not going to keep playing with us if you keep being an asshole, right?"
Brian frowned and was quiet.
"Don't you like her playing with us?" Mary continued. "She's a way better rogue than Johnathan was. If she leaves and Johnathan finds out we have room at the table then we might have to let him join the party again. Is that what you want?"
Brian shuddered. "No. I do like her playing with us. She is a pretty awesome rogue." They sat in silence for a minute. "I'll make it better next week. I have some ideas."
"Good." Mary stood up and walked to the stairs. "We'd better not be fighting a changeling or a dragon next week." she said with a laugh.
The outside air was cool and crisp; the twilight had faded already and the streetlights were on. Chris and Tyler had left already; their mom always picked them up. Sara lived at the end of the street. Mary looked down the street toward Sara's house and near the other end of the street she saw Sara, almost home. Mary shivered as she watched as a shadow approached Sara. Mary then watched as Sara discorporated into a chaotic mass of lightning arcs and flame over a roiling mass of rocks and water. In another moment she had absorbed the shadow and it was gone. Those shadows gave her the creeps and she was glad another one was gone. Mary's parents had told her many times how they were lucky to have the Smiths living on their street. "Good girl." Mary whispered as she watched Sara pick up her book bag and put on her human disguise for the rest of her walk home. Mary walked back into the house.
***************************
Sara reached the end of the street, hopped up the porch stair to her front door and walked inside, locking the door behind her. Inside, her mother and father were lounging on the sofa watching a reality TV show together. Her dad waved a friendly tendril of water at her and turned his attention back to the show. Sara's mom floated up and across the room, her pattern of fire and stone indicated concern.
"Is everything okay honey?"
"Well" Sara started slowly. "In tonight's game we finally met a primordial, but the party just killed it. The dungeon master thought it looked scary." Sara dismissed her human disguise, released a small puff of smoke and slouched a bit. "Are they ever going to accept us for who we are?"
Sara's mom wrapped her in a hug. "Your friends do like you dear. It doesn't matter that you don't look like they do."
"Yeah, I guess you're right mom. Thanks." She brightened up a bit, her waves of water crashing in a happy whirlpool. She started up the stairs to her room but halfway up she turned around and said "Oh yeah, I got another shadow on the way home." Her mom, who had already returned to the sofa, crashed a tiny avalanche of stone in approval and then returned to watching the show.

Let me start by saying I’ve always fought this battle on my own and never talked to a doctor. Stupid. I really don’t want to take any medications but I think it’s time to face reality before I lose everything.
Anyone who reads it all and can give any input I really do appreciate. I honestly don’t always trust doctors and big pharma so looking for advice from people with experience in these drugs.
-I’m 30 years old and have legit been battling with my brain/body for as long as I can remember. I own a construction company. Moved into a house that is gutted and needs to be fully renovated (with basically me doing all the work. Like literally everything from plans, budget, and the actual work.). So I say this because a lot of people claim they are busy or have a lot to do. Trying not to sound arrogant but I actually have almost an impossible amount of work I do. Business, newborn, house remodel, and the list goes on. I am obsessed with building, designing, engineering, creating things, and being a craftsman.
-Since I was young I battled with not being able to sleep properly (diagnosed with sleep apnea). And my brain is like this machine that moves at a million miles a minute and I honestly can’t control it all the time. I have huge goals and work from the time I open my eyes till whatever hour I crash. If I am completely sober with no caffeine, nicotine, etc. I cannot process my thoughts. It’s a non stop wave of business ideas, work to be done, work coming up, customer relations, networking, materials and job planning, with always a clear view of my vision for the long term. When this happens I become immobile. I will sit on my phone to space out to quiet the thoughts. Procrastinate and refuse to start the work I know needs to be done now. I oversleep and feel beat and tired all day regardless of how much or how little I sleep. I simply can’t do anything.
-I am cursed with intelligence. I’m not saying this as a positive thing necessarily. Someone close to me is a psychologist who diagnoses autism and they believe after some testing I might be on the spectrum. Take it for what it is but scored 130 on two different types of IQ tests. I don’t tolerate things like small talk, I am fairly quiet (when sober), I do not want to make friends or talk to people who have nothing to offer me (business owners/entrepreneurs, people who are masters of their craft, even people who are considered dreamers and have ideas and goals) are all people I will attach myself too because I find they are the only ones I can have a real conversation with. Relationships are very difficult because they tend to think I’m emotionless. I just have a very direct grasp on my feelings and I can handle them. - I cannot sit on a computer and be productive without an amphetamine. I cannot read a book and retain a single word of it. I’m reading but my thoughts are elsewhere.
Does adhd fit?

Prologue

Hello and welcome to my post. I will subdivide this into two large parts. One will cover my thoughts, feelings, my hopes and dreams...While the other will tell you the specifics of how I pass the time, what topics interest me, what passions do I posses. I believe that at the end of this leap into my inner world, you dear reader, will have all the necessary information to judge whether we are compatible or not.

Part I
I am writing this in the hopes of finding something that I lack. Lately I have had this feeling, this tinge of melancholy within the dephts of my being, this yearning to find a kindred spirit, another Soul, much like mine, to form a bond with. Perhaps Loneliness is the right word for what is bothering me, but to use it seems to carry with it a connotation of ungratefulness. Ungratefulness for the people that I do have in my life, although none of them, of course, have the connection to me that I seek here.

I have found it increasingly necessary to seek in this Life a sort of purity of thought. What I mean is, I have began to undestand what ideas and concepts are ultimately compatible with my inner most Self, ergo what guidelines I have to follow to feel the most whole. Naturally I have likewise realised what I cannot add to my Self and what I will henceforth reject with all the power that I posses.

With this new context in mind, I now follow on the path of self improvement. I will now begin to mold my Self into my perfected idea of how the Self should be. This is certainly a significant undertaking, one that will not be easy to follow through on but one that I ultimately have to do. To me such context is essential. It is akin to a Guiding Star shining in the night. I will follow this Star for without it I am lost in the vast Darkness.

Looking back at my life, it was suboptimal, especially if one compares the way it molded me to how I will now mold myself. I suppose I must look on with a hint of regret at all that time which one might consider to be lost. Still... I try to stave off such decisively negative interpretations, after all, I have ultimately came to these conclusions. That means that somewhere along the line I had to have picked up on enough of such ideas for them to become so cemented in my consciousness. Well, either that or I was always like this, but in that case I can at least thank my life up to this point for not being able to supress such manifestations of my inner most Self.

To add to the topic of my life, I must admit that not all the battles have yet been won, not all the Demons vanquished, not every Mountain climbed. I want you to keep such things in mind when deciding whether or not to approach me. Many will shy away, I undestand that much, but the pursuit of true Companionship is just another such battle. Having said all that I do believe that being able to overcome hurdles together carries with it a certain appeal. That is to say, what's the fun in joining once the Game is already over?

I don't shy away from such challenges, perhaps to a fault. Certain troubles that I faced in the past carry with them a long shadow over my current health and well being. Still, I intend to change little in this regard other than the proficiency with which I will clash the current of my Will against the cliffs of Life.
Part II
In this part of my post I will tell you about my interests and hobbies, I will try to be thorough, commonality in this regard is rather important to build a relationship
History. I have had an interest in history for almost a decade now, it started back in school and developed from there. Well, now that I think about it one could argue that it started even earlier in my life as I liked watching the odd historic documentary or film aired on television but it wasn't regular back then, I never actively sought it out. I am mostly interested in European history in the period between the 18th-20th century but I sometimes branch out to other time periods and other parts of the world. I watch various channels related to history and read articles and sometimes books. I have recently got a few books on the German revolution of 1848/1849 and a historical magazine on the Thirty Years' War. Besides that I try to visit museums sometimes.
Literature. Especially old novels. I like to immerse myself in the Worlds of these books, I tend to read them while listening to thematically fitting music and take my time with them. One time you are following a troubled Youth in his quest for spiritual understanding of the world, another you see the aged and decrepit Doctor gambling his very Soul on the promises of abtaining satisfaction in earthy pleasures, then again your olfaction notices the most pleasant scent known to man even as the one eminating it has the appearance of a revolting Frog. These and many other stories open up to you once you decide to set foot into the literary World.
Languages. I know three, with one being a bit rusty. I am currently working intently on strengthening it. I believe that if I continue to apply myself in this regard then I should be able to finally conquer it. What language am I working on? Well, if you were to stack all the major works in it they would be as tall as a house... It is fun to go through different works in multiple languages, the same goes for film, games and such.
Games. I recently played Cyberpunk 2077. Well as recently as I played any major story centric game. Now that the dust has settled and the bugs mostly removed...It's not that bad. The main questline at least. Besides that I tried Fallout 76 (Very average, I'm dissapointed with what they made the "RPG" system) and I might give Deus Ex Manking Divided another spin (since it's somewhat similar to Cyberpunk when it comes to its aesthetics). Dark Souls is one of my favorite series, I still haven't beaten Elden Ring though. When it came out I wasn't in the right mindset to invest a hundred hours into it, with all those bosses and difficult locations. I think I'll only consider playing it if I am streaming it to someone. I am generally interested in either streaming games or having the person I am talking to stream them to me. To be specific I mean streaming to a single person while being on call. Besides that I'm a big fan of Paradox strategy games, especially Europa Universalis IV and Heats of Iron IV, I tend to only play single player since I find multiplayer with many people to be rather stressful but on the other hand I have nothing against a co-op game. I'm not the best player though, despite the ammount of hours I have in them. Another great game I would mention would be Dragon's Dogma. A very underrated RPG. I recently beat it again and it was an atmospheric and interesting experience. It is one of those games that feel like they have an endless ammount of depth and constant new secrets to discover.
Anime and Manga. In recent times my interest in them has waned but I still watch the occasional series here and there. Like Cyberpunk Edgerunners (Which I found to be rather mediocre) and the very good first season from the new arc of Bleach. Some of my favourite series include: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Death Note, Fate;Zero, Psycho Pass, Code Geass and Attack on Titan. I wouldn't mind if you were to introduce me to some new series, maybe based on the ones I mentioned. My favourite Manga is Berserk which I still follow, althought I am still not certain on the direction that the new author is taking. I suppose it really is a matter of contention whether a somewhat (or considerably warped) vision is better than an unfinished work. One could argue that a few novels remain unfinished and possess a macabre appeal to them as such.
Music. Classical music has a very special place in my heart. A few of my favourite pieces would be: Clair de Lune, Nocturne Op. 9 No.2, Devil's Trill Sonata, Danse Macabre, Valse Sentimentale, Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92: II. Alegreto (by Beethoven) and Suite from Swan Lake, Op. 20a: I. Scene. Moderato. There are more but these ones always invoke something in me when I listen to them. Besides Classical I also enjoy listening to Synthwave, old Western pop and J-pop, both modern and from the 20th century.
Esotericism. I am interested in things spiritual, mystical, magical and esoteric. I have read religios texts, magical grimoires, introductions to various schools of thought. It is interesting to me.
Epilogue
Hopefully I was able to cast the spotlight upon my inner World in a clear and unequivocal manner. I feel the need to add to the aforementioned that I am rather introverted, which means that I tend to dislike large social gatherings. I managed to condition myself to be able to endure the presense of large groups of people but it isn't something that I would seek out in most cases. Besides that I am neurodivergent and suffer from certain issues with mental health. I have to take medication to keep myself under control. They work well enough but certain days are harder than others. I respect the struggle that others have with mental health but in the context of a relationship I have my limits, no one with BDP for instance. I am also not looking for anything casual. I understand than one cannot demand depth and meaning from a conversation with an absolute stranger, that is akin to trying to build a sand castle right before the waves strike but I ask at least that you enter with a mindset that this might become something of significance. I also do want to say that I am completely Monogamous. My preference? The sickly, pale, intellectual who watches rain droplets slide down the window in Autumn. Lastly, if I enjoy the company of a person I tend to not want to let them go.
Thank you for taking the time to read my post and have a good day. I ask that you send a DM instead of a chat and that you give the English translation of my title as your own.
Goodbye...Or perhaps untill we meet again

I had a couple uncomfortable dreams, and was unable to stay asleep. I woke up at every hou40 minutes. If I managed to sleep past 15-20. I was dehydrated as well, because I ate too much flour right before going to bed. My first dream was about being watched.
There was probably a dream before that. After that one, I dreamt about a unveiled claim that billy corgan was molested by his mom. I was with my parents, sitting in the car by myself. A guy walked past who I acted like was serj tankian, even though he looked nothing like him. He had round features and looked almost mexican. Later, I had another dream where I had the awareness that my dreams were important. For a spiritual reason. Some godly, reason.
In the next dream, I was in a strange building with my family members. There was halloween decoanimatronics near the entrance or exit door. It felt like a ride as we slowly approached the walkway. I gracefully did so, probably trying to not look up at the animatronics. It's usually a reaper, constantly. Once we all were getting ready to leave, I carried a handful of things/candy. We walked outside off the porch, and I saw a younger version of my nephew. He took a piece of candy that was mine and ate it. I punched him square in the face. I vaguely remember seeing baby blankets. Before we walked outside. Everyone stood around, including my nephew at his current age. He was only a toddler. Around this time, we were in a room with some old ladies and boomers. Astrology was relevant for some reason, since I brought it up, likely. 'Leos are excessive, aries are misjudged as mean, and sags are suspicious and paranoid. About the people around them, their friends. About the world..' I paused before describing Sagittarius, feeling uneasy around the old lady who was listening to me. My mom stood at my side, probably bored or indifferent. Just like the lady seemed. She was a bitch; I could feel how much she appeared indifferent towards me. She must've been a sagittarius.
In the other side of the room, I was looking at a packet of paper that was laid in the filing drawer. It talked about the different eras of victorian houses. I saw it mentioned, 'fake doors' under victorian. That would make my house victorian, maybe. It's from the early 1900s, so just barely is it real victorian. I do not have fake doors in my house at all. I was picturing the banister on my stairs that doesn't have a lid that detaches. It's molded into the classic shape. A old lady walked over to me, pushing the filing cabinet away. Bitch, I was reading that.
At home, I went up into my bedroom. Cats were sleeping in it. A black kitten looked up at me, precious, as I tossed a cord across the floor, behind/above him. It was a cord with a plastic kitten arm on the end, like it was supposed to go to a handheld device. I thought of a gameplay controller that you plug into the tv. But it was too thin and obviously made to inject into something else. It had been laying on another kitten.
I took notice of a spider that was crawling on my bookshelf. It was white and pregnant. On one of my books, there was a spider sack on it. It was little. I don't know what happened to I assume was a second spider sack. A book with a white cover got my attention, because black specks ran over every inch of it. My little brothers had came into the room, before the infestation happened. Behind me was a rubber tub full of stuff with fabric on the top. My cats were sleeping on it. I saw my siamese in the room as well, looking at me. I woke up, itchy and scared. I hate this dream, and I also happen to hate spiders. Obviously, I have someone fake in my life. A domineering female/mother figure. Since it was both cats and spiders.

You're gonna lurk this page let's be real so let's get acquainted. the back of you're mind wonders what those galaxies and roses really go towards but you send them anyway cause you see a needy boy. The thing is you don't see a needy boy, you see a thirty something year old man that one point had a family. You see a thirty something year old man with his second account because he gave tossing44 to a hacker. You see a thirty something year old man that abandoned his job for no real reason and masking it under the thin veil of "the adventure". You see a MAN who is an expert at making you feel sorry for him.
You see trolls such as myself in the chat yes, you've probably blocked me once or twice even but you notice how the trolls talk about the same thing and ask the same questions.. basic questions at that. Why did you leave the job in Edmonton? What happened to the camp job you talked about the entire way to Toronto? What happened to the music grants that supposedly sent him to Edmonton in the first place? Why are you walking okay sometimes but you're ribs hurt when you need money? Why did the original Supports that got him to Toronto leave him?
He just talked about how this subreddit is here to talk about his days in Vancouver, and I personally can not give a shit about it. Boohoo I did coke, Im more pissed about how you lie about saying you physically cant take drugs but lie about it like tonight. But take a step back and think why would he think that is the issue when the issue is multiple things? This subreddit doesn't ONLY post from the Vancouver days. The first Tik Tok I posted was from him in Saskatchewan.
Josh, ik you're gonna read this. You have time to go live for money so you have the time to read this, especially with that 30 hour train ride you got paid for. hope the hangover isn't that bad and you make the train but the live tonight pretty much confirmed you lurk. I can't speak for others here but I personally don't wish harm upon you. I liked you and was a fan, was able to see us getting a beer or something but now I hate you lmao, It pisses me off seeing people send their money to you when YOU know YOU LIE. It pisses me off seeing you play gullible people into thinking you are so hurt when in reality you're just waiting for the cheque to drop. YOU know YOU won't do anything to help anyone with that 50k mr mental health guy, prove me wrong. Treaty 6 is getting that cow and plow soon (you've talked about you're rez before also on tik tok) don't drink it all up like you did with youre PCDs. I just want you to tell the truth and stop masking mental illness as an excuse anytime the going gets tough or someone hurts you're feelings. If you're man enough to have a kid you're man enough to take the heat from you're lies... But I guess you know nothing about either.
You aren’t an advocate for mental health if anything you're the DO NOT DO book. And if it is actually mental health, get the fucking help you need. "baddie battles" isn't a good substitute for prozac. 70 dollars for a blanket is a slap in the face for mental health. You say "indigenous people gotta stick together" but you wouldn't listen to an elder if he came to battle you on tik tok.
Tiny seen it tonight, D seen it earlier, you have beef with Jordan L now but not before you got the cash And now people are seeing it everyday and you wonder why more and more trolls are coming. Soon I hope you see it. You raised enough to get back to Winnipeg in an alley. Congratulations on that you lil bitch, good thing you got ur mod to fall back on over there. Hopefully they don't kick you out when they see the slip up but I not gonna be surprised if its "Rasing money for a ticket to Edmonton" soon enough. The trolls are coming in hotter, you're slipping up more trying to avoid the spiral and it's becoming harder to sell yourself. Sooner or later another bridge or 2 will burn. You've started a cycle Joshy and it's worked but people are catching on.
P.S I was ready for that call lil bro ;)
TLDR: Fuck Love Fighter and those who fund, support or enable him. Literally need to watch tik toks from a year ago to get a full story, do some research before you send that galaxy.

I don’t even know where to start. From the first day that I met my in-laws a decade ago, they have been entitled, demanding and generally very difficult and frustrating to deal with. I love my husband very much, and we very rarely have problems or fights unless it’s concerning his parents and his sister.
Some back story, my husband and his mom are Eastern European, while my husband’s stepdad and I are Chinese, and we all live in China. His half-sister is mixed European and Chinese. I can barely believe that he’s related to these people: he’s independent, competent, helpful, generous and logical, whereas they are none of these things.
Even before we got married, my in-laws constantly asked me to do favors for them, and I think they treat me like a servant. They’ve even ruined two of my birthdays in a row with some demanding tantrums over stupid shit, and my MIL tried to commandeer my wedding, she even called it her wedding.
One of the problems is that both of them are terrible communicators: my MIL, despite having lived in China for three decades, does not speak Chinese, whereas I don’t speak her mother tongue. Her English is quite poor and she constantly misunderstands me when we try to communicate in English. Even something as simple as organizing a meet up is riddled with frustrations because she has absolutely no communication skills, and she doesn’t even know how to use GPS or other basic Chinese apps. She is the most helpless person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. She hasn’t had a job since she came to China and she is incompetency personified.
On top of that she is snobby, she looks down on most Chinese people and whenever we socialize she is always complaining about something or someone, and she thinks all Chinese people are out of scam her. She lives in a total expat bubble and does not understand most Chinese customs or way of life. My FIL, ironically being Chinese himself, is also a terrible communicator and has a bad case of untreated adult ADD. He’s always spewing bullshit conspiracies at me, or putting me down, or going on about some complete non-sequitur. They’re both demanding and entitled, and if you help them with one favor, they’ll ask for ten more immediately, they’re both total choosing beggars.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was that about 2 years ago, my sister-in-law was getting ready to apply for university in the US. Since I had gone to college in the US, they both asked my husband to make me help her with her college application and SATs. I didn’t want to do it, because I knew there would be communication problems and misunderstandings galore, but after much pleading from my husband, acquiesced in the end.
From the get-go, it was a total nightmare. They both knew absolutely nothing about the US university application process, but whenever I tried to explain it they both talked over me and didn’t listen at all. On top of that they were delusional about my sister-in-law’s grades. She is a mediocre student at best and has absolutely no hobbies or extracurricular interests other than video games, and she acts bratty and immature for her age. Despite this, they thought she could get into Colombia or NYU. Eventually I found them an agency to help them, but as usual my MIL thought the agency was out to scam her and started complaining about them to me and my FIL right away. He, being the entitled twat that he is, told me he was going to sue them for not delivering, even though he didn’t even bother to read the contract he signed with them, and told me to read it, and resolve the situation otherwise he will sue.
On top of this, my SIL, being lazy and spoiled, hated going to them and took it out on me personally by being excessively rude to me everyone I saw her. She would often roll her eyes at me, complain about the agency loudly, or otherwise pretend that I didn’t exist. She has also taken to texting me 40 messages in a row on WeChat in the middle of the night, demanding help with her college application. My MIL witnessed some of this behavior and said nothing. I got so fed up that I started to avoid them completely, and quit our group chats. After a few months they realized I was avoiding them, and started complaining about me and badmouthing me to my husband for “disrespecting” them.
Last September, my husband forced me to go to a dinner with them, after I had managed to avoid them for half a year. My MIL and SIL were both incredibly rude to me and cold-shouldered me all night. I was very upset and honestly didn’t want to ever see them again. Around Thanksgiving they decided it was time to “forgive” me, and I was forced into another dinner with them. The favor-asking started again after this, this time my MIL wanted help changing the wallpapers in her house, which I had done for them before. I was honestly beyond done with them at this point and never wanted to help them with anything again, but as usual my husband begged and pleaded. After I helped them, my husband told his mom to text me to thank me and tell me she was satisfied with the result. Instead she texts (the first time she has texted me in over a year) that she wants to change the wallpaper in every room of their house and wants me to find her new wallpaper books, and help them some more with this.
At this point I am furious. I honestly don’t ever want to see or talk to them again. They never apologized for any of their behavior, never even realized how awful they have been to me over the years, and have gotten comfortable enough to demand favors again. I want my husband to tell them that it’s not okay to treat me this way, and how their past behavior hurt my feelings, but my husband thinks his mom is too sensitive, will misunderstand, and doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. I also offered a face-to-face meeting with her to tell her myself how offensive I find her and my FIL and SIL’s behavior to be, but my husband thinks that her English isn’t strong enough for this and thinks I will offend her and she will misunderstand as usual.
I don’t know what to do at this point, all I know is I can’t stand any of them and can barely bring myself to be civil at this point. I feel allergic to them. I’ve talked about this endlessly to my husband, but he thinks I’m overreacting and that they aren’t that bad to me. He thinks I should just take it. He works for my FIL, and he’s used to them badgering him to help them with basic things. He thinks it’s okay that they treat me like an extension of him, but I’m not okay with it anymore.
I cut ties with my own mother a decade again for abuse, controlling behavior and treating me like a servant. I honestly can’t believe I’m experiencing this with my in-laws all over again, it triggers me like nothing else. I don’t want to leave my husband, and we have a very happy life together otherwise. He’s such a good person, but he’s also caught in the middle. I know my thoughts and complaints about his family hurts him a lot.
I’ve tried searching online for advice on how to deal with entitled and demanding in-laws, but I can’t find any specific to my case. They don’t interfere with my life otherwise, they only reach out when they want me to do something for them. I feel like they only value me for what I can do for them, and I’m hurt that my husband thinks his mom’s feelings are more important than mine. Every time we talk about them it leads to a massive fight between us. He simply cannot see it from my point of view, and constantly tells me to get over it, and that their behavior isn’t a big deal. What do I do?

"Reality? To me that was reality. I don't know about this place. What makes you certain you won't find yourself tied here, trying to explain yourself to people who look like you? I was pretty sure that was reality. Now, well now I just don't care. This is all a dream, so do whatever you want to me. I'm not kissing the cross. Just light the pyre." Shawna told the nogs. They shuffled forward on their trunklike legs, one of them offering her a cross with a figure of a crucified nog with a golden crown and its lips puckered.
"I said I'm not kissing it. Burn me." Shawna grimaced at the horrid little nog. The nogs shrugged in unison and lifted the buckets of icy cold water at their feet. One by one they walked up to her and doused her in cold water, soaking her t-shirt and hair and making her shiver and blow water off her lips while the rest ran down her chin.
"Is she dead?" One of the nog asked.
One of them shuffled forward and waved its hands back and forth in front of her staring, lifeless eyes. "No reaction." the nog confirmed. They'd done it, they'd finally slain the Wicked Witch of the Stars. Some of the Ethgar were saddened, crying big sticky nog tears that left streaks on their faces.
Shawna held perfectly still, trying not to laugh. They really thought she was dead, they thought they'd burned her alive with their buckets of cold water. Stupid nogs, just a few moments longer and she could break free from their braided bonds and be on her way, richer than John Godson.
"I just worry her soul wont reach the Likeliness, We should hold the jesus-nog to her lips, just to be sure." A nasty little Ethgar suggested.
"We should all just shuffle off." Shawna tried some ventriloquism.
"Who said that?" Ethgar were asking each other. The nogs suddenly all looked back at Shawna, their little devil eyes glowing in the starlight.
"Oh fiddle cakes!" Shawna swore.
She didn't usually use such foul language, but she was at her wits end with the Ethgar. First, their ridiculous test of faith to learn about Red Raven, and the treasure of the Seven Wonders. Then she had to climb Mount Velvet while nogs slung biffy sludge from their blow tubes while singing insults to her. With her knuckles bloodied and fitz in her hair, she'd reached the summit only to be accused of heresy, for she'd forgotten to remove her shoes. She'd have to climb the whole mountain again, just as penance.
After the six recitals of the Bindinfingin's half a dozen holy books, the extinct lizards granted her a one-hour library pass in their sacred underground grottos. Was it enough time to memorize enough of their holy scripture to be able to compete in the junior nog bible quotation contest and become a wearer of the golden crown of the most kissable-crucifiable? It was, because Shawna really applied herself and memorized no fewer than three verses, which was two more than any junior nog had ever quoted. With the golden crown on her head, she could at last learn the last part of the legend of Red Raven, and find out where the treasure was hidden.
Wealth unimaginable, seven wonders, that's a lot of moolah.
Bindinfingin ghost-holograms followed her around with sad expressions. The long dead intelligences expected better of her.
"We've waited your return for fourteen thousand trine. Red Raven will you not reveal at last the eighth wonder? We have so waited to know the final answer." The Bindinfingin said to Shawna, but she ignored them. They almost sounded like they thought she was someone else and that the treasure was one of those 'the treasure was the adventure' or 'the treasure was really just friendship' or someshit.
Shawna wasn't going to eat an adventure-friendship treasure, not after the nog figurine got smoochies from her. "Jesus, give me the strength of patience not to kick all these nogs."
"Do dead humans talk?" A nog asked.
They began arguing and discussing whether humans could talk when they were dead. Shawna put her two cents in, insisting that she could indeed talk while she was dead.
"Thou shalt not speak to the dead." A nog zealot drew his putty maker. Others pulled out their blow tubes, spit ball launchers and bald makers. One or two had forgot to pack weapons to the witch burning ceremony, but scooped up some dirt into their empty buckets.
"Thou shalt not fart from thy mouth." Shawna said in the dark, mimicking a nog-sounding voice. Then, as she blew a raspberry, the nogs went berserk. They had divided into two groups, each with opposing religious views, although none of them were sure what religious view the group they were divided into was seeing. The sound of the raspberry was like a starting bell, and within minutes the nogs had annihilated themselves, dead nogs scattered everywhere. The last of them finished itself off. Nogs were perfectionists.
"Now for that treasure." Shawna said gleefully. She followed the path through the empty nog village and found their sacred grotto. It was unguarded, and at last, she'd done it, found what she was always told wasn't even real.
"Reality, Shawna." A familiar voice said from the silent swamps all around.
"Who said that?" She asked.
"Reality is the treasure. I just want you to come back to me. I know you're in there. I can feel you dreaming."
Shawna shook her head. "I know what's real."
A few glowing bugs floated lazily on the air past her, going off to some hollow log to party. Shawna felt watched, like someone was holding her hand. It was going to be good, when she didn't find the treasure, what a weird feeling. Shawna shook it off. The treasure was hers.
"You think you can take my treasure?" The space pirate captain's hologramatic ghost stood in her way.
"So, you're Red Raven. Notorious brigand, mutineer and baroness. I'm here for your treasure, I knew it was real, I knew it all along." Shawna smirked. "The aliens, they worshipped you, but I know you're just a criminal." Shawna told her. "You even almost had me fooled with the Bindinfingin holograms making this sound like some sort of morality scam."
"Yet you made it all the way here." Red Raven smiled, proud of Shawna.
"Of course I did. You think I don't know what's real and what isn't?" Shawna laughed.
"The treasure is real. You just have to go through that door and accept what's on the other side." Red Raven pointed. "It's the treasure."
"See? You're still trying to psych me out. I'm abouts to be richer than John Godson. Sick of this." Shawna grabbed the handle, but something felt wrong.
"Just go through." Red Raven urged her.
"I can't." Shawna felt her eyes watering. "I just want to stay here. I'm not ready."
"You'll never be ready to be rich like John Godson. Nobody ever is. Just go in there already. I gots to get my wings, Shawna." Red Raven made 'go on in' gestures, shooing Shawna with the backs of her hands waving up at her.
"If this is any kind of treasure that isn't money, I swear I'm coming back here for you, and even though you're dead, I'll choke you out anyway." Shawna told Red Raven.
"Yes-yes, all that. Now go through already, the hour draws late." Red Raven seemed to have unlimited patience, despite her efforts to urge Shawna into the treasure behind the weird creepy disembodied door floating in the swamp. The door that looked suspiciously like her bedroom door as a child, growing up. Not liking this one bit, no sir.
Shawna took a deep breath, closed her eyes, turned the handle and went through.

I don’t even know where to start. From the first day that I met my in-laws a decade ago, they have been entitled, demanding and generally very difficult and frustrating to deal with. I love my husband very much, and we very rarely have problems or fights unless it’s concerning his parents and his sister.
Some back story, my husband and his mom are Eastern European, while my husband’s stepdad and I are Chinese, and we all live in China. His half-sister is mixed European and Chinese. I can barely believe that he’s related to these people: he’s independent, competent, helpful, generous and logical, whereas they are none of these things.
Even before we got married, my in-laws constantly asked me to do favors for them, and I think they treat me like a servant. They’ve even ruined two of my birthdays in a row with some demanding tantrums over stupid shit, and my MIL tried to commandeer my wedding, she even called it her wedding.
One of the problems is that both of them are terrible communicators: my MIL, despite having lived in China for three decades, does not speak Chinese, whereas I don’t speak her mother tongue. Her English is quite poor and she constantly misunderstands me when we try to communicate in English. Even something as simple as organizing a meet up is riddled with frustrations because she has absolutely no communication skills, and she doesn’t even know how to use GPS or other basic Chinese apps. She is the most helpless person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. She hasn’t had a job since she came to China and she is incompetency personified.
On top of that she is snobby, she looks down on most Chinese people and whenever we socialize she is always complaining about something or someone, and she thinks all Chinese people are out of scam her. She lives in a total expat bubble and does not understand most Chinese customs or way of life. My FIL, ironically being Chinese himself, is also a terrible communicator and has a bad case of untreated adult ADD. He’s always spewing bullshit conspiracies at me, or putting me down, or going on about some complete non-sequitur. They’re both demanding and entitled, and if you help them with one favor, they’ll ask for ten more immediately, they’re both total choosing beggars.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was that about 2 years ago, my sister-in-law was getting ready to apply for university in the US. Since I had gone to college in the US, they both asked my husband to make me help her with her college application and SATs. I didn’t want to do it, because I knew there would be communication problems and misunderstandings galore, but after much pleading from my husband, acquiesced in the end.
From the get-go, it was a total nightmare. They both knew absolutely nothing about the US university application process, but whenever I tried to explain it they both talked over me and didn’t listen at all. On top of that they were delusional about my sister-in-law’s grades. She is a mediocre student at best and has absolutely no hobbies or extracurricular interests other than video games, and she acts bratty and immature for her age. Despite this, they thought she could get into Colombia or NYU. Eventually I found them an agency to help them, but as usual my MIL thought the agency was out to scam her and started complaining about them to me and my FIL right away. He, being the entitled twat that he is, told me he was going to sue them for not delivering, even though he didn’t even bother to read the contract he signed with them, and told me to read it, and resolve the situation otherwise he will sue.
On top of this, my SIL, being lazy and spoiled, hated going to them and took it out on me personally by being excessively rude to me everyone I saw her. She would often roll her eyes at me, complain about the agency loudly, or otherwise pretend that I didn’t exist. She has also taken to texting me 40 messages in a row on WeChat in the middle of the night, demanding help with her college application. My MIL witnessed some of this behavior and said nothing. I got so fed up that I started to avoid them completely, and quit our group chats. After a few months they realized I was avoiding them, and started complaining about me and badmouthing me to my husband for “disrespecting” them.
Last September, my husband forced me to go to a dinner with them, after I had managed to avoid them for half a year. My MIL and SIL were both incredibly rude to me and cold-shouldered me all night. I was very upset and honestly didn’t want to ever see them again. Around Thanksgiving they decided it was time to “forgive” me, and I was forced into another dinner with them. The favor-asking started again after this, this time my MIL wanted help changing the wallpapers in her house, which I had done for them before. I was honestly beyond done with them at this point and never wanted to help them with anything again, but as usual my husband begged and pleaded. After I helped them, my husband told his mom to text me to thank me and tell me she was satisfied with the result. Instead she texts (the first time she has texted me in over a year) that she wants to change the wallpaper in every room of their house and wants me to find her new wallpaper books, and help them some more with this.
At this point I am furious. I honestly don’t ever want to see or talk to them again. They never apologized for any of their behavior, never even realized how awful they have been to me over the years, and have gotten comfortable enough to demand favors again. I want my husband to tell them that it’s not okay to treat me this way, and how their past behavior hurt my feelings, but my husband thinks his mom is too sensitive, will misunderstand, and doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. I also offered a face-to-face meeting with her to tell her myself how offensive I find her and my FIL and SIL’s behavior to be, but my husband thinks that her English isn’t strong enough for this and thinks I will offend her and she will misunderstand as usual.
I don’t know what to do at this point, all I know is I can’t stand any of them and can barely bring myself to be civil at this point. I feel allergic to them. I’ve talked about this endlessly to my husband, but he thinks I’m overreacting and that they aren’t that bad to me. He thinks I should just take it. He works for my FIL, and he’s used to them badgering him to help them with basic things. He thinks it’s okay that they treat me like an extension of him, but I’m not okay with it anymore.
I cut ties with my own mother a decade again for abuse, controlling behavior and treating me like a servant. I honestly can’t believe I’m experiencing this with my in-laws all over again, it triggers me like nothing else. I don’t want to leave my husband, and we have a very happy life together otherwise. He’s such a good person, but he’s also caught in the middle. I know my thoughts and complaints about his family hurts him a lot.
I’ve tried searching online for advice on how to deal with entitled and demanding in-laws, but I can’t find any specific to my case. They don’t interfere with my life otherwise, they only reach out when they want me to do something for them. I feel like they only value me for what I can do for them, and I’m hurt that my husband thinks his mom’s feelings are more important than mine. Every time we talk about them it leads to a massive fight between us. He simply cannot see it from my point of view, and constantly tells me to get over it, and that their behavior isn’t a big deal. What do I do?