I decided to (re)watch every single DiP episode from season 1 to season 13, including the 3 Christmas specials, and to make an Excel file compiling fun stats about the show. Here's the gist (and please excuse any mistakes as English is not my mother tongue):

General statistics

• Men are most likely to be killed (71 out of 113 victims are men), but also to kill (62 out of 107 murderers are men).
• So it makes sense that most murders are a man killing a man (45 times). The most frequent configuration is then a woman killing a man (27), followed by a man killing a woman (22) and finally a woman killing a woman (20).

Methods of murder

• Saint Marie murderers have a soft spot for firearms (32).
• Bladed weapons (i.e. knives, machetes, ice picks, spears, scissors and needles) were used 24 times.
• 21 victims were killed by poison/overdose.
• 8 fell to their deaths.
• 8 were strangled.
• 6 were asphyxied (most of the times with a pillow).
• 6 were struck with a blunt object (including a pole, a paperweight, a statuette, a golf club and a handle).
• 3 were electrocuted.
• 2 were drowned.
• 2 had an allergic reaction caused by the murderer.
• 1 was harpooned.

Motives

• Most of the time (26), you kill to prevent the victim to reveal something incriminating about you.
• Revenge is a pretty common motive as well (24), especially in more recent seasons.
• 19 murders were motivated by money, 18 by love.
• 14 murders were committed to protect a loved one, a place the murderer enjoyed, or a business in which he was involved.
• 4 victims were killed to put an end to their abuse of the murderer (mainly blackmail).
• 3 murders were ordered by another person.
• 2 murders were mistakes by the murderer, who originally wanted to kill someone else.
• 2 murders were committed to make it appear that the victim was guilty of a previous crime and committed suicide out of guilt.
• Shoutout to the one crime that was committed purely gratuitously.

Who gets the most killed?

• You're most at risk of being killed by your colleague or business partner, as was the case for 22 unfortunate people.
• 13 murderers killed their bosses or people above them in the hierarchy.
• 12 killed their friends.
• 11 killed their customers.
• 9 killed their fathers.
• 5 wives killed their husbands and 4 husbands killed their wives.
• 3 murderers killed their employees or people below them in the hierarchy; 3 killed their exes and 3 killed their brothers.
• 2 killed their girlfriends; 2 killed their brothers-in-law, 2 killed their mothers-in-law.
• On the other hand, if you suspect that the guy who has a crush on you, your brother-in-law, nephew, daughter or girlfriend is up to no good, you can usually sleep soundly (1 murder for each).

Which occupation is the deadliest?

Well, besides simple resident (26) and tourist (10), the deadliest job on Saint Marie is businessman/woman (8). Singers (5) and police officers (4) are also quite threatened.
Speaking of coincidences, note that 2 brides were killed on their wedding day, 2 prisoners were killed by their prison guard, and 2 survival coaches were killed by someone close to them.

Recurring tropes

The Saint Marie police had to deal with 71 seemingly impossible murders (i.e. a murder in a closed room and/or a murder where all the suspects were together at the time of the murder). 51 times, the DI has solved this case with the help of a completely innocuous event.
13 murders were committed with direct complicity (including 4 with the complicity of 2 or more people). 12 murders were disguised as suicides, 4 as accidents, 3 as burglaries gone wrong. 4 deaths were actually suicides made to look like murders.
On the fun side, in 5 different cases, the victim wanted to stage their own murder in order to disappear and start a new life, but was killed anyway.

How did the killer fake their alibi?

Most of the time, the murder took place earlier than previously thought (23), notably because the culprit or an accomplice posed as the victim after the murder (9) or because the gunshot heard was not actually the one that killed the victim (5).
20 murders took place elsewhere than previously thought. In 8 cases, it's because the victim had time to move before succumbing.
16 murders took place later than previously thought, mostly because the victim as first discovered was not actually dead, and the murderer killed them afterwards (9), or because there was a second gunshot after the murder (7).
In 10 different cases, the poison was not where it was thought to be.
I'd like to note the inventiveness of Sainte Marie's murderers when it comes to blocking a door from the inside: among other strokes of genius, they've already used a towel, a bottle cap, a fork and chewing gum to obstruct a door.

Character stats

1. Obviously, officer Dwayne Myers holds the record for number of episodes (60), excluding Catherine, the commissionner and Harry.
2. JP is the 2nd longest-serving character in the show, with 52 episodes.
3. Florence appeared in 49 episodes (46 as a DS and 3 as an officer).
4. Neville appeared in 39 episodes, making him the longest-serving DI.
5. Marlon: 31
6. Humphrey: 30
7. Camille: 28
8. Naomi: 26 (21 as a DS and 5 as an officer)
9. Fidel: 24
10. Jack: 22
11. Darlene: 21
12. Richard: 16
13. Ruby: 15
14. Madeleine: 10.

I hope you've enjoyed these little fun facts! I'll keep my stats updated with the next seasons.
(Please note that these statistics only apply to murders seen directly in the episode. I have not taken into account murders that take place chronologically before the episode.)

CADDY

Scaling: [Spons RT]() [Scott Wozniak RT]()

STRENGH

• Hangs himself out of spite for the Kinect (Kinect games)
• Uses a golf cart as a club (goofy funhouse)
• Throws his kid out of a window (crash 4 scene)
• Breaks a door (crash 4 scene)
• One shots Momo (haloween)
• Launches a Crash Bandicoot plushie through his roof, which then turns into a another crash plushie (crash merch)
• Pushes a transition screen away (?)
• Throws a phone, breaking it (bootleg)
• Throws a PS1 accessory across the world (ps1 accessories)
• Blows up an old phone (portable crash games)
• Breaks boxes with Crash Bandicoot (bandicoot month)
• Jumps to heaven (I'm bitter)

PUNCHING

• Punches the narrator hard enough to break a camera
• Punches Olly in the face
• Punches himself in the no-no's, causing agrippa to come out his mouth

DURABILITY

• Gets melted by the sun
• Survives in space
• Can survive without his head
• Survives after Spons rips through his chest
• Hammers a screwdriver into his ear
• As he is consistently in the Scott the Woz universe, to the point Caddy talks to him from the window of his house, Scott caused the universe to collapse which Caddy survived, since he's in the universe
• Gets flattened by the bricks
• Gets eaten by a crocodile
• Flies out the living room on a skateboard
• Falls off a roof
• Gets ran over
• Stabs himself, however he is hurt by this
• Goes inside toxic waste
• Covers himself in gasoline, and lights himself on fire off screen
• Fine after the sun spits a game at him
• Gets squished by Daddy Pig
• Impales himself with a sword
• Gets his eyes eaten
• Bleeds out his eyes
• Survives getting shot in the head
• Breaks his spine
• Gets inhaled by a Playstation
• Falls onto a couch hard enough to shake a room

GETTING SHOT

• Incapable of killing himself, blowing his his head off with a shotgun
• Fine after shooting himself in the cock
• Survives being shot in the head by a box of Rice Krispies
• Shoots himself in the head (skateboard)

TRANSMUTATION RESISTANCE

• Comes back after being turned into metal
• Gets tubacolosis and literally turns into a tuba.
• Gets turned into a youtooz vinyl figure

BLUNT FORCE ANG GETTING PUNCHED

• Takes a kick from Goku, however it's debatable if he's the actual one.
• Takes a hit from a giant hammer
• Knocked out by a baseball bat
• Gets punched by Big the Cat hard enough to swat away the entire screen

SPEED

• Surprises Scott the Woz
• Flies into a holiday inn, blowing it up
• Flies into space
• Dodges a sword swing
• Duplicates himself to catch a disc thrown by himself, in his mouth
• Runs fast enough to create after-images
• Turns into a rocket
• Takes a bouns round platform to America
• Jumpscares you (halloween)
• Dodges bullets from Spy Caddy

EXPLOSIONS

• Survives an explosion that kills Crash Bandicoot
• Survives this random explosion
• Gets nuked
• Survives a car being launched at him, creating an explosion
• Ok after his head blows up
• Gets his head blown off, launched onto a breakout paddle, then back onto his body
• Survives an explosion caused by a ps5 that fills a room
• Has a bunch of Crash Bandicoot merchandise fall from space, onto him
• Survives an unexpected explosion #ABILITIES
• Can turn a Cartridge into a PS1 game
• Kills a woman by mentioning the fifth element game
• Can use the force
• Can use the force lightning
• Can summon things by simply mentioning them
• Reverses pouring Pepsi in a cup
• Turns into the sun
• Toxic tunnels made him so toxic that people who came near him died
• Gives life to a teddy bear
• Can respawn at his house if he dies or gets KO'd
• Can stretch his neck
• whatever the duck this is (halloween special start)
• Can teleport
• Can multiply himself
• Can just say bad things to make them happen

TELEPORTATION

• Uses his "Bitch powers" to teleport
• Teleports to catch a game in his mouth

SIZE MANIPULATION

• Seemingly becomes this big (poster)
• Shrinks to a mini size to demonstrate a Crash TNT crate light

STUFF

• Pulls out a baseball bat, which he hits his cousin Mug with
• Has a lightsaber
• gun.
• A wand that's capable of blowing people up
• a mini TNT crate, which he throws at Olly
• Has a gun which evolves people
• Has robot feet, which he uses to kick his children
• Has a dragon (with no practical use whatsoever apart from flying, which he can already do.) (httyd segment)
• Bouns platform, which as mentioned before can go to places like america in seconds. For context, Caddy is in the UK
• Big thruster- A rocket that's shaped like a cock
• Oujia board
• Presumably wears groin guard
• Can be protected by his PS1 memory card, which catches him after he falls from a plane
• Ready access to nuclear weapons (eyetoy)
• A knife, which he uses to threaten Matt rose (eyetoy)

SLAUGHTERER

• Can remove memories
• Functions as a normal gun

INTELLIGENCE

• Could get away with treason
• Hacks into Brutalmoose's laptop
• Knows where you live. This not a joke. Hide. Now.
• Replaces his own spine
• Is a Spy in his spare time

OTHER

• [Salvages the computer screen](The creepy doll)
• [Freezes time, however he might not be immune](commercials)
• [Teleports to his couch in a flash of lightning, since he's wearing new clothes, this may be time travel](commercials)
• Used to have 540 thousand teeth.
• Interacts with his past self, presumably kills him off screen
• Drinks a game
• Flies through a chimney using balloons (UP game)
• Makes his eyes come off his face
• Can jump unreasonably high (bad ps4 store games)
• Creates fire using the coronation street game
• Removes the text from a magazine (psq magazines)
• Turns a cartridge into a disc
• Has eyes on the back of his head
• His mum stopped a freight train by frowning at it
• Can lay an egg containing Spons, however this can only happen once a month
• Turns into the "Jim Nebula"

WEAKNESSES

• Is shit at riding hoverboards
• Has chronic heart pain sometimes.
• Has a drinking problem
• Suicidal
• Needs pills so he doesn't murder you

the two boys enter a maze that is shaped like a pyramid, in this maze you have to look for walls of juices, collecting all the juices you pass the level, and in the last phase there is a chocolate juice. You have the option to play with the woman or the man
Platform(s): I played on a Brazilian brand PC: Megaware
Genre: Exploration
Estimated year of release:
Graphics/art style: pixel or limitations of the time
Notable characters: one wore a yellow shirt and the other a red shirt
Notable gameplay mechanics: was controlled by the arrow keys on the keyboard
Other details:

Background - growing up I was socially stunted. Had a few flings in uni but since moving back home (Toronto is uber expensive and on my salary im afford to move out), dating has been a struggle. Im a 6'4" black dude who thinks of himself as well-rounded (I dress as well as I can, hit the gym 4 times a week, read a lot and am a history nerd generally while still liking "cool" stuff like watching basketball and listening to rap). The last 7 years I have spent trying to learn daygame, nightgame, because I am generally unable to have a fulfilling dating life off the apps.Unfortunately now Im at the point where im banned from tinder for making accounts too many times, hinge is very on and off (get quite a few matches but they rarely respond), and last few dates ive been on the girl has been less attractive than her pic and I cut things off. I am completely stuck in my head and unfortunately over past few years have embraced a bit of the blackpill mindset where literally your face is the #1 most important thing that matters to a woman. Walking around yesterday seeing couples of all shapes and sizes made me start to question my sanity. I start to think "wtf is so wrong with me" that not a single decently attractive woman would be open to starting a conversation with me? While I would love to embrace the Passport bros lifestyle, unfortunately right now my job ties me to this goddamn city. If men shorter than me and uglier than me are having no problem finding a decent relationship, its like what the fuck is wrong with me? I feel as though I am a complete repellant to women and as a man pushing 30 Im really starting to worry. I def want a long-term partner and family one day, but right now I feel that is unattainable. I'm not even looking for a long-term partner at this second just because I feel I have missed out on so many formative experiences with women, so right now I just wanna live the seduction reddit lifestyle. It's gotten so bad that ive been sleeping with escorts just to get myself off and prevent myself from going crazy - even though I know that shit is killing me on the inside. Starting to wonder if maybe my standards are too high, although i tend to think my standards are reasonable.

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

26F. I've been with my husband since we were 14 and we just had a baby 10 months ago. I have always gotten along with my MIL. She's a very sweet woman who would literally take the shirt off her back to make sure I am okay. I love this woman tremendously. But for whatever reason, every single time she has come over to see the baby, my daughter screams bloody murder the entire time she's here. She doesn't do this with anyone else. But literally the second my MIL walks through the door and my daughter sees her, she is in my ear screaming, hyperventilating and inconsolable. It's literally been like this since she was born (my MIL first visited when she was a 4 days old and it was the same thing then). We have never been super cautious about having people over to see our daughter but like I said, she's not like that with anyone else. Like, some people she doesn't want touching her but she never cries. My MIL is just the polar opposite. She has been able to successfully hold her once without her screaming but it was when she was holding her faced away from her and my husband was entertaining her to keep her distracted. My MIL comes over once a week and honestly, I've just started completely dreading her coming here at all because I'm not kidding, my daughter screams the entire time and sometimes my MIL doesn't leave for a couple of hours. It's not fun for anyone involved.
Well, she came here yesterday and my husband is starting to get irritated by the fact that our daughter refuses to warm up to his mother because she's been a huge part of our lives. So he suggested that she start coming here more often than she already does now to basically attempt to force the bond. I personally know it doesn't work like that. I mean, if the bond was going to happen right now, it would have already. She simply does not like my MIL. I thought maybe it was the perfume my MIL wore so she stopped wearing perfume but that did nothing. I told her to not wear her jewelry to see if that helped but again, that did nothing. I've even had her put her hair up, thinking maybe my daughter was getting overwhelmed with not being able to see her face completely and that actually made it worse. I've told her to stop baby talking her (because she has a very high pitched baby talk voice) but her normal voice didn't calm the baby down either. And honestly, I'm exhausted and fed up with trying. I don't think we SHOULD try. I think we need to let it go and let it form naturally. She will warm up to her eventually, in her own time. But my husband is basically just not okay with it, all because my mom came here to see us for the first time last month (she lives in UK and traveling is hard to US for her) and our daughter immediately loved her and didn't want her to set her down. So my husband felt slighted about it, and as I said he wants his mom to come here more.
Well, usually I don't mind when my MIL stops by but she came by unannounced this morning at 8:30am and I mean, I had just woken up with the baby (she had a long night, teething, so I'm talking like 3hrs of sleep). She comes in and says that my husband told her to come over and hang out FOR THE DAY. She said she cleared her entire schedule to be here. I just kind of shook my head and said "I really don't want to deal with the baby screaming all day long. I wish you guys had run this by me. You know I love having you here but this whole 'lets force a bond' bullshit is dragging me mentally. You guys should have asked me." She looked hurt and said "it's okay sweetie, I can go" and she left a few minutes later. But now my husband is mad at me, insisting that this "would have worked". AITA?

Every summer the sun comes out and the dudes take off their shirts. And I can't leave my house because I'm reminded that I can't do that in front of anyone. I couldn't even change in front of the other girls in the locker room in gym class, I'd feel obscene.
As a historian, I'm keenly aware men used to only go topless in homo-social situations where it was just men. About 100 years ago men fought for the right to go topless in public beaches, sharing space with women and children. The reason swimsuits were unisex was because 100 some years ago in America obscenity laws were equal for everyone.
Women have spent the past 100 odd years fighting to breast feed in the same spaces men can go shirtless, or anywhere people eat (like restaurants); it was in effort to stop feeding babies in public toilet stalls. Makes sense. Only the so-called female nipple has a practical function to be exposed.
Obscenity laws for our "bottom parts" make sense since they function in private and ought to function in private, whether to evacuate urine/feces or for sexual relations. It is precisely because of these functions the "genitalia" are banned and considered nudity.
Now, if women want to beat the heat, they better work out that booty because swimwear is about showing off the backside cheeks. However, I guess I grew up being told to cover my butt up, so that's not an option I'd do in public. I don't want people staring at my butt.
Meanwhile, even I'm wearing a tight so-called female swimsuit top it shows off the entire shape of my chest leaving nothing to the imagination the dudes walk around topless without the extra layer of spandex-y type material that is really trapping heat and annoying. Sure, should be moisture wicking and stuff, but women's swimwear seems to trap in the heat. Padding is like wearing little miniature winter coats on my chest, on each "boob," which for me draws attention to that area in more ways being topless would not... Does this make sense?
I'm supposed to show off the shape of my breasts while keeping them covered. I'm supposed to wear itty bitty triangles over them and prevent "nip slips"... let alone I'm expected to shave before I go out in public in these skimpy swimsuits which leave nothing to the imagination.
Men, however, get to throw on baggy shorts and they're ready to go. The prep time is nil. Unless he's in speedos no one is seeing the literal shape of his nether regions. I have supposedly no choice unless I put on even more layers. Shorts and shirts, sweltering in the heat, surrounded by topless dudes who I never gave my consent to frolic around me topless.
Used to be I advocated for equal rights and women going topless but now I just think men should cover up. The conservatives are using their children (girls mostly) to protest seeing a topless "boy" (actually trans) in the locker room. Apparently all this time unbeknownst to me girls don't want to see that. But at the pool, beach, playground, park, street, backyard, frontyard, etc, it's unavoidable. It's totally legal. Males can expose themselves outside the locker room all they want.
When do we accept this as... acceptable public behavior? We know it's nudity, but we must pretend not to notice it. Females are not covered up for having breasts, it's for having nipples. Well last time I checked, dudes have nipples. So that's a double standard.
Sure, this comes down to some primal jealousy I have but for all my life I can't enjoy the summer air the same way. I feel defective, not sexy, and why would I want to feel "sexy" in front of the public of all ages? Why should we say it's cool if men go topless because some of them are sexy, this is a family beach. We say we don't want groomers and pedoPh!les around our kids, who are mostly men let's face it, but we allow strangers to walk around our children topless and think it's OK.
If some topless dude sent your young teen a photo of himself topless, he's not being obscene? It's not nudity? I'd say lock that creep out, because if a woman did the same thing she'd be in prison.
It's rude and most dudes I ever met who go topless around kids/women are usually very narcissist and want that power over others. A sort of Look what I can Do but you Can't.... in addition I'm 42 so starting to have those hot flashes. It's impractical for me to wear more clothing but I'm basically indecent all over, from the bottom to the top. It depresses me so much, always has.
Wearing a sundress to air myself out is not helping plus dictating if only I changed what I wore I'd feel less hot in the sunshine. Put the dudes in sundresses too then. See how they like it.
We should all wear wetsuits. This inequitable definition of what is nudity has only resulted in over a century of men feeling superior for the most overlooked reasons --- they can mow the lawn half naked, they can walk down the street half naked, and no one will tell them what to do. The only places practicing good reason are the No shirts No service shopping centers. We should go back to decency laws, that apply to everyone equally. If men want to be topless, go back to the bathhouses where it was acceptable before and usually almost always places for gay men to frequent to "see topless dudes" DUH...
If nobody wants to see me topless, then understand this--- I don't want to see your dads and sons topless around me. Cover up. Show some respect to women/girls. It is at least disrespectful to flaunt and exercise this law around girls/women--- it is at worst abusive and done without remorse. "I don't care about your comfort, only my own".... it teaches misogyny.
But it's "too hot for a shirt!" Stop it. Apparently it's never been hot for me, I must run cold blooded...
End rant.

I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…

So, I've been seeing a lot of binary trans people people who later in transition abandon label of trans entirely, go completely stealth and assimilate. A lot of heterosexual trans people really hate being called queer. My best friend (who is 19 and started transition like three years ago) has decided to completely disengage from trans community and just thinks of herself as a tall bi cis girl (with medical condition that requires bottom surgery)
I don't really feel I'm able to do that. I've started at 28 (which is not that late, so not even sure if I qualify for this subreddit, but it still seems to be later than a lot of people on main subs). Even ignoring the fact that a lot more people knew me pre-transition (I'm leaving country anyway) and that I'm still planning to stay "soft stealth" (like, not disclosing it unless really necessary, but also not really going out of my way to hide that). It's just too much of my life was shaped by me being a trans woman in repression/denial/closet. It made me who I am. When I talk about my past, I cannot just switch pronouns around.
I might be a straight(-leaning) binary woman, and this isn't really the most queer thing, but my experiences are queer experiences, and my attraction to men is queer attraction - it feels like that, and I've been repressing it for far too long, because society would hate me for it. I'm only 1.5 years in transition, and maybe ten years later I'll say something else, but right now I don't feel like I can just abandon this part of myself.
What do you think?

(Only Europe, Please) - short note - If you're not into reading or receiving long messages,don't read any further + Please If you don't want to read everything because of my post being too long for you & instead of reading It all - ..skip some parts - find another person to talk to.Let's respect each other and our free time. All people criticizing/making fun of me & other people - will be blocked.Pretty much as people questioning my post and giving me unsolicited advice.I'm not here for any conflicts and I know I can't please everyone - I know I never will.. However It's me who should feel comfortable in my new potential friendship & obviously someone who wants to be my friend - not the whole world.. which is why I don't need any advice from people who don't even want to be a part of my life. The amount of rude people on Reddit always criticizing others and making fun of them is unbelievably high but let me tell you something - NEVER let anyone make choices for you and criticize you only because you're different! Always fight for your dreams and never let anyone make you think you're worthless! It's your life and you're the one deciding what's best for you - If you want to judge me despite not even wanting to talk to me or give me advice better block me! I'm an adult woman and I make all decisions on my own.I'm not trying to "fit in" and be like everyone else - just to get more attention.Accept me for who I am or let go - is my motto.
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Hello guys! 🙂 (read everything before you decide to send me a message) Please send me a message ONLY If you're in the same situation and If your expectations are the same as mine.I want to find like minded people from Europe (Why Europe? Read my post to find out) I'm looking for something permanent (remember - you can feel lonely even If you're surrounded by others - If there's no emotional bond) I'm fed up of meeting people who never make time for me & only text me once or twice a week to ask me "what are you up to?" Out of boredom.I don't want to meet people asking others a million of questions like "what's your favorite movie?" Just to give them one word answer and ask them another question "and music? Your favorite song?" I'm looking for something "deeper" & different 🙂
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What kind of friend would I like to find? Someone to talk to on a daily basis - Someone who needs It & wants It just as much as me
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What are my expectations? I would like to meet someone in a similar situation – why? Because I honestly feel like only a person with the same expectations and a similar outlook on life would get along with me & because I feel more comfortable talking to people like me..Friendless people who need a strong bond - people without friends and partners.. Don't get me wrong…Most people deserve to be happy and It's good to have friends but people who have friends or families in real life are usually more focused on them (which is completely understandable) & have less time for others + I simply don't want to be replaced by anyone..I kind of envy people who can call others , true friends given I don't have an emotional bond with any of my acquaintances. Please send me a message only If you're not In a relationship and don't have friends for the same reasons I've already mentioned before
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Whenever I hear that others have friends I simply get sad because (believe it or not) If I had to choose between 20 people to talk to (acquaintances) and one special person - I'd choose that one special person without any hesitation .
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I also want to talk to others every day because..I want to see someone’s effort & be someone's first choice - not another person to have random conversations with..some people ask me "Why do you want to talk to people from Europe?" Well..Because I would like to see someone I'd get along with - In the far future - face to face :) + I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to receive a message - waiting 6 hours to receive a message is more than enough
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I'm by no means criticizing people who don't want to talk to others often / People who really are super busy & People who want to find someone to have unimportant conversations with - I'm aware that not everyone has the same expectations which is why everything you're reading now - is here for a reason :) All I'm suggesting is - I don't want anything temporary and I don't want to be the one always giving more than receiving.Listen people - I used to ignore being..ignored by others..always being just an option to talk to during tough times or moments of boredom.I was too young to realize that I was never important enough for most people that were a part of my life. I don't know who needs to hear this but..No one is too busy to make time for you! People make excuses to avoid others because they prioritize everything and (maybe) everyone..over them. It's true that most people are busy - but It takes only a few seconds to start a conversation (If you're into short messages) and a few minutes (1-10/15) to type a long message . Don't let anyone lie to you.
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Truth is that most people either don't like you enough to make time for you or just simply - feel no need to talk to others often but are they too busy? No..You don't need to send me a message just to ask me and tell me "Do you really want to talk every day? I like long messages but I can't promise to contact you often" If you really are unsure please don't send me a message.I don't need more acquaintances aka people to talk to - occasionally.
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I'm not trying to sound rude but conversations once or twice a week wouldn't be enough for me and I don't need them... Let me tell you one thing – A true friend would never just give up on you for no reason :) It’s always possible to find someone to have a random conversation with – someone willing to send you one message once or twice a week..but..It’s almost impossible to find people willing to make more time for you.
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I’m not asking a busy person to make time for me by changing some plans! Absolutely not! I’m here to find someone who wants to talk daily (throughout the day or maybe even night) of one’s own will.Someone looking for the same kind of connection.Strong friendships are based on mutual support. One of the best things you can do for a friend in need, is just to be there for them when they want to talk.I often see posts from people who always say how friendless they are because they don't feel loved or appreciated by their "friends" remember! A true friend - someone who truly likes you or someone who wants to get to know you - will always find time for you.
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I'm not interested in small talk/short messages - I love long and meaningful conversations. It's so easy to find someone who loves abbreviations and questions like "How are you?" How was your day? Or what are you interested in? But so hard/almost impossible to find a person who knows how to keep a conversation going & show others some effort.Building and maintaining friendships takes time and effort.Never allow pursuits or possessions to become bigger priorities than your relations with other people.Close friendships are so important to us because they are so difficult to form + Having friends can help you feel as if you belong to something that brings purpose and connection to your life
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• I do NOT respond to any „Hey,hmu” or „u want to talk?” type of messages (super short messages or messages full of abbreviations – I literally can’t stand abbreviations and acronyms in text messages) ALL messages full of abbreviations will immediately be ignored.I also don't like it when people ignore everything I say in private messages just to focus on a random question or? When they start talking only about themselves and don't ever ask me anything. I love conversations with people referring to everything I say...I want everything I say and do - to be reciprocated
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• No NSFW profiles (checking mental health subreddits NOT included as I'm a huge empath and always try to understand others) - Please! I'm not looking for anyone to flirt with and I'm not looking for a partner either. I always check people's profiles (even comment history) - To avoid guys, trying to get inappropriate pictures from adult women or? flirt with them + I don't want to see you with no clothes on so If you're on Reddit only because you want others to see what's underneath your clothes - I'm not for you! I just simply don't want to see any s e x related activity on your profile If you want to talk to me.
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• If both of us (you and I) are from the same country (I live in a non-English speaking country) - I want to communicate with you in our first language! No - Not because I don't understand English - because as you see - I do. Why then? English is simply overrated and people don't appreciate other languages as much as they should. So.. If we're from the same country and you want to talk only in English (which is quite common on reddit) - Talk to someone else. I just don't want to talk to a person from the same country as mine - in a foreign language as It's just something I don't understand even If all you want is to improve your language skills
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• Please only adult people 18-36 (age range) It doesn't matter to me If you're younger or older than me (as long as you're not underage) So.. don't worry! I just want to have discussions with emotionally mature people :)
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• I don’t respond to messages I don’t find interesting even If they're long - If after receiving and reading your message I don't feel comfortable or think "I wouldn't get along with him/her" I simply do not respond (what I’m suggesting is that I don’t always respond to someone’s first or second message because..sometimes you just know If you’d get along with someone or not- I’d never ignore anyone after days or weeks of daily conversations though) just because I don’t want to do anything forcefully & because I don’t want to lead anyone on. I read all messages but I definitely don't respond to all of them! I want to make it clear because I don't want to be accused of not responding and not reading people's messages! - Some people don't message me back as well and even If It's a bit disappointing I'm ok with that! - as long as there's no emotional bond - Not responding to someone's first or second message Is completely OK! If people think they wouldn't get along with a stranger - is there a reason to start a conversation? I don't think so. I can't stand being ignored after days or weeks of daily conversations and seeing people changing priorities over time.. but that's something different - something I don't want to go through ever again for real. If I'm really interested in someone's message it's impossible to hear from me "I'm too busy" because I know myself and If I had no time for others - I wouldn't be here. I don't want to pretend someone I'm not and always try to find some cheap excuses to avoid others. (unlike most people who don't want to talk to others)
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• Don’t ask me “Can you tell me something about yourself?” If you really want to get to know me - you can ask me questions :) I'm an open book.
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• It would be better If you guys were into emojis - like me - to describe your emotions In text messages. Two emojis - 🙂 and 🙁 are completely enough! I just don't like emotionless conversations.I also don't like it when people say "yeah" or yea"as it sounds dismissively. First impression Is everything to me! I want to see your kindness even in a text message - Emojis are very helpful to express your emotions.I don't want to meet people who say "crying Is a weakness" - It's OK to cry even If you're a guy!
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• I want to talk on reddit first (just to make sure If I'd get along with you) before moving to Discord or some other app
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• I would rather talk to a homebody - not another person who always has something to do as people who are very busy don't even have time for daily conversations
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• If you're another person interested only in "childish conversations" such as "HEYOOO! I'M BORED! Ya like Pizza or cheese? xDDDD 🤣" I'm begging you! Don't send me a message.I'm not a child anymore and such messages don't make me smile or laugh.I'm looking for someone interested In serious discussions - not another person just seeking some entertainment out of boredom . Conversations with sarcastic undertones (even when It comes to some emojis such as 🤣😂) are not for me. Your typing style matters to me! Why? when It comes to online conversations with someone new - It's not always possible to know If someone Is laughing at you.. or with you. Let me tell you something else! Jokes about cancer, disabilities and death are UNACCEPTABLE to me. If you find joy In someone else's misfortune you are not a person I want to know.
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• Time response matters to me a lot! I would never ask anyone to be online all day long and I'm NOT asking any of you for any instant messaging as I'm someone who would rather wait an hour or two to receive a proper response instead of some short and pointless messages but I'm interested only in daily conversations and I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to get a message from you.I don't need unbelievably long messages either! Messages as long as the second paragraph of my post - are completely enough. If you like longer messages? you can send me a longer message, but If you want to send me one word or one sentence as a response to my post - don't expect a reaction from me. I don't want to come across as rude - I just don't want to waste your time
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• I'm strongly AGAINST picking on people you don't even want to chat with - and making fun of them! I can't stand people who criticize others publicly or make fun of them! (only because they disagree with someone they don't even know) There's no place In my life for someone using Reddit, to hurt other people
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• I'm not into foul language and I definitely don't want to talk to people who swear a lot...
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• I want to meet assertive people who know what they want and always stand up for their friends
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• I want to meet someone willing to call me In the future, someone spontaneously sending me pictures of animals or food, et cetera. I want more than just text conversations.. 🌻
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Why can’t you see any of my hobbies listed down below? Because what really matters to me is..who you are (If you’re honest, talkative ,understanding, caring and trustworthy – for example) just simply – It matters to me what you’re like! not what you like.Don’t get me wrong – you can tell me what your hobbies are but from my point of view - people's hobbies are important - If you want to find a gaming buddy or If you want to meet someone to hang out with in real life and..go bowling for example.What most people seem to care about are other people's passions – I don’t. I get along with other people despite having completely different hobbies but I absolutely don’t get along with people way different than me (different expectations and outlook on life – way different sense of humor or personality traits – It’s just an example) It doesn't make ANY DIFFERENCE to me If you're a gamer or? Someone interested in photography! It doesn't make any difference - > as long as you're talkative and kind and If you also want to find someone willing to stay in your life..for good - But If you're into small talk and all you want is to...type and receive super short messages or If you're here only because you're bored and don't know what to do + If you're a very sarcastic person - I'm definitely not for you! I don't get along with overly sarcastic people turning everything into a joke. Friendships should be natural – not forced. I wouldn't get along with people who laugh at everything.. In my opinion most people are way too sarcastic.. It's quite sad... Sarcasm can also be another form of passive-aggressive behavior.
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People who want to be to friends should feel comfortable and have something in common. No - not necessarily a similar taste in music or movies but something else..Most friendships don't fizzle out because of people not having the same hobbies but..because they just simply have different expectations when It comes to something important.I'm not here out of boredom and trust me - I'm not here to meet as many people as possible.I choose quality over quantity.I highly value myself and my time & Sometimes one person but a person who makes you feel comfortable and understood - is more than enough :) We ALL can choose what kind of people we’d like to talk to and maybe even become really good friends with and I? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.We all have some expectations after all.I know that people don't have to talk as often as possible in order to become friends but I'm interested only in daily conversations. If you really need someone to talk to due to loneliness and If you have time to talk to me daily (throughout the day and maybe even night) I always make time for others.I'm literally always available.I could even stay up all night long only to talk to someone important to me. I’m ready to commit but only If there’s some chemistry between me and someone else.I don’t do anything forcefully.
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If you want to talk to me tell me your story - tell me why you're here, what kind of friend would you like to meet :) Et cetera.Such messages are way more interesting to me than...someone's long list of hobbies. I know! It's unusual on reddit but I don't make friends based on hobbies..I want to meet someone with the same mindset as mine to finally feel understood and get close to someone new. You can share your problems with me - I absolutely don't mind "complaining" as I've been through a lot in my life.What do people usually tell you when you tell them that something's wrong? "Don't complain" or "Life's not over yet - one day you'll be happy" or "There are worse situations than yours" and..obviously "Find a therapist" Life's not a fairytale and sometimes things don't go as planned.Emotions shouldn't be bottled up.I'm sick of people always telling others "everything's gonna be ok" move on " & more..Trust me people - not everyone wants to hear "Just believe in yourself and everything's gonna be ok" Some people take it as reassurance - but others? They would rather hear something different 🙁Imagine being told that things will be okay, only for them to get worse..Do you guys know why telling someone "everything's gonna be ok" Is wrong? Because you can't see the future.
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You can't guarantee others that one day they'll finally be happy + when It comes to social interactions - We're responsible only for ourselves - not others & as you guys know people let us down quite often (sometimes even when there's no reason) so instead of telling people how they should move on, forget everything and be happy or asking them to find a therapist - be there for them! Always be willing to listen to them If you really like them or want to get to know them & don't suggest everyone in a tough situation to find a therapist because even the best therapist won't ever replace a true friend + It's quite normal to be disappointed If people always do something to hurt you. Sharing your hardships with other people in a very similar situation or exactly the same one - is VERY helpful If the other person understands you & wants to start all over by just letting it all out! Feeling emotional support instead of always hearing some "positive quotes" or someone saying "Stop complaining let's talk about something else - Is very important! "Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. I appreciate sensitive people who always try to understand others. If after hearing a sad story all you want to say is "forget the past and move on" you're not for me. It's important to be a good listener and provide emotional support to others
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Please - If you're a completely different person than the described type of person I'm looking for (If you love abbreviations,If you don't need a stable friendship, If you're sarcastic and quiet) or If you simply disagree with my post - don't force yourself to send me a message.I want my new potential friendship to be natural which is why I want you to contact me only If your needs are the same - I don't want you to pretend someone you're not - only to please me - Pretending to be someone you're not - is the worst.I want to finally be happy again & find someone "always" wanting to talk - sending me random pictures throughout the day - food pictures or pictures of some animals. What is the most important to me? I want to find people who value online friendships as much as they would value real life ones as there's another human being on the other side
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No comments please.Only Private messages and chat requests 🌺
I know It's possible to meet people with exactly the same expectations as mine but It's just not easy because most people are Interested In temporary and entertaining conversations. People like me are just "different" I really want to finally find someone who loves emojis as much as I do.. someone who loves sweet, warm and serious discussions at the same time. Emojis really do - change conversations 😊

(Only Europe, Please) - short note - If you're not into reading or receiving long messages,don't read any further + Please If you don't want to read everything because of my post being too long for you & instead of reading It all - ..skip some parts - find another person to talk to.Let's respect each other and our free time. All people criticizing/making fun of me & other people - will be blocked.Pretty much as people questioning my post and giving me unsolicited advice.I'm not here for any conflicts and I know I can't please everyone - I know I never will.. However It's me who should feel comfortable in my new potential friendship & obviously someone who wants to be my friend - not the whole world.. which is why I don't need any advice from people who don't even want to be a part of my life. The amount of rude people on Reddit always criticizing others and making fun of them is unbelievably high but let me tell you something - NEVER let anyone make choices for you and criticize you only because you're different! Always fight for your dreams and never let anyone make you think you're worthless! It's your life and you're the one deciding what's best for you - If you want to judge me despite not even wanting to talk to me or give me advice better block me! I'm an adult woman and I make all decisions on my own.I'm not trying to "fit in" and be like everyone else - just to get more attention.Accept me for who I am or let go - is my motto.
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Hello guys! 🙂 (read everything before you decide to send me a message) Please send me a message ONLY If you're in the same situation and If your expectations are the same as mine.I want to find like minded people from Europe (Why Europe? Read my post to find out) I'm looking for something permanent (remember - you can feel lonely even If you're surrounded by others - If there's no emotional bond) I'm fed up of meeting people who never make time for me & only text me once or twice a week to ask me "what are you up to?" Out of boredom.I don't want to meet people asking others a million of questions like "what's your favorite movie?" Just to give them one word answer and ask them another question "and music? Your favorite song?" I'm looking for something "deeper" & different 🙂
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What kind of friend would I like to find? Someone to talk to on a daily basis - Someone who needs It & wants It just as much as me
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What are my expectations? I would like to meet someone in a similar situation – why? Because I honestly feel like only a person with the same expectations and a similar outlook on life would get along with me & because I feel more comfortable talking to people like me..Friendless people who need a strong bond - people without friends and partners.. Don't get me wrong…Most people deserve to be happy and It's good to have friends but people who have friends or families in real life are usually more focused on them (which is completely understandable) & have less time for others + I simply don't want to be replaced by anyone..I kind of envy people who can call others , true friends given I don't have an emotional bond with any of my acquaintances. Please send me a message only If you're not In a relationship and don't have friends for the same reasons I've already mentioned before
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Whenever I hear that others have friends I simply get sad because (believe it or not) If I had to choose between 20 people to talk to (acquaintances) and one special person - I'd choose that one special person without any hesitation .
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I also want to talk to others every day because..I want to see someone’s effort & be someone's first choice - not another person to have random conversations with..some people ask me "Why do you want to talk to people from Europe?" Well..Because I would like to see someone I'd get along with - In the far future - face to face :) + I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to receive a message - waiting 6 hours to receive a message is more than enough
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I'm by no means criticizing people who don't want to talk to others often / People who really are super busy & People who want to find someone to have unimportant conversations with - I'm aware that not everyone has the same expectations which is why everything you're reading now - is here for a reason :) All I'm suggesting is - I don't want anything temporary and I don't want to be the one always giving more than receiving.Listen people - I used to ignore being..ignored by others..always being just an option to talk to during tough times or moments of boredom.I was too young to realize that I was never important enough for most people that were a part of my life. I don't know who needs to hear this but..No one is too busy to make time for you! People make excuses to avoid others because they prioritize everything and (maybe) everyone..over them. It's true that most people are busy - but It takes only a few seconds to start a conversation (If you're into short messages) and a few minutes (1-10/15) to type a long message . Don't let anyone lie to you.
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Truth is that most people either don't like you enough to make time for you or just simply - feel no need to talk to others often but are they too busy? No..You don't need to send me a message just to ask me and tell me "Do you really want to talk every day? I like long messages but I can't promise to contact you often" If you really are unsure please don't send me a message.I don't need more acquaintances aka people to talk to - occasionally.
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I'm not trying to sound rude but conversations once or twice a week wouldn't be enough for me and I don't need them... Let me tell you one thing – A true friend would never just give up on you for no reason :) It’s always possible to find someone to have a random conversation with – someone willing to send you one message once or twice a week..but..It’s almost impossible to find people willing to make more time for you.
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I’m not asking a busy person to make time for me by changing some plans! Absolutely not! I’m here to find someone who wants to talk daily (throughout the day or maybe even night) of one’s own will.Someone looking for the same kind of connection.Strong friendships are based on mutual support. One of the best things you can do for a friend in need, is just to be there for them when they want to talk.I often see posts from people who always say how friendless they are because they don't feel loved or appreciated by their "friends" remember! A true friend - someone who truly likes you or someone who wants to get to know you - will always find time for you.
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I'm not interested in small talk/short messages - I love long and meaningful conversations. It's so easy to find someone who loves abbreviations and questions like "How are you?" How was your day? Or what are you interested in? But so hard/almost impossible to find a person who knows how to keep a conversation going & show others some effort.Building and maintaining friendships takes time and effort.Never allow pursuits or possessions to become bigger priorities than your relations with other people.Close friendships are so important to us because they are so difficult to form + Having friends can help you feel as if you belong to something that brings purpose and connection to your life
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• I do NOT respond to any „Hey,hmu” or „u want to talk?” type of messages (super short messages or messages full of abbreviations – I literally can’t stand abbreviations and acronyms in text messages) ALL messages full of abbreviations will immediately be ignored.I also don't like it when people ignore everything I say in private messages just to focus on a random question or? When they start talking only about themselves and don't ever ask me anything. I love conversations with people referring to everything I say...I want everything I say and do - to be reciprocated
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• No NSFW profiles (checking mental health subreddits NOT included as I'm a huge empath and always try to understand others) - Please! I'm not looking for anyone to flirt with and I'm not looking for a partner either. I always check people's profiles (even comment history) - To avoid guys, trying to get inappropriate pictures from adult women or? flirt with them + I don't want to see you with no clothes on so If you're on Reddit only because you want others to see what's underneath your clothes - I'm not for you! I just simply don't want to see any s e x related activity on your profile If you want to talk to me.
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• If both of us (you and I) are from the same country (I live in a non-English speaking country) - I want to communicate with you in our first language! No - Not because I don't understand English - because as you see - I do. Why then? English is simply overrated and people don't appreciate other languages as much as they should. So.. If we're from the same country and you want to talk only in English (which is quite common on reddit) - Talk to someone else. I just don't want to talk to a person from the same country as mine - in a foreign language as It's just something I don't understand even If all you want is to improve your language skills
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• Please only adult people 18-36 (age range) It doesn't matter to me If you're younger or older than me (as long as you're not underage) So.. don't worry! I just want to have discussions with emotionally mature people :)
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• I don’t respond to messages I don’t find interesting even If they're long - If after receiving and reading your message I don't feel comfortable or think "I wouldn't get along with him/her" I simply do not respond (what I’m suggesting is that I don’t always respond to someone’s first or second message because..sometimes you just know If you’d get along with someone or not- I’d never ignore anyone after days or weeks of daily conversations though) just because I don’t want to do anything forcefully & because I don’t want to lead anyone on. I read all messages but I definitely don't respond to all of them! I want to make it clear because I don't want to be accused of not responding and not reading people's messages! - Some people don't message me back as well and even If It's a bit disappointing I'm ok with that! - as long as there's no emotional bond - Not responding to someone's first or second message Is completely OK! If people think they wouldn't get along with a stranger - is there a reason to start a conversation? I don't think so. I can't stand being ignored after days or weeks of daily conversations and seeing people changing priorities over time.. but that's something different - something I don't want to go through ever again for real. If I'm really interested in someone's message it's impossible to hear from me "I'm too busy" because I know myself and If I had no time for others - I wouldn't be here. I don't want to pretend someone I'm not and always try to find some cheap excuses to avoid others. (unlike most people who don't want to talk to others)
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• Don’t ask me “Can you tell me something about yourself?” If you really want to get to know me - you can ask me questions :) I'm an open book.
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• It would be better If you guys were into emojis - like me - to describe your emotions In text messages. Two emojis - 🙂 and 🙁 are completely enough! I just don't like emotionless conversations.I also don't like it when people say "yeah" or yea"as it sounds dismissively. First impression Is everything to me! I want to see your kindness even in a text message - Emojis are very helpful to express your emotions.I don't want to meet people who say "crying Is a weakness" - It's OK to cry even If you're a guy!
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• I want to talk on reddit first (just to make sure If I'd get along with you) before moving to Discord or some other app
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• I would rather talk to a homebody - not another person who always has something to do as people who are very busy don't even have time for daily conversations
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• If you're another person interested only in "childish conversations" such as "HEYOOO! I'M BORED! Ya like Pizza or cheese? xDDDD 🤣" I'm begging you! Don't send me a message.I'm not a child anymore and such messages don't make me smile or laugh.I'm looking for someone interested In serious discussions - not another person just seeking some entertainment out of boredom . Conversations with sarcastic undertones (even when It comes to some emojis such as 🤣😂) are not for me. Your typing style matters to me! Why? when It comes to online conversations with someone new - It's not always possible to know If someone Is laughing at you.. or with you. Let me tell you something else! Jokes about cancer, disabilities and death are UNACCEPTABLE to me. If you find joy In someone else's misfortune you are not a person I want to know.
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• Time response matters to me a lot! I would never ask anyone to be online all day long and I'm NOT asking any of you for any instant messaging as I'm someone who would rather wait an hour or two to receive a proper response instead of some short and pointless messages but I'm interested only in daily conversations and I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to get a message from you.I don't need unbelievably long messages either! Messages as long as the second paragraph of my post - are completely enough. If you like longer messages? you can send me a longer message, but If you want to send me one word or one sentence as a response to my post - don't expect a reaction from me. I don't want to come across as rude - I just don't want to waste your time
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• I'm strongly AGAINST picking on people you don't even want to chat with - and making fun of them! I can't stand people who criticize others publicly or make fun of them! (only because they disagree with someone they don't even know) There's no place In my life for someone using Reddit, to hurt other people
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• I'm not into foul language and I definitely don't want to talk to people who swear a lot...
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• I want to meet assertive people who know what they want and always stand up for their friends
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• I want to meet someone willing to call me In the future, someone spontaneously sending me pictures of animals or food, et cetera. I want more than just text conversations.. 🌻
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Why can’t you see any of my hobbies listed down below? Because what really matters to me is..who you are (If you’re honest, talkative ,understanding, caring and trustworthy – for example) just simply – It matters to me what you’re like! not what you like.Don’t get me wrong – you can tell me what your hobbies are but from my point of view - people's hobbies are important - If you want to find a gaming buddy or If you want to meet someone to hang out with in real life and..go bowling for example.What most people seem to care about are other people's passions – I don’t. I get along with other people despite having completely different hobbies but I absolutely don’t get along with people way different than me (different expectations and outlook on life – way different sense of humor or personality traits – It’s just an example) It doesn't make ANY DIFFERENCE to me If you're a gamer or? Someone interested in photography! It doesn't make any difference - > as long as you're talkative and kind and If you also want to find someone willing to stay in your life..for good - But If you're into small talk and all you want is to...type and receive super short messages or If you're here only because you're bored and don't know what to do + If you're a very sarcastic person - I'm definitely not for you! I don't get along with overly sarcastic people turning everything into a joke. Friendships should be natural – not forced. I wouldn't get along with people who laugh at everything.. In my opinion most people are way too sarcastic.. It's quite sad... Sarcasm can also be another form of passive-aggressive behavior.
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People who want to be to friends should feel comfortable and have something in common. No - not necessarily a similar taste in music or movies but something else..Most friendships don't fizzle out because of people not having the same hobbies but..because they just simply have different expectations when It comes to something important.I'm not here out of boredom and trust me - I'm not here to meet as many people as possible.I choose quality over quantity.I highly value myself and my time & Sometimes one person but a person who makes you feel comfortable and understood - is more than enough :) We ALL can choose what kind of people we’d like to talk to and maybe even become really good friends with and I? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.We all have some expectations after all.I know that people don't have to talk as often as possible in order to become friends but I'm interested only in daily conversations. If you really need someone to talk to due to loneliness and If you have time to talk to me daily (throughout the day and maybe even night) I always make time for others.I'm literally always available.I could even stay up all night long only to talk to someone important to me. I’m ready to commit but only If there’s some chemistry between me and someone else.I don’t do anything forcefully.
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If you want to talk to me tell me your story - tell me why you're here, what kind of friend would you like to meet :) Et cetera.Such messages are way more interesting to me than...someone's long list of hobbies. I know! It's unusual on reddit but I don't make friends based on hobbies..I want to meet someone with the same mindset as mine to finally feel understood and get close to someone new. You can share your problems with me - I absolutely don't mind "complaining" as I've been through a lot in my life.What do people usually tell you when you tell them that something's wrong? "Don't complain" or "Life's not over yet - one day you'll be happy" or "There are worse situations than yours" and..obviously "Find a therapist" Life's not a fairytale and sometimes things don't go as planned.Emotions shouldn't be bottled up.I'm sick of people always telling others "everything's gonna be ok" move on " & more..Trust me people - not everyone wants to hear "Just believe in yourself and everything's gonna be ok" Some people take it as reassurance - but others? They would rather hear something different 🙁Imagine being told that things will be okay, only for them to get worse..Do you guys know why telling someone "everything's gonna be ok" Is wrong? Because you can't see the future.
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You can't guarantee others that one day they'll finally be happy + when It comes to social interactions - We're responsible only for ourselves - not others & as you guys know people let us down quite often (sometimes even when there's no reason) so instead of telling people how they should move on, forget everything and be happy or asking them to find a therapist - be there for them! Always be willing to listen to them If you really like them or want to get to know them & don't suggest everyone in a tough situation to find a therapist because even the best therapist won't ever replace a true friend + It's quite normal to be disappointed If people always do something to hurt you. Sharing your hardships with other people in a very similar situation or exactly the same one - is VERY helpful If the other person understands you & wants to start all over by just letting it all out! Feeling emotional support instead of always hearing some "positive quotes" or someone saying "Stop complaining let's talk about something else - Is very important! "Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. I appreciate sensitive people who always try to understand others. If after hearing a sad story all you want to say is "forget the past and move on" you're not for me. It's important to be a good listener and provide emotional support to others
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Please - If you're a completely different person than the described type of person I'm looking for (If you love abbreviations,If you don't need a stable friendship, If you're sarcastic and quiet) or If you simply disagree with my post - don't force yourself to send me a message.I want my new potential friendship to be natural which is why I want you to contact me only If your needs are the same - I don't want you to pretend someone you're not - only to please me - Pretending to be someone you're not - is the worst.I want to finally be happy again & find someone "always" wanting to talk - sending me random pictures throughout the day - food pictures or pictures of some animals. What is the most important to me? I want to find people who value online friendships as much as they would value real life ones as there's another human being on the other side
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No comments please.Only Private messages and chat requests 🌺
I know It's possible to meet people with exactly the same expectations as mine but It's just not easy because most people are Interested In temporary and entertaining conversations. People like me are just "different" I really want to finally find someone who loves emojis as much as I do.. someone who loves sweet, warm and serious discussions at the same time. Emojis really do - change conversations 😊

For some context, a tech-priest has discovered a Genestealer Cult on a Mechanicus world and has decided to use them for his own ends. He tells them that he will wipe them out unless they perform an uprising during the national "Ascension Day" celebrations, where he will use the chaos they create to seize power for himself.
The Magus of the cult Claress is old and decrepit, she feels that they missed the time they were actually meant to rise up decades ago and the cult has atrophied since then. Worse, after a series of failed raids their best fighters were killed or imprisoned. She knows they have no chance against the crack Mechanicus troops who have pressed the world for generations but facing no other option the Cult begins its preparations and sends messages to the uncorrupted workers unions and factories that have pledged their support if an uprising against the Mechanicus happens (not knowing that they're dealing with a cult).
I like this section as while it falls into the modern 40k novel habit of listing a bunch of codex units and describing how they fight, I think that it does a good job of portraying the awkward beginnings of an uprising, where nobody actually knows what will happen that spirals into the Genestealer Cult suddenly realising that if they work together they might have a chance.

‘This is the end of us,’ she hissed. ‘The priest will use us, and then he will destroy us. Or imprison us in his jars and make us his experiments. All our ways, our traditions, our faith. He will melt it out of us. There will be nothing left but his science.’
‘Child…’ Claress repeated.
‘We should flee,’ Davien almost shouted at her. ‘All of us, each to a different hole. We should abandon this city. We should carry our words and our blood to other places. We’re finished here! I’m sorry, magus, I’m sorry.’ And she was simultaneously weeping and incandescent with rage. At herself, at Triskellian, at Claress. ‘I have ruined us! I’m a traitor. Punish me, magus. Destroy me.’
‘You have listened to the lies of the enemy, it is true,’ Claress said softly. Her hand fell on Davien’s shoulder, a husk of a thing, no weight to it. ‘And you may be punished in time, that is also true. But for now, you are one of us, and you must play your part in what is to come.’
‘But it’s a sham!’ Davien exclaimed. ‘It’s some Taskmaster plan, some infighting between them. It isn’t the time!’ Struck by a sudden hope, she searched the old woman’s face. ‘Is it? Is all this… the Emperor’s plan for us? Can it be?’ And before she could hear any empty comforts, she rushed on. ‘Tell me truly, magus. Please tell me.’
The sad calm on Claress’ face was heartbreaking. ‘I don’t know, child. I wish I could give you all the grand certainties in the world. I wish I could give you the words of fire and faith I’d speak in the chapel, of the Many-Handed Emperor and His angels. But that is what faith is for, Davien.’ She sagged, sinking in on herself a little more. ‘Take me to my chamber. I must rest before tomorrow.’
‘You can’t take to the streets, magus. Not you.’
‘I must. We all shall play our part. We shall triumph together, or we shall fall. I do not want to be left alone if my kin are taken from me.’
Davien led her deeper into the maze of cellars. All around, the Congregation were in a frenzy of preparation. The building was haemorrhaging the faithful as they rushed out to carry the magus’ words across all the poor districts of the city. Out there, all Davien’s distant kin would be arming themselves. And the others, all those who weren’t blood but who had suffered beneath the crushing iron boot of the tech-priests, they’d be gathering too. All of them cast against the iron walls of the Hollow Men.
When she had Claress back to the old woman’s bed, she helped her lie down, hearing joints click and crack. The magus lay there, staring at the low ceiling, then shifted her head to look at the painting of the Emperor on the far wall. It was flaking now, half-obscured with grime. A depiction from the time of the Great-Aunts and Uncles, when the blood of the Emperor was stronger in them, so that none of the Congregation could show their faces for fear of being known for what they were. A figure with four arms: two human hands and two with radiant claws like crescent moons. An elliptical head split by a great benevolent smile that was all teeth. The eyes were beatific, murderous, inhuman. Davien had stared at the image often, feeling out its contradictions, letting them speak to the human and the inhuman within her. It frightened her; it inspired her.
‘I hear them singing to me.’ Claress’ dry voice rose to her. ‘The angels. They throng the cold void. And I sing back. I tell them, We are here. We are faithful. We’re waiting for you. And their great wings carry them across the freezing spaces, through the perilous labyrinth of the warp. They are coming, Davien. They tell me, We hear you. We come for you. Only have faith, and you shall become part of us. The Blessed Union, child. Our destiny.’ She laughed softly, coughed, shuddering with each dry convulsion. ‘They came from the stars, our ancestors. The first on Morod to bear our blood was an angel’s child, and so we are children of angels. But weaker, each generation. I lack the strength of the Aunts, the might of the Great-Aunts. I am too human to be truly strong. But I hear them, Davien. They are so beautiful. There is nothing on this ugly world to compare to them. I need to see them with my own eyes, before I grow too old.’
And Davien, one of the diminished survivors of a younger generation still, thought about how thin her own blood was, how little of the angel remained. ‘Do you think the priests’ Ascension Day will be our ascension too? Or will all our blood just end up on the streets and in that priest’s laboratory?’
Claress’ yellow gaze switched to her. ‘Faith is all that we have, when the machinery of this world comes to crush us. I hear the angels. They come to us, but space is vast and the warp is a trickster. All we can do is believe that the Many-Handed Emperor will not abandon His faithful in their time of need. That He is a true divinity, beyond the enthroned corpse the machine-priests worship. Our god lives, Davien. Our god is life, life in all its many forms and guises. Theirs is dust and ancient mechanisms. We must prevail, or we give the universe over to entropy and death. Only by our truths can life eternal survive and spread throughout the cosmos. Do you understand me, child? Do you have faith?’
And Davien thought, We are going to die tomorrow, on the streets and in their arena. This is not the true uprising we were promised, it is some priest’s gambit. But she couldn’t hold to those thoughts against the old woman’s rustle of a voice. It got under her skin. It spoke to all those services in the buried chapel. It spoke to her blood.
Easy to have faith when you were strong, after all. And what was the value of it, then? But they stood under the steel hammer of the tech-priests, and they would rise up nonetheless. Let Triskellian think it was all to his plan. The Congregation would rise because it was their time. Who said that he was using them? And even though, intellectually, she knew the truth, she still felt that fire in her, that burned away all doubt.
‘I believe, magus,’ she said fiercely. ‘Tell me what I must do.’
The next dawn, even as the tech-priests were attending their early Ascension Day devotions, the streets of the South Chasm districts erupted into armed uprising.
Davien saw it from the rooftops, crossing from building to building by the gantries, bridges and ropes that the skitarii periodically brought down but the locals always strung up again. All night the Congregation’s messengers had been running like sparks through the poorer districts of the city, seeing which claves would catch their fires. All of the true faithful rose up without question, of course. Right now she could only see the more inarguably human of them, those marked only by a pallidity of skin, patches of chitinous scales, unblinking yellow eyes perhaps. No unusual traits on as poisonous a world as this. Behind and within the walls of the tenements, though, the older generations of the god-touched would be stirring; would be eager. They had waited all their long lives, after all. They had hidden away as their younger offspring had busied themselves in the world, unable to show their distorted faces. They had known only the burning fire of their faith, and now that faith told them, Rise!
The streets were thronging with people, just ordinary people. And yet, not ordinary, for in many of those bodies a few drops of divine blood ran. But they were not the superhuman figures of Imperial myth. Not the Adeptus Astartes that had been made into little gods; not the tech-priests, elevated by machinery until they had forgotten what it was like to have two living feet on the ground. People, with nothing but their faith, and what tools and weapons they could scavenge or make themselves. And today they would attempt to wrest control of their destiny from those who had ordered and limited their whole lives.
And they would die, she knew. Heavy-hearted she watched them muster, factorum workers clapping each other on the shoulder, hard greetings called across the crowd. There were banners there, and some were of the Many-Handed Emperor Scattering His Angels Upon the Faithful, but there were others, too. Crude standards celebrating this ward or that factorum, this mining crew, even one for the staff of a workers’ refectory. There was an air of festival, just as if they were celebrating the damned Ascension Day after all.
And then the first skitarii came into sight. Davien knew she should be away by now, off on the errand that Claress had given her, but she couldn’t. She had to see if the whole venture would collapse into tragedy.
A wedge of red-clad cybernetic soldiers ordered itself precisely across the street ahead of the gathering mob. Behind them, a pair of dragoons stalked in, towering over the soldiers’ heads. Their riders couched forked lances snapping with sparks, even as the servitor beneath them, merged with the workings of the machine, directed the Ironstrider’s jerky motions. The crowd stilled, seeing all those carbines levelled at them, knowing more would be on the way.
The skitarii alpha called out, voice amplified until it rattled Davien’s skull like thunder. ‘By the order of the Fabricator General, you are required to disperse. There will be no second warning.’
And Claress stepped forwards from the ranks of the crowd, standing ahead of them, raising her staff. Somehow her high, clear voice carried even to Davien. ‘Faith and freedom! Faith for the true Emperor’s blood! Freedom from the yoke!’
The skitarii opened fire.
Davien screamed when they did it, curled away from the blaze and heat of it, knowing this was surely the end even as the uprising began. But in the echo of the shots she dared look, and saw Claress somehow untouched, standing with bodies to her left and right, the faithful who had put themselves in harm’s way. And not so many bodies, even, not compared to the vast mass of humanity that was packing the street. Angry humanity, crammed with grievances.
Claress’ voice called out again, and now she was sounding the charge. Davien saw members of the Congregation break into a run on either side of her, funnelling through the streets in a great rush, wielding hammers and prybars and power-cutters, emptying their shotguns and automatics into the skitarii wedge. The dragoons were in motion instantly, striding over the heads of their human-sized allies, accelerating into a counter-charge with lances lowered. Davien saw the first connect, its huge iron feet sending insurgents flying even as the lance swept an arc through the crowd, charring and burning. Then an eye-rending beam of light seared into it. One of the mining crews had a rock laser set up on the rooftop across from Davien and they drew lines of molten steel across the dragoon’s chassis before striking something vital.
In an instant the walking machine flashed incandescently and exploded, laying waste to the nearest fighters in a horrible toll of shrapnel and shredded flesh. For everyone left standing, though, that was the signal to rush forwards. Moments later the skitarii were giving ground, shooting and falling back. Or just falling, dragged down by the crowd who saw them as nothing more than the tools of their oppressors.
And then Davien was off, roof to roof, eyes open for when the tech-priests’ more subtle instruments decided the higher reaches were their territory. There would be rangers up here sniping down at the crowd soon enough. There would be the murderous rust-stalkers trying to flank the Congregation to bring down its leaders with their blades and claws. She had to be ahead of all of that. She had work to do, a task entrusted to her by the magus herself.
She shadowed the forerunners of the mob until they exploded out before Nilhetum Square, where the rail depot was. More of the Palatium’s troops were disembarking even as everyone arrived, hurriedly evacuating the train and taking up position to defend it. And if the Congregation wished to reach the Palatium, they needed to control the train line, and they needed to take it swiftly before the tech-priests began destroying their own infrastructure to deny it to the rebels.
There were more than just skitarii out there. She saw the low, trundling shapes of Kataphron servitors grinding down ramps from flatbed carriages, armoured human head, torso and arms set into a mechanised assault vehicle that was also their lower body. Davien felt a flare of rage at the tech-priests and their meddling. They took the divine flesh and carved it and pared it down, merged it with their devices. Nothing could be left alone. Nothing had any value until it was incorporated into their machines. And, on a grander scale, no individual lives had worth unless they were components of the wider priestly engine that spanned the human universe and enslaved everything it touched to their cold metal vision.
The Kataphron were terrors, nigh invulnerable to the weapons the foot-soldiers of the Congregation had brought, but by now the rioters had been given the chance to bring in their own big guns. With a choking roar and a belch of smoke one of the big quarry trucks raced out of a side street, already up to its lumbering top speed. It was a heavily armoured Goliath model, its entire front given over to rock-grinding blades that would chew hungrily on skitarii machine-flesh or the armour of the Kataphron. And, in its wake, a flurry of robed figures bearing a banner showing that familiar many-armed figure. The Aunts and the Uncles had come out from their cellars and holes, from their forgotten wall-spaces where they had waited for generations. Even as the Goliath powered forwards, meeting the lead Kataphron head-on and making a jagged mess of its armour, the elders were leaping around and over it, brandishing knives, pistols, or just their own hooked talons. And there was more. Davien felt a voice in her head, then. A singing so pure and beautiful that she thought it must be the angels, come at last. All the Congregation must have heard it, from the way they redoubled their pace and closed joyously with the skitarii and the machines.
A great figure, head and shoulders over the rank and file, had come into the square – a Great-Aunt, one of the true elders, shrouded in streamers and rags of cloth that could not hide the divinity of her form. She sang, and the Congregation echoed her, voices upraised in prayer and praise. In one of her three hands was a banner, not the crude handmade things the crowd had spent last night creating but something ancient, preserved for this day over generations. It showed not the expected Imperial visage, but an emblem with that same long-jawed head and a trailing cog-backed body; a serpentine shape curled in upon itself, one end a hooked claw, the other hungering jaws ready to devour the tech-priests and all their works.
The skitarii turned their weapons on her, blasting away, but the banner had electrified the Congregation so that they were swarming the lines, clambering over the Kataphron, braving the massed fire of their foes. Davien saw explosives go off, mining charges devastating bodies on both sides. She saw brutal knots of knife-work and bayonets and the bludgeoning butts of carbines, no quarter given.

I'm 33. Married to an emotionally abusive mess of a woman. She's the naggy, negative, hateful, and one that always looked pissed at the world. As a bonus, she gets mad at me whenever, I, simply enjoy the little things like watching my favorite show or some sh like that.
There was always this one dude who was my bestfriend and we would always kinda vent out to each other about our horrible married life. Til one day, his wife caught him cheating on her and that's when he decided to leave everything behind. I stopped being friends with him because he did a lot of shi**y things that I couldn't understand anymore.
But today, I just realised that I have no one. I don't tend to show when I'm depressed nor even talk about it because I've just gotten usef to bottling everything up.

TLDR: This are my first impressions of the Peak Design backpack 30l, chosen for its dual use as a camera and travel bag. I sought a modular solution after using the Thule DSLR backpack 32l. Positive aspects include a sleek design, modular packing, easy-sliding zippers, comfort with 7-8 kg weight, and good capacity with compression zippers. Negatives are the dangling zipper pull, uncertainty about zipper appearance in its uncompress state and sternum straps' effectiveness, the bag's height, and a weak bottom magnetic pocket. I will further explore the top access pocket and internal mesh pockets, which have been criticized for being too small and camera-centric.
If you have any questions or things you want me to check out, please leave a comment. Also: I am not affiliated with Peak Design. I just want to give back to this community I have learned so much from since I stumbled in here six years ago.
Why did I get it?
As many have pointed out on this sub, this backpack is quite heavy, tall and expensive. If that is a dealbreaker for you, then this backpack is probably not for you.
But who is it for, and why did I choose this?
I came from the Thule DSRL backpack 32l, a bag I felt it had too many compartments and pockets and were too tall when packing the rolltop out. It was a nice and sturdy backpack, but the side access did not work very well when sliding the back to the side in order to get your camera out. I sold The Thule DSRL backpack 32l and my Thule Subterra 40L and got the peak design 30l. I wanted a dedicated cameraback, that also could be used as a travel backpack only, that also could be used wi hybrid mode with the small camera cube.
That beeing said, getting a cameracube for your current backpack could be more than enough if you plan to only bring a camera every now and then, and a lot cheaper than getting a peak design bag. I see my purchase as an investment for prossional work, traveling. I am recently doing more traveling at conferences and meetings for work that requires a more sleek looking backpack.
So all in all this versitily and ecosystem seemed like a good fit for traveling, and for film and photagraåhy gigs as a dedicated camerabag as well as fitting into more formal settings.
What I think this bag gets a bit to much critisism for compared to the 45l is the lack of side access zippers. The large zippers easily slides to the sides witch can double as side access pockets if you pack your bag strategically. I like this now, but it will be interesting to see if it will feel cumbersome in the long term.
I think the criticism of the shoulder straps are individual and something you would have to try out your self. When I packed it up to a total weight of 8kg (7.3kg plus a 0.7 desiliter water bottle) and did a 11 km test walk, it never felt heavy on the shoulders with the sternum straps attached. Some of the pressure from the weight also distributes into the back, giving a three point pressure on the chest, shoulders and the back. But the straps are thin though, and I wish they would have made them a bit wider like on my subterra 34 that is equally thin, but wider.
What I like so far:

• Sleek looking
• Keeps its shape even when empty
• Minimalist and modular packing philosophy - I like less pockets rather than a lot of them.
• Every zippers easily slides compared to every other backpack I've used.
• The main compartment zippers doubles as side access pockets of you move it onto the sides, du to how easily the zippers slide.
• Comfortable to carry over longer distances (in my short term experience) with 7-8 kgs of weight - the variable being a water bottle.
• Packs a lot more than I thought it would.
• The expansion zippers can be used to compress the entire bag down - if you haven't fully packed it out in 33 liter mode. Be careful doing this as it is not advertized and I do not know if the zippers will endure it in the long term or if you stuff it in 33 liter expanded mode and try to compress it down.
• Grab handles on all sides are very nice for putting the bag into over head bins.
• Very nice top grab handle.
• Very easy to tuck away the shoulder straps.
• The fact that you can get a hip belt as an accessory for carrying heavier loads.

What I dislike

• The zipper pullfrom the compression zipper dangles arround on either side either if compressed or uncompressed - solved by not zipping it all the way down.
• I am not sure what I think about the look of the zippers in its uncompressed state.
• The sternum straps seems like a good idea on paper, but not sure if it is a nice long term solution
• The backpack is a bit tall for my frame - but an OK compromise to use the same packing cubes and camera cubes as the 45l
• As others have pointed out, the bottom magnetic pocket really seems like a missed opportunity. It would have been nice to have stronger magnets or even a zipper in order to put in stuff like a rain jacket, rain cover etc for quick access. Now it seems so unsafe for storing stuff it is more or less a useless pocket.
• The dangling straps from the shoulder straps - many other backpacks av straps holders for this very purpose.
• Heavy compared to non camera-bags
• Tall compared to other bags

What I will further explore in order to make an informed opinion.

• The top access pocket
• The mesh pockets inside the main compartments
• The lack of large tech pocket compared to the 45l
• The lack of bundled hipbelt.

These pockets have been criticized for being too small, too camera gear centric, and unaccessible. I will try find a use case for them over the course of the next weeks and months and get some real world experience using them.
I do not think a hibbelt is a necessity for all users, but for camera gigs with longer walks I will need it.

Please understand I’m not looking for sympathy and before people start saying “you’re not stupid” “how can you say that about yourself” I’ve literally been called stupid by friends, classmates, and family since I was 4 years old. I’m in my early 30s now and can say I’ve without doubt done stupid things so I don’t want to hear people say I shouldn’t call myself and idiot when I am. I feel like I’m a functioning person with no common sense whatsoever causing me to get by in life while being a complete idiot along the way.
Now, having said that I managed to get by in school, despite my stupidity and I obtained overall average grades. Afterwards I went university and graduated with a below average marks but admittedly this was due to me doing literally no work when I was in university. I pretty much spent at a push 10% of my time studying. Foolish I know and was doing a challenging degree.
Despite that set back I pursued a career in banking and so far earn above the London average salary. Things on paper don’t actually seem to be bad right? Yet I do stupid things from time to time. In addition to this my memory is bad, particularly my short term memory. It’s caused me humiliation over the years and even as of recent. It makes me so depressed when I think of all the dumb things I’ve done over the years and feel like I’d be the happiest person in the world if not for my stupidity. I feel like I’d be sooo much more confident in myself if not for my stupidity. Below are some examples of the stupid and weird things I’ve done over the years:
1) Bad memory - will do something and forget a couple mins later at times; like forgetting the number of the locker I put my gym clothes in, when I was learning to drive I kept forgetting the basics such as putting the handbrake fully down. There are times where I’d forbid myself to say something only to stupidly say it a few minutes later. - there are more examples I could use but simply put this is my primary issue and it’s gotten a little worse as I’ve gotten older.
2) Sometimes I can’t hear things properly- I’ll hear words but not the right words forming at times - but this maybe happens a handful of times a year if that. Not an everyday thing at all but nonetheless still a problem.
3) Forgetting to open the wine bottle cap before pouring into the glass a few times on dates.
4) Not knowing that paracetamol could be classed as a painkiller. Always just referred to it as medicine.
5) Sometimes I’ll read something then temporarily forget it. E.g. on someone’s Instagram post a woman said she was having a boy. In the subsequent post showing the birth of her baby for some reason I thought it would be a girl just because the pictures looked like it would be one.
6) Only recently classing coffee as a hot drink. For whatever reason i classed hot drinks as hot lemonade or hot versions of any other forms of fruit juice.
7) Didn’t realise “cuppa” meant coffee for some reason. Whilst I was familiar with the phrase cuppa coffee for some reason if someone just said “cuppa” I’d be a little puzzled.
8) As a child I was known for throwing a ball and doing pushups weirdly. - maybe this was an early sign of poor motor skills?
I think you guys get the idea, I’m an idiot. I could list so much more examples but don’t want this turning into a long winded essay.
In addition to the above I’ve always struggled with concentration, distractibility and of course poor memory which makes me think I have ADD or maybe some form of dyspraxia.
As mentioned above I’m not seeking sympathy or attention I just want straightforward answers on how I can get better and whether the above examples could be linked to a form of learning disability. I just want to get better and potentially receive treatment via the NHS.
Thanks

Whatever you do, never drink to cure a mental issue.
First
Previous
You know the drill: credit to SpacePaladin15 for the universe.
Thank you JulianSkies for proofreading.
Memory Transcription Subject: Gillab, Gojid Citizen, Father
Date [Standardized Human Time]: March 28, 2142
I made sure to wake up as early as possible so I could do what I needed to do before Billy woke up. First things first, get rid of all the liquor in that fridge. If Billy was going to get better, the first thing he needed to do was stop drinking. He was only running from his problems and as long as he had that out he was going to take it.
I pulled a trash bag in front of the fridge, propped it open as best I could, and started stuffing it full of bottles. Cheap Venlilian liquor was being poured down the drain by the second, it almost made me feel bad for anything living in the sewers. This stuff had enough alcohol in it to kill someone, a rat would be dead in seconds.
By the time I poured the last bottle down the drain, I had probably sanitized the entirety of the New York sewer system. I hoisted the bag onto my back, making sure not to break the bag with my quills, and started to make my way to the dumpster. Thankfully Billy’s apartment was on the first floor so the journey wasn’t too long.
I tossed the bag into the dumpster carelessly, causing a few of the bottles to break when they hit the others that had been thrown in yesterday. It was only the second day, but I felt like we had already made some progress. I was able to make him admit he was just scared of feeling the pain of his memories, even if it was only accidental. Small steps were still steps, now all I had to do was make him realize that he didn’t deserve this. I have a feeling that once he jumps that hurdle, everything should come much easier.
A familiar song brought me out of my thoughts, drawing my attention to my phone. I had changed the ringtone to the first Human song I had ever heard, T-Shirt, to always remind me of my time on the Cradle. I pulled out my phone and accepted the call, smiling as I saw just who it was.
“High sweety, having a good morning?”
The camera shook up and down in sync with my daughter's face. “Yeah, but I wish you were here.”
“Oh sweety, I know you do, but I have some important work to do and I can’t come home. Just know that I will always love you. Now you have a good day at school, you hear?”
“Mmhm, I will. Here’s mommy.”
The camera shook again as it passed from my daughter’s claws to my wife’s. In the background, I could hear the chitter of my daughter’s voice and then rapid footsteps away. When the camera stopped shaking, I was met by the most beautiful woman in existence.
“Hello, Sweet-fruit.”
Kirala smiled and tilted her head. “Hello, my big guolo tree. I missed you this morning.”
“I missed you too. I had to sleep on an uncomfortable couch and I think it messed up my back a bit.”
“Oh, how the mighty veteran is felled! Surviving a plasma wound to the chest but felled by the mightier couch.”
I flicked an ear in amusement. “To be fair, it was one vicious couch.”
I couldn’t help but melt at her laugh, it was like sunshine during the darkest night. It was light and cheerful and genuine, and I couldn’t imagine myself living without it.
With a final few chuckles, Kirala pulled herself together enough to respond. “Well, it sounds like you need to wear some armor to bed then.”
I feigned a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I will, I already sleep with clothes on.”
She threw her head back in disgust. “Ugh, I still don’t know how you do that. I still feel a little uncomfortable when I wear them when I’m awake, I couldn’t imagine sleeping with them.”
“It’s an acquired taste, you’ll come around.”
“Mmhm, I’m suuure.”
I sighed. “How’s Julaly doing?”
“Well, she misses you, obviously, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. She was good yesterday, but we both wished you had given us a little more of a warning. I didn’t expect your little trip to the memorial to turn into an impromptu therapy session.”
“Sweet-fruit, you know I wish I could have too. It was sprung on me just as much as you. I’m just glad I found him when I did, do you know what I found in his room? A suicide note.”
Kirala gasped slightly. “Oh dear I… I really-”
“It’s fine. I didn’t know either. But just think, if I had come back for just one day, he would be dead. I made the right call here, even if I was torn at the time.”
“You need to get back to him then.”
“I’ve got a little longer. He’s still asleep. I was throwing away some alcohol when you called me, and when I get some free time I’m going to go to the nearby bars and tell them not to serve him. Today I’m thinking I’ll try and get him to go to a veterans’ meeting so he can connect with some others like him, let him know he’s not alone and it’s not just me who cares about him.”
“Still, you should go back to him. And stay safe. He sounds unstable, just keep an eye on him.”
“Sweet-fruit, he’s not dangerous.”
“You don’t know what’s going on in his head. Promise me you will stay safe.”
“I promise.”
“Like you mean it.”
“I promise with all of my heart that I will stay safe.”
“Good, now get back to it. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call blinked out and left me staring at my home screen. It was true that I missed them both dearly, even a day without them left me longing, but I knew what I was doing was right. Billy needed someone to save him, and I was the only one available. Kirala was right, I needed to get back to it. I couldn’t leave Billy alone for too long, it would only end in disaster.
As soon as the door clicked open, Billy descended upon me. “Gillab, what did you do?! Where’s the liquor?!”
I stepped past him and made my way to the living room. “I threw it all away. You were poisoning yourself and I needed to put an end to it.”
Billy was stunned for a moment. “You fucking- GILLAB! Get the FUCK out of my house!”
“I’m not going anywhere! Not until you heal!”
Billy looked back and forth, raising his arms in frustration. “What the FUCK does that even mean?! You keep spouting this fucking ‘healing’ word like it’s some catch-all miracle wonder word that means everything!”
“I mean, you need to come to terms with what you’ve done, accept them, and move on! Otherwise, you are just going to rot in this room for all eternity. You are so much better than this, and you know it. You are strong enough to carry on, and you know this. You know, deep down, that you don’t deserve this life. But you are stuck thinking that you do! I saw you at the memorial and I literally didn’t recognize you, remember? That is how much you have changed, but it doesn’t have to stay like this. You can end the pain, and not in that way, all you have to do is trust me. And not just say that you do.”
I paused for a moment to catch my breath. “You said that you would go through the motions for me, right? This is just another motion. The next one is to find other veterans who are or have been through what you have and talk to them. They will make you realize that you aren’t trash or a parasite or any of that! It’s just another motion, right?”
Billy growled and stormed towards me. “You are on thin fucking ice right now.”
“Good. It means you care. Now sit down, we are going to set up a meeting with a group of veterans.”
“I don’t want to go meet some fucking soldier. I’m fine without that.”
“It’s just the motions, right? Humor me.”
With a deep sigh, Billy sat in the chair across from me. That was all I needed to see to confirm it, Billy really did want help, he just couldn’t even admit it to himself.
“You still haven’t given me your promised speech from yesterday. The hour-long one about how much I don’t deserve what I’m doing to myself.”
“Oh trust me, it’s coming. But right now we are going to set up a date for you to meet a veterans’ group. After that, let’s clean up a little more, get some food, maybe go for a walk in a park, then you’ll get the speech. Okay?”
Billy rolled his eyes and waited for me to pull up a website. After a bit of scrolling, I found a phone number I could call to find a meeting time. I prepared everything and set the phone on the table, but didn’t call yet.
“Okay Billy, I’m leaving this up to you. All you have to do is say your name and ask for a time you can come to the meeting.”
“Why can’t you set it up for me?”
“That’s not how it works. You need to be the one that calls them, not me. Plus, I don’t think they would accept me signing you up. The person coming has to be the one to set it up. Are you ready?”
Billy sighed. “Yeah.”
I called the number, set the phone on a table between Billy and I, and waited. After a few rings, a man began to speak.
“Hello, you have reached Richard’s group therapy for veterans, how can I help you?”
Billy looked up to me for guidance, to which I only motioned for him to speak to the man. “H-hi Richard, m-my name is Billy. I was… wondering if I-I could join your next meeting.”
“Oh course, we are always open for more. You didn’t even need to call, you could have just shown up at the meeting. We accept anyone and everyone at any time. Our next meeting is tomorrow at noon if you are available. If not, the next one is that same day at six-thirty.”
Billy glanced at me twice before giving his answer. “The… six-thirty one sounds good.”
He was pushing it back as much as he could, but at least he would get to it eventually. There was some quiet clacking in the background before the man responded. “Great, I’ve reserved you a seat. I’m happy to have you join us. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s all. See you tomorrow.”
Billy set his phone down and sighed deeply. His face quickly changed from concerned and awkward to angry and annoyed. I could see him prepare to say something, but it ended up dying in his throat. Instead, he stood up suddenly and stomped back to his room, wanting to be left alone.

For a bit of context I’ve always struggled dating as the woman I attract are not what I’m looking for but the woman I like don’t like me?😆
So recently a lot of my friends have gotten girlfriends and this has left me feeling abit lonely, it’s not like I’m a ugly dude I’d say I’m very average appearance wise but I feel like I have a lot of other factors that are strong in my favour e.g without sounding like a dick I’m in shape, tall and financially successful. But I feel annoyed when I see other people my age who on paper seem very lack luster dating woman who seem amazing?
So my question is obviously I can’t really change my face structure but I’m already maximising things like hygiene, fashion and grooming aswell as trying to become the best man in every other aspect of my life but what areas stand out and are key things woman look?

NY state health dept. data shows COVID cases are up 50-60% in NYC in the last few weeks, even with so little testing. Same sources show COVID Hospitalizations are also up around 30% in NYC in similar time period.
Last week I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan for the first time since Feb. 2020 (I have a slight suspicion that's where I caught COVID in Feb. 2020, which led to my long COVID, but there are innumerable other options). I of course wore my N95, and I didn't I didn't hear many coughs or sneezes in the crowds, but there was one middle aged woman I remember constantly coughing and it did not sound good. No mask of course.
I was buying a bottle of wine in my neighborhood liquor store yesterday and there was a lady shopping in there who was coughing about every 5-10 seconds. Not a scary sounding cough, but constant -- no mask, of course, like 99% of people in New York City who virtually never mask.
Then I got home and out the windows of my fifth floor apartment building, that faces NOT onto the street but rather into a long narrow area bout 30 feet wide between my 6 floor and roughly 60 unit pre-war brick apt. building and multiple other similar structures (so just tons of people's windows open on this space) I heard someone very sick coughing their guts up -- just an awful cough, not that they were vomiting. This is not a familiar sound, so I don't think it's just someone with a chronic lung illness.
Just got up and having my morning coffee and hearing this same person's horrible cough again.
It's been a little while since I was hearing horrible coughs like this. I don't know why but I have this weird feeling this might be a pretty bad spring/summer wave we're going into. Also I've been looking at the rise in some of the wastewater data and it looks fast for the start of a wave, they usually begin a little more slowly. Stay safe and stay masked everyone.

I’ll preface this by saying I know there’s no excuse and I’m a total cunt. I’m under a lot of pressure and stress at the moment but that doesn’t excuse my actions, far from it.
Planned on having a few beers with my fiancé and watching the original Star Wars trilogy as she had never seen them. We’ve been having issues for months, mainly communication.
Everything started out fine, few beers, watched the first one, few more beers, put dinner on while we watched the second. During the second movie I ran out of beer. Now I should mention I have been doing a lot of thinking lately and decided I drink too much, and should cut down (24 pack over the weekend was pretty usual, I rarely drink spirits).
Once I ran out it was still quite early, around 7.30pm I think. While I was cooking I had an idea (a terrible one), I have a few bottles of spirits in the cupboard. I grabbed the sambuca and had a shot. I’ve only had that a couple of times in my life, last time was my 40th last year (this was a left over bottle, about 1/3 left).
I don’t remember the last half of the party, as apparently when I drink sambuca I blackout, turn into a cunt and spend the next day or two feeling like complete shit, thought it was a one off because of all the other booze I’d had that night, nope.
I went back a few more times for another shot, and before you know it the bottle is gone. I don’t remember a thing and had to be filled in my now ex fiancé. Apparently I started talking about suicide, verbally abusing her and just being a general fucking idiot. She said I’d gone to bed, got back up, continued to be a dickhead, vomited and she made me go back to bed.
I woke up at 5.30am, still drunk, confused, alone in bed. Somehow managed to lose my clothes? I had texted some drunken gibberish that she had replied to at some point, and I replied when I woke up drunk. In my haze I thought we had a fight and broke up. We started texting and arguing, which had been the norm lately. Thinking we were already broken up I kind of doubled down and started being more of a cunt.
Well she’s been and dropped the ring off, and everything else I had at hers. I lost the love of my life, an absolute gem of a woman that’s stuck by me through 5 years, because I have a drinking problem and I’m a fucking idiot.
That’s it, I’m done. No more alcohol. I’m going sober so this shit never happens again. I threw the remaining bottles away. Can’t believe it, it’s like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.
Watch your drinking people, I never thought I had an issue but I clearly do.
TLDR: Got shitfaced, was a cunt to my fiancé, am now single.

Hey Roleplayers and Reddit users!
I've been wanting to do this for a while now and I am looking for people who want to play a character of the game (male only) to pair with me (female only character of the game) for some fun longterm RP. I have several plots prepared and ideas to share depending on what character you'd want to write/write with and I am happy to discuss more details and possible plots.
Heroes I am willing to write for this RP would be:
My preference is Gency, but I am terribly terribly picky about this and made a lot of horrible experiences. This is something I kind of want done right and if I don't see that happening, I am not willing to write this. If you are equally interested in building their relationship from the longterm point of view, I'd like to discuss.
Other than that I'll gladly play :

• young Ana
• Sombra
• D.va
• Ashe
• Kiriko
• Widow
• Mercy

If you have ideas for this, wishes you want to include I am happy to discuss! That being said though, I am a very detailed writer and like it if my partners are as well, two paragraphs should be the least you should be able to write and maybe even extend it a little further. Third person would also be perfect, I think writing in first person is kind of awkward and I am not comfortable doing that.
One of my ideas as example is as follows: Both our characters are on a mission. The two need to work together to gather information, perhaps rescue a fellow agent. It is tense. The alarm is going off, red lights are filling corridors and guards begin to flood the building. They will have to hurry to complete their goal without being caught.
Another idea could be more about the slice of life part, what is happening behind the scenes, maybe even the mental toll these missions and the huge pressure has on the involved people. They could build a proper relationship, work on conquering their fears as well as work on themselves to become better and greater heroes! Naturally, I am in for all the action as well. Let's go beat up some bad (or good) guys!
I am pretty active but I only RP on discord so please keep that in mind. Also, I want to speak out a content warning for mature content. Please send the word hero to me so I know you've read this all in your first message.
I usually write 3 paragraphs as the least amount and would like for my partner to match me.
The following will be a roleplay sample of mine which depicts a semblance of my literacy:
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Their escape through the ventilation system was not the greatest exit strategic, additionally, it was flawed and their position easily compromised. Amelie had already begun to lead the way towards what she figured was the very edge of the fortress where they'd be able to slither away into the night, but he was certainly not making this any more pleasant with his urgent request to hurry. "I am going as quick as I can, but as you are aware, wet clothes stick to these smooth surfaces perfectly well," and indeed it made it quite difficult to shift along the metal of the shafts. She felt the heat too, though for her the very start was certainly only comforting, drying both their bodies and clothes just a little before they'd soon face the consequences and most likely either burn to charcoal or get some lovely burn marks along their skin. That was what she expected, just until his larger frame pushed and squirmed past her before he could even see the glare she was shooting at him. "What do you think you are doing?" She asked lowly, and watched him repeatedly smack his arrow against the relatively thin wall of the ventilation shaft, that soon bulged and began to give in.
Her attention however was caught by his tattooed arm, which seemed to faintly illuminate the air in bright blue. It was just how the rumors proved. Something about him, about that tattoo he donned on his arm that gave him strength on an unimaginable scale. With great curiosity as she witnessed this did Amelie watch the wall next to them burst open, and him slip outside. No hesitation within her motions she followed, and the both stood shielded from the flames that followed. There was a certain thankfulness within her eyes as she looked upon him, knowing there was no reason for each other to linger. Nodding gently, she bid him a word-less farewell before Amelie too, disappeared into the night.
Months had passed after their run in and the mission report handed to Akande caused him to end up a little displeased over the next few days. He wanted the Shimada to be part of Talon, to have his power under their control and thus, increased the offered amount of money and goods should he ever end up appearing once more. Little did either of them know that the famed spider would soon once more come into the view of the archer.
Brazil, ten in the evening. Music played and echoed through the halls, setting the mood for such a high-class event where drinks were shared, dances were executed and most importantly, deals were made. Amelie attended on behalf of Talon, naturally so as she mostly would serve as informant that very night. As such, her gun was not a piece of her attire tonight.
Amelie stood tall and proud as she always did, and her dress once more proved that she was a confident woman. The black dress vacant of any prints upon it did her body justice. Cutting off high upon her thighs, a slit on the side revealing even more of those long, firm legs, the very front was just as revealing, the V shape cutting a rift between her plump breasts, fitting for a beautiful woman like her while the back was cut deep, revealing that signature spider tattoo on her pale skin that was caressed by the tip of her ponytail.
Her hand was firmly wrapped around a glass of red wine she sipped from while circling the area a little, searching for anyone worth being noted and not quite aware that a familiar archer was in the very same room. She stood with her back towards his direction at first, before she desired to move once more and caught the sight of the archer out of the corner of her eyes. He might have seen her smirk slyly, before she turned away again. Amelie knew when she was the huntress, but she did not approach her prey this time. No, he would need to hunger for a taste of her, and that'd let him approach her while she remained still.
Naturally, her thoughts had wandered to him before, thought back on his warmth he soared her in that locker, and at times she humored the thought of a misses romance, even if she was aware it was foolish and nothing alike her. No, she was the heartless woman that murdered her own husband years back, cold to the touch and emotionless. The perfect weapon that once had a loving heart.
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