He is risen happy easter images

I was seeing my boyfriend for nine months. We met at work. We had a perfect relationship until a girl who he’s been just sleeping with for seven years exposed him to me and my entire family. He told me she stole his labtop and that’s why she’s knows so much information. That she stalked him and pressured him into admitting he was cheating. That he’s scared of her. I chose to stay with him.
The other day she messaged his friends saying I’m a doormat and if you’re a doormat you deserve to be walked on and said she’ll have a threeway with him as a revenge kink.
Today she messaged this to all his friends:
Imagine you’re a librarian. You have very low self esteem. People can tell you’re naive by just looking at your face. No one really paid much attention to you before in life. You’re 24 and never had a boyfriend before, you don’t get much male attention. You finally get a boyfriend (yay!!!). Your boyfriend is with you because he sees you as easy to manipulate. He can cheat on you all the time and make you taste other girls pussies and you feel that’s the best you can get. While you sit at home with grandmas sex swing, he’s with other chicks. Even when there are piles and mounds of proof of him cheating, you want to prove his innocence 🙄. He’s on tinder looking to find more girls to cheat on you with after he was exposed and admitted it. You’re the victim not him. NO ONE deserves what he is doing to you.
Imagine you’re an idiot. You are seeing a girl for seven years. You know her personality. She knows your personality. All you have to do to not fuck this up is be honest and say you’re seeing someone else when she asks. You decide to lie. You know this girl is not weak. You decide to date a librarian (woo hoo!!). She’s meek. She would never blow up your spot because she’s easy to manipulate and happy to have any type of man. My little pony vibes. You like the power and control it gives you, although it’s easy to make people obsessed if you don’t have standards but who wants ugly kids? You decide to put the other girl in a position where she can blow your shit up. You risk it anyways because she gives great head. You know the head game is good when you risk your job, relationship, and long term friends just go get head from this girl. Your girlfriend somehow doesn’t believe she got cheated on when you admitted it, her family met your side piece and you are buried with evidence. Hope the relationship with the librarian was worth it.
Should i be scared of her? Am I at risk of him cheating again?

So happy to have found this community, would love to share and hear thoughts/stories.
I met my MM ten years ago at a work event. We were casual friends, and then reconnected once he moved to my city a year ago. We're both nerdy in similar ways. I love the way his mind works - the questions he asks, the way he stimulates me to think about things, the steady way he expresses affection. He says he loves my brain as well. He's also HOTT (at least, to me). I felt off the charts attracted to him. (I've felt that level of attraction before, but not often)
Prior to meeting him, I'd never been in a romantic relationship of any duration, and never had sex with anyone (although I'd done a lot of other things with other men I'd dated). I'm 35, so being a virgin is REALLY atypical, and I spent a lot of time feeling like I was totally unlovable. I carried a lot of scars and insecurities. I felt like I'd never really know or experience love, and the thought made me feel broken and depressed. He wanted more sexuality in his life, and had wanted that for several years (ever since their first and only child was born). We clicked immediately, and started talking. It grew into us being open and honest with each other about all the things we wanted to experience. He listened to me and my anxieties about sex, he accepted me, we chatted for hours on end. It was a connection that brought a lot of comfort to both of us.
He said he'd long wanted an open relationship (he doesn't want to leave his wife, whom he loves!) but he doesn't know how to talk to her about it. I recommended "The Ethical Slut" and he read it cover to cover.
I held out for a long time, but we finally became intimate about eight months into being friends. I realized that holding back was making me MORE unhappy and reinforcing my depressive patterns. There was NO coercion on his side whatsoever. There was a LOT of emotional intimacy between us, and I can honestly say that my first time having sex was probably one of the most amazing things I'd ever experienced. No pain, and even an orgasm. Yay! Entirely bc of how much we communicated, and how accepted I felt to ask him for whatever felt good to me. Throughout this time, I'd also been seeing other people - which he knows about and they know about - and although I don't quite connect to them the way I connect to him, it's been great to explore my kinky, poly and adventurous side, and feel connected to this side of myself that I neglected for so long.
MM and I have now had sex a couple more times, and I absolutely love it. Being with him has challenged me (helped me understand and work through my anxieties), helped me feel less broken, and helped me understand and connect with myself as a sexual being. I am so grateful and appreciative to have had this experience with someone I care about, and I value his support and care. He's also come to several parties/etc with me, and many of my friends have met him and like him.
I'd love for us to be together more authentically, and continue to enjoy this intellectual and sexual companionship. I don't want him to leave his wife (I'm not ready for that, and I don't think he is either).
But in order for us to be together - for ex, we talked the other day about going away to NY for a weekend, which would be so fun - I just don't see how these things can happen in a context where he's lying to his wife about what he wants (and the fact that he's able to go on dates with her while keeping this devastating secret is frankly not attractive). This is his first affair, but before he met me, he did kiss another woman at a conference a couple years ago. This is my first and only affair, although I did have feelings for a married coworker many years ago. With my strong encouragement, he spoke to his wife a while back about his sexual frustrations, and he said that those conversations made him a better person and partner.
There's a lot of talk on this thread about going "legit". I want to talk to him again about the open relationship. Part of me realizes it's a bit naive - we've already slept together, there's no way to turn this situation into one where we haven't betrayed his wife. I also know that real and honest poly takes negotiation and consent by both partners, and often months of work and discussion and therapy. I guess I'm wondering if my story resonates for others -- and if you've ever had luck talking to an AP/MP about opening their relationship? How does one approach this conversation? Am I just lying to myself about possible outcomes here?
And how do you prepare yourself for walking away if he says he's not ready for it (which is the most likely outcome)? I hate ultimatums and I don't want to give him one - the way I see it, we both made the decision to enter into this affair bc we were confused and hurting, and are better today than we were. So where do we go from here?

Six months to the day that I started basic training, I’m currently being bussed to the airport, as I’m a chapter 514, second training injury secondary to low bone density the Army diagnosed me with after my first training injury. This is a temporarily medically disqualifying condition I had to have my commander sign to keep me for in November. I was retained, rehabilitated, & recycled, but hurt another part of my body halfway through cycle. I was told by 2 different providers that I should not have been retained, because my condition made me high risk for back injury for my MOS (68w).
The NG liaison was encouraging, & said he couldn’t fight my case bc of the medical details but that at home I could ask to be retained. He suggested I work on my health, eat well, get on supplements if the doctor approves and train hard. I could pass a density scan realistically in 12-18 months, and get a waiver quickly supposedly if I stayed in the guard and continued to drill. A drill sergeant from my first cycle was also encouraging, and suggested I retain and ask to reclass to a physically light MOS. She pointed out having a second skill set to fall back on if my back gets worse as I get older. I scored a 93 on the asvab, and have other interests, but my passion is medicine.
I’m in my late 20s, no kids/partner, financially stable, am a medic back home, and chose the guard to serve my country/state in potential disaster response & stay close to elderly, childless/widowed family I help look after.
I have family, friends, coworkers happy to have me back soon. And of course, after 6 months of being treated as a trainee, being hurt and bearing bad weather, I’m looking forward to being home. But I’m on this bus, conflicted & defeated. The running joke amongst many of the injured/chaptered trainees is “we should have joined the Air Force/waited for the Air Force recruiter to call me back.” Most injuries were from rucking -both of mine were as well.
I suppose I’m just looking for different input, from guardsmen. Could I even try to retain? Either way, I’m under the impression I drill a couple more months before I’m fully discharged out of the guard.
I understand I have to talk to my RSP within 72 hours of my arrival. I’m reaching out tomorrow when I land in my state.

I'm making 70 usd / hr and I usually invoice around 15-25 hours a work a week so let's say 20 hours which is 1400 usd a week.
I only track the hours I spend coding so that could be anywhere between 0-6 hours a day depending on my work.
I have 2 clients that I'm working with right now at the same rate.
I'm enjoying my life as a "digital nomad" freelance front end web developer (doing next.js work) but I feel like I'm missing out on a lot of income.
At the rate of 70 * 20 * 48 weeks of working (unpaid time off) that's 67,200 usd a year, which is quite low for a senior level dev (I have 8 years of frontend experience react / next js experience)
I like to think I'm working "part time" to enjoy other aspects of my life like traveling and working on other projects but lately I've had all my energy taken from working on client work and can't really find time and energy to work on other stuff. So it feels like I'm at a job without the benefits of a job or the salary. Plus I would get paid vacations rather than guilt trips about taking time off and not getting paid for that.
And as i look around at the other job opportunities for a person with my skills and experience, I'm leaving out potentially 100k a year from income and maybe even working less hard that I am now with a real job.
So I'm wondering what other people's opinions are on my situation.
I'm also not very happy with the working situation with one of my clients, they're a growing b2b software startup and it feels like my responsibilities and expectations with them are like having a real job but with less pay and no employment benefits.
My other client is very chill and I enjoy working with him, it's pretty ideal situation.
So yeah what would you do in my situation? I would maybe propose to my preferred client about my opinion on my situation and hope he offers me something better in return for exclusivity with him? Or do I try to find a full time remote job with like a 100k raise?

This is a long one…Not sure where to start but I (22f) have had a lot of changes in life and I feel like I’ve made all the wrong decisions.
Back in 2019 I met my ex bf who I split with 3 months ago. We had lived together alone with two cats for a while but January last year my now 17yr old sister had to move in with me due to our mother being unstable and her father (they are separated) becoming more abusive to her. It was definitely a change to my lifestyle but it wasn’t too much drama, she just needed a lot of help with her mental health but besides that she is pretty independent. Not long after that, maybe two months, our lease was ending and we decided that we needed a bigger place and didn’t sign a new lease, unfortunately this is when the rental market started getting really bad and we didn’t know so we all ended up having to move in with my ex partners friends place. This was only meant to be temporary but we were almost there a year and over that time it slowly was just not a comfortable space, could tell it was getting really heavy on my ex partners, little sisters and my mental health. There was a few issues with the friend and it was a 25minute drive from most of the things I needed to go to, just slowly clipped away at energy levels. Come around November my other little sister (15) moved in as that same dad started becoming abusive to her now and we also found out he was using crack. This was fine, I was much happier them both with me then with anyone else. However I hate to admit this happening was another weight on me and I was feeling really lost trying to adjust to so many things. Trying to work, trying to deal with my little sisters mental healths, dealing with my own mental health having adhd/bpd/cptsd/autism,looking after them like a parent, dealing with the vibes at the friends house and the guilt of not having enough time for my partner. I didn’t realised at the time but I started to party alot more and drink I guess to escape and I was not doing well mentally. I took this out on my partner as well and neglected his needs and because of stupid fucking TikTok videos I was convinced that I needed to break up with him and live my 20s and that he was bringing my mental health down. So we broke up… unfortunately I wasn’t the one who told him, it was someone else who I confided in who told him. That night it happened I stayed at a friends and the next day my sisters and I started to pack. We are so lucky that my older sister (same dad as me but not same as my younger ones) owns a house and we moved in downstairs. Downstairs use to be a garage, laundry and storage space but has now been half renovated into rooms and has a kitchen and a bathroom. Me and my two sisters all share a big room at the moment and I’m slowly paying for materials to renovate it into more rooms instead of the big one.
Now we’ve got the background of the situation I guess this is kinda where I’m at with how I’m feeling. I thought things would be easier and I would be happier. I don’t have to worry about meeting as many peoples needs, I’m not living so far out, I’m away from that house mate, I have more freedom living here and can express my art more since we can renovate and paint however we want. We now have a duck and a garden bed growing veggies and herbs. But I feel so empty, my days revolve around my sisters, getting up early to make lunch and take them to school (15yr old gets to her school at 8:45 and 17 at 10) then I spend my day cleaning so much shit up, renovating small things (honestly the place doesn’t look the best in a lot of places) trying to work (freelance) constantly shopping for things we are out of or need and then pick them up at 3pm most likely have to drive them places then get started on dinner trying to not cook too late even tho I’m so exhausted. I feel very little joy in life at the moment. My bank is bleeding having two teenage girls living with me only getting $150 a week support at the moment for them. And I’m not upset about paying for them but lately it’s getting even more and more expensive and I haven’t been getting as much work lately so it’s very hard. I’ve been trying to say no to more things lately that aren’t necessities but I also don’t want to make them feel bad for anything. They have a lot of trauma and trying to navigate being a older figure they depend on and not saying anything that could trigger them or make them feel bad…
In the 3 months being split from my partner I’ve realised I do want to be with them as well. Since being out of that toxic house his mental health is doing better, he spends less time napping and hiding in the bedroom, he goes to gym more and has lost 10kg, his eating habits have improved and overall he’s doing a lot better (besides the emotional pain I put him through he’s still pretty hurt) It makes me so happy seeing him like this, it’s what I always wanted for him. We still talked the whole time on and off but a month ago I told him that breaking up was my biggest regret and I thought it’s what I wanted and needed but really I just had so many other things going on and though getting rid of him was the answer.
Since then we have been speaking a lot more and we have hung out out 3/4 times. We are seeing if we can work through things but he is still very unsure and hurt, so for now just continuing to hang out and talk. It seems to be going well.
So now to the title of this post. This isn’t the life I want to be living. I feel like the worst person for saying it but I don’t want to be responsible for my sisters anymore. It’s so hard and I love them but it’s draining everything I have. There is no where else I want them though, I am the safest most secure person in their lives and I’m not going to give up. I thought I could handle it since I’ve always had to look after my sisters (I’m the eldest of 6) growing up but it’s getting too much, especially now I know what life I really wish I was living. Everyday I wake up and do what I have to do but everyday it gets harder and I dread coming home alot.
My dream is to be living alone again with my partner and the two cats I have, I want to work in a shoe shop and have my online art business fully running and just live a calm peaceful life. I wish they were older or any of our parents weren’t so fucked up… feels like a pipe dream and it hurts alot to know this isn’t going to happen or not anytime soon.
I stayed over my ex’s place last night as well and then cried at the beach for 2 hours today over the fact that I have to go home to endless chores and responsibilities and at least once a day hearing “hey can you drive me here” “we are out of this” “can you buy me this” and not be living with my ex. Instead I’m living this life and I just feel so empty and exhausted.

For some background info, my crushes family and my family are good friends so we see each other often and a couple days ago he invited me to go hang out with him and his brother in town. My friend is coming to because she lives with me and involves herself with everything but honestly I'm glad she's coming lol. Our plan is he's gonna come over and were gonna get a ride into town and walk around until his brother gets of work at around 5, then we might go see a movie or do something else. About an hour ago and snapped him asking if I could have a hug when we see each other and he said yes, this isn't gonna be the first time we've hugged or anything but I'm excited. I also went on a walk with my brother and my friend and hetoldd me to stay safe and stay off the road, this made me really happy for some reason lol

How is it that you can miss someone, be so angry with and still care about the person who hurt you the worst? My ex ended our 2 1/2 relationship because my mental health was at an all time low and as I was looking to get help he ended things. I know I should’ve gotten help much sooner especially because our problems were from my mental health (I was diagnosed with Bipolar II and BPD) but he told me he wanted to be alone and after a week I got a therapist and a psychiatrist so I am on the right path now. I met with him to see if now that I am in active recovery if he would wait for me to get better or in a month we’d see where we’re at. He told me no and that he had to do what was best for him because he was no longer happy. I picked up the rest of my stuff from our studio today and saw how dirty it was and knew he must be having a hard time too. I can’t help but worry about his mental state even though he didn’t care about mine when he left me on the floor crying. I also know that even though it’s hard for him now he will bounce back much quicker than me and move on.

​
Griger Kel-Am watched from his cell in the old town jailhouse as workers busily erected a scaffolding in the courtyard below. It was shaping up nicely, he thought with an appreciative nod; the skeletal beams reminded him of the bones of dead animals in the Karel Desert and that comparison almost disturbed him.
Which was no easy feat. Griger had seen the worst the world had to offer. He fought beasts in the Staygin Mountains, fended off feral bandits in the Jarel Plains, and weathered more attacks, fights, battles, and death than most people even knew existed. Nothing on earth could rattle him. He couldn’t afford to let himself be shaken. Life, he had learned, was like a surging storm tide. You either stand strong against it, or you get knocked down and swept away. Griger refused to be swept away. He refused to wind up like the old bones he stumbled across on the North Road and in the snowy stepps at the top of the world. A man must be hard and stoic to survive, and he must be harder and colder to thrive.
Despite his grizzled face, many scars, dead eyes, and unseemly facial hair, Griger, a sword for hire since before the Great Plague, had always thrived.
Sighing, Griger left the window and walked over to the door; three brisk paces. He threaded his arms through the bars and tried his best to look up the corridor. In the cells across from him, other men, their faces dirty and white, cowered, waiting for their judgement.
Their open fear disgusted Griger.
Cowards.
Griger wasn’t afraid to die. Dying was easy; you closed your eyes and went to sleep. Living...living was hard, every day a knock down, drag out fight for dominance against something. Outlaws, nature, your own inner darkness. He did not seek death, but he welcomed it. The prospect of a noose tightening around his neck, of his body jerking and dancing before many jeering eyes and spitting mouths, however, almost bothered him.
But as a wise old man he once knew had said, This too shall pass.
A sardonic smile touched Griger’s chapped lips and he shook his head like a man who couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Of all the things he’d done in his life to deserve a hanging, self-defense is what did him in. Ha.
Two weeks ago, he was following the river from the North, on foot and alone save for his sword and his rucksack. He stopped at a tide pool to drink, and was beset by a man with a knife. In his frock coat and rubberized boots, he was too well dressed to be a highwayman; he never spoke a word until he lay in the grass, his throat laid open and gushing rich red blood. “Scoundrel,” he gurgled.
Griger relieved him of his boots and pocketbook and carried on. Before dusk, he came across the village and rented a room at the inn. Women in cheap, homespun dresses haunted the halls, knocking at doors to sell their company, and Griger, lying in bed by the flickering light of a lamp, was considering spending the rest of the money on one when three constables broke down the door.
The man he killed, they told him later, was the son of the mayor. At that moment, Griger knew he was in trouble.
They refused to believe that the son attacked first and pointed to the things Griger had taken from his as proof of overland piracy, theft, and murder. He was tried in a packed courtroom and found guilty, standing tall and proud but alone as no lawyer in the land would take his case.
Out in the courtyard, someone shouted, and a team of horses neighed, Griger, sitting on the edge of his cot, looked up at the window. The light was getting weaker as night approached. Shadows, long and black, fell through the slats and made unwholesome shapes across the earthen floor. Down the hall, a man cried out for water, and elsewhere, someone raked a metal cup back and forth across the bars. Would they hang him tonight, Griger wondered, or would they wait for dawn?
“You,” someone spat.
Griger looked up to find the mayor standing at the bars, his bloated face filled with hatred. Another man was with him, this one taller and thinner. They were both clad in the finest garments, but the stranger was undoubtedly better suited. Griger took him for a government official.
“What do you want?” Griger asked, an edge in his voice.
The mayor opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger silenced him. “My name is Urick Farbin. I’m the governor of Ezk Province and I have a proposition for you.”
“What’s that?”
Farbin flashed a tight smile.
It looked to Griger like he wouldn’t be hanged at all.
And that made him smile.
***
Griger watched the countryside pass slowly by, all green hills, trickling brooks, and dense thickets. The occasional straw hut loomed out of the wilderness like an antsy thief, and six miles out of the village, they passed a stately manor house that could only have belonged to the mayor.
It was mid-afternoon and the overcast day wrapped itself around Griger like a wet blanket. The previous night, Governor Farbin sprang Griger from his cell and brought him to the inn, where he was kept under armed guard. Griger spent most of the evening in a straight back chair and whittling. You don’t have to worry, he said to the sentry standing at the door, I’m not going anywhere.
And he wasn’t. He was not an honor bound man by any stretch, but Farbin saved his life, and Griger reckoned that earned him a little loyalty.
The guards didn’t stand down, but Griger didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have either.
In the morning, they set off in a horse drawn carriage, heading northwest along the Western Road. Now, hours later, Griger sat next to the Governor, who wore a dark cloak and wide-brimmed hat befitting his office. Beside him, the driver held the reins and stared ahead with the practiced indifference of a man used to tuning out things he wasn’t supposed to hear.
“Will you explain to me what I’m doing?” Griger asked.
Farbin was quiet for a moment, then he looked up at the sky, the muted light bathing his craggy features. “Your file says that you’ve done work for the Government.”
“Some,” Griger replied.
“You’ve handled things of a singular nature,” the old man continued. “Things that most other men have never dreamed possible.”
Gringer nodded. He had. His only oath was to himself, and he worked for whoever paid him the highest sum. Men like him were called mercenaries but he preferred to think of himself as a businessman.
“There’s a matter in a nearby village that has been ongoing for quite some time,” Farbin said, picking his words carefully. “I have sent my best agents and they’ve done nothing for it. When the paperwork on you came to my office, I checked your name, as I do all condemned men, and knew at once that you were the man for this job.”
Griger was almost touched. “What’s the job?”
The Governor turned to face Griger, his expression bloodless and sober, as though he had something great yet terrible to impart upon him. “Do you believe in werewolves?”
“Yes,” he said, “I do.”
“Have you ever killed one?”
Griger hesitated. “No,” he said, “not personally, but I was with a party that did.”
Five years before, Griger wintered in a village among the steep foothills guarding the forbidding expanse of Mount Grez. In the deepest, darkest days of the freeze, local livestock began to die, ripped asunder and strewn across snowy fields like trash. Wolf tracks larger than any Griger had ever seen led to and from each scene, and at night, high, ghostly howls rose above the shrieking wind, curdling the blood of even the most sturdy men.
After a watchman on patrol was attacked and gutted in the main square, the men of the village banded together and tracked the beast, eventually cornering it in a cave near a frozen river. Even if he lived to be a thousand, Griger would never forget the monster they encountered. Seven feet tall, coated in matted gray fur, its face canine yet human, its eyes blazed with the fires of hell, and as the men approached, it snapped and snarled, the sounds it made so close to words that even now, Griger wondered if it were trying to speak. They beset it with swords and torches, and when the dust settled, five men were dead and three were wounded. The wolf lay crumpled on the ground, decapitated and aflame. Even with no head, even with its heart divorced from its body, it screeched as the fire consumed it, a high, hitching wail that haunted Griger’s dreams for many moons after.
Farbin nodded. “I figured as much. A man as well-travelled as you has to have seen such things.”
He went on to explain that a suspected werewolf was loose in the countryside around the village of Koreth, a tiny fishing port on the sloped and muddy banks of the Rey River. Three weeks before, sheep and horses began to turn up dead, their bodies laid open and their intestines pulled from their stomachs. Before long, travellers along the Western Road started to die in a similar manner. Every time a new victim appeared, officials found large wolf tracks and strands of fur nearby.
Several nights ago, it broke into the home of a land baron and killed him, his wife, and his daughter. His young son survived, but was blinded in one eye.
‘It was a massive beast,’ the boy told the Governor, a personal friend of the baron. ‘It stood seven feet tall, was as wide as it was long, and had the snarling face of a man mixed with a dog.’
“You want me to kill it,” Griger said. It was not a question.
“Yes.”
The carriage jostled as its big wheels splashed through ruts and puddles. “And in return…?”
“You’ll get a full and unconditional pardon.”
Hmm. Griger considered the offer carefully, even though he was in no position to bargain. “Alright,” he said at last, “I’ll do it.”
They arrived at the village three hours later. Perched on the banks of the lazy river, it seemed a single estate rather than a town. A stone wall, roughly a dozen feet high, enclosed it, pitched roofs visible beyond. Two guards in helmets and chainmail, swords on their hips and crossbows in their hands, stood at the gate, their expressions stony and as hardscrabble as the fields sloping away from the walls.
Inside, tiny buildings lined narrow dirt streets and people in plain, homespun clothes went about their business, pushing carts, hawking vegetables, and playing dice. Old men sat in canned chairs before the town pub and a group of boys chased each other back and forth through shadowed warrens, their faces smudged and weatherbeaten beyond their years. Chickens and pigs, both plump and hale, ran free, the former flapping their impotent wings and the latter snorting happily as they wallowed and shat. Griger spotted a blacksmith in his quarters, striking an anvil with a hammer, and wondered idly if he had any interesting items for sale.
“The people here are stubborn and refuse to flee,” Farbin said.
Griger faced forward. “These types usually are.”
“You are not to worry about their safety,” Farbin warned. “They can see to themselves. Your only concern is to be the wolf.”
“Understood.”
The driver parked near the town inn and tied the horse to a hitching post while Griger and Farbin got out. Griger rolled his neck and flexed his shoulders. After so many years of walking wherever he went, he was unaccustomed to sitting for long periods and inevitably ended any long, stationary trek sore.
Past the batwing doors, a shadowy lobby lit by candlelight greeted them. Farbin led Griger directly up the stairs and to a tidy room with a single, neatly made bed and a desk beneath the window. “These are your quarters,” Farbin said.
“Spacious,” Griger said unsarcastically. He sat on the edge of the bed. “What leads do you have on this wolf?”
“None beyond what I’ve told you,” Farbn said. “My men have scoured the countryside but they haven’t found a thing.”
Griger hummed. “No tracks? Droppings? Nothing at all?”
“Not beyond what I’ve told you.”
That was odd. Werewolves rarely strayed far from their den. Unless they were of the rare half-breed that turned upon the cycle of the moon, man at day and beast by night. But those were as common as an honest man in the High Council - not very damned common at all.
“What are you thinking?” Farbin asked.
Griger said what was on his mind.
“But those aren’t real,” the Governor said, a hint of confusion in his voice.
“I tell you they are.”
Farbin’s brow furrowed with incredulity. “A man cannot simply change his form, nor can a wolf, for that matter. It goes against all logic.”
All Griger could do was spread his hands. That a man - even a large one - could transform into a werewolf (and that a werewolf could shrink back to the size of a mere man) did defy logic. Griger could not account for it, but he knew it to be so, and he said as much. Farbin, shaken by the confidence in Griger’s tone, nervously scratched the back of his neck and looked constipated. “Put aside what you think you know and ask yourself. What if it is a wolf-man?”
“But what if it isn’t?” Farbin countered.
Griger ticked his head to the side in acquiescence. “Maybe it’s not. Maybe your men have failed to uncover a den large enough to house a seven foot tall monster. Maybe they’ve been looking up each other’s backsides instead of where they should be.”
A dark shadow flickered across Farbin’s face. “My men are highly trained and highly skilled.”
“That’s why you came to me.”
Farbin fumed. “I came to you because you have experience in such things.”
“Right,” Griger said. “I do. And I’m telling you - in my expert opinion - that if there is no den, the wolf is a changeling. I cannot explain the science behind how and why it is a changeling. I don’t know how it can happen...but it does. You have to consider the possibility that you are looking for a phantom, that your wolf may be out there right this second ploughing a field or herding sheep and not asleep in a cave waiting to be found and made.”
Farbin turned away and put his hands on his hips. No shoulder had ever been colder, and for a second, Griger thought the old man was going to send him back to the gallows. “Alright,” Farbin finally said, “suppose it is a half-breed. What then?”
“I want to see where the latest attack happened.”
A half an hour later, Griger and Farbin stood before a large stone house with a slate roof and wide windows. A dirt drive looped around an ornate fountain and tall trees rustled in the new breeze. Several Provincial Guardsmen accompanied them, all with swords and crossbows and one, the commander, with a rare flintlock on his hip. Farbin led Gringer to the west side of the structure. “The wolf came in through the servants’ entrance,” he explained. A set of paw prints led to the door and Gringer knelt to study them. Roughly half a foot apart, they were slightly larger than any other he had seen.
Inside, the house was dark and cold, shadows clustered in corners like demons waiting for the fall of night to advance their ghoulish aims. Dried blood stained the wooden floors and spackled the bare walls. “Has anyone seen this creature and lived but the boy?”
Farbin shook his head. “No.” His face was white and strained, the somber, funeral atmosphere affecting him.
“You’ve told me everything?”
“Yes.”
Griger nodded to himself. If the wolf were a changeling, someone, somewhere likely would have seen it coming or going. That was a strike against his theory. On the other hand, there were likely dozens of isolated farms and homesteads scattered through the surrounding countryside. The wolf could be anyone from anywhere.
“I want to talk to the locals,” Griger said as he and Farbin walked back to the carriage.
“Right.”
“I’ll also need a team of men at my disposal,” Griger said. “And a sword.”
They were sitting across from each other in the carriage’s enclosed cab. Without, the sky was beginning to cool to purple and evening gloom stealthy crept from the forest. “We’ll get you one.”
“It must be made with silver,” Griger said.
Farbin frowned. “Silver is a poor alloy for sword-making.”
“But it’s the only alloy for werewolf killing,” Griger said. “It shouldn’t be made entirely of silver, but there must be some in it, the more, the better.
Farbin nodded that he understood.
By the time they made it back to the village, full dark had fallen. The streets stood deserted, the animals locked up for the night and most of the people hunkered in their homes. A few guards walked the lanes and dooyards, bows and swords at the ready, and a stray cat with no tail slunk furtively between piles of refuse, its ears laid flat against its skull and its fur matted and crisscrossed with scars from battles past.
The only activity was at the pub attached to the inn, where lights burned in the segmented windows and the chatter of many voices drifted into the street, occasionally flaring in laughter or song. Apparently, those hearty souls refused to let a wolf stand between them and their end-of-day festivities.
Griger’s respect for them increased.
Before entering, Farbin and Griger called on the blacksmith, a burly man with a bald head and a mustache that reminded Griger of walruses he had killed and eaten at the top of the world. Griger explained his need and impressed upon the man a sense of urgency. “I need it as soon as you can possibly have it ready.”
The blacksmith nodded gamely. “I’ll have it by dawn.”
Farbin took out his purse and paid, then they made their way to the inn.
Inside, a roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth and lamps on the walls sent shadows flickering across the floor. A dozen men sat at the bar with stines of beer and a half dozen more occupied the many tables in the middle of the room. A barkeep kept the drinks flowing while a pretty waitress with her blonde hair done up in an elaborate braid like a golden tiara brought trays of beer and pretzels to the tables.
Griger and Farbin sat at an empty table near the fireplace and Farbin removed his gloves. “Men will make merry even while the world burns around them,” he mused.
“Why not,” Griger said, “they can’t do it in the grave.”
The women came over and they ordered a pitcher of beer and a sandwich each. While they waited, Griger went to every man one-by-one and asked them about the wolf. They responded, to a man, with an eye roll or a dismissive laugh. None were worried in the slightest. One man lifted his brow in a pitying sort of way and looked Griger up and down as though he were mad. “Werewolves? Why, those were banished from the Realm centuries ago, it’s all much ado about nothing.”
“It’s a big wolf,” the barkeep said, “and dangerous too, that much is fact. But it’s a lot of hysteria. People today are too goddamn soft. In my time, we had wolves and bears too. If they acted out of line, we hunted them down and cut their heads off.”
The last man Griger came to was a wispy, white-haired oldster with rheumy eyes and three days’ worth of stubble covering his angular chin. Baggy brown clothes, old and wrinkled and caked in the dirt of the field, hung slack from his scrawny frame, and his long, spindly fingers threaded through the handle of his mug like fleshless bone. If Griger had ever seen a man who bore the official title “Town Drunk” he wouldn’t look the part any more than the old man.
Before Griger could ask him a single question, he spoke in a rusty voice that conjured images of graveyard gates in the dark Province of Helem. “I seen it,” he said, “and it weren’t no regular wolf neither.”
The barkeep sniffed. “You see lots of things, Sel. Like them little pink elephants.”
A wave of mean-spirited laughter ran through the bar, and Sel’s jaw clenched. Griger sensed that Sel was often made sport of at the bar.
Ignoring the other, Griger asked, “You’ve seen it?”
Sel nodded and held up three fingers. “Thrice, in fact,” he said with a belch.
“Tell me.”
The old timer looked up at him with a twist of suspicion. “Down by the road leadin’ up,” he said.
“All three times?”
“All three times,” Sel confirmed.
Once a mason, Sel had moved to the village ten years before to try his hand at farming, he explained. His homestead, comprising five acres, a tumbledown barn, and a decomposing shack masquerading as a house, sat below the walls, in a hollow between the hill and the river. Many nights, he sat on the front porch and “communed with the King” (King Rum, Griger assumed). From that perch, he witnessed “The damned beast” loping toward town. “The first time, I seen’t it over in the road,” he said, pronouncing road as rud. “I have good eyesight and I knew right off it weren’t normal, so I jumped outta my chair and ducked down real low so ways he couldn’t see me.”
Sel couldn’t provide a description of the wolf beyond “near eight damn feet tall and built like a mountain” but Griger didn’t need one. The old man’s story supported his supposition that the wolf was coming from somewhere else and not a den in the hills. Why would it come down the middle of the road each time? The only thing to the south was the river and open fields dotted by stands of forest, all of which Farbin’s men had already searched.
Werewolves are nocturnal creatures who sequester themselves somewhere dark and dry during the day. Farbin’s men should have found it by now. That they hadn’t suggested that it was a changeling.
Thanking Sel for his help, Griger went back to the table and sat across from Farbin. “The baron’s house lies in the direction of the river,” he said, more to himself than to the Governor. “What of the other attacks?”
“Mainly in that area,” Farbin said, “why?”
“The changeling - and that’s what it is - comes from across the river. How many homesteads are there beyond the banks?”
“At least two dozen,” Farbin said.
Griger crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “I want your men, tomorrow, out there going door to door with garlic. Make everyone they come across smell it and anyone who sneezes is put under watch.”
The Governor looked stricken. “But...why?”
“Changelings are allergic to garlic,” Griger said.
Farbin pursed his lips in contemplation. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll have them start at first light.”
After dining, they adjourned to their rooms, Farbin on one side of the hall and Griger on the other. A team of six Guardsmen took up position in the empty saloon and kept watch, ready to roll out at a moment’s notice. Griger threw the window open and perched on the ledge, the night breeze washing over him and rustling his graying hair. He rolled a cigarette, lit it with the bedside candle, and looked up at the glowing face of the waxing moon. Tomorrow night it would be full and the changeling would be compelled to turn and hunt as the tide was compelled to crest. It could come tonight still, but unless it was killed, it would return tomorrow for certain, mad with bloodlust.
Well past midnight, Griger blew out the candle and retired. The mattress was far too soft and it took him nearly a half hour of tossing, turning, and muttering curses to himself to find a position he liked. Once he did, he fell into a light sleep from which he was aroused near dawn by a knock at the door. One of the guards informed him that the blacksmith was finished with his sword, and after dressing, he and Farbin went to collect it. Comprising a simple blade with a guard and a grip, it was far from the most opulent weapon Griger had ever wielded, but it was well-suited to his needs and fit comfortably in his hand.
Back at the inn, Farbin gathered every available man under his command, including the constable and his three deputies, and ordered them to sweep the countryside as Griger had suggested the night before. They showed no reaction despite their lord’s strange request, and departed in a single file line.
The saloon opened for breakfast at six and Griger and Farbin each had a plate of eggs, bacon, and beans. People began to drift in as they ate, Sel the Drunkard at the head of the pack. The maiden, who quartered somewhere upstairs, came down in a simple white dress beneath a waist apron, and Griger’s eyes tracked her as she carried out her functions. The dress - loose and high cut - revealed nothing of her bosom, but pulled tight across her bottom when she leaned over to set food and coffee in front of her guests. Their gazes met, and her eyes flicked quickly away like two timid minnows in a fish bowl.
She was beautiful.
She reminded him of someone.
His mind went back to the jagged mountains atop the world, to a little cabin where weary travellers waited out the snowstorms that raged sometimes for weeks in the winter. There, in one of the most isolated outposts of the Realm, lived a woman Griger had known. She was tall and gaunt whereas the barmaid was average and healthy, her hair was black to the maiden’s blonde, but their eyes were the same breathtaking hazel. Now, staring at his plate, his chest stirred in a way that it hadn’t in years.
He didn’t like it.
“...else,” Farbin was saying.
“Yeah,” Griger said, as though he knew what Farbin had said. Now, the woman he loved one winter was on his mind and his mood was verging on foul. He recalled the way her hair brushed the creamy slope of her throat when she turned her head, the sound of her laughter, how her heels dug into his behind, urging him deeper unto her.
He was young, then, and a fool. People, he learned later, come and people go. Loving someone...indeed even hating them...was pointless, for in a breath of summer wind, they’re gone.
After finishing with breakfast, Farbin requested a metal tub be filled with water so that he could bathe. While he did that, Griger threaded his sword through his belt and walked down to the river, keeping his eyes open for wolf tracks. He spotted a few in the dirt edging the road, all pointing in the direction from which he had just come, and squatted down to examine one more closely.
Just before reaching the water, Sel’s farm appeared on the right, the main house seeming to sag in the middle as though under the burden of years and the field out back overgrown and gone to seed. The place looked as though it had died, come back to life, then died again. The screen door, which naturally hung askew, banged open, and Sel himself backed out butt first, a ceramic pot in his hands. He turned, saw Griger, and hesitated, then ducked his head and scurried down the stairs, disappearing around the side of the house Griger lingered a moment, then followed, tangles of grass pulling at his boots. In the back, a clear patch boasted several pots like the one Sel had come out with, each blossoming with an assortment of multicolored flowers. Sel knelt before one and heaped rich soil in with his hands. A gust of wind flipped his lank, white hair back and forth, and a satisfied smile played at the corners of his thin mouth.
“You garden?” Griger asked.
Sel shot him a dirty look. “I do,” he said, a defensive edge in his voice. He stopped, favored the flowers with a sober look, and added, “These plants are the only friends I’ve got.” He chuckled self-consciously.
“Plants seem like they’d make poor friends,” Griger said. “When the first frost comes, they leave you.”
Sel ticked his head to one side in acquiescence. “Tis better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.”
An image of the girl at the top of the world flashed across Griger’s mind, and for a moment he could feel, feel, her presence. “I don’t believe that,” Griger said. “Loss is hard for a man who’s known love.”
“Still better than never knowing it at all,” Sel said and got stiffly to his feet. He dusted his hands on his pants.
“You’ve never lost someone,” Griger said.
“You’ve never loved someone,” Sel countered.
Griger stiffened. Mouthy old bastard, yes I have.
“What do you want?” Sel asked.
“I wanted to ask you about the werewolf.”
Sel’s face crinkled. “I told you everything I know.” He started walking back to the front of the house, and Griger fell in beside him.
“Is there anywhere around here you think a werewolf might live?” Griger asked. “Caves? Dens? Anything.”
“There’s some caves about,” Sel said, “other than that, I can’t say.”
They were on the porch now, Sel holding the door open.
“Can you tell me your story one more time?” Griger asked. “Maybe it might jog something you forgot.”
Sel sighed. “I don’t have nothin’, okay?”
He started to go inside, but Griger stopped him. “Please?”
The old man looked at him, then sighed. “Fine. Come in.”
They sat in Sel’s tiny and cluttered parlor. The furniture was as old and threadbare as the man who owned it, and the simple walls were crowded with old photos, many of them featuring a smiling woman with dark hair. She looked nothing like the girl at the top of the world, but Griger was reminded of her anyway. “Your wife?” he asked.
Sel, seated in an armchair across from him, busied himself pouring Griger a cup of tea. “Yes,” he said shortly.
From his tone - and the woman’s absence - Griger inferred that she was dead. “I’m sorry.”
Sel’s hand shook as he pushed the cup across the table. “So am I,” he said.
“Children?” Griger asked.
“Three,” Sel said. “Two boys and a girl.” Tears crept into the old man’s faded eyes and he fixed his gaze on a point over Griger’s shoulder. Open displays of emotion made Griger uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat, sorry that he had brought the topic up. “We were married thirty years,” Sel said. His lips trembled and Griger thought he was going to break down crying. Instead, he smiled. “Those were good years.”
Griger nodded to himself. “I bet.”
He must not have sounded convincing, because Sel creased his brow. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Ever loved someone?”
“No.”
Sel looked at him with a frank directness that bordered on mind-reading, and though it wasn’t possible, Griger could almost imagine the old man was seeing into his mind...and his heart. “You’re a liar.”
Griger considered his reply for a long time. “When I was a boy,” he said. “I thought I was in love.”
“What happened?”
Perhaps the old man had cast some kind of pall over him...or maybe he was in a rare mood...but Griger heard himself answer honestly. “I left her.”
A heavy silence lay between them.
“You left her?”
Griger nodded. “I moved on. She had her ways and I had mine. I didn’t see us working.”
“You regret it.”
“Yes,” Griger responded instantly. “I wish I tried.”
Sel nodded understandingly. “All boys make mistakes. Some are just luckier than others, I reckon.” He laughed, his posture relaxing, and Griger realized he was starting to like the old bastard.
“True,” he said. “Now your story…”
Sighing, Sel lifted a hand. “I don’t have much ways else to say.” He ran through his story just as he had before, with no additions or subtractions.
Griger nodded that he was satisfied, and got to his feet. “That’ll be all.”
Sel walked him to the door and stuck out his hand. “That damned thing’s a monster,” he said as they shook, “you watch yourself.”
“I can handle a werewolf,” Griger assured him.
Later on, after returning to the inn, Griger and Farbin rode out to meet the men on the other side of the river, catching up to them at a fork in the road. “No one’s sneezed or broken out, sire,” Farbin’s second-in-command, a tall, rodent-faced man, reported.
“Expand the dragnet,” Griger said.
Rat-face looked at Farbin for confirmation, and the Governor nodded.
They would find the wolf...or the wolf would find them.
Griger wanted the former, but would settle for the latter.
If he had to.

Hi everyone, first post on here.
I (18f) recently started dating my boyfriend (20m) a couple months ago. He’s my first relationship, first date, all of that, and I’m just really new to healthy relationships in general. My question is: what’s something that a partner of yours (current or previous) did that made you happy/more than satisfied your needs? Something that’s exceptional beyond the normal standard of relationships, like something they did for you consistently or something unique to the both of you (e.g. I’m trying to buy him flowers every month so he can dry them and preserve them.)

I decided to post this here because I know all of us are similar ages and I’m hoping someone can relate and give advice. I’m 47 yrs old. My mom is 67. She has always been a very emotional person. I grew up in a house where I felt I had to walk on eggshells. My dad’s anger was triggered easily and my mom was always very emotional. It made me a nervous, fearful child. And I didn’t realize it, but I was conditioned to feel like I had to take care of my moms emotions and do whatever I could to make her happy. I carried this unknown responsibility well into my 30s until I was miserable trying to make her happy. She lives 2 hours away and always expected to see us every 2 weeks when our kids were little. They would come to our house often and stay up to a week at a time..never asking how long they could stay. Just assuming. Her expectations of me were so unreasonable. Especially since I had 2 young kids and couldn’t always easily make a 2 hour trip. Whenever she asked for us to come for a holiday, like Easter for example, and I said no, that we were going to go to our home church, she would immediately start crying. She would manipulate me with her tears and guilt me to do what she wanted. She did this to me ALL THE TIME. I gave in for so long until my mental health was in jeopardy and I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to a therapist about it and started putting boundaries in place. It did help, but she still pushes every boundary I set. 2 years ago, I finally told her that I felt a 2 night visit was a good amount for when they come and stay with us. She abided by that one time. And then she has pushed it every time since then. This last visit, they stayed at my house for 6 nights! It always results in me feeling like the bad person if I have to flat out ask them to leave. So I just deal with it. I feel disrespected and just being around her triggers my anxiety.Now that my parents are approaching 70, they are talking about moving to my town. Since she has successfully made me feel suffocated from 2 hours away, I am DREADING the idea of them living so close. I just know that she will expect so much of me And my husband and kids. And we all have busy lives of our own. I feel like her being so close is going to completely ruin my peace. Anybody who has had a similar experience and can share any wisdom I would certainly appreciate it

three weeks ago my gf (she's trans and I'm cis) of two years chose to break up with me after arguing and beefing over dumb stuff and I feel like it was for another reason. I was never the perfect bf but I always treated her the best possible way I could I never insulted her EVER, were respectfully, always told everyone that they should use her name etc to give her the last possible drop of gender euphoria and what not to make her the happiest she could be., I was emotionally 100% with her, I was "homeless" for a day and could possible have gone longer than that because I had beef with my parents over her and I genuinly gave her all of my energy, love and time the last two years. When I met her she was a shy and "locked into herself" person and I helped her open up so much to a point that I didn't get valued at the end in my mind.
she has always been a sort of cold since she has gone through 4 relationships atp and this was my first and she was 3 years older than me. We knew each other for 2 years and we also wanted to meet eachother. we only lived like 3 hours away from each other but then beef occured and the main reason was that I had semi "contact" with a toxic rtard "friend" whom I share a lot of good mutual friends with who insulted her in a game lobby where we played together 2 years ago (he was 17 at the time) I know it isn't right and I called him out on it telling him he is all kinds of insults and a SOB but she expected me to completly cut that friend group off and even dox that guy. this was never a main issue until now where she had played the last four weeks with some other guys only because we had beef and what I think was the case is the fact that after pushing her for 2 years she didn't need my support and "build up" anymore so she had it easy calling me a degen, inhuman and telling me that she hates me before breaking up. I was in a last groupcall with her and those people crying and balling my eyes out wishing her the best at the end only for her to stay cold as shit and not have a single shift in her voice. I ignored the fact that she fell in love with someone else during our relationship and that I took her back but she couldn't do the same for me when I hung with my original friends and that guy was around while doing that too. she vaguely knew that if I were in a gc with my other friends that he would be around but she called me a liar.
I came together with her a month or two after her biggest ex broke up with her so after those two years I feel like she's just been mostly in for the support and affection. anything she did made me happy and she even told me that I was the person in ages to send me a selfie since she hasn't done that in her last relationship (she didn't tell any online ex that she was trans before me) I've got a feeling that even tho the breakup somehow had to happen was a way of her using the chance to bolt since she found someone else now. I shouldn't have come together with her knowing that I'm probably just a rebound thing even tho I still somehow believe that she loved me too genuinly but the way she insulted me and did things throughout the relationship have me wondering how.
I guess she didn't need my love, energy and support anymore and just didn't want to deal with our bs anymore. We always had beef for the dumbest reasons too mostly being things that don't matter really. It was mostly beefs like "wtf you spoiled me about this series unwillingly now I'm going to block you for a week. I still cry looking back at the person she was 2 to 1 year ago and looking at her now. She just turned so toxic but some part in me still misses her. I would've done everything for this girl and she just shattered my soul like that into trillions of pieces. I was writing emails for her therapy doc who was helping with the transition and even offered to call for her and soon she's going to start with actual sessions. I even told her that I will financially support her even tho she made enough money herself. I just hope that one day she will realize that dropping your boyfriend of two years who did everything for you, loved you to the point where he had to cry because he called you "bro" accidentaly and she got sad over it.
I did everything but in the end its never appreciated enough and I guess she will never know what impact I had on her and I hope she will come to that realization. I'm currently in her country on "vacation" to finish this chapter of my first relationship and I had to cry knowing that I wanted to come to this country for her only.
I just want to smoke my head clear from her and forget everything. Seeing her online with her possible new "boyfriend" eats me up and I just need to move on since this is a huge burden on my soul.

I was finally able to get my dad hospitalized, but he is being held in the psych intake holding area with 8 other people before our court date on Wednesday where we will go before a judge and I will petition for involuntary commitment. I am hoping the judge will rule in our favor and see he does need help.
I know not everyone is educated on bipolar disorder, mania or on many mental illnesses in general, but the lack of compassion and empathy or understanding I’ve seen for those who have BO and their loved ones is beyond me.
An officer drove my dad home from the restaurant he was found drinking and bothering customers at after he ran out of our house. My mom and I ran to the gate and blocked them in from entering. We both stood our ground and told the officer that my dad was not allowed in the house and that we wanted EMS to come. He kept telling us that because my dad lives here we couldn’t deny him access to the house. We told him what was going on, and he said, “Really? You’re not going to let him in in this state? He needs to sleep then.” WTF. If we are asking you to bring EMS and you see him in this state why the fuck are you trying to guilt trip us into letting him in. He would have never slept.
My mom and I are crying at this point, refusing to move because we are exhausted from no sleep and scared of his unpredictable behavior. Eventually he does call EMS, and 35 minutes later a fire truck appears and they hop out and ask us what’s going on. We are outside for about 15 minutes trying to explain to them that we don’t feel safe with him in the house and that he needs to be hospitalized because he has not been taking his medication. My mom and I both understand that if he refuses he does not have to go but I know that they can at least try to convince him. One of the firefighters tell us that we are not doing this the right way and that this is not the way to go about it. FUCKING ENLIGHTEN US THEN. They proceeded to tell us that they couldn’t really do anything about it. I really wish they had shown us some compassion. We had not slept and were so emotional and their responses were lacking all empathy. I was begging for a crisis team at this point. 5 minutes later EMS pulls up. One of the medics comes over to get info from us and we tell him that he’s diagnosed with BO and is manic not taking his meds and has been drinking and we didn’t feel safe with him in the house. She goes back over and literally 5 minutes later they convince my dad to get in their van.
I’m telling y’all this saved him from more financial pain and self medicating and death. With my entire being I know what would have happened. I’ve seen my dad in his first episode - full psychosis - EVERYTHING. He was going farther into a dark hole if we didn’t do something now. I’ve seen this played out before I was going to stop it before it got there again.
I understand that in general getting help for someone in mania is so extremely difficult, but having pushback by people who I thought would atleast try felt so heartbreaking. They made us feel so dumb for trying to get him help.
And today…
the nurses told me how happy they were that I came because he kept asking for me and they were getting exhausted and how one nurse couldn’t even handle him for one hour. I just..idk. Don’t tell me that. As his daughter, it does not bring me any comfort to hear that shit.
That’s why I was seeking help. Imagine what his brain is going through.
At one point they’re asking me questions about him and asked how long my parents were together. I said 32 years. One of the nurses responded, “Wow. And you’re telling me your mom didn’t even notice anything before? She should have noticed. You can’t be married that long and not see something coming. People start to notice in their 20s.”
They were so unprofessional.
I just want him to get committed into the psychiatric hospital nearby. I’ve heard great things and I am praying we can move forward as a family.
And I don’t know if it’ll happen.
I do not want to put myself through this again. I love my dad so much I will fight for him to get help, but I feel like I shaved years off my life with what we went through. Somehow we’re going to have to navigate addressing what he needs to do to prevent this from happening again. I am not asking him to be perfect, but I want him to be willing to get help outside of when he is just going through these episodes.
Every aspect of bipolar disorder is so fucking hard. I feel for everyone involved. It’s so tiring. I don’t blame anyone, I am just deeply sad it exists.
Those who have it. Those who love someone who has it. Those helping someone who has it.
——
I know this post was everywhere but this is my only outlet outside of my mom. It’s m lonely out here.

I was bullied in school from the literal first day of kindergarten all the way to the end of High School. Things did get slightly better for me around my senior year but elementary school and Junior High were the worst thanks to 2 bullies.
For years I have tried to find the two main bullies online, hoping to find some word that they were in prison. In my mind I have over the course of over 45 years imagined very violent ends to their lives, wishing it would be at my own hands.
These two individuals ruined my life, I feel like I can never truly know happiness. I have been clinically depressed most of my life, thoughts of suicide crossed my mind daily for decades.
Two days ago I was watching the show Wayne on Amazon Prime. The justice that the main character doled out was exquisite. I once again tried to find one of my bullies online hoping for proof he got the shitty life he deserved.
Much to my surprise I found him, or should I say found his obituary. All it said is he died quickly, I hope it was very painful. There was no word of a cemetery so I think he was cremated which means I can't go an piss on his grave like I always wanted to do.
I suspect he died from COVID, being a mask denier and anti vaccine would certainly have been on brand for him. My stomach did a little flip reading that he was married and had some kids who talked about how he was known for having so much heart. I knew the real guy and the only heart he had was black as coal.
I really thought about contacting his children to tell them what a horrible person he was, but decided I won the final battle just by surviving longer than him and will leave it be.
Success of finding him got me looking for the other bully and surprisingly I found him online too after finding his older brother had died. This time there is evidence based on there being aliases that he likely has spent time in prison.
Bullying ruined my life, I am permanently damaged goods thanks to my experiences. But let me just say that when my heart finally slowed down, I slept soundly knowing there was one less of my tormemtors alive.

Lived in current house for 6 years. Since moving in my ex husband and I have divorced and he moved out 3 years ago. In the 6 years of living here, no maintenance has been done on the house by the LL. No checks, no annual boiler service etc. nothing. The LL has had 6 valuations during my tenancy and is aware of damp/mould but has done nothing. Sockets have blown due to moisture behind them, he’s been advised on electrical safety checks but done nothing. I have had no heating since December as the boiler has packed in. I reported the LL to environmental health as I am getting nowhere with the boiler etc. They inspected the property and issued an improvement notice with category 1 and 2 hazards. However, I have withheld rent. Which, I know I shouldn’t have. I’m happy to pay what I owe I was angry that the LL is happy to let me and my children live in a house with no heating, along with the fact I was/am struggling financially. So, now the LL is saying my ex is also liable for the rent arrears as ex is still on the tenancy. But-the LL knew ex moved out 3 years ago and didn’t update the tenancy agreement. So, can the LL still chase ex for arrears? Also, I’ve had a printed out letter posted through to say my rent will increase in 3 months time. Can the LL do this while there’s a notice of improvement? LL has also stated that he will startcharging interest on rent arrears, although I’m happy to pay what I owe, like many I’m seriously struggling financially at the moment (LL is aware). Anything I can do at all to help the situation? I am trying to move out but I don’t have the funds to move and the council can’t help much as I don’t have a section 21.

As I write this Reddit post, with a phone in my hands and tears streaming down my face, it feels debilitating waiting for my husband to come home. We’ve been married for 3 years now, after it was 4 years since he lost the late wife. He’s on a work trip and he’s going to be coming tomorrow morning
I never thought that my own husband's deceased wife would be the source of such bitterness, resentment, hurt, and anger in me. My retroactive jealousy has been heightened since we moved in together, and I discovered the urn containing her ashes. It's like she's a constant presence in our home, claiming a piece of my husband's heart that I should rightfully have.
I suffer from bipolar disorder, and this situation has intensified my feelings of jealousy to the point where I can't stand the idea of her memory or her taking a piece of my husband's heart. I just want to be his soulmate, not the late wife. It's like I'm constantly competing with a ghost, and I'm losing.
My husband talking about their life together only makes me feel worse. Every time he mentions her, I can't help but feel like I'm second best to a woman who's not even here anymore. It's not that I don't understand how much he loved her, it's just that I want him to love me more.
I asked my husband to get rid of the ashes, but he didn't listen to me. He says that keeping the ashes is a way to honor her memory, and it makes him feel closer to her. But for me, it's disrespectful to keep such a profound reminder of a past partner when we are supposed to be building a life together. I needed to reclaim my husband back, and I felt like I had to take drastic measures.
In a moment of jealous rage, I flushed down the ashes. It felt almost evilly amazing, like I finally won the competition with a dead woman for my husband's love and attention. I felt relief that finally, the house we live in reflects the love and memories we share, not the life he had with his late wife.
In that moment, as I watched the ashes being flushed away, it felt almost evilly amazing. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction that I had finally reclaimed my husband back completely. For once, the house we lived in felt like our own, not a shrine to his late wife. The relief I felt was immense, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
But I know my husband would be devastated, and I don't know what to do. I feel guilty for potentially hurting him, but at the same time, I'm relieved that I won't have to compete with a ghost anymore. I love my husband, but I can't keep feeling like I'm a consolation prize. I need to figure out a way to move past this jealousy and find a way to honor his late wife's memory without it hurting our relationship.
Looking back, I can't shake off the feeling of guilt that's consuming me. I feel terrible for what I did, and I know that there's no way to undo my actions. I'm haunted by the image of the ashes being flushed down the toilet, and the thought of what I've done to someone's remains is overwhelming. I can't even imagine the pain and hurt that my husband and his family must be feeling right now. I know that I've caused irreparable harm, and that realization is eating me up inside.
Does widowers who remarried have any advice or experience with this kind of situation? I don't want to lose my husband, but I also don't want to live in the shadow of his past.
TLDR: bipolar disorder made me flush down late wife’s ashes in a moment of jealousy and rage. I don’t know what to do

my dog shadow just passed away 5 mins ago, he had cancer and a blood clot bursted causing him to have a stroke. i dont know what to do he was my best friend and now hes gone i love him so much💔 he passed at the age of 13 he had the best life ever i hope hes happy where he is now i love u shadow rest in peace forever 😔

I F(17) have been dating my boyfriend for seven months M(19). Everything was going very well. At this point, I’ve given him so much of me, we lost our vcards to eachother the whole nine yards. I thought we were closer. So.. it was on New Year’s Eve and I had told him how I was starting to feel very comfortable with him and how in love i am. How I felt I could trust him blindly and come to him for anything. Well, i brought up a conversation and we laughed, and the tone/mood was nice, I was laying on him in the backseat of his car watching the clock. And I told him about how I’ve never spent new years in a relationship and how this was around the time me and my ex would start our toxic cycle again. And I was happy that I’m finally happy. Then our chat went somewhat like this: “You know my ex texted me a little while ago.” “Wdym?” “Yeah in like November. she was talking about some stuff that she said in class and she thinks I told other people when it was really my other friend who was there too. She was mad. She was telling me to get over her blah blah blah. I only texted her back bc her ex whos in my friend group asked me to make her madder. But I blocked her after and I took care of it.” “Dang.. and so you didn’t wanna tell me? Not even during the texts? ..nothing?” I was mortified. I just told him how I loved him and how I felt like he was truly my best friend. I left a couple minutes after 12 new years. Now, I read the texts later that day.. and she was so mean.. she was like “MOVE TF ON. UR PATHETIC. KEEP MY NAME OUT OF UR MOUTH.” Just really jabbing at the fact he’s still stuck on her. He never brought me up in the chat. He asked for a small phone he lent her. Everything but never said he had a new gf. He didn’t even tell me he texted her. I felt betrayed. He said it slipped his mind. I thought, damn. How do you forget? Still, I don’t trust him like I did before that night. I felt my heart rip out of my chest and my throat felt heavy. There’s smaller things after this, like forgetting that I was upset about this. Never posting me but plastered his ex everywhere. Reposting things on TikTok insinuating that he misses his ex. Occasionally will have her name in a typo.. sometimes he’d softly compare me to her like, “I never call u because my ex wasn’t allowed to call often.” I wouldn’t say I have no reason to be upset or bothered, but am I being insecure? I’ve spoken to him about this before, and all he says is I’m sorry how do I fix this? And then I barley see a change, really. My heart aches at the thought of us not being together. Please help

In John’s gospel the Lord says: By this love you have for one another, everyone will know you are my disciples. In a letter by John we read: My dear people, let us love one another since love comes from God and everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Anyone who fails to love can never have known God, because God is love.
So the faithful should look into themselves and carefully examine their minds and the impulses of their hearts. If they find some of the fruits of love stored in their hearts then they must not doubt God’s presence within them, but to make themselves more and more able to receive so great a guest they should do more and more works of durable mercy and kindness. After all, if God is love, charity should know no limit, for God himself cannot be confined within limits.
What is the appropriate time for performing works of charity? My beloved children, any time is the right time, but these days of Lent provide a special encouragement. Those who want to be present at the Lord’s Passover in holiness of mind and body should seek above all to win this grace. Charity contains all other virtues and covers a multitude of sins.
As we prepare to celebrate that greatest of all mysteries, by which the blood of Jesus Christ destroyed our sins, let us first of all make ready the sacrificial offerings — that is, our works of mercy. What God in his goodness has already given to us, let us give to those who have sinned against us.
And to the poor also, and to those who are afflicted in various ways, let us show a more open-handed generosity so that God may be thanked through many voices and the needy may be fed as a result of our fasting. No act of devotion on the part of the faithful gives God more pleasure than the support that is lavished on his poor. Where God finds charity with its loving concern, there he recognises the reflection of his own fatherly care.
Do not be put off giving by a lack of resources. A generous spirit is itself great wealth, and there can be no shortage of material for generosity where it is Christ who feeds and Christ who is fed. His hand is present in all this activity: his hand, which multiplies the bread by breaking it and increases it by giving it away.
When you give alms, do not be anxious but full of happiness. The greatest treasure will go to the one who has kept the least for himself. The holy apostle Paul tells us: He who provides seed for the sower will give bread for food, provide you with more seed, and increase the harvest of your goodness, in Christ Jesus our Lord, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.
– Sermon by Pope St. Leo the Great, early church father

We made it. I got my brother through three degrees; he’s a doctor now. I finished my Master’s 6 years ago, and have an incredible job helping other disabled community members like myself. I got 2 promotions in 3 years and make enough money for the both of us. I haven’t needed anyone’s help in keeping us together through all the work we did to get him prepared for the career he wants. He is and always will be protected, even though you and our mother threw that privilege away. We have flown in the face of every statistic you tried to make us. Despite the abuse and neglect, we are healthy, generally content, high functioning adults that actively contribute to society every day. We don’t drink, smoke, or use. I’ve been in therapy for 4 years, and the anxiety and depression you guys left me with is under control.
Now that I know my brother is safe and we have accomplished what we need to for him, I’ve started focusing on myself and lost almost 40 pounds so far. You never saw past my long, blonde curly hair and the things in me you could show off to others. I told you I’m not my hair, and when you didn’t listen, I cut it all off and dyed it black. I’m sure you remember; you were furious. How dare I tarnish the trophy you paraded around when it got you somewhere with others. What an incredibly exhilarating feeling that was, as the scissors cut through that ponytail. I finally stopped coloring my hair after 14 years. I can finally go out without makeup. My nails don’t match my outfit and makeup every day. Last time I looked you up, I saw your hair is thinning. Vanity is a wretched bitch.
I wish you knew what you’ve done to us. I wish you could feel the scars in all their forms. But most of all I wish you knew how strong your daughter is, and everything she’s sacrificed for the happiness and security of her brother. Everything she alone has achieved for herself and for others. How incredible a leader she is. The 20 people I lead and the 1100 citizens I’m responsible for know exactly who I am and what I’m about. My leadership knows my worth. My chosen family love me unconditionally, but even after 15 years away from you I still struggle to acknowledge or accept it. But they know. They know how fiercely I love them; I’ve learned to tell them in case there’s no next time. I have people I love so dearly I’d drop everything and come running. What do you have? It took your son years accept an I love you and say it back. How dare you.
Now that he’s set up to start his career, I’m left not knowing who I am past being his protector and provider and the boss at work. I’m scared I’ll get to 40 and still never have been in a relationship. I am so stunted in some areas. Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions? I doubt you do. Not honestly.
Thanks for doing one thing right. My brother is my best friend, and my motivation to keep going so our little family stays together and grows with spouses, nieces, nephews, and lots of pets. Pets you’ll never kick or hit or throw. Babies and toddlers you’ll never frighten and strike. Spouses you won’t drive away, because our people’s race, creed, religion, appearance, and language will be respected and celebrated. We all will be safe, I will always make sure of it.
I wish you knew how hard it is to despise you. I wish you understood how hard this has been on me as the eldest sibling of the mother who killed herself and the father who had a PFA against him for 3 years after 18 years of abuse came to a head. Somehow after 20 something years and all that mess, it makes me sick that I wish I knew you cared. I wish I didn’t care at all.

(On a throwaway account, and in Wales btw.)
I was experiencing constant water hammer for months so complained to the water utility who came out and said it's because my house is on a shared main with other houses so they can hook my house up to a separate new main for free if I have a private company install a new one from the boundary to inside my house, then recommended one but said I'm free to go with whomever I want.
I opted for their recommendation who came out and said we will have to dig up a hole in the driveway near the boundary and then mole it underground to the house, then fill the hole back in. I said the drive a pretty much a brand new (block paving) one just a year old, so how bad will the damage be. He said well it will never look right again, and I said is it because it's hard to get it level, and he said no it's because we have to chip at the paviers to get them up. And I said well great because I've got about 50 spare from the job, and he said that's great, it should look as good as new then.
He then gave me a quote I was happy with, and we agreed on the price, then he asked how I intended to pay. I said I can pay however, which do you prefer? He smiled and said well cash obviously, and laughed. So I said no problem.
They came out and did their bit, then the water utility came out and installed a new main as promised, then the private company came back to connect it up, and it did fix the water hammer issue. Great.
But the issues started when it came to turning the old main off so I could be detached from it. They said they thought what was the stop valve outside to turn my house off (and those sharing the same one) was the right one, but they've switched it off and it's not stopped the water to the other houses (they knocked their door), so they can't cut through mine as they now don't know where the shared main starts and ends, so they might be stopping supply to another house permanently if they cut it off. I said well shouldn't you have ascertained all of this the first thing you did when turning up? So then I pointed to another nearby stop valve lid and they said no there's no valve in that and it's empty. They then proceeded to go get materials to fill the driveway hole back up, and in the meantime I got down and fished out all the silt from this supposedly empty valve hole and lo and behold there was a stop valve.
I informed them when they came back and they were arguing it's empty. The one filling the driveway hole back up just kept saying I'm telling you there's nothing in there. Then the one who was stood around went and looked and sheepishly said, "No there is actually one in there". Then he attempted to turn it and said it's a broken turnkey. They left with no further communication, leaving a horrid job of redoing the driveway, with the paviers all over the place and not at all level.
So I complained to the foreman who came out to do the quote, and said they argued with me too after I had to do their job of finding another stop valve. He popped around and said right we'll get our mason to sort your driveway perfectly, we'll get the water utility company to come out and fix that broken stop valve you discovered, and it'll all be sorted. But then asked would I be paying anything today because the original quote was for the new installation of the line which they've done, and I said well no because it included being detached from the old one, and my driveway being put right which I was assured would be the case. So they left it at that and went.
The water utility came out and fixed the stop valve, then I informed the private company they could finish the job now, and they said what day will I be available the week later. Week later came, no message, no saying they'd be along soon. Over a month went by and it got to Christmas and I messaged and said I'm away for Christmas in case they were planning on coming then. No reply.
Then they finally broke silence end of January and asked if I was around that day. I said no I'm busy and need more notice than that very day. I said I'm off on leave from work for 2 weeks in just over 2 weeks so that would be the perfect time. My leave came and I messaged him right away reminding him I'm off for 2 weeks, which he read, but didn't respond, and didn't come during that time again.
Then out the blue last week he messaged again asking was I around that day. I said no, and again I need more notice than being messaged on the same day, and that I thought he would pop up during my leave. He replied asking when he should pop up then, and I said well I'm available when needed, just give me a week of notice.
But the plumber came out to do the boiler service and said they'll need to dig a second hole in the drive to cut me off from the old main and they could wreck the drive again and leave two bodged spots on my driveway. He would just tell them to do one, and get someone else as they sound unprofessional and useless.
So then it got me thinking, should I do this? Because I just don't trust this company after messing me around and leaving my driveway looking awful for now 4-5 months, messaging me on the day if I'm available, etc.
I should add there is no written schedule of works, not even in our iMessage history, just simply arranging when they would pop along, and then my complaint about the work their two lads did.
Could they legally take me to small claims court and win? What proof would they have? I'm not trying to sound like a non-payer and a conman. I've got a renovation project on the go and have paid out £1,000's upon £1,000's to good, competent companies who've done great jobs, but this one has irked me and done a terrible job.

Let me just start out by saying I’m not in a good place and need some sort of help. Advice, a listening ear, just rambling time, whatever… I am living my days feeling like I have nobody. I’m married to my husband, have been for a month now. He has two daughters from a previous marriage, E (f6) and A (f3). We have a daughter together (f6m). A few months ago, after a year of fighting for full custody of his daughters, he finally got it after their biological mother told us she wanted nothing to do with them anymore. I was happy and supportive of the fight and was ready to take on whatever was to come. Being a new person in their life and basically taking over the mother role in their lives was going to have challenges and I was ready for it to some extent. Flash forward to today, nothing has gotten better and I feel my marriage is falling apart. I’m a SAHM taking care of the A and baby while husband is at work and E is at school. I used to be the one doing the pick ups and drop offs for everybody, stay in the house all day everyday until then, and repeat. I never had any alone time to myself. Always at least two kids with me and never had a break for just myself. Yes, that comes with the territory of being a wife and mother, but I have PPD, depression, anxiety, etc etc (currently in therapy but just started a few weeks ago) all things built up over the last two decades. Back to the issue, I feel like a nanny, maid, stranger, etc in my own home. I’m constantly cleaning up after everybody, dealing with 2/3 of the meals, doing the disciplining and teaching, so on and so forth. I get disrespected by A and E constantly. Never wanting to listen to me when I’m trying to help them learn or keep them safe, telling me I’m not their mom/parent, saying that I’m a maid, making faces at me, talking back with an attitude, and the list goes on and on. And for the most part, my husband just lets it go. He rarely gets onto them for the things they say and do. I always have to tell him when to clean, so the feeding, whatever. It took me basically threatening to leave for him to even try to get things straight. So at this point, I’m keeping my distance from his daughters and he and I aren’t “husband and wife”, if you will, while he tries to fix things between us. There’s so much more I could say, but I feel this is long enough as it is. I’m currently worried about myself and my daughter and am working on separation for my own sanity until something changes. Am I expecting too much? Am I expecting too little? I don’t know what to do and I feel like I’m spiraling. I just want to do what’s best for my daughter.