This might be dumb but I want to buy elden ring and was wondering if I make a character and then my brother also wants to play will he be able to make a character and play his own story or will we have to share the same save

Link to part 2
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/13qcl3m/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_book_2_finding/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Well, this is going to be a little different.
First thing I want to say is that Kev will be back. I’m not the type to sugar coat things, he’s in a pretty sorry state, but he’s going to pull through. He’s a tough bastard.
In case you haven’t clued in yet, it’s Mike, I might not be as much of a wordsmith as Kev but I think I can keep your interest.
She was about five foot four, pale greasy skin and pitch colored hair that was just about to cross the double line from shiny into gross. Early thirties I’d guess, but with the strange shit Kev and I have gotten ourselves into she could be a million, or put together yesterday for all I know.
She was a “ Shame Monger” which was as esoteric of a job title as it sounds, and the first context me and my little buddy had on our current assignment.
The place we’re in is an old, decrepit arcade, I’m surrounded by shadowy figures sticking to the dark recesses like insects.
Kev is somewhere deep within the place sticking his neck out with God knows what ( I mean, I do as well, but I’ll let Kevin relay shit when he’s up to it.), and I’m making small talk.
“You human? “ I say, she’s not offended but raises an eyebrow.
“Are you? “ She has an edge to her, human or not, she’s seen some shit.
I laugh, running a hand over the branded lines mimicking clown patterns Art left me with after that stay in his gulag.
“Sometimes I forget about the braille.
Yeah, %100 sadly. “ I lean on the counter as I speak.
“Me too, you haven’t been working with the watchers long, have you? “ She sounds concerned, “ I’d suggest finding a new job. They have a bit of a reputation. “
“Long enough. “ I’m wary now, information is a resource I’m not willing to part with easily.
I don’t think she’s wrong, mind you, every day I spend with these wizards by another name, I like them less and less. Being sent with Kev, Jr, and the voices in my head, wandering across the country to find something called “The Fleshsmith”, is the best case scenario in my opinion. Gives me some breathing room.
“How do does one deal in shame? “ I say after a long silence. The glitched beeping of the machines becoming grating.
“Not as spooky as you’d think.
You play airsoft? I’m Tori by the way. “ Tori says, lighting up a small black cigar.
“Never got the bug, but I’ve heard of it, and I’m Mike. “ I reply.
“Well Mike, I play, and it’s a great hobby. Lots of physical activity, lots of equipment to learn about, it’s got something for everyone. For the most part, it’s an exciting activity .
But, think of the factory that makes the plastic ammunition. It’s integral, but it’s cheap, easy to make, monotonous, and far removed from any of the interesting facets of the hobby.
That’s me. I brush up against all kinds of folks, but besides the little wrinkle your friend is dealing with, all of the real spooky shit is well past arm’s length. “ she coughs, the thick, cherry scented smoke hangs in rings, “ It’s a living. “
“Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
I hear ‘ Shame Monger’ and I was thinking torture, and, I don’t know, ghosts maybe? “ I shrug, motioning for one of the cigarellos.
She gives me one, it tastes of rose and a rich, almost syrup like tobacco.
“Sorry to disappoint. No, extraction is pretty painless, uses a kind of blotter paper. And to the best of my knowledge, ghosts aren’t a thing.
As I said, things are safe and boring. “ Tori says, taking a seat on a black waist high stool.
I let her statement hang for a moment.
“So what’s with the big guy trying to blend in, waiting for me to leave the counter? And why did he come with 2 friends and a running engine? “ I say, low but casual.
I can tell she’s annoyed at my insight.
“That’s nothing horror adjacent. Just a good old fashioned shake down, cost of doing business.
He doesn’t know exactly what goes on here, but him and his associates know it’s profitable enough they can squeeze ten grand out of me a month. “ Tori shrugs, putting out her cigar.
“You can’t give someone a discount to rattle their cage? “ I ask, curious.
“Listen to you. “ Tori laughs, “If your butcher asked you to get shot for them, would you jump at the chance? “
I make eye contact, I can’t help but smirk.
“I’ve gotten shot for less. “ My comment gets a sideways look.
“Mike, I’m seeing you, and I’ve got to say, kinda seems like you’re full of shit. “ Her reply is harsh, but I can’t blame her. I’m dressed like salesman, facial scars or no.
I don’t reply. I walk to the grimy, dim, wet floored men’s room.
Someone who chooses my line of work doesn’t get into it because they have great impulse control. And unfortunately, I’m not unique .
Since I’ve got here, I’ve felt scared, small, ineffective. I know you guys have seen Kevin’s point of view on things, and it makes me seem like some kind of wrecking ball, but that is 50 per cent showmanship, 30 per cent planning and 20 per cent not caring if I lose a piece or two.
But this situation, some low rent semi-connected asshole who thinks he’s Don Corleone? It calls to me.
The clothing I wear is designed to be reversable, and with a few adjustments, I’m no longer wearing a cheap looking used car salesman’s suit, but an antique tuxedo with a 1940s design.
The mirror is grimy as hell, I try to clear a spot, but the sad, octogenarian Esque flow from the tap isn’t up to the task.
But it’s clear enough to reflect him, standing behind me. I jump, and my heart starts to pound.
“Not the time for this. “ I say, pacing.
I try to look away, but there he is, in the corner of my vision, each time. I’d close my eyes, but that’s what he wants, he gets closer when I can’t see.
For a half second my vision is taken up by a crystal clear image of his face. That angular, pale visage inhuman by any standard, but haunting in it’s echoes of a past rooted in mortality.
I stumble backward, slamming into the wall. Panting, my eyes locked on his almost-there form.
He’s tall, wicked, and everything about him exudes power. He’s taken to looking like me more and more lately. But a twisted, malignant reflection, what I could be if I let this pulp novel of a corner of reality have it’s way with me.
“Fuck off Demi! “ I say, getting to my feet, “ I’ve got shit to do. “
Still don’t know if he is just another hallucination, or who he says he is, but Demi and myself are on pretty poor terms as of late.
I hear the bodyless old ghoul whispering what I assume are dark threats as I open a small tube of what I like to refer to as ‘Mike’s Mix’.
A combination of preparation H, topical anesthetic, and just a hint of clown white. Laugh if you want, but it stops a hell of a lot of incidental injuries in my line of work.
Demi starts to fade and I see what I can of myself in the dull mirror.
I’m a little too old for the phrase, but I’m sure a lot of you folks out there would refer to the cliché spook I’ve cultivated as “Cringe”.
I don’t disagree.
But, it’s the game I have to play right now. I’m not some invincible cursed killer, but you know what, I can certainly play one on T.V.
(Did I just try to relate to kids, then make a joke from a 40 year old commercial? This is why Kev does the writing.)
I walk out of the bathroom, reeking of fear sweat and tainted water. The foot and a half lucite rod is tucked up my sleeve, I tap the end of it against the wall as I walk.
The guy is six feet, easily, he’s fifty or so, but making up for it with trips to the gym and a few friendly doctors if I don’t miss my guess.
He doesn’t take the bait, just keeps talking to Tori, once he looks to me, I can tell he is asking her who I am, she’s smart, she shrugs after looking over.
I had an entire plan where I would embarrass the man, get him to send some guys, and make things so costly he just gave up on Tori. It’s a classic, but if it ain’t broke and all that.
But plans, like the people that make them, tend to fail at the worst times.
Once I get within striking distance, the guy turns, his speed isn’t supernatural, but a lot more than I was expecting. His punch lands well enough that I don’t remember starting to fall.
The second finishes the job before I can get my bearings.
The darkness creeps in and in it’s peace I realize how stupid it was to go in this half cocked. I was jonesing for a fight I could win so badly, I went in without a plan B.
I need someone to reign me in, back home it was Eli, here, it’s Kev. As the last bits of conscious thought leave me, I feel bad about leaving him alone.
It's the stifling heat that wakes me up, before my vision clears I smell hot, cheap leather, old vomit and years worth of attempts to mask the smell.
I’m soaked in sweat, the air is like a sauna. I’m sitting in the back of a car, I wouldn’t call it a limo, but it’s clearly built for comfort, in optimal circumstances. There’s a tinted glass partition separating me from the front seat, it’s cracked slightly, I try to tell if anyone is there, but have no luck.
“Can’t say this is a new experience. “ I say, to whoever may be listening.
I try kicking out the windows and the partition, they don’t budge a millimeter.
“If you are up for talking things over, I’m game. “ I try to pry the overhead light loose, and that’s when I notice it.
It's a note, in a thick plastic sleeve, wrapped around my forearm and stuck with some kind of adhesive.
The pain is horrible, made all the worse by the constant pouring of sweat literally putting salt into the wound.
Said wound isn’t deep, a few layers of skin down, enough to weep blood, but far away from pouring. But if this kills me, it won’t be exsanguination. Depending on how long, whoever, plans on keeping me in here, I worry about infection, necrosis, pretty much all the members of the Untreated Wound crew.
I take off the suit jacket, and tear it into strips to use as makeshift bandages, I have a feeling I’ll be needing plenty by the time this is over.
My left arm is slow and clumsy as I open the envelope. I hope it’s just shock, or swelling, not nerve damage.
It reads:
Hey, Dracula, or whatever the hell you are.
Fuck yourself, you think we don’t have ways of taking care of your kind?
Have Fun
Niko Ferang
“Well, can’t say the guy isn’t succinct. “ I say, laughing.
If I just went up to the guy with a threat and a pipe, I’d have either won or lost, and that’d be the end of it. But my genius self succeeded in convincing him I was scary enough to toss me… here.
It dawns on me that there is something obvious I haven’t tried.
As I pull the latch on the passenger side door, something inside me tells me to stop.
Visually, I can’t really describe what it looked like opening the door. The brief period before I saw what was beyond was the visual equivalent of trying to catch a greased pig.
I was left with a view, an identical car interior. The other car parked impossibly close, Their doors seeming to blend with their exteriors.
I enter, as a great man once said “Buy the ticket, take the ride. “, and my dumb ass need for assurance, bought me one hell of a ride.
Once I get in, the driver’s side door closes, and I find myself in the same sweltering heat, in the same backseat.
The damp leather sticks to my arms, I start to calculate how much water I’m losing by the minute, and the math scares the hell out of me.
I try going through the door a few more times, but the more I do, the more I realize, it’s the same car.
The fear becomes as oppressive as the wet heat, I’ve researched a hell of a lot of things from the watchers library, but infinite Oldsmobiles didn’t come up.
I’ve been disarmed, but left with my phone, and wallet. I’m kind of impressed they managed to find 99 per cent of the equipment I can hide in a suit, but hey, %1 is better than nothing.
The phone makes a useless bludgeon, I quickly retire the idea, and figure, even neutered as it is ( I find I can get online, but little else.), it’s better doing phone things than broken.
The good news is frighteningly slim.
I’ve got a few feet of polymar tarp, folded in the wallet, useful for a lot of things, but most important in my situation will be trying to get some kind of drinking water.
An emergency credit card knife, barely useful little thing, won’t do me any good in a fight, but might be a useful tool.
Three strike anywhere matches, a small hook and length of fishing line.
My lips are cracked and bleeding, it can’t have been more than an hour or two, but I’m starting to feel heat exhaustion set in.
I think I’ve found something when the knife sinks into the thin leather of the overstuffed backseat, but the shoddy blade encounters some kind of solid matter, and as I pull the knife out, the leather seals itself.
I stay still, trying to conserve energy, trying to formulate some plan.
He sits beside me now, his looming hunched frame bent in the confines of the car. His face is a blur, but I know beneath the shadows he's smirking.
“I’m way too tired for you Demi. “ I say, wiping what feels like a liter of sweat from my forehead.
His repeating, echoing laughter proves me wrong, I shiver, despite the brutal heat.
It can’t have been more than a few degrees, bit It feels like getting splashed with ice water.
The light in the car begins to dim, and with it, the soul crushing temperature of the luxury automobile drops.
I scramble to set up the tarp, I was banking on this, without some kind of temperature drop, the plastic sheet is useless.
Within an hour droplets have began to create a small stream, collecting at the cone shaped tip of the suspended tarp. Lacking anything to put it into, I catch the liquid in my mouth.
It's foul, and likely contaminated, but it’s my only option. If I’m stuck in here a week I can get by without food, brutalized by heat, I won’t make it 2 days without water.
I feel exhausted, wondering exactly how long I’ve been stuck here I check the time on my phone.
It’s almost random progression does nothing to comfort the surreal sense of dread that is enveloping me.
I don’t know when I passed out, but I wake up laying across the reeking leather, being dragged backward.
I feel fingers, dozens of them, clawing, scraping, trying to gain purchase. A crevice begins to open in the deep black leather, and I begin to be dragged into it.
I throw myself forward, landing painfully on the sticky, grime ridden floor of the car.
Fear, and the awkward ergonomics of my situation make turning around a slow, nerve wracking chore. Once I manage to, I regret the decision.
Hands, some small, some large, some seemingly cobbled together from mismatched scraps, slowly pull themselves from the crevice between the seat and back of the back seat.
They prod and crawl like insects, none ever giving way to arm, just a lumpen flow of calloused, wrist like structure, giving each an segmented, centipede like appearance.
I sit up, watching the macabre display, trying to make some kind of sense of it.
I actually scream when there’s a sharp, loud, mechanical ringing beside my head. The type of analogue noise that went out of style long before land lines did.
It doesn’t take me long to find the handle and pull out an ancient car phone, it’s a two part wood paneled brick of a thing, I pick up the receiver, “Hello” I say, a question as much as a greeting.
The voice is male, probably early twenties.
“Don’t worry about them. They can be an issue if you don’t sleep on the floor, but I’ve never seen one drag itself more than half way across the seat. “ He’s calm, but has a survivors hushed impatience.
“Who are you? “ I ask.
“I won’t lie to you man.
I’ve been in here a while, but now that there is someone else, I think I can get out. Call me Pol. “ I catch the hopeful tone in his voice.
“How? “ I say simply, still trying in vain to put more space between me and the hands.
“Not to sound cold, but if I tell you, there is a chance you just take the information and leave me here.
The first step is us meeting, you’ll know the plan by the time that happens.
I don’t lie. “ If nothing else I can say Pol seems smart.
“Fair enough, what can I do? “ I Trail off at the end of my sentence, one of the hands is pointing at me.
“You need to understand a few things about this place.
First, don’t travel at night. Nothing you are going to find is going to be any better than the crawlers.
Second, remember the numbers, 1, 5 and 9. I’m assuming you have a watch, or a cellular phone? If the time ends in one of those, you’re likely to find a new space.
Last, what’s outside of the car, on the driver’s side, pretend it doesn’t exist. “ The instructions are cryptic, but I’m in no place to turn down good advice.
“How do I know I can trust you? “ I ask, knowing the answer.
“Don’t see how I could be anything other than what I say.
Wouldn’t it be pretty obvious if I was trying to lead you astray? “ Pol’s response is reasonable, but a lifetime of being blindsided makes me wary.
“I guess so. What should I be doing now? “ I say, flipping off the hand like thing that continues to point at me.
“Get some sleep. Time, day and night cycles, they mean nothing here, and passing out in a hundred and fifty degree weather is a shitty way to go.
I won’t be able to get through during the day, so listen carefully.
If you time your travel right, you are going to be looking for two main things. The first is going to be a pillow mint, eventually you are going to starve either way, the human body needs more than just sugar, but you should be able to find enough to keep you going till malnutrition kicks in. The second is a soda can, it’s a sip, and it’s turned, but it’s better than trying to lick the droplets from the windows. “ I listen to Pol, hopefully memorizing his instructions.
Daylight brings with it reek and heat, I watch the hands scuttle back to within the recesses of the seats, shuddering a bit as I see wave like, movements in the cushions.
“God damn it. “ I say looking at the display on my knock off phone. About %50, for all I know I’ll be out in 15 minutes, but I’m not banking on it.
I watch the numbers flash by like a stock ticker, waiting to see if Pol is trying to screw me over or not.
I see 1:39 and crack open the passenger side door.
The same sweltering heat, the same basic backseat, but I know, at a glance, things are not quite identical. Part repetition from the day before, part a decade and a half playing private eye, but I can tell Pol was telling the truth.
Lipstick, smeared on the passenger window, an old handprint. It seems like something bad happened here.
The leather of one of the headrests is torn, I purposely avoid looking at the certainly not stuffing inside.
It’s like this place wants to tell a story, I can’t help but try and hear it.
I don’t find any soda, but I do find a single, red and white pillow mint, wrapper mostly in tact, sitting in a sticky patch on the floor.
I try my luck a few more times, using the cell phone as a kind of metronome, and while I do get a lot of repetition, every so often, there is a little change, or quirk.
I’ve collected two pocketfulls of mints, and found myself desperately hoping to stumble upon anything to drink. Another night of distilled sweat, dust, and God knows what doesn’t seem appealing.
I must have been too slow opening the door, I’d done it over two hundred times at this point, and the grey haze of this new variation set off every danger instinct in me.
It felt like I was being watched from every angle, despite the gloom the heat was worse, and seemed to bake a fungal reek into the air itself.
The door handle on the passenger side is mangled, the steel colored plastic twisted into a useless lump.
The leather seems slightly rotten, weather stripping peels, light fixtures are cracked and loose, it feels very, old.
I watch the phone, my eyes instinctively darting around, there are noises from the front seat and I doubt they have my best interests in mind.
I’m trying the mangled door handle but something is broken.
That being, said, with a car this old, the fish hook, with enough persistence could work,
I Peel back some of the stripping around the window, te hook begins it’s slow trek down into the mechanics of the door.
I scratch my wounded arm, it hurts, but that isn’t what concerns me. I feel a small, irregular lump.
I peel back my makeshift bandages, and what I see attempts me make to vomit stomach contents that weren’t there.
Small, brown grey mushrooms, a half dozen, about the size of a grain of rice. I feel a tingling in the wound, and panic sets in.
Opening a door like this requires a steady hand, but between the noises in the front seat, and the literally budding body horror on my arm, my nerves are shot.
I hear the partition begin to lower, and that rotten, fungal reek becomes nearly a physical force. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I hear a noise, like flowing sand.
I feel the hook dig under the proper part of the lock and pull up as I feel something wet soak through my shoe.
The door opens violently, not that I’m upset, I toss myself forward like I’m going for a touchdown, my forehead slams off of the armrest in the newest backseat I find myself in.
Before the passenger side closes I catch a glimpse of the mess that spilled from behind the partition. Rot and flesh, an aborted rotten attempt at life enraged at the universe that spawned it.
I actually feel relief at the blinding sunlight, and shining leather, and find myself relating to the monsterous mass I left behind.
I look at my arm, realizing I didn’t leave all of it behind.
“Oh, fuck me. “ I say, fumbling the credit card knife together.
The mushrooms had doubled in size, the cheap tin knife makes a terrible scalpel, I scream as I err on the side of caution, flaying a half inch around each.
I’m bleeding heavily, half of the makeshift bandages barely keeping the flow at bay.
My vision swims, I feel sick, and I fight the urge to break down into a mentally and physically broken heap.
That’s where I’ll leave everyone. Night is falling, and without a little more help from Pol, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
If this is the last time you hear from me, well I’m sure Kev will have you guys covered for the rest of what I hope is Art’s downfall.
If it isn’t, I’ve got a favor to ask, did you guys notice anything I didn’t? Is there anything that is more obvious from outside this displaced cluster fuck?

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Flowing Entropy	SPECTRE	25$

2016 CACHE

Nightsilver's Resolve	LUNA (1)	10$
Heir of Terror	BANE (1)	10$

2017 CACHE

Sovereign of the Kray Legions	SAND KING	12$
Cunning Corsair	RIKI	10$
Mechalodon Interdictor	GYROCOPTER	10$
Corruption of the Virulent Krait	VENOMANCER	15$
Shadowforce Gale	LUNA	10$
Secrets of the Katekhein	WINTER WYVERN	10$
Abyssal Vortex	ENIGMA	10$
Rumrunner's Carronade	BREWMASTER	SOLD https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561198013926645/
Eternal Testament	DEATH PROPHET	12$
The Dread Prophet	NATURE's PROPHET	10$
Elder Convergence	JAKIRO	5$

2018 CACHE

Dread Ascendance	DOOM	15$
Raiments of the Obsidian Forge	UNDERLORD	10$
Raptures of the Abyssal Kin	QUEEN OF PAIN	8$
Visions of the Lifted Veil	PHANTOM ASSASSIN	25$
Forlorn Descent	UNDYING	10$
Molokau Stalker	VENOMANCER	5$
Morbific Provision	WITCH DOCTOR	10$
Cruelties of the Spiral Bore	MAGNUS	20$ (1 last available)
Loaded Prospects	BREWMASTER	SOLD https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561198013926645/
Ire of Molten Rebirth	PHOENIX	10$
Fires of the Volcanic Guard	EMBER SPIRIT	8$
Stonemarch Sovereign	WRAITH KING	20$
Third Awakening	DRAGON KNIGHT	SOLD OUT
Shimmer of the Anointed	NYX ASSASSIN	10$
Pattern of the Silken Queen	BROODMOTHER	10$
Fate Meridian	INVOKER	15$
Legends of Darkheart Pursuit	NIGHT STALKER	SOLD TO https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561198058366383/

2019 CACHE

Endless Night	ABADDON	10$
Sight of the Kha-Ren Faithful	DROW RANGER	10$
Prized Acquisitions	BATRIDER	10$
Verdant Predator	VENOMANCER	10$
Dapper Disguise	PUDGE	15$
Directive of the Sunbound	CLOCKWERK	10$
Grim Destiny	WRAITH KING	15$
Distinguished Expeditionary	TUSK	10$
Fowl Omen	NECROPHOS	10$
Automaton Antiquity	BROODMOTHER	10$
Fury of the Bloodforge	BLOODSEEKER	10$
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Souls Tyrant	SHADOW FIEND	25$
Tribal Pathways	WARLOCK	10$
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Scorched Amber	DRAGON KNIGHT	10$
Forbidden Medicine	DAZZLE	12$
Echoes of the Everblack	ABADDON	12$
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Appetites of the Lizard King	SLARK	SOLD OUT
Riddle of the Hierophant	ORACLE	10$
Allure of the Faeshade Flower	DARK WILLOW	10$
Poacher's Bane	TIDEHUNTER	10$
The Arts of Mortal Deception	ENIGMA	10$
Defender of Ruin	DISRUPTOR	10$
Glimmer of the Sacred Hunt	DROW RANGER	20$
Priest of the Proudsilver Clan	CHEN	10$
Paean of the Ink Dragon	GRIMSTROKE	10$
Pursuit of the Ember Demons	HUSKAR	10$

2020 CACHE

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The King Of Thieves	KEEPER OF THE LIGHT	10$
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Fury of the Righteous Storm	DISRUPTOR	10$
Beast of the Crimson Ring	BRISTLEBACK	10$
Forsworn Legacy	MARS	SOLD OUT
Mindless Slaughter	PUDGE	10$
Talons of the Endless Storm	CHAOS KNIGHT	10$
Clearcut Cavalier	TIMBERSAW	10$
Lineage of the Stormlords	JUGGERNAUT	25$
Songs of Starfall Glen	ENCHANTRESS	10$
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Spirit of the Sacred Grove	-	-
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Ravenous Abyss	UNDERLORD	20$

I'm having trouble meeting the minimum requirements of 60fps set by the game so I think I would try to tone down the render distance or taking fights is just going to be more painful than I would like for it to be.
I downloaded Elden Ring via fitgirl-repacks(dot)site if that helps, is there any files I can change which lowers the render distance?
Thanks!

I 15(F) have went through this twice now. So I was in bed and had cramps,it hurt like hell ,so I thought I was on my period. I got off my bed to go to the bathroom and felt nauseous ,dizzy,blurry vision,hard to breathe,etc.as i was on the toilet my head was going back and forth and i was knocking things over.I felt like I was going to fall.So i somehow got myself back on my bed, and layed down for a bit.
2nd time this happened:Jun 10th: I was taking a shower and felt nauseous so I tried to hurry up but sometimes I had to just stand there and hold my stomach, I eventually got out and was wobbly, I grabbed my towel and tried to dry off but I was too dizzy, I eventually just sat on the floor and it was hard to breathe and my vision was blurry and my ears were ringing, sat there for a solid minute until I got up and tried to grab my shirt but my phone was in my shirt and it fell on the floor so I tried to grab my phone but got dizzy and hit my head on the wall kinda hard.Eventually I got my shirt and underwear on and left the bathroom swaying, I had to turn off the lights of the bathroom and swayed to my bed stairs, I swayed up then and collapsed on my bed, I laid down for a bit while wearing my wet shower cap and I wasn't able to dry myself off completely.I felt better eventually. I told my dad later and he had me use ear drops from my grandma and gave me a sinus medicine, he also suggested I might feel like that from constantly wearing my headphones to sleep every night.

(Tags: Angel, Tarzan & Jane, Romance, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Iceland)
41/m, I write as many paragraphs/lines as I feel are needed. Dialogue can be a paragraph or less, scene setting can be five or more. It doesn’t matter a lot to me so long as you’re interested and invested in what we do. If you’re not, say something and we’ll change it up.
I’m on UTC-5, or Central Time, US. I work night audits right now, so I’ll have a lot of downtime. Available times are between 5pm to 10:30pm, then 7:30am-10am Sunday-Thursday. If you’re up late, or work nights, I can always post during work.
I’d like to see your posting frequency to be at least once every other day, though if you’re making huge posts where you take your time, a couple a week is fine. Or several a day! I can post at least 3-4 times daily, depending.
I am chill about this. How good your writing is isn’t that important to me, though I’d love a sample. I write as best I can because I love writing. I just ask you speak to me if there’s a concern, rather than just run and block. I can adjust, but I would rather solve a problem than cut someone out of my life.
Here’s the first image I had of the setting:
Iceland. Perspective suspended in the air over the sea, facing the top of a cliff with a jagged fissure in it, just a few hours before sunset.
"The sun is a starburst of tarnished brass, too old to be gold, too soon to be scarlet, suspended just above the edge. The scattered grasses than lean off the ledge are emerald and look warm to the touch, but just slightly. The air holds the breath of winter within it—the sharp points within a velvet pincushion.
The maw of the cleft is dark. Aged fingers of sunlight reach within, feeding the nesting birds the warmth of its final hours. Flits of feathers echo amidst song shared and repeated by rocks and gulls.
Move down, and the schism narrows, too tight for sunny fingers to squeeze through. Bird calls can still be heard, but now also the ocean that breaks against the rock. The curve and tooth of moss and stone twist the crash into new sounds, hollow and whispering of what else the dark hides.
The cliff itself grows in your periphery; the color of coffee met with cream. It is faceted like the edge of some primitive blade, so that it does not crumble to sand when struck, but cleaves into knives and needles. The surface is a sea of waves in desert hues, each crest a razor to the palm.
Down further now, nearing the tide that grows louder, the gap of black only as wide as your arms outstretched. There are no birds now, but if your eyes adjust, bundles of bats can just be seen, shuddering and stretching as they rouse to fly with the evening stars.
Down, and down, narrower and narrower, louder and louder, until a short tunnel forms, large enough for four men to stand abreast, with four more on their shoulders.
At the end of this short journey, within the cacophony of a hundred waves breaking a hundred shores, there is the very top another tunnel, which would surely be revealed at lowest tide.
A shimmer of golden torchlight dances there like a hearth fire, brighter and warmer than the remains of the sun.”
Can you see it?
Wonderful.
My character has no name, but is called “Aesir” after Norse tradition. He is a man that is not a man, with silver eyes, hair long and black and wild, fair skin and dark furs that cover it. Wings blacker than his hair appear as needed, ethereal, each feather that of a peacock, yet where fake eyes would be, real eyes watch, prismatic and shining in judgement of good or evil.
He does not know how to speak, but can share feelings and visions to convey his intent, in a way he has done with few others.
His purpose is to protect the locals from evil airs and spirits. The people rarely catch sight of him, but are grateful for his work; they place charms to invite his protection: of a pair of raven feathers with two rainbow eyes painted on the wide ends, strung together to the striker of a silver bell, that when the wind blows, the chime rings out to him.
Possible stories we could write together:
A woman—your creation—crashes her ship at the cleft in the rock, needing rescue or saving herself, suddenly standing before him in his cave.
A resident of a local village seeks him out, in search of his help or in gratitude. Perhaps she is declared evil unjustly, perhaps she simply needs to meet him herself.
An arranged companion, selected from the community, to help him in his work protecting the local villages.
In all cases, he will show himself to you, because you are different, in a way you define.
If you would like to make the one that meets my angel, let me know.
Thank you for your time.
-lex

(Tags: Angel, Tarzan & Jane, Romance, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Iceland)
41/m, I write as many paragraphs/lines as I feel are needed. Dialogue can be a paragraph or less, scene setting can be five or more. It doesn’t matter a lot to me so long as you’re interested and invested in what we do. If you’re not, say something and we’ll change it up.
I’m on UTC-5, or Central Time, US. I work night audits right now, so I’ll have a lot of downtime. Available times are between 5pm to 10:30pm, then 7:30am-10am Sunday-Thursday. If you’re up late, or work nights, I can always post during work.
I’d like to see your posting frequency to be at least once every other day, though if you’re making huge posts where you take your time, a couple a week is fine. Or several a day! I can post at least 3-4 times daily, depending.
I am chill about this. How good your writing is isn’t that important to me, though I’d love a sample. I write as best I can because I love writing. I just ask you speak to me if there’s a concern, rather than just run and block. I can adjust, but I would rather solve a problem than cut someone out of my life.
Here’s the first image I had of the setting:
Iceland. Perspective suspended in the air over the sea, facing the top of a cliff with a jagged fissure in it, just a few hours before sunset.
"The sun is a starburst of tarnished brass, too old to be gold, too soon to be scarlet, suspended just above the edge. The scattered grasses than lean off the ledge are emerald and look warm to the touch, but just slightly. The air holds the breath of winter within it—the sharp points within a velvet pincushion.
The maw of the cleft is dark. Aged fingers of sunlight reach within, feeding the nesting birds the warmth of its final hours. Flits of feathers echo amidst song shared and repeated by rocks and gulls.
Move down, and the schism narrows, too tight for sunny fingers to squeeze through. Bird calls can still be heard, but now also the ocean that breaks against the rock. The curve and tooth of moss and stone twist the crash into new sounds, hollow and whispering of what else the dark hides.
The cliff itself grows in your periphery; the color of coffee met with cream. It is faceted like the edge of some primitive blade, so that it does not crumble to sand when struck, but cleaves into knives and needles. The surface is a sea of waves in desert hues, each crest a razor to the palm.
Down further now, nearing the tide that grows louder, the gap of black only as wide as your arms outstretched. There are no birds now, but if your eyes adjust, bundles of bats can just be seen, shuddering and stretching as they rouse to fly with the evening stars.
Down, and down, narrower and narrower, louder and louder, until a short tunnel forms, large enough for four men to stand abreast, with four more on their shoulders.
At the end of this short journey, within the cacophony of a hundred waves breaking a hundred shores, there is the very top another tunnel, which would surely be revealed at lowest tide.
A shimmer of golden torchlight dances there like a hearth fire, brighter and warmer than the remains of the sun.”
Can you see it?
Wonderful.
My character has no name, but is called “Aesir” after Norse tradition. He is a man that is not a man, with silver eyes, hair long and black and wild, fair skin and dark furs that cover it. Wings blacker than his hair appear as needed, ethereal, each feather that of a peacock, yet where fake eyes would be, real eyes watch, prismatic and shining in judgement of good or evil.
He does not know how to speak, but can share feelings and visions to convey his intent, in a way he has done with few others.
His purpose is to protect the locals from evil airs and spirits. The people rarely catch sight of him, but are grateful for his work; they place charms to invite his protection: of a pair of raven feathers with two rainbow eyes painted on the wide ends, strung together to the striker of a silver bell, that when the wind blows, the chime rings out to him.
Possible stories we could write together:
A woman—your creation—crashes her ship at the cleft in the rock, needing rescue or saving herself, suddenly standing before him in his cave.
A resident of a local village seeks him out, in search of his help or in gratitude. Perhaps she is declared evil unjustly, perhaps she simply needs to meet him herself.
An arranged companion, selected from the community, to help him in his work protecting the local villages.
In all cases, he will show himself to you, because you are different, in a way you define.
If you would like to make the one that meets my angel, let me know.
Thank you for your time.
-lex

Looking for someone to game with and voice chat while we game.
Would prefer someone who is also 420 friendly so we can do it together. Also open to watching anime, tv shows, or movies together.
I enjoy Elden Ring (help I'm bad), Destiny 2, New World, Grounded, Valheim, Apex (noob at it), No Man's Sky, and ToTK. I'd love for someone to play with me, watch me play, me watch them play, or play together on discord.
I'm liberal and fat. Message me if you're fine with all of that.
Looking for something long term, 21+
Chat request me to talk

I’ve played a lot of games.. a lot of fucking games. I’ve had my psn since day 1 on ps3.
I’ve played God of War(2018), God of War Ragnarok, Horizon Zero Dawn(both) Uncharted(1, 2, 3 &4) Elden Ring, Sekiro, Ghost of Tsushima, Dark Souls(1, 2, & 3) Spider-Man, Infamous, red dead 2, etc.
And I’ve platinum’d 80% of those mentioned..
STILL
if i could go back right now and play just one game all over again…
it’s crazy how not even close it is, that I’m choosing Bloodborne, every day of the fucking week!

(Tags: Angel, Tarzan & Jane, Romance, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Iceland)
41/m, I write as many paragraphs/lines as I feel are needed. Dialogue can be a paragraph or less, scene setting can be five or more. It doesn’t matter a lot to me so long as you’re interested and invested in what we do. If you’re not, say something and we’ll change it up.
I’m on UTC-5, or Central Time, US. I work night audits right now, so I’ll have a lot of downtime. Available times are between 5pm to 10:30pm, then 7:30am-10am Sunday-Thursday. If you’re up late, or work nights, I can always post during work.
I’d like to see your posting frequency to be at least once every other day, though if you’re making huge posts where you take your time, a couple a week is fine. Or several a day! I can post at least 3-4 times daily, depending.
I am chill about this. How good your writing is isn’t that important to me, though I’d love a sample. I write as best I can because I love writing. I just ask you speak to me if there’s a concern, rather than just run and block. I can adjust, but I would rather solve a problem than cut someone out of my life.
Here’s the first image I had of the setting:
Iceland. Perspective suspended in the air over the sea, facing the top of a cliff with a jagged fissure in it, just a few hours before sunset.
"The sun is a starburst of tarnished brass, too old to be gold, too soon to be scarlet, suspended just above the edge. The scattered grasses than lean off the ledge are emerald and look warm to the touch, but just slightly. The air holds the breath of winter within it—the sharp points within a velvet pincushion.
The maw of the cleft is dark. Aged fingers of sunlight reach within, feeding the nesting birds the warmth of its final hours. Flits of feathers echo amidst song shared and repeated by rocks and gulls.
Move down, and the schism narrows, too tight for sunny fingers to squeeze through. Bird calls can still be heard, but now also the ocean that breaks against the rock. The curve and tooth of moss and stone twist the crash into new sounds, hollow and whispering of what else the dark hides.
The cliff itself grows in your periphery; the color of coffee met with cream. It is faceted like the edge of some primitive blade, so that it does not crumble to sand when struck, but cleaves into knives and needles. The surface is a sea of waves in desert hues, each crest a razor to the palm.
Down further now, nearing the tide that grows louder, the gap of black only as wide as your arms outstretched. There are no birds now, but if your eyes adjust, bundles of bats can just be seen, shuddering and stretching as they rouse to fly with the evening stars.
Down, and down, narrower and narrower, louder and louder, until a short tunnel forms, large enough for four men to stand abreast, with four more on their shoulders.
At the end of this short journey, within the cacophony of a hundred waves breaking a hundred shores, there is the very top another tunnel, which would surely be revealed at lowest tide.
A shimmer of golden torchlight dances there like a hearth fire, brighter and warmer than the remains of the sun.”
Can you see it?
Wonderful.
My character has no name, but is called “Aesir” after Norse tradition. He is a man that is not a man, with silver eyes, hair long and black and wild, fair skin and dark furs that cover it. Wings blacker than his hair appear as needed, ethereal, each feather that of a peacock, yet where fake eyes would be, real eyes watch, prismatic and shining in judgement of good or evil.
He does not know how to speak, but can share feelings and visions to convey his intent, in a way he has done with few others.
His purpose is to protect the locals from evil airs and spirits. The people rarely catch sight of him, but are grateful for his work; they place charms to invite his protection: of a pair of raven feathers with two rainbow eyes painted on the wide ends, strung together to the striker of a silver bell, that when the wind blows, the chime rings out to him.
Possible stories we could write together:
A woman—your creation—crashes her ship at the cleft in the rock, needing rescue or saving herself, suddenly standing before him in his cave.
A resident of a local village seeks him out, in search of his help or in gratitude. Perhaps she is declared evil unjustly, perhaps she simply needs to meet him herself.
An arranged companion, selected from the community, to help him in his work protecting the local villages.
In all cases, he will show himself to you, because you are different, in a way you define.
If you would like to make the one that meets my angel, let me know.
Thank you for your time.
-lex

(Tags: Angel, Tarzan & Jane, Romance, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Iceland)
41/m, I write as many paragraphs/lines as I feel are needed. Dialogue can be a paragraph or less, scene setting can be five or more. It doesn’t matter a lot to me so long as you’re interested and invested in what we do. If you’re not, say something and we’ll change it up.
I’m on UTC-5, or Central Time, US. I work night audits right now, so I’ll have a lot of downtime. Available times are between 5pm to 10:30pm, then 7:30am-10am Sunday-Thursday. If you’re up late, or work nights, I can always post during work.
I’d like to see your posting frequency to be at least once every other day, though if you’re making huge posts where you take your time, a couple a week is fine. Or several a day! I can post at least 3-4 times daily, depending.
I am chill about this. How good your writing is isn’t that important to me, though I’d love a sample. I write as best I can because I love writing. I just ask you speak to me if there’s a concern, rather than just run and block. I can adjust, but I would rather solve a problem than cut someone out of my life.
Here’s the first image I had of the setting:
Iceland. Perspective suspended in the air over the sea, facing the top of a cliff with a jagged fissure in it, just a few hours before sunset.
"The sun is a starburst of tarnished brass, too old to be gold, too soon to be scarlet, suspended just above the edge. The scattered grasses than lean off the ledge are emerald and look warm to the touch, but just slightly. The air holds the breath of winter within it—the sharp points within a velvet pincushion.
The maw of the cleft is dark. Aged fingers of sunlight reach within, feeding the nesting birds the warmth of its final hours. Flits of feathers echo amidst song shared and repeated by rocks and gulls.
Move down, and the schism narrows, too tight for sunny fingers to squeeze through. Bird calls can still be heard, but now also the ocean that breaks against the rock. The curve and tooth of moss and stone twist the crash into new sounds, hollow and whispering of what else the dark hides.
The cliff itself grows in your periphery; the color of coffee met with cream. It is faceted like the edge of some primitive blade, so that it does not crumble to sand when struck, but cleaves into knives and needles. The surface is a sea of waves in desert hues, each crest a razor to the palm.
Down further now, nearing the tide that grows louder, the gap of black only as wide as your arms outstretched. There are no birds now, but if your eyes adjust, bundles of bats can just be seen, shuddering and stretching as they rouse to fly with the evening stars.
Down, and down, narrower and narrower, louder and louder, until a short tunnel forms, large enough for four men to stand abreast, with four more on their shoulders.
At the end of this short journey, within the cacophony of a hundred waves breaking a hundred shores, there is the very top another tunnel, which would surely be revealed at lowest tide.
A shimmer of golden torchlight dances there like a hearth fire, brighter and warmer than the remains of the sun.”
Can you see it?
Wonderful.
My character has no name, but is called “Aesir” after Norse tradition. He is a man that is not a man, with silver eyes, hair long and black and wild, fair skin and dark furs that cover it. Wings blacker than his hair appear as needed, ethereal, each feather that of a peacock, yet where fake eyes would be, real eyes watch, prismatic and shining in judgement of good or evil.
He does not know how to speak, but can share feelings and visions to convey his intent, in a way he has done with few others.
His purpose is to protect the locals from evil airs and spirits. The people rarely catch sight of him, but are grateful for his work; they place charms to invite his protection: of a pair of raven feathers with two rainbow eyes painted on the wide ends, strung together to the striker of a silver bell, that when the wind blows, the chime rings out to him.
Possible stories we could write together:
A woman—your creation—crashes her ship at the cleft in the rock, needing rescue or saving herself, suddenly standing before him in his cave.
A resident of a local village seeks him out, in search of his help or in gratitude. Perhaps she is declared evil unjustly, perhaps she simply needs to meet him herself.
An arranged companion, selected from the community, to help him in his work protecting the local villages.
In all cases, he will show himself to you, because you are different, in a way you define.
If you would like to make the one that meets my angel, let me know.
Thank you for your time.
-lex

(Tags: Angel, Tarzan & Jane, Romance, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Iceland)
41/m, I write as many paragraphs/lines as I feel are needed. Dialogue can be a paragraph or less, scene setting can be five or more. It doesn’t matter a lot to me so long as you’re interested and invested in what we do. If you’re not, say something and we’ll change it up.
I’m on UTC-5, or Central Time, US. I work night audits right now, so I’ll have a lot of downtime. Available times are between 5pm to 10:30pm, then 7:30am-10am Sunday-Thursday. If you’re up late, or work nights, I can always post during work.
I’d like to see your posting frequency to be at least once every other day, though if you’re making huge posts where you take your time, a couple a week is fine. Or several a day! I can post at least 3-4 times daily, depending.
I am chill about this. How good your writing is isn’t that important to me, though I’d love a sample. I write as best I can because I love writing. I just ask you speak to me if there’s a concern, rather than just run and block. I can adjust, but I would rather solve a problem than cut someone out of my life.
Here’s the first image I had of the setting:
Iceland. Perspective suspended in the air over the sea, facing the top of a cliff with a jagged fissure in it, just a few hours before sunset.
"The sun is a starburst of tarnished brass, too old to be gold, too soon to be scarlet, suspended just above the edge. The scattered grasses than lean off the ledge are emerald and look warm to the touch, but just slightly. The air holds the breath of winter within it—the sharp points within a velvet pincushion.
The maw of the cleft is dark. Aged fingers of sunlight reach within, feeding the nesting birds the warmth of its final hours. Flits of feathers echo amidst song shared and repeated by rocks and gulls.
Move down, and the schism narrows, too tight for sunny fingers to squeeze through. Bird calls can still be heard, but now also the ocean that breaks against the rock. The curve and tooth of moss and stone twist the crash into new sounds, hollow and whispering of what else the dark hides.
The cliff itself grows in your periphery; the color of coffee met with cream. It is faceted like the edge of some primitive blade, so that it does not crumble to sand when struck, but cleaves into knives and needles. The surface is a sea of waves in desert hues, each crest a razor to the palm.
Down further now, nearing the tide that grows louder, the gap of black only as wide as your arms outstretched. There are no birds now, but if your eyes adjust, bundles of bats can just be seen, shuddering and stretching as they rouse to fly with the evening stars.
Down, and down, narrower and narrower, louder and louder, until a short tunnel forms, large enough for four men to stand abreast, with four more on their shoulders.
At the end of this short journey, within the cacophony of a hundred waves breaking a hundred shores, there is the very top another tunnel, which would surely be revealed at lowest tide.
A shimmer of golden torchlight dances there like a hearth fire, brighter and warmer than the remains of the sun.”
Can you see it?
Wonderful.
My character has no name, but is called “Aesir” after Norse tradition. He is a man that is not a man, with silver eyes, hair long and black and wild, fair skin and dark furs that cover it. Wings blacker than his hair appear as needed, ethereal, each feather that of a peacock, yet where fake eyes would be, real eyes watch, prismatic and shining in judgement of good or evil.
He does not know how to speak, but can share feelings and visions to convey his intent, in a way he has done with few others.
His purpose is to protect the locals from evil airs and spirits. The people rarely catch sight of him, but are grateful for his work; they place charms to invite his protection: of a pair of raven feathers with two rainbow eyes painted on the wide ends, strung together to the striker of a silver bell, that when the wind blows, the chime rings out to him.
Possible stories we could write together:
A woman—your creation—crashes her ship at the cleft in the rock, needing rescue or saving herself, suddenly standing before him in his cave.
A resident of a local village seeks him out, in search of his help or in gratitude. Perhaps she is declared evil unjustly, perhaps she simply needs to meet him herself.
An arranged companion, selected from the community, to help him in his work protecting the local villages.
In all cases, he will show himself to you, because you are different, in a way you define.
If you would like to make the one that meets my angel, let me know.
Thank you for your time.
-lex

Hi guys, sorry for bad english (if anyone read this^^) i'm French.
My 1st video game was diablo on PS1 (at 5/6 year old, maybe mom doesnt read boxes kappa) and it was amazing, and fu**ing terryfing too (playing it at night under blankets didnt help).And the Butcher part, i think i peed in my bed for some years with that, without telling anyone.
Why i say this you may ask ?
The thing is today, i'm 32 years old (birthday last week) man who burned out from 10 years of retail work with theese recent 2 years pandemic. Left my job, looking to do something for me, but also something for others, but also something for planet, but also something for quantum mecanics, look i dont know what im doing ok.
Right now i'm meidcally followed, and im healing and that's cool. Depression can but really fun most of the time (if you have right friends :) ). But my visions of the world are (r)evolving, i'm like a child woking up to see the deperssion, that depressed the depression. And this from a priviligedged point of view (here, this platform, the irony).
So TLDR : Today>! i lived the best video game fight of my life, when, 26 years later, at act 5 i think (so like late game imo atm), when i gave up the hope of hearing the words "fresh meat" (and given the previous decoy of Nevest quest), i FINALLY hread them : they pumped my heart with pure kid joy. And it was fantastic.!<
Then i looked at the arena, the space and spawn made exactly to make you run in circles, both in 0 or 8 fashion, if you wanna evade him. Thats pure genius simple gameplay by placing 2 simple pillars is amazing by it self (wow glad experice in dev team?^^). But thats not all. Because then...then, when he died - litteraly 30sec later tho - (i love side quests^^) it was even better. He didnt dropped the usual cutting/slashing mashing he normaly drops. He drops a ring, it has "this name (depending on your country, shoud be the samemeaning i presume, hence the ring)" this name has many meanings at this moment for this person (me, low thirty years old who dont know what hes doing, remember ?) and many meanings for this video game/compagny itself, that i really lived a pure gamer moment, like i didnet felt for maybe 10 years. I felt it can left dreamy about this narrative choice, and i appreciate it. Thanks blizzard for this/theese moments, i growed with them (played all diablo/blizz game related). :)
im crying of joy RN, and today i had a good day.^^ i dont know what really what this emotion was, but it felt good, and i tried to "spread it" in a good way her with anyone (often dead letter on internet tho^^). Hope it can light someone day, see you in game anyway^^it was a long time ago, i forgot how it felt, a good day.(And yeah im pretty sure that, by now, all theese "ring/circle/cycles thing is known and trivial by the community of diablo, but i went kinda spoiler free in the game and it felt good)didnt even checked if someone even mentioned it to dont double post, sorry tho.
So now i just hope the image(s) loads first try haha.
[EDIT] mid readproofing : D4 disconected due to inactivity lost my campain progress i hate this game no im kinding i love it i dont know what im doing remember ? :)

I was being bullied by a group of "friends" for a long time. Mentally, verbally and sometimes physically too. I always held my own but never punished them for their deeds. That was my biggest mistake ever.
After adults got involved recently, they left me alone for some time. But whenever they were in a large group of 4 or more people they would verbally threaten to beat me up or attack me. I had been waiting for an excuse for a long time anyway.
Last weekend they went too far and taunted my mother. I held my peace. Later at like 10 pm, I ran into the ring leader and his friend alone at night. Again they shit talked me like hell.
I have been going to Muay Thai, BJJ and Wrestling classes for about 2 months now. I have learnt to fight pretty good. The bully came at me to punch me.
I kicked him just above the knee as hard as I could and he went to the ground screaming and didn't get up ( he was conscious just injured). The friend ran away to call his parents. I mounted him as taught in BJJ and beat the ever living shit out of him.
Punched him in the face (no head kicks), kicked him in his Solar Plexus too but I got also got hurt. After beating on him for a minute or two, I ran home and told my parents.
Surprisingly, his parents weren't angry with me for beating him up. They were mad I didn't tell them earlier.
Aftermath is that they left me alone and didn't bother so far. The bully hasn't any serious injuries but was still in a roughish shape.
I don't regret anything

Spoilers ahead.
“The fallen leaves tell a story. The great Elden Ring was shattered. In our home, across the fog, the Lands Between.
Now, Queen Marika the Eternal is nowhere to be found, and in the Night of the Black Knives, Godwyn the Golden was the first to perish.
Soon, Marika's offspring, demigods all, claimed the shards of the Elden Ring. The mad taint of their newfound strength triggered the Shattering. A war from which no lord arose. A war leading to abandonment by the Greater Will.”
I know that there is some kind of dramaturgy involved influencing the choice of words. But still, after spending so much time thinking about the lore and then again hearing the intro kind of starting feeling odd.
What’s first
Just a minor issue but: Why does it sound that the it is first the shattering and Marika vanishing and after that it is the night of the black knives? Ingame the presented Order of events goes the other way around. There are theories going around that the timeline Order is different and that the shattering was earlier then pictured, and just with this intro line I can understand where these theories come from.
Get yourself a rune
Why does the intro use the word claim while in the game the word used is “inherited”. If great runes are inherited in kind of a mystical way than every demigod would get his share. Witch would fit that even the shackled Mogh and Morgoth or someone seemingly week like Godrick got one. The first one sounds greedy and, in some way, aggressive.
Not going for the kill
Then there are the mad taint words combined with the words on the war. Painting a very sinister and bad picture on the Demigods. But just take a short look on these wars.
The first defense of Lyndell against Godefroy, likely shown in the cinematic. The items around Morgoth give the impression that the Golden linage is in charge of being the Lord of Lyndell. Which would fit as the linage of the First Elden lord. And given the iconography and the throne in Stormveil it could likely be that Stormveil is also seat of the golden lineage, maybe the seat of the second in line. With Godwyn dead it feels a bit as if Godefroy was there claiming his linage rights, coming from Stormveil to Lyndell. With him he has the Godfrey icon fitting someone claiming his royal birth right. But the “sovereign alliance” won’t let him. The wording itself feels oddly liberate to me, giving an impression that it is something like a kind of anti-royal force. With no god and no lord around and Godwyn dead the rich and mighty might have seen their chance. Or alternatively this alliance is routing for Rhadagon and his linage, wanting Miquella to enter the throne. Most interestingly the alliance wins and they lock Godefroy up, but they do not kill him. So, this first big battle feels more because of heritage than of something all that “mad”.
With that attack Godrick seemed to flee the capital. A bit later likely Morgoth took over and did put the Golden linage back in charge in Lyndell. Fittingly somewhere around that time early after the shattering the Nobles and Aristocrats were thrown out of Lyndell.
Then there is Rhadan marching against Lyndell. There is this picture in the opening with a fight against Margit and the words of Keneth Height describing a march of Rhadan passing Godrick in Stormveill. So, when there was a battle between Margit and Rhadan, they did not go for the kill. For the possible reason: Rhadan seems to be strongly addicted to Godfrey and therefor it would seem likely that he goes for Lyndell to be sure the right one rules over the capital. If he then found Morgoth and did understand an acknowledge his linage, it would fit to just turn around and go back. We find no real evidence for a war of the “foot soldiers” of Rhadan at Lyndell. This would fit Margits fighting style going directly for the champion. And again, there is no kill.
Then we have the march of Malenia to the south. Here comes Godrick likely strengthened by his own grafting and as we are told he lost to Malenia. And again, she does not go for the kill.
It is then in the battle of Aonia we get the only clash where it seems one demigod goes for the live of the other. This is a strong hint. If Malenia is not there for a Great rune, then it is something different she needs Rhadan dead for. Best theory here seems to be that she wants him dead to free the moon, because Miquella needs the moon for his eclipse.
And this is likely all for the direct aggression following the shattering. The next things are likely linked to the arrival of the Tarnished.
For example, Margit protecting Stormveil and therefor Godrick. So, in a way Morgoth does not like Godrick but respects his rule over Stromveil. If Morgoth sees himself as the higher one in the linage order ruling over Lyndell then letting Godfrey rule Stormveil would be quite like it should be. Morgoth seems to drive this protection against the Tarnished even further as along with himself he even stations a Tree sentinel in Limgrave.
Then there is Rykard, whose union with the snake is then finally a small taste of madness, as this seems to trigger the Assault on mount Gelmir from the Lyndell forces. But reading through the items around Rykrad his motivation feels like he wanted to search for an exit of the current state of the world, which is at least a little bit understandable. Along with his longings there is an underlaying aggression against Tarnished. He makes them kill each other and devours the strongest himself.
This is more a short overview and rambling over these issues. But coming back to the topic, the war of the demigods before the Tarnished arrived does not fell all that mad. It did not lead to a new lord or god, but with Rhadagons sealing of the Erdtree are they to blame? In a way they are in the same situation as us. The difference seems to be that there is no real urge for them to kill each other. There are several occasions where they had the chance and didn’t do it. This indicates the demigods are not going for Great runes and do kind of respect each other’s live.
Conclusion / Question
The intro draws a bad picture on the demigods. It feels as if there is an urge to heat up the Tarnished to go after them. Is it just the Greater Will at work because the demigods are denounced? The Two fingers in the Hold seem to not even know about the sealing of the Tree and therfor about the pinch of the demigods. Are they therefor kind off falsy accused?
What do you think?

This happened several months ago, but it’s still weighing on me and I need some more opinions. Hang tight, this explanation is going to be a bit lengthy.
I (19M) was with my ex-girlfriend (22F) for almost three years. We’ll call her Jess. At the time of our breakup, I was 18 and she was 21. That means- you guessed it- we started dating when I was 15 and she was 18. That’s a problem in itself, but I’ll get to that later.
Jess and I met the summer before she went to college, and I clicked with her pretty quickly. I developed a crush on her but I figured nothing would happen because of our age difference. Eventually, however, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and I told her my feelings. She told me that she reciprocated them, but because of our age difference and because she was going to college, she didn’t want to pursue anything. I accepted this, and we continued being friends. However, near the end of the summer, Jess and I and our other friend, we’ll call him Hank, had a sleepover. We were watching movies all night and Hank fell asleep pretty quickly. Jess and I were cuddled up next to each other and she randomly asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I said yes, but I moved away from her physically. She had made it clear that nothing was going to happen, and I wanted to respect that. Before I could process what was happening, Jess pinned me down and kissed me. I tried to push her off but I couldn’t, she was too strong. When she finally let up, she said she felt horrible, and “wasn’t in control of her body” at that moment. I said it was fine, but we didn’t talk for the rest of the night after that.
The next day, Jess and I talked. I told her I was confused because of the boundaries we had established, and I told her that consent was very important to me. She agreed and apologized. Things were tense, but I forgave her, and off she went to college. We continued talking, and Jess told me flat out that she didn’t want a relationship with me. Again, I respected it. I went to visit her in college, but once again, she kissed me without consent. I was so confused. We talked more and I again forgave her. The more we talked, the more I wanted to be with her. Then, one day when we she was home in October, we were making out on my bed and she asked me to be her boyfriend. I happily agreed.
I hate to admit it, but I spent most of that relationship pretending to be happy. She could be a miserable person to be around, not to mention that she was older and had so much more experience than I did- this was my first real relationship. Throughout the time we were together, Jess was a bit insufferable. She wanted to call and FaceTime me 3-5 times a day, when she knew I was busy AND had phone anxiety. She would get upset when I didn’t want to. I felt like I had to constantly be in my phone to respond to her and answer her, and I felt like I could never hang out with my friends or catch a break. Not to mention that she basically refused to hang out with my family and would get upset when they wanted to spend time with us. She heightened my anxiety immensely. Also, Jess had a lot of mental health problems, but didn’t try to get much help. She’d go to a therapist occasionally, try meds but go off them. I basically became her therapist when I had my own issues going on that I needed support for. The summer before we broke up, I was in the worst depressive episode of my life and she didn’t even notice.
All that aside, I was going through something else as well. I had began to realize I was gay. I had always identified as bisexual, and I am a trans man as well. It’s not uncommon for trans people who go on hormones to have a shift in sexuality, and that’s what I think happened to me. I tried for months to let her down easy with this, but anytime I would remotely mention or hint at it, she shut down the conversation immediately. Eventually I got to the point where I convinced myself it would be easier to stay with her than break up with her. She basically made me get her a promise ring as well.
Then I got to college. Long story short, I broke up with her because I just realized how utterly miserable I was and I fully accepted my sexuality and identity as a gay trans man. The breakup was ugly. It lasted days because she kept talking me out of it. I eventually put my foot down and did it when she was visiting me one weekend. First she kissed me when I asked her not to, claiming that she didn’t know what else to do to get me to stay. Then she was crying, threatening to hurt herself, the usual. Her family told me they were praying for me. She went through an awful time and I felt horrible, but what was even worse, I felt instantly relieved.
I got with my now boyfriend fairly soon after the breakup. I knew it looked bad, but I never cheated on her. Right person right time thing. After the breakup, which I truly only broke up with her because I was gay, I started to realize that the relationship wasn’t great and the age gap was bad. I was a child for the majority of the relationship and she was an adult the entire time. She reached out to me with questions of clarification and I communicated this to her in a phone call, in a way that I felt was as mature as I could. Hence another breakdown, her family cutting me off, etc. I realize this all must feel very sudden for her, and I felt awful about it, but I could not be in that place mentally any more. Since then, I have had the best year of growth for my life yet.
I recently reached out and messaged her, just to say that I hope she’s doing well, and I apologized for the hurt I caused during our breakup. She seemed receptive to the apology, but definitely is being more independent and doesn’t want to pursue being friends again (which I am totally fine with, and honestly, I think is good for both of us).
I’m very happy and content with my life now, and absolutely thrilled to be with my boyfriend in my new relationship. However, after years of being with Jess, it’s been hard for me to shake the guilt. It’s been about 9 months and I still feel bad. I know it might sound dramatic, but I seriously feel like I have PTSD from this relationship. Did I do the right thing? Was there anything I should have done differently or anything I should apologize to her for? I feel like I shouldn’t label myself as a victim, but I don’t know. Sorry for how long this is, and thanks if you read it all.

TW: underage relationships, non consensual activity, mental health issues
This happened several months ago, but it’s still weighing on me and I need some more opinions. Hang tight, this explanation is going to be a bit lengthy.
I (19M) was with my ex-girlfriend (22F) for almost three years. We’ll call her Jess. At the time of our breakup, I was 18 and she was 21. That means- you guessed it- we started dating when I was 15 and she was 18. That’s a problem in itself, but I’ll get to that later.
Jess and I met the summer before she went to college, and I clicked with her pretty quickly. I developed a crush on her but I figured nothing would happen because of our age difference. Eventually, however, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and I told her my feelings. She told me that she reciprocated them, but because of our age difference and because she was going to college, she didn’t want to pursue anything. I accepted this, and we continued being friends. However, near the end of the summer, Jess and I and our other friend, we’ll call him Hank, had a sleepover. We were watching movies all night and Hank fell asleep pretty quickly. Jess and I were cuddled up next to each other and she randomly asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I said yes, but I moved away from her physically. She had made it clear that nothing was going to happen, and I wanted to respect that. Before I could process what was happening, Jess pinned me down and kissed me. I tried to push her off but I couldn’t, she was too strong. When she finally let up, she said she felt horrible, and “wasn’t in control of her body” at that moment. I said it was fine, but we didn’t talk for the rest of the night after that.
The next day, Jess and I talked. I told her I was confused because of the boundaries we had established, and I told her that consent was very important to me. She agreed and apologized. Things were tense, but I forgave her, and off she went to college. We continued talking, and Jess told me flat out that she didn’t want a relationship with me. Again, I respected it. I went to visit her in college, but once again, she kissed me without consent. I was so confused. We talked more and I again forgave her. The more we talked, the more I wanted to be with her. Then, one day when we she was home in October, we were making out on my bed and she asked me to be her boyfriend. I happily agreed.
I hate to admit it, but I spent most of that relationship pretending to be happy. She could be a miserable person to be around, not to mention that she was older and had so much more experience than I did- this was my first real relationship. Throughout the time we were together, Jess was a bit insufferable. She wanted to call and FaceTime me 3-5 times a day, when she knew I was busy AND had phone anxiety. She would get upset when I didn’t want to. I felt like I had to constantly be in my phone to respond to her and answer her, and I felt like I could never hang out with my friends or catch a break. Not to mention that she basically refused to hang out with my family and would get upset when they wanted to spend time with us. She heightened my anxiety immensely. Also, Jess had a lot of mental health problems, but didn’t try to get much help. She’d go to a therapist occasionally, try meds but go off them. I basically became her therapist when I had my own issues going on that I needed support for. The summer before we broke up, I was in the worst depressive episode of my life and she didn’t even notice.
All that aside, I was going through something else as well. I had began to realize I was gay. I had always identified as bisexual, and I am a trans man as well. It’s not uncommon for trans people who go on hormones to have a shift in sexuality, and that’s what I think happened to me. I tried for months to let her down easy with this, but anytime I would remotely mention or hint at it, she shut down the conversation immediately. Eventually I got to the point where I convinced myself it would be easier to stay with her than break up with her. She basically made me get her a promise ring as well.
Then I got to college. Long story short, I broke up with her because I just realized how utterly miserable I was and I fully accepted my sexuality and identity as a gay trans man. The breakup was ugly. It lasted days because she kept talking me out of it. I eventually put my foot down and did it when she was visiting me one weekend. First she kissed me when I asked her not to, claiming that she didn’t know what else to do to get me to stay. Then she was crying, threatening to hurt herself, the usual. Her family told me they were praying for me. She went through an awful time and I felt horrible, but what was even worse, I felt instantly relieved.
I got with my now boyfriend fairly soon after the breakup. I knew it looked bad, but I never cheated on her. Right person right time thing. After the breakup, which I truly only broke up with her because I was gay, I started to realize that the relationship wasn’t great and the age gap was bad. I was a child for the majority of the relationship and she was an adult the entire time. She reached out to me with questions of clarification and I communicated this to her in a phone call, in a way that I felt was as mature as I could. Hence another breakdown, her family cutting me off, etc. I realize this all must feel very sudden for her, and I felt awful about it, but I could not be in that place mentally any more. Since then, I have had the best year of growth for my life yet.
I recently reached out and messaged her, just to say that I hope she’s doing well, and I apologized for the hurt I caused during our breakup. She seemed receptive to the apology, but definitely is being more independent and doesn’t want to pursue being friends again (which I am totally fine with, and honestly, I think is good for both of us).
I’m very happy and content with my life now, and absolutely thrilled to be with my boyfriend in my new relationship. However, after years of being with Jess, it’s been hard for me to shake the guilt. It’s been about 9 months and I still feel bad. I know it might sound dramatic, but I seriously feel like I have PTSD from this relationship. Just need some assurance either way. Sorry for how long this is, and thanks if you read it all.

I played Bloodborne for the first time in 2015 and I was like wtf is this shit, because I kept dying and dying in Central Yharnam. Since then I have finished Sekiro, DS2+3 and Elden Ring... Then I gave BB another try like six months ago and finished my first playthrough and it was HARD. Now I have restarted again, playing with different weapons and I just cant stop. Now I'm thinking like best game ever lol. I love the lore, the outfits, the weapons... Don't know why I'm writing this, I think I just want to share my appreciation for this badass game

[WTS]Treasure Cache I & II 2019

 

- Huge Discount for bulk orders (>100$)

- Massive Discount for FULL set buyer (normal till very rare)

• Cache Seller since 2017 , steam level 200+ , my steamrep
• Have about 600+ Cache Sets available
• Accepting USDT/USDC/SOL/BNB/BTC/ETH/LTC or any famous crypto
• Accepting dota2/csgo skins or tf2 keys
• Open to offers / Price is Negotiable
• Buyers goes first
• No Joybidder / Backout buyer please
• All Cache Sets are giftable 30 days after add friend

 

3 simple steps to deal

1. Please add BOTH my main account , 2nd acc with more ES/gothic whispecincer sensei

###WARNING### KINDLY TAKE NOTE TO ONLY ADD THIS 2 ACCOUNT (There are active scammeimpersonator trying to scam you via fake account)

1. Comment on my profile (eg: Added for Cache Set 2019 - Cinder Sensei)
   
2. Wait for 30 days to complete the deal (I may or may not require deposits depending on scale of purchase)
   

 

----------Treasure Cache I 2019----------	--------Hero--------	Quantity	Price(USD)
Echoes of the Everblack	Abaddon	7	$14
Allure of the Faeshade Flower	Dark Willow	12	$10
Paean of the Ink Dragon	Grimstroke	14	$7
Scorched Amber	Dragon Knight	12	$15
Priest of the Proudsilver Clan	Chen	11	$5
The Arts of Mortal Deception	Enigma	17	$10
Poacher's Bane	Tidehunter	14	$7
Soul of the Brightshroud	Death Prophet	13	$7
Curse of the Creeping Vine*only via fullset purchase	Undying	4	$15
Pursuit of the Ember Demons	Huskar	15	$15
Appetites of the Lizard King	Slark	14	$18
Forbidden Medicine	Dazzle	13	$15
Riddle of the Hierophant	Oracle	12	$5
Glimmer of the Sacred Hunt	Drow Ranger	8	$29
Adornments of the Jade Emissary*only via fullset purchase	Earth Spirit	5	$24
Defender of Ruin (Rare)	Disruptor	18	$25
Gothic Whisper (Very Rare)	Phantom Assassin	3	$99

 

----------Treasure Cache II 2019----------	--------Hero--------	Quantity	Price(USD)
Sight of the Kha-Ren Faithful	Drow Ranger	18	$15
Tribal Pathways	Warlock	20	$7
Directive of the Sunbound	Clockwerk	13	$7
Souls Tyrant	Shadow Fiend	15	$19
Endless Night	Abaddon	12	$7
Dapper Disguise	Pudge	15	$15
Fury of the Bloodforge	Bloodseeker	16	$10
Automaton Antiquity	Broodmother	16	$5
Tales of the Windward Rogue	Pangolier	7	$24
Grim Destiny	Wraith King	15	$9
Distinguished Expeditionary	Tusk	17	$10
Verdant Predator	Venomancer	14	$7
Prized Acquisitions	Batrider	19	$5
Fowl Omen (Rare)	Necrophos	19	$25
Cinder Sensei (Very Rare)	Ember Spirit	6	$99

 

----------Treasure Cache I 2020----------	--------Hero--------	Quantity	Price(USD)
Origin of the Dark Oath*only via fullset purchase	Night Stalker	4	$15
Ravenous Abyss	Underlord	8	$12
Apocalypse Unbound	Ancient Apparition	9	$12
Beholden of the Banished Ones	Warlock	8	$7
Fury of the Righteous Storm	Disruptor	9	$7
Lineage of the Stormlords	Juggernaut	7	$25
Silent Slayer	Silencer	9	$9
Mindless Slaughter	Pudge	10	$15
Heartless Hunt	Bounty Hunter	8	$13
Herald of the Ember Eye	Grimstroke	9	$9
Fissured Flight	Jakiro	10	$7
Flashpoint Proselyte	Huskar	9	$14
Signs of the Allfather	Nature's Prophet	8	$9
Glory of the Elderflame*only via fullset purchase	Lina	2	$25
Songs of Starfall Glen	Enchantress	7	$5
Ancient Inheritance (Rare)	Tiny	10	$25
Forsworn Legacy (Very Rare)	Mars	5	$59

 

----------Treasure Cache II 2020----------	--------Hero--------	Quantity	Price(USD)
Evolution of the Infinite	Enigma	9	$9
Beast of the Crimson Ring	Bristleback	6	$9
Clearcut Cavalier	Timbersaw	7	$9
The King Of Thieves	Keeper of the Light	7	$7
Horror from the Deep	Tidehunter	8	$19
Ire of the Ancient Gaoler	Arc Warden	7	$19
Talons of the Endless Storm	Chaos Knight	9	$14
Carousal of the Mystic Masquerade	Rubick	9	$9
Crown of Calaphas	Shadow Demon	8	$9
Wrath of the Fallen	Doom	9	$19
Blacksail Cannoneer	Sniper	8	$14
Secrets of the Celestial	Skywrath Mage	8	$9
Blaze of Oblivion	Phoenix	9	$9
Master of the Searing Path*only via fullset purchase	Ember Spirit	1	$19
Steward of the Forbidden Chamber (Rare)	Templar Assasin	9	$19
Claszureme Incursion (Very Rare)	Faceless Void	4	$59

Here he the original post for context:
https://www.reddit.com/amiwrong/comments/13q0yxq/i_46m_got_into_a_discussion_with_my_gf_45f_that/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
This is a long one guys, sorry.
I got so many supportive comments on the original post and I can't begin to tell you all what it meant to me. Believe it or not it made the break up a little less traumatic knowing I had a few thousand people behind me (even if they were all strangers). So thank you to all of you. I also got quite a few requests for updates and a lot has happened in the last few weeks since the brake up so I thought I would share for those who care to know.
So the gf (now "ex" gf which she will be referred to as from this point on) was calling me constantly over the next week. It was bordering on harassment. She would apologize over and over and say that she loved me and no longer felt like I raped her and she just wanted to be with me again, etc. I told her repeatedly that while I wished her no ill will, I just felt like we weren't meant to be and she would be better off finding someone less rapey than me. (ok I was harboring a little resentment that may have come off a tad immature at times).
At one point I told my daughter (28f and not from the ex) everything about the break up and what she said about me raping her at the wedding.
If I may digress a little for just a moment, I would like to explain. My daughter was born when I was 17. I pretty much raised her on my own. Her mom was very flakey and was rarely around. But in all fairness, she was only 18 so she was just young and not ready for a child. Not that I was anymore ready, but I knew somebody had to be the parent. So I think because we were so close in age, my daughter and I have a very close bond. We pretty much tell each other everything and no subject is off limits. For example, I was the first person she told when she gave her 1st blow job and then again when she lost her virginity. How many daughters do that?
Because we are so close, my daughter has always been very protective of me. I didn't introduce her to most of the women I dated while she was growing up but the couple that became serious relationships she met and let's just say she wasn't very warm and welcoming to these women. But she was older when I got with my ex and while my daughter was not the most friendly to her upon meeting her, eventually they became pretty tight.
So after telling my daughter all about it (in hindsite it may have not been the smartest move I've ever made) she became so angry that she called my ex (I didn't know she did this nor did I condone it. But how could I be angry with her for standing up for her old man?) She offered to arrange my ex's face for cheaper than a plastic surgeon would and also to remove any teeth to prevent any toothaches she may get in the future. Although she wasn't quite that polite about it if you smell what I'm stepping in.
So my kid and I were sitting on my couch having a couple beers and shooting the shit when the cops knocked on my door. The ex called them and reported my daughter for threatening her. They charged her with a misdemeanor for the threats but they didn't arrest her or put her in jail. Needless to say she wanted to make a visit to my ex after that but I was able to talk a little sense into her.
Later that same night I got another call from my ex with more of the crying and the "I'm sorries" and she wanted to just forget everything that has happened and she no longer feels like I raped her and she just wanted us to be together again. She asked if she could come over to talk and she alluded to us having sex, I guess thinking I am just a dumb ass man and the offer of sex would have me forget that she accused me of rape and tried to have my daughter arrested. (And yes I know my kid should not have threatened her but I don't care. That's my kid and right or wrong I've always got her back).
I told the ex that I was not interested in talking nor was I ever going to be sticking my dick in any of her holes ever again. (I'm sorry for the crudeness but that's the way I talk in real life and especially when I'm angry). I asked her to please stop calling me and just let me live my life in peace.
I hoped that would be the end of it but as we all know, hope springs eternal but was not to be my luck. At about 3 am I awoke to something that normally I quite enjoyed waking up to but this night I was not pleased. She had broke into my pad (well she didn't really break in. I forgot to get her key from her when she moved out so she let herself in) and knowing that I always sleep naked, she came into my room and was sucking my dick.
Like I said, normally that would have been awesome but this time I was infuriated. I started screaming at her to get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops on her like she did my daughter. It was actually the closest I've ever come to hitting a woman. I'm proud to say that I was able to hold my composure enough to keep myself from doing it as I have taught my daughter from the time she was 5 years old that she NEVER allows a man to put his hands on her more than once. If a man ever hits her she should find away to get away from him and come find me and I'll take care of it from there. So I could never allow myself to be the one to hit a woman. I would never want my kid to think I was a hypocrite and that is the only reason she didn't get punched in her teeth.
She started crying and begging me to please talk to her so I'm ashamed to say I did grab her by the arm and walk her out of my room to the front door only to find some friend of hers sitting on my couch. I guess the ex's car was not running so she got a ride from this friend. So now I'm standing in my living room, stark naked, yelling for them to get the fuck out of my house. Which woke up my daughter, who was sleeping in the spare room because she had too much to drink and I didn't want her driving.
My daughter comes out of the room with a baseball bat because she didn't know who I was yelling at and she thought we were getting robbed. When she saw who I was yelling at she actually tried going after the ex and her friend but I was able to stop her and got her to go into the bedroom so as to not have to see her old man in that state. I ordered my ex to get the fuck out and told her I better never hear from her again.
Next morning I have off from work so my daughter and I are eating breakfast and talking about going to get new locks for my house later when I get a knock at my door. My daughter answered it and low and behold it is 2 detectives. My ex apparently was now trying to have me arrested for raping her. I couldn't believe it. Well, I guess I could believe it, but it was still a shock none the less.
They said that she had called and told them she wanted to report me that I raped her and that it was regarding an incident in a hotel room after attending a wedding and they were there to ask me some questions.
Now believe me when I tell you that I'm not a man that just readily cries in front of people, much less total strangers. But for some reason that I couldn't explain, I just started crying. I wasn't balling like a little girl or anything but there were for sure tears in my eyes, and I was unable to hold them back. Being about as embarrassed and ashamed as a man can be I excused myself to the bathroom. I pulled myself together and washed my face. I gave myself a stern talking to about crying like a pussy in front of total strangers. And I started heading back out to the living room. I got as far as the hallway when I heard my daughter, half yelling, obviously crying herself, telling the detectives basically what a bitch my ex is and that I didn't rape her that we were just drunk and had sex and it was my ex that initiated it in the first place.
I walked back into the living room, tears and blubbering behind me and told my kid that I would handle my business from here and to please excuse herself to the bedroom.
Once she had left the room the female detective asked me if that was really what had happened and I told her it was. They thanked me for my time and they left. A few hours later my phone rings and it is the same female detective. She told me that they went to my ex's and asked her to go further into detail about what happened. They asked her were we both drinking and she admitted that we were. They asked her had I forced myself on her while she told me no and surprisingly she told them no, that she was in fact the one who initiated the sex. The detective then asked her if she was the one that initiated it then how exactly was it that she was feeling like I raped her. She said that she was drunk and a woman cannot consent to sex while she is drunk so if a man has sex with her then that is rape.
The detective said she had to keep herself from laughing out loud. She then told my ex that she didn't know where she was getting her info from but she explained that it is illegal for somebody to have sex with another person if that person is so intoxicated that they are unconscious, or just unable to effectively consent or deny consent. She said that what happened between her and I was nothing more than two people having consensual drunk sex and if she wanted to be technical about it, since my ex is the one that initiated the sex, consent wouldn't even fall to her. It would fall to me and so if anybody was committing rape in that situation it would have been her, not me. But the fact is nobody raped anyone.
Then the detective said my ex got huffy and asked her how could she possibly have been the one committing rape since not only was I the man, but I had an erection and a man cannot be considered raped if he has an erection during the act .
The detective told her that she wasn't sure where my ex was getting her information from, but that she was wrong in every thing that she was saying and that she should be a little more careful about making police reports and spouting off what essentially equates to nonsense because she could have done some serious damage to somebody else's life under the right circumstances.
I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to hear all that stuff that this detective was telling me. I really wish I could have been there to see my ex's face when she was informed of all this, although I know that is just childish and petty on my part.
Then the detective said something else that I was not expecting. She told me that my daughter had told her about the night before when I woke up to the ex sucking my dick. She asked me if it was true and I said yes. The detective told me that if I wanted to, I could report that as a sexual assault and she would be arrested. They would probably just release her on her own recognizance, but she would still have to go to court and if found guilty she would have to register as a sex offender.
I couldn't believe it. I really thought about it, but I have no desire to ruin my ex's life. I just want her out of mine. But you can bet I had fun telling my ex what the detective told me and I used it to tell my ex if she ever contacts me again that I would do it. And also, she needed to have the charges on my kid dropped. But if she did that, had the charges dropped and then never contacted me again, I would not report her for sexual assault. She agreed. And I can't be happier .