Words to describe someone starting with y

I‘ve been cross-dressing on and off for years, but it never occurred to me that I might be trans. At the start of this year I started agonizing over the fact that I might be. Every minute I wasn’t focused on something else I spent thinking about my gender. „Am I trans? Am I gender-fluid? Something else entirely? I don’t have too much dysphoria, is it ok for me to be trans?“ Questions like that.
A few weeks ago my egg finally cracked and I started to take action. Wearing hair pins, going to hair removal appointments, and scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist (because that’s needed for HRT here).
And suddenly I feel happy. Possibly for the first time in my life. I was indifferent about pretty much everything up to this point. I never really cared about anything. But this is different - I feel like a huge weight, I didn’t even know I had, was lifted from my shoulders. It’s almost impossible to describe how I‘m feeling right now, but it definitely feels great.
On some days I feel like a fraud, thinking „If I‘m this happy without even doing a whole lot of feminine stuff in public yet, am I really trans?“. But I try to stay positive and enjoy the way I‘m feeling right now.

Tisishen Part Continued..
I was stuck at my current work at Mao’ye. A mall in the central part of Taiyuan in Shanxi. Coal dust central China. Frequent dust storms leaving me having to wipe the window sills of dust piles collecting. Life felt dry as the air—numb. I never know what I want. Drifting like paper in a breeze.
23 and feeling empty. Left the previous English training center I working at teaching adults. Company started going bankrupt. Boss was an asshole. He was originally from Datong near to Inner Mongolia.
That boss ran the company horribly. Was a coward of a boss. He would watch the cameras and email complaints on my dress code and not talk to me in person. A coward.
When the company was nosediving I got sent an email in the middle of the day stating my job would be terminated by the end of the month. I worked in china as an American. In china most jobs are based on contracts between employees and employers. I was supposed to continue another seven months with my job. The contract was broken when they emailed me saying they could not keep me due to salary. Contracts can be broken due to performance but not due to finance issues. I had already work for them a year on another contract. The law in China states I was due to be paid a year and a half of salary. My boss was such a coward to not speak to me in person and email the letter. I marched in his office and got told to fuck myself. I talked to the labor board at the local government office. I was told was told that I that they would have to pay me a year and a half of salary for breaking my contract.
Those times were rather gray for me. Clouds were heavy like gnats flying around the face. My girlfriend at the time was a stern nurse. The girl made of paper. She stayed beside. My fortress. Put up for adoption by her family in Henan. Where her adopted mother would put her hands in scolding hot water for punishment. She marched into my boss’s office and created a storm. He refused to budge. A few days later when the labor office contacted him he was willing to keep me for the rest of my contract. The labor office said that because my job was offered back I could not be paid if I left my job, as it would be my choice at that point. Frustrating. My wife had her uncle’s boss contacted from Taiyuan to go into the office. She had some influence in the area. She threatened to look over various certificates to get the branch in trouble. My boss did not budge. I decided to just go ahead and leave this English training center for teaching adults. I went for a new company that paid more passed in the Moye mall on the other end of the city. Now I would be teaching children again like I used.
Is this all I am? A server?
It makes me think of a time right before I met the woman made of paper. Stern from her experiences. A fighter. I like fighters.
I met fighters before. Reminds me of a story. A story I hold deeply to my heart. There was a woman named Ming. I met her through surfing on WeChat nearby searching for people looking for others nearby. Older by a few years. Met and became acquainted over messages.
Christmas tree lights in my head
Perched to be exploited…
Balloon with the air let out
Hissing all the time… because it whines
The inferno in me wants me to burn
Because it feels right
Christmas trees lit are under pressure—they know if they dry up the whole building will be in flames
So you have to be festive when you decorate—and avant-garde with who you decorate with
Maximalist at heart with pleasure
Nomads tend to wander to find a better part of the steppe
With a phallus as a Swiss Army Knife,
Paddling in northern China building a trench
22 year old Midwesterner with psychosis looking for a frigate to save him from the deep end
Impulsivity a catalyst for losing everything
I don’t care if you’re married, if you have a tunnel you can help me in the trench
Two staged rocket—
Already psychotic
Be a Launchpad
So I can get even further from earth
Ripple through the galaxy like I got a mission—
Even if it’s delusional
Another N1
Get myself on disconnect in the vacuum
Even if I come down Iike napalm.
I met Ming because I needed her and she needed me-even if she was married. I was 23 and without security. MY first job that I forgot from my boss Ryan was insane at times. Working without a visa for a company was unbearable. I felt obligated to my boss at that time he promised he could solve my issue if I worked hard for him. And I did. He was a bit corrupt too and not the greatest. Always offering going to brothels with people to make deals happen, including trying with me too. I never went. I did work hard for him though. I wanted to escape my predicament and he knew all the right people to contact to fix my problems if I met my obligations. Obligations could mean being asked to go to another training center to work part time and gather their curriculum for my school.
It felt unstable not knowing when I could get arrested or taken away. Made Ming a perfect connection to come across. I needed a friend that brought stability. She was a radio broadcaster in the city. Extremely wealthy. She would take me on outings eating delicious cuisine in the city or among weekend trips to interesting places nearby. I consider her one of the greatest friends I had. Because of her it was getting to meet other connections at outings with friends at KTV and clubs in the city. Like rhizomes growing out of a tree. Sustainability. It led to more rhizomes of connections. Something I want to talk more about. But I need to move the clock a bit. To the start of this ramble.
I was working in Maoye. I was on a legal visa at this time. My colleagues were not legal. They were often Slavic. Russian, Ukraine, and other Slavic nations. We had an office in the building setup on a third floor of a large mal with various classrooms for the foreign teachers to teach in. They would generally have a Chinese teaching assistant to help them in the classrooms. I taught students from pre-k age to middle school there.
In the middle of the setup of the floor layout was a large open office. I would sit and plan lessons and grade amongst the Chinese staff and foreign teachers. One day I grep of plain clothed officers came into the facility. They were checking on teachers on the wrong visas. The Russian teachers and others often could not fluently speak English or qualify for the correct visas—they didn’t meet the right requirements for work visas and would be on other various kinds of visas. They stormed in and I remember my Russian friend hearing the commotion tore his shirt with his logo on it and threw it on the ground in a rush. He ran shirtless down a stair well nearby flinging the doors open. Fear, anger… got to fill their class schedule while they are all out hiding.
Final Taishen
I met Chang’e. Do you believe in the transplanting of thoughts? I do. Like pollen.
My thoughts can transplant and Change can do the same too.
Mania got me again. I wrote a poem when I was younger to express it.
Feeling bold and exacerbated
Maybe I am just high strung
Ricocheting off these walls like bumper cars
A sparkler burning hot and bright
Popping off like roman candles
I am not always calm, but I am high,
A kettle left on the burner and forgotten,
Watch me melt away into my ecstasy
Where I dance and scream all in one
I’ll hit peak when crisis comes.
I hadn’t been sleeping. I took a second English teaching job and was seeing attending to seeing different people besides Ming.
Ming was kind and always took me on nice dinner dates. I didn’t have to worry about expenses and felt secure.
I was back on my smartphone looking and fishing for people nearby. Chang’e came in as a breeze from Luoyang to meeting a relative in Taiyuan.
Chang’e was working for a boss in Taiyuan. She would go on the WeChat application looking for men nearby. Flirt to get them to meet her. Like moths in dark they get to the lights:
Useless as a glass door. You can peek through. Pigeon-toed. Drained an ocean to fill insecurities. Uncomfortable thoughts ricochet in me. Like an ambush. Giddy when disappointed. I build trenches amongst the tripwires of life. City feels like a tsunami. Manners like a bloated tick. Sipping the veins from any limb around me. As a stranger to a moth, a porch light pulling. Desolate in lost thoughts. Nights awake and bunkering in hotels. Soft in my voice, I hopscotch to hands—falling through like particles of sand. With enough friction to set off an atom bomb. To radiate right through me, and hollow my marrow. Amongst open nerves I can feel something, so I play with the pain. No matter how annoying.
As particles I transplanted through to her screen as we lay in our separate beds in the city. Mania makes me dumb. We flattered away. Fused as particles.
Her intent was for me to arrive at a designated location to drink and eat late into the night—11:00 p.m. With this given location I would be taken down like an elephant via poachers—that was the intent. At the location I was to be given an outrageous bill for the service and if I did not pay a group of big men would use their physical presence to get me to pay.
When I met her at the given location outside the door. I knew the tricks. I tested her. Asked if she would be willing to eat at another location.
She thought she would eat me and I thought I would eat her. My test was asking her to go to another place at the KTV nearby where I knew somebody that worked there—a karaoke location—the LED lights shining and me and her staring at the direction of them.
She hesitated and insisted on the location next to us. I said I had to go—before I left to contact if willing in the future to go to the KTV.
Where a perpetual hydrogen bomb would go off on our fused particles.
………. Final
The End
Her name was Lily. She wanted to be a princess. Or that is what she said all the time. Kind of hope she was joking. But I have the same problem. She kept talking about peaches and their rising cost. She was a host for live streaming . She was Korean but was cosmopolitan. She spent time in america going to school and aside from English she also learned to speak Japanese fluently .
She wanted to know if peaches were of a similar price back in america. Small talk is necessary or it can feel claustrophobic. Agonizing.
I was viewing and felt agony. Like so many do. I needed more and better than the life I felt.
Imagine calling 988 for a bit of help. You are isolated and all alone in your predicament. Where is the support? Why I get a robot on the line talking to me telling me to wait—where are the humans?
Alienation n the chamber of life. That is my life as Taishen.
Lily and her viewers provided a sense of community that I did not have. And it appears she was a contact with Chang’e via streaming that I did not know.
I am just Luo feeling alienated and climbing over the wall to get some needed assistance. Comfort amongst cold—sanctuary—hope. I was staying in Zhengzhou at this time. Originally from the flower city of Luoyang in Henan—a central province of China. I was working at the Foxxconn factory—where parts of the IPhone were made—largest iPhone factory based in China. I have to ear to feed my family like anyone else. I have a 7 year old daughter being watched by my mother in law in Luoyang—my wife was working in guangzhou at a factory. I never get to see my wife. I had feelings she might be in a relationship with a man in guangzhou. How can she be blamed? She has no love around. Her just like I don’t. If my wife is with another I might as well do my best to find connection. To stay afloat. Brushing gifts to a live streamer. I was even starting to pick up on new languages like Japanese, English, and Korean by doing it. My life was a trap. I must work to bring security to my wife who cannot bring security to me. To leave her would cause me to lose face and I would rather die than face that. Life can never be ordinary for me.
The days and habits of finding a sanctuary on an iPhone that I had to slave away and make amongst my unhappiness was a cruel punishment for just being me. I always am the victim. I’m unable to deceive myself to be happy. Nobody to hold me—I am a fish out of water. I feel the tension pull me like hooks trying to rip me into confetti—I am sure some would applaud at the sight of me being gone.
News and gossip of a virus running around like a plague. From Wuhan. Amusing as my former love came from there when we met in university. She left me like everyone else. I need Freon like a freezer to cook the hate off I feel inside me. I blend in my feelings of worth and self until it spatters as something abstract and abhorrent—like mold on a wall.
Aside from live stream hosts, I found an escape smoking hashish and going to the local brothel with colleagues. I ventured further and further from recognizing who I am. And the news of COVID had only made it worse. And n my hometown near Luoyang they put dirt and and tree trunks to block the roads to keep people from coming in and going out. I went along like getting stuck in thorny bushes and my calves left burnt. The factory became like a firecracker left held in hands pointing up to the sky. Like there is a thing like hope. There is none—gone like air out of a balloon. My fate was stolen away.
Security wanes no matter the solidity of the rock—just take enough rain to form a flood to erode—like banks as paper—pretty on the outside but not secure when the money is all gone.
Within the factory we were not receiving our allowances like we did before. Amongst stress of Covid and its unknowns we became like fish in a shrinking pool of water—agitated and biting each others scales. Abrasion. Friction. An unleashed turmoil to become a tsunami of emotions. Class felt like an overhead lamp causing the eyes to go red and burn.
Cases popped up like sprouting trees with rhizomes. When we wanted our own rooms we were told it was not a possibility. Healthy stuck with sick like classes mixing—a metaphor of it all—anger soar like geyser. Covid became a judicial sentence. Amongst a couple months before the banks failed and people could not get the money they put in. Large sums! And when the anger rose it set off the codes on our phones. Everyone must show their status. If one was positive for Covid their icon was red to indicate level of restriction—one must stay home regardless if the food that came from the government was fresh or if it even ever came at all. Green was good. But soon if you criticized the banking failure your code was red to keep one quit. The virus was the police—a means to shut up somebody like a baton. And the batons would come at the factory. Causes soon that political red of a dot was mixed with the green to allow infection to the healthy, which mean the baton of the government saying the worth of us—we were meant to shut up and is our part at the factory and ass caged dogs. Like the paper banks—when the money ran out the codes were sent to red to keep mouths homes while plain clothes cops beat the working class in the name of the communist party. Our party became paradoxical as the sickle and hammer—as it became more of the baton to make the money run and build the iPhones that make happy elites in Beijing who couldn’t care about zhengzhou. Like ants escaping the confines of an anthill drowning in the rain. Popping like bubbles in anguish.
Everything was blended in this world. Even Lily was not who she seemed. But I rather save that for another time.
The bubble was extended and the people left the confines of their residents on the company grounds despite orders that all must stay within due to COVID. Enough had formed for rebellion. Outside on the grounds the workers threw rocks, bottles, and metal fence at security in to shut them up. The batons came. iPhones were out to record what was happening. The image was bad and the workers were paid to leave the commotion and uprising as a means of saving face.
Heaven’s mandate was showing—the promise that all would be in order from the authority provided over all—no natural disasters—and I could smell flood water in the future. Beijing was not so efficiently coupled to Henan. And the security provided was looking like a facade—like glowing skyscrapers pointing at heaven—but in reality most of the buildings had nothing inside of them—bubbles to burst like the agitation felt at Foxconn.
Lily was a facade—Lily was actually Chang’e putting a show on iPhones, with perpetual hooks extending like a limb from the screen for men to bite on. Money like a work for hungry sparrows everywhere—a curse running through the zeitgeist of the time—and it was looking like the concrete was crumbling around the barriers to keep floodwaters out.
I want to laugh at the thought of small talk on peaches—the irrigation dug to make land fertile was looking more like the weapon to cause immense harm—there was a contagion besides COVID—the act of treating others as an end instead of ends to themselves—agency lost. It the slap of reality was going to come like a comet wiping extinct the good and the bad—as the water would come and cause the loss of life. In Shangqiu a girl of paper was abandoned by parents in poverty while some officials sent their kids to school abroad with sports cars—one of those princesses ran over someone and even thought heaven made him too perfect to face Justice. Something was wrong and scarily felt like it just begun.

This all started a few years ago. After I found out I was gay, I started occasionally thinking about what it would be like if I were a girl. I was very depressed at the time (and still am, but I'll come back to that later), so I started to hate myself and my body more and more.
It's getting worse and is seriously starting to affect my life. It's become more of a desire, because pretty much everything would be better if I were a girl. Normally that would be enough for most people to accept they're trans, but there are a number of factors that make me doubt I am.
1: I'm gay, so that might have something to do with it.
2: So far I've identified as a femboy, because that would explain why I want to dress more feminine.
3: I'm extremely introverted and lonely. Therefore, I don't know much about other people and their feelings. I once asked my friends (granted, only three people) this: if there was a button that would turn you into a girl for a certain amount of time, would you push it? They all said yes. And they are all cis. So I've always been of the opinion that the interest in being the opposite sex is only common among cis men.
4: I'm depressed.
So I think maybe it's just a side effect of all these things and that I'm just overthinking it. It's like I'm just sad and lonely and into guys and that's why I came up with this explanation for all of this.
But I'm really not comfortable with my height, my face, my voice, hell, my whole body.
If I were a girl, pretty much everything would change for the better for me, but right now there's just no way for me to transition. I'm too tall, my father is extremely transphobic and I don't have the courage to tell anyone.
It makes me more and more depressed every day.
I just need someone to talk to this about and some advice. Thanks.

I dont even know how I landed in this situation. Let me start with I fell in love with a narcissist. Kay county is a joke of a law system, they gave my ex po with no proof of her lies then somehow said I broke said po when I did no such thing. Next thing I know I’m being arrested in the middle of the night for felony stalking. Now I’m having to deal with all of this after a mental breakdown due to said ex. I have a lawyer but he wont meet with me till I pay him more money so I have no clue what if any evidence the state has. I have no priors for any sort of violent relationship issues. I dated this woman for a year and the lies she tells about me in her statements are shocking to me. I never raised a hand or yelled at this person yet somehow she is now scared for her life and her new boyfriend. Someone please help me make sense of this insanity. I feel like I’m in a twilight episode.

I just broke up with a girl like some days ago. So I'm pretty hurt, but here are some things you can do.

1. DO NOT contact her, I know how hard it is, mainly me that's in school and I see her pretty much everyday, DO NOT contact her no matter how much your intrusive thoughts want you to.
   
2. Do things slowly, there's no need to rush, I know that you just want to get rid of the pain but trust me, rushing won't help, it will just make it worse.
   
3. Do a t-chart on your journal or on a piece of paper and do one side negative things they did to you and the other the positive things, one thing you have to be able to tell yourself and helped me a bit is, the negative stuff, they most likely will only happen with this person and this person only, the positives? They can happen with anyone, maybe someone you meet in the future.
   
4. The pain is real. Acknowledge it. It is. And it hurts a lot. But that's how everything you lose in life goes.
   
5. I know that right now it feels like you may never love anyone else, that they were the most beautiful and great person ever, and even if you are right or wrong, it doesn't matter, soon your gonna start seeing that she wasn't the only one.
   
6. One of the hardest things for me is imagining her telling someone else the things she told me. Accept she will, but so will you, even if you don't believe it right now.
   
7. I like to think of that person as unrequited love. Even tho yes u were in the relashionship and she loved you, but rn they don't, or even if they do they doesnt want anything with you anymore and that's basicly what unrequited love is right?
   

I really hope you guys the best, its gonna be hard for me too, I love you and you can do it even if it doesn't seem you can.

In November or December 2023, l ordered my IR dilator set (sizes 1-4). Despite my initial excitement, I hesitated to use them-until today. Out of nowhere, I found the courage to give it a try. When I started with the smallest dilator, it felt quite uncomfortable, almost like a needle-pricking sensation. I was petrified and sweating, but I focused on my breathing and pushed through the discomfort. To my surprise, I managed to insert about 3/4 of the dilator. After a few minutes, I remembered I had IR water-based lube, so I decided to give that a try. I slathered the dilator with the lube and tried again. This time, you won't believe it—I was able to insert the whole dilator without feeling any discomfort, pain, or hurt. While inserting, I used a gentle left-right technique that someone on this sub suggested. It worked wonders! I managed to move the dilator in and out a few times without any hesitation or discomfort. Amazingly, I kept it in for a full 10 minutes! This is the biggest achievement for me so far, and it has made me hopeful for the future. For now, I'm going to stick with this size for a few more tries before moving on to the second one. This experience has shown me that progress is possible and that with patience and perseverance, I can overcome my fears and discomfort.

I'll try and keep it short because I could go on for a while about our history together. I was with my ex (who I suspect has bpd) for four years. We lived together for two years. She also has a seven year old daughter who sees me as her Dad. The relationship got progressively worse as it went on, especially the last year together. All the usual things you would expect from someone with bpd, apart from cheating, I don't think she did that. But the angry outbursts, rages, starting fights over nothing, lying, drinking, drugs, treating her daughter very badly, shouting and screaming at her, treating me badly, not caring about anybody but herself, being very self absorbed, self centred etc. There was a crisis nearly every week, she was negative about everything, she was always the victim. Every ex-boyfriend was abusive. She had had a traumatic childhood and suffered with depression which I did my best to help support her with but in the end she wore me down until my mental health was at breaking point.
I can say hand on my heart that all I ever wanted was the best for her, I was supporting her with university, and doing whatever I could to make her happy. I was so happy when we moved in together, thinking how lucky I was to have such a gorgeous girlfriend and happy, loving step-daughter. I was on cloud nine. It's all I ever wanted, a happy family and good times. No drama (I still expected life's up and downs of course), just making happy memories. But she took advantage and I started doing more and more, with her caring less and less. For a short period I was basically a single dad working a full time job. I don't say this to get sympathy just to paint the picture of how I was pushed to complete exhaustion keeping her happy, trying my best to look after and support my family. And her ways also brought the worst out in me. I would try not to get sucked into arguments but she would eventually push my buttons until I shouted back and then I would hate myself afterwards. This has never happened in previous relationships. I don't have a temper and my family joke about how if I was more laid back I would fall over. I was turning into someone I wasn't, my mental health was declining, I could no longer make excuses for her behaviour and I left.
After I left, I was an absolute wreck. A shell of myself. I was anxious, didn't know up from down, my head was frazzled. I found out about bpd, after looking for an explanation for her behaviour and it seemed to fit. I told her about it thinking it might explain things for her too. It didn't go down well. Then I did a deep dive into it and found out about npd and wondered if she had this too as it also seemed to fit. I then went through the 'Wait a minute, am I the narcissist' phase? Mostly through her accusing me of being the abuser which also really messed with my head. I asked my parents and my sister if I had done anything wrong (not the most impartial opinion I know) after I had told them truthfully, plainly and simply everything that had gone on in the relationship, even leaving some of her bad behaviour out of it as I knew it would upset them. They said I hadn't done anything wrong and that I had been the victim of an abusive relationship and that she has obvious mental issues. They have also listened to messages I have received from my ex since the break up and also been on the receiving end of one or two from her, which has only made them think even less of her and further confirm their opinion of her. I have also started reading 'Stop Caretaking the Borderline or Narcissist' and it seemed to describe my relationship to a tee. Not to mention finding this subreddit, which has been an absolute lifesaver in understanding my situation and realising I'm not alone.
Recently I stumbled across a post on a narcissist abuse subreddit. The person posting had written out the most commonly used phrases they had found were used by narcissists in relationships and was asking how many phrases members of the sub were familiar with. Almost all who replied were saying something along the lines of 'Yes! This is so accurate to my relationship with my narc. He/she used to say these all the time along with 'xyz'' They were also saying that they had been accused of having bpd, apparently another common tactic of the narcissist. I read the phrases and realised I had said most, not all, but most of them when drawn into an argument with my ex. Also along with the bpd accusation. I was stunned and it's brought back my fears of wondering if I am a narcissist or possibly a covert narcissist? I understand that the usual reply is that if you wonder if you are a narcissist then you aren't one. But I've also heard it been said that this isn't always the case. I also have large amounts of guilt and shame about how I acted in arguments, that were completely out of character for me and hadn't happened in previous relationships. Does this mean I'm not a narcissist? Or am I a narcissist? Was I the problem? Did I make things worse?
I genuinely only wanted a good and happy life with my ex and my step-daughter and I'm looking at therapy to get over it. Any advice appreciated. Tried to keep it short but still rambled. Apologies. Thank you if you read this far. I will write out all the phrases used in the narcissistic abuse post, down below. Thank you.
'Here we go again' 'All you do is start fights with me' 'You're so immature' 'This is what a kid acts like' 'You need to learn to control your emotions' 'I'm not your emotional punching bag' 'You just don't get it' 'I've literally done nothing wrong' 'You never listen' 'I'm so tired of this' 'Leave me alone' 'Anyone would be upset about this/agree with me' Stop making yourself a victim/playing victim/You're not the victim' 'Stop making me into the bad guy'

Hi Reddit friends! I’m here to tell you about my journey and ask for a little help. I used to run a restaurant that I opened back in 2010. But when COVID-19 hit, I had to close it because of money problems. Before that, I worked with import and export between Dubai and Belgium. Right now, I’m working at a company to pay the bills and I’m still paying off some debts from my restaurant. I want to start working as an appointment setter and later on, I hope to become good at closing deals. I’m thankful for everything I’ve learned and I believe in myself. I know I can find my way back. Life has been tough, but I have faith. I’m from Belgium and I speak English, French, and Arabic. If you have any advice on how to get into appointment setting or know someone who can help, I’d be so grateful. Thanks for reading !

Do y’all have any recommendations for therapists in the area that treat panic disorder? I’ve been struggling with panic and physical anxiety (nausea, headache, stomach pain, dizziness, etc) for a while now, and I would like to start therapy with someone that specializes in this type of anxiety. Any recommendations are appreciated!

Hello, I'm Joy (She/They), I'm fairly new to TTRPGs. English is not my first language, but I want to leave my little bubble and DM for people from different places. I really just want to create some fun moments with people and learn more about TTRPGs. So if you are someone who has trouble roleplaying or talking to new people in English, it's okay, I'll be stumbling through my words as well, so we can just laugh about it!
I love roleplaying and improvising stuff. DnD helps me with combat, so if anybody wants to battle hard, we can make it work! In TTRPGs, I cherish the little moments when characters have their mundane conversations and do the simplest tasks together. I usually sprinkle a fair bit of absurdism in my games. Recently, a friend of mine describred our sessions as Chill Horror.
I'm looking for a group that wants to roleplay as a team, players who want to learn more about each other's characters and overall people who want to laugh and enjoy the weirdness that TTRPGs can provide.
I have a flexible schedule. It would be awesome to run a weekly campaign, but first, I would prefer to make a one-shot with everyone so we can discuss if we all want to play something longer and the logistics of it.
We'll be using Foundry VTT and Discord, only mic is necessary.
-> The Form where you can apply if you're interested in playing!

Hi everyone! I am a new college graduate looking for some advice as I start to think about where to pivot to after working my first job for a few years.
Firstly, a few things about me: I just graduated with a major in International Economics (minors in math and spanish) and will be working for an economic consulting firm postgrad, at least in the near future. I have always been interested in energy/sustainability (I'll be working for my firm's energy practice) and am looking for some advice in considering whether to pursue an MBA or a JD a few years down the line. I'm someone who is pretty flexible academically and is really just interested in the niche where I can work in an industry that is at least somewhat tangential to energy/sustainability while still making a decent enough salary to hopefully support my family later on.
In terms of pursuing an MBA, I could potentially see myself pursuing project finance (hopefully centered around renewables), Climate Tech / Clean Tech, or even MC if it would allow me to pivot to a role that's along the lines of my interests later on. I'm totally open to other suggestions, this is just what I've read so far.
For a JD, I could see myself doing energy law / clean tech law, although I know that these roles are highly competitive, especially fresh out of law school. I also think that the legal side of project finance could be interesting, although I haven't done as much research into this area.
Does anyone have any suggestions choosing between these options or experience in any of these related fields? How do you feel about pursuing an MBA or a JD given my interest in energy/sustainability? What are some of the pros/cons? Are you more limited in getting jobs geographically with an MBA or a JD? Any answers/comments/suggestions are very much appreciated, and thank you all so much for your time!

Growing up I identified as a girl and about 3 years ago my gender changed and I became agender. I don't feel like I was wrongly identifying in the past but rather that my gender did change over time. I feel like there's a chance my gender could change again someday in the future perhaps (or maybe not). I however would never identify as something masculine. Words like genderfluid have always seemed like someone's gender changing day to day. Whereas my gender only changes after many years. What word best describes this?

This pen is junk. I have dozens of pens, from cheap starters I don't mind getting scratched to my Lamy 2k.
This Hongdian 100 though is perhaps the worst pen I have ever owned. Against my better judgement I got one of these with an architect nib and the problems started immediately. I grabbed it from pens-world on eBay. First strike was that it smelled like fresh tobacco and the nib arrived scratched to bits. After fighting with the seller for a few days they agreed to send me a new nib. It was either that or they refund me a whole $3 dollars...
Whilst faffing about with the scratched nib the next thing I realised I hated was the weight and bulk of the pen. Lots of reviewers said the pen was really light despite its look and build. Nah mate. The Lamy 2k is light. This thing is like holding a crowbar...
This leads me on to number three. This is the thirstiest pen I own! Yeah I know I have the architect nib and the lines are exxtra thick but this runs out of ink like in minutes. On top of that, it doesn't store much ink at all and the ink evaporates out of the chamber extremely quickly. Due to the short mechanism, you can't pump the tank full and there's a pretty big air gap.
Last and absolutely WORST of all about this pen. The necessity of needing to SCREW IT CLOSED. This is something I absolutely cannot excuse whatsoever. Because after only a week of using it. My nib is stuck inside the lid! I've used everything from tweezers to putting the lid in almost boiling water to try and expand the metal so I could get it out. There's nothing to try and grab on to. Because it screws in, it's gone and jammed itself up in the lid and instead of unscrewing from the lid, the nib unscrews from the rest of the pen... Leaving the nib inside the lid. I've dozens of times to get it out without damaging the ink intake.
WORST PEN EVER.
All that said and done, I'm willing to give this thing some form of a chance and at least keep it as a paperweight or give it to a friend for free. If someone can help me get the darn nib out of the lid!

I have been dabbling with JavaScript, and understand basic concepts, but when it comes to this project I am at a complete loss and do not know where to start. Can someone point me to some helpful resources that might make this project a little more easier and understandable? It seems like TOP just links everything to MDN and doesn't really elaborate on what to do. I just need some help to get pointed in the right direction. Thank you.

So this is totally a long shot, as its been over 20 years since I have read this book and I dont seem to remember much aside from small bits and pieces.
The cover if I am remembering correctly was all black with a rose or an orchid or lily? It was some sort of flower and it may have had blood or red paint splatters or drips. I believe the title of the book had Black or Velvet in it as well. Something like Black Velvet or Black Orchid maybe? This book would have been written no later than 2007.
A little about the plot....I believe it was about a mother and a young girl who was approx. between the ages of 5 and 10. They start having weird things happening around their house and other places and the mother at times starts to think it is a ghost or something. I briefly remember something about the end of the book having a big twist and I think we find out the little girl was either switched at birth or adopted and all of the strange things that have been happening was from her birth mother who has been suffering from mental illness and tracked her down and is now stalking them and trying to take her back/kid nap her.
Sorry if this isn't much to go on...I remember bits and pieces of this book and for all I know I am mixing up multiple books lol
Thanks in advance if someone is able to figure it out!! My brain is starting to hurt from trying to remember the name of this book lol

(Throwaway, because I'm ashamed of myself; please don't repost this anywhere)
I'm 30+ y.o. pregnant woman in a personal hell of a crisis. In the part of Europe that I'm in, mental health is still a novelty, plus I currently don't have the money to continue my therapy, so here I am on Reddit, venting for advice on how to find joy in my life again.
I'm miserable. I envy my partner, because he's a stranger to struggle. He has a well paying job, clean past, real security. A complete opposite of me - my past is riddled with mistakes, I have a failed business (more on that later) and I barely scraped enough for minimum maternity help. We aren't married, so even though we have started a family and so far he has shouldered the majority of the expenses, I feel like his life is sort of detached from mine. Like I'm on borrowed cash, even though he has never mentioned anything about it. I like to be financially independent and I hate feeling like a mooch.
I envy his parents, too - wealthy and joyous 50-somethings who are living life to the fullest. My parents are like me - always trying to make ends meet, hustling, hardly able to enjoy life. They are older and both have bad sicknesses, I worry for their health a lot.
I am afraid for my future. In the past 10 years I tried to maintain my own business, but looking back, it was barely a way of survival that might even jeopardize my future as I've realized I've made bad decisions that may have laid some nasty mines in my future.
Along with all of this, I have lost any joy in my life. My passion for my hobbies is dead, I don't want to meet people, I have no idea how I will survive with a newborn. I read an article about dying during childbirth and, honestly, that thought gave me a brief relief for a second.
I try to practice gratitude every day, I do realize what I have is precious and I am grateful for it. But I also cry a lot in the bathroom because I feel like I've f-ed up my life, not having achieved any security but the opposite of it. My partner is a good person to me, but he just doesn't get why I feel the things I feel. I no longer even share my thoughts with him, he doesn't understand.
If anyone can offer some words of advice, I'd be very grateful.

This pen is junk. I have dozens of pens, from cheap starters I don't mind getting scratched to my Lamy 2k.
This Hongdian 100 though is perhaps the worst pen I have ever owned. Against my better judgement I got one of these with an architect nib and the problems started immediately. I grabbed it from pens-world on eBay. First strike was that it smelled like fresh tobacco and the nib arrived scratched to bits. After fighting with the seller for a few days they agreed to send me a new nib. It was either that or they refund me a whole $3 dollars...
Whilst faffing about with the scratched nib the next thing I realised I hated was the weight and bulk of the pen. Lots of reviewers said the pen was really light despite its look and build. Nah mate. The Lamy 2k is light. This thing is like holding a crowbar...
This leads me on to number three. This is the thirstiest pen I own! Yeah I know I have the architect nib and the lines are exxtra thick but this runs out of ink like in minutes. On top of that, it doesn't store much ink at all and the ink evaporates out of the chamber extremely quickly. Due to the short mechanism, you can't pump the tank full and there's a pretty big air gap.
Last and absolutely WORST of all about this pen. The necessity of needing to SCREW IT CLOSED. This is something I absolutely cannot excuse whatsoever. Because after only a week of using it. My nib is stuck inside the lid! I've used everything from tweezers to putting the lid in almost boiling water to try and expand the metal so I could get it out. There's nothing to try and grab on to. Because it screws in, it's gone and jammed itself up in the lid and instead of unscrewing from the lid, the nib unscrews from the rest of the pen... Leaving the nib inside the lid. I've dozens of times to get it out without damaging the ink intake.
WORST PEN EVER.
All that said and done, I'm willing to give this thing some form of a chance and at least keep it as a paperweight or give it to a friend for free. If someone can help me get the darn nib out of the lid!

I'm so sick and tired of people playing fucking counters every game, even in quick play. Everyone bitches about tank feeling like shit then also immediately swaps after the first fucking fight just because they lost a fight or it seemed tough, not even cause they're getting countered by the enemy team just off the bat. It's ridiculous. Like you chose your hero for a reason didn't you? Because you wanted to play them. So then fucking play them! Learn them, get good at them. Stop swapping after you lose one fight. Come at it again, maybe you just played it poorly at the start, maybe one of your DPS was standing in the open and got picked off early. But for the love of game itself STOP COUNTER SWAPPING AFTER EVERY FIGHT. 99% of the time you don't even need to. You can just adjust your playstyle to the situation BUT THAT REQUIRES MORE FUCKING THOUGHT THAT PRESSING H AND SELECTING A HERO THAT COMPLETELY IGNORES HALF OF THE MECHANICS OF THE GAME. Should people swap? Yeah of course, if you cannot do anything with your hero then if course you should swap. BUT IF YOU'RE LEARNING A HERO then it's counter intuitive to swap off them when the game gets hard. At that point you aren't learning the hero you're playing rock paper scissors. Play your hero, play the game, don't play counterwatch. It's so fucking pervasive it's all over the game, can't go one fucking QP match without basically the entire team swapping to counter me every match because I actually took the time to LEARN HOW TO PLAY MY HEROES. And because I have fucking morales and I won't play orisa and hog and mauga for stupid brain dead, easy wins I get punished for it. Because I'm good at the game I get punished for it, because I'm better than someone else I get punished for it. THATS SUPPOSED TO BE THE REWARDING PART OF THE GAME, GETTING BETTER AND BEING REWARDED FOR DOING WELL. Instead just a wall of hard counters every fucking game. And that's just the tank experience, support feels like ass as well because none of the current support playerbase even has the phrase "main healer" in their vocabulary and Winston is unkillable. Not to mention because DPS is broken right now all the brainlets are attracted to it clogging up the Q times and making so 7/10 games you have someone playing that plays like they don't even have their monitor plugged in.

I have been so down lately. It has ro particular reason and every small thing is now enough to make me cry. I used to stay silent about it and able to hold back my tears but this year I can’t. For example I have exams and they stress me but no matter how much I stress I can’t bring myself to study till last minute. It is not even that I make that bad on exams, I am an average student but I used to pass any academic event with little to no effort and now days of studying is not enough. During my first exam week, like two months we argued with my sister and I just suddenly started to cry. I don’t even know why but i couldn’t stop either. She understood that time and our argument was over. The last two months we have been fine and happy. But i was feeling stressed today because yesterday I baked for the first time for my classmates but the cookie’s weren’t aesthetically pleasing. I know it is not that important but everyone in my class had to bring something to eat for our class event and I had no other chance but take my cookies. They didn’t even taste bad they were just ugly. While I was baking, my sister texted me to clean up the kitchen and I said okay and after I finished I put dirty dishes to the dishwasher but i couldn’t fit them all so i left some in the counter so my brother in law would load them. Also my cookies weren’t in the oven enough so my sister told me to put them in the oven back and wait a little more.( He can fit anything to that dishwasher. ) After I went to sleep and woke up in the morning we were fine with my sister and getting ready for school (shes a teacher) but I was feeling down because I didn’t want my classmates to make fun of my cookies. They are just ugly and some of them care about aesthetics a lot and bake so good too. Anyway I was walking with my sister and ahe asked why i was looking down and i said it’s nothing because i didn’t want to explain myself because i felt like crying, again for no reason at all. But then we chatted a little and out of the lines i randomly said I wish i didn’t put them back in the oven so they wouldn’t be over-baked. I might be faulty at this point but she took it so personally and told me i was blaming her and I said I wasn’t and I was just complaining. While saying that my voice must be high because one of her student were passing by and she got angry telling me that I cant act like that to her in-front of her students and I said sorry and I didn’t notice. She said I clearly did and did it because i was blaming her for my bad cookies and I said i didn’t again. We argued while walking and while on our way school, she walked towards the market. We were arguing and I already felt bad so while she was going I unintentionally started to cry and she noticed and asked why i I was crying, she askedagain and again. I told her I didn’t have a reason at all and asked if i couldn’t just feel bad out of nowhere and she was angry and told me to just cry. I said i will because I feel much better after crying and she got angry but we separated our ways and I went to school. In school I texted her an apology message and she said it was okay and we were just fine. I even took her some of the bakings my classmates did as an apology gift. After we went home she was giving me the cold shoulder and I tried to approach her but she ignored me. She then told me that my brother in law and her had an argument because I didn’t load the dishes. She said she wouldn’t have another argument with him because of me and I said sorry and I couldn’t fit them all so i left some and she said i could have started the washer and unload it to load it again. I again said sorry and I couldn’t think about it and she said I better have because I am almost an adult now. Then i stood in the kitchen and she said I am sorry for breaking your heart and I was surprised and said it is okay and i never blame her for losing her temper because it is hard to look after a teenager. I was happy because I thought we were on good terms but then she said she was being sarcastic. Again, like baby I felt my tears but didn’t cry and she said as if she is making fun of me: are you gonna cry? I said I meant it and i was never angry at her for losing her temper with me because i make a lot of mistakes. I think. She wanted an angry reaction from me but I couldn’t feel angry at all mostly because I always feel sad over angry. I accept here I didn’t want to give her the joy to win over me so I acted as emotionless I can to make her know that her hurtful words don’t mean 💩 but they do. Though I always apologize, I understand that apologizing is not always enough to cover my impulsive actions so i leave people to be. I did the same thing and went to cry. I honestly try my best to be grateful for everything I have because without her and her husband I d be lost but I cant help but cry at every small argument and event I have with someone, especially family. My sister sacrificed so much for me and I feel so guilty ar every mistake I make. She is ready to spend so much for me but I think of every little money because I feel like a burden sometimes. Also my brother in law says that he never tells me mistakes because i always start to tear up and tells them to my sister which starts an argument between them. I always explain myself and my point of view I never show so much emotion except crying and I think that pisses people off. I always say sorry and i think that piss people off too. I tried to show my anger to people when I argue and I end up crying and more on wrong but we make up faster hen I show anger instead of sadness. She is giving me the could shoulder again and I honestly don’t understand what can I do to be better.

It was like Amazon. For boyfriend's.
According to his bio, Cam was a cat person.
His favorite food was sushi, and he loved horror movies.
His profile was cute. Cam’s photo looked professionally taken. He was a guy in his mid twenties with a slight curl in his lip that teased the start of a smile. Maybe a little on the pretentious side with the Sherlock style trench coat, though his eyes were what pulled me in.
I don't think I had ever seen that shade of blue.
Like staring directly into a perfect, crystalline blue sky.
Not quite natural, but too beautiful to ignore.
Cam was perfect.
Now, I didn't really think this Hire-a-boyfriend thing through.
I found the app through a link my friend Hannah sent me.
After just getting out of a pretty toxic relationship, finding someone to just hang out with was more comforting than dwelling on a relationship I have trouble even remembering. I don't think I can describe loving someone I don't remember. I have zero memories of him, only a vague sense that I was drowning.
That I had to run, to get away from him.
His face inside my mind is more of an outline, a shadow I can't make out. My therapist said it was PTSD, my mind’s way of dealing with trauma. I don't know the details, but I woke up in the emergency room with stitches in the back of my head.
Hanna was straight forward in her text.
She told me Hire-a-Boyfriend pulled her out of depression.
I was sceptical, though the app looked legit.
Like I said, it was Amazon. For boyfriend's.
The interface was cute.
When I signed in through my apple account, the app required a questionnaire after registering.
They asked details such as my likes, hobbies, and who and what I was in the mood for.
The Boyfriend™️ was a bestseller.
I found Cam on the feature page. His reviews were sparkling.
I hired Cam for a wedding! He was amazing! So polite, I wish he was my real bf :( - Lissa.
“Watched a movie with Cam, and he talked all the way through it. Not in a bad way lol, the movie was terrible. This guy was hot. I fully recommend”! - Ryan.
”Hire a bf is amazing lmao, my friends actually thought we were dating. The plastic thing ruins it tho. 😭” - Mina.
Scrolling down, there were even Husbands™️.
Husbands were more expensive, and could be hired for up to three days.
The Boyfriend™️, however, was only available for 2 hours up to a full night.
The app intrigued me.
I thought it was a joke, but could I really hire a pretend boyfriend?
Before I knew what was happening, I was on my second glass of wine, and my credit card was definitely in my hand, squeezed between my fingers.
In the back of my mind, hiring a boyfriend was a whole other level of dystopia.
However, I was still lying to college friends about being taken. Even worse, I blabbed I was fucking engaged at twenty three. This was definitely a me problem. My initial plan was to close down the app and install Tinder.
But my credit card was feeling heavy in my hand, the corner spiking my palm.
Cam was 50 bucks for half a day with him.
50 bucks I would otherwise spend on Uber Eats or over-expensive makeup.
Tapping on Cam, my hands were shaking. I was halfway through the hiring process that was settling on a day, a time, and a location, when a discounted Boyfriend™️ popped up.
Roman.
23.
Leaving soon!!!
Roman had two reviews, which was just a string of heart emojis and another that was hidden. I did see the start of it, but I wouldn't let me tap read more.
Hey! Isn't this… [REVIEW HIDDEN]
The guy’s lack of bio was slightly off-putting. No likes or hobbies, not even a favorite TV show. Roman’s photo stood out, however. Dark hair that was the perfect kind of messy, freckles, and a far-away look, half lidded eyes not even meeting the camera.
He looked like a daydreamer.
It made sense why this guy was on a discount. He didn't smile in one photo, and not even the teasing smirk I was used to with the others. His available photos were him standing awkwardly, arms crossed across his chest, as if he didn't know where to put them.
But, like Cam, this Boyfriend was flawless.
Not a hair out of place, and if it was, that was the style.
Each guy had a color scheme, and his color was chestnut.
His description caught my eye.
Perfect caramel coloured curls and eyes like melted chocolate. Roman is our favorite ‘Fall’ guy! An enemy to a lover in three (yes, three!) dates!
I had to agree. This guy embodied Fall itself, every outfit in deep oranges and browns that reminded me of crisp autumnal mornings. I think they were trying to sell college guy with him holding a book, and looking uncomfortable wearing a pair of glasses. His last photo was a full zoom in, capturing flawless skin and tawny eyes swirling with flecks of red.
Out of all of the guys I had scrolled through, this was the only guy who looked like he had personality.
Cam was cute, yes. But Cam reminded me of a mannequin. He was too perfect.
Roman’s perfection was human enough for him to feel real. Cam was a Ken doll wearing the exact same grin that people knew would sell. Roman was scowling, standing slightly tilted to the left, his hands in his pockets, and then squeezed into fists, before settling over his chest.
I could practically hear the impatient voice behind the camera.
Why are you scowling? Smile! Do you know how to smile?!”
“Eyes on the camera! Look awake! You're supposed to look appealing, why do you look half asleep?!”*
He made me wonder what the BTS behind Hire A Boyfriend was.
Cam was marketed as true love, while Roman was the guy next door who drives you insane, but is also kind of hot.
Were these guys strapped for cash and selling themselves out?
Was this all an act, or were they based on their real personalities?
Either way, I was sold.
Tapping hire, I chose our date to be in the city park at 3PM.
The app asked me if I had any special preferences, and I hesitated.
“Call me a donut.” I typed. If this thing was legit, this poor guy has a script.
I was nervous to meet him. After class in the afternoon, I headed to the park. It was raining, so already the date was going great. The receipt I received in my emails had the exact location, a green bench next to the water fountain.
I was five minutes early, already regretting my spontaneous, wine induced decision making.
Scrolling through my phone with clammy fingers, I was trying to cancel, when the bench wobbled next to me.
Roman.
Dressed in his usual autumnal wear, a levi’s jacket with jeans and a beanie, he looked exactly like his profile, already scowling at the ground, that exact same faraway look in his eyes.
My Boyfriend™️ was purposely distancing himself, sliding further away from me. After getting mildly offended, I remembered his standoff attitude and perma-scowl was his selling point.
The refusal to smile and inability to compliment me.
Enemy to a Lover.
He was acting.
“Hi.” His voice was a low mumble. Still refusing to look at me, he tipped his head back and blinked at the tree looming over us. “It's, um, Jane, right?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
I watched his gaze wander, lingering on a butterfly. He folded his arms, pursing his lips. I had no idea what he was trying to say, before he let out a groan.
“I'm not calling you a fucking donut.”
Ooh, this guy was really getting into the role.
I liked it, playing along.
“It's fine,” I said with a laugh, “It was a stupid request.”
Roman met my eye, his lip curling. He wasn't laughing. “Yeah. It was.”
This guy was a pro.
I thought I'd made a mistake. Especially when my ‘boyfriend’ refused to walk by my side, stalking behind me instead.
He took me to a restaurant and bought me the cheapest option, indulging in the delicacy menu himself, and spent an hour ranting about birds not being real.
I started to realize why this guy was on discount. He was a fucking weirdo.
Still, though, everything about him was endearing.
The way his gaze wandered when I was speaking, like I could physically see his mind jetting off to Saturn.
Roman played with his hair a lot, twirling a single strand around his index. He ate his pasta like a psychopath, using a spoon instead of a fork, and spoke with his mouth full, spaghetti sauce running down his chin.
He (unintentionally) made me laugh out loud multiple times.
When we left the restaurant, Roman surprised me by slipping his hand in mine, entangling our fingers.
His gesture was unexpectedly warm.
When we parted ways, he had the slightest curve of a smile hinting that he was getting a little closer to me.
That’s how Hire a Boyfriend lured you in.
Their guys were like video game characters. I had to pay more to build them.
And that is what I did.
My friend was an artist, and invited me and my ‘boyfriend’ to her exhibition.
I hired Roman for the exhibition, but halfway through the date, he leaned his head on my shoulder, grasping tighter to my hand. He didn't get any less weirder, officially freaking out my friend with the birds aren't real theory. Eve was more amused than scared, immediately asking for his socials.
Roman said he didn't know what a social was, and she laughed harder.
“Your boyfriend is amazing,” Eve told me over drinks, “Isn't he like, literally perfect?”
Yes, he was.
But he wasn't mine.
I started hiring Roman every week, and the more I got to know him, I fell hard.
Every week turned to every day. I was obsessed with unlocking his true character and personality. Each time I hired him, Roman would get less standoffish, his barriers coming down.
He started to lean into me, squeezing my hand, kissing my shoulder.
Cash didn't matter to me, I was barely emotionally conscious when I was entering my card details. Just like the app said, Roman did get closer to me.
Fast forward four months, and I was sitting on a park bench with his head sandwiched in my shoulder, cherry blossoms blooming above us. It felt real.
He felt real.
I can't describe my feelings, because I don't even understand them.
He was the first man I remember truly falling in love with.
When he kissed me, I stopped seeing him as a Boyfriend™️.
Roman was like no other guy I’d ever met. Before him, I couldn't remember having a clear mind. After him, everything made sense. My friends loved him, and I had slowly deluded myself into believing he was real. His true personality was friendly, a little clumsy but in an endearing way, and he made me laugh. The park was our place, and I enjoyed dozing in the sun with his face pressed into my shoulder.
There was just one problem.
Roman was still a Boyfriend™️ which meant he was off limits. The plastic tag sticking out of his right temple assured that. If that wasn't enough, the app sent me hourly reminders, warning me to not get too close. I did understand, it was for the guy’s privacy and safety.
But it's not like Roman wasn't being affectionate himself.
The app said zero touching, including kissing, sexual intercourse. He kissed me multiple times, his head correctly leaning into mine. I still wasn't sure if he was part of his obligation as a Boyfriend, but it was clear this guy was slowly steering away from the rules.
I couldn't resist prodding the tag. “Does this not bother you?”
Roman shrugged, pulling his legs to his chest. “Not really. I like the smell of it.”
“Smell?”
Rowan held out a hand with a small smile, catching cherry blossom on his palm. “Yeah. Doesn't it smell good?”
He was talking about the cherry blossom.
Something about the way he immediately dismissed the tag put a sour taste in my mouth.
“No, the thing sticking out of your head,” I said with a nervous laugh.
Roman blinked, his lips breaking out into a smile. “I'm glad we both like it.”
Maybe he wasn't allowed to acknowledge the tag.
Ignoring my twisting gut, I focused on the sunset instead, blurred reds and oranges streaked across a twilight sky.
It was slowly starting to sink in that Roman was not mine.
“I love you,” he said in a low murmur.
Something warm dampened the sleeve of my shirt.
Was he crying?
For a moment, my words were tangled in my throat.
“I think I love you too.” I said, my cheeks heating up.
“Mm.” he sighed, and I was trying to ignore how wet my sleeve was getting. “I told you I would come back,” he snuggled into my shoulder, and that wetness was dripping down the bare skin of my arm. When he nestled his face in my neck, I smelled it, a tangy, metallic scent tickling the back of my nose.
Blood.
Twisting my head, my right sleeve was drenched with startling red.
My neck felt sticky, blood smearing my shoulder blade.
Roman was bleeding. I thought it was a nosebleed when I glimpsed his nose and lips and chin dripping red, but it was leaking from his ears too, rivulets of blood seeping from him, while the guy himself didn't move, still smiling, his head leaning on my shoulder. When my body remembered how to move, I jerked away with a shriek, but Roman stayed in the same position, his head tilted.
“I came back for you,” a wide smile spread across his lips, blood dribbling down his chin. “And our baby.”
I didn't respond, pulling out my phone to call an ambulance.
“Are you happy I came back?” he whispered. I was transfixed by the blood running down his face. His head jolted suddenly, his smile dampening, before curving into a frown. The man's eyes were suddenly so sad, wandering, like he was searching for something.
Someone.
“I changed my m-mind,” Roman’s head jerked again, drool slipping down his chin. “I w-want to be a dad, Sara.”
Roman’s words jolted something inside me, a shiver slipping down my spine.
I dropped my phone, using my sleeves to stop the bleeding. Grabbing his face, I forced him to look at me. “Hey. Look at me.” The bleeding was letting up a little. But it was his eyes that held me in a trance. I fell in love with beautiful, almost unnatural brown. What I was seeing was green, a smear of lime slowly seeping into that tawny oblivion.
“Roman.” I said, louder. “Who is Sara?”
His expression crumpled, like he was crying, a whole new personality taking over.
But he wasn't looking at me.
Roman was looking right through me.
“I love you,” his voice broke, “But I also love him. I'm not ready for a baby! I'm twenty three! What twenty three year old wants to settle down with a little brat?” His eyes widened, expression softening. “I didn't…I didn't mean that.”
I was talking to a memory.
“I love both of you. And I want to… I want to make a family with both of you,” he shook his head. “But not now, Sara.”
Sara.
There was that name again.
“Sara.” I said. “Can you tell me who that is?”
The man's gaze snapped to me. “Sara,” he whispered. “She's my girl…” his head jerked again, this time violently.
“Girl… friend?”
Roman frowned. “She's my girlfriend,” he mumbled. “I was going to go… back. But I… I couldn't… find her…”
His hands dropped limply to his sides.
“I looked for her. But they… grabbed me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “They took me… away.”
When his whole body shuddered, eyes rolling back, I couldn't help myself, reaching forward with trembling hands and plucking the piece of plastic from his temple. It was like pulling a tag out of a toy. But it kept going, a long plastic thing feeding directly into his head.
It was like pulling a tag out of a toy.
This thing was a long coil of wire stained red, a metallic plate attached to the end.
Biting back a shriek, I dropped the tag, my fingers slick crimson.
This thing was embedded, fed, directly into this guy’s head.
Like a switch had been pulled, Roman’s arms fell to his sides. “Sara.” he said through a mouthful of red. “She's my… she's m-my…” he trailed off and blinked slowly. His gaze found my hand, where I was gingerly stroking his temple. Roman jumped up suddenly, his eyes frenzied, awake, like a startled animal. “What the fuck?” he shuffled away like I was contagious, diving to unsteady feet.
So, this was Roman.
“Who are you?” he swiped at his bloody chin. “Where's Sara?”
When I couldn't reply, his fingers gingerly stroked at his right temple.
“Fuck.” Roman let out a sharp breath. “You actually got that thing out.”
I was shaking, still holding it between my fingers.
This thing was warm, thrumming, like it was alive.
“And what is it?” I managed to get out. “That thing was inside your head!”
Roman curled his lip, his gaze wandering the park.
“Where's the exit?”
“What?!”
He grabbed me, harshly this time, pulling me to my feet. I was still trying to mentally register the tag feeding into his brain. This guy was not the man I hired, violently pulling me to his side when I could barely stand. His eyes were fierce, hollow, a whole other person taking over him. He was the shadow that had been pushed down, a suppressed memory who was awake.
And pissed.
“We need to get out of here right fucking now,” he said in a hiss. His fingernails stabbing into my skin hurt, but the pain was enough to snap me into fruition.
“That app.” I said. “What is it?”
Roman’s eyes darkened. “It's a factory,” he tightened his grip around my wrist.
“Can you help me find my girlfriend? I'll tell you everything, but we need–”
“Miss Doe, am I correct?”
The sudden voice caught me off guard.
Roman looked confused, his gaze flicking behind me.
Fuck. His lips formed the word and he stumbled back, his hand slipping from mine. Behind us, an outline of a woman slowly bled into the shadows.
“You.” Roman’s lips parted in a silent cry. He shook his head, clawing at his hair. The guy let out a spluttered sob, a thin line of blood escaping his nose.
“You're the bitch who did this to me.”
The outline inclined her head. “I know you have the memory of a goldfish, dear boy, but if I remember correctly, you were recommended to us. I even have your consent if you require proof.”
His eyes were wide. Terrified.
“You make us sign it! We don't have a fucking choice!”
“That's a rule break. Boyfriend's do not swear, unless it part of a joke and has been given full content by our clients.”
The woman appeared, no longer a disembodied voice, basking in the shadow of the setting sun, rich red hair and matching heels. She was my age or a little older. Sculpted in a black suit, this woman was oozing sophistication.
She turned to me with a bright smile.
“Hello Jane! My name is Lily. I'm a customer adviser at Hire a Boyfriend. I am so sorry for the malfunction!”
Tilting her head, Lily’s lips formed a frown.
“As we explained in our terms and conditions, the Boyfriend™️ does not usually act like this unless considered faulty. However, it is expected from a discounted model like Roman. He is scheduled to be refurbished in a week, so we'll happily take him off your hands.”
“No.” Roman whimpered. His gaze flashed to me. “Please… help me.”
His head jolted once again, and he dropped to his knees.
“That is also a rule break,” Lily said. “You never directly tell clients what to do.”
Roman’s body shook, his head jerking left to right.
“Get away from me.”
“You are broken, Roman. Allow me to fix you.”
His eyes filled with tears. “Broken?”
“That's right. Broken.”
“Sara.” Roman swiped blood from his nose. “Is she okay? Is she… s-safe?”
The woman regarded him with a pitiful smile.
“I'm sorry, who?”
Roman blinked. “Sara.” his expression crumpled. “She's my…she's m-m-my–”
Lily stepped towards him, and he shrunk back.
The sound of her heels frightened him, like he was used to them.
Used to her looming over him, a satisfied smile on her face.
“She's your what? Come on, speak up!”
He let out a raw cry, clawing at his hair.
“I don't know! I d-don't know! I…”
“Come quietly, and I will rethink my decision to convert Sara’s child when once of age,” Lily said. “The contract was clear. Section five, clause three. Hire a Boyfriend are automatically entitled to a Boyfriend’s offspring.”
Roman broke down, his head dropping into his lap.
“I'll go w-with you.” somehow, his eyes were glitching, unnatural blue light igniting around his iris. “I'll g-g-go.”
More blood, this time running thick down his face.
Lily’s lips split into a grin. “I'm sorry Roman, who is Sara again?”
He scrunched up his face, fighting to keep his mind. “I… d-d-don't know.”
I hated myself for turning away, after listening to him sobbing, begging for his unborn child to be safe, his mind torn from him right in front of me. I felt sick to my stomach. Lily was revelling in every second. Was this the reality of Hire a Boyfriend? What about Cam?
Who was behind his original face?
I should have done something. I stepped forward to grasp him and pull him back. When my hands were on his shoulders, the light fizzled from Roman’s eyes, sparks flickering out.
Like a puppet, he flopped to the ground.
In a panic, I tried to pull him to his feet, before I was violently shoved back.
The redhead nodded to me. “I apologise again for the malfunction, Jane,” she told me, scooping him into her arms.
He looked so vulnerable, a fully grown man somehow reduced to a living toy.
Lily bid me goodbye, promising me discount on my next Boyfriend™️.
I thought about that day a lot. I went to the cops with a report, only for them to tell me Hire a Boyfriend did not exist.
Apparently, I had been watching too many movies.
Two months passed by, and Roman never left my mind.
In an attempt to forget about him and delude myself into believing I was suffering a psychotic break, I lost myself in podcasts. Anything I could find, I listened to endless hours, blocking out thoughts drowning me.
Yesterday, I was making my way back home from class when I walked into a dishevelled looking girl with an armful of missing posters. I already knew who she was, and who was on the poster.
I was trying to avoid her, but this girl was following me. I could sense her steps getting closer, her breath on the back of my neck. Grief enveloped her in a sickly green aura, pale cheeks and straw-like hair stuck under her hooded sweatshirt. This time, the girl situated herself in front of me, red rimmed eyes begging me to stop walking.
I did, coming to an abrupt stop, my gaze immediately flicking to a very familiar face on the missing poster.
Unlike Roman, my Boyfriend™️, this man did have flaws.
Crooked teeth flashing a grin and an oddly shaped nose. He was stockier and had the worst fashion sense imaginable, clad in socks and sandles. This time, though, the boy had a different name.
Jun.
The photo was always different, what I guessed was a collection from her Instagram. This one was particularly heart wrenching. Roman’s eyes were bright and happy, no sign of that hollow cavern I found myself lost inside. The two of them were standing in front of a mirror, his arms wrapped around her.
Whatever happened to him after he was taken had stripped Jun away.
The girl shoved the poster in my face.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
JUN LOCKE.
24.
LAST SEEN WEARING A PLAID SHIRT AND JEANS, OUTSIDE CAMPUS.
I didn't look at the face that had been perfected and moulded into the ideal boyfriend.
Into Roman.
I stared at the girl’s bulging pregnant belly instead.
Sara was getting bigger.
“Please,” She whispered, her voice a hoarse cry, one hand cradling her stomach. “Have you seen my boyfriend?”
It was always a no.
Swallowing hard, I shook my head.
Sara didn't even acknowledge my answer. She turned and walked away.
“Wait.” her name tangled in my mouth.
I felt like I was floating, my body moving for me. Stumbling after Sara, I lightly touched her arm and she twisted around, her eyes igniting with hope.
Opening my mouth, I choked on my words.
I have seen your boyfriend.
“Jane Doe! Oh my God, I haven't seen you in… years, is it? How are you doing?”
Sara’s half lidded eyes flicked to a familiar face behind me.
Lily.
This time, the woman strutted in a stylish red dress.
Her smile was too wide, too many teeth.
“Jane, can we talk?” she asked, “Woman to woman.”
Lily nodded at Sara’s belly. “Congratulations!” she winked. “I hope it's a boy!”
I had no choice, letting her pull me away from Sara.
Lily’s grasp on my arm was polite. She dragged me off campus. I thought she was going to throw me into a truck, before the redhead came to a stop.
I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened.
“It is quite painful, you know,” she said casually.
When I frowned at her, the woman prodded at her own temple. “The Neurowire is fed directly into the brain to ensure complete compliance with our Boyfriend's.” her gaze was across the road, and when I followed her eye, my heart almost jumped out of my throat.
Roman.
They had cut his hair. He was a sandy blonde now.
His colour scheme was deep blue, sporting a short sleeved shirt and jeans.
He was laughing, hand in hand with another girl.
“I'm only going to say this once, Jane, because you are a little too curious.”
I watched Roman reach for the girl’s hand. They must have changed his personality. Now he was smiling and playful, the two of them laughing. But there was a shy side to him, his cheeks blossoming red, fingers slipping through her fingers and entangling them.
“There are certain men in our society who are born to be Boyfriend's and Husbands.” Lily spoke up, and I realized she didn't just work for them.
She was Hire a Boyfriend.
“At Hire a Boyfriend, we believe everyone should have a significant other they can be with. Even if it's for an hour or two every day.” she turned to Roman, who was wrapping his arms around the girl, laughing into her hair.
The two of them seemed too close. I had a feeling this wasn't their first date.
Lily followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing. “Do you really think a man like that belongs with someone like Sara? No, sweetie. As you can see, Roman is currently being hired by Lula, our richest client, a socialite who is considering buying him as a full time Husband! Now, she is perfect for him.”
The redhead turned to me, lightly brushing my hair out of my face, the tips of her fingers tiptoeing across my temple. She had a smile I couldn't make sense of. “I have missed you, Jane. If only dear Ben didn't get his own way.”
She tried to touch me again, and I smacked her hand away.
I caught a hint of hurt in her eyes, before she sighed, grasping my chin with manicured nails and forcing me to look directly at her. “Sara is a woman who's boyfriend left her. She does not need any more stress for our baby.”
Dropping her hand, Lily’s tone hardened. “If you do not walk away and forget us, I will happily contract dear Sara into the Hire a Girlfriend program. And trust me, you of all people should know that it will be a very uncomfortable time for her. Would you like to know the conversion process? Well, allow me to explain–”
“Stop.”
My legs were close to giving way.
“I won't say anything.”
The bitch enjoyed my silence, my panicking thoughts trying to understand what she was saying. “Or we could make her a wife! There are a lot of lonely men looking for the perfect wife! Look at her. A young woman in her early twenties. Perfectly healthy and beautiful. And she's pregnant, so that's a bonus! Sara Mcintire is textbook girl next door. Exactly what we look for.”
Shaking my head, I was trembling, sweat trickling down my neck.
Lily's nails dug into my skin. “Am I clear, Jane? Or do you want me to say it again?” her lips grazed my ear, a shiver skittering down my spine, bugs filling my mouth. “Pain is beauty, after all, and we aim to create perfect Boyfriend's. I'll leave the process to your imagination.”
Stepping back, I nodded, swallowing a bout of vomit.
“Good.” she pivoted on her heel. “Keep walking and you will never see me again. Neither will pretty little Sara.”
Her voice followed me home.
“By the way, it was nice to see you again! Say hello to your boyfriend for me, all right?”
I don't have a boyfriend.
When I returned home, I felt like I was stepping inside a different apartment.
Everything seemed just like how I left it but the house was too… clean.
Too empty.
Standing in front of my bedroom mirror, I pulled out my ponytail, my fingers lightly prodding at my temple.
What did she call me again?
Jane Doe.
Maybe I was seeing things, but I'm terrified.
There it was.
How had I never seen it before?
With shaky fingers, I prodded the tiny plastic tag sticking out of me.
When I pulled it out of Roman, he knew who he was.
Who Sara was, and his unborn child.
Am/was I like Roman?
Am I a Hire a Girlfriend?
And if I pull this thing out, who was I before?
Edit: I've found hundreds of blood stained and fresh tags in my bedroom drawer. Who is changing them?
I live alone, but why does my apartment feel so empty?
Please help me. I think I'm going crazy.

I (34M) am in a nearly 7-year relationship with my (27F) girlfriend. For the vast majority of the nearly 7 years we’ve been together – I’ve felt satisfied and loved. I felt she was the one I was going to marry and start a family with.
However whenever I raise the topic of potentially getting married – she shuts down and manages to change the topic to something else. She’ll say things along the lines of “what difference does being married make? We’re common-law as it is, and I only want to get married once.”
Over the last couple years I’ve begun feel I am becoming a shell of who I was when my girlfriend and I met. When we met I would dress well, and put effort into my appearance. I would take us on small trips to the big city for a weekend. Go to a show. Over the years she’d make comments about my “overdressing” and I find myself no longer ever dressing in the way I would when we met. I now dress in a very… dad fashion.
I feel like I’ve compromised so much of myself to fit into the mold she would like me to fit into – but when I do change to meet her wants, it’s as if it’s not enough for her.
On the one hand she’ll accuse me of not contributing enough around the house, or planning vacations – yet when I do these things – it’s not to her standard and she’ll exhale and make back-handed comments at me. I’ve heard the “you always… xyz” from her quite often.
I feel no matter what I do it doesn’t meet whatever standard she has. Be that housework, grocery purchases, laundry – you name it. I feel scared to do anything for fear of her negative comment on whatever it is. I don’t fold the laundry well enough, I spent too much on something at the grocery store, I use too many paper towels when cleaning. I feel all these chipping away at me to the point I find I no longer try to do much. Why bother when it’ll be criticized no matter what?
My girlfriend had told me a couple times that I am too predictable (I took this as “you’re getting too boring”) – so I went ahead and planned an impromptu night-out as I would do earlier in our relationship. Rather than like it – she commented that I didn’t plan it very well given the traffic during rush hour to get to where we were going.
If I’m honest with myself I feel emasculated in my own home. I know the age-old joke that the woman in any relationship runs the show – however I feel both useless and cowardly at the same time so often around her. Happy wife, miserable husband feels like it fits with us – only we’re not married.
The question you’re asking yourself reading this is – have you told her these feelings?
The answer is yes.
We’ve had a number of conversations around this. I’ve told her I feel nervous to express myself around her for fear of her reaction. I’ve told her that I feel it’s becoming harder and harder for me to gauge her reaction to anything.
I know I’m not feeling great about our relationship given I’m writing this on Reddit. And I know I’m not feeling great about our relationship given I find myself looking at other women more and more.
I find myself not shutting down flirting with women all of the sudden, and I went on a sudo-first date with someone from my office the other day. After it, I told this girl I didn’t feel the spark – so I would avoid taking it any further because hey – I’m in a relationship.
The question I’m asking now is whether I should keep going and try to salvage our relationship or not.
Deep down I think I need to break it off. I wouldn’t recognize myself today if I were to leap forward in time from 7 years ago.
I no longer have the confidence I did then in nearly every aspect of my life, and much of that comes down to being beat down in my relationship. If I feel like this after 7 years – I can’t imagine what it’ll feel like in another 10, 20 or 30 years.
I want to know if others who may have felt this way in a relationship have worked-on and saved their relationship?