Getting a bath while on adderall

I'm starting to take my ADHD meds daily because I was told it would improve my daily functioning, but the side effects make it hard to do that. I've tried Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall specifically on days when I really needed to focus. Now I'm on Vyvanse 30mg and trying to take it daily to improve cognitive functioning and get things done.
Does anyone else "feel like a zombie" on the meds? Feeling more anti-social, like you wouldn't want to go to a social gathering while on your meds? When I'm on the meds, I get this focus intensity (maybe too much?), eyes feel like they are heavier, excessive jaw clenching, loss of appetite (need to force myself and remember to eat). I feel like it changes my personality and how I interact with others, like I'm more serious. I'm able to focus and get things done when I'm on the meds, but I don't like the way I feel if I'm to take it every day. It's almost like I want to hit the switch and be on the meds when I need to focus, and then switch it off when I want to be social or even just around my wife, who says she feels I'm different when I'm on the meds.
What do you think? Does this happen to anyone else? Any tips?
Thanks!

I don’t mean this in a rude way, but from my experience it’s the hard truth.
My husband and I have been married for almost 8 years. He was never really super active husband/dad but when we first got married/had a baby I didn’t work so I was happy to take on the household chores. Then I got a job, my household chores/parental duties didn’t change. I just had more on my plate. We had another baby and I went back to school to finish my degree, again didn’t get extra help I just had more on my plate. He wasn’t great to me, but he worked paid bills and he was there at least. I thought I couldn’t possibly be a single mom. The more I asked for help the more we argued… then I just stopped asking and started doing everything on my own. All the cooking, cleaning, paying half the bills but making sure all the bills were actually paid, taking kids to school, sports, scheduling/taking them doctodentist visits, buying gifts for his whole family on special occasions, laundry, playing with the kids, bathing them, putting them to bed.. all. alone. (While both working and going to school full time)
Well now my husband is gone, I asked him to leave and he’s staying with a friend and he claims to be so sad about it. He asked me if the kids miss him and says he prays that I miss him so he can come back. But honestly, I don’t miss him because even when he was home her was never actually “here” anyway. The kids barely notice he’s gone, I’m sure they will eventually, but for right now nothing has really changed in any of our lives except his.
He taught me how to do it all alone while he stood there and watched. Had I been used to having help I probably would’ve called him home by now, but it just doesn’t feel different when he’s gone. Except now, I don’t have to beg someone for help or walk around upset because he’s in the garage, drinking beer and watching tv while I’m in the house doing both of our jobs.
If you love your spouse, just be there for them. Take on the responsibilities you know you should. Care about their feelings more than yours. And if you really can’t do that then just let them go.

Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

We've been together with my girlfriend for more than a year now and over the past few months it has become apparent that she is a very insecure type. There are reasons behind her low-self-esteem and its development. According to my girlfriend in a previous relationship she wasn't treated with respect, didn't feel important and didn't receive adequate love. She was cheated on at least once which led to her contracting a sexually transmitted disease on one occasion. Additionally comments were made about her physical attributes by her ex bf that she wasn’t feminine enough which ultimately led her to undergo plastic surgery.
I'll try to summarize some of the important events that have stemmed from her jealousy, insecurity, low self-esteem and overall, the thoughts swirling around these incidents.
Events
1.) After being together for half a year one evening we slept at my place and before going to bed we had dinner that I cooked. She noticed a long, light-colored, blondish piece of hair in my bed. When she asked whose it could be I calmly, jokingly said, "I don't know, probably sat on it somewhere." It seemed like her world collapsed and she didn't believe me. I explained to her that I work in a 500-person office, I attend university with thousands of people and I have three sisters - one of whom has the exact hair color she found - so there could be plenty of possibilities. I live in a small studio apartment where I throw washed clothes on the bed and hang them on a drying rack next to it.
2.) Three months later laying on the bed I was scrolling through my phone while she was behind me seemingly watching TV. The next day she questioned me via a voice message about who I was chatting with on Instagram. She saw what seemed like a new conversation, you know the kind where you still see the other person's profile picture in large size. I looked back at my chat history and I had such a chat with a male friend with whom I played music together in a bar. She told me it's a lie and she distinctly remembers that I was chatting with a girl, meaning I can't consider her crazy or hallucinating in this case. If I were to show her that there was no conversation with another girl, it's because I deleted it – she said.
3.) Two months later while I was cooking dinner she suddenly started crying from three meters away in my bed. It turned out she noticed that there were fewer condoms on the shelf than before and she saw it, then concluded that I must be cheating on her. As additional information it's worth noting that when we had been together for three months she started taking birth control pills, so only one condom from the pack had been used. The rest remained on my shelf, but I noticed they would expire sooner or later, so I gave some away for friends.
4.) A few weeks later it was my friend's (Tom) birthday. Four of us guys planned to go out for the night as I was invited to this scenario. On the day of the event Tom was chatting to a yet uninvited friend of his (Jake), who mentioned that they (Jake + his GF) were planning to go to the same venue, so he (Tom) invited them as well last minute to join four of us, who eventually brought his girlfriend as well. I didn't really enjoy the party, I sat in a chair, had a few drinks, then looked at vinyl records online and followed three old acquaintances on Instagram from the suggestions the social media platform gave me. One of them was a girl. At the club, I met a former female colleague, with whom I used to work in a shopping mall during college, so we exchanged a few words at the party, and since we weren't moving together at the party anymore, I said goodbye and wishing all the best to her on Instagram before I went home. She replied the same, to which I didn't respond at all. She got mad for days and the argument here was:

• why could that friend's girlfriend come, while she (gf) wasn’t invited.
• one morning she saw the conversation in the previous messages with my former colleague in the bottom of the chat history, whom I bumped into and exchanged a few words with at the party.
• it turned out she has an application that monitors my Instagram profile and saw that I followed that girl acquaintance. I agree that it was stupid and drinking alcohol is not an excuse.

5.) A few weeks later, I planned for us to go hiking over Easter Saturday. I got sick a week before, then the symptoms came out on her two days late. Since we got sick we didn't talk about the hiking trip that week. On Saturday afternoon, I wasn't feeling well yet, but I pulled myself together and went to visit my mother for lunch and almost postponed sleeping together with my gf that day so I could rest for the next day and have the strength to go to my grandparents in the countryside for lunch as well. She didn't want to come with me to any of the family events, which is not a problem at all, because it’s time consuming, she was sick as well and she usually comes to these events. On Sunday morning before I went to my grandparents, she asked what the plan was for Monday. I had arranged a beach day with my friends for that day 2-3 weeks earlier, and it seemed likely that I would recover by then. She was completely shattered and started crying, saying there was no point in this relationship like this. I make plans with everyone except her, even though we meet three, four, or five times every week, while with my friends and family it's once a month or even less.
6.) The last incident was a few days ago when I bought delayed ejaculation gel, which she noticed and got veeery angry that I didn't tell her right away. I mentioned to her several times before that it would be nice to have a gel sometime in the future, so she can have orgasm more often in case I’m tired, mentally stressed from work and not in the mood. She also noted that since my friend's birthday I always take my phone with me to the restroom and for bathing. She bet it’s because of my former colleague I met and she finds it suspicious that I'm being secretive. Indeed, often the phone is with me and mostly in my pocket. She also pointed out that she thinks I don't use my phone in front of her as often anymore and this is surely deliberate. To be honest, since she imagined that I might be chatting with someone out of thin air, I wouldn't want to give any further opportunities for such nonsense. In summary, there hasn't been any effort on my part to deliberately use my phone less in her presence.
Extra information
+1.) Since the first and fourth event she started seeing a psychologist twice, but after the second run’s fifth occasion she decided it wouldn't help her and it's just a waste of money. We agreed that she needs to figure it out through reading books and maybe listening to podcasts about anxiety and I’ll do my best to assure that she is the most awesome and prettiest girl for me. After that no effort was made for months about this topic by her, so no books and no podcasts. A week ago we had an argument and she subscribed for an audiobook provider, but that’s it.
+2.) One morning, after we woke up she told me about her dream. She dreamt that I have two girlfriends besides her.
+3.) Her mother is also an extremely insecure woman. She covered her partner's shop window so that no other woman could see inside because she became jealous. She asked my girlfriend to call her partner from an unknown number and threaten him to confess that he cheated on her etc.
My thoughts
Is there a way for such a person to change? I fear that it would intensify later in case we move together or something. Perhaps I need to figure this out for myself, but I'm curious about others opinions as well.
We have a lot in common, but I just have the feeling that it might be a ticking bomb and I waste my time as getting closer to my thirties. I had to watch through how my entrepreneur father's life was destroyed by my mother (never had a job) once she felt existentially stable purely from the wealth my Father generated and took more 70% of it.

(TW!)
i was always scared of living alone, so when it was time for me to move out i only looked into offers saying that theyre looking for a roommate. the first few places were either in a junkie neighborhood or too far from work. i couldnt find a good place for months, until i recieved a call from a man saying hes been thinking about having a roommate and his friend mentioned that i was looking for one. it was a bit weird that a friend mentioned my name and apparently gave him my number, but i was desperate, so i went. the place was in perfect distance from work, the neighborhood was nice, the appartment was really clean, i couldnt even notice any dust on the furniture, the man was sweet - so i agreed, becuase i had no other choice.
the first couple of weeks were going really smooth, we talked and got to know eachother, he cooked dinner when i came home late from work. he loved to talk and appreciated that i listened to him. it felt like we really bonded, i was happy with the way things were turning out. however, with time he stopped talking so much, got angry very easily, either came home late or didnt even come out of his room. i tried talking to him, ask if everything is alright, but it was no use. i didnt really know what to think, so i just let it go, thinking he needed space.
when i was a kid i used to get strong nosebleeds when i was stressed, and recently they came back due to stress at work. whenever some blood dripped on the floor, he got really mad and asked me to clean it right away and use bleach afterwards, because he cannot stand it. i didnt understand why, but i didnt really want to know. however, one night he got so mad because the blood stained a pillow, that he throw a plate on the ground, screaming that he cant look at the blood and handed me bleach saying i have to clean it up right away. i was so shook, that the next day i decided to go leave and stay at my parents for a while. i didnt hear anything from him, since that night.
a couple days later i drove back to the appartment. to my surprise the door wasnt locked. i walked inside and heard the water running in the bathroom. i figured he was just taking a bath. when i was walking to my room, i saw a few drops of blood on the floor. i checked my nose but it wasnt me.
it was strange, it couldnt be him, he wouldnt leave blood on the floor, without cleaning it. i went to my room and waited for him to leave the bathroom. the water wouldnt stop running, and almost and hour passed by. i got worried and knocked on the door asking if hes alright. no response. i started banging on the door and screamimg but still, nothing. i didnt know what to do, the drops of blood were leading to the bathroom and the water wouldnt stop running. my head was spinning. i decided to break down the door. after a few kicks it finally broke. the light was off, i didnt see much, i walked in and steppped on water. it icked me and i switched the light on. it wasnt water, it was blood. my socks were drenched in blood. i didnt know what was happened.
the bathtub curtain was completely closed and i was terrified to open it. my shaky hands finally opened the curtain. it was what i i was afraid of. my roommate, in the bathtub, filled with water and blood, his hands were cut that i could see his veins. i slowly backed up and stood in place for what felt like hours. then i rushed to the kitchen to call the ambulance but i couldnt find the phone. the only thing left on the counter was a note.
“its already too late. i left a few bottles of bleach in the cabinet. please clean the floors, you know i cant stand it.”

My wife and I have been together for 6 years. She says that we don't spend enough time together and that I'm not attentive enough. She thinks I don't care all while telling me on a daily basis that she hates me because of it.
Here's what she expects, per the text she sent me 15 minutes ago:
(We both get home around 5:00 PM after work)
Sit with her while she cooks dinner
Eat with her (nothing wrong with this, I enjoy it.)
After eating, sit with her and watch a show.
Then grab her some clothes and towels and take them to the batheoom
Sit with her while she takes a bath.
After, sit with her in the bed till she's ready to go to sleep.
By this time it's about 9:30 or 10:00 PM. I still have things to do. This doesn't include cleaning, taking care of the dogs or any of the numerous things I have to do personally every day.
I go to bed at 12PM - 1AM every night. I wake up at 5AM.
If I can't fulfill this she loses her shit.
Just to put things in perspective. I'm working my normal job, and working with my dad to build his business at the same time. Good money and more is coming so I'm doing everything I can to make it. I work 6 days a week. She is pregnant and I'm doing everything I can to please her, provide for her and a future for my child. I can't catch a break and honestly my mental health has taken a massive hit. She constantly reminds me of how terrible I am and how much she hates me.
Idk what to do. I love her though. Very much so.
This is the last text she sent me:
"no, you've been shitty and at this point I don't think your capable of being any better."
How am I supposed to remedy this? She's not listening to me at all. It doesn't matter what I say, she's right and I'm wrong. How do I fix this issue?
TL;DR
Wife has a todo list 10 miles long, it's driving me nuts.

I recently had another yeast infection the day after I got drunk and it was during the pill-free week so I guess both contributed to the infection.
While I thought my inflamed and swollen labia minora was temporary and due to my usual allergic/intolerant reaction to alcohol, later at night I discovered brown/red coloured thick discharge and realized what was up. Last one was 3 months ago and back then my Gynae had told me to use Candid soap (clotrimazole 1%) 4 times a day and Candid cream (clotrimazole 1%) once a day. Back then I didn't know why despite my itraconazole treatment, the labia minora kept getting worse and worse. And everytime i used the soap after once, it stung like hell and there were bubbly scales and crack and shit on the surface like a raw open sore. Washing for the 4th time in the day had me screeching.
This time as well it was going down the same path and the pain and sore kept worsening. Yesterday was the 4th day of treatment and I had used the soap, and immediately it burned, and like a bulb it finally hit me I need to stop lathering my labia in that soap. I used Vaseline afterwards, it helped with the dryness for a bit but there wasn't much improvement to the inflammation. Got a painkiller in the evening, numbed the pain for a while but swelling was still there well and good.
I used Calendula ointment at night (only externally) after a bit of research, and this morning, it felt quite better, no excruciating pain as before just itchy but still swollen and inflammed. A few hours later, the swelling reduced a lot and the itchiness was gone mostly! I applied again after bath, and it has started feeling a lot more natural if I avoid rubbing the area or anything. The pain has subsided astronomically. I can spread my lips without it feeling raw or the feel of being split in half lol. It's like the better feeling of Day 2 before it got worse.
I was queasy about using Calendula down there but good god, it's provided the sort of relief nothing has! I'm so glad I tried it. Now I know how to manage future rawness or sores from YI. I have a feeling it might get better in 2 days. I'll update :)
Hope this helps! (Just use it externally)

I've been on a few trips with my bf that have been overnight to a few days long. He's also spent the night at my place. I've never seen him brush his teeth but I know he has a toothbrush and toothpaste. Besides that I didn't notice anything unusual about his hygiene until our past 2 out of town trips.
We went to visit his mom who lives a few hours away. We got there Friday evening after making the drive and then doing a few touristy things that afternoon. He didn't shower that night but I know he did before we left so I thought okay fine. Personally I'm big on not bringing outside filth to the inside. I don't wear shoes in my house and I change as soon as I get home. We had a long day Saturday, a lot of it outdoors. It was hot and I know we both sweat a fair amount. I showered that evening but again he didn't. Sunday while I was doing my hair and makeup he did finally take a shower.
We took another trip to visit my mom who lives a few hours away. Again we got there Friday and I showered that evening but he didn't. I know he did before we left so fine. Saturday we were out and about all day and I took a shower when we got back but again he didn't. Sunday and no shower still. We ate breakfast together, hung out a bit, and then left.
My mom lives in a small one bed one bath apartment so it was obvious anytime someone was using the bathroom. I knew she'd notice because she and my sister pay attention to that sorta stuff all the time. My mom asked me later what was up with him not showering the whole time we were there.
I'm not exactly sure how to bring it up to him because besides the mental turn off of not wanting him to bring the fifth of the day into the same bed I'm in, he actually doesn't smell. I'm saying this as someone who was repulsed by the various smells of my previous relationship. He somehow legitimately doesn't have bad breath or any detectable body odor. I've smelled him after work where he basically sweats all day so I know he can smell bad. He just doesn't seem to on non work days.
I wouldn't know how to bring it up or if it's worth bringing up because I can't even say that he smells and it's a turn off or whatever. I also can't say a whole lot because honestly I only brush my teeth in the morning. We don't live together so it's not like he smells awful and I'm nose blind. I also understand not wanting to shower every day. I literally didn't this past Sunday and Monday because I was just lazy. Granted I was home alone and not around anyone but I also don't wash my hair for awhile unless I have plans because I have oily root issues and everything I've read said washing it too often makes it worse.
So is this an issue?

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Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 13, 2160
The irritability coursing through my psyche was palpable. Every sound was dialed up to eleven, stabbing at the core of my sensory processing. Constant awareness grated on me after days without sleep, never having any break from the stream of information I needed to digest. There was no way to shut the world off and reset, and no reprieve from the unsettling reality of my physical experience. I was curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on like this.
Virnt scuttled over to me in the spaceship, jostling my shoulder. “Elias? Would you like to turn back from this mission?”
I remembered how I’d spent most of the trip, standing under the water in the shower. There was a special shampoo they’d provided for synthetic hair, like a wig. I held out my phony hand and emptied most of the bottle’s worth of goop, zoning out; I was trying to soak in the distant sensation of liquid running down my spine. Once upon a time, this had been the most relaxing time of my day—letting muscle tension fade away and cleansing grimy skin oils. Now, I knew neither of those two still existed in my day-to-day life to assuage.
Did it even matter to slap soap on some metal frame? There were no consequences of letting hygiene go by the wayside. I didn’t sweat in order to start to reek, and I couldn’t get skin conditions or be affected by bacteria. It could be that I was bathing out of habit, clinging to my old lifestyle, that I kept going to wash up. Perhaps the shower had become my favorite haunt because I felt disgusting in this body. Everything was a reminder that I was an inhuman scrap pile, and it was wearing on my sanity. It wasn’t like anyone related to what I was going through.
I used to spend so much time fussing over making my suits look crisp and perfect—immaculate ties, UN pins adjusted just right. The heavy jackets would trap my body heat in the summer; now, it no longer had that effect. I could bundle up as much as I wanted in 40 degree Celsius heat, unless there was some limit that would fry my circuits. Shit, I might not need a spacesuit in the vacuum of space—I couldn’t freeze or suffocate, after all. Being left out in the void for all eternity didn’t sound that much different from my present experience.
I hate what I’ve become. I hate what they’ve done to me; all I do is think, and every part of my new self lives in the uncanny valley. There’s nothing positive. Maybe it’s time to call it…death was better than this. I can’t bear another day of this hell.
“Hey, stay with me! Distractibility, depression, being unable to maintain concentration—these are natural consequences of sleep deprivation. I’m surprised it carries over without a physical mechanism to grow tired…but I’m working on a sleep suite, I promise,” Virnt said, glossy eyes staring at me.
I groaned. “I’m not tired, but it’s just nonstop. I…I’m having trouble remembering what I read.”
“Here, I’m going to try a temporary fix. You look like you need it. I don’t want you to suffer; just turning you off and on isn’t the same. I’m going to emulate GABA, uh, shut off your optic sensors, decrease the activity in your prefrontal cortex, and simulate delta waves for an hour. We can see if it somewhat fills the need for deep sleep, okay? Relaxation, no processing: worth a shot, right?”
I nodded mutely, staying in the fetal position. I didn’t have the will to move, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up that Virnt’s plan would be any mercy. The sensation of the Tilfish tinkering with my settings was strange, as if my brain was being overridden in the moment. There was no process of falling asleep to give it the air of naturalness. Suddenly, I was blind, trapped in darkness—and a modicum of drowsiness kicked in, limiting my movement. Thoughts died down, offering much-need relief; I faintly wished I could remain in this state.
When I came to, there was a sudden influx of information as the rest mode was switched off; it was hardly a seamless waking, but I’d take it. Peace in my own head was something I’d never take for granted again. I hadn’t thought myself to be a weak-minded individual, but I hadn’t realized how much it wore on you: feeling out of place in your own body every waking second, and not trusting your senses. Brain function had been restored enough that I could get a grip on myself, and rise in my disheveled state. A peek out the window revealed we’d completed our intra-atmosphere transit to the Duerten embassy.
I rubbed my eyes on reflex, but there were no gifts from the Sandman there. “Why couldn’t you have just added everything to start with, Virnt?”
“The humans I talked to said they wouldn’t want to sleep, unless they had to! I put the most focus on your emotional matrix and your facial expressiveness, since I thought that has the highest importance of what makes you human,” the Tilfish replied.
“You could’ve made it at least optional.”
“I sent the option to your holopad for the future, to trigger this program for as long as you’d like. This is a learning process, so I’m sorry for anything that’s off. All trial and error here, but it’s only going to get better! That’s the positive.”
“There are a lot of patches needed. For starters, you’re missing two of the senses: taste and smell. In spite of that, ever since I walked past the Terra Technologies staff eating tater tots, I’ve been craving them at random intervals. I’m not hungry—I can’t consume food!”
“Predator instincts,” Virnt teased. “The Federation was right.”
“I’m serious! Why on Earth would that be a thing? I literally can’t satisfy it, so it’s almost cruel.”
“It’s psychological, Elias. I looked into it after I saw it in your transcript. When humans are under a lot of stress or otherwise feeling down, you seek dopamine from food. It’s something familiar that activated your memories, and promised emotional comfort. That’s why you have the phrase ‘comfort food.’”
“I can already see how the Federation remnants would spin that. A predator’s so-called emotions are tied to food, and stimulate appetite to fulfill their whims.”
“You seem in better spirits. To add to your improved mood, we announced the success of your memory transplant to the world. The response was overwhelmingly positive—history looked back fondly on you. You got a lot of well-wishes, and I was able to get almost all of your social media re-activated. At least, the platforms that are still active.”
“I’m…allowed to share my honest experiences?”
Virnt eased me out of the shuttle, into the sunlight; cameras were waiting, causing me to stiffen. “Of course you can. I’m not here to muzzle you, my friend. Quite the opposite, in fact: I want your experiment documented as thoroughly as possible! You’re the spokesperson for—”
I shielded my face from the reporters, who were lobbing questions. “What is this? I don’t have a prepared statement. This is an ambush.”
“Terra Technologies has a mission of transparency, and improving sapients’ quality of life through digital means. We had to announce such a monumental breakthrough, but you’re under no obligation to speak with them.”
“Good,” a warm voice chimed in from next to me, making me jump. “The poor guy’s come back from the dead, Virnt. Give him a break. He’s here to speak with the Duerten Forum and their ambassador, for some semblance of his old life.”
I turned my head, beaming as I recognized her. “Erin? Oh, sorry: that’s Secretary-General Kuemper, isn’t it? You’ve moved up in the world. The United Nations is in good hands.”
“It’s good to see you, Elias. I bawled my eyes out at your funeral. You cared so much for peace and taking the high road; there isn’t a person out there who could’ve handled first contact with more grace. You inspired me, and an entire generation of future diplomats.”
I embraced Erin, who’d once been a passionate SETI researcher giving me all of the bad news about aliens. As we flailed about in the dark to save humanity and adjust to the galaxy, finally acquiring a few friends, she’d become my Secretary of Alien Affairs. I’d trusted her to do whatever it took to stabilize our extraterrestrial relations. It was a bit of a relief to see a positive reaction from someone I knew; I wasn’t sure how my friends would take my return, but I hadn’t been expecting a welcome with open arms. It brought me solace and comfort to know about the legacy I’d left behind, and the ripple effects my tenure had on the United Nations.
It is strange to see how much she’s aged. That’ll be the reality of anyone that used to be an acquaintance of mine.
The alarm bells pinging in my head faded into the backdrop, and I forgot that the wind gusting against my face only felt like a dull push. My mind slipped away from food cravings that failed to get my mouth to water, how there was no feeling of tightness from my dress shoes, and the stillness of my non-existent diaphragm. I was simply happy to see someone I cared about and enjoyed working with, in my old life. There was safety in having a person I trusted to be on my side. My brain snapped back into diplomat mode, falling into a familiar flow of conversation. If I had nothing else, I still had my social skills—an ability to navigate various cultures.
“So the Duerten Forum agreed to meet with the two of us. They know about the Sivkit attack, but not the full threat,” I spoke aloud, after breaking away from the rather soul-affirming embrace. “I read the strategy meetings for briefing them, and I’m on-board to appeal to nostalgia; humanity saving their homeworld was after my time, but close enough to it that I could serve as a reminder. A blast from the past.”
Erin nodded, her security forming a wall between us and the cameras as we walked toward the embassy. “I always wondered what you’d think of modern Vienna, Elias. All of the aliens willing to be here on our world, and to treat us like people. Friendship used to seem like a pipe dream; we were happy if they’d allow us to exist, tolerate us to that extent. Look at us now.”
“I almost gave up hoping that they could care about us, or stand beside us at all. We couldn’t do it alone then. It’s time we remember to stand together—to rise to the occasion once more. I can’t bear the thought of anything threatening our home, or our friends. I saw enough needless death twenty-four years ago.”
“That pain is a lot more recent to you. It’s completely okay to be wrestling with grief. A billion of ours died.”
“We didn’t become the monsters they thought we were, and we pulled through. We revealed their hatred and treachery, and have chosen a future set on rectifying every right they trampled. I’ll always mourn what we lost, but I’ve never been more proud of humanity in my life.”
Kuemper patted my shoulder. “You sound like yourself, my dear old friend. It’s very good to have you back; you were much better at smiling while they spit in your face than I ever was. Let’s do what’s necessary to get the ball rolling with the Shield.”
“I’m right behind you.”
The exterior of the Duerten embassy had a distinct construction style, with metal and concrete forming the bulk of the outside structure; on Kalqua, sturdiness was at the foremost of their priorities. Winds on a normal day could ratchet up to what we’d consider a tropical storm, according to my brief review of their culture. The door was evidently heightened to facilitate foot traffic from humans, despite the exit hatches on the upper floor which seemed frequented by the avian staff. Their personnel could literally fly away during an emergent situation. I tailed Kuemper into the lobby, and noted how much of the inside’s floor was concrete as well. It was resilient and easy to clean, a perfect surface to avoid being marred by talons.
Most of the gray avians used perches instead of chairs, with several staffers working on paperwork at their desks; in private areas, some met with any humans who had business with the Duerten Forum. The lack of reaction to a predator’s approach was new to me, but a welcome change. Kuemper confidently led the way to an elevator, which had the English and German words for “Welcome to the Duerten embassy!” written above the opening. The generic Shield logo was painted on both sides of the door, and emblazoned with a representation of Kalqua. There were no buttons inside, apart from an emergency exit; a camera surveyed us, before a watching staffer summoned the car upward. I felt a jolt as we reached the top floor.
“To be visited by two Secretary-Generals: one of whom is a ghost! Let me express the Duerten Forum’s honor and delight. Not, of course, that I don’t cherish Ambassador Hannah Marston’s visits.” A silver-feathered head poked out of a door at the end of the hallway, past a spacious lounge; his beak was the precise yellow of corn. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Kuemper shuffled forward, giving me a knowing look. “Water would be lovely for me. Thank you for the warm welcome, Ambassador Korajan.”
“I second that gratitude. Enchanted to meet you. I’m sure you know, but I’m Elias Meier.” Taking a gamble that the ambassador was more than acquainted with our customs, I extended a hand. Korajan strode forward with confidence, ensnaring my palm in his wingtip. “We appreciate you taking the time to sit with us, Ambassador.”
“Just Korajan,” the avian said, feeling my artificial hand with undeniable curiosity. He finally released my grip, and waited for us to get seated. “There’s no need for formalities, especially when I’m in such esteemed company. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve come to seek your assistance in the fight against the Sivkits’ assailants. The Sapient Coalition needs allies to back us against these menaces,” Kuemper stated. “Any help we can get would make a difference.”
“I see. I heard about your unfortunate defeat in your prior engagement, but I don’t see how it involves or concerns us. The Duerten, as you well know, aren’t in the position we used to be. We’ve turned our focus inward for years, shoring up our defenses to watch out for our beloved planet. The potential benefit it might offer you is so negligible that it’s hardly worth increasing our vulnerability. The risk far outweighs the rewards for any party.”
I studied the avian, careful to avoid a direct stare. “I understand that it’s a lot to ask. However, small bits of help from across the Shield can accumulate to be a massive difference maker. We want to stop this genocidal force from getting anywhere near Kalqua; if we play our cards right, you won’t need defenses.”
“Elias—sorry, may I call you Elias?” Korajan asked, continuing after I nodded. “We’re, of course, concerned to have a predatory species with such power and intentions, outside our known terrain. They bear a striking resemblance to the Arxur, and my government does appreciate the advance warning from the SC so we can make preparations. Yet the Forum is concerned by several of your recent initiatives, which would make us doubly unwilling to back your cause.”
“Go on. What initiatives have unsettled you?” I hope he doesn’t mean me, with resurrecting dead humans; that’d hit close to home, and I don’t know how to defend it. “Perhaps we can clear up our rationale and intentions, ensuring that there are no misunderstandings.”
“I hope I’m not impolite to point it out, but my government is beginning to see a pattern in your recent connections to carnivores. The Sapient Coalition is attempting an uplift on one race, despite what we all know happened on Wriss, and has brought them into your mix while they are at war with each other. We’re also aware of these Osirs—a race you are resurrecting to live among you, despite having no idea what they’re capable of. Present company excluded, species that need meat are not trustworthy types. These Osirs are weapons: look at the fangs.”
“Anything is a weapon in the wrong hands. Respectfully, we don’t feel that it’s right to judge a species for their diet. If I’m not mistaken, your own kind were once omnivores, Korajan.”
The Duerten fluttered his wings in acknowledgement. “The Federation changed us greatly—some things for the better, others to erase our intellect. We’re an individualist species, and they tried to make us…what do you humans call it? A ‘hive mind.’ Hive minds, of course, are fiction, yet they tried to make it real. Still, sometimes when you’re changed enough, it makes it impossible to go back to how things were.”
“I of all people grasp that sentiment,” I sighed, without moving an abdominal muscle, reflecting how my life would never be the same in this state. “We believe all sapients deserve a chance at life and happiness. Equality isn’t a principle we withhold based on any factor, and we don’t change species to fit our own whims.”
“This is why we’re content with our relations as is: separate, so we’re not connected to your disputes or obligated to get involved. The Duerten will always have differences between what are considered acceptable behaviors, and our guiding principles and overarching goals.”
Kuemper tapped her fingers on her knee. “Regardless, our choices with the Bissems and Osirs will have no impact or tangible effects on the Duerten. Nor is it a reason to shy away from protecting herbivores, the mandate that led you to stand up to the Federation in the past.”
“That cost us everything. Kalqua took a beating worse than Earth did. We don’t set out to attract the ire of powerful enemies these days.”
“We saved Kalqua. We were there when you needed our help to keep your innocents safe,” I reminded him, knitting my eyebrows with earnestness. “We answer when others call for our help to stay alive; the Duerten know what drives us to answer the bell. Isn’t that worth a smidge of reciprocation?”
“If Earth, or for that matter, Leirn were under siege, we would come. However, it appears to us that you entered their territory, not the other way around.”
“Think of the type of species…no, the kind of governments that would glass worlds. The old-school Arxur Dominion. The Kolshian shadow caste when they were defied. The Krakotl extermination fleet because they hated us. That’s what we see in the Osirs, and the gluttonous killing of Sivkit civilians while refusing to speak. We can’t turn a blind eye.”
“I’m sorry, Elias. Even if I wanted to help you, I don’t have the authority. I’m expressing my government’s position, and I’ve been told the Duerten Forum isn't going to war under any circumstances. I apologize that I can’t be of more use, and regret if you might feel your time has been squandered, leaving empty-handed.”
I shared a look with Kuemper, recognizing that we had been stonewalled; there was an implication in Korajan’s last statement that the discussion on this matter was over. The Forum hadn’t given him any negotiating room, so I didn’t get the sense I could do better than asking for him to take a message. If this was the most friendly party we’d be interacting with, I wasn’t off to a good start wrangling support for an alliance. There were a few other Shield races we could try, but an endorsement from the founders might’ve gotten the whole union on board. We had to find another angle—negotiating with the Fed remnants would be impossible without the Shield as an intermediary.
“Of course we don’t feel that way. The back-and-forth was enlightening, productive communication, as much as humanity would love to stand side-by-side in this endeavor,” I offered. “We appreciate you hearing us out, and do hope you’ll pass along our rationale to the Forum, for clarity.”
“I will,” the Duerten responded. “Your words, as always, deserve to be heard and treated with respect.”
Kuemper followed my lead, rising as I stood. “Korajan, I want you to know I deeply appreciate what you said about coming to Earth’s aid should we ever fall on hard times. That stood out to me, as a reason why our cooperation is so precious and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. I do wish you the best of luck in your future engagements; my people hope you emerge victorious.”
“Thank you. Our door will always be open if you have a change of heart.”
In my mind, I had already vacated the Duerten embassy, but it was necessary to retrace my steps to depart the ambassador’s office. Aliens were much more diplomatic in rebuffing us now than in my era, which was the proper way to express disagreements between nations. It wasn’t lost on me that the differences in “behaviors” and “principles” Korajan meant were things such as hunting, omnivory, accepting carnivores, exterminators, and predator disease facilities. The Forum still clung to much of their old lifestyle; the gray avian had stated that some Federation changes were “for the better.” That was telling about how much of their ideology they’d yet to shed.
“Forgive my impertinence, but before you go, Elias…may I ask a personal inquiry? It’s not on my behalf of my government,” Korajan called, as our shoes cleared the threshold of his office.
I turned around, giving him an encouraging smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“What…what was it like? To die…to be dead?”
“It wasn’t like anything. It was a singularity of all outcomes: all I ever was, and all I ever could be, condensed to nothing. There are no words to describe emptiness and infinite rest. It’s a peace that knows no equal.”
The Duerten dipped his head. “Thank you. It gives me some…personal solace, to know…to know my daughter is resting peacefully. She died in so much pain after only a short period of remission. Ahem…if you’ll excuse me, I…”
“We’ll leave you in peace,” Kuemper replied, softness in her voice.
I folded my hands behind my back, mulling over the choked-up ambassador’s words. How could I let a few days of mental suffering defeat me, when kids suffered through such terrible diseases—never getting to reach adulthood? This program could give children like Korajan’s daughter a chance to grow up, and be a kid, free from pain. As soon as I was alone, I knew I’d be cast back into a maddening state of consciousness, with my brain struggling to stay tethered to this reality. Where I’d been ready to give up before Virnt’s quick fix, the avian’s story made me want to remain in the fight.
The Tilfish had been right: there was the potential for the technology that had brought me back to do a lot of good, and save others a great deal of heartbreak and suffering. No personal sacrifice was too great to ensure that one day, no parent would ever have to bury their child.
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Has anyone else's anxiety/panic attacks made them scared of certain places? Even in your own home? Im starting to have anxiety thinking about the fact I need to go wash my hair and how long its going to take (hair wash days are an hour long because I have psoriasis on my scalp). I can bathe real quick, get a good scrub in down while sitting at the bottom of the tub and be okay, but this requires more and im freaking myself out. It started last year when I had a panic attack in the shower..I was seeing stars, lightheaded, shakey, arms were tingling..was hard to breathe..that original episode had me worried but I kept on without fear. But these past couple of months I've had a panic attack multiple times while showering, no stars..but dizziness and everything else (its not the temp of the water, I lowered the temp drastically after my first attack thinking it was that and just stuck with it just in case). So now I dread having to wash my hair. But obviously it needs to be done.
I've also been scared to go into my kitchen and use the sink because I've had multiple attacks standing at the sink..maybe because I was overstimulated? Idk. For about a week I couldn't go near the sink, and I still haven't used the makeup brushes I bought (I was cleaning them when I had an attack).
I was just wondering if anyone else ever has these issues??

Long story short in the upcoming months I will be getting a wheelchair to aid in my chronic fatigue/pain. I can still walk, just not for very long.
My condition hasnt changed since I started working for this family, I have just been receiving more aid and treatments to stop it from getting worse. We have reached the point that medication has done all it can, and I have accepted that wheelchair is the best next step.
I am a live-in nanny, but I do not expect any changes to be needed around the house– the chair will be small enough to fit the doorways, and I have very little reason to go upstairs.
I have already been pacing myself throughout the days Ive been with her, and her needs/wants are always met. The chair will not change anything except make my disability more visible to the NPs. They know about my chronic pain, and that I sometimes wear compression gear, but I haven't built up the courage to disclose my fatigue.
I have worked out that when I'm with NK and having a bad day, we can have a simple day doing crafts at home, go to the library that is nearby, or play in the yard. On good days (which thankfully are much more common– think like 80% of the time) there is nothing stopping me from taking her on actual outings, except maybe needing a less active day afterwards.
I can still pick her up and carry her if I need to, the house isn't so big that it will be a problem. I can sit while bathing her, changing her diaper, and changing her clothes (there is a portable changing mat that goes on the floor)
If there is an emergency, I can absolutely push through the pain/inevitable flair up and run/carry her to safety. I CAN always push it, its just not in my best interest to because I will end up bedbound for a few days after.
Basically whats the best way to bring this up to the NPs? Im told that I dont have to bring it up at all, and I understand my medical history is my own business, but because I am a live in nanny its inevitable that they see the chair.

What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
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I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”
–
Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...

My 3y4m girl has been going to bed fine on her own since she was about 2yo. Recently started showing separation anxiety at bedtime and keeps wanting us to stay in her room. It’s really heartbreaking, she doesn’t really throw a huge tantrum for now but rather cries quietly and sometimes I see her continue to wipe her tears on the baby cam after we leave the room :’(
A few reasons I can think of: 1) she realized that some of her schoolmates cosleep 2) a response to new sibling arriving soon (but she’s been taking it quite well for now) 3) once in a while she may be up quite a while before her clock turns green in the morning and has to wait a long time in bed 4) suddenly developed fear of the dark??
we do spend dinner and the next hour giving her our full attention playing together before bath time and getting ready for bed already, so it’s not that we don’t have enough connection time…I can imagine this is gonna get worse when sibling arrives?
Any advice how we can help her? 😢

The internet is a strange place, inadvertently designed to bring out the best and worst in people. People can be whoever or whatever they want to be. For predators and malignant narcissists and who live in their own delusions to begin with, it's like a hunting ground. They can create whatever persona they wish, fill their victims' heads with lies and half-truths that paint them out to be someone they are not, and by the time their victim actually meets them, it's too late - they've already created an image in their mind of this perfect person the narcissist has convinced them they are, and it usually takes time before the curtain comes down, the lies fall apart, and the mask breaks away.
I'm no saint, and I've learned my own tough lessons from the internet. I grew up under not-so-great circumstances, only getting 5 years of education before I turned 18 and was largely raised by a computer screen. Along the way, I catfished a woman in her mid-20's when I was 14-16 years old. It wasn't intentional at first, I told everyone that I was in my mid-20's and I worked as a bouncer at a bar in NYC. I never meant any harm, I was just raised by a computer and spent all my time alone playing MMOs and learned quickly that if I told people how old I was, they'd stop playing with me. So a bouncer seemed like a job I could bullshit about easily enough, and I was a big dude at 6'1 260lbs so I figured I could maybe pass it off as legit if it ever got hectic.
I started playing with this woman in her 20's and her husband frequently. We became friends fast, and soon we were virtually inseparable on the game. Her marriage ended up not working out, and after they separated she told me she had feelings for me. I should've admitted I wasn't who I said I was then, but I was young and dumb and she was the only real friend I had, so I kept up the ruse. Eventually I did come clean, and she broke it off with me not long after. We stayed friends, albeit with my heart hurting pretty bad, for a few months afterwards - until she met Jack.
When she first told me about Jack, he sounded like a great catch. He had his own IT business in Canada, was a couple years older but not by much, and she was infatuated with him. Obviously I was crushed and didn't handle it well, being a practically feral teenager at the time, so not long after they started getting serious she ghosted me altogether. I was around 17 at the time, and shit started going off the rails for me. After I got out of juvie, I started drinking heavily on a near-daily basis and selling and doing drugs. This led to a lot of pathetic, inebriated, desperate attempts to contact her and apologize for how I acted.
After months of being ignored, eventually grief and regret turned to anger, and finally acceptance. When the pain passed and I came to my senses a bit, I had an epiphany and realized that if I loved her as much as I thought I did, the best thing for both of us would be to let her go. I was a high school dropout with no job, selling drugs to get by. She had 2 kids, and what kind of life could I provide for them? She made the right choice, my age and the fact I made a grown woman fall in love with a teenager not withstanding, and as bad as it hurt I realized it was selfish of me not to accept the way things were and leave her alone, so I did.
10 years or so later, I had gotten my shit together. Worked my way up from cleaning dead shit out of swimming pools, to an entry level position at an environmental consulting firm, to a Project Manager at one of the largest firms in the field in the DC area. I'd met someone, got her pregnant, and for some reason I felt a pull to contact her again. Not to rekindle an old flame, but because she had been a tremendously positive influence on my life in a time where I had few. She was the first good thing I had in my life at a time when I was sleeping on old blankets on a hard floor in an abusive home, and what I'd held onto from our time together wasn't our romantic relationship, it was the best friend I'd ever had. And something made me want to tell her that all that work she put into getting my head right wasn't in vain, and I'd finally made it out of the gutter.
So I messaged her on Facebook, and to my surprise she actually responded. We started talking again, and soon it was back to every day. When my baby mama got back on drugs and turned abusive and was putting my daughter's life in jeopardy on a near-daily basis, she was the one who convinced me I could fight for custody - that I had to fight for custody. So I did, and I won, and I've had full custody of of my daughter since she was 6 months old and for the 10 years since.
But eventually we parted ways again. I'd started seeing someone, and part of me knew I couldn't commit to another woman while I was still carrying on with her. Our relationship had started turning romantic again, and she had dropped some hints about old Jack that would come to the forefront later, but she wasn't ready to leave him and I didn't want to be that guy, so I sent her a message explaining why we had to stop talking, apologized, and ghosted her.
7 more years went by after that night. The relationship I abandoned her for soured quickly when I found out that chick was a carbon copy of my baby mama, and I quit dating to focus on my career and raising my daughter. But on the long, 2+ hour commutes each way from work, I often found myself stuck pondering the "what ifs". What if I hadn't ghosted her? What if our age gap wasn't there, and we'd never had to split up to begin with? I knew in my soul I was never going to find someone like her again, but I made peace with it. I imagined her happy life, her kids with Jack, and convinced myself I made the right choice.
Then COVID hit, and near the start of it, I stumbled on a post on reddit about this dude who sent his high school sweetheart a message many years later apologizing for how he treated her and telling her how her presence impacted him, and I thought to myself, "Hey, I did that!". So I started writing a reply, and for the first time told the story of this girl and I. I'd never told a soul about what happened with us, not even my family or closest friends. Maybe it was the stigma of having an online relationship back in those days that carried over, or maybe it was just too personal to share with my friends or family. It got long, so eventually I just decided to start a new thread. When I was done, it was so long I figured no one would ever read it, but I hit submit anyway and put my phone down and got back to work.
Well, I was wrong. People did read it - a lot of people. Soon my phone started blowing up. Thousands of comments, hundreds of DMs, people offering me book deals and asking if they could have the rights for a screenplay or have me on their podcasts. It was fucking surreal, and being generally a private person who tries to fly under the rader, it got overwhelming fast. Eventually I reached out to her again on Facebook, warned her about what happened, and apologized for putting her business out there.
She didn't respond for a couple weeks, and when she did we started talking again almost immediately. And then in mid-April 2020, she told me that she needed to talk to me. She spilled everything, and told me exactly who Jack was. How he would hack into her devices to spy on her, threaten to kill her and her partner if she ever left him, say vile things to her and her daughters, calling the young girls cunts and bitches. How he alienated all her friends and family, and kept them all isolated in the house her parents bought them that he would rarely leave.
And I felt deceived too. All those years I'd convinced myself that she was happy, that she got together with Jack and was living the life she deserved. In reality, Jack intentionally got her pregnant not long after he flew out to her state the first time. He quickly moved into her house, and refused to work or provide not only for her kids or their kids, but for the other 3 children he abandoned in Australia and Canada who he had no relationship with, with 3 different women he victimized in the same manner. When she was 8 months pregnant with their first kid, she was working nights doing hospice care while he sat on his ass playing videogames all night and talking to his ex. In 17 years, this fucking loser with 7 kids by 4 women worked a grand total of 5 weeks, quit his job, claimed he got PTSD from the experience, and somehow manipulated his way into getting SSDI for it. They survived off SSDI and her parents' charity for years.
But Jack was reading all of this, because like I mentioned earlier, he was hacking her devices and watching us talk remotely. Jack knew the jig was up, and slowly started to unravel. She told him she wanted a divorce, and that she was not going to sever her friendship with me again. And he pretended to take that well, going as far as to try to befriend and manipulate me. He tried every trick to keep her he'd done for years - telling her he was going to get help and would change first, then when that failed he made suicide threats and somehow got his therapist to call her and tell her as long as she didn't leave him he wouldn't kill himself, and then he tried to intimidate her. Eventually he went off the rails completely and sexually assaulted her when he thought she was sleeping.
She called me from her parents' house crying the night it happened, and I convinced her to file a police report. She did, and a couple weeks later Jack got removed from the home, served with a protective order, and charged for sexual abuse. This of course did nothing to stop Jack - he broke into their house a couple days later when she and the kids were out to upload a folder of revenge porn to his Google Drive under the guise of wanting to drop off a cake for her birthday.
Then the stalking started. Jack would relentlessly message her all day and night on Facebook, switching between rage, trying to garner sympathy, convince her he would change, and threatening self-harm. We later found out via a cyber forensics report that he was hacking into the laptop she had taken with her while she hid at her parents' and had been so bold as to steal her Victim Impact Statement and send it to all his World of Warcraft buddies as a joke.
And he didn't just stalk her, he came for me too. Constant unauthorized attempts to access my accounts for everything from Windows to my bank, spam calls and emails - shit, the wormy little fuck even got his friends to stalk my social media and pretend to be strangers to gaslight me. I ignored all of it, and he got desperate enough to send me a lovely message attempting to extort and blackmail she and I, claiming he had "all my posts" but wouldn't do anything with them if I called him. The tipping point for me is when he subscribed to my small YouTube channel - which had nothing on it but 3 videos of my daughter. That veiled threat wasn't lost on me.
But Jack fucked up. I don't know if he thought his insane nonsense would scare me off, or if in his delusions he really thought he was the bad mother fucker he convinced himself he was, but Jack didn't know jack about me. I'm a crazy fuck too, and while he was sitting on his fat ass playing World of Warcraft all day every day for the past couple decades, I was selling drugs and hanging with some of the grimiest mother fuckers Baltimore had to offer. I've seen and experienced a lot of real violence outside a computer monitor, and the prospect of a violent resolution to this saga didn't phase me a whole lot. I'd spent years trying to be a better person and avoid conflict, but I sure as shit wasn't afraid of it either. Leading up to this point, I was already trying to calm myself down and talk myself off the ledge and not pack my guns and drive out there to keep watch until the police did their thing and put him away, which took a lot longer than it should have - this fucking guy violated his protective order 80 times in just a couple weeks.
So I called him, and he spent the next 26 minutes crying over the phone like a drunk little bitch, while I tried my best to be kind and to talk him off the ledge. And yes, I did record it, and yes it is hysterical listening to it now in hindsight, and yes I still have the recording. Anyway, I told him he was scaring the shit out of her and the kids, and he promised to leave us alone and I told him if he could chill the fuck out I would try to talk her into giving him more access to the kids. The next day, she got an email from her first ex-husband - Jack had reached out to him with a link to my reddit post trying to get help from him to come after me, which he promptly shut down and sent to her.
The next few weeks were terrifying as Jack descended further into madness and became more scared and desperate. He knew she was gone and not coming back, and he was facing real charges and real jail time, and while Jack is a fucking moron in a lot of ways, I'm sure he knew a fat, greasy computer nerd with a sex offense conviction wasn't going to have a good time in County. Jack was a murder-suicide waiting to happen, the police were doing nothing to stop his stalking, and I felt powerless to help her. Eventually after he sent her $50 over PayPal at 4:00am with what appeared to be a suicide note, I had enough. I called the DA's office, asked them why the fuck this was being allowed to happen, and promised them I'd been taking meticulous notes and if anything happened to her I would be taking it straight to the media. The DA told me if I was going to make threats the conversation was over, but sure enough he was finally arrested not long after.
Ironically we had remained platonic friends through most of this, but the shared experience of dealing with this psycho brought us closer together and things quickly changed. We knew he wasn't going to stop when he got out of jail, I felt responsible for her safety after my stupid reddit post started this chain of events that led to Jack's unraveling, and with the world seemingly coming apart during COVID, decided if we were ever going to meet it felt like it was now or never. So I booked a plane ticket across the country, spent a week with her and her family, and a few days after I came home she flew out to visit me and meet my family.
We went into it with no expectations. I fully accepted we might not click and our relationship would go back to being platonic. For my part, I just wanted the closure of finally meeting this person who had such a profound impact on my life before COVID mutated or something and killed us all.
But we did click, and the next two weeks were life-changing. I met and cooked for her entire extended family the day after I arrived, and it went well. While I was there I got her mom's email address, and after I went home I had an idea. I knew her parents had met in DC, so I emailed her mom and asked her for a list of places that were special to her, and she told me about the church her parents had met in. I asked her to keep our conversation secret so it would be a surprise, and she did.
So when she comes out to the east coast, I take her on a tour through DC and park the car a few blocks down the street from the church. As we're walking by, she notices the church and comments on how beautiful it is.
I keep it cool and respond, "Yeah, that's a pretty important place.".
She looks at me and says, "Oh? Why's that?".
"That's where your parents met.".
She audibly gasps, giddily bounces a bit, starts to cry, and we pulled down our masks (fuckin covid) and kiss. Her reaction is easily one of the greatest memories in my life. What I didn't know at the time, was that her parents had told her about that church since she and her siblings were kids. When the church changed denominations, the church took the angel statue off the top and brought it back to her home state, and her parents had taken them to see it a few times throughout her childhood.
Anyway, getting sidetracked here, the sappy love story stuff is a different story altogether.
A month after we met for the first time, I had quit my job, sold everything I couldn't fit in my sedan, and she flew back out and drove across the country with my daughter and I.
Sounds crazy as hell, and it was, but it worked out better than it should have. I got a good job making more than I did back home right away, her kids loved me, and my daughter loved her and adjusted to her new home fast. And by the time Jack got out of jail for felony cyberstalking, sexual abuse, and Intimidation of a Witness in a Domestic Violence case, we had cameras all over the house, and I had taught my fiancee how to shoot - which she quickly became better than me at.
But Jack's time in jail didn't slow him down, and the 2-10 year suspended sentence didn't deter him at all. As a matter of fact, on his first day out one of the first things he did was start trying to hack her accounts again. He managed to con an elderly couple he knew threw World of Warcraft from a different state into letting him live with them, and from there he spent a lot of time and energy stalking us and hacking our devices to the best of his ability. He also convinced these poor, very stupid elderly people from his videogame to bankroll a lengthy, expensive divorce. Somehow a man who hadn't worked in almost 20 years managed to run us into over $50,000 in legal fees in two years. How a marriage with zero assets turned into a two year battle when both parties were officially in poverty before the divorce, or how the family courts never saw through the bullshit is beyond me.
To Jack's credit, he did a pretty good job remaining a thorn in our side. Largely due to the complete and utter ineptitude and indifference of the police and District Attorney who could and should have put a stop to his bullshit at any point in that time. Old Jack got hit with a permanent criminal stalking injunction and a 10-year protective order along with his probation, and no amount of effort on our part would get the police, DA, or probation to put a stop to it, despite mountains of evidence.
He successfully managed to draw the divorce out right up to the wedding we planned a year and a half prior, with his attorney putting in motion after motion to delay the process. With all our family and friends coming from all over the country and as far away as Japan, we accepted our wedding would just be a celebration and not an official wedding. Until the night before the wedding, she got a call from her attorney - he had made a call to the clerk's office at the court and got her to move the paperwork to finalize the divorce to the top of the pile, and she was officially divorced. Our wedding would be a real wedding after all, and despite Jack's best efforts, he lost again. We had the wedding on a remote ranch that we rented for a week, and foolishly decided to cater and decorate ourselves, which would have been a colossal undertaking without the extra 4 hours to drive into town and get our marriage certificate at the courthouse. But we pulled it off and it was everything we could have hoped for and then some, and we were officially married.
Jack of course didn't stop after the divorce was finalized. The list of shit he tried to do to us before and after that is too long to spell out in an already too long post, but here are some choice bits:
He wrote a demented letter to the oldest of his kids with her who severed her relationship with him, calling my wife and her mother "vipers and cowards" and promising we would "answer for what we've done sooner or later".
He continuously hacked our computers, miscellaneous accounts tied to our emails, and any other devices he could get into - dropping in remotely via Amazon Alexa, phones, etc.
He set up bots to send us thousands of spam emails, sign us up for dozens of international newsletters all at once, and requests for consultations for things like solar panel installations.
He told the kids vile lies about my wife and I, although the most egregious was when he used a court-ordered therapy appointment with his second oldest daughter to accuse me of distributing child porn, told the therapist I am an "evil man", and told him I wasn't safe to be around his daughters. This led to her being forensically interviewed by the police, where she spelled out what happened, but of course they did nothing.
He gave the two youngest children cell phones to sneak into our house, with Google accounts activated and location tracking turned on.
He sent packages to our house 5 times in the space of a few months, one of which was addressed to himself and contained nothing but a bag of Stevia and a pack of gum. These packages generally came to our door the day before his scheduled visitation with the kids.
During this time my bank account was hacked four times in the span of just a few months with nearly identical fraudulent charges. In each of these instances, I had completely changed my bank account information.
He filed false reports with CPS twice, alleging we were beating the children, locking them in the closet, and not feeding or bathing them. This led to a CPS agent coming to our house to investigate.
We brought all this to the police over and over as it happened, and they did nothing. The DA running the case wasted 5 months subpoenaing a fake email address that we told them when we reported it was fake and spoofed. After finding out about that, we went to the DA's office to find out what the fuck was going on. A Victim's Advocate met with us, and was horrified about how the case was handled, looked up the prosecutor assigned to the case, rolled her eyes and said "Oh...it's Stephanie", confirming what we already knew - this prosecutor was completely incompetent, an elect3d politician moonlighting as a prosecutor. She called us the next day to tell us the actual DA called a meeting and a warrant was put out for Jack's arrest. For some inexplicable reason, they pulled the warrant back, and the advocate told us it was because the DA was pursuing more serious charges.
Then, they stonewalled us. The Victim's Advocate we had met with that actually tried to help us was moved off our case, and the new one assigned refused to talk to us or return our calls. The few exchanges we had with her, she made it abundantly clear she had the DA Office's interests in mind and not ours. We decided to just stay quiet and let the process play out and hope for the best, up until we received an email on Friday night before Election Day from the Detective telling us Stephanie had closed the case. I assume she didn't want her incompetence coming to light, and didn't want to shut the case down before Election Day knowing we would be on the warpath.
Eventually, Jack caught wind that he was officially under criminal investigation, but clearly had no idea they were never going to press charges. He got quiet for a bit, until he was ultimately let off probation early. We still get the occasional reminder he's out there watching, but his fear of going back to jail and the belief it might happen cowed him a bit. So instead he harasses us through the family courts, filing constant bullshit motions with no evidence to support them, and for some reason the courts let it continue. Somehow a man who makes ~$800 from SSDI and is only paying $30 a month total to support his 3 kids with my wife is able to fund tens of thousands of dollars worth of legal proceedings every year, and no one in the family courts has ever stopped to ask how he is paying for it or why all this money isn't being spent on supporting these children.
But despite Jack's best efforts, his bullshit hasn't worked. My wife and I have been together for four years soon, and married for two. His kids call me dad and hate his guts, only seeing him because the courts force them to. I continue to advance in my career, landing two major promotions in the past 2 years and now running a division in one of the largest companies in my field in this part of the country. I just enrolled in college to go back to school and get a degree in family law with a focus on domestic violence. The most frustrating part of the whole experience with ol' Jack was having no one to turn to when all the institutions who were supposed to keep this from happening ignored us, and even though I'll be well into my mid 40's before I accomplish my new goals, I plan to advocate for domestic violence victims and do everything I can to lobby for change to these laws to keep as many people as I can from going through what my wife and I did. I learned that the only way to beat these people at their game is to play on the same field right along with them, and that's what I intend to do.
My wife went back to work too once she healed from some of the trauma, making $30 an hour as a personal assistant for a fella who's had two movies made about his life. Our kids struggled a bit with school and dealing with all their biological parents' issues, but they quickly turned it around and have been excelling. We're all happy, healthy, and doing better now than ever.
As for Jack? Well, he's pushing 50 and still spending his days alone, playing World of Warcraft and jerking off in this old couple's basement. Nothing has changed there, and now he's too fat, old, and visibly an enormous fucking loser to victimize women in the same way he did in his youth. I have no doubts he'll find another victim eventually, probably when these old weirdos bankrolling his life now finally wise up, but one thing Jack forgets is that karma is a mother fucker, and I have a giant database of evidence that I can and will send out to whoever I please to help pull that mask down and keep him from doing this to someone else. Nothing is more appealing to a potential love interest than hearing their man cry like a drunk bitch for 26 minutes to the man he claims stole his wife, while simultaneously admitting to sexually assaulting said wife.
As wonderful as it would have been for Jack to go to prison where he can't hurt anyone again, there is some catharsis knowing Jack will forever be in a prison of his own making. His children want nothing to do with him, and he'll never see them graduate or walk them down the aisle. Jack will die miserable and alone, and in his narcissistic delusion will still be blaming everyone else for the colossal failure of his life, while continuing to fail to grasp the one thread that ties all his misery together - himself.
And since he somehow manages to find and stalk most of my social media, I'd wager Jack will end up reading this too. I hope he does in all honesty. And Jack, if you are reading this, I want you to know that you can kick, flail, manipulate and lie, cry and complain until you're red in the face. None of it matters. You don't matter. You'll leave this world alone, as sad and bitter as you are now, and the world will be a better place for it.

Long story short, my husband is a stay at home parent to our kids (m3 and f4). Our life looks like this: I get him and the kids up at 7, work 8-5 M-F, and he watches them while I work. With the exception of Friday nights, I care for them from 5pm to bedtime, and I care for them alone on weekends. He is supposed to do chores and take care of the home during his “off hours”. For the first two or three years of our oldest’s life this was our arrangement. I’ve slowly had to take on more of the chores because they just aren’t being done. Laundry is constantly everywhere. The walls are covered in crayon and marker and chocolate. The sink is always full of dishes. He doesn’t bathe the kids unless one of them has a blowout or gets into something while I’m working. He has never put them both in the car and taken them anywhere - not once. They basically live on TV and tablets. I’ve forced the issue as much as I can, putting my daughter in part time preschool and gymnastics, but I have to take time out of my work day to take her to those things. As it is, I spend most of my evenings and weekends with the kids cleaning the home, bathing them, feeding them, and getting them to sleep.
In the last year, he has asked for $100/pay (biweekly) as fun money, to which I agreed. But I have also raised my concerns about how I feel he isn’t really pulling his weight several times. We live in an apartment with a patio and a playground - I’ve asked him to take them out to play during the days, and he refuses. I’ve bought zoo passes and given gift cards to the science museum, and he won’t take them. The bathrooms are never cleaned unless I do it. He doesn’t shampoo carpets, mop floors, clean the walls. I’m just frustrated that as a stay at home parent, he isn’t doing what I see as enough to justify having every evening and weekend completely to himself AND getting pocket money.
Last week I told him I was hitting a peak of frustration. He never speaks to me except to complain. I’m in the process of buying a house for us, so I had to stop giving him the $100/mo and cancel extra subscriptions to make that affordable, and he is telling me that since I want him to do more he isn’t going to do anything - laundry, “my” dishes, grocery runs - until I start paying him $200/pay (biweekly). He wrote a note calling it a “campaign of noncooperation” until his “small comforts” are returned to him.
I really am starting to feel gaslit here. I’m a female breadwinner and I feel like I’m doing everything I can to make this work for him. I know being a stay at home parent with no economic power is hard. But now I’m looking for a second job, at the cost of even more time away from my kids, and knowing they’ll get substandard care from my husband. He’s a caring parent and I believe he loves our kids but he just isn’t doing enough. Am I in the wrong here? Should I just pay him and let some of my personal debts go in the interest of fairness?
Edit: guys please stop asking Reddit to recommend counseling 🙃 I get it, I am not as in the wrong as I thought I was

Had reoccurring BBA in my 6gal for months now. My light is on 6-8hours a day and I feed my betta and snails once a day (fast over the weekend). Using a sponge filter with an air stone, plants will get fertiliser twice weekly but I've stopped that for now as I don't want to add too much nutrients to the water while I'm trying to combat the BBA. All water parameters normal.
Could adding a couple of amano shrimp be effective? I'm hesitant to do a hydrogen peroxide bath for my plants and would rather a more natural repellent but I'm open to suggestions for anything regardless :)

Almost all of my fragrances/ preferred scents have floral/ white floral in the top notes. My daily wear recently has been Gucci Flora Gorgeous Jasmine layered with Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia (accidentally purchased rather than Peony & Blush Suede). Evening/ heavier scents very standard such as CH Good Girl or YSL Libre Intense.
I’ve never received an outright compliment on my perfume other than from my husband (and my mum but I get my love of fragrance from her so that’s to be expected) though when topic of perfume or a smelly person comes up I’ve been told a few times along the lines of ‘you always smell really good’ or ‘I always think you smell nice’ which is nice to hear, but I’ve always wanted that ‘stopped in the street’ compliment 🤣 I don’t blind buy (almost gave in to the Ariana Cloud hype and I’m forever grateful I decided to test it first - definitely not for me) and have only purchased one scent without testing first as it was an everyday inoffensive scent (still was a little let down lol…) which was Maison Margiela Bubble Bath.
So I have lots of little testers kicking about, some I’ve spritzed once and never again, some are just spares for days I want something different without committing to an entire purchase, some I’ve used fully and purchased an entire bottle. I wanted to wear something heavy yesterday and chose YSL Libre intense, but wanted to layer it with something heavier (something I almost never do) and landed on my Baccarat Rouge sample. I’ve never been a fan of it but knew its woodiness and amber would work for what I was after. ONE spritz of baccarat rouge on my wrists, then layered normally with YSL Libre intense and I received SO MANY compliments.
In one store a sales advisor came over to authorise my purchase and literally stopped in her tracks and said ‘I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you smell incredible… I’m just going to stand here while you finish up and just smell you’ and stood next to me while I paid 😱🤯🎉 three of my colleagues all commented, one saying I smelled really good, another asked what I was wearing, and another saying I smell really good ‘not that you don’t normally but today it’s really good’.
Have I been wearing the wrong notes this entire time? Is there some kind of crack in Baccarat Rouge? I still don’t think much of it but gosh, it definitely seems to work!
TLDR; Switched from my normal floral/ white floral scents to a woody base for one day (Baccarat Rouge layered with Libre intense) and was floored by the amount of compliments I received. Am doubting all of my frag choices to date.

When I was in my teens my mother had a partner who was a bit ‘too nice’. Over time I would notice him lurking around the house when I got out of the shower or was in my room getting changed. He would peek in keyholes, there was a small window up quite high above the bathroom door and I would see him looking in when I was in the shower. He even somehow created a small hole in the roof of the bathroom from the attic and he would go up there and look down while I was in the bath. He used to be a masseuse and would offer to give massages and touch my boobs, always found some way to get close and touch me inappropriately. Or purposely leave his bedroom door opened while naked which I had to pass to get to the bathroom so I would see him as I went by. I never said anything. My mother found out and woke me one morning before school to ask me about it, I cried and never wanted to speak about it. We went to one family therapy session where I found out from my sister that it was happening to her too, she found recordings on his phone of my cousin in the shower also. It was a huge ordeal for us all and we never spoke of it. He moved abroad for a while but when he came back he got into a relationship with another woman who I knew had a daughter my age, I was worried he would do the same to her but thought I was a bit older now so the girl would have the sense to notice these things and most likely stayed with her boyfriend most nights anyway I liked to convince myself as I was too afraid to speak up, I was worried how it would affect my mother and I don’t blame her for any of this so would prefer no negative comments about her. His parents were friends with my grandparents and my aunts and uncles friends with some of his siblings so it all felt very awkward. Skip forward to late last year where it came out that he had been recording the daughter of his new partner too and a few days later he commit suicide. I don’t live in the same town so done well enough to block it out but for the past few months I feel like I see him in places even though he’s obviously not there. If I see people who resemble him I think it’s him for a moment and then it’s all that’s on my mind. I would say I almost felt sad when he passed as he was a big part of our lives for so long although everything he done was very wrong. I probably need to go back to therapy and try to process this better but is it normal? It just feels weird but I don’t want to actually think about it in depth. I’m now in my mid-late 20’s. Guess I just wanted to finally get all of this off my chest in a way.
TL;dr - was groomed by my mother’s partner in my teens and he’s passed away and I feel like I see him everywhere and don’t know if it’s normal.

I adopted an adult male Syrian hamster probably a month ago now. He used to live in a super small petstore cage owned by children, and now has over 900 square inches. He has 40 cm of bedding, a 12 inch wheel, tons of natural stuff to explore, sand bath, sprays.. everything he needs. But he's constantly acting stressed and unhappy. He tries to climb to get up to the bars on the lid to the cage, chewing it and stuff. I let him be outside in a pen every once in a while, or be on my bed. But every time, he tries to throw himself off the edge. Why is that? I really want him to be happy and I've gave him what he needs but he doesn't seem to ever get calm.

I (25M) and my friend (25M) are looking to finally get our first apartment. We live in Massachusetts and the COL is just so high that were still the first amoungst our friend group to actually be ready to move out. Buying just isn't an option here and neither one of us can leave. Currently we both live at home still. We worked it out and found a place we think is in our budget but also what we both want. My weekly income ranges from 850-1100 His ranges 1500-2000 The apartment we want is 2500 a month for a 2 bed 2 bath (this is actually a pretty good price around here) We are doing an uneven split for the master so my monthly rent would be between 1200 and him 1300 Utilities/internet estimated at 200 each My total cost 1400-1500 His 1500-1600 I worked it out over the last year to keep all my other bills down and can keep my monthly expenses down to 2000 a month (food included) while bringing in 3500-4k I guess my only real question is does anyone find this to be a reasonable budget and expenses? We more than meet their income requirements and the place is what we both want. Staying home isn't an option.
Edit sorry for formatting on mobile and I tried to make a list but it did not work

I read acotar a while ago and forgot abt it until I got back into it a yr ago..when I went online to read comments and art...I found a lot of gwyn. I was excited...I thought it's a new major character - safe to say when I actually read acosf I was majorly let down abt the fake hype
So I know there's a massive ship war going on, this post is unrelated to the that. This is talking abt gwyn and her character being hyped up to something she isnt as a whole being quite ...ridiculous
Let's start with her introduction- Sjm had written her inspired by her real life friend as a support system to nesta. Let me say this first. Gwyn and emerie don't know Nesta all that well. They are card board copies to being Nesta's yes girls. They don't know her ugly and cruel sides as well as feyre and elain do . So I do think if Nesta were to show them her true biting nature - they would ditch .
Now to gwyn. I don't think I've seen a character given more personality then gwn by a fandom before. I've seen draco malfoy become a simp for hermione granger in fanon but those fans do understand that it is just crack.
I kid you not...people actually believe gwyn has a pov in acosf...and I don't understand where....
I'm going to say this...gwyns abuse and what she suffered was terrible and no one should be forced to live through that. I admire how she's getting out of her shell, is making friends and is healing . what emerie went through was just as heart breaking and I'm glad that whilst Nesta is awful to her sister's...she's good to these 2 girls and have helped in their recoveries. be it through reading books or chilling in massive baths..it's healing so good for them. this post is focused on the toxicity in this fandom
With gwyn ,fans have given her so many characteristics that they grasped onto from very little information given to us from the book itself. Some believe she's the heiress to the autumn court. Some believe she's a siren. Some believe she can have bat babies because her bones are pliable ?? Just to point out - her hips aren't going to evacuate the room to birth a bat child. Some abuse her trauma and abuse to hate on other people and characters in the book.
If you love a character well and good- but to bolster said character that was just properly introduced to bully others is sad. People have written essays as to why gwyn would be a good mother to nyx and not feyre...why gwyn should look after nyx. Why gwyn should yell at feyre over nyx? I don't understand where all of this comes from. Feyre and gwyn haven't even met ..why would she lecture her high lady on maternal instincts ? The women who nearly died to birth her son ? Why create this image of gwyn that doesn't exist.
Now to gwyn in acosf.
She was initially rude to Nesta- which Nesta enjoyed coz she's weird like that. But can we talk about how she 1. Didn't respect Nesta's request for secrecy and ran to tattle to merril ? And 2. Her instance to reach the top of the mountain which was extremely dangerous for not just her but all three women? She was carried ... due to her stubbornness. Which was extremely dangerous. Being competive is one thing...endangering your friends ...an entirely different thing. This is the character we saw...an entirely different version to the fanon gwyn created. Canon gwyn was slightly naive and not very reliable. Fanon gwyn is going to rule velaris ?
Now - I also want to question why absolutely no head canons like this exist for emerie ? She gets no love from fans like Nesta and gwyn. shes the forgotten valkyrie . Why don't we see people saying emerie should berate feyre on motherhood. Who even thought feyre should be berated for her parenting style? We barely saw nyx and feyre
Why do no head canons exist for mor and amren like this ? Why is mor bashed by the fandom despite being tortured and abused ? Why is it when we question gwyn being a tattle to merril everyone claims we hating on women ? Why the double standards , bullying and hypocrisy in the fandom ? And why is it always gwyn being the hero whilst other characters like feyre - the protagonist- should be bashed to bolster up gwyn
When asked what sets gwyn apart from other characters all I got was she's good with kids , she saved kids and she left the library for Nesta...thoae aren't qualities of the next fmc who rhys is going to scream at feyre over. Thats just a good person...being a good character isn't that strange.. it's nothing ground breaking. She's a sweet character who is in the process of healing just like everyone else is....but fooling new readers to believe she's more then that just isn't it.
I truly do believe the fandom had run rampant with imagination due to having no new book for 3 years. I truly hope the next book is announced soon so all the enemosity dies down in the fandom...but I know that's me being naive