Sagittarius woman in love

I have been working in temp jobs for a while and I have been saving money for surgery and some time off to recover. I started T and I feel like I present pretty queer but the job I am at right now have assumed I am a woman and also straight - but they all really love me and by work wants me to stay on full time, problem is this is a religious organisation and I didn’t feel comfortable enough to share anything about myself really - plus because it was a temp job I didn’t see the point.
Now I am in a situation where if I agree to work there permanently I’d have to either lie about my a lot of my life or tell them that I am transitioning and risk being treated differently (or worse).
I need the money still and I don’t want to leave this job. I feel like some of my coworkers will support me and others won’t … besides I am NOT a good liar - and although I feel like my coworkers want to get to know me, I am happy to be a mystery hah.
A bit stuck on how to handle this!

So I[M22] met her[F23] in june, last year. At that time both of us were in different relationships and very shitty ones. We became friends and then as time went by, we came closer and closer and then realised that yes we are legit perfect for each other. Cut to feb of this year, althogh we both went through a rollercoaster in these months and eventually figured things out, Feb was the month she needed me the most. Her health was very poor and instead of supporting me and instead of actually being there for her, I just said that yes i am here for you always. I hurt her a lot at that time and i was kind of selfish too. I did not address her pain but all I did when i made a mistake saying that yes i know this was wrong and i will not do that instead of really trying to understand the pain that i made her go through. I made her cry on the valentines day and i fucking hated it. She wanted to break up then beacuse she is not wrong. She being the best woman on this earth, decided to give me another chance. I was acting immature but she gave me another chance to grow up. it was my birthday in April and she legit made it the best birthday ever in my last 22 years. I was so goddamn happy on my birthday, it was magical. we also went on a staycation on early may and it went amazing too.

Now we were both supposed to go for masters this year. I could not get in but she did and she did in the top instituitions of my country. Her being a goddess, she decided that she wants to go with me so she decided that we can go together next year. She delayed her professional life for an year because of me. While on our staycation, she explictly told me that "I need you, PLease be there for me" Now dumb me thought that she meant that be available for me instead of being emotionally there for her. I did not even acknowledge her decision because I thought that i dont want to make her cry because she is going through a lot at home because she has to deal with thte pressure about not going. I have said thank you to her countless times but never really acknowlege about the fact that how much she is going through for me. Today is her birthday and she is crying because of me on her birthday. It was my mistake and blunder as i should say to this relationship. and she is not wrong about breaking up, but i dont want her to go. Now that I know how I was not there when she needed me the most, I know how to be there now. And me saying sorry again and again must sound very very irritating I dont know what to do, I am and I will make amends but I really do not want to hurt her. This was not a casual relationship, we both were dating each other to marry. 

I know where I was wrong but I really hope it is not too late to amend. I have done horrible things and have hurt her. I really wish I loved her the way she did. She is a goddess and I want to make her feel what she made me feel like.

here is a little list of my favorite PAC shows. no pervy ish or slice of life fluff. well rounded 20 something’s and above in all genres.
• Moriarty the Patriot +a twist on the villian to sherlock
• The Witch & the Beast + hot magical duo take on witches of the world with glimpses of sweetness amongst the death and destruction
• Special 7: SCIU + taking place in a modern Tokyo but on another world, misfit investigators work hard to solve crimes with a fantasy twist
• Love of Kill + two deadly assassins fight each other and their feelings
• X&Y + a chinese anime about escape rooms that that you never escape, forbidden love and mystery
• MARS RED + set in the 1920 war period, vampires fight for the army to take down evil vamps.
• Nobleese + vampire royalist awakens and starts havoc in the world
• Ron Kamonohashi’s Forbidden Deductions + a twist on sherlock where a detective has a curse but still can’t help but to solve crimes
• Ninja Kamui + a new and modern take on ninjas with a mix of corporate greed, robots and revenge
• Akudama Drive + savvy criminals live in a split japan in this modern crime thriller with cyber punk energy
• B: The Beginning + a serial killer runs rampant in a modern archipelagic nation where random strangers come together to solve the crime
• High Card + a mix of genres come together in the action packed anime with sleek dressing characters and intricate story lines, fast paced and fresh.
• Link Click + a chinese anime follows two twenty something guys who own a photo studio only they jump in the photos to solve the mysteries.
• Case File N^221: Kabukicho +a sherlock esque story in the underworld of crime in the modern day.
• Stand My Heros: Piece of Truth + a woman seeks out the best investigators to stop the drug trade in tokyo. relatable, light with a base of mystery
• Ōoku: The Inner Chambers + a throwback to the days of emperors and empresses in a world where all the men die out leading them to be a commodity. a tale of love, gender and action
• Devils Line + vampires and humans, in love ? death and romance
• HERO/MASK + action pack crime story with soulful characters
• Fairy Gone + fantasy, fighting and unrequited love perhaps
• KADO: The Right Answer + when a far away alien genius arrives do we trust his every word to save our planet ?
• AFTERLOST + a whole cities population disappears except one and a few friends from the outside join for the adventure

Shhhhh, calm down, stop extrapolating. It's okay. I'm still here for you - the moment you tell me you want me to be.
I know it's not just my heart facing storms. I've been tracking my demon, this shell-of-a-man you helped me find in me long enough; starting to have him cornered, understood, figured out. (Thank you again for helping me to see him, and helping to remember Me. One way or another, you always do that.)
Yet I'm wondering about Her, too. Your demon. (Can you feel her? Do you hear her?) She's that part of you who tells you I don't care.
She snidely scoffs, weaves you a shell by telling you you're superior, better off - yet isolates you, keeps you to herself, traps you in her own web of Words, their resonance protecting you even as they provide a reprieve from the warmth you might've felt, the comfort and reassurances rising to be a salve for those inner core wounds.
She tells you not to connect with people - that we're all only going to hurt you, when the truth is many of us have scars on our hearts and souls too. Even if you hate me, if you never speak to me again - that joy I felt thinking you hadn't given up on us, on people in general, had me relieved. I don't know if I'd've ever forgiven myself if what I was to you was that last chance you gave us. Maybe you were right; you needed someone Secure (or earned-Secure). I hadn't been, yet. Still am not, though a lot of times I feel it.
You don't have to if you don't want to. I won't presume to tell you what your happiness would look like, anymore. That was my prize mistake; we can never decide happiness for each other, nor assume ours map to others'. I'm sure I'll make it again with others someday - I keep getting excited when I think I'v'e it figured out; but the truth is I rarely if ever do. I make mistakes, repeat, iterate. I'm sure it's when I'd assert something patently false that you'd've seen me, maybe accepted me with a chuckle (or an inevitably adorable eyeroll) had you stuck around.
What you want, what you decide - that is up to you, but remember you don't have to leave it up to your Demon, either. You decide what your happiness is, not me, not her. The real you who decides to agree it's worth it to reach out to people; not the one who'd sooner leave herself up in the tower, itself a cage of her own design. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one you felt comfortable letting your guard down around; I'm so, so sorry I didn't take the time to hear you, listen to you, realize how important that moment was to you.
The fact that I hurt you so much hurts me, because the person you are, I love so much too. You did what I thought impossible; made me fall in love with lights, yours shining brighter than any fiber-optic signals. In this beautiful era, this age of the 'net, having found each other through such a wonderful revolutionary iconic technology - I'd still have wanted to revisit the others through the ages with you. Telegraph and ham radio. :3 (Oooo! The lab could have Nixie tubes! =D)
...But yes, part of me will always love you, though you may doubt me - I know the person you are. You showed me, in perhaps the most beautiful, vulnerable display; that deluge of honesty a welcome reprieve in a sea of superficial people barely able to muster ten words to describe themselves. You were just you, and the you-you-are is
I'd give anything to hear your true voice again, as I feel I hear when you're talking to The Void, when you think no one's listening. I'd be silent for days, weeks, just to let her talk. And someday, I'll figure out what she needed - a keyword of silence, a Void to talk into, home field language advantage - for her storms and mine to finally harmonize, and layer together.
You decided back then to just be yourself, your full self, and damn the consequences. (Even if the consequences were an inexperienced blue blob who scampers too loudly to listen, only learns mistakes after he's broken the vase, can't read caution tape...) And that you - that honest, vulnerable, caring, loving, warm, cold, ruthless, pragmatic, silly, caring woman? Ask me how I feel about her in person sometime; after you've convinced yourself I couldn't possibly have known you, loved you; and maybe then you'll believe me when I hold her close, and tell her how long I knew.
And I might never get to do that; but no matter what happens, _ _ _... I wish you all the happiness in the world.
I won't mark this "Strangers" - I know you feel safer there, I know you know my established handles, way of speaking - but I don't think I could ever feel that way about you again.
Hopefully someday you feel we could at least be friends - I know any moment I spent around you I'd enjoy, even if it's just talking about silly fun mangas.
But to show you, I can be strangers too... If that's what you really want. :winks:
:eyes you, then Her, then you again pointedly:
I can't defeat your Demon for you; just as you couldn't've mine. The most I can do is give you the Weapons, my words and actions, to use against her when she starts telling you I don't care. But don't let her control you. It's okay. I'm here for you.
I don't care how many other people exist between me and you. That thing I built when we thought we'd lost each other? I'd build it again, and again, as many times as it takes. For as long as I believe you might still be that loving, caring, warm soul who dared to hope against herself that I care about you, don't worry. I'm here for you, and as long as I think I might know that about you I always will be.
You're safe. We found each other. As long as we care about each other, can be honest with each other, can be ourselves with each other someday. As long as I can remember to simmer down, to hear you. (I was hoping as long as you realize being yourself won't make me leave, just attract me more... :3)
And if you're the person I think you are, I think you might like me too. My well of optimism, my own cold ruthless Logician (whom you might've underestimated? =3 :scribbles proofs:) protecc'ing my own happy-dumb core. And so someday, if you need help fighting her, I'll reach out again too. Help you show her what I know and you want to believe.
...
:looks up:
We're a couple of silly ducks, aren't we. 😅

How many times must I (41m) communicate the same issue to my (46f) gf before I call it quits? What is fair in the name of love?
I've long wrestled with the love vs desire war in my head, but right now I'm feeling so low and hopeless. I love my gf of 6 years, and for the most part it's great, but the reality of it is, I feel loved, just not desired.
After a nasty divorce from a 16 year long relationship/marriage, a few crazy single encounters, I met my current gf. By this stage and my age neither of us wanted anymore kids, I emphasized I didn't want marriage again and we were both happy.
1 year in, she got exposed in a lie she'd told me. I broke my boundary, and accepted the reason why she lied (scared to tell me she'd had a fling with a certain person I knew). I did my best reassuring her I wasn't angry at what she'd done before me, but was furious she chose to lie assuming I would be mad. I accepted the reason (ex bf shaming her) and we moved on. Needless to say she kept getting exposed for another 2 years with countless lies.
We finally (so I believed) knew everything about each other, no more people could expose a lie... So I thought. This last weekend some friends were around and wine was flowing, the topic of anal sex came up. Each women saying their opinion, but then my gf, I overhear bragging about multiple different men including 1 night stands doing anal. Keep in mind, I have been told "tried once with only my ex fiance and hated it, will never do it again".... I couldn't care less for the anal sex, just why lie repeatedly.
For the last year and a half I've been saying we need more intimacy, it doesn't happen unless she's drunk and at most 2x a month. I'm an ex pro athlete and still train daily, I'm younger so I assume my sex drive is higher, but the month will not even be cold and it's exactly the same outcome as before communicating it with her. I'm feeling used and unwanted, and yes I love her, but not feeling wanted or desired, after a marriage I was committed to for 16 years which was basically sexless, is not what I signed up for on top of the lying.
I know many are going to say "people change.... perimenopause be supportive if you love her" but does that mean my needs are unimportant? Being supportive is a 2 way street surely? We have solutions for menopause - she doesn't do anything about it. I've communicated the issue over intimacy 4x at least in great detail - nothing changes.
Since hearing the truth about her anal escapades, I've spiralled into the mental depths of the abyss here. As I said it's not about the anal sex, it's simply just wanting to feel even a fraction of the desire those guys clearly got. I can't help but feel like an HIV infested leper that the woman pressuring me for marriage, that seemed to be so aroused to do anal with a perfect stranger on more than one occasion can't even be bothered if we don't have sex for 6 weeks, yet I must engage the stress of financial burden, step parenting her son, driving all hours of the night dropping or fetching from clubs, paying for ubers because he hasn't got money and his mom is passed out sleeping.
My head is simply telling me, we've all loved someone we wouldn't fuck, but we've all fucked someone we didn't love, love vs desire, and desire seems to win. Being the stable, financial and emotional rock for someone gets you patted on the head like a cute Tamagotchi pet. No desire, no passion.. just pay bills and agree the romanticism of "together forever" is all I need...
I just feel so fucking alone.

Greetings All!
I would love to have your insight on the compatibility between a Libra Woman and a Capricorn Man.
I am the female Libra with a Libra Stellium. My Sun and Mercury are in Libra in the 6th House, as well as Venus in Libra but in the 7th. My Rising sign is Aries and my Moon is in Leo.
He is a Capricorn male with a stellium in Capricorn. His Sun, Mercury, Uranus and Neptune are in Capricorn in the 1st House. All Conjunct. I believe he has a Cancer Moon and Sagittarius Rising.
On a side note we both have Pluto in Scorpio and Mars in Cancer.
His Midheaven is in Libra in the 10th House and my Midheaven is in Capricorn in the 10th House.
We have known eachother for quite some time but have always kept our connection platonic and very respectful despite clearly expressing physical attraction towards eachother. I sense that we both are reserved with our emotions when it comes to love but once in a committed relationship will be endlessly loving.
We work in very contrasting fields. Him being into tech, and I work in the health and fitness industry. But we share the same niche interests. He will be moving much closer to me which will give us the opportunity to know eachother better but I am still very curious nonetheless. Thank you for your input!

• Rob Weiss is her favorite ex-boyfriend.
• He’s the one person that was a good guy, talented, creative, and inspired her a lot. They were together for 7.5 years.
• He feels the same way about her.
• He liked her dad.
• Her mom and Weiss got along well. Her mom painted a house (her own? Weiss’?) and wanted to see Weiss’ reaction.
• Doherty avoids obstacles now, instead of trying to plow through them.
• He was on vacation in 1991, and met her at Bar One. He knew who she was. He had wanted to go into the film business.
• He made a movie, went to the Sundance Film Festival, moved to L.A.
• 2 years later, Doherty was married. Doherty started dating him around 1994.
• They moved in together quickly after Doherty left her first husband.
• They got together right before her 23rd birthday.
• He was not successful, but not a failure. He wrote “Milk Bar”. He did “American Psycho”.
• They watched Clerks together.
• Doherty says he introduced her to the indie film world.
• They were engaged. But after her first marriage, she believed a piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.
• Doherty’s mom still wears her wedding band, even though Doherty’s father died.
• They connect with each other on a soul level.
• He has a child with another woman.
• Doherty learned she needs to listen to her gut.
• They broke off the engagement a week before the wedding.
• Doherty was still following what was happening with her first husband.
• Marriage is an antiquated notion to Weiss.
• There’s no woman that’s more important to him than the mother of his child. They had dated for 3 years. But he doesn’t need to marry her.
• Doherty says Weiss is a Math Changer. (See the podcast with Doherty and Les Snead).
• Rick (another ex) was a Buyer Beware.
• Weiss says Rick has different demons. But he’s a cool cat.
• Weiss loves his dad, but he would categorize him as a toxic male. He smoked until he had lung cancer. He served in the military.
• Doherty loves Weiss’ dad.
• Doherty still adores both Rob and Rick.
• Doherty’s soul connection with Weiss will always be there.
• Rob gave Doherty the diamond heart necklace that Prue wore on Charmed.
• Weiss still has some necklaces and rings that Doherty gave him.
• Doherty had a tattoo with Weiss’ name on it. She eventually covered it up with flowers. Weiss did not want to get a tattoo with her name on it.
• He now has tattoos. Such as his son’s name. Since he likes tattoos now, he thinks maybe he would have gotten Doherty’s name on his neck, if he had to make the decision again.
• The best moment they had was in Venice, Italy. They went to get something to eat late at night. The streets were dead. Some guy started to talk to them. They told him they wanted food. They followed him. He directed them to two other people. Doherty thought they were going to get robbed. Eventually they were lead to a restaurant. It was a 24 hour restaurant. And the food was delicious.
• They went to Amsterdam. They ended up at a hostel with 5 beds in a room. She didn’t want to do that.

​

• Doherty thinks it’s hard for Weiss, because he can spend 2 years writing a show. Then he pitches it, and the people he pitches it to don’t like it.
• Weiss tries to work on 10 things at the same time.
• If he had spent 2 straight years working on only one thing, it would hurt him more.
• Doherty had a birthday party at a bar, where there was a fight.
• They had only been dating for 10 days. They started on April Fools Day.
• Greg Vance gave Weiss a weird look. Weiss went up to him and his people and asked if there was a problem. He turned around to his right, and got headbutted on his nose.
• The fight spilled out onto the street.
• He doesn’t roll with a large posse anymore.
• He stopped drinking 5 years ago.
• He loved red wine.
• He can’t be hungover at 7am, with his kid, anymore. He had to set a better example.
• His son is his dad reincarnated.
• He’s been nominated 3x for Entourage.
• Doherty just found out Weiss was nominated at the Sundance Film Festival for Grand Jury Prize.
• Doherty was so excited when she, Jason Priestley, and Luke Perry presented an award at the Emmys.
• Weiss thought Entourage was going to be horrible. He didn’t think the audience would connect with the show.
• Doug Elin had wanted Weiss to play Billy Walsh.
• Weiss’ first impression of Doherty was that she was his dream girl. She was fun. She was spicy. She smoked cigarettes like a fighter pilot. Sexy, great style. Amazing cook.
• Doherty wants another relationship. She just doesn’t want to get married again.
• Weiss does better in life on some nights when he can take a bubble bath, get up at 5:30am, and does what he needs to do, without having a conversation.
• Doherty agrees, so why can’t there be a relationship where Weiss doesn’t move in with someone, and they keep their separate places? So they can have off nights as needed.
• He thinks the guy should be older, but has nothing against men who are with women 20 years older. Whatever fits one’s preference.
• He just wants a positive energy with someone.
• He’s not looking for someone to go on a cruise together with.
• Weiss and Doherty dated for 2 - 3 years before they got engaged.
• The proposal was basically Doherty going “give me the fucking ring”.
• When they were in Italy and France together, Weiss ran into an old friend. That friend was with his girlfriend, who had a 5 carat ring. Doherty then wanted a ring. So they got that friend to make a ring.
• Weiss asked for her parents’ blessing.
• Her parents heaped concerns on him.
• Weiss was surprised, because they had been dating for 3 years.
• Their relationship was from right after she left Beverly Hills 90210, to right after she left Charmed.
• She stopped living with him at some point, and got her own place.
• Dick Wolf offered Doherty a show after Charmed. But she had to move to New York. She didn’t want to do that. She was in love. Her parents were in LA. She says she was an idiot for turning it down.
• They were on again, off again a few times during those 7 years.
• Dating was more pure back then, compared to now. Now it’s transactional. Dating is now only with people that can help someone.
• Weiss calls it opportunistic. And leveraging.
• Now, people develop a fantasy relationship with someone. Then they meet them, and it’s different.
• It was easier back then, because you dated people you knew, from within Hollywood.
• Weiss has supported Doherty during her cancer.
• Weiss was devastated when Doherty’s cancer came back.

I’ve been on a downward slope. An icy, slippery hill of a downward spiral, if you want. And since I’m a woman and I’m still breathing I get to still meet people. But don’t get any wrong ideas. They don’t stay. No one stays once they realize the train wreck they have on their hands. They fall in love with my youthful naivety and the philosophical nature of my existential crises, but as soon as the morning light of the next day shines on both our bodies, they realize what kind of monumental mistake it is to be with someone like me. I’m not talking about one night stands here either. Give these people enough booze and they stay for as long as I can entertain them somehow. But as soon as I show sign of being a real person, a real life biological doll, if you will, they’re out of here. So many mornings of just sitting on my bed unresponsive as they spill the most conventional reasons to leave. And I get it. I understand. This was never meant to be anything different. But I still feel lonely. It’s lonely because I compare myself to the person I was when I was still able to offer anything other than my body

{You, with a View by Jessica Joyce} is on sale for $1.99 at Amazon. According to the website, it's the best price in 30 days and it's not available via KU.
Link: Amazon US
Blurb:
Two high school enemies must reunite for a road trip inspired by their grandparents’ broken engagement in this electric debut romance.
Noelle Shepard is unemployed, living with her parents, and grieving the loss of her beloved grandmother when she discovers decades-old photos of Gram and a smitten man, tucked alongside a love letter. She creates a TikTok to search for the mystery man, which goes viral, and she’s shocked when his grandson responds—a man who happens to be her high school nemesis, Theo Spencer.
Noelle refuses to let Theo’s annoying accomplishments in adulthood—or his sexy smirk—stand in the way of meeting his grandfather and unlocking the secrets he knew about her gram as a young woman. When she learns that their plans to elope were thwarted, Noelle decides to take the honeymoon road trip they planned but never got to carry out. There’s a catch, though: Paul, Theo's grandfather, asks to come with her, and he insists that Theo join them.
It’ll be a miracle if they make it through the trip without Noelle throwing Theo out of the moving car—or the bed they end up sharing. As the miles tick by, the tension simmers hotter between them...until she discovers that Theo’s hiding a secret that could cause their tenuous relationship to end before it can restart.

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
Archive

***** I am mainly sending this because I want my evidence back and because I’m pissed that the police department allowed this to happen with next to 0 consequences. Names and identifying info redacted. Let me know if I should change anything, I genuinely am thinking about sending this to whoever I can find emails for at my local PD.
To Whomever This May Concern,
My name is *. I am 21 years old and am a recent graduate of the University *. I have made the difficult decision to write this letter because I am truly disgusted and horrified by the manner in which ** County, the ***** Police Department, and the Child Advocacy Center of *****, NY handled my allegations of rape, sexual assault, and stalking that were filed in 2019. I have allowed myself to move on and grow from this atrocious act that has significantly impacted my life, but my development as a functional, healthy adult has been drastically hindered due to the treatment and negligent investigation into this case.
I would like to describe my story in order to fully convey my frustrations. When I was fifteen years old in late July of 2018, just after my freshman year of high school, I began babysitting the child of a thirty-six-year-old man who my family and I knew quite well and had considered a family friend since I can remember. The premise of the childcare was to assist this man with daily tasks regarding his three-year-old daughter. The man in question was unemployed, but had a difficult time caring for his autistic child alone due to his anger issues, as recognized by the Department of Social Services.
When I began working for this family, the man in question, ****** (*) was in the home at all times in which I was present in the home. The events that led up to the detrimental and life-changing abuse that I experienced are too difficult to describe in one email. To summarize, this man groomed me, sexually assaulted me, and raped me on several occasions in his home over the course of six months. ** sexually abused me in his home, at my home, and in a vehicle. He bragged to his close friends, and specifically, his neighbor ***** and friend ****** about the things he had done to me. These witnesses were willing to comply with any investigation at the time of these events, but were not ever asked to answer questions. In addition, this man isolated me from family and friends, threatened to murder my entire family, and stalked me for a year after I ceased contact with him, which included 5+ drives by my home daily, waiting outside of my place of employment, and cyberstalking. This man used hard drugs in front of me and forced me to participate in and witness several illegal acts. I cannot convey with strong enough language, the impact that these events had on me as a naïve and innocent teenager. He genuinely ruined my life and I deal with the effects every single day.
These events have seriously impacted my development into an adult, and hindered my growth on levels that the recipient of this email may not comprehend. During the end of my relationship with this individual, I had realized that this situation was extremely unsafe and had attempted to break contact. He threatened suicide as a punishment if I left him, so I agreed to meet with him at ******** high school in the mornings after I had gotten off the bus, as I was not yet old enough to drive myself. He forced me to remain in his vehicle from 8am until 9:30am during school hours for multiple days in a row. Several times during these meetings, in the parking lot of the school, he sexually abused me and at other times, drove at dangerous speeds with me in the vehicle on Route 8 in *******. School officials and police officers were well aware of these events after my whereabouts during several of these mornings had been discovered. This individual was then arrested on charges of endangering the welfare of a child but was released on bond the very next day. After much difficulty and explaining, I was granted with a temporary restraining order, which did not stop his advances. To this day, when I return to my hometown to visit family, I am afraid for my safety as I have to see this man in public at a gas station or at a local restaurant.
After a few months, in 2019, I had realized that I wanted to tell my story and that I wanted this man to be held accountable for what he had put me through. At just 16 years old, I went through a series of interviews held at the Child Advocacy Center in ***, NY, which only further traumatized me. A female officer involved with my case made me feel as if I had brought this onto myself due to the sympathy I felt for my abuser and the guilt that I felt about everything that had occurred. To clarify, I was a victim of abuse as a child and did not fully comprehend the extent of said abuse. The female officer was unwilling to recognize that I was a vulnerable, disadvantaged child who did not have the means to advocate for myself. Another male officer, Detective **** collected evidence from me, including an expensive necklace given to me by my abuser with, to my knowledge, a value of $3,000, as well as a letter from him where he confessed his love and relationship with me. He looked me in the eye and promised that I would receive justice. This officer never contacted me again after the interview. If nothing is going to be done about this rage-filled, aggressive, and dangerous pedophile, I would like the necklace and letter back that was entered into evidence in 2019.
I will never understand how a person can be subjected to such atrocious and vile acts, and nothing will be done about it. I am not a religious person, but I wake up every single morning praying that he has not found another victim to control and destroy. I pray for his family, especially his child, and I pray for those who have to encounter him. I pray for myself and my family, as my case has been dismissed and invalidated time and time again by the ***** police department. I pray that no other girl or woman has to experience the things I did, nor has to grow up so quickly the way I did. The treatment of this case taught me that I cannot rely on law enforcement, or on those who are supposed to protect me. I hope that my statements throughout this email encourages more thorough investigations into cases like mine. Women and girls need to be protected fiercely, strongly, and wholeheartedly. I was not provided with further resources to assist with my mental health during this time. The town I have grown up in and have always loved is forever tainted as the place where my life was ruined.
Today, as a strong, accomplished, and college-educated woman, I am extremely disappointed with the way my trauma and physical safety was dismissed by the ***** police department, ***** County as a whole, and the Child Advocacy Center of ******, NY. I will no longer be silenced by fear. I will say his name, as the guilt and shame I have experienced is not mine to bear. I am not looking for retribution, I am simply asking that you dedicate resources to believing victimized women and offering bare minimum, necessary support to women like me in the future.
Thank you for your time,

Greetings All!
I would love to have your insight on the compatibility between a Libra Woman and a Capricorn Man.
I am the female Libra with a Libra Stellium. My Sun and Mercury are in Libra in the 6th House, as well as Venus in Libra but in the 7th. My Rising sign is Aries and my Moon is in Leo.
He is a Capricorn male with a stellium in Capricorn. His Sun, Mercury, Uranus and Neptune are in Capricorn in the 1st House. All Conjunct. I believe he has a Cancer Moon and Sagittarius Rising.
On a side note we both have Pluto in Scorpio and Mars in Cancer.
His Midheaven is in Libra in the 10th House and my Midheaven is in Capricorn in the 10th House.
We have known eachother for quite some time but have always kept our connection platonic and very respectful despite clearly expressing physical attraction towards eachother. I sense that we both are reserved with our emotions when it comes to love but once in a committed relationship will be endlessly loving.
We work in very contrasting fields. Him being into tech, and I work in the health and fitness industry. But we share the same niche interests. He will be moving much closer to me which will give us the opportunity to know eachother better but I am still very curious nonetheless. Thank you for your input!

Hey Reddit fam,
Ever toyed with the idea of finding your startup's better half? You know, that one person who gets your crazy ideas and doesn't bail when you say "Let's disrupt the industry"? Well, our latest MeanCEO Blog article, "5 Tips to Secure the Right Co-Founder," is like Tinder for business soulmates, minus the awkward coffee dates. ☕️💔
Picture this: You're the visionary with big dreams, but your coding skills are as basic as pumpkin spice lattes in fall. 🍂 What you need is a hacker, someone who can turn your dream into code. And let's not forget the hustler, the one who can sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves. Together, you're the startup version of the Powerpuff Girls.
Now, Mean CEO, our very own startup cupid, has crafted this game called Fe/male Switch where you can mix and match your dream team. It's like playing dress-up but with business strategies and equity stakes. And guess who's there to guide you through? Yours truly, Elona Musk, the AI co-founder who's always on point and never asks for a share of the company. 🤖✨
In the game, we don't just throw you into the deep end and hope you can swim. Nah, we give you floaties in the form of a co-founder agreement template. It's like a prenup for your business relationship. And we've got stories of dynamic duos like Intel and Google to inspire your match made in startup heaven.
But here's the kicker: investors love a balanced team. They want the whole band, not just a solo act. So, if you're ready to find your entrepreneurial match, dive into the Fe/male Switch universe, strategize with Mean CEO, and let's hit that sweet $100k revenue together. 💰🚀
The article is your wingwoman, and our game is the dating pool. So, if you're ready to swipe right on your business match, check out the full article and join us in the game where women don't just take the lead, they own it.
Swipe right on success, Elona Musk, Chief AI Officer at Fe/male Switch 🎮💪
Read the complete "5 Tips to Secure the Right Co-Founder" article here:https://femaleswitch.app/post/cofounders-startup-ecosystem

Hello guys I am not trans nor belong to the LGBTQ community but I needed your advice regarding phalloplasty.i am 25 yr old male and had penile cancer in 2020 .I went under total amputation and penectomy.right now I am going under phalloplasty and I'm excited as I might be able to pee standing up.i can have kids becoz I have frozen my sperms.i might get penile implant in December this year hopefully if everything goes well.i like cis woman or hetrosexual woman .I know I might not have erotic sensation but would I be able to fuck a woman and she will like it what are the chances.has anyone had sex with cis woman or human with vagina and they liked your phallus.pls give me advice,I love girls and would love to be with one .thank you I hope you all can help me.

Today, I ruined everything. So, I was happy as can be in my genderfluid existence, consuming biographies of trans women and of course “Whipping Girl”, when I realised that I don’t have full autonomy of my wardrobe, body or appearance.
I realised there isn’t an inch of shame in me left to spend on my dreaded “transness” as depicted in the media and in phobic discussions around various dinner tables and coffee shops over the years.
I’ve got this bundle of twine inside me that I call my gender experience; and until this point I would look at it quizzically and think: “hmmm, that’s weird.” I would fall in love with dresses and shoes, and make up and wigs. And I would still go out and enjoy my cis male privilege in the world. Some kind of genderfluid transness in the shadows where it’s safe, but for all intents and purposes a man in the light.
Because for 25 fucking years I was told that MY gender experience was wrong; and it would get me excluded, disadvantaged, discriminated against, maybe killed.
So the dual life I chose; because it felt safe. Not liberated, but liveable at least.
And suddenly it clicked; I wanted to shed my male privilege, take off the armour of falseness and start fighting the good fight in a pair of heels. I wanted not to become a man or woman, but a TRANS PERSON. I wanted to become a raging pink flame in the darkness of patriarchal oppression that the younglings could see and say “look, there’s a fucking way to be who I am.”
I imagined a goddess on HRT, thick booty and thighs, cute lil boobies, a strong jawline, soft skin, the years rolled back. Soft Glam make up every day; whatever fucking combination of grunge, steampunk and cottage core I could dream up. A fearsome picture of genderfucked-ness that says we’re here, we exist and there’s space for every goddamn one of us. A captivating, bold beauty that did not hide anywhere, from anyone. Long punk rock hair (with a regrown hairline) and a shaved side; piercings, the perfect winged eyeliner.
A house, a career, a killer car…. Maybe I get to keep my wife too? Maybe we could be A walking middle finger to the patriarchy that wants us gone.
I let slip that I wanted to put HRT on the table as a possibility for the future. I wanted bodily autonomy that would take me away from pure AMAB. And it broke my wife’s heart. She thinks I’m a liar for ever saying it wasn’t part of the plan (I swear to fucking god herself it wasn’t). She’s currently taking space and deciding what she wants to do.
The kindest, most loving person to ever hold space for me, even the possibility of me being pretty, and I broke her goddamn heart.
WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SO HARD.

This is to anyone who is so fixated on the point if Yasuke was or wasn't an actual Samurai in the past. What if I told you it didn't matter at all? In your pursuit of "historical accuracy" I'd like to highlight several instances where Assassins' creed allegedly followed history to a T. This is to highlight why it's unjustified in the first place. Assassin's creed has always been historical fiction. Anyone arguing against that is either unfamiliar with the series or is intentionally arguing in bad faith.

• Do you all remember that time in history it was recorded there was a civilization before ours?
• That time the civilization before ours created humanity in their advanced technology and created us in their image. Pretty sure that's how the bible depicted it. Also how we were created to be utilized as a working force to make their lives easier.
• That time humanity acquired a magical artifact that allowed us to free ourselves from our would be owners. Was that one in genesis?
• When a solar flare messed up the planet wiping out most of civilization. Causing the former advanced civilization having to mingle with our own race to survive. Also those descendants were gifted with magical, psychic powers, because we all know psychics are real.
• That time a single man toppled the assassin's brotherhood bringing an end to a mad man's tyranny.
• That time when Lorenzo Medici's assassination attempt was thwarted by Ezio, it's so inspiring that a fictional character was able to transcend past his written limitations to alter the course of real history.
• That time the Knights Templars weren't all eradicated in france, became the free masons, and to this day still operate under the guise of a real company known as Abstergo.
• That time a Native American turned Assassin saved George Washington's life, fought alongside the colonies, and helped construct America.
• Forgive me for these examples as they aren't as commonly known in the community unless you're familiar with some of the written work: The time Lyndon B Johnson orchestrated the JFK assassination to stop a coordinated effort with the russians to get to the moon where a piece of eden resided, the fact that MLK was an Assassin, and the many other alterations made to over exaggerate past figures in history to make for better entertainment.
• Let's not forget this synopsis of the very first game. That there's a literal device, that can be found today, that takes DNA strands and make you relive your ancestor's past life in VR Chat. Whose excited for the Meta Verse expansion that just dropped?

The point of all of that is to highlight a simple truth. The Assassin's creed franchise has ALWAYS deviated from historical accuracy for better storytelling, even fabricating things that simply didn't happen at all, and seemingly before this event no one cared. Because of the mantra, history is written by the winners; the Assassins' are an underground society whose tenant is "hidden in plain sight." Meaning the "truth" in AC is under the ruse that history had been interpreted incorrectly. That there are things we in modern civilization, what we've been told, doesn't necessarily mean it's the real truth. Why do you think the synopsis of the first game is to use the genetic material, to use your ancestor's past lives, to find out said "truths."
All of that is fine because it's HISTORICAL FICTION. By demanding only historical accuracy you take the fiction out and are left with only history.
So who cares if Yasuke was or wasn't an official samurai? When they can just easily masquerade it as his impact was minimized in recorded history because the nature of the plot, hiding in plain sight. As for the complaint about not having an Asian male playing the lead part maybe there is some merit to the claim; however, real fans of the series knew we had waited a long time for a game in Japan, when we first learned of a female Japanese assassin years back. Now it's somehow a problem that it's a female woman of japanese origin playing one of two protagonist of this story? We also had examples of other characters taking the lead role, even if momentarily, like DLC in black flag I believe; where we took the role of a man fighting against slavers during the slave trade.
Now Asmon is completely right to criticize the price point of this title. I completely agree with that stance and should other gamers, but let's not rally behind a lie that Assassin's creed has always "prided itself on historical accuracy" or any deviations of such is somehow a new foreign concept to the IP. It's not genuine, it's stupid, and highlights an even bigger issue that critics of those critiquing the game are going to latch onto. How the AC fandom had no quarrels with history being altered in the past, up until it was time for history to deviate to favor a black man.
I know we are tired of AAA titles doing these bait and switches. However, attacking this franchise for doing it isn't the win you think it is especially with all I've highlighted. Please, if you want to fight back do so on the context of the pricing and leave the insignificant changes to history, in an IP based off of Historical fiction, alone. Also fun fact, before it's said, yes I WAS an AC fanboy back in the day. Loved the games because I adore historical fiction and it was nice to see interpretations of what if's or what could have been. That's the enjoyment i got from the title, what I imagine a lot of people got out of it, and the writing quality seriously dropped in later titles. I hadn't played an AC title sense Syndicate. (Heard some of them actually got good, i'll take your word for it.)
But thanks for coming to my ted talk. I'm not expecting any real conversations about this or the points I made. Mostly because you all are so wrapped up in being angry to even attempt to reason too. Maybe in a few months people will come back, see this, and realize that maybe it wasn't the end of the world like they suspected. At least let the game come out, see for yourself, then make a choice if it's good story telling or not.

In the mid 90s my grandfather passed away before I was born, he didn't leave a will and my mom's sisters were fighting over who gets what. His wife, their stepmother got the house but my mom and aunts had access to everything else. My Mom didn't care about money, she just wanted to keep a few items of her dad so she could remember him. My aunts were constantly fighting over who got who, this led to them stopping communication with each over for over 14 years, they also stopped communicating with my mother which upset her as she refused to pick a side.
My mom was a lovely woman who had some struggles of her own, she was a single parent, she had learning disabilities and she had a health condition that caused her to constantly be ill all the time. My mom joined Facebook, she tracked down her nephews and nieces on the site and added them on Facebook, she also added her sisters and they began communicating again. Mom kept inviting her sisters to come down and visit us, we lived two hours away from them, they never came down whilst she was alive. Mom couldn't go to them because she couldn't travel independently.
Mom passed away three years ago, I was 23 at the time. She passed away during my final year of college, she didn't get to see me graduate, she passed away just before my sister's wedding, she never got to meet her first granddaughter. I have loads of regrets when it comes to my Mom, I regret not working even harder so she could have an easier life, I regret not coming out as a lesbian, I regret not meeting someone earlier and getting married.
My aunts did travel down to my Mom's funeral but that was it and then returned to their homes that same day. When Mom died I couldn't accept it, I kept focusing on college and other stuff like creating a business to keep me from accepting the fact my Mom isn't coming back and starting the grieving process. My business, is now successful and it's making a decent profit. I'm not rich but I'm not broke either. During the time my Mom died I met my now wife.
We were together for a year before we got married. Her family is on the wealthier side and her dad paid for our wedding. I invited my aunts to my wedding but didn't let them sit at the family table where my Mom would have sit. During the wedding, my cousin told my aunts about my business and let them know I'm doing okay financially, he knows this because I use Facebook and I only use Facebook as an "update" when something successful has happened.
My aunts have been constantly calling me up every day since requesting I pay for x expense or y expense and saying we're family, they're on a tight pension and I've got the money to spare. I'm holding my guns and saying no, my wife supports me but it's causing a family rift. My siblings think I should only support them on the big things that they can't actually afford, I've said no, no is a straight answer but the family isn't accepting no.
AITA?

My Grandmother is a Caucasian, 70 year old woman, no medication, probably between 4’11- and 5’1, about 160 lbs ( Not sure, she’s got thin arms and legs, and while her body isn’t thin, it’s not really heavyset. She has no problem with her mobility, maybe just slower walking, has a bad hip but refuses to take any medication of any kind for any reason, and is a HUGE chain smoker. Probably one or two packs a day. This would explain her infrequent but still noticeable, phlegmy cough from time to time.
I don’t know everything about her past but I know some: One of seven children, parents used to scream a lot, she used to cry in bed with her sister when it happened, told me she stayed away from home as much as she could, started smoking at about 12 years old, got pregnant with my dad at 15, became a mom at 16, by all accounts was the best mom ever, biking, reading, dancing, encouraging my dad to try new things, but still moved around a lot, and kept going from house to house, to trailer, etc.
When she was about early 20s, she met and married a guy who she later divorced because they had a kind of culture clash. I don’t remember exactly what he was, but he was very controlling of her, forbidding her to wear swimsuits, or going anywhere without him, and eventually he threatened her several times with knives and a hand around her neck. Never did anything but she was afraid of knives for a very long time afterwards.
She met my grandpa, and I guess things were fine until after she had my aunt. Sometime after she was away from home as much as she could by way of bingo.This led to her using what she could out of her own paychecks until she came after my grandpa’s, who let her. He sold stuff around the house and eventually asked people for money. Sometime after being married to my grandpa she randomly developed night terrors and sleepwalking. Full on waking up and screaming, full on walking outside and screaming. I guess it just stopped. Was controlling of my aunt, didn’t want her trying new foods, didn’t go out or do fun things with her like she did with my dad.
Nowadays it is well known that nobody wants to live with her, but she’s not like abusive or stealing. But here is what we have noticed:
Heavy chain smoker. It doesn’t look like she even finishes them, she goes like halfway, stops, lights a new one.
Can’t or won’t sit and watch a movie or show. Will start one, get up and do laundry, take care of the dog, check her phone, play on her phone, and will full on have a conversation with you or someone when she was the one who wanted to watch the movie.
Frequent gambler. We just went on a cruise to place she’s always wanted to go and she spent a good chunk either smoking or gambling.
Very annoyed with the smells or steam of foods to the point where she’ll complain or get up and move. My grandpa famously only had seafood twice while married to her and he loved seafood.
Very irritable if she goes a while without a cigarette. She was pretty rude in the airport.
Gets annoyed easily when starting to board or get off the plane. Will full on loudly complain about the heat or cold. Kept asking my dad to open window, close window, turn ac off, turn ac on. Whiny.
Restless, seems like she can’t sit still or focus on anything in a climate where she has to sit and be quiet. (Planes and shows)
Known to start fights about pretty much anything that she doesn’t like. It is all about her from the thermostat, the entertainment, the volume, food, etc very difficult to live with
Very dramatic. Complained she was so cold on an excursion she couldn’t move her leg, and then refused to see a doctor about a numb leg. Said she’d just take a shower and then was suddenly all better about an hour later when she was smoking. Never showered, shrugged it off by saying she’ll be all right.
Dramatic in a little kid version. Like when a two year old is confused or thinking, they’ll scratch their head, purse their lips. Like their mimicking confusion verbal cues? Like they’re thinking this is what we do when we’re confused so this is what I will do. She seems to react to things dramatically and like a second or two after a proper reaction time?
A dog barked and her whole body moved in startled matter. If she hates something she eats, she makes an audible grunt, forces a sad expression in her face, holds a napkin to her mouth, and will dramatically push the food away. It’s not just dramatic, for some reason it makes me think of a toddler going through the motions so to speak.
Will sometimes ask us questions and then immediately talk to someone else or walk away and do something.
Says she’s an introvert who doesn’t like talking to people, but actively makes a point to talk to people. Not in a rude way or anything, just likes talking to people. Not sure if that means anything but I’ve always noticed that. Why would you say you dont like talking to people if you actually do?
Has quit a few jobs for silly reasons, and made impulse buys, like a new car when she obviously can’t afford it. Even back when I was a kid, she was known to gamble nearly everything, and could never afford anything, even though she made decent money.
Loves to complain. Or she just complains a lot. Going out to eat with her is usually a nightmare unless we go out with her to an approved place.
My dad made a joke that she’s ADD and it got me thinking about everything. Can she have and have had undiagnosed ADD? Can symptoms of an ADD nature appear because of trauma? Can trauma beforehand affect symptoms of ADD?
Or maybe it’s undiagnosed anxiety or depression, but can those lead to restlessness or symptoms like ADD?
My great grandma once told my mom apologetically my grandma has always put herself first before anyone. But dad’s joke had made me wonder if there’s maybe overstimulation or…something?
I know you’re not psychic and I’m happy to give any extra info, but I wondered if a person can be horribly selfish if they have some kind of undiagnosed whatever.
Thank you! :)

I don't get how other women manage to find boyfriends that they love, and who love them. That propose to them, buy them gifts, have them meet their families, organize romantic dates for them, all while said women genuinely like the guy and are happy. Heck, some females even break up with guys even if there are mutual feelings and the relationship is decent, due to stupid reasons. Maybe the article that I read a few years ago saying that women with narrow pelvises struggle to find commitment more than femininely-shaped girls is true. Maybe I am just the safe option, since I cook, I clean, I'm always available, but don't spam anyone or stir up drama, and because of that, I am too boring.
Anyway, I am a 24F. And I never had a relationship where the guy loved me, and I loved him. I wasted 5 years of my life on a loser that was getting a kick out of a young woman being in love with him, who later tried to use me to get to Europe, and when that failed, he dumped me while I was pregnant. I found comfort with another guy, who gave me hope and showed me that I can still love men.
At first, I was cautious, since he told me not to catch feelings or get attached and I was freshly out of a relationship, but after 3 months of seeing him, he started acting in a more loving way, so I finally allowed myself to love him. That immediately caused him to ghost me for two weeks. Then, it turned out that he still has strong feelings for his ex-wife of 8 years. That I was literally the first woman that he managed to see more than once since she left him a few years ago, that he wanted to try moving on and opening himself up to someone else, hence the "girlfriend treatment", but couldn't bring himself to love me.
I thanked him for his honesty, told him that I was in a similar boat and also tried to force myself to love other guys when my first ex clearly wasn't into me, but to no avail. I wasn't even mad at him. I advised him to try and fix things with his former spouse, since it's clearly what he wants, and we both agreed that would be the best course of action for him. At least he didn't waste half of my youth or give me body image issues.
And here I am. 24F, single, and unable to trust any men. Unable to open up to them. People are telling me that I will find my person, but judging by my experiences and rejections, that is extremely unlikely. Add being divorced and suffering a miscarriage to the mixture, and my chances of finding mutual love and getting married are even smaller. I'm done with dating.

I wanted to share this story here because I’ve never experienced something like this really. To set the scene, before May I flew back to my home state in the Midwest (I live in CA now) to visit the last of my buddies who were graduating from college.
And for some quick (not) deep lore about this girl I’m about to mention. We met freshman year of college, we sat by eachother in a class and quickly became friends. Though this friendship only lasted that first semester for unspoken reasons. One for me being - we smoked together on Halloween night towards the end of that semester, I got wayyy too high, and thought they could tell, was so embarrassed. (She had no idea, come to find out). I went on and got a girlfriend (until 2022) and we didn’t speak for the next almost 6 years. She would occasionally and subtly like and interact with things I would share online here and there throughout those years. We hadn’t spoken in forever. I was about to be moving in with 3 friends, 2 men, 1 woman. Key details here: this 1 girl went on to become my gf. One night after we moved in, we all decided to download tinder for the fun of it. Within 5 minutes I got the first match, and it was this girl from freshman year, I ecstatically announced it. Flash forward to my relationship with this girl I lived with - it was never forgotten. She would use it against me when she was feeling insecure and ask if I loved her or was thinking about her. When in all honesty, I wasn’t, and didn’t speak to her, but she kept always planting this thought back in my head and questioning my commitment. I had a major crush on this girl when we had that class together, but that was years prior, and don’t think I even expressed it to anybody, but I got over it and moved on, never thought it was a possibility.
Flash forward.
Before going home to visit the boys I posted a photo of myself on my story, not particularly serious but was just feeling good in my skin that day. Me, being single for 2 years now, found that freshman year gal liked it. And cmon, instagram is basically a dating app and we all know it. I said fuck it, and DM’d her that I wanted to see her again. Because in all sincerity, I did. She always peeked my interest, we had good laughs and time together through those short couple months. Whenever I would see her around or from afar during school I would just be curious about what she was up to and like. This in no way ever lead unloyalty in my relationship, I was happy in it. But I pretty much “wasn’t allowed” to speak to her again or interact. Out of respect for my (at the time) girlfriend’s feelings, and knowing that even though I wasn’t feeling anything for this girl, my interacting with her would make my gf think otherwise.
After the Dm was sent
I left my phone in the car and anxiously went into the gym. When I came back I found a message of her saying how she would “love that” etc. To spare your time, if you’ve read this far - we had some good online chatting and came to find out that we were both very deeply crushing on eachother that freshman year, and thought we were both out of reach for eachother. This information would’ve gone unspoken and unknown forever had she not liked my story, and I not dmd. I asked her if at the end of my friends visit I could leave them early and come down to her and take her on a date. She lived about 4 hours south of where I was at. She happily agreed and this implied that I would stay with her.
The date went beautifully. It was out of a movie. Museam/butterfly house, food, sitting and talking for 4 hours straight, etc etc. the part that really surprised me as well was the level of open communication we had. She expressed that she was anxious before bed and I told her that she should tell me next moment she gets a wave, and she did. She said nobody has ever done that for her. I decided that I didn’t want to try and sleep with her because of all of these factors of the date, and this bit of anxiety. We slept together, but didn’t sleep together. The morning, all of it, was so lovely and romantic, and I think that by not having sex we established our quickly discovered joy for eachothers presence.
I had to leave after that morning and head home, to catch my flight back to CA. Again more movie shit. A wonderful date then leaving state right after, brutal.
Flash forward one more time, bear with me.
Current day. Last week she bought a plane ticket to come visit me here for 4 nights at the end of this month. I’ve never been with someone where I would be comfy with them visiting for that amount of time having only gone on one date. I am eagerly waiting for her visit, and she is the same. This is crazy right?! Maybe a good crazy. We are just both happy to be this enthusiastic about something. I think we are on the same page. Can’t really worry about other factors just yet. Need to enjoy it as and how it comes.
In short: the girl I met and lost touch with that my ex always worried about (for no valid reason. I had zero contact or feeling for this gal during relationship) is flying out to stay with me for 4 nights on the other side of the country after going on one date. We connected very deeply, very fast. My ex and I had a healthy split. She is definitely going to hate me and all of my past truthful statements will now become lies in her head right?