Gallivant are a London based perfumery creating ‘fragrance for urban explorers’. Their fragrances are all named after and inspired by big cities.
They currently have their 12 scents available as a sample set called the Nomad Discovery Set for £35, which includes credit for a full bottle. I read through all their scent descriptions and didn’t actually want the full set, so I only ordered 4. However, I’ve been sent a 10-sample set that doesn’t include Accra and Abu Dhabi. Probably extra stock of an older set so fair enough.
Their 30ml FBs are £70, and their 100 mls are £150.
These first four reviews are for the 4 fragrance samples I originally ordered (i.e I am more likely to enjoy them based on their notes and description)
Brooklyn

• bergamot, squeezed lemon and orange juice. Incense, cardamom, fresh air and ozonic notes
• magnolia, orris root and transparent flowers
• musks, white woods, benzoin, amber

I can't pick out invidual notes here, but I DO get the warmth on the skin vibes they are after! It’s gentle and soothing - I think there’s a faint vanilla in there. I wouldn’t call it ‘fizz on an urban playground’, more like a sunny balcony overlooking the street. It continues to be soft and gentle the whole way through wear, it’s very cuddly and I’d wear it to snuggle with my boyfriend. Compared to the others, it’s warm without as much incense.
Definitely on the skin scent side, but I don’t mind for how intimate it feels. It lasted on my skin past lunchtime, and my mom adored that it lasted all day on her clothes. This already feels hard to top.
Sister thinks it smells generic, but our baseline is mom’s perfume collection (she likes powdery scents). I guess it’s more like, it smells of mom in a good way. Like a comforting way.
I wore Brooklyn as my SOTD on the 8th May - a couple sprays on my left wrist. It's not a strong projector but it was still on my wrist after 6 hours.
Los Angeles.

• "Airy and aromatic in the opening with notes of eucalyptus, clary sage, mandarin and pineapple
• A floral heart with an absolute of narcissus and tuberose – a nod to the Mexican flavour of this city
• And a shimmering smoky woody base with cade, guaiac wood, nagarmotha / cypriol, musks and heliotrope"

I definitely get all three of these layers to the scent. An evening out on holiday. Classy, fun, little black dress and heels and having a night out on the town by the beach. It will cool you in a heatwave and warm you when there’s an evening chill. It doesn’t match me personality wise, but it’s still a nice scent! I will keep this sample for a night out.
Tel Aviv

• "clementine, bergamot, natural blackcurrant bud absolute
• jasmine sambac absolute, comoros’ ylang ylang, rose oil, freesia
• sandalwood, musks, deer’s tongue (liatrix) absolute, benzoin"

Lovely florals! Definitely on the rosy side. Sweet (but not overly so!) and sunny. This projects a bit more than the other three I picked. Once the citrus fades out we’re left with an almost soapy floral mix.
Sis: smells like febreeze.
Tokyo

• yuzu, bergamot, black pepper and cardamom, electrified with a dash of wasabi
• A woody heart of hinoki, cedarwood, orris root, nutmeg, rose and incense.
• A base of amber, sandalwood, patchouli and vetiver

I’m hoping to visit Tokyo sometime not too far away, and the initial spray is kind of how I’d imagine it would smell? Once it hits the dry down it reminds me of a scent from Oud Attar - warm, woody, incense like. It’s not bad but not really my thing.
The following reviews are for the rest of the set (I.e. I wasn’t particularly drawn to them based on description, and would be surprised to get a hit out of these)
London

• cucumber, violet leaves
• rose de mai absolute, rose oil, orris root
• suede, leather, sandalwood, patchouli, cedarwood

Rosy, woody and leathery for sure! I wish the cucumber stuck around, that was really refreshing? What a cool and gritty scent. I get a ton of leather (I’ve never smelt leather in a fragrance, but I used to work in a shoe store and once the association clicked I was like WOAH, back room, men’s shoe shelves smell?? ). It’s not for me, but it really makes me feel like I’m one of the cool crowd, earning enough to live in London. (I realise I could say this about any other big city, but as a Brit and not a Londoner it was what I felt in my soul.)
Sister didn’t like it - it gets points for being accurate to London, but loses points for being London, haha!! Reminds her of dad’s colognes though...?
Naples

• Bergamot, pepper, ginger, salt
• incense
• clearwood, patchouli, vetiver, birch

Incense and patchouli really bring a warm and spicy feel forward here. It’s a touch aquatic too. There’s citrus in it, but I don’t really get it, unfortunately.
Istanbul

• "bergamot, cardamom, red thyme
• lavender absolute, egyptian geranium essence, patchouli heart, sweet myrrh (opoponax) essence
• sandalwood, vanilla, tonka bean, amber, musks"

I have no idea what’s goin on here but I’m surprised to find that I like this. A warm floral feel. Not something I’d like on myself though!
We are discovering sis’ licorice note she doesn't like is possibly cardamom.
Berlin

• "grapefruit, clementine, lemon and schinus molle CO2 extract
• A spicy heart containing black pepper and black tea and woody undertones of Haitian vetiver, cedarwood and patchouli"

It is what it is. Just as described, not really standing out. Sis says it smells discordant. The top notes are great, but the rest not so much.
Bukhara

• "caraway, pear, coriander and bergamot
• A floral woody heart with orris, ambrette, osmanthus and a touch of jasmine. Clove and apricot enrich the colours and textures
• And a base of benzoin resin, saffron, amber, wood and cotton-soft musks. And Ralf's transparent silk accord (one of the first things he ever created at perfume school)"

sis says it’s a hotel reception smell. I say it’s like a hotel with a spa in it. Then she says it develops into a an orthodontist waiting room.
Gdansk

• "plum, honey, cardamom, nutmeg and saffron
• A rich, woody heart with leather notes, cistus absolute, sustainable sandalwood oil from New Caledonia, patchouli, and incense resinoid – with a light touch of rose
• And a deep, earthy, smoky ambery base of tobacco absolute, cypriol, styrax (liquidambar), vanilla, musks and ambergris ( we use a plant-derived substitute, no animal by-products )"

an autumnal scent. I don’t really have much to say about this one! For many of these scents it's just been a lot of incense and there's only so many ways I can tell you I'm not a fan.
Sister's ranking:

1. Gdansk
2. Los angeles
3. Naples
4. London
5. Tel aviv
6. Tokyo
7. Berlin and istanbul
8. Brooklyn
9. Bukhara

Overall - Their blends seem to be gentle enough to my nose (I.e, I wasn’t immediately repulsed by any). My sister felt that the scents transitioned much faster than other sets we tried. It smells as if there’s incense in many of them to give that warm and spicy feel, which I don’t tend to like in fragrances at the moment. But I can understand how, with their goal of travelling via scent, incense becomes a realistic and homely and cultural link.
As a set, it’s like the opposite of the Saltworks Company Fresh Experience set (cool and fresh vs warm and spiced). It’s less a holiday, less touristy and more backpacking across the world to meet new people and broaden your horizons. It’s the smells you get when you don’t stay in a hotel but are welcomed into someone else’s home. You’re not wearing these for beast mode projection, but because it’s reminding you of something nice. They do last well, over 6 hours on me for quite a few of them.
FB worthy? As of now I’ve actually bought a small bottle of Brooklyn for my mom and I to share as we loved it so much. Neither of us have been to Brooklyn, though.
Next on my trial sets to try is Floral Street. At some point soon I'll have to destash my samples (if you're UK based... 👀)!
Let me know if you've tried this brand! What other sets would you suggest for me to try next?

When i (15) was 4 my dad had an affair when my brother(11) was going to be born in 2 weeks and my mum found out ,so they split up , about a year later my mum met my stepdad on a dating website , I met him and his daughter who was a year older than me , we hit it off (me and my soon to be step sister) and she kissed me and my step dad walked in and starting shouting at an autistic 5 year old me, then he left with his daughter and my mum said nothing of it , 3 months later he moved it , ( I think it was because of my mum struggling to pay for her new born baby , as my father gives little to nothing for child support )my stepdad moved in bringing his smoking and alcohol into our house , as a kid I used to make noises like clicking my tounge or humming , two weeks later they where banned , he always drinks 5 strong bows a day leading him to be extremely moany and aggressive , the rest of these years are a blur , I Remeber my brother broke his tv mistakenly with a toy lightsaber I got for my 7 birthday , he walked into my room smashed my tv and my lightsaber in half and stormed out , at 8 my mum and stepdad got married , fast forward to about when I was 10 I got my new Nintendo switch which I worked tirelessly to get, 300 pounds for a 10 year old is a lot , my stepdad used to hide it in draws for no reason then one day he put it under a heavy object and it smashed , add of the previous stuff that was happening before Is still happening by the way. Fast forward to when I was 11 , he kicked me out on Christmas Day and my dad had to come and get me of the street , for me this is the lowest thing he has done . I lived with my dad for a month and my mum finally let me come home . When I turned thirteen things got so bad I started to self harm because he made everything my fault and blamed it on me and my mum did nothing because she is so scared .hes stull drinking and has just stopped smoking and started vaping at this point . Fast forward to a month ago and he gets let go from his job and starts to take it out on me , my mum if she where to give me any money it would have to be in secret and treats like chocolate or anything like that , I hated school because I was being bullied and started to refuse to get up and my mum would try and take my phone and I hid it so she got mad stormed off to work and then bottled her anger up and took it out on me when she got home and I accidentally bumped into her in the kitchen and my stepdad saw and grabbed me by the throat and started trying to punch me and I stared to punch him eventually my mum pulled us apart and he’s been treating me like the dirt on his shoe for years , this is the last straw today because I was unwell in the morning I wasn’t aloud to come to my brother birthday dinner and was left At home with just a sandwich then my cousin messaged me asking me to bring a canculator to him for his exam and I was telling my mum and he shut the door in my face.
I need opinions and wisdom
Feel free to ask anything

My parents have ruined my life through and through. They have raised me (23) with nothing while gave everything to my sister(26).
As kids she was their favourite and she studied really hard and did well academically in school, also took part in different sports and other activities. As I started growing up I did not put in the effort in studies, still scored more than her. My parents never allowed me to learn any sports or be part of any other activity.
For my sister, my parents would be there for everything while i had to do everything alone. They used to drop her off to her exams and wait 3 hours outside the centre in case she needs anything, She did well in her exams and got into the top 10, we were there for the entire day and supported her thoroughly. Throughout her school years, it was routine for my parents to take her to the school on weekends, interact with her teachers and make sure she's on the right track.
3 years later for me, they didn't even show up to school once after getting me admitted. Never once cared to meet my teachers or ask me how is school going. I used to walk alone to the school for my exams, i ended up ranked #1 in the school as well. My parents didn't have time to come to the graduation. I had to watch 2nd and 3rd ranked students get loved and celebrated by their families. While i just walked home alone, this time with a trophy.
Went and put it on the dining table, my mother yelled at me to put it away as I was letting the success get to my head. Not once did she say congratulations or well done or I'm proud of you.
My sister got into a college in the same city, and I remember my dad used to stay up at night with her helping her on her projects and assignments and he used to driver her to her college and back almost daily. It was 35 km away.
Meanwhile when I got into college in the same city 15 km from home , my father has been to my college only once that too for the admission. Never cared about my degree since. I had to use public transport everyday.
As for money, my sister used to get spending money from my parents and they bought her things all the time. I interned as a lawyer, earned some money but all of that would go in basic needs like travel, lunch , cheap clothes , cheap shoes and so on.
For my sister's college graduation, again the entire family went and celebrated with her. For me again it was me going to collect my degree, I didn't do well in college because I never had anything and it is fucking hard to function when you don't have a pair of shoes while your sister and your parents have dozens.
Whenever I asked to buy me something I was given the same lecture, money does not grow on trees, you don't value money, one day we'll die you will have to manage everything. While whenever my sister wanted something , my father would bring it to her as soon as practically possible.
I got into a great uni for master's on my own, while my parents had to pull strings and give money to get my sister into a master's course from a reputed uni.
I've secured a job as Assistant Professor, joining date is 21 July. My sister got placed as well, for about half as much as me.
And I cannot wait for this entire ordeal to end once and for all. I was finally going to have money, real money.
My sister is getting married soon, and my parents have now asked me to save from my salary and pay 1/4th of her wedding. Which will be roughly 3 months of my salary, and guess what my sister will not be paying for her own fucking wedding because she'd need that money to 'set things up', when her would be husband already has a house , a car and investments.
I am going to move in with my best friend, who has always been the one walking with me when my family time and time again abandoned me. I have decided that now it is time for me to abandon my family. I will stop caring about them , I will not pay a single cent for my sister's wedding. She should pay for her own wedding as she literally has no expenses after this. While i have to do everything on my own (till my parents die and I get their properties).

I don't even know where to get started. I'm mainly writing to get everything off my chest in a community of folks who may or may not have had similar experiences in the past or present. I'd also like to add that creepy, unexplainable things have always happened around me since I was a little kid. So, here it goes:
I moved into my apartment in September 2023. I've always felt comfortable and calm in my home. Besides my usual nightmares (always had them, generally not too scary), everything was copacetic. Either at the very end of December or January 2024, things started getting weird.
It's important to note I live alone in a 1 bedroom apartment. The first time something happened, I was sound asleep and was awoken to 3 knocks on my bedroom door at 3 am. I usually slept with the bedroom door open and just started closing it at night. It was loud and deliberate. I just told myself I'd imagined it and while I was very scared, I drifted back off to sleep. The next day I was on the phone with my sister and told her what happened. Out of curiosity I knocked on my bedroom door and it was the exact same sound.
Over the next few months I heard 3 knocks at my bedroom door, bathroom, or front door around 3 am, 1 am, or 11 pm. I even had a friend visit in March and he was awoken to 3 knocks at the front door at 1 am. Around this time is the first time I heard my daughter's 7-8 year old voice say "Mom?" next to my bed then again a couple weeks later behind me at the head of the bed. My daughter is 12 and lives full time with her dad, so I knew and told myself "that isn't my daughter". I also expierenced what sounded like claw scratches across my stand up heater across each metal section (looks like a radiator) when I was fully awake laying down in bed. Another time I was in bed and for a couple seconds smelt sulfur next to my bed and got up and left my bedroom. After this I took my first actions.
I have a favorite tarot readepsychic I found on (a popular social media app I can't type because it isn't allowed) last year when he was first starting out doing free readings. I was on his live the night after hearing my daughter and asked him and the 13 other people in the live for advice. Him and a few people suggested burning sage (I cannot because it would set off the smoke alarms in the building). Next suggested using sage incense, making loud claps all over the apartment, in the nooks and crannies, to break up energy and get it moving throughout the apartment. Lastly, to open a window and ask whatevewhoever is they to please leave through that designated window. I couldn't find sage incense at Walmart so I got a plug in wax warmer and picked up palo santo/sage wax melts. I went home and did the ritual and I didn't have disturbances for 3 weeks.
During this time, I started leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked, the bedroom door cracked, and the kitchen light on in the kitchen every night and slept with my winter hat with the top open for my hair as a face mask. Cut to Sunday night, I was woken up to the sound of wooden "pop!" hit the floor, like a staff or the wooden end of a broomstick next to my bed. I thought it was time to get up to go over to get my daughter up for school, but noticed it was completely dark outside. I had my hat over my eyes and told myself to stay calm and rolled over to pretend like I went back to sleep. A few minutes pass and I hear it again and this time feel the vibration on the floor (I sleep on an air mattress on the floor). I ignore it, then it happens 2 times in a row, I keep ignoring it, then it happens another 2 or 3 times in a row. I jump up and say "fuck this shit!" and dash to my living room, grab my purse, shoes, and leave my phone. When I got to the bottom floor I noticed it was 12:15 am. I slept over at my ex-fiances on the couch because I was so scared.
I go back to my apartment Monday night and start hearing a loud wooden "pop!" noise like when a house settles, but live in a concrete building and never heard it before. I was on the phone with a friend until midnight and kept hearing the loud crack/pop noise in the bedroom, kitchen, bathroom every 5-10 minutes for around 2 hours. I fell asleep on my papazon chair (ouch) because I was nervous about sleeping in my bedroom again and was woken to another pop at 2 am. I decided to just bite the bullet and fell asleep on my bed, but woke up every half hour or so, but no disturbances that I noticed. I left my apartment at 5:50 to get my daughter up.
I get back home at about 7am and decide I needed to take a nap from not getting a lot of sleep the last couple days and doze off at about 8 am. I was awoken at about 9 am to what sounded like a loud flick against the air mattress and I felt it, said "nope" and went to lay down (in a ball) on the papzon chair. I was woken up to the loud flick of the air mattress twice, then was awake and heard it again (like flick and air mattress moved). I decided I was leaving, packed up, wen to the bathroom and heard the same sound of the air mattress moving, got in my car and drove to my Dad's a hour in a half away, in part to see him, but mostly to get away from my apartment.
I'm still here now. I've told this all to my friend, sister, and Dad every step of the way and yesterday my therapist and peer support in detail. I'm nervous about being back at my apartment. I have so much fear in my heart and am just scared. I checked with my apartment manager today and no one has died in my apartment in the past. I called a local Catholic Church and left a voicemail with a preist to call me for guidance and hopefully meet up and discuss coming to my apartment with me. I have always been non-religous, but am open to anything at this point.
It's worth noting that I was having horrible, disgusting, wicked thoughts that were so bad I cannot tell anyone what they are because I don't want to be arrested when the disturbances started escalating.
Has anyone had similar experiences? How did you get them to stop? Do you now feel safe and secure in your home? Are you still living with (whatever) today?
Edit: I will not be checking this post while I'm at my apartment so fear of stirring up whatever is there. So my responses might be far between.

hello. this is Leaky.
ps subscribe if you love leaky: https://www.youtube.com/@LeakyArchives
i am here to correct everything OnThatNote shared yesterday. I've been speaking with multiple different sources way closer to Ye than his source.

• To start off, OTN's source was Chad Spencer from the yews team. Milo was responsible for putting together the yews team and thus everything Spencer shared to OTN basically came from Milo wanting to improve his image. (notice how everything said about the app makes it out like its all Ye's fault and Milo never did anything wrong). Also Chad along with Dan Schmidt and the entire yews team was fired, so Chad wouldn't have up to date information anyway, which is how we know he got told everything by Milo.
• Milo also has a huge problem with kanyesposts, hence why Chad re-told OTN about Kanye calling her a r*tard which actually never happened. Here's what actually went down:
  • Ye added Kanyesposts to a chat with dov charney and manufacturing bc he was confused why the numbers were not adding up re: merch sales/instagram ad revenue. Since none of his employees in the chat were replying to him, he asked Kanyesposts to give him the analytic report. Since she wasn’t working at the company she was confused why Ye was granting her access to this information or assumed she would have it, so she called Milo and he wrote her a reply to say to Ye saying she’d contact Dov for the info. Ye replied and said “don’t give me a r*tarded worthless answer just give me the numbers, I need every piece of info.” Then Kanyesposts made a joke to Milo and her friends about how it would be funny to have a tshirt that said Kanye west called me a r*tard, and Milo ran with that and told Julz Ye called her a r*tard. The whole situation was strange bc she wasn’t an employee and wasn’t sure why Ye didn’t have access to his own financial reports.
• Regarding Dov: there’s rumors now that Dov was hiding information from Ye and the company is doing an audit to see where the missing millions went The way the deal was structured was Ye was being paid by Dov, Yeezy.com was set up under Dov’s Shopify rather than Ye’s. Normally, Ye would be in charge and pay Dov as a vendor. Ye has always had a love/hate relationship with Dov and insiders say Dov is needed to finish the order fulfillment but an audit is being done. Clothing and apparel manufacturing is halted right now due to this situation.
• There is nothing big happening with shoes, this was a complete lie. Chad wouldn't know anything about apparel anyway since he was with yews AND was fired. Kanye is designing things still but nothing even close to what Chad and OTN were saying in the info dump yesterday. Nothing confirming rework of old adidas designs, no clue where that came from.
• The app situation is super messy. I think on all fronts it was a failure from every party including Milo and Yeezy but NOT the devs. Anything that is alleging blame on yeezy/Ye and not Milo is obviously propaganda from Milo to make him look good. App is just sitting now, it might get used in the future, it might not its up to Kanye. What is true is that MOST of the devs were not paid. There is not really any proof that Milo is doing EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to get people paid. Milo generally is only looking out for himself and what will get him farthest by taking advantage of people and improve his image / public reception. Milo's end goal is probably to be rehired at YZY so he's gonna manipulate and pull strings to try achieving that.
• Former staffers are asking for their jobs back, despite reports saying they wanted to leave.

Thank you for reading.
2024 no more cap info dumps we coming with real truth only.
dont forget to subscribe.

On the other I was working in my department when a lady told me there was a disruption in the meat aisle. As my manager was just in front of me I asked her to talk him. He came to see what was going on.
So, there was a lad in the middle of the aisle announcing himself as a vegan and harassing other customers, trying to prevent them to buy meat products. The manager started to talk to him and he got really shitty screaming things as "I'm vegan, I even wear vegan shoes, I don't use plastic bags when I'm shopping." The thing got hilarious when the manager asked him what his shoes were made of and he said VEGAN THINGS. He's now known as THE VEGAN

I have conducted a biomechanics assessment and I need to run SPSS on the data I have produced.
During the data collection there was one participant who ran using her shoes and also in barefoot. She ran in barefoot at 9kmph and shod at 9kmph. She ran barefoot at 12kmph and shod at 12kmph, she also ran at 14.4kmph in barefoot and 14.4kmph in shod.
I have all the necessary data just have no idea what I am to do.

One day, in the folds of time, a person was born in the city of Marrakesh. They all had many brothers, and they were poor and their condition was miserable and extremely poor. This person, whose name was Ibrahim, worked the entire summer to buy school supplies for the next year, and if his shoes were torn, Or he sewed his clothes, but he had no shoes, so his clothes were worn out and old. Ibrahim’s father was in the service, so he was absent from the house, not being with his family much. Days passed and Ibrahim grew up, so his father gave him two choices: either to go to the Education Academy to study and graduate as a professor, or to enter the service. The military, and this choice was not recommended by the father, Ibrahim, because he did not want his son to go through a difficult experience like him, but Ibrahim had an opinion and was very stubborn, so he chose military service, so he went, and after a few years he graduated with the rank of colonel, and at that time his mother proposed to him, a girl from the neighborhood in which he They lived in it, and at that time he married a son, and after that she became pregnant and they had a son, a male, and they named him Muhammad, and from here our story will begin. Muhammad was an ordinary child, and he studied well and excelled in his studies. He always went to the mosque in order to memorize the Qur’an, and he was not an honest, trustworthy child with good morals. He respected people and never insulted anyone. He was a pure and pure child. As the years passed, Muhammad grew up and took the baccalaureate degree. And all these years, Muhammad was influenced by the Islamic conquests and the personality of the Prophet Muhammad, may God bless him and grant him peace, and the Companions, may God be pleased with them, especially Omar ibn Al-Khattab and Ali bin Abi Talib, so he devoted himself to reading the biography of the Prophet and watching videos whose topics were Islam. The important thing is that we go back and said that Muhammad reached the age of 18 and did not find in Morocco job opportunities or even a good position, so he decided to immigrate to America like other young people, so he was registered in the American lottery and after a few months had passed. Acceptance came to him, and he was very happy because he would find a decent living and a decent life. But in reality, there is something else. The important thing is that Muhammad collected all the documents he would need and applied for the visa. Before and after that, he collected his beliefs and booked the plane ticket. On the night of the flight, he was so excited that he did not sleep a lot, and in the morning. He went to the airport, his parents said goodbye to him, and he went to the plane, and after hours he found himself in America, and the reality was something else. There were many racists, and they always insulted him with the name Muhammad because he idolized the Prophet Muhammad, may God bless him and grant him peace, and they even called the Messenger lustful, and he married Aisha for 6 years. And God forbid, as they curse the honorable companions, may God be pleased with them. The important thing is that Muhammad completed his studies in America and obtained several certificates, so he submitted his application to enter the police because he had just obtained American citizenship. The important thing is that he submitted his application and they approved it, so he took the written and physical test and passed it, so he passed them, and now Muhammad has become An official policeman for the state of Chicago, Muhammad was sincere in his work and dedicated to it. He always did not accept bribery and punished criminals severely. Years passed and Muhammad rose in his position and became in the anti-gang department. He became the one carrying out executions and began killing and exterminating everyone. Killer gangs because the state gives him the decision to kill them because they incite fear in people, kill them, and rape their daughters. Muhammad killed, or rather executed, thousands of people, and he exterminated hundreds of gangs from existence, and all the criminals feared him and were afraid to even mention his important name. Hours passed, and one day of the daysOne day, Muhammad found a volume containing the story of the revolution and the Soviet Union. He read it all and was influenced by revolutionary thought. He began to imagine himself as the king of the world, and he was one of the most supportive of the Palestinian cause. They always sent thousands of dollars to Palestinian associations, and Muhammad was stable even though he was stable. In America, but he hates its corrupt regime and the racism towards foreigners that is abundant in it, so Muhammad decided to go to Russia in order to settle there and submitted his application to Russian intelligence and gave up his service in America, but he still possessed American citizenship. The important thing is that Muhammad worked in Russian intelligence and began every day. It is getting more and more popular and everyone loves it until one day there was a parade for President Vladimir Putin And then Muhammad met President Putin, and Putin liked Muhammad’s personality and the way he treated and respected him, so he decided to hire him as his bodyguard, and Muhammad was very happy with this news. The next day, he started working with the president, and he accompanied him wherever he went. The president was subjected to a series of assassination attempts, and Muhammad was always He was his savior. Meanwhile, Muhammad became a loyal friend of Putin and became Vice President. One day, Putin became seriously ill, and when he was on his deathbed, he said goodbye to Muhammad. Muhammad was very affected by his death, but he moved forward and now he has become the President of the Republic of Russia, so it began. His ambitions to reshape the Soviet Union, so he began to forcefully occupy the countries that were on his side. He did not kill innocent people or women. He implemented the commandments of the Prophet Muhammad, may God bless him and grant him peace, to the letter. At this time, America began to threaten Muhammad that it would occupy Russia and destroy it. Muhammad was aware of this matter and was He planned in advance, as he intended to obey America and eliminate it, and the opportunity came to him. He restored the Soviet Union a hundred times stronger and stronger than it was during the era of Stalin and the other leaders. He only developed the nuclear arsenal and developed advanced weapons, and at this time Muhammad brought his father because He had experience in the army and gave him the position of first commander of the army staff, so his father trained the armyHis father was very strict, and he trained the soldiers very hard, and this would benefit them later. Muhammad also gave his grandfather the position of the chief president of all the central banks in the Soviet Union. He was the state’s accountant. All of the revenues of the Soviet Union passed through Muhammad’s grandfather. He also gave his great uncle the position of governor. He was in charge of all the car factories in the country, so he was in charge of all the car factories and all the companies. He was the president of them and the first factory because he had experience. He also entrusted him with the tasks of building power plants and manufacturing high-precision surveillance cameras. Muhammad gave his middle uncle the position of president of the iron and aluminum mining companies. All types of metal. He also gave his younger uncle the head of the taxi unions, as he is responsible for companies and all taxis and driving licenses for taxis, as well as their taxes. Muhammad also gave his younger uncle the position of head of the Ministry of Education and responsible for all schools in the country, as well as the head of the professors’ body. As he is responsible for the education and study sector, Muhammad also gave his great uncle the position of head of the body of lawyers, judges and courts in the state because his great uncle had more than 20 years of experience in the field. Muhammad also gave his other grandfather the position of head of arms manufacturing and export companies because his grandfather also had In military service, he had a lot of experience in questions, because this is all his specialty in politics Thanks to these positions that he gave to some members of his family, each of whom had great experience in the field in which he specialized, which helped the Soviet Union develop greatly and become stronger and stronger. At that time, Muhammad consulted his Soviet advisors and his father in his capacity as Supreme Commander. And the highest ranks of the army, intelligence, and security in the country. Ibrahim, Muhammad’s father, was the second most important authority in the country after his son Muhammad. The important thing is that after the long Shura period, Muhammad took the appropriate decision, so he bombed Washington, D.C., with a large nuclear bomb, which led to the erasure of Washington from the map and the destruction of the White House, so America rose. He responded with a nuclear missile, but Ibrahim, Muhammad's father, was able to dismantle it, repel it, and turn it towards America. From here, a fierce battle began between the Soviet Union and the United States of America. In the end, the Soviet Union was able to overthrow and eliminate America. It also occupied Canada and South America and brought it back. Alaska to Soviet ruleThe Soviet Union seized all the wealth of North and South America, and even Canada, and annexed them to the Soviet Union. Muhammad rebuilt America on the Soviet system, and even Canada and Brazil. The power of the Soviet Union increased 1,000 times, and the Soviet Union became the most powerful country in the world. Muhammad’s ambitions increased, so he occupied North Korea. He eliminated President Kim Jong-un and also occupied South Korea, Japan, and China. The thing that distinguished Muhammad was not killing innocent people. He only killed those participating in the war, and when he occupied the country, he rebuilt it and employed its citizens with a better salary than they had been, so everyone saluted him. There were also those who hated him, but they were very few. The important thing is that the Soviet Union became from the Republic of Russia to the most powerful country in history. Muhammad also liberated Palestine and gathered all the lions of the world and burned them, slaughtered them, and exterminated them from the globe. Only Muhammad eliminated all the Jews and it was Palestine. It was filled with ululations and joy at her liberation, and all the people were chanting the name Muhammad Muhammad and calling him Muhammad the Savior. Meanwhile, the grandfather of the first and second Muhammad died of old age, so Muhammad became very sad for them. At the funeral, someone poisoned Muhammad’s food with the most severe type of poison, and when he ate it, he choked and died. He almost died, but when he came out of the coma, the doctor told him while he was crying, “The poison has spread through your body, my lord Muhammad. You have only a few days left of your life.” Muhammad began to cry, but he was patient. Then Muhammad made his farewell conference in which he gave a speech and advised the people. When he dies, the rule will pass to his father, and when his father dies, it will pass to his great uncle, and this sequence will remainAfter a few days, Muhammad died and was buried in a grave of gold and diamonds. He became the most important figure in the world, so people began to visit him from all parts of the Soviet Union and even from the Arab countries. Millions of people visited him daily. As for him, when he died, power passed to him and he ruled with justice. Here the story of Muhammad has ended and has been folded between the pages of the past I forgot to mention that Muhammad was fighting with the soldiers, but he was covering his face with a mask so that the opponents would not recognize him and focus on him to kill him. If the president was killed, the Soviet Union would collapse. Muhammad was fighting with the soldiers and killing a lot of the enemy. He and his father were fighting, even though his father He was old, but he was stronger than Muhammad himself. Muhammad’s father was fighting 10 soldiers at the same time and killing them. Muhammad also occupied France, demolished the Eiffel Tower, and occupied almost all of Europe. Muhammad donated billions of dollars to Palestine until Palestine became very advanced and became a more ornate city. Muhammad also occupied Iran and exterminated the extremist Shiites. The one who poisoned Muhammad was a black man from Ethiopia, and the soldiers shot him dead when Muhammad died.Also, Muhammad could also have eliminated Morocco and wiped it from the map, but Muhammad did not want to do that out of respect for the Almoravids, Almohads, and Idrisids. When Muhammad died, power passed to his father and he began to rule the world. Muhammad’s tomb, built of pure gold and all precious stones, became a place of pilgrimage for millions of people every day, to the point that airports were filled with people and thousands of people were lining up in queues to obtain a visa. There were also thousands of people in the street chanting the name of Muhammad the Leader. The great and even they are queuing up to go to the Soviet capital, as there are people from far away places in the world such as Australia who go to the Soviet capital to visit the grave of Muhammad, and he was the most important and holiest person in the world after the Prophet Muhammad. And his companions, I am talking about his military clothes and weapons, all of them were sold for millions of dollars to Arab museums. As for the Soviet museums, they contain Muhammad’s necklace and his favorite weapon, and even the Soviet museum is crowded with people every day just to see its antiquities. Mohammed. Everyone loved him, so Muhammad became the second legend that history will not repeat. The first legend is the Prophet MuhammadWhen Muhammad died, they wrapped him in very advanced materials to prevent his body from decomposing. Muhammad's body did not decompose, but remained as it was. One of the materials used to preserve Muhammad's body was formalin, so Muhammad's body remained intact throughout the years.There are also some very wealthy Arabs who wanted to move Muhammad’s grave from the Soviet Union to Mecca in order to increase the state’s economy, but the entire world, billions of people, categorically refused, whether from within the Soviet Union or from outside it, and they wanted to buy his body for billions of dollars, but the entire world categorically refused. A wave of anger has erupted against Saudi Arabia because of this, because a person like Muhammad cannot be violated and his grave opened When Muhammad's father, Ibrahim, assumed power, and due to his old age, he was 61 years old. He found many difficulties because he found himself facing a great challenge in front of him, ruling millions of people. The Soviet Union, during Muhammad's era, was at the height of its power. He had sat on the throne of the most powerful country in history. Only the area of the Soviet Union was estimated at 400 million kilometers, so Ibrahim had to make a lot of effort, and in some of the Union’s colonies, some civil wars broke out between supporters of Muhammad and his supporters and among those who hated him, as most of those who hated Muhammad were from Central Europe, from the Greek islands and elsewhere. Next to it was the leader of the movement named Johann Gospiel. The latter sought revenge on Muhammad’s followers, and they all wanted to kill Ibrahim and destroy the Soviet Union. He was very hateful, and events will show you why the latter was so hateful of Muhammad and the main family. We will go back in time a little to when Muhammad committed mischief. America and occupied North and South Korea. His ambitions began in Europe, and he started with Italy, so he overthrew it, even though he respected Mussolini, the Italian fascist leader, but Muhammad’s ambitions were to occupy all of Europe, so he occupied Italy, eliminated its leader, and demolished all the ancient Roman idols and gods, and when he headed to occupy the Vatican. Muhammad remembered the words of the Prophet Muhammad, may God bless him and grant him peace, at the sign of the Hour, that in the Vatican there is the staff of Moses and the Thapoth of the Covenant, according to what the commentators and hadith scholars say, so Muhammad retreated.With his army, he went to occupy Greece and wanted to destroy Athens. He met the other army, headed by Johann Gaspiel's brother, called Nicholas Gaspiel. The two armies faced each other. Nicholas' army consisted of 45,000 tanks, a fleet of planes, and 980,000 soldiers, while Muhammad had 60,000 tanks. 2 million soldiers, and the two armies faced each other at the famous Evros River in Greece. The war began, and it was so bloody that the Evros River was filled to the brim with corpses and its color became red with blood. Muhammad was killing the enemies, and his father Ibrahim was also fighting, as he was 51 years old and he was very strong. Stronger than Muhammad himself. The important thing was that Muhammad was fighting. He tore off his mask. Nicholas the commander saw him and said: Here you are, Muhammad. I swear to Zeus, Poseidon, and Athena that you will not survive today. Medusa's curse will fall on you. Today I will hang your head before the gods. Muhammad did not answer him verbally, so his response was to arrest him, cut off his head, and hang his body on a treeThey continued fighting for several hours, and Muhammad was able to eliminate the entire army and occupied Greece at five in the morning. He prayed dawn in the city and began his entry with the soldiers. 200,000 soldiers had died in the war. Muhammad made a broadcast on television and consoled all the families and gave them a salary. For life and huge sums of money. The important thing is that Muhammad passed by the fields and saw some peasants. When they saw him, one of them called out and said, “Where is Muhammad?” Muhammad said to him, “Here is Muhammad.” The man came to him and hugged him and said, “O Muhammad, we have been saved from a tyrant who was torturing us and making our lives miserable.” Nicholas Gaspiel) and gave Muhammad some apples and lemons, so Muhammad bought 300 cows from him and the soldiers slaughtered them, so they ate until their stomachs were full and they slept that night while Muhammad was standing praying. This is just going back in time to explain to you why Johann Gaspial hates Muhammad.Johann Gaspel was telling his experience when he saw Muhammad and saying when Muhammad conquered all of Greece, and the people were chanting his name. I said that Muhammad was not killing ordinary citizens and women because he was carrying out the orders of the Prophet Muhammad and his law of war. Johan Gaspel was 12 years old. He said: “I saw large crowds chanting the name of Muhammad, then I was looking out the window, and suddenly I saw Muhammad passing in front of me and hundreds of thousands of people.” Behind him were hundreds of thousands of soldiers armed with the most modern weapons in the world. He said that Muhammad was strong, broad-chested, not more than 180 centimeters tall, and had a black beard, black hair, and brown eyes. Dark brown, and when Johann saw him, he felt an unusual tremor and said that Muhammad was a person that everyone feared
This is a fictional story written by me. Give me your opinion in the comments

It’s been a long time I wanted to submit this story to the Potato Queen herself!
It’s a long story, actually it’s two stories in one, because as it involves the same person over more than decade long, it’s worth telling the whole story all at once (and it makes it may more fun too!). I decided to share it because it’s the kind of story that doesn’t seem to happen very often.
Below you will find goodies about an ex, a wedding, a dress, a delivery company and more! Please simply be mindful English is not my first language, trying my best to entertain you all the same.
This story goes back a long way, when (let’s name him) Frank (M) and myself (F) were both in college (both 17 at the time, we’re now 33), young and naive teenagers. We started as friends and eventually decided to be together. We then decided to move to another city together, as I was about to start university.
It went well for a while and then started to go south. So, long story short, after about two years together, we decided to break up. It wasn’t a mean breakup or anything, I think we were mostly disappointed it didn’t work out. Anyway.
We live in the province of Quebec. For those who don’t know, there is this weird tradition of starting and ending about any lease on July 1st. I have no idea why, but Canada’s Day has always been for anybody moving, in this province, a synonym of sweating under the sun, moving boxes, lifting heavy things and ending the day with cold beer and cheap pizza in a new and probably not so clean apartment. Why this context? Because we broke up two weeks before July 1st. It means it was virtually impossible to find another apartment so close to this date. We were about 7 hours away from both our families living on the countryside. We were also awfully broke students. We decided to give it a chance at being roommates.
Yes, it was super awkward at first, really not easy to manage to say the least. We were walking on eggshells and were definitely on edge for a while. There were also some pretty awkward situations, like this one time he decided to bring a one night home as I was sleeping in the adjacent room. Not only that, but the shameful phone call he had to make, waking me up in the middle of the night, so I could unlock the front door because he had forgotten his keys to find out he had brought home an acquaintance of mine. Nowadays I find this story delightfully funny tbh. But on that night, as I couldn’t go back to sleep because the gal decided to show off how an amazing singer she could have been —because, oh boy, this voice carried loudly all the way to my ears for more than an hour — I did not find it funny. I was furious, but prepared myself for the eventuality it would ever happen again. Do you remember the “Tiny Wall Challenges”? Let’s just say I had some games ideas after that night.
Anyway, anybody would probably have walked away but we still deeply cared for each other. We even did better than just survive through this whole year as roommates, we decided to move into a bigger apartment with two other friends. Believe it or not, we stayed there two more years. Moreover, these years were some of the best years and I still keep lots of good memories from this period.
Fast forward to the second part of the story. After being roommates for years, at some point we parted ways and lived our lives. We maintained contact throughout the years and when Frank finally started dating his wife to be, I was absolutely happy for him. He asked her to marry him and she said yes! Our friendship still held such a high place in both our hearts that he asked me to be one of his groomsmen, with his other best friend and his little brother. I felt so honoured, as I was technically a female, to be chosen to be on his side at the wedding.
The bridesmaids chose matching dresses in a beautiful forest green, all from a specialized website from UK, and I was to also be in a dress on the groom’s side, but matching the colour of the other groomsmen suits. With Frank, We all shopped together for their suits, chose a beautiful dark grey for his and a light grey for us, and we were able to match it perfectly with clothing samples I ordered from the website. Everything was going as planned. That being done, I ordered the dress, considering buying two inches heel shoes to go with it. It would take about four months to be done and the dress would arrive about a month and a half before the wedding. I decided to wait for the dress to arrive to pick shoes to go with it.
Four months passed, and I finally received a notice that the dress was on its way. The bridesmaids dresses arrived a bit before mine and they were all absolutely beautiful. As we all ordered from the same shop, we were able to choose different dresses that suited each of our styles, with identical fabrics that made the whole thing look fantastic.
I received the delivery’s notice, saying it was to be delivered by DHL. (If you never had to deal with this delivery company before, let’s just say this in itself is a red flag, but what could I do.)
I chose a delivery date that I could be home all day. I awaited their arrival, and waited. At some point I received a notification that they couldn’t deliver it because there was an error in the address. I called DHL customer service as soon as I read it and could verify with the clerk on the phone that there was no error on the original delivery address and that actually, internally, they miss-wrote a letter of the postal code. The person assured me that the delivery person would be notified and they would then be on their way back.
I waited. It never came.
The next morning, I received a notification that, unable to deliver it, the expeditor had agreed to DESTROY the package! I screamed! Why in the world would the UK online shop allow to destroy a custom made dress that took four months to do?! And why the hell the delivery service didn’t make any other attempt after being responsible of the address error in the first place. I was beyond mad. I called DHL, they confirmed someone at the company had agreed on the destruction of the item. I wrote to the person I was in contact with from the beginning at the online shop (this lovely clerk who clearly never asked for any of this). Over there, they couldn’t find who the hell agreed to this insane request to destroy the dress. They were also appalled and didn’t understand how it could have happened. They could put a request to redo the dress rush, but we first needed to either try to stop the destruction from happening by going to the DHL warehouse directly, or to obtain a proof from DHL that the dress was irreversibly lost forever.
It felt surreal! The fiancées were both furious too. There was only one DHL warehouse we could go to do this kind of request in the city and it was really far. As the clock was ticking, they jumped in their car, joined me, and to the warehouse we went, arriving a few minutes before closing like an epic movie scene. The clerk there was mind blown by the whole situation. It seemed we were too late and the best we could do was to have the proof that, in their system, the dress had effectively transited and was destroyed.
With photos as proof in hand, I forwarded everything to the clerk of the online dress shop. Days passed, as they were awaiting the okay to start sewing a new dress. They were really trying their best to help the situation but it seemed to be a mess over there about the whole situation. We were now a month before the wedding. At some point, I was starting to panic. They finally agreed to redo it, but it would be waaaay too close before the wedding to receive it. Like a few days before kind of close, if nothing happened in transport this time.
I decided to go shopping for another dress. I spent a whole day trying to find the perfect grey that would fit the other groomsmen suits. In the last possible boutique, there was one dress checking all the criteria. I bought the new one and wrote to the first shop, hoping they would agree to refund the lost dress.
I took an appointment later that week to do the adjustments on the new dress. I then shopped for shoes. I found a cute pair with one inch heel that would be perfect for me. I’m not used to walking with heels, so the lower the better after all.
Like all this turmoil wasn’t enough, my family called and told me that my grandfather’s health suddenly decreased. Remember? Seven hours drive from family. I canceled some plans and bought a ticket for the night’s bus ride right after the dress fitting. On that morning, the UK shop agreed to refund the dress. That part was a big relief. I went to the dress fitting. At last, three weeks before the wedding, The second dress would be ready in about seven days. I came back home to gather some things to get back out to catch my bus.
But suddenly, the doorbell rang.
I opened.
Some DHL delivery man casually gave me a package and left.
Yes. That’s what you think.
I closed the door, went to my room, sat on the bed, opened the bag. It was indeed the first dress. I had a melt down. I cried so hard. I put the dress down, looked at it, told it “I’ll deal with you when I come back” and went away to the bus station.
Few days later, coming back from the family, I collected the second dress and dealt with the first one, which no longer fitted the length of the shoes! My MIL at the time knew an old lady who was lovely enough to accommodate me and do the fitting of the first one for a as modest price. I decided to keep it a secret until the wedding day. (These friends wouldn’t do any drama about reveals etc, nor would they think it was stealing any of their thunder, don’t worry about that.)
On the wedding morning, I effectively surprised the bride and groom with both dresses. They were mind blowed, flabbergasted to say the least! I put the original one for the official photoshoot and discretely changed right after dinner for the other one. People around that had followed the incredible adventures were laughing out loud and finding it hilarious that I decided to wear both of them as I had so much troubles!
Quite a story with dresses and with an ex, right? Guess what, I’m also the godmother of their first child!

I'm autistic and ADHD, and I have a big issue with getting stuff I don't need because of impulsivity. I went through a clothing phase and now have about 6 60l boxes of clothing, shoes and bags, I went through a jewellery phase where I now have 3 jewellery boxes filled, and I had a bad book collecting phase where I ended up with 246 books until summer last year (I am down to under 100 books now because I bought doubles or triples of the same book thinking I didn't have it). It's like Confession of a Shopaholic but less designer, more alternative clothing and decor, and without the debt.
When I moved last year, the movers made a joke about my stuff being more than one person's worth, which was very hurtful. My current place has a lift, but it took 7 trips to get everything in with a folding hand truck and another person. I'm planning on moving in the next month and a half into a place with just stairs, and I don't want the same comments again.
My problem is that I have such guilt about getting rid of things! I don't know how to let go of whatever memory or emotion I have attached to having gotten the item. The Marie Kondo method does not work because I'm finding joy in remembering I have something. Example: I have a set of 6 pastel coloured teacups I bought last year - they are so kitsch and adorable (though I never use them) but I can't find the nerve to donate them because I love seeing the colour splash in my shelf. I also have stuff from my grandma that I can't part with because, well, they're a memory of her.
I want to try and reduce my stuff by at least 20% in the next month - I'm currently looking as a giant TK Maxx red bag filled to the brim with shoes, clothing, tech accessories, and bags, and ready to be donated tonight to my building's donation station. It's slow, but I want to make sure I do it right and not end up back at square one.
Can anyone help me out with some tips? How did you manage to let go of things and stop the worrying that you'll end up needing something? Were there any methods that you found really helped?
Thank you in advance!

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

So Im the middle child of the 3 sisters. Ate is a very successful in both career and love. I just graduated and on the job hunt. Youngest just started college.
To make the story short, nag away kami ng bunso. Matagal na kaming magkaaway to the point na natrato ko sya na parang hangin sa buong high school life nya. Something happened when she was in grade 7 and that nailed the coffin na Im never gonna speak with her again. (I think it was when she used my one and only black shoes, and that day I didnt have pe so I have to wear my uniform. Hindi ako nakapasok that day kasi strict ang rules ng school ko regarding uniforms).
I saw her as a bratty spoiled bossy littleshit na dapat lahat ng gusto nya nasusunod. Lagi kaming nag aaway dahil sa ugali nya at sa lagi nyang pangunguha ng gamit ko na ginagamit ko. Ang malala pa ay mababalik nalang sa akin na sira pa. She never apologized, and she even has the gal to raise her tone than mine, as if I was the one in the wrong.
I am sensitive to my own things specially my personal and art materials cause I bought them with my own money/saved allowance. Im a crafty person so i buy a lot of things. Nakikita ko sya as luho so never akong nanghingi pambili ng something I liked.
There were many time na napuno ako and pinapatulan ko na sya. But as always, sya kinakampihan at binebaby ng mama. Every time she used something na consumable or nasira nya, si mama ang taga ayos nya. Para wala daw gulo at tumigil na ako sa immature acts ko. And I think that was not the point? Im talking about her shit personality and not being respected as an older sister. But as always, laging bukang bibig sa akin ay mabibili,mapapalitan yan, matanda ka na, intindihan mo mas bata sayo ganyan ka din dati. I adjusted and put locks on my desk, cabinet and drawer, to no avail. Minsan kinukuha nyang pataho susi ko, or pinipilit nyang buksan.
And sa kwarto, napaka bossy nya. Laging nakakalat yung pinagkainan nya, and it smells, laging nakatapat sa kannya yung electric fan, and all.
Whenever we fight, I was always seen in the wrong. Ako yung sinisigawan pabalik ni mama kapag nasasapak ko na minsan. I know Im a veryyyy patient person. May mga times lang na sobra na akong napupuno, and thats the only time I put her into her place.
And this time, things escalated, at ako na yung pinapalayas since tapos naman na daw ako. Dalhin ko na daw mga gamit ko para wala nang kumuha. To be honest, wala na akong pinipiling trabaho basta may tumanggap lang. Alis na alis na din naman talaga ako. All these time napaka negative nila. Job hunting is really tiring, rejections after rejections, to the point na nawawala na self confidence ko at sobrang negative na ako sa sarili ko. Then negative pa environment ko, which is not really helpful sa pag try ko sa self improvement plan ko. Ate thinks that Im just being too emotional, na i need to grow up since the earth is big and its nonsense.
Was it really my fault? Oa lang ba talaga ako? I also want to change. Ayaw ko naman na din isipin. But whenever I'm alone, not doing anything, like before going to bed... voices just keeps pouring and pouring and I really have no control over it. Lagi akong nagcoconcert ng happy rock songs sa isip ko para lang di ko marinig yung mga shit thoughts.
How can you handle this??

This is how to get your ex back.

When you’re going through a breakup, it is likely that you are experiencing anxiety, panic, shock, sorrow, desperation, and hopelessness. How to Get Your Ex Back - Dr. Honey love spells
Some even often report loss of appetite due to the discomfort and anxiousness that these feelings cause, often resulting in nausea.
Because of the severity of emotions after being dumped, many people in your shoes feel that their situation is uniquely awful.
People experiencing the pain of being dumped often think that their situation is worse than all or most of the breakup situations out there.
I certainly understand why you feel that way, if you do.
It feels so horrible and terribly unique in terms of how it affects you that it seems like no one else could possibly be going through this or that most people don’t go through this kind of pain from a breakup.
I usually tell people in your shoes that other people experience similar levels of pain and sorrow after a breakup.
However, I also tell them that people in this kind of pain and sorrow very often get back together with their ex as well.
I’m blessed to see people get an ex back every single day!

How to Get My Ex Back

Every day I get an email, a comment, or someone calls to tell me that their ex came back to them.
So I can tell you that the short answer is that, yes, there is hope to get your ex back.
My optimism on people getting their ex back is not because I’m a “pie-in-the-sky”.
It’s because I’ve seen so many success stories that now I expect most cases to work out if you follow through what I tell you.
The bottom line is that if you two had a good relationship, if there was chemistry, if you enjoyed each other, and if you didn’t respond too poorly to the breakup, your odds are good to get your ex back.
If you responded poorly to the breakup but had those other positives, your odds are not as good as the example above, but they still are solid.

I CAN SHOW YOU HOW TO GET YOUR EX BACK.

The No Contact Rule alone increases the likelihood and the level of hope of getting an ex back.
It’s just such a powerful thing that most people so often underestimate and overlook.
It’s not just a way to get your ex to miss you, it’s also a way to prevent you from making mistakes, from keeping them from being pushed away from you by the wrong kind of pressure, for them to see you has having the ability to stay away from them, and a way to get them to see that you could move on which would mean that they could lose you.
Those things work on the mind and heart of your ex and can help to resurrect emotional attraction – the core reason your ex broke up with you in the first place.

Hope to get them back Want To Get Them Back

If you stay strong, focused, and determined, you give yourself the best chance and greatest hope of getting your ex back.
It’s when people lose it and break no contact that they can delay their ex from coming back or even prevent it entirely.
If you have broken no contact, get back on the no-contact wagon and stay there! You still have hope, though you might have hurt your odds a bit.
The reason for that is because by you breaking no contact, your ex is reassured that you will wait around on them, that you can’t stay away, and that you aren’t moving on.

THEY WILL LIKELY DOUBT YOUR ABILITY TO DO SO.

Not only will this give them relief because they realize that you are there waiting as a backup plan should they ever change their mind and heart, but it also removes the positive pressure that was probably on them during no contact.
That positive pressure was allowing them to see that you could move on and that they could lose you forever if they don’t act.
Your best hope is to push through and remain committed to no contact.
Get your ex back with Dr honey love’s tips.
The best part about no contact is that it is sneaky. Your ex doesn’t see it coming.

WHAT YOUR EX GOES THROUGH BEFORE THEY COME BACK

You want to know how to get your ex back.
In fact, you want to know the best way to get your ex back.
First, I’m going to tell you something about reuniting with the love that you probably won’t like hearing at first.
After the breakup, your ex starts off in a stage of relief.
He or she was able to do the difficult, awkward task of breaking up with you and they are relieved that it is over and done.
So they enjoy feeling that it’s over and that it’s time for them to move on with life.
This stage usually only lasts for a few days or a couple of weeks.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, your ex starts to be curious as to why you haven’t reached out.
Your ex wonders why you haven’t fought and chased them, begging them to come back or to give you another chance.
That’s when your ex will likely become concerned or even afraid.
The reason for their concern is that if you aren’t chasing them, their mind jumps to the conclusion that you are moving on.
Or, worse, that maybe there is already someone else.

BUT PAY ATTENTION TO THIS PART:

I’ll take a second to say that you shouldn’t take pictures of yourself with a potential romantic partner and post it all over social media in hopes that your ex will see it, get jealous, and come running back to you.
It rarely works like that and is certainly not the best way to accomplish that.
Usually, they don’t want to face what seems to be an obvious rejection if they try to come back to you while you are with someone else.
So don’t fall for what I call a vengeance strategy. It’s just not effective.

HOW FAST CAN YOU GET YOUR EX BACK?

It’s important that you realize that getting your ex back will often be a case of taking two steps forward and one step back.
It’s not going to happen overnight because the breakup itself didn’t happen overnight.
Remember this:
Breaking up with you was likely something that your ex was considering for a while unless a major event directly caused a quick breakup.
As long as you are showing strength, respecting your ex’s decision, and giving them the breakup without them feeling you are “trying” to get them back, you have good reason to have hope that your ex will come back because you are doing it the best way possible.
Trust the process, believe that you are enough without having to come up with excuses to reach out (because it’s unlikely to be effective anyway), and that the principle of scarcity will likely result in your ex missing you (if you stay away) and this will help you win your ex back.
Stay strong and remember that even though it feels as though there is an urgency to get your ex back at this moment or else you will lose him or her forever, it’s simply not true.

It’s not as hopeless as it feels.

It’s important that you take things one day at a time and remember that the future is wide open.
As long as you and your ex are still alive, there is a path to the two of you being together.
It doesn’t have to happen today in order for it to happen.
You probably can’t get your ex back today, but you can push them away which, obviously you don’t want to do.
So prevent yourself from reaching out and communicating with them from a place of desperation, emotional panic, or anger.
Demonstrate grace, maturity, and strength so that in the coming days, months, and even years, your ex will look back on you positively.
That way, as your ex reflects and considers your place in his/her life, the door will be open for them to realize their mistake in leaving you.
It’s a powerful thing but something that requires discipline, maturity, and confidence in the process.

HAVE YOU TRIED ALL THIS!!!

It’s a shame but not do not lose hope.
Apart from giving relationship advice, I provide real solutions to complicated and difficult situations like this.
To get my help with your specific situation and a tailored map to getting your ex back.
Schedule consultation using the contact form or Whatsapp/ call +256706532311 to reach Me.

Anyone remember those scary tales other kids used to tell in your childhood.
Like the 12 powder blush one? A little girl’s mom is leaving to shop, and she tells her daughter to never open her 12 powders. But the little girl disobeys her mom, and opens the powders one by one, and each time she opens one, her mom kills a taxi driver. And makes a jump rope from his body parts as a gift to her daughter. But when she gets home, the mom gets mad and kills her daughter (I think)
There’s also the tale about a lone ger in the middle of nowhere. The old woman living there is mysterious like the night itself, and offers guests cold tea milk. If you accept the tea, she’ll kill you.
Some kids also told me the story of the Red Shoes. Or even the Red dress, anyone have any similar creepy stories to share?

I was born to two young (early 20s), mentally ill people. My mother had untreated bipolar disorder, and my father was an angry, stern asshole. I know my father was physically abused growing up. My mother is a very unreliable narrator, so I'm not sure what happened with her. My maternal grandparents seemed nice and always treated me well. From what I've heard, she was a very troubled teen. Hung out with the wrong crowd, got pregnant at 16, she would go randomly into fits of rage.
They always blamed me for the abuse, saying I was a difficult child. I talked back, and slammed doors. I was strong-headed. It would enrage them. A common scene at my home was that my mother would get upset over some perceived slight, like my bedroom was too messy. My father would come back from work (he was the sole breadwinner, my mom refused to work), would hit me, and go through my room systematically destroying everything in his path. Books, torn to shreds, stuffed animals ripped apart. I would be left to go pick up the pieces in the dumpster, crying.
I never did drugs, slept around, stole... And generally kept good grades, until I was too depressed and suicidal in high school. I just stood up to them and their treatment of me. They hated me talking back. I'd get punched, kicked, slapped, dragged down the stairs by my hair. My father would scream that he would "tame" me until my ears rang.
I was about 15-20lbs overweight as a kid. My mother was obsessed with weight and appearance - "fat cow" was an insult she'd throw around a lot. I grew up in a country and time when being an overweight girl was just about the worst thing you could do. She would discourage physical exercise, her focus was on diet. We'd go on slim fast diets together, which would never work. Later as a teen I'd live on diet coke and the occasional binge eating episode. I used Ipecac to make myself purge. I developed an eating disorder. I never got really skinny though to her great disappointment, as an adult I learned I had a thyroid autoimmune disorder.
My mother cheated on my father a lot, and made me cover up for it. Yet, they blamed me for "ruining" their marriage. They were two high-conflict personalities and would get in very nasty arguments. At 17 I messed up my back really bad, carrying heavy school books to school and back, and school was really far. I ended up in chronic pain for decades afterwards with two herniated discs.
My mother's bipolar disorder would make her a big spender on my father's working class salary. She'd go on wild spending sprees and "spoil" me with makeup or clothing to make up for the physical abuse from my father. Yet, I never saw a dentist in 18 years. I had to get so much dental work done when I got my first job and dental insurance. I always felt guilty and responsible for the abuse - if I had been more respectful, if I had been more tidy, worked harder in school, maybe this wouldn't have happened. They took no responsibility, I was just "out of control" to them. I think the worst thing I ever did was accidentally putting a scratch in the car paint getting my bike out of the garage. Other things, like refusing to wear socks in shoes. Looking back, I probably had sensory issues/autism. Socks would make my skin crawl.
I have a sister who I am also NC with. She didn't endure any abuse. She was born with a minor heart, stable defect, and my mom was really absorbed with it. They would be so careful with her. She was more docile than me. She was given so many chances. She never managed to start her own life, and still lives with my parents to this day, in her mid-thirties, with a part-time job. I don't think she's ever had a romantic relationship or any of the milestones adults usually go through.
I recently reconnected with my godmother after going NC with my parents. My parents would also keep me from other family members, usually over some drama they'd instigate. My godmother told me I was a colicky baby. My mother had psychotic episodes, hearing voices and screams, and postpartum depression after having me. I had to be weaned pretty fast as a result, and dairy formula hurt my tummy. I'd cry for hours. They would shake me and scream in my face.
A baby is just a baby. You can't hold them responsible for being a "difficult" child. A lot of my shame and self-blame evaporated upon learning of this. I'm doing pretty good now. I left home early (honestly thought they would end up killing me, either by hitting me or pushing me to suicide). I got into, then left a toxic marriage, went to therapy, did EMDR, went on SSRIs, put myself through college, bought my own place, and met a wonderful partner who is the best man I know. I just sometimes ache for what could have been, and for the fact it took me two decades of struggling to get there. I could have gone so much further in life with the proper support, but I was chronically burned out.
I got a lot of plastic surgery to not physically look like my mother and because I was pretty homely. I was bullied a lot over my looks. I had wild swings in weight too, which wrecked my body early. I realize that's crazy, but I'm happy I did it. I stopped at a reasonable point, and am happy with the improved quality of life it brought me.
Anyway, just getting this off my chest. I made it, but at what cost.

So, growing up I was the oldest child and had a brother who was 4 years younger than me. I grew up in a strict Catholic household, but my parents grew a bit more open minded once I was in high school and college. My mother specifically is pretty open minded about most things these days, but my Dad still lives a bit in the dark ages.
When I was in middle school, I started to notice that I would occasionally go to look for something in my closet and couldn't find it. I would mention it to my Mom, who did my laundry, and most often she would say she didn't have it. Almost always, the piece of clothing would mysteriously appear in either the laundry or my closet days later. My parents told me I just owned too many clothes and my closets/drawers were simply too full, and that's why I lost these items.
In high school, this continued with more frequency, and I started to notice that it was always very particular items of clothing- plaid mini skirts, knee high socks, heeled boots, and sometimes, even underwear. I have several vivid memories of going to pull underwear out of my dresser and seeing that it had obvious stains or spots on them- that they were not clean and had definitely been used, but not by me. I also noticed that sometimes the items would be put in the closet in the wrong spots (I had everything organized a particular way) or they were hung up on hangers oddly. I started to think my brother was the one stealing my clothes, because it couldn't be anyone else in the house. I figured he was doing it just to mess with me, so I started confronting him about it- always in front of my parents and most often at dinner. Immediately my brother would yell and say there's no way he would do that, and my Dad would jump right to his aide and defend my brother. How dare I accuse him? It's not his fault that I'm messy/own too many clothes to keep track of. In private, my Mom would say that she couldn't think of another explanation, but that she didn't believe my brother was doing it and I shouldn't bring it up at family dinners anymore. I was getting increasingly frustrated as this was going on for YEARS. Eventually, I started doing my own laundry, and locking my bedroom door when I wasn't home. Even then, the same thing would happen occasionally. I knew in my heart it was my brother but it didn't matter, because any time I brought it up I was the one blamed for causing a fight. I even confronted my brother privately a few times, but he never admitted to anything.
Well, one day when I was in my Senior or Grad year of college- I was probably around 22 at the time- I wanted some alone time while the house was empty and I go to get my vibrator out of the bottom drawer of my nightstand, except... it wasn't there. I looked everywhere, even dumping out the drawer completely just to make sure it wasn't. My mom knew I had one, so the first thing I did was call her and ask if she knew what had happened to it. She didn't. So, I went into my brother's room and started searching. There, shoved into the corner of his closet under a bunch of random stuff, was a stash- complete with multiple of my items of clothing, shoes, handfuls of underwear, and my vibrator. To say I was pissed was an understatement. I was seeing red. My mom and brother were on the way home, so I took pictures, put everything back, and waited.
When they got home, I called them upstairs into his bedroom. I, calmly and even-toned, said to my brother that I wanted to know, once and for all, whether or not he'd been the one messing with my clothes for years, and that I wouldn't be mad, but I wanted him to admit to it if it was him. Immediately, he starts screaming for me to get out of his room, how dare I accuse him, etc. At this point, my Mom was pretty convinced herself as over the years there was never another explanation, so she tried to come to my aid and explain that it's nothing to be embarrassed of and he could talk to her about anything. She even asked me to go out of the room so they could talk privately. I eavesdropped from outside, and heard him say that it's not his fault I'm crazy and a bitch, etc. He continued to deny it. I had reached my tipping point. I burst into the room, threw open the closet door and grabbed the vibrator. I whipped around with it in my outstretched arm, looked him dead in the eyes and screamed "EXPLAIN THIS!" A look of absolute horror reached his face. He didn't say anything. So, I threw the vibrator at him, and then starting taking each other item out of the closet and throwing it into a pile in the middle of the room. Only after that was done did he finally crack. He started to sob. I told my Mom that I would be back, that she needed to talk to him, and I left the house.
A few hours later, I returned and my Mom basically told me that he admitted to stealing the clothes for YEARS. He wouldn't tell her what he was doing with them- she thought he was maybe putting them on pillows and pretending they were girls (he'd never had a girlfriend or anything) but I always thought- and still do- that he'd been wearing the clothes in his room. She discussed with him that she would be willing to purchase women's clothes for him so that he wouldn't need to steal mine, and that she would do it in private so my Dad wouldn't know. She also told me that he was incredibly ashamed and she was nervous he'd hurt himself or attempt to end himself because of my confrontation (never in his life had he ever showed signs of this). I told her to relay the message to him that all I wanted was an apology.
A few hours later, he came to me, totally unable to look me in the face, but he apologized for the years of stealing- and sometimes ruining- my clothes. He apologized for denying it every time he was confronted and even offered to replace every single item of clothing/underwear if I wanted (It would have been a couple hundred dollars). I thanked him for apologizing, told him that I would be more than willing to purchase him things myself, that I did not want him to replace anything (because no one wants their brother to buy them a sex toy) and that if he ever wanted to talk about things I was there. It was that day that I told him I was bisexual, had had a girlfriend in secret in high school, and if he was questioning anything I would be an open ear. Even then, our relationship was strained for a long time.
It's been like 6 years now. I moved out as soon as I could, and always said to my Mom that I moved out more to get away from my brother than my parents. My brother has been more open with me in the past few years about his identify and sexuality (I believe him to be demisexual) and the fact that he does, in fact, purchase and wear women's clothing on occasion in the privacy of his own room. He once asked me if it would be okay for him to wear lingerie- type items when he visits/sleeps over my apartment. I respectfully declined, stating that I still harbored negative feelings towards that whole situation and quite frankly, didn't want to see my brother in his underwear, and he accepted that.
Still, to this day, I harbor resentment towards my parents that they never took my side until there was hard, undeniable truth in front of them. I actually don't know if my Mom ever told my Dad- he could be totally unaware of this whole situation. I've always thought they treated my brother differently. I had to be the responsible one. I had to be the one that held it all together. I had to be the one to do things for everyone else, even at my own expense. I've never really truly forgiven them for not believing me.
Anyway, that's what I's unpacking in therapy this week. I hope the visual of me flinging a vibrator across a room made you smile if nothing else! Cheers everyone.

I had a small celebration for a work promotion so i went with some friends to a restaurant and one of them brought their (small) dog. No problem so far. Later we walked home all together because two of my friends were staying the night at my place and the other two wanted to stay for a coffee. I said that they couldn’t come because my fiancé is allergic to dogs, but he started discussing and said “ah she (dog) can stay in her bag, don’t worry we won’t be long”. I was really overwhelmed so i let him. I hadn’t even stripped out of my shoes yet when the dog was already walking around the whole flat. He then asked for a glass of water, which i gave him and went to wash my hands. When i came back, he was kneeling on the ground and his dog drank out of my glass. He didn’t even ask me if i had a bowl or something for the dog he could use. He proceeded to drink out of the same glass the rest of their stay. Later he gave the dog a treat “because it’s so cute” which it took on my beige carpet and slobbered all over it. When they left, my fiancé had asthma and there was dog fur everywhere. I feel so violated in my boundaries.

Hello everyone! I am currently a business student and just purely curious. I would be happy to learn and understand things so feel free to share your thoughts. Positive or negative. Let me learn from you respectfully.
I saw this article where this Rosmar (I don't know much about her honestly as I don't watch local TV or use any socmed that much) claimed in an interview with Toni that she earns 5M-13M in a DAY. Let me repeat in a DAY. Sounds inspiring and stuff like that bla bla but something feels off.
In my personal perspective, I am crazy with beauty products, focus on skincare (I don't wear make up that much). I am avid buyer online in different platforms and apps on my phone and its my ritual whenever I visit malls to check out Watsons/Sm Dept/Rustans, etc.
First, I don't know her brand (not aware?) and it doesn't look reliable to me. I don't even see it at malls that much or maybe an independent store or any presence like how Avon is marketed. Even in trusted online store like Sephora ph, BeautyMNL, beautyshopph, or even in watsons online, I don't see it? It's in Shopee and Lazada though but I dont fully trust products there with usually no FDA approval. I do use those apps a lot for different products coz it's cheap. So, overall, her brand doesn't have that solid exposure in the general public to be a household name that you can assume can cater a big number of consumers. Other than cringe reels of hers I see time to time when i scroll in youtube randomly, that's it. Even commercials? Or billboards (maybe I'm just not aware because I don't go out that much)
Second, the timeframe. Based on the things I read, in average, a good managed started up company can possibly earn millions in 3-5years, lots of factors, it varries. I only heard her name around after pandemic, with the economic issues the country have previously. If she say a million in a couple of months, maybe I'll believe it like 30% but does her company export outside that big to say that?
Third, her house is extravagant indeed with sport cars she boasts but the way she act and how she organised her household, it kinda gives me the feels of somebody who won lotto one day and just picked up a random mansion. Her mannerisms and the way she speaks is off. She doesnt even give a nepo baby vibes with rich parents as well or i just dont know. Successful hardworking CEOs stories that I see choose to customised and build their house on their own and you can feel how aura of someone who put their blood and sweat on their business. Forgive me if I'm judgmental but she doesn't sound like someone skillful by experience. I used to watched OFW stories who didn't have education and yet through practical skills they can specifically explain how they expanded their business. But in her shoes, it's like magic and like it just boomed one day.
I heard she stuff lots of cash in her house as well and she buy big things in cash. Now that's really suspicious to me. Someone rich would rather put it in a bank and pay in cheque for super big purchase.
To all struggling business owners out there. I salute you. I aspire to build my own in the near future too but I'm pretty sure it's a journey of trial and error and lots of never giving up. Cheers!

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Remember to check our Ai Generator: CandyAI

I literally look like a man and I’m a cis-gendered woman. I want facial feminization so badly but I’m broke as fuck. I have a big forehead, big wide nose, sagging eyelids, and to top it off thin lips and a long philtrum. Oh and a weak chin. I pretty much got the worst facial features from both of my parents. I feel like no one understands how isolating and lonely living ugly is. I’ve genuinely never had friends or a boyfriend who is proud to be seen with me. I’m so ugly I’m invisible even when I’m skinny. I was never asked to prom, never invited to any events in highschool, no one even knew who I was. I would have my name called on the intercom and people loudly and proudly would ask “who tf is that?”. None of my crushes ever liked me back. I always see these average to below average looking men with gorgeous women and it just reinforces that I have no hope for my love life. I want to be married and have kids but I can’t do that if no one wants to be seen with me. Sure, I’ve had sex but it wasn’t meaningful. I am grateful that I’ve experience it but at the same time I was being used. I’ve always been called a butter face. I think the only reason I’ve been able to have sex is because men are okay with using ugly women and I have huge tits. However, I’ve always been a secret, never to be posted or seen. Never to be taken on dates or to events. I’ve basically been used for sex and discarded for being so ugly. People have never cared about me and always perceive me as being creepy or weird. To make it even worse I have a sister who is gorgeous. I constantly worry that if I ever get lucky enough to have a husband that he’s going to want my sister more. That he’ll eventually cheat on me with her or deeply regret choosing the ugly sister. But I genuinely believe I’m too ugly to ever get married. I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll never be married and have kids. Shit, even my own mother used to compare me to my sister. I was the smart one and she was the pretty one. Honestly, I’m not that smart … I’d rather be pretty. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give or sacrifice to be pretty. If you’re not a pretty woman you are the scum on everyone’s shoes. You could be talented, smart, super funny, very kind. None of that matters because of how superficial our society is. Being ugly is always being less than. You’re never enough. Never validated; never seen or remembered. It’s really hard to stay alive or think life is worth it.