Ripping off clothes in public

I F20 have been dating David M22 for two years. We met through the modeling agency as kids, both of us showing off products for big chain stores. He was the only kid there that wasn't self centered thinking the world evolved around them.
We became friends, so close to the point directors would have us couple up for shoots. It was fun as a kid, yet as the time went on, modelling became such a stressful job. David quit it when he turned 16 and got a part time job as a waiter since he had gone back to public school. I however had no choice but to stay in the modelling industry and get my learning from online as my mom and dad were once too models.
When David and I realized our friendship was much more and started going out, we both knew the relationship would be rocky as I'd never really be home. As I got older, the industry I worked for wanted me to travel a lot, one week I'd be in America the next I was off in Finland doing some shoots.
The distance was hard but it was what it was. As a model, I had always got those men in the street that would whistle or sometimes even shout at me, there was that one guy thought that chased me till I called the cops. I got body guards, they weren't there with me 24/7 but they did lurk.
When I was at occasions such as parties and celebrations, usually for landing rolls or getting a spot in a catwalk, I'd always get those guys that would rock up in their expensive clothes and jewellery, asking for a drink. You know when they offer to buy a drink for an expensive bar that they want more. I'd usually turn them down on the spot- still getting a drink but it started to get annoying.
I felt like I was dealing out cards with the same number on each one, taken, taken, taken etc and etc.
The word taken had came out of my mouth so many times it didn't even feel like a real word anymore.
I eventually got tired and began to say yes to when I was asked if I was single. Someone from the industry heard and immediately word spread like fire.
I hadn't done anything with the men I said yes to, infact I took my drink and left them.
As I was on my flight home, I received a notification from David. A photo. Turning my phone away from the others who sat around, sipping their cocktails I opened the picture. It was a photo of our latest magazine, me on the front.
I didn't see anything wrong with it at first. Usually David sends me photos of our magazines when he notices a typing error or something like that. As I zoomed in, I noticed small bold font in the corner of the cover.
'Famous model drops ex-model boyfriend, clearly has a type'.
I was so confused in the moment, immediately showing the photo to my boss, demanding to know what this was all about. He discussed the conversation that I had had with the men at the party, revealing the news of the breakup would land me so many roles as heartbreak models are the thing right now. I was disgusted and honestly heartbroken.
I called David and explained the whole situation, he wasn't happy infact he ended the call. He told me how it's not good to feel like it annoying to tell people you're in a relationship, how that hurt him. I can understand his point of view but he just has obviously forgotten what it's like to be asked out 24/7.
AITAH?

I'm going to Tallinn for my winter semester, and I was wondering if you guys have any recommendations and tips for places to visit or go to. I've already made a list of some places I want to visit, but I'd like more of a local's perspective. I also have some questions about day-to-day life there. I also did some research on the visit estonia website and on the visit tallinn website.
Here are some of the places I put on my list:
Food:

• I don't have many places on my list, so if you could list some, that'd be great. I only have Café Fika, and that's it.

Museums:

• I have a lot of museums on my list, from Fotografiska to Eesti Kaasaegse Kunsti Muuseum, but my question is: Are museums usually expensive to go to? I always look for tickets with the ISIC student discount, and still, some of them are €10+.

Green Spaces:

• I'm a bit lost on green spaces like parks, but I feel like you can come across them pretty easily. However, I heard of the Japanese Gardens. Any other recommendations?

Supermarkets/Gym/Shopping:

• I feel like the cheapest is going to be Lidl, but if you know of an even cheaper one, please let me know. Also, what's a good cheap gym?
• Do HUMANA (second hand clothing shops) often do those sales where all items in store are 3€? Are second-hand shops common?

Travel:

• I heard Ryanair doesn't exist there, but I heard traveling from Tallinn to Helsinki and Stockholm is pretty cheap via ferry. How should I go about that? Are there specific companies I should get the tickets from?
• Is public transport reliable?
• What surrounding towns do you recommend I visit?

Nightlife:

• Hall
• Plastik Record Store
• Hungr
• D3
• Club Hollywood
• Venus Club
• Labor Baar
  
• Are nightclubs usually paid entrance?
  
• Are cigarettes/alcohol/weed cheap? And what are the cheapest bars to pre at?
  
• What are some good ones with DJs that actually DJ and don't just play songs off Spotify?
  
• Where can I find cool events? Is there any specific website aside from Resident Advisor?
  

Thanks in advance!!!

I changed the title (which is why the version 4), revised this version of the query, and sent a package out into the world just over a month ago. I know that’s nothing in query-time, but I’m expecting form rejects, and want to be reassess and revise before sending out another batch. I also had a dream that told me I should rewrite the query. So there. Current version and 300 are below. Please help.
Query:
Cruxtienne is a crooked, dirty town.
Ilyin washed up there a refugee, scorned because of her ancestry, but able to talk an alligator out of its teeth. A master thief taught her his trade, and a respected madame’s fixer became her first friend. She’d do just about anything for either of them.
That’s what puts her in a bawdy-house room, face-to-face with the ugliest man she’s ever seen and the murderous devices he’s built. The man says he’s a genius, and that the plans for his greatest invention were stolen by the Autrelle family.
They make a deal: if Ilyin comes back with the plans he’ll leave. If not, it’s an ugly death for everyone in the brothel.
Fyrd, demonologist and banker, arrives to collect a debt. The Autrelle family’s line of credit is far past due. He has information that the family possesses a set of plans, drafted by a brilliant but disturbed inventor, valuable enough to move their account from red to black. Fyrd’s partners have suggested, very strongly, that he should not return without them. The plans, however, are missing. Fyrd summons a demon to obtain them.
As Ilyin races to steal and return the plans she unleashes and deceives an undead horror, discovers information that threatens the powerful cartels and politicians profiting from Cruxtienne’s corruption, and is captured by Fyrd’s demon.
If Ilyin can win Fyrd over she can avert a slaughter and start dismantling the system keeping so many in Cruxtienne poor and desperate. If not, then there’ll be a multitude of casualties on her conscience, and a target on her back.
THE WAKE OF THEFT is a 114,774-word dark fantasy told through multiple points of view. It is a stand-alone with series potential and should appeal to fans of Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buehlman, Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett, and The Bone Priest by Peter McLean.
300+10:
“You are making my guards nervous, Gaston. Please sit,” Benet Autrelle said.
It was a command, not a request. Gaston didn’t care.
Two guards flanked Benet Autrelle’s office desk. They wore polished steel breastplates over grey and orange livery. Gaston’s throat tightened as the guards readied their halberds, but he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, a sneer on face, and glanced at Liurya.
The marsh elf, neatly dressed in clothes that brought out the light green of his skin, lounged in a brocade chair facing the desk. He nodded.
Gaston fit himself into a chair, arranging his weapons for comfort.
Autrelle turned to face Liurya. “Was that bit of theater necessary?”
“Just a reminder of what the cartel offers,” Liurya replied.
Late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, reflecting off the porcelain coffee service, the glittering chandelier, and the carefully polished furniture. Gaston looked past the opulence to the multi-colored smoke rising from the stacks and towers of the alchemical refinery just outside of the city. This was the day’s last visit. Soon he’d meet his Esmy at the refinery gates, put an arm around her waist, and all this lizard-shit would drift away.
The unpleasant expression on his face didn’t change. Gaston had been a cartel enforcer nearly ten years. He knew his role.
Benet Autrelle remained standing. He straightened his bright silk vest and adjusted the loose sleeves of the shirt he wore beneath it. Behind him were oil portraits of his father and uncles, the previous heads of the Autrelle Company, all with the family’s unusual hazel eyes. On his desk was a statuette of the company emblem: a compass rose cast in steel and copper.
A servant finished pouring coffee as the elf studied Autrelle. In one fluid motion Liurya stood, spun, stabbed the servant, and ripped a garrote from his hands.

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

Exceptionally educational edition of Caitlin's Newsletter "The Media Skew Public Perception By Manipulating People's Attention", detailing how MSM's Palestine coverage makes propaganda clearer (and more evil) than ever:
(Clickthrough to see images of hand-marked highlights of the MSM's corrupt "linguistic gymnastics".)

“Israel Rescues 4 Hostages in Military Operation; Gazan Officials Say Scores Are Killed,” reads a New York Times headline from Saturday.
It’s a very odd-looking headline even if you don’t know anything about the propagandistic tactics being employed in it. The first half is very clear, while the second half is unintelligible and reads like some weird kind of riddle or word puzzle.
The New York Times is performing these bizarre, cryptic linguistic gymnastics to discuss the latest Israeli massacre in Gaza which as of this writing has a reported death toll of 236.
Right off the bat we can see something weird in this headline with the use of the word “scores” to describe the number of people reported killed in the massacre. The New York Times article itself says it was reported that “more than 200 people were killed in central Gaza,” so the correct quantifier for the headline would be “hundreds”, not “scores”. This would be like a headline saying “dozens” of people were killed on 9/11 instead of “thousands”; it would technically be correct since the number of people killed were mathematically speaking many many dozens, but it would give readers the wrong impression of the lethality of the incident.
https://x.com/TameeOliveFern/status/1799525189828649351
Next, notice the sudden switch mid-headline from active, certain voice to passive, doubtful voice. Four Israeli hostages were definitely rescued by Israel, while Gazan officials are alleging that scores were killed.
Scores of what? Cats? Chickens? Israelis?
Killed by what? Salmonella poisoning? Traffic accidents? Congolese militias?
There’s no way to tell from the headline.
The mass media in general and The New York Times in particular are notorious for their passive language “Palestinian child ceases breathing after encountering bullet” headlines when promoting Israeli information interests, but it really drives the point home when you see it switch from normal human language to something that sounds like a clue The Riddler would leave Batman within the very same headline.
And what’s interesting is that nothing The New York Times editors did here is technically a lie. Every word they meticulously selected for their headline is technically true, but it is shaped in such a way that it draws the reader’s attention away from the fact that Israel just massacred hundreds of human beings.
They could have just as easily written “Israel Kills Hundreds of Palestinians in Central Gaza Attack; 4 Hostages Rescued” and it would have been just as true, but then public attention would have been drawn in the opposite direction. The New York Times never, ever draws public attention in that direction; the slanting only ever goes one way.
https://x.com/ryangrim/status/1798799983447048303
We saw something similar the other day from The New York Times when they reported that Israel has been torturing Palestinian prisoners by sodomizing them with hot metal rods — sometimes to death — but buried this information at the very bottom of the article, without mentioning a word of it in the headline or sub-headline.
Here again, nobody can technically accuse The New York Times of lying; they didn’t report anything that wasn’t true or fail to report anything that was true. They just drastically underemphasized the real story in their report to direct their readers’ attention away from Israeli criminality.
A lot of people who grow skeptical of the mass media correctly assume that these outlets are propaganda services for the US empire, but incorrectly assume that this means they must be lying all the time. In truth the imperial propaganda machine is much more sophisticated than this, and much more effective.
Rather than making up whole-cloth lies and losing all credibility in the mainstream public, the mass media will generally rely on distortions like the above which skew public perception without actually technically lying. They’ll place emphasis in areas which benefit the empire, they’ll omit inconvenient facts, they’ll use tricky phrasing, they’ll uncritically report on the claims of favored government officials while saying the claims of unfavored government officials are made without evidence, they’ll mention convenient news stories over and over again, and they’ll report inconvenient stories only once before leaving them to get lost in the daily news churn.
I actually cite the mass media quite a bit in my own work, because a lot of useful and truthful information about the criminality of the western empire comes out through outlets like The New York Times. It’s just that that information is deemphasized and quickly shuffled out of public attention by the propagandists who run those outlets, allowing them to technically tell the truth while still manipulating the overarching narrative about what’s going on in the world.
https://x.com/AssalRad/status/1798757428764561889
The propagandists who edit outlets like The New York Times are able to skew public perception in favor of the empire because they understand that human experience is dominated by the movements of attention, so if they can manipulate those movements of attention, they can manipulate how people perceive the world.
I once met someone who described attention as “the uncrowned king of consciousness,” and I recall those words often because of their accuracy. Attention is the uncrowned king of consciousness because its movements dictate how we will experience our world: what we will think about, notice, see, hear, or otherwise perceive, but we don’t tend to place much importance on it or recognize the extent to which our life is ruled by it.
In reality there is little that is more crucial to our experience of life than the movements of our attention. It’s something so fundamental that two people walking across the exact same meadow at the exact same time will never have the same experience of it. One might experience a meadow with a pleasant breeze, a chirping bird in a tree, a grasshopper zipping across their path, and a sky of phenomenal beauty, while the other might experience the meadow as a distant and barely-noticed backdrop to their mental concerns for their future, their grievances about the past, their imaginary arguments with a family member, and a catchy song they’ve got stuck in their head.
After someone dies people often talk about the things they did in life — their accomplishments, their legacy, how many children they raised, what they did for work — but really the kind of life someone lived has less to do with the things they did than the way their attention moved. The movements of someone's attention throughout their life really was their life, because it determined what their experience of their time on this world actually was. How present they were for it. How much beauty they experienced. How much mental energy they wasted on imaginary bullshit. What they noticed. What they missed.
https://x.com/TheOnion/status/1721644886619836479
Our perception of the world is dominated by the movements of our attention, which means that our perception of the world can be changed by manipulating those movements. Propagandists understand this, so they spend their time doing things like telling us over and over again what a bad bad baddie Vladimir Putin is while just occasionally giving a single highly mitigated mention to an individual instance of Israeli criminality, or talking about October 7 over and over again while greatly deemphasizing the massacres Israel has been perpetrating on the Palestinians in Gaza every day since.
This causes public attention to move in directions that benefit the information interests of the empire and away from directions that would harm those information interests, all without having to tell actual lies. People’s perception of the world is shaped by these skillful propagandists without their even being aware that it is happening.
That’s what makes the propaganda of the western empire so much more effective than any other propaganda that has ever existed anywhere else: the inhabitants of the western empire have no idea they’re being propagandized.

I hope that the above pasting of full text (which is hard to condense because of its elegance and surgical precision) will not be objected to by Caitlin. To reward her high quality hard work, please do click through to her full article and/or to her related tweet.

TLDR: loving the Botox right now. 40ish year old female.
*****
I got Botox in my armpits about 2 weeks ago for hyperhidrosis. First time treatment. So far, this is my experience. I'll break it down by my treatment experience first. Then I'll break it down on how the outcomes affect my life.
Treatment Experience

• I have never had the worst hyperhidrosis, but enough that it affected my life (more on that later). It only really affects me in my armpits.
• I have visited GPs (GP = general practitioner) about this many times in the past, and they just prescribe me medical strength aluminum that I have to put on once a week. I have tried this a number of times during my life, and it was never effective. When I was 19 years old and tried this, I actually got red burns in my armpits that made me cry they were so painful. Reflecting back, I was probably putting it on too frequently.
• I am originally from the US, and have lived in 5 other countries. I moved to Italy about 1.5 years ago. I visited my GP and asked for a Botox prescription and he happily gave it to me after I described my experience. Though I have access to the public health care system in Italy, the wait times are very long. Like most people, I carry private health insurance as a result. I wanted my treatment before summer started, otherwise I would have had to wait until November for an appointment in the public system.
• My appointment was with a neurologist in Milan. The procedure took about 15 minutes. There were around 20 pokes in each armpit. I have a high pain tolerance. I would rate this a 2 or 3 out of 10. Very pokey. I just took some very measured breathing to calm myself through it.
• The cost was €340 without insurance. My insurance covers the procedure. I have Googled other procedures in other cities and at cosmetic clinics I can see it ranging from 700 to 1,000 for a treatment.
• My neurologist told me that I would feel the effects within 4 to 10 days, and that they should last anywhere between 4 to 9 months. Some people report the effects are gone by 2 months, but he cannot treat me again before 3 months otherwise I can develop antibodies to the procedure.
• I already felt the effects on days 2 and 3, and everything was definitely in full swing by day 4. More on the effects/outcomes next.
• My neurologist did tell me that hands are more painful but all of his patients come back for their repeat treatments because the outcomes are worth the pain. He also offered that if I get underboob sweat that he can treat me there too (I declined this first time).

Outcome Experience First take:

• I would say that my sweating has dropped by 90-95%.
• If I do sweat, it just has a more "normal" acceptable odor to it rather than being gagging rancid.
• I am still wearing deoderant for the 5-10% but I only need to apply once a day. And some days I forget to apply.
• Even if my insurance didn't cover this treatment, I would pay for it out of pocket. I would not visit a cosmetic clinic though because their prices are higher, I would simply visit a neurologist and pay out of pocket for the treatment there (which is what I do anyway, run the credit card and get reimbursed by my insurance company).
• I have not noticed any increased sweating anywhere else on my body, however summer really only just started so will be monitoring/journaling that one closely.

It is almost hard to have known how badly my sweating affected me until after the procedure. Some of my own reflections:

• Ghost Sweat/Smell and Anxiety/Panic: It's going to take me a long time to lose the sweating/smelling panic and anxiety. I have this almost phantom sweating now. I go about my day, I think I feel that I'm starting to sweat, then I panic about "oh gosh, now I'm out in public and I'm going to smell bad and my shirt will be ruined and I will have to change before I go to dinner later and darnit I should have brought my deoderant with me and yuck I hope no one can smell me right now and I'll just keep my arms squished down to tightly pack the smell in there until I get home". And then I do a sweat and smell check - and there is nothing. No wet stains. I smell absolutely fine.
• Wardrobe Options Unlocked: Pre-Botox I would say that I was very limited in wardrobe options. I bought/wore maybe 10% of the possible outfits that I would actually like to wear. Shopping freaking sucked. I would not buy any clothing tops or dresses that touched my armpits. Period. So all of my clothes were either tank tops with a kimono or other cover top I could easily swap out when it got too sweaty/stinky, or very loose t-shirts. Nothing form fitting, ever (except swimsuits and tank tops). Even tank tops I was very particular that the lower portion needed to dip as low as possible, I could not wear any tank tops where the arm pit was tight/touching. It's crazy to think of the wardrobe styles and colors that have been unlocked now.
  • One story I tell my friends was a few years ago I was speaking at a conference of around 100-150 attendees. This is a normal part of my job, I love public speaking and thrive on it. Even so, I will of course get a bit anxious in the 1 hour before I go on. For this specific conference, I had worked with my executive coach to buy a new top that had a pop of color - something memorable - in bright blue silk. Luckily I was staying at an Airbnb about a 10 minute walk away from the facility. After arriving in the morning, within 30 minutes I looked down and I was soaking wet through this bright blue silk blouse, with wide water marks. I was horrified at my rookie mistake. I immediately ran back to my Airbnb, changed into my dull frumpy black top and black sweater, and then ran back to do my speech/panel.
• Travel Packing: Holy heck now I realize how people can travel so light with just a backpack. They can re-wear most of their clothing. I have always needed to bring a lot of change of clothes. Not necessarily bottoms, but tops yes. Because even though I might have the ability to at least hand wash, it may take too long for them to dry before I need to wear them again. So I just pack a little bit more clothes to be safe. Just this last week I never had to do laundry and I was on a 10 day trip, and I re-wore every top I put on at least 2-3 times. Some clothes I never even wore because I didn't need to. I have unlocked so much more possibility for traveling light.
• Cute Airport Looks: I am a person that believes you should look nice when you travel, and since you never know who you are going to meet then you should look your best to be ready for such random encounters. But, I never got to be that person because of my sweating. "Travel Day" (arrival and departure) was always just planned around the outfit that would make me sweat/smell the least. I wouldn't even bother putting on makeup because I felt gross and wet and stinky anyway so why bother? Usually by the time I got to the airport, I was already wet and smelly from going up and down stairs and taking public transportation, just trying to hide it for my flight until I could change and reapply deoderant. But now? I can look cute when I travel. Today I hauled my suitcase to the airport, flew home to Italy from the Netherlands, with no sweat and no smell. I'm really looking forward to finally being able to "dress cute" at the airport and feel confident in myself.
• Intimacy: Pre-Botox I would make my outfit and dating choices around my sweating. I would have to really analyze the situation, the weather, whether we would be sitting outdoors or indoors or in air conditioning or not, if he had air conditioning at his home or not, all to determine whether or not I would go home with him. All of that anxiety about sweating/smelling meant that intimacy was never spontaneous, always planned, which I hate. Additionally, if the stars did align for something spontaneous (perfect outfit choices for the setting) then if I got to his home and realized I didn't have any deoderant with me I would check his bathroom cabinet for spray deoderant. If I found spray deoderant that I could use to top up before getting sexy and to top up again in the morning, then I would stay over. If not, I would leave and go home. Another example of one my crutches: I would always stink in the morning so I would try my best to wake up before him, run to the bathroom and apply deoderant, and then come back to bed before any morning intimacy began.

Overall, 10 out of 10 will get the procedure done again when the effects have worn off.

My family has always treated me “lesser” compared to my siblings, but I was never jealous of them. I just wanted to be treated the same. During their graduation, they got 3x more money than me, a professional photoshoot, gifts, and flowers. I didn’t get any of that.
I only dislike my sister because she’s spoiled and always expects my mom to buy everything. She’s also always spending money because of her friend’s influence. My mom never punishes her for having a dirty room (she had a drawer filled with bugs and food) or her spending habits. She always talks about wanting kids, but the way she spends stuff… makes me really concerned on that future decision, especially when she always hangs with her friends. I get why though. When I was with my friends and boyfriend, I was more happy than being with my family because they ACTUALLY respond and listen to me. However, she calls my mom dumb for not buying her clothes that are $50 because of how much she makes. I hope she understands my moms pov when she has kids someday in the future.
Anyways… We’re currently traveling in Europe. I got into an argument with my entire family because they never listen to what I say. Feeling frustrated, I decided to just run off and leave. My sister texted me to walk back to the hotel because she was worried. She said she was annoyed that my mom didn’t care. Strangely enough, I felt more happy being alone and lost in a foreign country than when I’m with my family, which is strange. I wasn’t afraid. I was crying in public, while taking pictures of the pretty buildings, lol.
I feel really depressed after running away for the first time and realizing my mom doesn’t care about me. She just slept in the hotel room while I ran off. Now I get why my brother decided to ghost her. I’m never traveling with her again. I’m just going to go to college every summer so I can graduate early and leave.
The fact that my boyfriend’s family cares more about me is so sad. They always hype me up, call me pretty, give my boyfriend money to see me (LDR), and buy me gifts… while my family insults me all the time is depressing.
Btw, I eventually found my way to the hotel.

Please don't comment resources as that's not what I'm looking for. I'm still looking into that myself, but I've already extensively looked into a ton and all of them I'm either not qualified for, there is none for me, or I cannot access. And whenever someone directs me to a resource that I yet again can't access and I explain why I can't access it, I get told that I'm making excuses or disregarding everyone's advice and that because of that I'm part of the reason I'm stuck. That is not the case. I geniuenly keep running into dead ends, I have yet to find any resource I can access. But people don't want to believe that because people don't want to believe truly hopeless cases exist, which is why I'm done talking about resources with other people.
I'm 19F. I lost my childhood and adolescence to abuse and constraints of the special education system. I was abused by my mom and maternal grandma for a good chunk of my childhood, then after I was removed by CPS, I lived alone in a hospital room for about 3 weeks and then foster care for about a month or two and a half months before then going to live with my dad. I was in state custody for so long because my dad lived in another state. The children's hospital actually wasn't that bad but in both the foster homes they had bio kids who they poured all their emotional energy leaving the foster kids emotionally neglected. It was more like I was just a guest then their foster kid. Both my childhood abusers died and my abuse stories should've ended there. But it didn't. Because my dad turned out to be abusive too. Albeit he's not nearly as bad as my childhood abusers were, so for a while I hesitated to call what he does to me abuse. But it is. He's a narcissist and I'm the victim of his narcissistic abuse. I have been since shortly after I came back to my birth city to live with him, I still am today. I lost my adolescence to that, but I also lost a lot of normal teenage experiences to being in the special education system. I was first placed into special education in third grade, in another state, under "emotional disturbance" because I lashed out a lot at that age. I lashed out a lot at that age because I was being drugged at home. But the IEP didn't go away when I moved, so I stayed in special education the entire rest of my school days even as my circumstances drastically changed and even once I no longer met the criteria for emotional disturbance. Because of this, I only went to a normal middle school for one year and even during that year I had to have an aid follow me around to every normal class and in my sped class there we literally had a behavioral system that treated us like toddlers: "green zone, yellow zone, red zone" after this school year sent to an RTC by my school district over truancy, then when I got out I spent my last year of middle school and most of my high school years in special education alternative schools, specifically for emotional disturbance special education. I fell truant that year because i was extremely depressed and constantly felt suicidal but was trying to not kill myself because I was only 12/13 and I wanted to experience my teenage years. I couldn't handle school at the moment when all of my energy was going to trying to survive. I never spoke up about that though due to fear of being hospitalized, which I had already been 4 times before, so I know how much psych wards truly suck. Apparently my truancy that one school year was proof enough that I couldn't handle a normal school and so I was never placed in one again. Because I was stuck in sped schools for emotional disturbance, I never got to experience a normal high school or normal high school/teenage experiences. Teachers talked down to us like we were elementary schoolers and we had level behavioral systems again like we were toddlers and it made me feel very set back, especially since I no longer met the criteria for emotional disturbance by this point. I didn't need any of this. None of my high schools had any extracurriculars, clubs, or even school events. I only had one teacher and one classroom most of my high school years like in elementary school. The high school I went to for the longest had a max of 24 students and 2 teachers. I was forced to go to therapy at all these alternative schools and RTC's as well which had no effect on me. Even worse, the school psychologists kept lying to me and telling me if I did good for X amount of time I'd get to go to a normal high school. I worked my ass off to do amazing for X amount of time, and then they went back and said "it's too early to send you to a normal high school yet" and this happened repeadetly until I realized they were lying. And I never went to one. Then when I was 16 I became having health issues with chronic fatigue so severe at times I could barely even walk. This caused me to fall truant in school again. But the doctors ran basic bloodwork tests and basic exams and found nothing wrong, so nobody believed me. I was sent to an RTC again, where I spent my last semester of high school, before turning 18 there and signing myself out as well as dropping out of high school. All my adolescence, lost. Missed out on every typical high school and teenage experience. Now onto my current situation. I still live with my dad. I don't have a job and haven't ever had one yet. Before I completely stopped working with sped, some cool people from the district encouraged me to apply for SSI. I was hesitant to as I didn't think I'd qualify for that, but they insisted and told me that with my IEP and school documents I do qualify under a severe mental disability. So I figured I'd give it a shot. I also had a similar conversation with a therapist when I was 16 or 17, so seeing as they weren't the first people to highly encourage me to apply for it also helped my decision to give it a shot. Well, it's been eight months since I applied and no answer yet. It looks like it'll take closer for a year for them to come to a decision but I don't have that long before I become homeless. Because of this, I've considered withdrawing my application and looking for a job, but I can't as it requires a printer and being able to mail something, 2 things I cannot do. I do not have a printer and am unable to mail anything. I cannot apply for a job with a pending SSI application. Not only will it defeat the whole purpose and essentially kill any potential chance I may have had, but it could potentially be considered fraud since I don't have the means to report it. Because of this situation, I have no income, so I have no money. I also have no means of transportation, as I cannot drive, and since i have no money I cannot afford public transportation, and the only free transportation in my city is for seniors, I'm not a senior. So walking is my only way to get around, but that's getting harder overtime as my unexplained fatigue symptom has been getting worse again lately and I've struggled to walk down the block. My dad HATES me, and he wants to get rid of me, and he will. That's his only end goal, is to get rid of me. To get me out of his life, out of the picture. He recently called the cops on me after me and him and his wife got into another arguement and explained to them that he doesn't want me here. He also lied to them that I was the only one yelling and causing a disturbance, when everybody was yelling. The cops told him that they cannot get me for trespassing because our address is on my ID's, (and other forceful ways to try to kick someone out like changing the locks or packing up/tossing out all their stuff on their behalf is illegal in my state, so he cannot forcefully kick me out st all) so to kick me out he would have to go through the whole court process to evict me. That whole process could take a couple months or so and he doesn't wanna wait that long, he wants me gone asap, so he is also considering just moving out without me, which would just suddenly force me out on the street without any notice at all, unlike an eviction which would have a date I'd know and a notice. I'm not sure which one he's going to do yet, but I know for sure he is going to do one of them as I know for sure his end goal is to get rid of me. I've talked to other family members about this and they're all manipulated by my dad somehow whether they like me or not. My dad uses DARVO so a lot of my family members think I'm the villain and hate me, and blame me and say it's my fault this is happening to me. And even the one family member that still loves me, and actually know me somewhat beyond the lies and distortions he spews about me, she doesn't believe me. When I told her about his plan to kick me out within the next couple months or so, her first response was "he wouldn't do that, he's just saying that out of frustration, he loves you." Yeah, I'm sorry, but no he doesn't. She was there when he pulled a gun on me and had me fearing for my life so I seriously don't know how she could still believe that even after that and many other instances proving the opposite. Even after I confirmed with my dad over text after our last argument has blown over that he is still planning on kicking me out, and screenshotted it and sent it to her to prove to her he really is kicking me out, her response was then "well, it's because you're not doing anything with your life, that's not good, you need to do something with your life." EVERYBODY is finding something to pin the blame on me. EVERYBODY is missing the biggest factor here. The biggest factor here is that my dad hates me and wants me gone. That's it, that's the point of this, no other factor really truly matters here. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, they use the fact I have no income and am waiting on social security since I can't withdraw as some kind of leverage against me like "well if you would get up off your lazy ass and get a job and make money and do something with your life and contribute something maybe your dad would let you stay, he doesn't want you there because all you do is use up all of his resources that he pays for while you contribute nothing." (yes, these are things I have been told before.) Well, first of all, they're missing the bigger picture if they're thinking that's how it is, that is NOT the case, and secondly, THEY'RE MISSING THE POINT. Even if I was working/had a steady income since 15 and paying for all my own food, clothes, hygiene products, and even paying half the rent, THAT WOULD NOT MATTER, that would not be good enough for my dad because I'd still be living here. He's said himself before that all he really wants is for me to move out, no matter what. My income situation has nothing to do with this. And in today's economy + the rich area I live in, even if I had been working already, I still would not yet have enough money to move out. It would take years to save up enough to move out. My dad will not let me stay here for years. He hates me and he wants me gone asap, period. That's all there really is to it. I have nobody I can stay with. I can't stay with any other family or friends. I cannot go to a homeless shelter as I have no means of transportation and no money to afford public transportation. And I cannot buy supplies because no money. I truly have nowhere else to go, so when the day comes that my dad has successfully reached my end goal and kicked me out, I will be on the streets with nothing to help me survive. I don't think I will live for very long like that. Seeing as the court eviction process to evict an adult child takes a couple months or so so if he goes that route I will be homeless on the streets in a couple months or so, and if he decides to go the moving out without me route instead, that might be even sooner if he can find another place for himself, his wife, their baby, and 3 pets even sooner, then I will be homeless on the streets whenever they find a new place, possibly even sooner than a couple months or so. My 20th birthday is six months away. I will not make it to that. I will not have the means to survive for that much longer. A couple months or so is the max time I have left. Maybe another extra month or two if he decides to go the court ordered eviction route and the second eviction deadline by the court is another 30 or 60 days. But that's it. That's still less than six months away. So, my life, gone. My future, gone. Any chances I had at living an adult life, gone. My future and life was completely ripped away from me at 19. I won't survive to my 20th birthday. This is it. It's over. I won't get to experience my 20's either. Every phase of my life was taken away from me. I never had a chance at life.

EDIT: I just changed it so that Godzilla is his correct age, the Rival fight is before the Shimo fight, and that Gojiras don't reproduce asexually
4,000,000,000 BCE The Earth is created. Inside of the Earth is a large area called Hollow Earth. Hollow Earth is different than the surface as time and gravity can sometimes behave differently. Every planet contains Hollow Earth Ore which comes from the core and is the reason for the almost unnatural place. The Hollow Earth is also filled with tons of radiation that comes from the Hollow Earth Ore. The Hollow Earth also contains Vortexes, which are almost like portals in between the Hollow Earth and the surface.
400,000,000 BCE In Hollow Earth, many creatures begin to evolve to be extremely big. Some even reaching 200 feet tall. They are called Titans and are the apex predators of Earth. Most Titans feed off radiation, making Hollow Earth a perfect habitat.
290,000,000 BCE Many Titans have evolved to be much bigger. Some can even reach over 400 feet tall.
270,000,000 BCE Many Titans have made their way to the surface through Vortexes and vast tunnel systems. The surface of the Earth has tons of radiation that has been untouched since Earth's creation.
250,000,00 BCE Some reptiles have evolved into Titans called Gojiras. Gojiras are powerful Titans that can grow to be almost 400 feet tall. However, their height fluctuates based on how much radiation they can eat. Gojiras can also live to be millions of years old, however none have lived that long because they are always killed by other Titans. Some Gojiras can even harness the power of radiation if they have enough of it. If they are extra radiation in a Gojira, and that Gojira is strong enough, they can use it in the form of Atomic Pulses or Atomic Breaths. Atomic Pulses are large shockwaves of radiation that can burn and kill things around it. Atomic Breaths are a laser beam of energy that is concentrated and shot out of a Gojiras mouth. An asteroid that kills 90% of life strikes the surface. This forces the surviving surface Titans to go into deep hibernation and only come out every few million years. This also stops the migration of Titans to the surface.
200,000,000 BCE Some ancient species of Titans have evolved into creatures called Monoliths. Monoliths are powerful creatures that full live off radiation and can grow to be miles long. They need very specific and perfect conditions to survive due to their size.
150,000,000 BCE With new types of animals such as mammals appearing in the Hollow Earth, many of them evolve into Titans. Some examples of this are Jishin-Mushis which are mammal Titans that are parasitic. Or Methuselahs that are large turtle-like Titans that carry small mountains on their backs.
100,000,000 BCE A new type of bug Titan evolves called Mosura. Mosuras look just like moths except have a wingspan of 803 feet and are 52 feet tall. The interesting thing about these Titans is that there offspring carries their conscious. For example, a Mosura will lay a few eggs all around Hollow Earth, but these eggs cannot hatch until their mother is dead, Once the mother dies, only one egg can hatch, and that new Mosura will carry the memories and mind of its mother. If that Mosura dies before it can lay an egg, one of its siblings will hatch and carry the memories of its mother and sibling. All of this can also happen if the Mosura is in hibernation. When that happens, the Mosura cannot wake up until its child dies or goes into hibernation.
70,000,000 BCE Almost all Monoliths are dead. The Earth and Hollow Earth are not in the perfect conditions for Monoliths, and they go extinct.
40,000,000 BCE In Hollow Earth, three different species of Great Apes evolved. These species are the Uprights, the Knuckles, and the Kings. The Uprights are the smartest apes and walk on two legs. The Knuckles are bigger than the Uprights and walk on their knuckles. The Kings are the largest at 25 feet tall and also walk on two legs.
6,000,000 BCE The Great Apes have evolved more. The Uprights evolved into Chimpanzees, Bonobos, and Humans. The Knuckles have evolved into Gorillas and Orangutangs. And the Kings have evolved into Titans called Kongs and Reds. Chimpanzees are the third smartest and walk on their knuckles. Bonobos are just like Chimpanzees except a bit smaller. Humans are the smartest Apes, have lost all their hair, and not only are the smartest of the apes but are the smartest creatures to have ever lived. Gorillas are strong, walk on knuckles, and are the fourth smartest of the apes. Orangutangs are similar to Gorillas except are red, are smaller, and not as strong. Kongs are Titans that can grow to be almost 400 feet tall, they are also the second smartest apes. Finally, Reds are Titans that are similar to Kongs, except that they are lanky, skinny, and red. The Kongs and Reds are some of the only Titans to not survive off of radiation and actually have to eat. Kongs and Reds can also live up to 2,000 years old.
5,000,000 BCE In Hollow Earth, a Gojira named Godzilla is born from a powerful parent. Right off the bat he is stronger than most and survives quite easily. He also is one of the few Gojiras to use Atomic Breath and Atomic Pulse. Godzilla also makes his way up to the surface where he becomes the most powerful Titan up there.
4,500,000 BCE A very large and powerful Kong arrives on the surface. His name is The Rival. He emerges in the home of Godzilla. This wakes Godzilla and they fight. After a long battle Godzilla loses and is kicked out of his home.
3,000,000 BCE An offshoot species of Gojiras called Shimos are going extinct. Shimos are bigger than Gojiras and have similar abilities to them. Shimos can shoot a beam called a Frost Bite Blast that freezes anything it touches. There entire bodies are so cold that the ground can sometimes turn to ice when they walk. The last Shimo ever is born in a lower layer of Hollow Earth called the Subterranean Realm. She is the last member of her species and will be called Shimo for simplicity's sake.
2,000,000 BCE Shimo has made her way to the surface and immediately starts shooting at the sky. She does this because she has never seen the Sun before and it hurts her eyes. She ends up hitting a cloud causing it grow and grow. This cloud eventually becomes a massive storm that blocks out the Sun. This gives Shimo some peace of mind. However, this awakens Godzilla who starts to attack the young Shimo. He ends up winning the fight and drives her back into Hollow Earth. But that does not stop what she did. Because of the coldness of her Frost Bite Blast, the storm she created will not stop. The storm eventually grows to cause an Ice Age.
500,000 BCE An alien species called Ghidorahs roam the galaxy. Ghidorahs grow up on their home planet before being sent off into deep space. Once a Ghidorah discovers a planet with life they take it over and then live out the rest of its life eating Hollow Earth Radiation. Ghidorahs also have three heads with their own personalities. But as long as the middle on survives, all of the heads survive. Ghidorahs are also massive with a 1,300-foot wingspan and a height of 521 feet. They also can use electricity and radiation to create a Gravity Beam. Gravity Beams are yellow beams of lighting similar in power to Atomic Breath. One Ghidorahs discovers Earth and begins to take it over. This Ghidorah is simply called King Ghidorah with its head being named Ichi, Ni, and Kevin. Ni is the right most head and follows anything Ichi says. Ichi is the middle head, controls most of the body, and is in charge of the others. Kevin is the left most head, the most often killed, and the stupidest of them. When King Ghidorah arrives on Earth, he starts the War on Ghidorah. The War on Ghidorah is the first time in history where 90% of Titans team up to stop a common threat. For thousands of years King Ghidorah is fought and kept away from Hollow Earth. Some Titans, like Godzilla, are even able to kill Kevin. But he always comes back right after the fight. Eventually, King Ghidorah discovers a Vortex to Hollow Earth in Antartica. However, when he arrives, he is met with three Titans. Godzilla, Shimo, and a Mosura named Mothra. It is a long fight where Godzilla uses his Atomic Breath many times. The fight ends with Shimo being able to freeze King Ghidorah in ice. Although all Titans go back to fighting like animals after this, the Gojiras, Kongs, Reds, and Mosuras decide to keep the peace between them.
400,000 BCE After 100,000 years of peace, a rouge Kong ends up killing a small Gojira. This breaks the peace and starts the Great Titan War. The Gojiras begin slaughtering the Kongs and Reds, but due to how many there are it doesn't kill all of them. A Gojira could easily take on a Kong or Red in a fight, but not 10 of them. Because of how many Kongs and Reds there are, and how powerful Gojiras are, this makes the war even.
390,000 BCE After 10,000 years of fighting, the Great Titan War ends. The Kongs and Reds won with almost all of the Gojiras being dead, except for two. Godzilla and Dagon. Dagon is another old and powerful Gojira that survived the war. The victory of the Kongs and Reds did come at a cost. There populations were split and low. The Reds decided to stay away from the Kongs and keep to themselves as they were few Reds left. The Kongs have split into two tribes, the Royals and the Great Apes. The Royals rule the main area of Hollow Earth and have turned the dorsal plate of a Gojira into an axe that they use to show power. The Great Apes rule the Subterranean Realm and are trapped there by the Royals, Godzilla, Dagon, and Mothra.
200,000 BCE Mothra, the Titan that helped stop King Ghidorah, is Godzilla's lifelong friend. Mothra's consciousness has been passed on through thousands of generations of Mosura, and over the past tens of millions of years this Mothra conscious has formed a friendship with Godzilla. Mothra has just laid an egg on the surface for the first time.
100,000 BCE The Humans have formed a civilization called the Iwi. They have learned to speak, write, wear clothes, and build large structures. They also worship Mothra who is currently hibernating in their kingdom. The Iwi has learned from Mothra to speak to each other through their minds. Using this ability, they are able to form a strong connection with the Kong, specifically the Royals.
50,000 BCE Many apes start to go to the surface. Humans and other Human species make their way to the surface carrying Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Gorillas, and Orangutangs with them. The first few civilizations start in places like the Middle East, Europe, and Africa. A small civilization forms in the Middle East called the Mesopotamia and will be the beacon of the future of Humanity. Another large civilization forms on an island off the coast of Europe called Atlantis. Atlantis is a massive city with huge buildings and statues. Atlantis is the hub for Hominid life and contains all species of man. However, places like Europe, Asia, the Americas, and Africa are not so excepting and devolve into war. This massive War of Man ends with only three Hominid species surviving. These species being Humans, Neanderthals, and Denisovans. The War of Man destroys any surviving main land civilizations. The only city surviving city was Mesopotamia and it was demoted to a village. Atlantis was unaffected by the War of Man and still has countless Human species in it. Meanwhile a random group of Iwi get trapped on a surface island called Skull Island. Skull Island is a remote pacific island with a one-way Vortex on it. This causes it to be filled with countless dangerous Titans. These Iwi becomes isolated.
45,000 BCE Godzilla wakes up and walks around looking for food. He is seen by the Atlanteans, and they begin to build something for him.
42,000 BCE Godzilla is awoken again and this time he discovers that a bed was built for him in Atlantis. Godzilla uses this bed and is worshipped by the Atlanteans. Every day they walk around looking at him, praying to him, and respecting him. Godzilla is happy.
40,000 BCE After living in isolation and fear for 10,000 years, the Skull Iwi are saved. The Skull Crawlers have been revenging and ruling Skull Island for millennia, but recently they have started to have been killed. It turns out they the Royals in Hollow Earth have almost fully broken apart. The last surviving Ryals have escaped to Skull Island. Thousands of 100-foot-tall Skull Crawlers fight around fifty 400-foot tall Kongs. This starts the Skull Island War.
25,000 BCE The Humans begin their worldwide crusade. They start in Africa and make their way through Europe, Asia, Australia, North America, South America killing all Neanderthals and Denisovans along the way. Also around this time, Atlantis is flooded and pulled under the ocean. All Atlanteans and surviving non-Human hominids are killed in this flood. This leaves Godzilla sad and lonely.
11,000 BCE Dagon, the only remaining Gojira other than Godzilla gets into a fight with a Jinshin-Mushi named MUTO Prime. After fighting and chasing for years, MUTO Prime is able to overpower Dagon and lay her eggs inside him. After about a decade of struggle Dagon dies in a large cave where the baby Jinshin-Mushis named Hokmuto, Femuto, and Queen MUTO eat his insides. This makes Godzilla the only living Gojira.
5,000 BCE The past few generations of Kongs on Skull Island have been almost three times smaller than what they usually are. This is because they have limited food sources, are constantly at war, and are constantly under stress. If given the right conditions they could grow to their normal size, but they will stay like this until then. The Skull Island was easy at first for the Kongs as they were triple the size of them, but now that they are even in size, they are much harder to kill.
1000 Over the past almost 400,000 years, the Reds have been living in solitude. Due to lack of outside connections, and in fighting, they have gone extinct, except for one. There is only one remaining Red alive and his name is Skar King. He is only about 500 years old and still quite young. He discovers Shimo, who has been peacefully living in the Subterranean Realm since the War on Ghidorah. He is able to rip a dorsal crystal off her back and before she kills him, he uses it to control her. This crystal that he ripped off her can cause her extreme pain when pointed at her. Skar King uses this to manipulate and control her. Using Shimo, Skar King is able to take over the Great Apes. He turns them all into slaves and lock up Shimo behind a wall of lava.
1500 Skar King decides to mate with three Kongs. Those Kongs give birth to Skar Kings sons. The names of these sons are One-Eye, Stone Face, and Catcher. These kids are hybrids of Kongs and Reds.
1502 Godzilla briefly wakes up and takes a stroll through Europe.
1597 The last Kong on Skull Island is born. His name is King Kong. King Kong's parents are killed by Skull Crawlers as they leave him to be the last Kong on Skull Island. This ends the Skull Island War with the Skull Crawlers winning. However, now there is only one big Skull Crawler left, the rest have died. This Skull Crawler is named Ramarak.
1700 One-Eye, Stone Face, and Catcher are old enough and strong enough to help Skar King. He makes them second in command and calls them the Red Stripes. Meanwhile on Skull Island, Ramarak starts to have kids. However, King Kong is old enough to start killing these young Skull Crawlers. As if any of them got to be as Ramarak, they would easily kill him. King Kong and Ramarak have a deep-rooted hatred and rivalry. With them both being the most powerful and practically the last of their kind, although they hate each other, they are very similar.
1927 Skar King has another son named Suko. Suko carries much more Red genetics then Kong genetics, making him practically a successor to Skar King.

I broke up with her May (forgot the exact date) 2023, I told her that I want to focus more on my studies. Yeah, I know its not a good reason but I'll tell you guys later.
Before me and my ex (let's just call her Chichi and I feel sorry for those who have similar nicknames) became a couple we used to be friends and I also had a girlfriend that time. Months, later we broke up and there Chichi comflirted me.
It was February 14, she invited me to do the "pretend to be a couple" challenge and so we did. Later on she confessed that she wanted this to be real and thats how our relationship started.
As our relationship goes on these are the things I recall: •She always goes out with her friends •hangs out with guys, and stays up late. •One time one of her friends told me that Chichi got drunk and stripped off her own clothes. •kissed another girl and while they were kissing she mentioned another guys name. • She works at the cafe for free because of the other guy • she hits me in public even her own younger siblings (like dv) • I missed a lot of opportunities such as receiving a scholarship from Universities just so I can please her.
I tried breaking up with her because she cheated on me many times (I couldn't even count how many times) but she insisted that she didn't cheat and gets mad if I don't accept her apology.
As May arrived, my father got into a critical condition and we don't have anybody who could look after my father (just my mother tho). We couldn't even pay the hospital bill since he's gone into multiple surgeries and many doctors told us that he's in a 50-50 condition, It was also my Finals Exam that time. And there, Chichi cheated on me again, but this time I ended our relationship for good and I told her that I want to focus on myself and my studies because if I told her its because I caught her cheating she'll still insist that she did not cheat.
How can I get to the point where if someone mentions her name, it wouldn't bother or trigger me anymore?

[First] [Previous] [Next]
With the use of ancient and forbidden magic, a handful of Mages erased the collective memory of the world, turning many innocent practitioners into mere Sleepers. Only a few trusted folk were left with access to the Runes, and the vast majority of those left with power united to form two sister organizations: The Exodus Corps and the Genesis Corps. One to oversee mages, and one to look after Sleepers.

“Okay, two things.” Tav interrupted once again. “First, I have never heard of any of those, so I assume they either died off or are a secret.”

“Correct on both accounts.” Mustafá nodded.

“I guess Genesis is no more then.” The youth blinked. “Anyways… So we are dealing with Exodus now, which has the power to erase and rewrite memories!? What hope do we have against power like that!?”

The alchemist closed her eyes. She agreed, full heartedly, that such tremendous power shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone.

“I am unsure if such magic is possible anymore, with the changes in how information works and flows in our world.” Mustafá shrugged softly. “But it is not worth it to worry about that, at least not for now. May I continue?”

With Tav’s nod, the old mage continued her story.

The arrival of the Age of Silence did not stop the efforts of humanity for complete control of Jericho. More and more magical beings were erased or enslaved, for people considered them an abomination against their new understanding of the world.

Until everything reached a breaking point.

Mustafá glared for a moment, falling silent and taking a sip of her tea before resuming.

One day, all of a sudden, all magical creatures disappeared from the face of Jericho, apparently at the same time. And soon after that… a mist began spreading through the entire world. A thick, malicious fog carrying horrors of flesh and bone to Jericho, turning animals and humans alike into abominations which had been hidden in the imagination of men for the longest time.

The survivors came to call this cataclysmic event ‘The First Sacrifice’, and it is thought to be the revenge of the forsaken Presences of Jericho, and the many displaced magical creatures.

“It took centuries to rebuild the world after that.” Mustafá said, looking into her cup of tea. “It was terrible for everyone involved… and now, a little beyond six hundred years later, we are facing the start of a Second Sacrifice, a return of the same mist that once covered the world, and the horrors that come with it.”

Storytime was over. Tav’s eyes stared into the middle distance as she tried to imagine it, a fog so thick that could cover the Sun in its entirety. Nightmarish beings roaming the land, death for everyone. She shivered, closing her eyes and trembling for a moment before looking at her teacher once again.

“Wait. How do you even know it is coming? How can you be so sure?” The youth questioned.

“I learned to see the signs, the shifts in the mana of the world, the changes in the Third Layer, the apparent reduction in the amount of unexplainable events.” The alchemist sighed, before forcing herself to admit. “I am not the only one who has been fearing this, nor the only one who has confirmed its coming.”

“H-How long do we have?” The apprentice was starting to feel the pressure. “Is there something we can do!?”

“I don’t have a specific date, but I know that it must happen this year.” Mustafá shook her head, setting her empty cup on the table. “As per what we can do… the book must be the answer. It was written by one of the greatest minds from the First Sacrifice.”

“Humiko did look like the sort of person who knew things…” Tav mumbled mostly to herself. “... Where will it all start?”

“The North Pole.” The teacher nodded softly.

“That’s where we have to go as soon as this book is translated, then. That’s what her introduction said…” The young one finished her cup of tea in one gulp, setting it down as well. “Let’s get to it.”

If Mustafá had the power of smiling right there, she would. Her lips curled up, ever so slightly, as she nodded and cracked her knuckles, walking over to the pile of dried clothes and pulling her turban out. She couldn’t teach without it, at least she felt that way.

“Where’s the iron? I wish to iron my clothes.” The alchemist stretched lazily. “Once that’s done, we are leaving again. We will practice in your assigned Elysium.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous? Anyone could see us.” Tav asked to divert from the fact that she didn’t exactly remember where her iron was.

“That’s the point. You need to be seen, at least a little bit, before people stop suspecting you of being evil, or worse, a leech on society.” Mustafá, catching the nervous glances of her apprentice, just sighs and conjures both an iron and an ironing board with a flick of her wrist.

The younger one sighs in relief, before she suddenly realizes something.

“Wait, if you can just conjure stuff like that, why did we have to go to Obuda for bread!? Couldn’t you just summon or create the bread instead of paying for it!?”

“I am not good at making bread.” The alchemist answered, setting her clothes on the board and plugging in the iron.

“Oh but you’re good at making electrical appliances?” The apprentice grew rowdy.

“One.” Mustafá began counting with her fingers. “I am not creating these, I am technically summoning them from my apartment. Two, I am very good at making electrical appliances, thank you. Three, you can only create the objects that you actually understand, so even if I know how bread is made, my lack of talent for baking means my produce will always be inferior to an actual baker.”

“Oh…” Tav frowned. “I guess that makes sense…”

“Four. Just for that, you’re ironing my clothes.” The teacher walked back to her seat.

“Argh, you bitch…”

Knowing that arguing with this woman was useless, the apprentice sighed and got to work immediately, politely leaving the underwear on the side to work with the rest of the clothes. She had her limits.


Honestly, when I started thinking and hearing about Elysiums as magical places, I was expecting something far more mystical or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with a mysterious building in the middle of the city, no; I guess these hideouts need to keep appearances up so people don’t come around making the wrong questions, but… a Cat Café? Really? I didn’t even know we had one in Saüle!

Entering wasn’t a problem, for the place opened quite early in the morning. Soon enough, Mustafá and I are sitting on a puffy couch, in the middle of a warm and comfortable living room decorated with pastel colours and many figurines of cats… not to mention the REAL cats, gathering around Mustafá like bees to honey while completely ignoring me.

She doesn’t look really happy about it.

“The more magical potential you develop, the more you start attracting cats. Or repelling them. It’s a coin toss, depends on the cat really.” She explains with a sigh. “That’s why cats make good familiars.”

“So familiars are a thing, huh?” I tilt my head.

“Of course they are a thing. Did you really think no one would try magic with animal companions? They are dumb as bricks, but useful if you are into that.” Mustafá clearly wasn’t into that, gently pushing the cats away from her as they purred and seeked her attention. “Shoo.”

To keep appearances, and to enjoy the delicious hot cocoa they serve here, we decide to stay a bit in the actual café… but soon enough, Mustafá grows restless and annoyed with all the attention and demands we go into the Elysium proper. Right when I am finally managing to bond with a silly but loving orange cat! I don’t even manage to make the silly lasagna cat joke when she pulls me by the arm and takes me over to the kind lady tending to the café.

I don’t even get the chance to speak when suddenly my teacher pulls out both of our credentials. For a moment I think her mad… but then, I try to put those feelings down and trust her. She is my teacher now, after all! She’s supposed to know what she’s doing.

“Ah…” The lady nodded, recognition in her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were kin. Let me register your entrance.”

Mustafá probably feels my eyes on her, asking questions in silence, because she immediately says:

“Most Elysiums, except for the more public ones, have a guardian that keeps tabs on who enters and who exits them. The members of the Brotherhood are fascists.”

I immediately tell her to hush up, checking to see if the café lady heard her. Luckily, she seems busy looking for her note book. With a sigh, I turn to Mustafá and shake my finger.

“Don’t. Say those things. We all think them, we all know they are true, but we don’t just call a pig a pig to its face!!” I can feel the strength leaving my body as I tell this to her. Her lack of common sense is killing me.

“You’re way too soft.” She simply says, shrugging as the tending lady returns with an open book. “Put your thumb on the page and sign your name.”
I do as she says, even though there’s no ink to dunk my finger in or anything. The paper itself takes the print from my thumb and I feel a little burning sensation on my skin for a few seconds. With a wince I pull my hand off, shaking it for a moment and then taking the pencil to sign my name besides the black print.

Mustafá does the same soon enough, without even caring about the burn, and then we are both directed to a door ‘in the end of the hallway, to your left’. She just lets us leave, just like that! Not even doubting our intentions or anything. Again, I turn to my teacher as we walk through the hall.

“What was that all about?”

“To avoid people using glamour, which is a thing by the way, to sneak in with other identities, they use special paper to reveal your real identity using your fingerprints.” She shrugs.

“What, can’t you change your fingerprints with magic?” I grin, feeling smart and subversive.

“No.” She answers calmly, turning to the left and facing a wall in the hallway. “One of the aspects in which Sleeper Technology has surpassed us is the ability to modify and take care of the body.”

Now that takes me by surprise.

“So there’s no magical medicine?!” I say, louder than I intended.

“You can make magical remedies and enhancements, but magic can’t directly warp the body in any shape or form.” She explained, looking for the Phi symbol carved in the wall. “We are too dense, too attached to our body… It’s also forbidden to even try. We don’t want to end up with another ‘Flesh Sculptor’ situation.”

“A what situation?” Now that has to be made up, I demand for it to be made up.

“Ah, here it is.” Mustafá ignores me once more, pushing a finger against the symbol on the wall and letting her magic do the rest… I watch the octarine travel through her body into the wooden wall, forming a round door leading to a set of stairs. “Come.”

“No, seriously, what was that about ‘Flesh Sculptors’!?” I follow closely to her, watching our access into the dark stairway close right behind us.

“Don’t worry about it. They used to be a great number of them among the necromancers, but lately it’s just an old wives’ tale. Something to make little kids wet their pants.” Again, the damn crone (because I am sure she’s far older than she looks) comes so close to smiling it is actually a bit unnerving.

Honestly… the more I learn of this magical world, the more scared I feel.

I loved writing this I may include it in my story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55923487/chapters/143598640) at some point
I stretched my hands out in front of me and then over the top of my head before dramatically sighing.
‘My joints ache.’ I thought as I watched Eraserhead tie up the criminal we had just caught. His face was screwed up as he grunted something under his breath.
“Hey Eraserhead, why the sour look?” I asked, leaning against the metal pole.
“I looked up the hero name Saviour last night.” I tensed, backing away slightly.
“And you found my oh so brilliant reports? What jealous?” I mocked with a smirk as I began to plan out the quickest escape route. I watched as Eraserhead collected his scarf in his hands.
I already knew what was coming.
“Your reports were nonexistent, you're operating without a hero licence.” And there it was.
I dodged the incoming attack, running up the stairs as I flipped out my grappling hook. It attached to the metal bar a few floors up and tugged me up there.
“Come on Eraser, just leave it be!” I exclaimed as he chased after me. My feet connected with the landing and I ran out the fire escape door. The cold wind greeted me as I looked down at the city below me.
“Just give yourself up, you have nowhere to run.” He said.
“You should know I don't have a fear of heights by now!” I said, launching my grappling hook at the next building over. Then, without hesitation, I jumped off, swinging to the next building. The landing was a bit tricky however I managed it with only a few scratches.
Eraserhead, being the well seasoned pro that I was not, was already stood in front of me.
I eyed the edge of a ladder.
“Don't move!”
I did the opposite, jumping down the building and grabbing a hold of the ladder. Once I had my feet in place, I removed one of my hands and deployed the grappling hook. The second it connected with the next building, I jumped off, letting it carry me over.
I repeated the motion with the next building, landing in a roll before pushing myself up and rushing down the stairs to the alleyway below.
Even when I was on the ground I didn't allow my legs or grappling hook to rest. Although I couldn't hear him, I knew Eraserhead was close, so I continued running through the labyrinth.
‘Maybe I can change into some new clothes…’ I thought, rushing around a corner and jumping yet another wall. And there it was, heaven in disguise, a public restroom.
I looped around the back, running around the alleyway again just to increase my chances of actually losing him before I ducked there, taking off my spandex.
Thankfully, I had the foresight to wear my civilian clothing beneath however I hadn't had the foresight to ensure it was actually warm or to bring a backpack.
I folded up the suit, ditching it and the grappling hook up in some cabinet.
‘I'll come back for it later.’ I thought before looking out of the small window.
‘Good he's not there.’ I thought, opening the window and climbing out.
It was a big fall between the window sill and the garbage skit but it was either that or walking out the door, which Eraserhead would've noticed the building had already.
I sighed, grabbing ahold of the window sill and dangling off.
‘Maybe I can swing to that—’
My grip slipped.
“Oh shit—”
And then I fell.

I loved writing this I may include it in my story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55923487/chapters/143598640) at some point
I stretched my hands out in front of me and then over the top of my head before dramatically sighing.
‘My joints ache.’ I thought as I watched Eraserhead tie up the criminal we had just caught. His face was screwed up as he grunted something under his breath.
“Hey Eraserhead, why the sour look?” I asked, leaning against the metal pole.
“I looked up the hero name Saviour last night.” I tensed, backing away slightly.
“And you found my oh so brilliant reports? What jealous?” I mocked with a smirk as I began to plan out the quickest escape route. I watched as Eraserhead collected his scarf in his hands.
I already knew what was coming.
“Your reports were nonexistent, you're operating without a hero licence.” And there it was.
I dodged the incoming attack, running up the stairs as I flipped out my grappling hook. It attached to the metal bar a few floors up and tugged me up there.
“Come on Eraser, just leave it be!” I exclaimed as he chased after me. My feet connected with the landing and I ran out the fire escape door. The cold wind greeted me as I looked down at the city below me.
“Just give yourself up, you have nowhere to run.” He said.
“You should know I don't have a fear of heights by now!” I said, launching my grappling hook at the next building over. Then, without hesitation, I jumped off, swinging to the next building. The landing was a bit tricky however I managed it with only a few scratches.
Eraserhead, being the well seasoned pro that I was not, was already stood in front of me.
I eyed the edge of a ladder.
“Don't move!”
I did the opposite, jumping down the building and grabbing a hold of the ladder. Once I had my feet in place, I removed one of my hands and deployed the grappling hook. The second it connected with the next building, I jumped off, letting it carry me over.
I repeated the motion with the next building, landing in a roll before pushing myself up and rushing down the stairs to the alleyway below.
Even when I was on the ground I didn't allow my legs or grappling hook to rest. Although I couldn't hear him, I knew Eraserhead was close, so I continued running through the labyrinth.
‘Maybe I can change into some new clothes…’ I thought, rushing around a corner and jumping yet another wall. And there it was, heaven in disguise, a public restroom.
I looped around the back, running around the alleyway again just to increase my chances of actually losing him before I ducked there, taking off my spandex.
Thankfully, I had the foresight to wear my civilian clothing beneath however I hadn't had the foresight to ensure it was actually warm or to bring a backpack.
I folded up the suit, ditching it and the grappling hook up in some cabinet.
‘I'll come back for it later.’ I thought before looking out of the small window.
‘Good he's not there.’ I thought, opening the window and climbing out.
It was a big fall between the window sill and the garbage skit but it was either that or walking out the door, which Eraserhead would've noticed the building had already.
I sighed, grabbing ahold of the window sill and dangling off.
‘Maybe I can swing to that—’
My grip slipped.
“Oh shit—”
And then I fell.

AGP AND FEMINIZATION STORIES HAVE RUINED MY LIFE!!!
I can't do this any longer especially as a Christian (it's a sin). I'm an AGP who's first experience ever masturbating was by reading a forced feminization story at 12 years old while wearing some of my mother's older clothes that she was going to donate soon. THIS IS ALL I KNOW! I've only masturbated to normal, heterosexual sexual fantasies a few times in my entire life, despite the fact that I myself am 100% heterosexual and love women. In fact, I liked girls so much at a young age that it's the entire reason why I got into AGP/feminization shit in the first place! I've had low self-esteem for literally my entire life, and have always been super skinny, so I never even had the courage the ask out or talk to any of my numerous crushes going all the way back to 5th grade. So, as a way to experience femininity without potentially embarrassing myself or having to deal with heartbreak, I decided to just dress up like a girl. And then I looked up forced feminization stories on the internet, which led to my entirely sexual-driven AGP.
I JUST DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE!!!! I WANT TO BREAK THE CHAINS OF THIS DISGUSTING FETISH OFF OF ME!!! I want to be masculine, confident, and strong!!! I'm tired of being a loser. My self-esteem is so low that you can't even measure it at this point. I'm significantly underweight (6'0, 144 LBS), and don't have a SINGLE OUNCE of muscle on my body. I look terrible and extremely unhealthy all around. My dick CANNOT GET HARD in ANY WAY to normal, heterosexual porn or to any normal, heterosexual fantasies (big boobs, fat assessment, etc.) I can ONLY get erect if I'm reading or watching feminization or sissy crap and/or while wearing woman's clothing.
And the thing is, I CAN become very attractive. I have asked many other men about my potential attractiveness level, and they've all said that I have the absolute perfect body build to look shredded and masculine if I put in the work. I have a handsome face with great features that looks much more attractive than a lot of men that I see with attractive GF's. I get women flirting with me in public pretty often.
And yet, here I am. A total loser wasting his life away for his AGP fetish, feminization stories, and sissy content. I don't want to, and CANNOT live this way anymore. I want to be a damn man for once in my life, and finally be attracted to women the NORMAL WAY.
This was a much needed vent for me, so I apologize in advance if the excessive amount of words in caps bothers any of you. I just need advice on how to get rid of these fetishes FOREVER. I want to be a man finally. I want to be normal. I'm 21 years old, and I've never even HUGGED a woman before.
Any advice is extremely appreciated. Thank you.

HIPS/MTO is an elaborate scam that stole millions of dollars investors. This group to clarify how they did it, who they targeted to provide/endorse them with free publicity and educate those who're still in denial although ripped off, to NEVER involve your friends and families into another scam in the future!

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

I want to change up the wardrobe in my 4 year old daughter's room. At the moment they're standard 2x2 door floor-to-ceiling built-ins that the developer provided for all the houses in the estate. The quality is really good but the colour is very tasteful and muted and really not our vibe at all... we love a bit of colour, but I hate waste so I have no intention of just ripping them out and replacing them. Also, we're up to our ghee in mortgage debt so, short of selling a kidney on the black market, we're confined to the cheap and cheerful end of the renovation spectrum.
What I'd like to do is cut the doors about 2/3rds of the height of the door so that I can put the rails at a nice low level to allow her to reach the hangers and choose her own clothes. I want to either: • leave the top half of the wardrobes open with shelving, or • maybe leave a few shelves "open" and have some of the shelves concealed by doors so we can hide away messy stuff.
I'm wondering: 1. how to cut the doors so I don't make an absolute shambles of perfectly good doors 2. how to "edge" the doors so they look properly finished (I'm assuming they're MDF under the painted finish) 3. how to hide the holes for the original handles (ie would painting the doors look dreadful 4. should the paint be sprayed on - do I need to get a professional in to change the colour? 5. what type of paint is used on those doors... it seems very robust to me. Does it have some sort of plastic coating to stop it scratching? It amazes me how they haven't been scratched or damaged yet... we're not exactly gentle with them 😅
Bonus question: Is it a complicated job to get rid of handles altogether and have those stylish wee finger grooves milled into the doors instead of handles, or am I just drunk with fantastical ideas that aren't practically possible? 🤔
Full disclosure: I'm in bed for the day (head cold, feel like s£*?£) so I'm high on pseudoephedrine and have been scrolling Pinterest for the past half hour... I'm fully confident (in this state) that I could do any DIY job, no bother. Also vaguely aware that the drugs will wear off soon and I'll return to my former incompetent mortal state fairly soon.

(I posted this yesterday but got scared and deleted it. Here is it reposted).
I'm only going to give some examples of what my mom would do to me as a child. It is a big step for me to even admit that I was abused because I have had so many people tell me that what happened to me is completely normal and I'm just throwing words around. Others have told me that every mother has high expectations of their daughter and I need to get over it. Then others have also told me that this is a severe form of abuse that no one should ever face. I don't know what I believe but I know for a fact that I am traumatized and cannot move on.
Starting from the least harsh of examples if I were to wake up in the middle of the night even if I just needed to pee she would scream at me from across the apartment to get my ass to bed. I really needed to pee some nights but I knew she would scream if I did so I resorted to not using the bathroom even when I really needed it. This resulted in my child self wetting myself and sitting like that all night to the point where I was getting rashes. My mom would then get so angry at me over the rashes and force me to smell my underwear by shoving it in my face and wouldn't let me leave until I smelled it. I felt like a failure. These punishments would move on to me being consistently smacked in the face when I messed up. One night I woke up in the middle of the night and got up and accidentally made a lot of noise and woke my mom up. She got so angry and was screaming for me to come to her room. I stood in the doorway shaking afraid. She kept repeating "Come here" so I admitted that I was afraid she was going to smack me. She said "I'm not gonna smack you" so I believed her and walked in. Once I got up to her she smacked me in the face over and over again. I couldn't do anything but just sit there feeling like I deserved it. The smacking would continue even for the smallest of things I did wrong.
One time in my latter half of elementary school my father found out that my mother was smacking me (my parents split when I was a toddler). He's not any better by any means, he is actually worse because he is extremely manipulative and has used my sisters against me but that's for another time. He told me I needed to report to my school that this was happening. I didn't want to tell the school but my dad pushed so I did. CPS was called and I was pulled out of class to be spoken to. When I got home my mom was a mess in tears saying how dare I do this to her? How dare I ruin her life? I felt like a horrible excuse for a human being knowing I made a mistake and should have kept my mouth shut. My mom went to court with my dad and she ended up winning due to lack of evidence to what I reported and the agreement decided that my dad "manipulated me into fabricating lies about my mother."
Things only got worse by middle school. I was constantly bullied and my mom told me to just deal with it. This was also when I first started having several medical problems mostly within my stomach. I was in pain all the time so I had to go see doctors. This continued into high school. My mom would constantly complain and complain and complain about my medical bills and how much they were ruining her life. She said it wasn't fair for her to have to pay so much in medical bills for me and that I was destroying her financially. I felt horrible. She also resorted to pointing out all the flaws in my appearance and picking apart how I looked. That is the part some people say every mother says. Some other things she would do is just throw things and rip things up when she was angry. There were also some nights at dinner that if I angered her she would throw and break all of the plates and say it was my fault for pushing her. She would also drink a lot of wine every single night. One time she was mad at me over something and ripped up my science homework. I told her it was homework and she said she didn't care. The next day I told the teacher but he did not believe me for a second. If you're wondering what teachers did about this, nothing. I would tell my school social worker what was happening and she would refuse to report saying "Parents are allowed to hit their children." One day I was simply too scared to go home and was begging the social worker to do something. Since she didn't want me going to the police she decided to call the hospital for me to be there for my safety. For some reason, however, I was put under suicide watch when I was not suicidal. I had been in the past but at this time I was not. The worst part is my mom was told absolutely everything including the idea that I was suicidal which was false. When I was finally free to go home my mom just complained about how I ruined her day and how she had to leave work early because of me. She then got so angry with me when she received the ambulance bill and wouldn't let it drop for a long time.
Now I am about to turn 21 and I'm about to enter my senior year of college. I have had to return home because I need somewhere to go during the vacations. My mom continues to constantly insult my appearance criticizing me, tearing me apart. Yet she tries to have a good relationship with me but I can't move on and I know that sounds selfish. A few months ago my mom and stepdad told me that once my mom gets old and stepdad is no longer around, I will be responsible for returning home and taking care of my mother. I also have a younger half-sister who was often the golden child and my mom would always go on about how perfect she is. She has spent so much money on her and her activities and she has been given more. I don't blame her for it in any way though and I love her with all my heart. I asked why it couldn't be her and they responded that it is my responsibility because I am the oldest. I just kept quiet and said okay but inside I was panicking. How could I deal with this? My stepdad reminded me of it later saying "I want you to take care of her because she took care of you your entire life. You owe her." My family has this huge belief that children inherently owe their parents for feeding them, clothing them, housing them, etc. They believe that it's a form of debt to be repaid. I'm glad it's at least not monetary because they refused to help me pay for college and I'll be $77k in student debt (thankfully I'm on a plan where the majority will be paid off in just 15 years). The point is I don't know how to deal with this. It's true she fed me and gave me a home but everything else she has done sits at the back of my head. Who knows what else she'll start saying to me when she gets older?
I thankfully have a partner who I'm going to be living with once I graduate. He says not to even bother with taking care of her and to just put her in a home. The thing is I know she'll never forgive me if I do such a thing and it will eat at my soul forever. Even after everything she's done, she is still my mother and she still provided for me. A lot of the people I know say it's despicable to not take care of your mother no matter what she does to you. Like I said I often question if I was even actually abused or if I'm just being dramatic and trying to be woe is me. My mom accuses me of that all the time, saying I'm just trying to be sad and having a victim complex. I have been in therapy for years for Depression, Anxiety disorder, PTSD, and some other things. I feel so stuck right now and I'm still fighting my thoughts because no matter how hard I try I can't just move on from what she has said and done to me.

I’ve found a few listings where I liked the design of the clothing item but there weren’t close up photos of the fabric to gauge the quality and the brand wouldn’t be included in the description. I’ll ask the seller what brand the item is and they’ll always say I”don’t know” (im not sure how that’s possible unless you rip off the tag?). I reverse image the item and the first result is always shein😭