Please read, I tried to make this short, sorry if im being annoying:

I am a 20F, 105 lbs. I've made a previous post about this 6 months ago, and I've found myself back into a hole of anxiety.
For about three years, I've had swollen nodes under my jaw. From what I can tell, they haven't changed, and I may have grown 2 or three more within that time span. When I pointed them out to my NP, she made me feel really worried with the look on her face. I got them checked out 6 mo. ago. ENT wanted a CT, insurance declined, so we did and ultrasound. Most of the nodes were viewed in the ultrasound, but not all. Results:
“In the area of concern in the mid neck in the right and left IlA anatomic regions there are prominent lymph nodes with preserved fatty hila measuring 14 x 4 x 15 mm and 22 x 6 × 19 mm on the right side and 19x 5x 15 mm on the left side. Additionally, in the submandibular region there are several prominent lymph nodes with preserved anatomy measuring 7 × 3 x 8 mm and 6 x 4 × 6 mm.”
ENT then ordered FNA, but radiologist took from a NORMAL node. Flow cytometry and microscope slide for cancer cells came back clear. ENT said not to worry and to come back if any changes. I went back a couple of months later bc I was worried, as I'm aware that flow cytometry is not the most accurate method. He kind of treated me like I was crazy.
I used to get some strep infections, but that was in 2019. I want to think they swelled bc of that and just never went back down.
The only reason I keep pursing this is because I am sooooo physically tired. That's the only reason I got the nodes checked out in the first place. The fatigue started progressively a couple of years ago, now I am essentially dysfunctional. I can't even study properly from how tired I am. All blood tests for vitamins/hormones came back clear. But nothing is helping my fatigue. No lifestyle choice or mentality is causing this, trust me I've tried changing, but I feel like the inside of my body is rotting from how tired I am and no doctor is helping.
Also for a little over a two months now, I've been getting this weird chest pain in the middle/right of my chest. I swear, its not anxiety please don't think I'm crazy. Maybe my anxiety is making it worse than it is, but I was in a mental state of officially dropping this lymphoma worry, but this onset of chest pain triggered it again.
It comes and goes, its not intense, its not sharp and doesn't hurt when I breath in and out. When it comes, mostly at random times, i feel like i want to massage the pain but it feels like its under my rib cage. When i move my shoulder back its almost as if i feel it radiate to the inside back of my throat. i went to my PCP and she said I probably just pulled a muscle after exercise (she said the chest muscle that starts and ends from the middle to the right end of my right breastbone?) Yet a month later, i still feel it. Its definitely minor enough to ignore pain-wise, but its definitely there enough to not be ignored.
I know i may sound crazy typing this, but i am just so tired of the anxiety, the not knowing, the unexplained tiredness that NOTHING alleviates. Idk if should seek another ENT opinion, go back to my PCP about this chest pain, I just don't know. I am tired of feeling crazy I am tired of worrying about this and most of all I'm tired of my fatigue. Things further fuel my worry when i see my apple watch randomly give me a heart rate of 120-160 with no anxiety/stress/movement. Ik apple watches can be faulty, but this one is accurate, as I've checked with other watches and people. But i feel silly mentioning it to the doctor.
Please help. Does this sound like lymphoma? Or possibly chronic fatigue syndrome? Would the onset of symptoms to now be more serious if it was cancer, even low grade? I've seen stories of people my age having swollen nodes for 5+ years and then ended up having cancer after docs said they were fine. I just don't know what to do anymore. I am posting here bc i know i sound like i have let anxiety overcome me, and I'm not efficient in voicing my concerns to doctors in real life.

Trigger warning: suicide attempt. Also sorry for mobile formatting. I’m new to this sub I hope this post is okay, my doctor is suspicious I have bp2 but I did not receive an official diagnosis, just wanted to be honest. I 28f have never felt like a stable person for as long as I could remember. As I got older I’d definitely go through phases where I was happy and phases where my depression was worse. I started drinking at 18 to cope. I found it just made me feel “normal” even though it’s a depressant and I had major depressive disorder diagnosis. At 21 I tried quite a few different SSRI’s and they all made me feel significantly more depressed. I was on an SNRI for a while after that that didn’t work but wasn’t hurting me like the others. At around 23 my drinking got out of control and I ended up in AA. Long story short I snapped after a few weeks of sobriety and ended up driving to my friends house, asking if he wanted to run away together and get married which is so not normal for me cause I’ve never even liked the idea of marriage. Then I attempted suicide that night. That was the one of the major times in my life I got suspicious that there was a deeper undiagnosed problem. But I figured I was in therapy and getting regular check ups so I would’ve been diagnosed. I wasn’t being honest about everything either. Ever since then I hated sobriety cause it just always led to me feeling a lot happier, then crashing and having intense suicidal thoughts and feeling worse.I could moderate, but I needed to use at least once a week to feel “normal”. I’m still like that to this day. Is it possible that I’ve been masking hypomania this whole time with alcohol? It is a depressant so maybe it was bringing me back down to my base level of depression and that’s why I never got diagnosed? And that’s why I feel more stable when I use semi regularly? I was just at a routine check up at the doctor’s today and she was asking about my depression, she mentioned this diagnosis as a possibility and said it would explain why SSRI’s have never worked for me in the past as I’d probably need something that covers multiple pathways. She also mentioned it cause of the fact that I have a lot of highs and lows. If anyone knows anything with the alcohol being a possibility, has any input on my possible diagnosis( I know you can’t diagnose, just opinion based) or just can relate let me know. Thanks for reading all of that.

Memory transcription subject: Sergeant Marlim, Extermination Officer of the Krakotl Colony: Valanar.
Date [Standardized Human Time]: September 8th, 2131
I slowly stand up, pain flashing through my skull as I grip at my head. My fuel tank on my back protected me from the falling debris... falling... debris... "Fuck." The first words to leave my beak since I abandoned my post, the Arxur raid, the failing defenses. The raid was upon us and we were losing badly, most of us didn’t even have times to get to the bunkers or shelters, let alone set up our defense plans. A surprise attack that cost my fellow exterminators their lives, and they were left behind where they had fallen. At some point I left the officially established objective, now my only goal was to save my family.
I let go of my head and look around, seeing only debris which had fallen around me from a building that had collapsed. The fuel tank really must have protected me from being crushed, and it was still sealed. A sigh of relief escapes my beak, filtered through to speakers in my respiration mask. I pick up the nozzle, gripping it as I slowly begin to trail my way through the ruins, was I out for long? Things had seemingly gotten quiet, where were the screams? Where was the gunfire? All I could hear was in the distance.
I trudge forth, avoiding any streets; anytime I came near one, I could see the bodies. My respiration mask filters out the smell of blood and death, but not the purple splashes across the street where the bodies were gone now. The grays must have moved past this area, a blessing hopefully, one that would work in my favor as I picked up my speed.
I needed to get home, I needed to protect my son, I needed to rescue my son. I knew the layout of this city pretty well after being an Exterminator in it for two years of my life. However, I rounded a corner into a lone gray ripping apart a body with its claws and teeth, swallowing what it could. I had made the wrong turn. Fear causes my feathers beneath the flame-resistant suit to fluff up as best they could, only making things more uncomfortable in the long run. A problem for future-me to deal with.
I could go around, but the thing's senses would pick me up. How it hadn't yet I don't know, too engaged in feeding? There was so much blood, and so many ripped-apart corpses, how many of my kind had the damn predator eaten? Were there other nearby predators who had their fill?
Despite the panicking thoughts in my head, another part of me responded, pulling up the nozzle and pressing down on the valve trigger as a spray of fuel shot out and down the side street. The gray was 100 feet away, I had time. Even as the gray roars out at the ruined meal of my fallen kind, it stands up and holds a claw in front of its snarling monstrous face to prevent me from spraying it directly in the eyes with the fuel. The predator starts running forth, heading to the weapon left behind at the first body gray's had torn apart.
I wait, letting it get closer as more fuel leaks and coats the side street, soaking the fallen and the predator down to the scales. Then just as the gray scrambles for its weapon, I pull up my pistol, a heavily-modified standard-issued plasma pistol. I had the advantage, all I needed as it aimed down at me. My pistol already aimed fully at my target, I fire.
Bright hot plasma shoots out, hitting the predator. The heated shot ignites the fuel as the monster screams and roars, in pain. He flails, trying to put out the flames, but the spreading flames of the spread-out fuel just ignite the whole side street in flames. I let my plasma pistol lower, watching as the Arxur collapses to his knees in the flames.
My first kill and it felt... Awful. The smoldering flames, the crackles of the flames as the Arxur's cries quieted… they were quiet enough now to be silenced by the roaring flames. Even through the respirator, I could smell the scent of burning flesh and feathers... My stomach turned. I was broken out of my inner guilt by the loud sound of steps heading toward me. Even if they could be fellow Exterminators, I can't take the chances. I head into what was a store, now slowly catching fire. I hear gunfire erupt around me as I dive down behind shelves of products, bullets tearing out around me as I shelter in place.
Growls and barks of sharp orders are given as I head toward the back. How I wasn't hit, I don't know. Maybe the smoke and flames were good concealments, or maybe I can thank whichever god decided to look out for me. The gunfire stops as I reach the backdoor, racing through it and into the storerooms to head out the back. Then I stop, a lesson ringing in my head: "Predator deception."
If I was a predator, I would be letting them come to me. My steps are slow as I look at the back door. It’s already been opened as if it was opened for me. I do not stop, still taking caution as I take off the fuel tank. I grab it by the handle before I head to the door. I holster my pistol and with both my talons gripping the fuel tank, I chuck it outside through the door as best as I could.
Gunfire rings out as I fall back, just one bullet could end me here and now, and I won't be risking it. I head back into the store room, now free of the fuel tank. I start to rip myself and my wings free of the flame-resistance suit. I grab onto a shelf, quickly clambering up the wooden stock shelves of the store room before I hunker down on the topmost shelf. Once again, I coolly pull up my plasma pistol, aim, and fire.
I knew the Arxur would be coming inside for me, but the hunters had become the hunted. The gunfire had stopped and as soon as my plasma shot through the door it nails the dropped fuel tank, rupturing it with the mark of glowing metal. Barely a second later it detonates, and I bring my head down onto the shelf itself as cries and roars of pain combined with the sound of metallic bits impacting wood and wall tell of my success. I holster my pistol as I spread out my wings and give a couple of strong pushes to slow my descent as I feel myself reach a decision.
I am going to press my advantage. I turn and the talons on my leg scratch the ground as I rush out through the partially exploded doorway. I run through, a roar, a growl, the Arxur too wounded to get back up as I rush past them and around a corner.
I keep running until I am sure I’ve evaded them before I extend my wings out and take off with a couple of strong pushes. I keep low, between buildings. It’s dangerous but provides cover, and by flying I will reach my home in no time.
As I reach my street, it’s obvious the Arxur has been through here. Bodies, blood, and homes were broken into. Silence. I make my way to the door of my home, swooping upwards onto the elevated walkway that connects to the platform that my raised home is built upon. The door is wide open, giving me pause. I unholster my pistol as I lean in and listen. I hear the sharp cracking of bones and tearing of flesh: another Arxur. A pit forms in my stomach. I knew my mate is likely dead but my objective-focused mind keeps me from straying too far from the path. I have to save my son if he is still here. I look around the walkway, only finding a fallen Incineration Exterminator a couple of feet away. My tool cabinet is open right next to my front door. I look past the walkway as I leap off of it and extend my wings forth.
I catch onto a window frame and carefully use my talons, gripping anything I can to climb around my raised home far above the ground. I slowly make my way around the corner of the house, looking through the window to find my mate dead. However, the door to the room of my unhatched son is still closed. A feeling of hope and love rises into my chest as I continue onward, heading to the next corner. With a little jump onto the rain channeler, I manage to get around the corner and to my son’s hatchery. Opening the window, I make my way inside the hatchery.
The incubation unit is on, humming, and warm. The egg inside is a healthy blue color, with no cracks and no evidence of tampering. I check over for any traps just in case, I knew the Arxur were brutally cunning. With myself satisfied I took the mobile incubator, which closely resembles a backpack for a good reason, and unplug it as I turn it on, I gently remove my unhatched son, lowering him into the mobile incubator before I seal it and strap the bag to my back. The humidity won’t be ideal but it's a temporary solution. I head to the window, slowly climbing out before I drop, unfurling my wings as I fly upwards.
My thoughts turn to my mate, she and I were not in a loving relationship, hell it was my father’s idea… However, at the end of the day, the Arxur in there had killed her and in all likelihood would have eaten my son. Anger rises and burns in my chest as I slowly turn back. I glide down to the walkway as I couldn't help but think, my son was now deprived of the one thing my mate and I cared about, we might have been arranged, but she was so excited to raise him. Now she won’t get that and a part of me can’t help but feel anger, hatred, a burning hatred. I knew what had to be done.
I close my door, gently, and quietly, I would roll the tool cabinet in front of it before I engage its breaks, I then head to the fallen exterminator, picking up the fuel tanks and the nozzle as I start to spray down the front of my home, before shoving the nozzle as best as I could through a shattered window and empty the fuel tanks into this grave. I hear the Arxur getting up, investigating the smell of fuel and with a couple of flaps back to the walkway, I turn.
I’m aiming my plasma pistol by the time I land and as soon as I do, I send a couple of shots into my home the fuel-soaked building ignites, fire spreading quickly as the fucking monster within tries to force his way out through the front, the front had quickly became enveloped in flames and anyway else out would be just a drop hundreds of feet below.
The drop is what the Arxur takes, burning, on fire, the shattering of the window is all that alerts me to it as he falls, disappearing through the smoke that covers the ground beneath my neighborhood.
​
I feel nothing.
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I feel nothing as I take off, heading somewhere else.
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I feel nothing when I reach a nearby bunker broken open.
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I feel nothing when the raid reaches an end and the rescue fleet shows up.
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I feel nothing when I leave.
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I feel nothing when my father congratulates me, a hollow thanks anyways.
​
I feel nothing as I sit on the ship to Nishtal.
​
I feel something when, within the incubator, I can hear chirps, and the egg starts to gently rock back and forth.
​
I feel love and hope again.

No, I do not look anything like that meitu picture in real life. After surgery, I am going to look like a totally different person and see my own drastic results. I am 31 years old. My looks are ruining my life! Live my life without bullying and judgement. No, I am not going to act like I am the only one that's been bullied, but there are others who have been teased. I get it. My case is severely bad though. I know I am an ugly girl. I know there are pretty girls enough to model, but that doesn't mean that's not an excuse for me not to go under the knife to become an attractive girl for a change. Some kind of guy on meet me told me that "I could be worse" and another guy on an dating site said to me "finally you admit you're ugly to me" before surgery. Believe me, I am self-aware to know it... I am ugly, but surgery's going to fix my ugly face for good. I am not an idiot. I am so low on the looks scale. I was hanging out with a girl who knows she looks good. I saw this guy that was cute and she said "yeah right!" Made me feel like shit and knowing she's a good looking enough girl to get a guy like that. :/ Yeah, I felt like complete garbage. I am not going to pretend I am attractive yet when I am not. In public "offline" and online, I am treated so badly. It's gotten to the point where I can't take it anymore. If I am out somewhere, I get laughed at. I get treated so much differently than my beautiful counterparts. After surgery, I will notice a big difference in how others treat me. I am over watching the beautiful people live lives I crave. Looks are a big factor in how people treat you. This girl on reddit had like 20 procedures. She became pretty. It took her time. She received the pretty privilege. People treated her much differently. Why should it be any different with me? She increased her pickiness in terms of looks when dating men, then why can't I be picky too? I was way picky way before I read her post. Improve my mood. How I look is making me more irritable, frustrated, I don't want to keep crying hysterically, breaking my stuff, and how I look is tied to my mental state. Been past my breaking point. Land Dates and perhaps partners. One of the reasons I am having work done is to be in relationships and date like other people get to do. I want to be one of the girls guys would kill to have. I want a guy to go "oh she's so pretty make her my girlfriend type!" I want to date, but the reality is that I need to save up for my surgery first before another relationship (before growing with somebody else) especially the kind of guy that I want and he wants me too. (vice versa) I feel like my looks are just not there (up to par yet) and my face is holding me back from dating men and aren't interested in me yet. After surgery, men will be lining up to date me for sure.. in the future. Go from ugly to pretty...drastically alter my outer exterior. I decided to up my game ton. People have had surgery to get partners. Nothing's wrong with it. People tell me "how looks aren't everything" I know looks aren't, but I can't I get them out of my mind, especially if I am planning to go out there becoming attractive on purpose with effort in on my part. I am not going to be one of those girls who think women are entitled to attractive people and for them to love and accept them for who they are. Smh. 🤦‍♀️ I am not going to be like those people. When I definitely get plastic surgery and increase my attractiveness this means I can pick a partner who is more attractive as well. Looks are going to define a part of me after surgery. My looks are what I am looking to craft. <3 I can be a genuinely a nice person, but I admit I do have my conceited ways. I am not conceited all of the time. I try to think of others and help out whenever I can. I can't change my personality. It just cannot be done, sorry. Looks are on my mind a good bit, but I don't neglect personality in me let alone in a guy. The guy I'm with next will be one lucky person to have me in the future. An attractive dude with a good personality.. maybe a guy into fitness like I am 💪, not mandatory, but would be awesome. I don't see why not after surgery. He does not have to be a genius, but he's intelligent. He treats me well. He's successful and is goal-oriented like me. Once I am committed to you, I am very loyal. You can have your friends. I am not insecure like that. I will comfort you when you need me because that's what a good girlfriend does.
Tired of Feeling Way Below Others:I am Always Singled Out and Feeling like an Outcast: I just feel like I don't exist and feel like a ghost and it's upsetting me so much!People will want to come up, start conversations with me, and want to get to know me:
Ways to Up my Game, Goals, and Expenses to Alter my Looks Drastically on the OutsideThings I NEED to Save Up 💲 for! 🌏❤️
New tattoo ink: my future german shepherd sleeve.Dye my hair blue. 💙Work on my body. Good looking abs.My future working line german shepherd puppy.High energy dog like me. Not imported. Find a breeder in the US.Change my wardrobe. Find my clothing/style.Surgery. How many procedures
I will be saving up for plastic surgery. Go from ugly to pretty and land me some temporary jobs, getting the pretty privilege, benefits in terms of opportunities, mental health, and all of that good stuff, but not when I get my working line german shepherd. How many procedures? Drastic full face makeover. If I have to do that to become a pretty girl, I will. What procedures I am going to NEED on my face not my body? Total cost for everything? There's going to be hope for me! Every bit of my "hard earned cash" is going to be worth it!
How long will it take me to save up?^ All very expensive, but I work I hard enough, I can pay everything off. No problems.
I don't want people to be disgusted by me. I want people to be happy that I am in their presence and Be in the Center of Attention:
I don't live out on my own yet that way I am going to be able to save up money for surgery. I don't have to pay major bills or rent, so this is the only way this is going to work out for me. I don't have anything wrong with my face, but I am sure that I have bad features. My goal is to go from ugly to pretty without my glasses on. I know surgery is risky, but I have a good feeling everything's going to work out and my journey is going to be a positive one. I don't have any confidence because of people. I deserve to see myself look stunning after all the insecurities that I have. I have a ton of insecurities which are not permanent because I will be doing something about changing my face. I don't think I am being shallow, but if you think I am being shallow, then so be it, I don't care. You don't know the struggles I face every day. I was born ugly. I want the benefits in society. I am not going to do without and I never get to experience any of the shit I never got to had to begin with. Sorry. I want and need to go out there, get what I want, and deserve in life. I deserve a second shot. I really do! I really want to get the pretty privilege so bad. Surgery is going to give me the Boost of Confidence: 😀 After surgery, my confidence will start to skyrocket. I don't believe in changing how you think. All the sadness will go away after work done. I have very poor low self-esteem.
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I can't tell you how excited I am about the prospect of being more beautiful. I am so stoked!! I can't wait! I have yet to speak to the doctor yet. I am going to. As far as the price tag 💲 goes for surgery, I may or may not have to do a lot. I am not sure yet. I am not a doctor. 🤷‍♀️ Just the thought of having surgery is making me grin from ear to ear. Find a surgeon with excellent credentials. Agrees to do it and knows that I will look way better after surgery. I am going to look so much different after surgery. I am not tall enough to model, but I want "an attractive" face. I believe people who were born ugly should be given credit because they've worked themselves up to where they need to be. Not everybody was so lucky in the looks department. Attractive is attractive whether it's through surgery, makeup, healthy lifestyle, or genetics. I don't know why people get so hung up on how people get there. 🤷‍♀️ If people don't like me going under the knife, well I don't give a damn. I'm not hurting anyone in the process. If I didn't think surgery wouldn't help me, I would even consider it. I wish I was a pretty girl! I obviously want it so bad! Dammit. I just hate being very ugly. My looks mean so much to me! 🌎 I am not going to let my looks slide. My time and energy will be spent altering my looks on the outside, but not when I get my working line german shepherd. Have a Good social Life and Have Friends: People will find me attractive because it's going to make me feel good! I need people complimenting me on my looks. Receive Compliments: I don't want to die knowing people didn't find me attractive. I do not want this heartbreak. 💔 It's really disrespectful when people tell me "you don't need a makeover" or "you don't need filler." when it's my body my choice. These girls have had their spray tans, filler, makeup, surgery, etc. I am supposed to get nothing done and somehow be happy about it.. Pftt... 🙄 Yeah, no! That's not fair to me! I deserve to live the rest of my life happy! I have every right to be a happy girl in life! I deserve it! I really do! This is my life and I am choosing how I live it!
I want a guy that is into me for my new "pretty" looks. I want a guy to be drooling over me and a guy would kill to have me because of my appearance and personality. I want to feel wanted and to be dating material just like other girls are in relationships and get to do what other people get to do. I am not going to be left out and dead last. Sorry, but I want that "pretty privilege" and I obviously want it so god damn fucking bad! What I didn't get to experience since the beginning, I am getting now as an adult and for the rest of my life. I am going to love and cherish my new face! Looks matter to me! Land you dates and get you through the door. My future surgeon is going to get the job done. I can get the privilege with the right work done. I can and I will. There's no doubt about that! Nobody is going to take this away from me! Perform a miracle for me please! I am going to feel happy for my new looks. Just thinking about my new looks is making grin from ear to ear and I know surgery is the path to take for me. One hundred percent. I want those looks dammit. Not just personality. Even though, it's not the greatest. I can be conceited, blunt, and a b**ch! I am nice, but all of the time. I am not letting my looks slide, nor will I ignore them. Date model men after surgery. I am getting an extreme blown makeover like these other girls get because it's only fair to me. I promised myself this face and I am not breaking it.
Surgeries I want to become an Attractive Person for Once (Changes my features and has to be a good surgeon and what ones are going to fit my face right.)
Surgeries I Can do Without, But Considered

• Lip reduction.

I've been living an austere life for the last decade , saving desperately for a property deposit. I'm on the brink of a promotion that will enable me to achieve the dream I've been suffering for a decade ( the last few years I've had a significant deposit but too low income to get a mortgage and I've stayed away from the hot mess of shared ownership as the cladding scandal roars on).
Examples of extreme personal austerity include that I haven't travelled outside of Great Britain since 2009 and I didn't use any heating at all this Winter or last.
I've never felt financially safe or secure whilst renting, either short or long-term (e.g. landlord could sell up or price tenants out at their leisure and retirement is a fantasy if you're renting privately in your 70s!). Owning my own property would enable me to feel a bit more financially secure, although I would need to build back up my emergency funds in due course.
Looking forward to a more balanced financial strategy I'd like to get advice from this great community:
How do you adapt to feeling somewhat financially secure? How do you turn off the instincts to conserve your financial resources at almost any cost?
PS: As a bargain hunter, I have lots of reduced to clear luxury items (e.g. fancy bath soaps that were going for under £1) that I will use as part kf my 3-month rolling celebration when I'm finally a homeowner!

Hey Everybody!
I often see posts and comments on this subreddit about how Tarrasque cannot be permanently killed using RAW, and I've made a few comments here and there talking about how it can be done, but since it keeps coming up I figured I would make a post.
It can be done!
There is one rock-solid way (I used to think you could do it with doomed, but assuming the wording in the CRB takes precedence over the wording for regeneration in the Bestiary, that way does not in fact work, so there's only one way to do it!).
This way is not terribly complicated (though it certainly isn't easy), and the only specific requirement is a single uncommon spell that was printed in the CRB and probably overlooked a lot because it's a classic "NPC spell".
To start, Tarrasque can't be killed at all by just damage: it has regeneration that cannot be disabled, which completely prevents it from dying because of the dying condition.
Tarrasque is immune to a lot of things, but it is not immune to death effects, nor is it immune to being instantly killed by a death effect. Despite this, it has protection even against this, with this special clause in the "Slaying Spawn" section of the stat block:

If the spawn fails a save against an effect that would kill it instantly, it rises from death 3 rounds later with 1 Hit Point.

It is significant however, that you can kill it, however temporarily.
The death trait says:

An effect with the death trait kills you immediately if it reduces you to 0 HP. Some death effects can bring you closer to death or slay you outright without reducing you to 0 HP.

So we don't need any specific death spell that instantly kills Tarrasque, any spell with the death trait that does damage will temporarily kill it if we get Tarrasque low on HP to begin with and then finish it with a death effect, so you'll need a caster to pack in as much Vampiric Touch and the like as you can, since Fortitude is Tarrasque's best save, you're going to be fishing for some natural 1s most likely.
Assuming you do all that, and you kill Tarrasque, yay! Now you've got 3 rounds until he comes back to life.
Now you cast Bind Soul on Tarrasque before the 3 rounds are up.

While the soul is in the gem, the target can't be returned to life through any means, even powerful magic such as wish.

Bind Soul has an unlimited duration, so you could just leave Tarrasque's soul in the gem if you like, but given the wording of the return to life trigger, it does not continue to keep coming back to life. Once the 3 rounds have passed and the trigger fails because Tarrasque "can't be returned to life through any means," you are free to destroy the gem. Since Tarrasque is already dead and it's not failing a save from a death effect, this does not re-trigger its ability to return to life.
This frees Tarrasque's soul to go on to the afterlife and be truly permanently dead.
Bonus Loophole:
This is a little more nitpicky but still technically works with a strict RAW reading. The trigger to restore Tarrasque to life only fires when it "fails a save against an effect that would kill it instantly." That means if something kills it instantly without it failing the save, or without it attempting a save at all, it doesn't trigger its ability to come back to life.
That means if you bring it to 0 HP with Vampiric Touch because it took half damage by succeeding on the basic Fortitude save: congratulations Tarrasque is permanently dead.
It also means that if you can deal damage as a death effect that does not have a save, that will also technically kill Tarrasque, see the new item from Treasure Vault that is perfect for this: Reaper's Spellgun.

Mid-20s. I broke up with my partner yesterday after 4 years. I absolutely adored him, I thought the he was really the love of my life and that we were going to get married. I think he felt the same way about me. Our relationship was basically perfect in every way except one. It wasn't working out because I have a very low sex drive and can't meet his needs, and he was having explicit chats with other women online. I realised that we just weren't compatible and it wasn't fair to keep him in this sexless relationship.
I think he's pretty sad about it, and so am I. I feel like we're throwing away such a beautiful relationship but it just wasn't meant to be. I keep wondering whether I'm doing the right thing, but I know deep down that I am.

Hello people! Introductions are super awkward so let's wave at each other and pretend you just read a super duper intro and you're soooo amazed you gotta keep reading till the end... (abracadambra focus pocus readus wholus postus)
And I know there's no worse possible way to make it even more awkward with adding all that cringey magic spell thingy (that's definitely not real, you're reading this on your own will!) buuuuut you're basically getting a taste of what it's like interracting with me. In one word, stupid. In two words, stupidly fun. (I hope... but confidence is key)
I'm from a small European country and I live in an even smaller village and I avoid the big city life as much as possible. I work mostly from home but my hobbies are outdoorsy and my days are always full with a variety of things but there's definitely time for a much needed interaction with my friends and my beloved people (they are mostly online or too far to meet up so basically my social life is inside a laptop/phone/discord/etc.). I spam my very close people all the time at random times with all my random thoughts or pics of things I saw and whatsoever. I'm quite extroverted unless you put me in a room with 100 people then I'll probably hide under a table for sure (after I steal a big plate of food so I have snacks in my solitude). I'm very sharing with my feelings, I like creating genuine bonds and fun connections that last for maaaany years. I'm generally a positive person and not much can stress me or worry me, I like to leave tomorrow's problems for my self of tomorrow so me of today can enjoy the current day! (if that makes sense to you just send me a message already).
I do not struggle with mental health issues although I spent years of fighting my own demons (it was a tough war but I can proudly say I made it!!!!!) and that really helped me into appreciating every single day and finding joy in the smallest of things. This war however may have been the cause of me remaining single for a while. It was my own choice to not bring anyone else into my life when I wasn't happy with who I was and how I was treating myself and heck how could I treat anyone better if I was so harsh to myself! But I'm confident and soooo ready to find a partner in crime and thrive together. I like fun and engaging people, who can laugh at themselves and their mistakes, they don't let a day go to waste without making memories or smile at least 10 times (but relaxing isolating days are accepted too every now and then)..
I know I come off as a big idiot and it's not for everybody and that's really okay. If I sound too serious that's also okay but be warned I'm indeed a big idiot. I have an awful and worrying taste of self-depreciating and dark humour and I like to talk for hours if something catches my interest and triggers my curiosity. I'm not looking for short boring convos with no equal effort from both sides atleast when we're getting to know each other. I do not have an ideal type because at this point anyone who matches my energy and wants to be stupid together is already a great candidate! Just be a good person, mind your own business and we probably can get along well together. And if the sparks happen, then bam! Any age is fine as long there's no big age difference (5-6 years give or take maybe?) , ideally from Europe too just to make meeting/travelling together easier and for time difference because I liiiiike my sleep.
I do have a mature geeky boringy side that I only like to bring in the surface when it's needed so don't worry about wanting to talk about serious and important topics with me. I can do that. I do not smoke, drink nor do drugs. I love babies but I have none of my own (human atleast, because furry babies I have alot) and would love to a mini me in the future. I'm shorter than average (hey let's not post numbers because they kinda stiiiiing hahahaha), a bit on the chubby side although very active (hey I just like alot of snacks! don't judge me -_-), long light brown hair, green/bluey eyes and I'm told I look younger and quite cute (atleast 3 grandmas told me this month!)
This was probably the most uninformative post I read but really if you read the whole thing and you can match the vibe and continue it with your own message then you're absolutely welcome! I have no big expectations so the disappointment rates are soooo low I might as well just end this here and post it! So thanks for reading!!!
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*Idiot edit, I FORGOT THE TITLE! Well... can't fix it now haha.

Something's missing. People (and entities) are starting to notice.
First Previous
***
Far across the multiverse in a tavern that, depending on one’s point of view, may or may not have actually existed, Zeb, Petunia, Bethany, Bergamot, Cleve, and Zilandrial sat at a large wooden table.
“Thank you, Shauna,” Bergamot said as a buxom woman in a low-cut peasant dress filled their mugs with a “magic” pitcher of beer that never ran dry. “You don’t have to serve us, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Shauna replied brightly, “but I am a barmaid. Besides, I am not giving up my magic pitcher!” she added with a laugh. “The next batch of stew should be out in a second.”
“If it is as good as this bread…” Cleve said, holding up a thick, floppy piece of flatbread.
“Better!” Shauna exclaimed. “The pantry keeps filling back up with the best stuff! It’s almost a shame to make stew out of it, but the “fancy” chef went to the “fancy” place. We just figured out the roaster thingy, so we’ll be serving roast fowl as soon as the first batch cooks!”
Shauna paused and took a big drink from her pitcher.
“It turns out that you just had to talk to it. Weird… But no weirder than anything else, I suppose. You guys want to wait for the roast fowl?”
“We shouldn’t tary,” Zeb replied, “We don’t know how long this blessed peace will last.”
“Maybe it’s over?” Bethany the Tinker, now reunited with her beloved hat, asked.
“One can hope,” Zeb shrugged as he drank deeply from his tankard, “but I’m not delaying my repast, and neither should you. When you have fiends like Pantsu and F10w3rchy1d in play, things can get much worse than they already are.”
“Worse?!?” Bergamot exclaimed in horror.
***
Melinda the Stalwart was starting to believe that she should have stayed in bed today.
It was supposed to be her day off! Yeah, things were starting to get “weird,” but with all of those high-rated champions running around up north, it was probably going to get handled pretty quickly… and she was tired of chasing around after their scraps.
Her copper-rated ass was sitting this one out. The fact that everyone had gone gank-crazy just further confirmed that she had the right idea.
So, she decided to head back to the royal city of Raven’s Peak to take advantage of the richer and more powerful adventurers running off to the north, leaving all the armorers, enchanters, alchemists, and publicans in town behind.
It was nice not constantly getting shoved out of the way by stronger champions and ignored by shopkeepers far more interested in their gold than her silver for once.
It started out as such a lovely day, too!
She awoke in a lovely bed at the Blade and Wand, her absolute favorite inn, and a place where it was nearly impossible to get a room without a reservation or a lot more status than she had. There, she enjoyed a wonderful breakfast, at a discounted rate no less, and then went out for a day of crowd-free shopping!
It. Was. Bliss! There were no lines, and all of the storekeepers and craftsmen were all too happy to not only serve her and her meager purse but actually take time to chat!
Then, for lunch, she decided to visit the main branch of the adventurer’s guild, where she had an honest-to-gosh hamburger and fries along with some cider. After that, the plan was to get some training or maybe buy a buff or two…
Well, that was the plan, anyway.
What actually happened was that her wonderful burger, which she could never get under normal circumstances (they were always sold out before a copper-rated nobody could get their coppers taken), was interrupted by the most unholy screams she had ever heard inside or outside a dungeon.
She barely had time to stand before the doors to the guild offices exploded outward, and a demon covered in spikes and flames charged into the main hall.
That looks just like the guildmaster, was about all she had time to think before the fiend was on her.
***
“What’s happening?!?” Melinda cried in terror as she hurtled through absolutely nothing.
(Shh bby is ok)
“H-hello?” she called.
(😊)
“W-who are you? What happened to me?”
(Shh bby is ok)
“Am I… Am I dead?!?”
(is ok)
“Oh, it is definitely NOT okay! Who are you, and what the hell happened?”
The bedbug sighed with exasperation as it bounced off an invisible barrier again.
It had taken too long. The soul was starting to wake up.
Before much longer, it would start to get wiggly. It hated it when they began to wiggle.
Not knowing exactly what else to do, it let out a little ping.
It was answered by thousands of its kind! They couldn’t get through either, so they were having a rave! Awesome!
With a happy little (woo!), it zipped off towards the largest concentration of pings dragging an increasingly indignant Melinda the Stalwart along whether she wanted to or not.
***
“Hahaha!” Tawdry laughed into a prepaid “burner phone” her parents didn’t know about. “I can’t be-lieve you got me fucking grounded, you skank!”
“You’re still grounded?” Claudia snickered, “You diminished that badly?”
“It’s my parents. I managed to talk them down to a week without brain fucking them too hard. Besides, this cell is a lot nicer than the holes you used to stick me in. I’ll just do my time and be done with it. Besides, it will give our friends time to leave town since someone can’t manage to find a freaking truck.”
“First of all, fuck you,” Claudia laughed, “Second of all, thanks for getting that bastard to show up in a park and chase you across all of that nice soft turf. We got a lot of data we didn’t have before.”
“Like what?”
“Like its estimated mass, tire treads, a few lovely material samples where it nailed a park bench while trying to kill you… oh, and confirmation that it actually materializes and dematerializes. We can only assume the little bitch does the same thing. Too bad you couldn’t actually lay hands on her.”
“She was slippery, okay?” Tawdry chuckled.
“Hey,” Claudia said, “before Evika and her party ganked you, did they say anything about whom they were working for, or did they mention a little blonde girl named Petunia… or Pantsu?”
“No, they just said hi and blew my head off. Oh! Stephen did say that David finally confessed to Evika!”
“Took him long enough,” Claudia laughed, “Think he has a chance?”
“I know he has one,” Tawdry replied, “Evika’s gonna drop those drawers any second.”
“Good for her.”
“You said that Robert the Golden Peckerhead got sent back?”
“Yeah, and he is not adjusting well,” Claudia replied, “We have him in a ‘special’ inpatient facility where we are keeping the people with ‘issues’.”
“You got a lot of ‘patients’?”
“Not as many as you would think,” Claudia said, “Not everyone is happy about things, but there is something to be said about not having to sleep with a dagger under your pillow.”
“True that,” Tawdry replied. “High school is a pain, but being able to go out for pizza without an enraged wife (or husband) trying to shank you is nice.”
“Careful,” Claudia laughed, “Enraged spouses here might have a gun. You might want to go easy on the adultery this time around. There is also no magic contraception, and cure disease potions aren’t for sale in every town.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Tawdry groaned. “Doesn’t really matter, though. I might as well be a nun these days.”
“You can’t be diminished that much!”
“I am not into kids, and any man worth screwing isn’t into jailbait. I’m the exact opposite of screwed… Speaking of, you did mention a possible trip to Denmark?”
“Aren’t you grounded?”
“I won’t be next week!”
“And how will you explain your sex tourism to your folks?”
“Let me worry about my folks,” Tawdry replied, “You worry about that plane ticket!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Claudia replied with a chuckle.
Natasha! Come down for dinner!
“I’ll be right there!” Tawdry yelled.
“I gotta go. It’s taco night…”
Tawdry grinned.
“Speaking of tacos, did you get that camel toe fixed yet?”
“And just when we were even, too!” Claudia laughed. “Your little suggestion has everyone looking at my snatch… including me, and I know it’s bullshit!”
“Ha! Is your new fuck toy looking?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Detective Martin! I know you have a thing for that whole world-weary crusader vibe. And don’t think I didn’t see you checking out his ass, either.”
“I have the same problem you do,” Claudia sighed, “worse even. The sort of man I like certainly won’t be messing around with a ‘kid’, even if I am ‘legal’.”
“Yeah, you do like them a bit crusty, don’t you? How about finding some rich asshole who is having a mid-life crisis?”
“I will repeat myself. The sort of man I would like isn’t interested… and won’t be for years.”
“Meh. You’re not giving yourself enough credit… and giving them far too much of it.”
“Well, Slaker turned me down cold… goddamn chain of command…”
“No! You tried to give it up to Slaker?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time…”
“No way! I need details, all of them!”
“Well…”
Natasha! Dinner!
“I have to go,” Tawdry said, “but this is not over!”
***
Vroom? an old Peterbilt truck revved as it sat in a remote corner of a truck stop in the middle of nowhere.
“Still nothing,” the little girl huffed. “How can an entire universe disappear?”
Vroom… Vroom?
“Let’s hope not,” the girl replied, “Even so, he wouldn’t abandon us!”
“What?” the spirit asked with alarm.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” the little girl replied.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Okay,” the little girl replied, “There is a remote chance that our boss has had to… um… cease operations and relocate. It hasn’t happened in a really long time, but it has happened.”
“Does that mean that I’m stuck?!?”
“No, of course not. It just means we might have to wait until we’re collected.”
Vroom.
“He won’t forget us!”
VroOoom…
“Hey! Don’t even start talking like that! We’ve done good work for the boss on several worlds. He won’t just discard us!”
“What do you mean, discard?”
“Just watch your anime, weeb,” the little girl snapped. “He hasn’t abandoned us, and he won’t forget us. He’s just… um…”
Vroom.
“I don’t know, alright!” the little girl replied angrily, “I have no idea where those others came from. All I know is that we didn’t squish them.”
VvvrOom.
“If he had another team, I would know about it!”
Vroom?
“I just would, okay! WE AREN’T GETTING REPLACED!... I’m… I’m going to get some air, maybe a Coke or something.”
The little girl threw open the door to the cab angrily and hopped out.
“Hey!” the spirit yelled, “See if they have any audiobooks!”
***
We’ve been abandoned… the little girl thought to herself as she prowled the truck stop trying not to panic.
She had to keep it together for Truck-Kun… and their new companion. If she fell apart, Truck-Kun would, too, and who knows what the spirit would do. He was two seconds from making another run for it as it was.
She paused by a rack of dusty old audiobooks on CD. Now that wasn’t something she had seen in a bit.
Thankful for the distraction, she started perusing the titles. Some of them were things she hadn’t already read (or listened to).
She grabbed a few for herself and then started looking for something appropriately nerdy for her new guest.
She might have murdered them in cold blood, but that was no reason not to be a good host.
She was so distracted by her own troubles and the audiobooks that she didn’t notice that she was being followed until the guy’s shadow fell around her.
She then became aware of his oily aura and smiled.
All work and no play…
“Hello, little girl…”
She looked up at him with an innocent expression and doe-like eyes.
“Hi.”
***
Truck-Kun quietly ground his gears as he watched a beat-up RV pull onto the highway.
Vroom, he grumbled as he put himself in gear and started to follow.
“What?” the spirit asked.
About half an hour later, Truck-Kun pulled over next to an RV that was parked on the side of the highway.
The door opened, and the little girl hopped out, holding a paper bag.
Vroom, the truck revved disapprovingly.
“Such a nice man,” the little girl said impishly as she plopped into the driver’s seat, and the truck drove away.
“Are those bloodstains?” the spirit asked as he pointed at the bag.
“What answer would you prefer?” the girl asked as she pulled out a half-filled fifth of vodka and most of a pack of smokes graciously donated by the nice man in the RV (it wasn’t like he was going to be needing them).
Vroom.
“I know I quit,” the girl replied as she put one in her mouth. “Give me a break. My nerves are shot.”
Vroom.
“Yes, shot enough to smoke menthols!”
The little girl lit up and drew heavily on the cigarette, exhaling a lovely smoke ring.
Vroom!
“So, crack a window!”
Vroom! Vroom! Vrooooom!
“You can’t smell, and you know it! So please, cut me some slack. I’ve had a bad day,” she said as she turned up the bottle of vodka like it was Juicy Juice.
Vroom!
“I know you’ve had a bad day, too,” the girl said as she wiped her mouth, “Want me to get you some fuel treatment at the next stop, maybe some starting fluid?”
Vroom.
“Okay, and a new air freshener, maybe some of those fuzzy dice you like? Deal?”
Vroom!… Vroom?
“As a matter of fact,” the little girl said as she pulled out a wad of bills. “the nice man did keep his cash on him.”
Vroom! the truck revved happily.
***
“Jesus!” Gary Martin, formerly Detective Martin, winced as he looked inside an abandoned old RV the following day.
“Say what you want about her,” Claudia Smythe said as she ate a corn dog. “but she is thorough.”
“We think the girl did this?”
“Matches her MO,” Claudia shrugged as she flicked the corn dog stick aside. “And we have surveillance footage at the truck stop. The asshole was talking to someone small, the cameras didn’t get a good shot of the kid, and eyewitnesses state that he was in the company of his ‘daughter’ when he left.”
“You said this was her MO. She’s done this before?” Gary asked.
“She rolls guys like this for their pocket change. We’re not sure if it’s how they finance their operations or if she just does it for fun, but this is the third one this year.”
A well-dressed and very young man in sunglasses approached the pair.
“Sir Lark,” Claudia said without turning around. “We have an ID on this guy yet?”
“Boris Veetch,” the young man said. “a registered sex offender with an active warrant for skipping out on his parole.”
“Yeah, she likes those,” Claudia shrugged. “Nobody will mourn his passing. He was easily ensnared, and he probably was carrying cash.”
“And she is professional bait,” Gary shrugged. “He was slime, but I’m not sure even he deserved what happened to him, though. What sort of monster would do something like this?”
“You just answered your own question,” Claudia replied, “a monster.”
“If you think this is bad," Lark said as he started photographing the scene, "You should see what a pack of goblins will do if they get the chance."
“Considering what we now know,” Claudia said with a shrug, “this trail is beyond cold. Even if they couldn’t do the whole disappearing act, they could be in any of several states by now. We’ve lost them… again.”
She looked over at Gary.
“Just as well,” she added, “We need to get you processed and briefed… agent.”
She smiled.
“Welcome to the Temporal Protection Agency.”
***
Deep within the deepest dungeon on Asteria Prime, a monstrous giant of a spider fidgeted uncomfortably.
“H-hello… boss,” it said nervously, “T-to w-what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
Frostie smiled an icy smile that filled the giant spider with horror.
“Oh, I was just in the area and thought I would give my friends here,” she said, indicating The Great Erectus, The Herald, and Cuddles, “a tour.”
“O-of c-course!” Log’Sharingoth LXXXIII stammered as their legs twitched miserably. “W-would you like a guide?”
“That would be lovely,” Frostie smiled. “Where’s Pantsu? I think she and The Big Guy over here would get along famously.”
“S-she isn’t available, boss.”
“Not even for me?”
“I-I apologize,” Log’Sharingoth said nervously, “but she isn’t here right now?”
“Well, where did she go?”
“I-I’m not sure, boss…”
“Okay, how about Nova?”
“S-she’s not here, either.”
“Shai-Vai-Loshara?”
“Um…”
“Steve?”
Log’Sharingoth made a whining bubbling noise as they shrank away.
“Why don’t you just tell me who is missing and exactly what the fuck is going on?” Frostie said with an angry gleam in her eye.
***
“…and I don’t know where anyone is!” Log’Sharingoth wailed miserably. “And everything is going wrong, the players almost rioted, and the physics engine threatened to quit! I didn’t know what to doooo!!!”
“And at no point did it occur to you to call me?” Frostie asked with a frightening edge to her voice.
“Pantsu told me not to!!!”
Frostie let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course, the current Log’Sharingoth wouldn’t go against Pantsu. It was horribly unfair to expect otherwise.
“I’m not going to come down on you because of what she did,” Frostie said a bit more gently. “However, since I now clearly know something is amiss, anything you can tell me will be of great value.”
“I-I’m not in trouble?”
“Not from me,” Frostie replied, “and Pantsu won’t be giving you any problems after I’m done with her.”
Frostie paused.
“So, this glitched Pantsu, where is it now?”
“Pantsu had me send it to Tartarus! I’m sorry! But she said to!”
“Sounds like the only sensible thing she’s done thus far,” Frostie replied.
“I didn’t want to, but she told me to do it!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Frostie shrugged, “sounds like the perfect place for it. Wait. She told you?”
“Yes, Boss!”
“That means you have a line of communications?”
Log’Sharingoth’s multiple eyes all widened with fear.
“Y-yes?”
“Call her and tell her to give me her location… now.”
“Y-yes boss…”
Log’Sharingoth fell silent for a few moments.
“Um… Boss?”
“Let me guess,” Frostie said, “You can’t reach her, can you?”
“No, Boss.”
“Fine,” Frostie grumbled. “We do this the hard way. You’ve done a great job, considering everything.”
“I have?” Log’Sharingoth asked hopefully.
“You have,” Frostie said reassuringly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll send a crisis response team to help out in the meantime.”
“A… A crisis response team?” Log’Sharingoth asked fearfully.
“You didn’t think you were getting off Scot free, did you?” Frostie laughed as she and her companions disappeared.
“…Ssssshit,” Log’Sharingoth hissed as she stalked off into the shadows.
***
The hominid looked around at their new surroundings.
Everything was white. The floor was white. The walls were white. The furniture was white…
Even the plants were white…
And everything was spotless.
“Interesting décor,” he said after a few seconds.
“They like to keep things tidy,” Frostie replied as she took a seat on one of the white couches.
“They?” the ape-man asked dubiously as Cuddles slipped one of her tentacles into The Herald’s hand.
He gently gripped it, causing Cuddles to suppress a delighted squeal.
“Playtime is over,” Frostie said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m calling in my real operatives.”
“Jesus!” The Great Erectus exclaimed as a spotless white door opened, and a short, slender blue male amphibian-like biped in a white tunic bearing a three-headed dog embroidered with platinum thread walked in.
“You never told me you had… them!”
“Oh, you are familiar with their kind?”
“Those little monsters are responsible for the death of entire universes! Every time there is a parallel manifestation of those… monsters… entire galaxies die.”
“They can be a handful,” Frostie said pleasantly, “But I’ve found them incredibly valuable over the years… for that very same reason. These do come from much more reasonable stock from a much more reasonable ancestor... Maybe 'reasonable' is pushing it a little,” Frostie added with a laugh. "Reasonable for one of them, at least."
The blue amphibian smiled pleasantly and blinked his huge amber eyes, their pleasant hue replaced with a whirling madness of color.
“Hello, Hades,” Frostie said with a smile. “It has been quite a while. How have you been?”
“Bored,” Hades replied. “I trust you have come to alleviate that?”
“Most definitely,” Frostie replied. “Awaken the others…”
“…It’s time to hunt.”

I have a bachelor's degree in software engineering and I've been working for around 6 months now.
I don't think I am a genius at what I do, but I do try my best and it's very easy for me to talk with people even if they aren't programmers/engineers (it's not that common in this field, especially in my country).
I don't have a lot of experience I could re-sell myself with abroad apart from what I've studied in uni (mostly C, Java, SQL) and I've just recently gotten a basic knowledge of Python. A couple days ago I also started another project at work that will revolve around PHP with Symfony, all backend stuff.
I want to move out as soon as I can in any of the countries I cited above, but I have 2 main concerns:
1) I've always lived in the city centre and I have never needed a car to move around, if I have to go somewhere that is less than 40 mins away I'll go by foot and I like to feel safe at night (for example I come back from the gym twice a week and walk for around 30 mins at 11pm). I would like to move in a place where having a car isn't a necessity for most things and that has places to 'do stuff' (sports and eating out mostly)
2) I am currently in a relationship with a guy who lives in the UK and is from the UK (which is one of the main reason I want to move there, but I'm very concerned after Brexit) who does a 'low-skilled' job. He has always worked as a cook in a pub and he enjoys it. Would he be able to move out? Is it super hard to get a Visa? Would getting married solve the Visa issue if we were to move to Europe together?
​
My english level is quite high (C1/C2 level) and money isn't a big issue as my family can support me in case I need financial help.
Another concern is that whenever me and my bf talk about the UK he often says that it isn't as safe as Italy and it kind of bothers me because I don't want to feel like I'm about to 'get stabbed every time I walk after 6pm' (his words, not mine)
​
Which is the best option for my situation? Is moving to the UK a bad option after Brexit?
My main goal is to have a good work-life balance (I want a good paying job, but I don't want my life to be work) in a nice place to live

Aww she loves to name drop me how cute! Does that mean she’s in love with me? I mean she talks about ZK all the time and how she’s in love with him so the same must be true for me cause she keeps talking about me! Aww how sweet! I don’t think she likes the fact that I know so much about her to the point where she can’t lie her way out of it. She wants to claim she is a Christian and is seeking a godly man but any Christian man can look her up online and see that she is far from a Christian. She swears to much, dances half naked on camera and posts it for the world to see, and she is clearly not a member of any church. I get that you don’t have to be involved with a church to be a Christian but it certainly helps. I have a friend that is Christian down to the core. They go to church every Wednesday and twice on Sunday’s. Her husband is also the youth pastor. They don’t listen to anything but Christian music, they don’t watch movies that have nudity, drugs, violence, witchcraft or anything. They also make sure the kids never see any of that. Hell there was a show they loved watching on the Disney channel and one day they characters pulled a cauldron out and it was an instant you can no longer watch this show. She also dresses very modest as well as her daughters. No super low cut shirts and shorts and skirts must be knee length. The only person who sees her half naked or full nudity is her husband and only her husband. And if you are a Christian like you say you are then you wouldn’t curse, flip the camera off, dance inappropriately(twerking etc.), and you definitely wouldn’t be dancing around half naked and posting it for the world to see. A Christian man will look the other way and run. I’m sure she will have something to say about this after she reads it cause she has nothing better to do lol

We had been checking weather reports tirelessly for two weeks, until we finally found our spot. The following week should be nothing but sun and smooth winds, so we tentatively decided that to be our slot. Our small crew consisted of me and my friends Josie and Frank. Josie’s dad owned the boat (and he still needed to sign off on our plan), so we had to reserve it ahead of time, and make sure that we got it back in pristine condition, on the dot, and preferably with a nice coating of wax or whatever they use to make boats shine like candied apples.
Monday arrived and the weather was still solid, and Josie’s dad had reluctantly signed off on our plan, so we decided not to wait any longer and take it out the next day. The idea was to have a two day mini-cruise; just us hanging out on the boat and maybe docking it for the night at a nearby town. Although Josie’s dad was a hardass, he had taught her how to drive and maintain the boat since she was a kid, so really, the worst thing that could happen is that we wouldn’t have enough snacks.
Me and Frank met at the parking lot, and saw Josie standing on the boat at the end of the dock. Her dad was with her, lecturing her about some winch or other, Josie rolling her eyes next to him, barely maintaining her attention.
“He really can’t leave her alone even for a couple days, can he?” Frank asked, keeping his voice low as we stepped on the long dock.
“Josie or the boat?”
Frank chuckled, then quickly returned his resting poker face as we reached the boat, Josie’s dad turning around as he heard the planks creaking under our feet.
Before he could say anything, Josie ran up from behind him and said “Hi boys! You brought the food and snacks and the five gallons of vodka, I assume?”
“Aye aye, Captain!” we replied in unison. It was Josie’s dad’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said to Josie, starting to walk down the small ramp down to the dock. “And remember, two days, no more. I expect you to bring her back in one piece.”
“Sure thing, dad!” That was Josie’s way of saying yes, yes, yes, I get it already.
Josie’s dad gave us a stern look followed by a slight nod as he walked past us. He never really liked me or Frankie, a bunch of hooligans, as he’d once called us when we were kids. For the record, me and Frankie didn’t like the guy either, so at least the feeling was mutual.
After her dad was out of earshot, Josie yelled “Are you ready kids?!” putting on her damndest pirate voice.
“Aye Aye Cap-TAIN!” we screamed and sprinted up the ramp and into the boat.
After an exchange of hugs we unloaded our groceries into the mini-fridge below deck, then met up with Josie, who was already sitting inside the helm. “Ready to leave, crew?” she asked. “Let’s rock this boat,” Frank replied. The amount of bad jokes this early in the morning was surely a great indication for what the rest of the day held.
It wasn’t long until the shore behind us was gone, the tranquil open sea spreading out in all directions. Josie seemed to know where we were going, but at that point I could no longer discern what direction we had even come from.
Me and Frank sunbathed and joked around on the deck until Josie emerged from her cocoon-like cockpit. “Sorry to interrupt your hi-LARIOUS hijinks, but I’d propose we have some lunch soon.”
Like destiny, the word lunch produced a unified grumble from both me and Frank’s stomachs - the universal horn of yes please, food please, now please.
“We can stay here for a while, then we could start heading towards the town,” Josie said.
Feeling bad that she was doing all the heavy lifting, I asked her “You need any help? It’s your boat, and us your honored guests, so don’t be afraid to command us, cap’n!”
“Please,” Josie replied, “when I get a chance to drive this boat, I take it. Dad’s been hogging it like crazy all summer. Besides, it’s not like you guys even know what half of the things on this boat are called, let alone what they’re used for.”
“Well, that’s the driver’s seat,” Frank said, pointing at the helm.
“That’s called a helm, my dear. Frank - you just earned yourself the honorary job of heating up our lunch.”
“This ain’t no Ford Prius, I see,” he replied as he got up and started to take lazy strides towards below deck.
“Toyota,” I said.
“What?”
“Prius is Toyota. Not Ford. Come one, let’s go make lunch for the captain.” I got up to follow Frank, nodding approvingly to Josie.
We had cheap microwave meals for lunch, seeing as the boat didn’t have a stovetop or an oven. For some reason - maybe it was the soothing sounds of the ocean lazily slapping the boat, or the warm afternoon sun - the food defied its low expectations and tasted great.
Afterwards we had a little siesta where I almost fell asleep until Josie said “Shall I take course towards the town, then?”
Through a straw hat laid across his face, Frank mumbled “Aye aye.”
“You sure you don’t need any help?” I asked Josie one again, but she was already jumping into the helm, excited to get back at it. “You guys just take a chill, I’ll get us where we need to.”
As the motor’s soothing hum returned, I got myself a bag of chips and sat on the deck, watching the horizon. Frank still had the hat on his face, which either meant that he didn’t want to be bothered, or that he’d fallen asleep. Either way, I was happy to just sit under the sun as the boat slowly rolled towards our destination, cutting a line into the flaccid water behind us.
“Shit, Shit SHIT!” Josie screamed. I must’ve fallen asleep, and as I got up the half eaten bag of chips crushed under my foot.
“What, Josie? What’s wrong?”
“What’s going on?” Frank parroted as he stood up, the hat falling beside him.
“There’s a fucking storm coming,” Josie said as she frantically pressed buttons, her eyes darting across the dashboard of the helm.
I turned around and looked at the horizon. Dread filled me as I saw an infinitely wide wall of dark clouds spread across the sky, making contact with the water in a misty gray curtain. I noticed that the ocean was no longer level, for it was rippled with small waves that thumped the sides of the boat in eager anticipation.
“I thought it was supposed to be nothing but clear skies,” Frank said. He’d walked beside me, taking in the horror beyond the horizon.
“Ex-fucking-actly, Sherlock. It came out of fucking nowhere,” Josie snapped, holding the wheel tightly in her right hand as she fiddled something with her left.
“Okay, Josie, I know this might sound stupid, but bear with. Why are we going towards the storm?” I asked, trying to not seem disingenuous as I turned around to face her.
She gave a sigh, stopping what she was doing and looked me in the eyes. “That’s where the town is. It’s the closest place to dock right now, and the storm’s moving faster than any I’ve ever seen. If we go back it’ll catch up to us and we’re fucked. If we go through it, we’ll spend the least amount of time inside it, giving us at least a chance.”
“A chance at what?” Frankie asked.
“A chance at getting out of here.”
“Any port in a storm, I guess,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, to which Frank gave me a concerned look.
The air had turned cool, so I went and changed to warmer clothing, Frank doing the same. Coming back up to the deck, I saw that the storm had moved closer. A lot closer. Josie instructed us to put on life jackets and to stay below deck, not to come out unless she asked us to. We put on the puffy orange jackets and promptly hunkered down below deck. The increasing waves were already rocking the boat uneasily.
“Are we gonna die?” Frank asked, his voice whimpering as he looked up at me from the opposite bench.
Although the question had already burrowed itself into my mind as well, I replied “No, NO, man, we’re not gonna die. Like Josie said, it’s just a quick ride through and then we’re back on dry land,” hoping that my words held even a sliver of truth.
In a matter of minutes, the sky turned dark and the boat started jumping on waves, like a rollercoaster rapidly going up and down and up and down. The rain tore into the boat like a machine gun as thunder sounded from across the way, lightning flashing the sky white erratically. Frank’s lunch quickly escaped his stomach, coming out in an arc of brownish green vomit that splattered across my legs and the floor. I was too scared to care, and he was too frightened to apologize.
The storm kept getting worse, the waves becoming larger as evidenced by the deeper dives and longer ascensions. Water was constantly slamming the deck, some of it trickling down to our feet. Through the two small windows the cabin had, it was near impossible to know whether we were on top of the water or under it, or which way was up or down. Although the storm was loud, I could still hear Josie cursing and screaming as she battled the waves and tried to keep us afloat, which was the only indication that she hadn’t been swallowed into the depths below. Frank was sweating bullets, his face a pale white. I wasn’t doing much better either, the words it’s gonna be ok it’s gonna be ok repeating in my mind.
Slowly the storm started to ease up, the waves thinning out and the rain becoming only a slight patter. Neither Frank or me said anything, though, not wanting to jinx it before we were safely back on land. Soon, the boat’s rocking lessened severely, and I could see sunshine coming through the windows.
“Hey guys, you okay? You can come up now,” Josie yelled, her inflection hesitant but calm.
Frankie apologized for the vomit as we got up and made our way up the steps. Josie was standing at the front of the deck, tumbling through her soaking wet hair with her fingers.
“Ho-lee shit, did we just survive the fucking apocalypse?” Frank asked rhetorically, his eyes darting between me and Josie.
“Josie! You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine,” she replied, waving her hand like nothing abnormal had happened at all.
I walked up next to her and said “We got through it, didn’t we? Now just let’s get ourselves back on land, eh?”
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look,” she said, holding her hand out at the pale horizon, like she was presenting it on an invisible platter. “Where’s the town?”
“What do you mean where’s the town? We got through the storm, so shouldn’t we be able to get through to it now?”
“That’s the thing. It should be right in front of us.”
“Where’s the storm?” Frankie yelled from the back of the boat.
“What do you mean ‘where’s the storm?’ We just went through it” Josie yelled in annoyance, still peering at the horizon.
“For fuck’s sake, come here,” Frank replied.
Josie looked at me and rolled her eyes, then started walking towards Frank as she gave a long sigh. I followed tepidly behind her.
As we reached the back of the boat, I realized what Frank had meant. There was no storm, nor clouds, or even residual waves. “What the fuck,” I exclaimed under my breath, right as Josie started sprinting around the boat, looking in all directions, her head swiveling in frantic motions, her hair throwing beads of water around like a dog drying up after a swim. A minute later she joined us, panting, and said “It’s all just water. There’s nothing on any side. We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean, the storm’s gone, there’s nothing.”
“Shit, shit, shit…” Frank muttered as he started to tap his foot on the deck, holding himself in a tight hug as he shivered in his wet clothes.
I turned to Josie. “Well we shouldn’t be far off from something, right? It’s still day, and even with the storm we couldn’t have gone too far.”
I could see that Josie was tired. She looked like she had aged about ten years in the last twenty minutes. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Let me just check some things and figure out where to go.”
Josie left for the helm, leaving me and Frank to stare in silent horror at the lazy, blue ocean that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions.
After a long minute Josie called to us “Guys… you better come check this out.”
She was staring intensely at the dashboard of the helm as we arrived.
“Okay, so good and bad news. Which first?”
“Good, please.” Frank replied, recovered from the worst of the shivers.
“Okay, so the good news is, uhh,” she began, still fiddling with controls as if to double check her suspicions “the boat seems to be in running condition. There’s no damage to anything that would prevent us from going forward.”
“So what’s the problem then?” I asked.
“Check your phones.”
“What?” me and Frank said in unison.
“Check if you have a signal, internet, anything.”
“Shit,” Frank said. “Yeah, mine too,” I replied as I looked at my phone and saw that there was absolutely no signal or internet.
“Yeah, I don’t have a signal either - just had to check. And it doesn’t stop there,” Josie said, “compasses, readings, all of that - it’s shot. I can’t navigate us anywhere, and I have no idea where we are.”
Frank started to freak out and walked towards the front of the boat, his wet shoes squishing as he stomped angrily. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK. What the fuck do we do?”
“Well, as I said, we can still move. The only question is where. I have a faint idea of where the sun was when we first headed out, and I suggest we try to mimic its movement back to the dock,” Josie said to me while keeping her eye on Frank.
Frank was now squatting on the deck, his hands gripping his neck as he stared down at his feet.
“That sounds smart. Then if we see the storm again, we can recalibrate. We should probably be hitting land at some point, right?” I said to Josie.
“That’s my logic, at least.”
“You with us Frank?” I asked, turning to him.
“Yeah, yeah. I guess that sounds smart,” he replied in a solemn voice under his breath.
“Need any help?” I asked Josie.
“Take care of Frank,” she said quietly. “The best thing we can do is stay calm.”
Josie revved up the engine and turned the boat around carefully as she mapped out our approximate direction, and then we left towards a horizon that was no different from the others, guided only by the sun’s approximate movements.
As Josie manned the wheel, me and Frank cleaned up below deck and dried our clothes. As we were finishing up, he said he’d stay below deck, as he needed some time to think.
Looking at the sun, the day was slowly turning to evening. It was summer, so we still had daylight for a few more hours. I went up to Josie to see how she was doing.
“Frank’s below. Said he needed some time to think. I don’t blame him - this is indeed a bit fucked up, isn’t it?”
“Logically, we should hit land at some point,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the horizon, her presence distant.
“How are you doing, Josie? You just pulled us through hell. I know you don’t need help with the boat, but I’m just saying -- I’m here if you wanna talk.”
Josie sighed and turned to me. “Thanks. I think right now what I need is to get us safely back home. Once we’re back you can buy me a beer and then we can talk.”
I nodded, and then turned my head to look at the horizon. Noticing something in the distance, I said “Josie, uhh, what’s that?”
She turned her head back to survey the ocean.
In the distance there were small, dark peaks rising from the ocean, like the tips of underwater mountains rising above the water. They’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
“I -- I don’t know. But I think we’re gonna see soon enough.”
I stayed with Josie as we approached the peaks. As we got closer, it was obvious that there was no land between them. Instead, they shot up from the water in thick spirals that tapered off the higher they reached. As we got closer we could finally realize their true size. Although some were smaller than others, most were the equivalent of tall office buildings, some reaching even higher. They spiraled and twisted in the air, arcing like blades of grass in the wind, and it seemed like they could fall down at any moment, but they did not move or shake in the slightest. There must have been twenty or so, and they all looked similar despite their differences in size; dark, mostly smooth yet also scratched, like charred meat on a grill.
“You have any idea what these are? They look like… trees or something, except they don’t have leaves or branches,” I said to Josie.
“Never seen anything like it. Must be some rock formations or something. Maybe there’s an underwater volcano that bursted lava out and it solidified -- I really don’t know. But those should only happen deeper in the ocean, far away from land.”
I heard Frank coming up the stairs. He looked better than he had before, his step lighter. Although I’d been afraid he’d been brooding, I guess having some time to think really did help.
As he saw the spiraling towers, his face turned into a twisted and confused half-frown as he said “What the fuck are those?”
“We don’t know,” I replied, “but it’s the only thing we’ve seen so far.”
Soon the closest spiral towered just a mere two hundred yards away, its wide shade casting upon the boat. From a distance it had been hard to decipher the dark structures, but upon closer inspection, it was clear that their anatomy was… abnormal. Stretches of surface material were mostly smooth, but all of the spirals seemed to have slight craters that were formed above the rest of the exterior. It looked like they had been bombarded by meteors of differing sizes, although even if this had been the case, how had they not been immediately broken, I do not know. They were beyond any logic I could muster.
“So, anyone know what we’re looking at?” Josie askied, surprising both me and Frank - she was usually the one to know things, us just tagging along for the ride.
“No clue, captain,” replied Frank as he stared upwards in dismay at the towering spiral.
“Still no,” I said.
Suddenly the boat’s end shot up, followed by the front, ascending us a good ten yards in mere seconds. Frank and I were knocked down on the deck, but Josie managed to hold onto the walls surrounding the helm. The boat kept rocking as waves hit us from behind. I slowly stood up with my knees bent for support, and went to help out Frank who was still laying on the deck, his eyes wide in panic.
Once I’d gotten Frank up, Josie had already managed to make her way to the back of the boat. We held onto the railings along the boat’s edge and walked as fast as we could through the oceanic turbulence to catch up with her. Once I saw what had produced those waves, I wanted to get back to land more than I ever had before.
In the distance tens more of the spirals had emerged from the ocean, some even larger than the ones we’d seen. They dripped with water, and some were covered in green algae. Somehow they’d been quiet, merely disturbing the water as they’d shot up.
“We need to move! One of those things could shoot up under the boat and sink the whole fucking thing!” Josie screamed, running back inside the helm as the waves slowly calmed down and became smaller. I leaned on the railing to see if there was something underneath us - not that there was much I could do, even if I saw a gigantic spiral shooting up from the depths.
The water beneath the surface was unmoving, holding an abyssal darkness. It seemed as if the light penetrated less than it had before, and what was deep below was nothing but pitch black shadowlands.
Just as I was about to disembark and head towards Josie, something moved in the water. I craned my neck farther over the railing to get a better look. It looked like two large masses were separating from each other, unearthing a ravine.
Josie had gotten the boat moving, and we were starting to turn towards an opening between two of the spirals. As the boat circled, I got a better view of what lay below. The ravine widened, and inside it I could see a dark, whitish yellow mass peeking through. As Josie cranked us up to speed the yellow mass had opened up into a large, oval shape that seemed to span across the ocean floor. Its center held a deep, dark circle that sucked in light as if it were a black hole, twisting all things inside of it.
Then it closed up again. I sighed in relief, hoping that no more spirals would emerge.
Suddenly it opened up again in a furious motion, wider than before, into a perfect circle. Then it hit me - it was an eye, larger than anything I could think of. Although we were moving at full speed, it was so gargantuan that we weren’t making any headway.
It had blinked.
“Josie? Frank?” I screamed as I turned around and saw Frank on the opposite railing looking down at the water, witnessing the same thing I was seeing.
Frank turned to me, his face a washed white, and his mouth slightly agape. “They’re tentacles. They’re fucking tentacles, look!” he pointed at one of the bigger spirals. “They have fucking suction cups and all! Shit, SHIT!”
As if on cue, the tentacles started to return to the water, splashing as they did so, producing strong currents in the water. The boat was immediately caught up in the chaos, going up and around huge waves and being dragged by the water’s shifting volume. Frank sprang below deck, and I followed him. From the small round windows I could see one of the gargantuan tentacles dropping back into the water, the boat just barely missing its tip and almost sunk by the shifting ocean.
Josie ran inside with us and exclaimed “The storm is back! It’s fucking back! I can’t maneuver the boat worth shit!”
As she closed the door behind her, we were flung to the side, my ribs hitting one of the cabinets, producing a painful crack. I could hear the rain start to scratch at the boat, and soon we were engulfed in darkness, the rain gunning down on us through the waves. The boat rocked and swayed worse than it had before, and at some points I was sure we’d gone under, buried into the deep sea, never to see the sun again. We held on to whatever we could as water trickled through the sealed door and started pooling up on the floor.
Slowly, but steadily, the storm started to pass, the boat regaining its level status along the water. The darkness outside faded into a dark red. Once it was possible to stand with relative ease, we emerged from the cabin and walked up to the deck.
“Everyone okay?” Josie asked.
“I think I’m gonna --,” Frank replied, and promptly ran to grab the edge of the railing and vomited yellow bile into the water, his stomach empty of food from before.
“My ribs got a beating, but I don’t think anything’s broken, “ I said. “What about you?”
“I’m fine. Just some bruises. Look,” Josie said, walking to the other side of the boat.
On the horizon, we saw the evening sun illuminating a crimson glow behind a small town some 500 yards away.
“Frank?” Josie called out.
“Yeah?” he replied through thick phlegm that sounded like it was stuck to his throat and running down his nostrils.
“We made it.”
We docked at the unfamiliar town and found a small hotel - probably the only one there - just a quick walking distance away. Once we got our phones dried off, Josie’s seemed to be the only one that still worked. As she looked up our location she nearly dropped the phone on the ground.
“I -- I don’t know how, but we’re quite far from home,” she said, her voice produced in quick breaths.
“How far?” Frank asked.
“Some 480 miles away.”
We checked and double checked her phone, but she was right: somehow we’d ended up nearly 500 miles down the coast into a small fishing town.
We were so tired that we decided to get some sleep before giving the bad news to Josie’s dad. The next morning Josie called him up and explained the situation, giving him the simple version: a storm had hit us, and after we got out we’d arrived here. I could hear the screams he gave her through the phone - apparently he was sure we’d driven the boat all the way to this ghost town in the middle of nowhere and docked it here, just to spite him. Josie didn’t respond to him much, only apologizing and telling him to come pick us up.
A day later he arrived, furious with us - and especially Josie. Once we showed him the boat I thought he was going to burst into a thousand tiny pieces, for I’d never seen a man so angry before. Although I think he overreacted, it was true that the boat was in shambles. There was water damage throughout the interiors, most of the equipment was shot, and large scratches were present along the exterior’s white paint.
Josie begged him not to drive the boat back home, but he insisted, not hearing a word her daughter was saying. We drove his car and arrived home that night.
As promised, me and Josie went out for a beer a few weeks later after her dad had settled down enough to let her out of the house. We went through the events of the trip in great detail, confirming to each other that it really did happen - although we disagreed on one thing.
Josie still thought that the spirals were just magma turned rock, and the whole thing was just extremely bad luck. According to her, we got held up by a superstorm or hurricane that moved our boat on top of an active underwater volcano, and then got hit by that same storm later as it moved across the ocean at miraculous speeds. Her theory was that the storm moved us along with it, making it possible to traverse such tremendous lengths with ease.
But Josie didn’t see what had been underneath us. Her theory was that the ‘eye’ I saw was simply lava cooling down as it emerged from the ocean bed. But she hadn’t seen it blink.
Frank of course seen it as well, but I haven’t heard from him much after the incident. According to his mom, he’s been cooped up in his room, drawing yellow circles on black pages. He’d told her that he needed some time to think.

I'm looking for friendships! I'm kind of a low maintenance friend, but at the same time I like just sharing the same space with people.
I LOVE learning random things, currently teaching myself piano and re-learning Japanese from my college days. On the art front, I love making original characters and writing. I was an avid roleplayer when I was younger (lots of action and romance, lol) and I still do that kind of stuff, but sparingly. I still would love to publish my stuff some day.
I love antique shopping, coffee friend-dates, eating pizza and drinking hard cider. I love art museums since my major right now is studio art and art history. I value honesty, so please be upfront with me if I say something that offends you, I can't read your mind. Right now I am okay with online friendships. I live in the PST zone.
A big dream of mine is to be a character designer, or just be like a writer or something. I used to play DnD a while back but stopped, I'm not really a big people person (plus the vibes were off, but I'd love to play with the right people). Something that i'm really into right now is playing FFXIV (just a lvl 31 gladiator and my alt is a lvl 21 thaum). Haven't played FPS stuff in a while, but I played the Killzone series a lot when I was younger. For FFXIV, I play on Aether and have my main on Siren as a tank, and a dps on Jenova. Honestly I might just make a new tank toon somewhere else. If anyone wants to play with a sprout that's never completed ARR, it'd be nice :)
Anyways I've talked to much haha. This is ME
If you want to spam me with cat pics, or funny memes, or want funny tiktoks sent your way, just beep me, lol. Honestly I'm just looking for friends with the same kind of mindset and a level of maturity. I'm a little out there with my brain, so I'm sorry in advance. Also please note I don't use the CHAT function.
As a last thing, I am an agendenon-binary person (AFAB). I dress a lot more, masc? I just wear what I like. Pronouns are they/them sometimes dude/bro/boi. I get coded still as a woman, which is fine too. I'm just asking for respect, that's all. I am poly and partnered too.
If you could eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?
disclaimer: I'm the kind of person that likes doing activities with others. Sometimes I don't want to talk, I just wanna hangout and do something like play a game together or just watch something, doodle. That's how I bond with others.

One of the reasons I recently started taking Tongkat Ali was because of low libido, but now I am horny 24/7. It’s getting very distracting and perhaps messing with my day to day life. I’ve experienced a lot of benefits from taking this supplement, but is this enough to stop taking it? Is this just what guys with normal testosterone have to deal with everyday? I guess no one can really answer this for me, just curious if anyone has a similar experience.

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https://www.buzzsprout.com/371360/8844528
Transcript: https://www.johannadraconis.com/episode-81-100

Intro [0:00]

Hello my dears! My name is Johanna, and I welcome you to the Johanna Draconis - The Deconstruction Of C-PTSD podcast.
In this episode we do things a little bit different. With this being the 100th episode, I thought it would be a good time to redo the introduction, as quite a bit has changed since then.
We will go chronically from my earliest years to the most recent perspective. I will summarize a lot to keep the size manageable and try to avoid being graphic or anything the like. This should help not to overwhelm people.
I have more information in episode 1 and there will be more on the website or in doubt just ask me. That being said - lets get started.
​

Early years [0:47]

We start… with me being a baby. Even that early the abuse started, not that I have any memories of that, but there are family videos with strong indication of what is happening off screen, but not off sound. The body remembers and it causes a unique trauma.
I suffered through every version of trauma at least once, except being penetrated - before I even entered primary school around age 6. This also includes the torture. I also lived in constant fear of dying through the whole time. Non stop. 24/7.
I had a main abuser, no not my parents, but also a wide array of lesser abusers in my family. I was able to identify some now on the narcissism spectrum - which is rather hard given the subject matter.
So one can say I have an extensive knowledge about trauma - to put it mildly. Despite being the perfect little girl they told me to be, so the bad things wouldn’t happen. And did I try to be that good girl. But it was set out to fail from the start.
​

It gets worse [2:12]

And it only gotten worse from there - as in starting around age 6. Besides the daily beating - the other behaviors became more and more escalating. All while the daily beating just got worse and will end up causing nerve damage in my arms.
Which was a trade in for my brain, that I desperately tried to protect and succeeded to do so. But as bad as the beating were, they were on a schedule. The surprise attacks during the day were worse and more dangerous.
While in the evening it was just to let out all the anger - during the day he exploded and had no limits how far things could go. This was when he went the farthest and was the most unhinged. Where he liked to experiment. Where my suffering was the focus.
Around age 12 it started getting more towards psychological torment. Despite that, one of the consequences was that my body started to deteriorate slowly, but steadily. Something I still feel the consequences of to this day… and likely will stronger in the future.
At age 16+ it came to a showdown which ended with the whole ordeal ending… the physical side mostly at least. But my mental state nonetheless kept getting worse - slowly, but inevitably.
​

Breakout and the time after [3:48]

Until it completely broke out during my psychology study. It is truly never a good sign to see your symptoms on the screen during class… I remember just thinking “Fuck me”. I also knew I had to move fast and get help ASAP.
Despite my attempts to get help as soon as possible - no one accepted me. I was an old case. Hopeless. The chances of treatment were low and no spots available or none at least for an old case.
I ended shortly in a spot with an unfinished psychology student, but had to give that up, when my state worsened and I had to move back with my mother. There I got no help. Which meant I was doomed to die.
It gotten worse and worse. I was in a state of intense pain, it felt like my body was torn apart, but slowly and without me dying. I slept… when I could… in short patches. Hours of sleep became more and more a rarity.
Even if I slept I had horrific nightmares and kept waking up. I couldn’t eat. When I was able to eat I just stuffed my face to not starve. I couldn’t focus - I could barely do anything at all. This was PTSD in end stage for me. Agony - without any chance of distraction.
​

The End of the line [5:24]

Which lead inevitably to the end of the line for me. My body told me, that I was a few months at best away from dying. Whatever I was doing needed to change. That was the point, where I decided I couldn’t make things worse - as if I am an optimist.
But there was literally no other choice besides lying down to die and that was never my way. So - not an option. I had no hope of healing, I just tried to apply my knowledge to reduce my suffering and make my remaining time less painful.
I was actually shocked how easy and successful I was - despite it taking weeks to do so. I had no help, the support of my surrounding could be boiled down to “Are you healed yet?”, despite knowing C-PTSD was incurable. At least to our knowledge back then.
Suffering less and getting more time sounded like a pretty good deal to me, so I tried again. And kept going and going and going… until after years I had bitten enough down and had conquered my first C-PTSD. I was healed, but not cured.
Which meant now I had the choice, do I return back to normal life or continue what I started? And… after that absolute agonizing experience I decided I want to NEVER EVER deal with this nightmare again.
So I went underground to deal with it once and for all. In the end with great success. Better than anything I had dared to dream for.
​

Survivors guilt and this podcast [7:17]

Now that I was fully cured I tried to get to the club meeting of C-PTSD cured people, and as I had taken so long with all those wrong paths I had chosen and with no help - I lost track of many of my fellow sufferer on the way. I thought I was dead last.
The club house was empty. And it dawned on me what happened to those I lost track along the way. I knew the state of others. That was the moment I developed survivor’s guilt and got my PTSD symptoms back. Which slowly started to escalate again.
I will stick to my comparison of a burning building. You get out, completely blinded still by the smoke that made seeing inside almost impossible. Only to discover you are the only one who made it out of the building - while you can still hear the screams.
Or sometimes only the body that is left from their attempt. What do you do in such a situation? Going back in isn’t going to do any good. So you try to shout instructions. Which is how the idea of this podcast was born.
The plan was to give the instructions on how I left the building and help so others to leave the building.
​

Changing the theme and therapy [8:48]

While preparing and doing the podcast I began to cure myself from more and more C-PTSD s and PTSD s, that I had to change my position on either you have it or you don’t - and started making a list. I also kept learning about PTSD and everything around it.
During the podcast I realized, that I hadn’t gotten any help not only because I was an autist and it was harder, but also because how horribly bad the situation was for everyone. How lacking resources and information and available treatment was.
Which made me change my podcast to cover more and me starting to offer therapy. But then - once again - tragedy hit at the second half of last year and I was confronted with a horrendous situation that would last for months and cause a cluster trauma.
This lead me to cancel and stall my plans. But the worst was that at the end of the last year - I had to deal with 3 cluster traumas at the same time. That was a lot - even for me. While my success wasn’t in question - that did block and slow down me quite a bit.
Which lead to a noticeable chaos and change in podcast - which I am sorry for, but it was outside of my control. The aftermath of it sadly still causes for stumbling in my everyday now and then. Nothing serious, but enough to cause trouble occasionally.

The silver lining [10:46]

I want to end this episode on a silver lining after all this rather dark content. I gained intense and deep knowledge of trauma and how it is structured and works. This knowledge I believe can be used to help so many people who have little hope right now.
My trouble with putting that knowledge into words that people understand is sadly the biggest slowdown and something I can’t just change, because the reason is my autism. Which also makes it possible for me to visualize PTSD.
And this helped me to be able to say, that I can cure a base C-PTSD within a few months. It of course depends on how strong the patient is going and if life doesn’t sabotage. Which it realistically does most of the time. That is just how it is.
This is what makes me hopeful - that my experiences will help eradicate or at least constrain this illness as much as possible. And rid humanity of this bane as much as possible.
​

Outro [11:56]

That was it for todays episode, I hope you found it insightful. Hope you are safe and well. And as always, if you have any questions or feedback and the like, please let me know at [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]).
More information and transcript you can find as usually under johannadraconis.com/Podcast, information regarding therapy you can find under johannadraconis.com/therapy/ and links are in the description.
I hope to see you next time. Watch yourselves and have a wonderful time.

Hello zen, welcome to my ongoing experimental book report on David Hinton’s China Root.¹
The “experimental” part of this book report is mostly for my personal self-observation: I have been doing it over such a long span of time that, at this point, I am significantly reduced, in a cognitice sense, compared to where I was when I began issuing “reports” on David Hinton’s curious tome several years ago now. (I have early onset dementia—and the fact of the matter is that I’m already a decade beyond the “early” part, for all practical purposes.)
I only introduce this subject to explain any verbal deficiences in this post. I am nicotine-less, and still trying to figure out how to get my brain to output words in a consistent or coherent manner. I’m totally incapable of filming videos right now, as I forget what I am talking about within 5 minutes. But when I woke up today I saw a post from u/sje397 in my feed, and it reminded me of how kind and cordial he was to me when I first posted here, and I thought: “Well that really did work out pretty well, didn’t it?” And so I wanted to pop up with a post that showed him that my efforts to bring my study of Ch’an to this forum have not deviated one iota since that very first video—in which I brandished an apple rather wildly, talked about sutt, and made a pretty decent broom joke, if I remember correctly.
In any case, I have the perfect content slotted up: the next two chapter’s in my revolutionary book report on David Hinton’s locally controversial book: China Root. (Revolutionary because, while I have never been a fan of the book report standard, nor highschool nor university scholarship whatsoever, I did find it important to try and fit in with zen locals, by offering them one example of their favorite form of content: one book report in classical “book report” style. [Linseed: Full disclosure: most of the time when I wrote book reports in elementary school, I did so in the form of short fictions that discussed the text—so reporting on a book as if I am some desk bound nerd that puts weight into “scholarship” and “facts” does not come naturally…so just keep in mind that, even though this is a book report, it is still offered up by a literati who is neither drunk on themself, nor on anynone else, nor on any particular pack of lies that is bundled together and sold as “authority” to the masses. Thanks.])
No…even my book reports are quite clearly the product of a literati, and not some desk-fascist who has something to “prove with words”—so I do hope you enjoy!
First, here is a run down of book reports so far, for any who are curious, want to get up to date on the book, or who are interested in what the process of reporting on a book thoroughly looks like (for the many of you who have never actually seen that before):
Introduction: a work on "Original Zen."
Reader's Note and First Chapter
Meditation, Breath, Mind, and Words
Absence
Empty-Mind and Mirror
Bonus post:
The Utility of China Root for Literate People
Oh, and before we actually proceed: you are caught up to me in my own progress in the book so far. It’s kind of an exciting moment for me, honestly, because while I have profited immensely from Mr. Hinton’s poetry translations over the years (and I highly recommend both his Li Po and his updated Tu Fu)—to be completely straightforward I have never found his philosophical interests engaging or pertinent, think his take on a “Tao” based framework of “Ch’an” wonky to the point where I ask “so this is only for PhD’s with $400 sweaters and / or rural aristocracy that have things like actual looms in their homes?”, and am entirely unconvinced that an “academic” poetry translator with a giant list of millionaire foundations in his resume is going to be able to successfully introduce Ch’an at all.
And after the above introductory segments, we start to get into the real world today. Let’s see what the “artist-intellectual” aristocrat has to share with us tired and lowly masses on the subject of Ch’an, shall we?

山水 Rivers-and-Mountains

This chapter is probably of the least interest to the zen user. (But is particularly useful for New Ager lampoonery.) It’s worth plucking out two quotes in order to show who Hinton is and how he sees himself / his approach to Ch’an, as well as how he recognizes not only himself but also, clearly, many of his readers in Tang and Song China’s class of artist intellectuals. This certainly makes him somewhat of an outlier in the world of Zen study (and it also restricts him to a certain demogrpahic of readers, and obviously flips the bird to many others, such as non-artists and non-intellectuals, scholars, members of religious instituitions, etc snd so on). It is worth pointing at this location of his book when it comes to audience, however: because this is the audience he has been cultivating very successfully for several decades, and it is the audience where this particular book already has and will continue to find many readers: ie the class of artists and intellectuals (many of whom are academics) who choose to live in rural settings (or keep a vacation home there)—and enjoy reading poetry. This is why I know this book will actually be read by quite a few people. I live among this demogrpahic, and have already seen Hinton’s book surface in the wild amongst readers who never expressed a lick of interest in “Zen” or “Buddhism.” (It’s weird—I thought users here would be particularly interested in this tome due to the fact that it will reach completely beyond the world of relgious instituitions and thought, and bring a new wave of secular readers to Zen…sadly the curioisity, verve, and amicability of the contemporary “internet scholar” apprenely leave much to be desired.)
Now, obviously 99% of these folks, the “artist intellectuals” Hinton writes for, would never stoop to touch Reddit—which is precisely why I feel this forum owes them, but even more so Reddit users, a thorough review of Hinton’s book. (And please, do add your comments and opinions about the book to this OP—I would love to see them myself.)
But wait—I suppose some of you may be asking, “well if this book is written for a bunch of folks with oil paint and bruschetta on their fingers, or who have those fancy tethers on their eyeglasses that allow them to be taken off and rested on the chest while while eyes are opened a little wider, looking up and out some window some mountain or some river vista, as they wistfully contemplate their analgoues in medieval China—then why should I be interested?” ::redditor munches doritos:: Well, while that is a question only you can answer, reader, I can say that, if you ever do end up becoming the sort of student of Zen who moves to a rural locale, and begins walking around with a stick—or even if you just visit on some pastoral vacation—the book will / can be rather useful when you’re walking on the path and you bump into someone who quotes Leibniz, or mumbles something about Chartres when they see a particulalrly grand upended tree…and you want to poke that person in the eye.
Anyway. Hinton on how he sees things, and the very specific class of folks he writes his book for—even while clearly halfway imagining that class into existence himself (call it a “writing trick” I suppose):
(On the “cenrality if landscape” in “Chinese culture and Ch’an practice”)

This explains the centrality of landscape in Chinese culture and Ch’an practice: indeed, the abiding spiritual aspiration of China’s artist-intellectuals was to dwell as integral to rivers-and-mountains landscape. The cultivation of this dwelling took many forms, all of which recognized rivers-and-mountains landscape as the open door to realization. Ancient artist-intellectuals lived whenever possible as recluses in the mountains, wandered there where that cosmological process could be experienced in the most immediate possible way. The arts were considered ways to cultivate that dwelling: poetry being most essentially rivers-and-mountains poetry, painting most essentially rivers-and-mountains painting. And that dwelling was also the central concern of Ch’an practice.

Hmm. Like I said, this guy’s wonky. Maybe if I went to one of my fancier neighbor’s houses—while they smoked high-cbd, low THC cannabis, and casually ate something I didn’t even recognize (likely while dipping it in something else that looks like my monthly food budget contained in one bowl)—and listened to them pontificate about what happened that one time they “did psylicibin right after reading Walt Whitman on a camping trip in the Himalayas”…this would resonate. [Linseed: Hey, they read a lot—but I’m not saying they’re particulalry skilled at reading what when where or how!]
Anyway, you see how Hinton writes about this stuff. “Good luck getting through WWIII ‘aritst-intelleftuals’! I truly hope your walnut wardrobes and families and looms and easels and designer dog breeds—and literally to die for appaeritif spreads—all manage to navigate history safely together, with nary a hiccough or a stumble!”
—Linseeed (for reals)
In this next passage we see Hinton’s highly personal and very…idk, sort of “radically independent”² take on the history and location of Ch’an. What is interesting is what he brings up about the centrality of mountains in the Ch’an record. (I mean when the local “Zen Master” is often given the name of the local mountain, it does tell you something.) Anwyay, Hinton being weird and some other stuff:

Ch’an’s beginnings can be traced to around the fourth century C.E., when there was a resurgence and deepening of Taoist thought (Dark- Enigma Learning) together with the beginning of landscape’s centrality for China’s artist-intellectuals, most notably when China’s mature mainstream poetic tradition emerged in the form of rivers- and-mountains poetry invented by two epochal poets: T’ao Ch’ien and Hsieh Ling-yün (author of “Regarding the Source Ancestral,” a seminal text in Ch’an). The reason for this is no doubt the mirror- deep clarity of empty mirror-mind that Buddhist meditation so resolutely cultivated. And in fact, the original meanings of the Ch’an ideogram, before it was chosen to translate the Sanskrit dhyana (“meditation”), were “altar” and “sacrifice to rivers-and-mountains.” Hence, meditation as a place where one honors or celebrates rivers- and-mountains. In addition, Ch’an monasteries were typically located in remote mountains (those in cities surrounded themselves with the domesticated landscapes of gardens), and Ch’an masters leading those monasteries generally took the names of local mountains as their own because they so deeply identified with mountain landscape: Hundred-Elder Mountain, Yellow-Bitterroot Mountain, Cloud-Gate Mountain, Heaven-Dragon Mountain, Wind- Source Mountain, River-Act Mountain, Buddha-Land Mountain, Cloud-Lucent Mountain, Doubt-Shrine Mountain, Fathom Mountain, Moon-Shrine Mountain, and indeed: Mirror-Sight Mountain.

So much for the “New Ager Crack” chapter—let’s get to some interesting stuff.

法 Dharma

Holy Smokes! Hinton is finally gonna talk about something real! 😜 (Or at least we can hope…I have no idea—these are uncharted waters for me from here on out.)

In common usage, 法 (Dharma) means “law.” The first sense of the “law” in Ch’an is simply the teachings of the Ch’an tradition, the essential truths about reality and the essential principles that guide practice. But that initial meaning is quickly dismantled, because Ch’an’s essential teaching resides outside of words and ideas.

Oh shit! Did he just kill all scholars with one stroke?!? Those feisty artist-intellectuals! Must be a warzone in the academy these days, what between the old guard and the encroahing corporatists, who carry the banner of “truth” wherever they go backlit by flames.
After this passage he goes into some of his worst (imo) schtick: talking about how Tao “unfurled” into “Dahrma / Ch’an”, etc. The aritst intellectuals might slurp it up, idk—but that milkshake offers no real flavor to a student of Zen that I detect.
Now he quotes Huangbo (whom he coyly refers to as “Yellow Bitteroot Mountain”):

This dharma is mind: outside of mind, there is no dharma. And this mind is dharma: outside of dharma, there is no mind.

And wowzers, this is going to make some folks choke on tea:

Mountain continues (in a passage we have already seen) to equate both to Absence: “Mind is of itself Absence-mind, is indeed Absence- mind Absence.” So in Ch’an, dharma can be known through meditation where one can “see original-nature.” In fact, Bodhidharma described dharma as “the inner-pattern of original- nature’s purity.”18

Pretty spicy, n’est pas, zen users? Now, this “Inner Pattern” concept is an interesting one that I’ll come back to in a future post. For now, he ends on the “dharma” thusly:

And so, dharma’s wordless teaching resides in empty-mind, rivers- and-mountains landscape, the sheer thusness of everyday life.
And as Patriarch Sudden- Horse Way-Entire says, dwelling as integral to that dharma is itself the liberation of awakening: The dharma of all things themselves, that is the Buddha-dharma. All those dharmas together are liberation, and that liberation is the existence-tissue itself all clarity absolute.

Is not “Sudden-Horse Way-Entire” the absolute best “Zen Master Name” for that particular patriarch? Imo, the names are the most fun part of the book thus far.
What did you think of the last paragraph, zen? Is it comprehensible to you? Or does it make you sneeze birkenstocks, and screw Odyssean wax out of your ear with one finger?
My opinion so far is that Cleary is defintiely a better translator, and that this “intro” book seems so wonky, thus far, that I am not sure if it will ever limp its way out of the library of some retired Don Quixote, or not. Thankfully, time will tell—and all I have to do is write a book report.
—Linseed
PS: How was that, sje? It took both you and spring herself peeking in my window this morning—but I did eek out some content.
¹ The most recent installments were made under the moniker of u/golden_eyebrow, that alter-id I conjured to a lonely and savage life of historical piracy, and launched into the past and future last summer.
² Is it still worth making literary or etymological jokes in this forum? Or am I already the last of the funny people?

With certain covert narcs, I have been certain we knew each other in a past life. The connection was so easy, they were so alluring, even seemed so familiar as to be like family, impossibly, somehow.
Turns out they are like family. That’s precisely the problem.
When in a trauma bond of all-consuming toxic “love” or limerence, it’s so, so hard to get free. It’s a shameful, secret drug, a self harm that you hate about yourself that drains your joy. Your non-supply friends don’t understand it at all and can’t help with your addiction anyway. Your addiction is your narc’s dirty secret about you. Only they know they extent of your bewildering masochism and low self worth, and they absolutely relish that fact. They love dominating you, and anyone they can, without consent.
As you are so alone with your addiction to being supply, it is extremely hard to resist hoovering. The mirage of relief, a little hair of the dog that bit you, is the short-term dopamine “reward” of breaking no contact for a paltry, finite serving of narc attention [abuse]. Always finite, always cruel. You accept it because you believe you don’t deserve better.
Not anymore. Self worth. No contact. Supply no more. Self differentiation.

I self harmed on my thigh for about a couple weeks after being almost a month clean and they've all healed because they were considered "cat scratches" but they left these small scare like things in my thigh, there faded but there a still there even though there healed. I noticed these and I didn't think my sister would notice but we share a room and in the morning we get changed for school in the same room and removing my shorts they can be visible but I catch her looking down at them and I worry she'll find out about what I was doing because I have sh for 3 years now and I told them I quite at the beginning of last year and secretly throughout the year I've been sh'ing and they have never found out. I'm just scared she sees them and knows what's going on because if she does then I'll be in trouble with my parents even though they've told me flat out they don't care if I cut myself because I don't use a razor.. it hurts but it hurts more when it's my own sister seeing it. I don't know how to cover them because I thought they weren't as visible but seeing now it is. I don't usually sleep with pants on just a longer shirt to cover up so this morning I wouldn't get out of bed but I was sitting up and my sister got mad at me and tore me sheets off of me to try and get me to get up and I noticed her looking down at them because my shirt rolled up. I still played not ecknowledge them to mabey make her stop looking but It wasn't working I asked as if they weren't even there and got up and put my skirt on (uniform school) but I just don't know what to do about it. I'm not scared of her telling I'm scared to look like a struggling sister when I try to be the strong confident sister for her, I don't want to damage how I Appel to her as a sister.. she means a lot to me and her seeing me so low makes me scared she'll worry for me. like I said early my parents don't care for me or my problems, I just want her to be happy. we both share trauma from are childhood and seeing her sad or worried ruins me because of how much I cling to her, she's basically my only friend at school now because my friend group dumped me and I don't have anywhere else to go but her, I struggle a lot but my parents just turn there heads it makes it worse even when there trying to "help". they invalidate all my problems. back when I first cut and told them they said "I get worse scratches at work, I will only care when it becomes serious." I still hate how long those words stay in my head. they don't care for there own daughter? I just want to sleep forever.

I began seriously questioning my gender a little while ago (I'm AMAB). I had had a few moments of thinking "oh god what if I'm trans?!" over the past year, and had been low key thinking about the possibility for the past 2 years more or less, but never allowed my mind to seriously go there and consider it. I'd wave it away as a random thought.
I had become more aware of trans people as I had been watching more and more trans creators on youtube, and a suspiciously high number of creators I used to watch a lot when I was younger came out as trans women. I slowly found myself enjoying and relating to trans creators more and more, and it got to a point where there was a special something "extra" to art coming from trans people, for no particular reason I could put my finger on, and "completely coincidentally" all my favourite creators to use for comfort background noise happened to be trans women.
I eventually started experimenting with some feminine clothes, my curiosity sparked by drag queens online, and it felt like I had kicked the hornet's nest. I think the euphoria from that early experimentation was pretty undeniable, and whether or not I was trans has been more or less the only thing I can think about ever since, and I also happen to be going through possibly the busyest periods of my life so far between work and school, so it's not been a very easy time tbh.
Anyway, the reason I write this post is I've been feeling a lot of that initial excitement about discovering myself fade away and be replaced with intense doubt and just a general feeling of shittiness. I am worrying a lot that I don't really have enough of a reason to transition. I've always felt a disconnect from other boys, honestly failing to fit in with them as a kid, and still now I see them as a weird sort of alien species, but I'm sure lots of men struggle to identify with masculinity when so much of it is wrapped up in toxic undertones. But I also don't think I ever had the thought "I wish I was a girl". I never dreamt of being another gender, I never wished on my birthday to be magically transformed into a girl. This one experience that almost every transfem I've ever heard or read talk about their transition have in common, I never had. I feel like there may be evidence that my brain has danced around this idea a bit, thinking things that hang around the sort conceptual area of "I wish I was a girl" or "I wish I wasn't a boy", but it never cut to the chase. I also believe I have very little gender dysphoria, at least so far. I had a couple of episodes of quite intense bottom dysphoria, always after drinking, but I've been so deep in questioning that I wonder if I could have somehow made myself feel it, out of confirmation bias or something. I don't feel like I can really trust my own feelings, I feel too biased towards wanting to believe I'm trans, because if I'm not...I guess I don't really know who to be. Who I was certainly wasn't cutting it. And I don't know if a woman is even what I want to be. Apart from the fear of just looking like a man in a dress (I'm sorry to any transfems reading this, it's not an idea I apply to anyone other than myself, but I'm sure many of you know understand that), I also just don't necessarily think "I want ot be that" when I see women walking around outside. I don't know how I feel about people treating me like a woman, of people's perception of me changing, and of course, as sad as it is to say, of losing a lot of privilage. I have really enjoyed being treated like a girl with female or non binary friends, but with my guy friends it's almost uncomfortable, through no fault of theirs, as everyone is being supportive. And I'm very scared of what it'll be like if some of the more paternal figures in my life were to find out, like some teachers I am close to.
But these feelings of confusion in regards to my femininity have been growing in particular since my mother found out about my questioning. I hadn't intended to tell her until I was way deeper into this and absolutely sure who I was, but to keep a long story short, she found out early.
I came out as a 'potential trans woman' to close close friends quite quickly, as I knew they would be supportive and wanted outside opinions of the vortex of ideas in my head, and have been going by a female name and pronouns for a while, and was having a lot of fun with that as well. Everybody has been incredibly supportive except my mother, who unfortunately is really struggling to understand and accept this possibility, and manifests that by saying pretty dismissive and sometimes nasty things, responding to any reason I give her for my possibly being trans with a different reason I could be feeling like that. She's very good at coming up with these other reasons, she knows me very well after all. I can't blame it entirely on her, but I feel like every time the discussion of my gender comes up, I wake up the next day feeling more like a guy, more like I made everything up, like this is all a massive mistake and I've confirmation-biased the shit out of myself. I had a particularly involved conversation with her yesterday and today I felt basically no connection to my femininity. I almost felt like no pronouns were good for me at all, like I'm just an amorphous blob who is tired of dealing with the entire thing. "Just call me Thing (they/them/it)" and be done with it" was the mood.
I realize I am very very early to all of this, and I need to give it time, but I guess I really wanted to put some of my thoughts put there to see if anyone can relate, cause to be honest I have a really hard time seeing myself in most trans people's stories, and it makes me think I could be getting this all wrong. Sorry if this is quite an incoherent monologue, it was so difficult to decide what to talk about in the first place, and getting it in an order that made any sense was even harder, thanks so much for reading it all if you did <3
TL:DR I'm a freshly cracked egg(MTF), but as the initial euphoria of early experimentation has died down and I've hit some resistance from my mother who found out way too soon, I'm beginning to doubt if I'm really trans of if I have made it all up to convince myself, one of my main doubts being fuelled by the fact that I don't recall ever actually wishing I was a girl in so many words.

All I read are negative comments on that press but I really want to get my own press for the shirts I sell on Amazon. They go upwards of 6 Colors but my profit margin is very low. I don’t make many sales but I’m assuming that if I make them and send them in so that they become Prime, those numbers have a lot of potentials to go up.
I don’t have 1500$ to buy a better quality 4-color press.
Am I dreaming if I expect to make quality 6 color prints on this thing?
P.S. I don’t want to outsource, I want to learn the craft and open the doors to other opportunities.

So I've been dating this girl for over 3 years. Both my and her first relationship. I do love her and we get along quite well. However, I am internally torn on whether to keep dating her or not. She is a lovely, kindhearted and sweet girl, but for the last year I am extremely interested in literally all other women. I moved from my small town to the capital city for college and there's so many beautiful women I see every day in the gym, in school, on the street, in clubs and pretty much everywhere. There's no hiding from my lust.
On one hand, I want to stay with her, because she is really awesome, but I feel an almost irresistible need to fuck other women. I am constantly thinking of other women and I feel bad about it.
On the other hand, I know that if I was without her, I'd be sad and regret my decision (the grass is always greener...) I know it because we did separate half a year ago for a month and first it was awesome, I finally felt free, but then I became extremely sad and regretful of what I had done since I lost such a good woman. Then we got back together. But now, 6 months later, the same thoughts that made me break up with her in the first place are coming back stronger than ever.
I know that if I stay in the relationship, I will suffer. I know that if I break up with her, I will suffer. I know if I cheat on her, I will feel bad and suffer. There seems to be no easy way out for me. I have tried suggesting an open relationship in the past but got a hard no. She is deeply in love with me, way more than I am with her and says I am the only guy she wants and definitely doesn't want to share.
The worst thing is I know these college years are the prime years and I kinda do not want to miss them being in a relationship I don't know for certain will last forever. The idea of dating around in my 30s or even worse, 40s and above is extremely cringe and unappealing to me. Those are the years to have a stable relationship.
The relationship itself is quite good, we are pretty well synergized, don't really argue but also don't really talk that much about anything important. The biggest problem is that the relationship is carrying around baggage from when we were younger. We rarely talk deeply or about important stuff, since I have a problem talking to her that probably is a problem only since it was a problem back then and now it feels unnatural to me to talk to her. I have no problems opening up and talking to my friends, however for some reason I just cannot bring myself to tell her things. I just keep them to myself. Even the things I tell other people without a problem.
However, I know that she is basically an unicorn and I would have a hard time finding a better woman than her to marry.
Or at least I think I know. I know there were things I was so sure of when I was 16 and then, with experience I realised the opposite.
I also sometimes catch myself saying and doing things I know she doesn't like or may hurt her because I subconsciously maybe want to make her stop loving me and/or break up with me. I don't want to hurt her but I always catch myself doing it. I'm getting better at keeping this to a minimum though.
The ideal option would of course be pushing a button, turning her off for 5 years and then turning her back on, but I cannot do that unfortunately.
Rationally, I know that keeping a good girl I love and I'm in a good relationship with and marrying her is way better than leave her just for the sake of having fun with random girls and then risk not finding another good woman.
I also know that most likely this problem I'm having seems like a huge deal to me since I don't have that much life experience, especially in relationships since this is my first one. and is almost laughable by older people. That's why I want an opinion from you.
Another thing that makes me want to stay with her is that we have gone through and grew so much in those 3 years, I quite frankly cannot imagine being in a relationship with anyone else. The thought of it makes me cringe (yes my cringe meter is really low)
TLDR:
I'm in a pretty good stable relationship but I am extremely torn deeply since I feel an extreme need to experience other women. I don't know how to act since all possible moves I can think of end in pain and suffering for me in the short run and have a high probability of causing even more pain and suffering in the long run. I don't know what I want. I don't know what's the move I should take. I hope someone who was in a similar situation or just someone with more life and relationship experience as me reads this and gives me advice.

My sister recently got a nose piercing, and when we visited my parents, my mom gave her a lecture about not being of the world. She says that facial piercings and tattoos are a signal that you fit in with the world, and you can't be a light to the world because of that. She also regards going to rock concerts as being part of the world and expressed dissatisfaction at my sister spending money on going to a hockey game. She even seems to think that the fact that I wear makeup daily (though it's pretty light and takes 5-10 minutes for me to do) is a sign that I put too much emphasis on my appearance.
I had just been reading through Luke recently and I told her that this attitude seems a lot like the Pharisees nitpicking at Jesus and his disciples doing "work" on the Sabbath and having a overly narrow, legalistic view of an acceptable Christian life. She said those verses were actually only relevant in that the Pharisees were saying Jesus couldn't be the Messiah because he was allowing those violations.
It just seems like enjoying fun activities out in the world and styling yourself how you want doesn't impede your ability to live a godly life. As long as you don't make frivolous things a priority, they're fine.