I have nothing to hide but I’m feeling anxious about owning a foreign “small business.” I don’t think anyone will really get what it is.
Just received my TJO for an engineering position (Navy).
I currently hold a secret clearance where I have disclosed my foreign contacts to my current employers FSO (currently work as a contractor for another company until my FJO). This past year we actually “put our company on paper” as an LLC. I had about $14k of profits to disclose on taxes so not a lot. We incorporated in the UK because one of the partners just knew how to form a LLC there quickly, cheaply, easily, and it’s the UK.
The side business:
Does not require work during work hours Has no conflicts that I can think of Doesn’t involve what I will do for the Govt
My concern is that it’s unusual. We are trying to build an automated trading algorithm for futures markets (currency, indices, etc). We sell quantitative data from the models we currently have (hence the income) while we try to build our own.
Will it ever take off? I don’t know probably not. That’s not the point though… my concern is that someone from ethics is going to look and have no idea what it even is or means. Even if it never takes off in a big way, I do make some money from it now and it doesn’t seem right to lose years of sweat equity over perception.
I am probably overthinking this, and the whole process has been pretty stressful in general as changing jobs usually is. The federal government process just makes it worse I think.

Hello everybody, I've considered trying to make a post about this for a while now and just haven't gotten myself to do it. I think I'd like to try to now. I have been on a pretty amazing "spiritual journey" (is what I've found the easiest to refer to it as) for the last couple years, and I also realized (self-diagnosed) that I was autistic I think sometime last year (I'm pushing 30 now). I feel like I have found a "connection" between the two that- if nothing else- I have found entertaining to play with the thought.
Anyways, to start things off. I will try to briefly explain my beliefs. I have found (Baba) Ram Dass and Alan Watts have both been able to reach me with their lectures/papers/books/etc. Their words have made sense to me that no place else has managed to reach me. A lot of what they are considered to have done, is help bring Eastern philosophies and ideas to the West. To my understanding, the also both seemed to believe in "non-duality".
The basic idea behind "non-duality" is that because duality exists (perfect opposites: yin/yang, black/white, existence/nonexistence, up/down, etc/etc/etc/etc) that implies that non-duality exists. We COULD NOT comprehend "black" if we couldn't comprehend "white". Same with "up" and "down", etc/etc. They exist ONLY TOGETHER. Which means that they aren't actually separate, they are one total entity. The Yin/Yang is not a white side separate from a black side. The Yin/Yang is the entire thing mixed together.
So where are we so far? What we consider Life is not multiple segments or parts, but one single infinitely continuous entity. A way I like to visualize this is reincarnation. After this body dies, "I" will wake up and experience as perhaps King Leonidas. And then when that body dies perhaps "I" will wake up and experience as a tree, then a rock, then this current body's mother, then Mars, etc/etc/etc. Keep in mind "time" is a man-made construct. When "I" "reincarnate" there is no time/space to be concerned with. Just more experiences.
Continuing on, that means "I" and "You" and "rock" and "Mars" are all one single entity. It is all "Life", basically just playing hide and seek with itself. This includes anything and everything you could imagine... including "God". And I don't mean just the Christian sense of the word "God". I mean the Islamic idea of "God", any of the Greek or Roman pantheons, "Mother Earth" or "Gaea".
"I" am "God". Just as "You" are "God". And your most hated bully is "God". The tree you passed by on the way to work is "God". Earth is "God". "God" = "Life".
Moving onto where the title comes in. I have heard ND people be called names such as "Children of God" and stuff like that. Often, I feel like there's a negative connotation associated with it. And I will quickly say, whenever someone is saying that ND people are the "Children of God", I don't think they have this in mind at all. If I had to guess 99/100 times it's them making an excuse for their judgement.
BUT I think they're onto something. It is clear that at the very least, modern day civilization appears to be designed for the NT community. They naturally seem to gel the best with everyday life, they seem less anxious, happier in general, more successful, less barrier-to-entry for everything from friendships to work. But- with comfort comes "laziness" for lack of a better word. They're thinking less out of the box. They're living in their little world and enjoying the heck out of it. Why contemplate the meaning of the universe when you're happy sitting on the couch with your buddy and watching a movie you enjoy.
Whereas the ND community seems the opposite. We are less comfortable, we do more "overthinking", more "imaginative" thinking. More "what-ifs". What if the world was designed more to accommodate us? What if I was NT? What if God hates me? What if? What if? What if? I couldn't tell you how many times I've sat and tried to think of an imaginative solution to a problem I feel like most NT don't experience, at least not to the extent I do. So, following that logic, since the ND community is less comfortable in this state, and more likely to try some "imaginative" thinking, I think that puts the ND community much closer to the truth.
Maybe I'm just a nutcase, but this stuff makes sense to me. ND are closer to "God" because we are more aware that "this life" we're currently experiencing... it doesn't make sense for this to be everything. Why would I be born into a world just to suffer? So someone else that started out with less issues with me can prosper? Then the opposite would happen to, someone else would suffer so I could prosper, and that would continue infinitely. How could that make sense? Non-duality.
I think I'm just rambling trying to figure out how to get this into words at this point so I'll try to summarize one last time.
ND are closer to "God" in the sense that we are closer to understanding the big picture, and that is because we don't understand or fit in with this current smaller picture. NT understand and fit in with this current experience- this "smaller picture", but because of that, they're less likely to even recognize that this is just a small part of a much much bigger experience.
I hope this has helped or at least entertained someone! You can probably see why I've struggled with deciding to post this, forming these ideas into human tongue is not easy lol. Feel free to ask any questions and I'll do my best to answer at least how I personally see!

1. Carlin had a big week of giggles and guffaws for the camera. She took an influencer trip to Skyland Ranch, used a Billie Eilish song on an IG reel of her children and then gaslit her audience into believing she and Evan have well known catchphrases “CrAAzy”, “Love, Bye” and “bruh”. They slapped these random words on hats and TShirts and people STOOD IN THE RAIN to buy them. I saw a grown azz man in a “BRUH” hat. Other wild things that happened at their Cash and Carry sale included someone taking pics of their kids in front of the Tesla, referring to the dresses as “she” and calling their vlog “vloggy”.I have cringed too much over all of it. Layla put on a full show for the camera at a nail salon AND the dance studio while Zade earned his keep wearing pretend high heel shoes. They wrapped it all up in a big terrible bow by featuring Hobby Lobby.
   
2. Whitney played second fiddle all week to Carlin… folding shirts, holding babies and modeling Temu dresses that they marked up 347%. Zach was back in the Bates Kitchen this week and decided the best way to get views was to bring in the kids so we got to watch Kacie mix and mess and poke around in cake mix and canned frosting to concoct cake pops. Then the grossest thing happened… ZACH BATES FARTED. During a COOKING SHOW. IN THE KITCHEN. I mean he ripped a big ole juicy poot and they all laughed and decided to air it and then they SOLD those dang FART POPS at the Cash and Carry sale. He also made some terrible Psychology jokes. I bet soon enough they will have “fart pops” on a hat for sale.
   
3. The Balka crowd were living it up this week in a 600$ a night beachfront condo that included a beach chair service. This family trip was really just a content mill and man did Josie churn it out. She is full on exploiting her children while drowning in a sea of beige. What has happened that she is suddenly, desperately pouring out content on every platform… did Kelton tell her she needed to make some money to pay for her Sephora habit OR is a product launch in the works? Our Fundie Kim K.is pushing links while living life through a gauzy filter featuring tinkly music.
   
4. Katie had to let Travis go on this fake tour, but not before she let all the groupies know that was her mans. Trav said he was only singing 3 or 4 songs at each show so tell me again why they moved from Jersey for THIS? Speaking of Jersey, the vlog featured just a blip of the Clark family and it looks like GiGi has been drowning her sorrows by remodeling at her house. Katie got them back to the hive as quickly as possible and spent her week with Carlin and co at the playground and pool.
   
5. Lydia is bored bc she is married to Trace. All of her photography skills are now used to take pics of sneakers, weights, water bottles and pickleball. This crew has been featuring Lydia’s family pretty heavily lately, including spending Mothers Day with them where they made small talk with Trace and pretended to like him. Trace spilled the beans that his parents gave away all the pets at the big house while simultaneously telling us that Lawson doesn’t take care of Duke bc he gets dropped off there at least once a month. Later they debuted 40 minutes of Trace painting Lydia’s face like it was a fence while mouth breathing. Lydia’s mom called to show her the pet emu eating cherries and that was the best darn thing they have shown us in months. More emu please-less Trace!
   
6. Michael and Brandon brought in the professionals this week and exploited Layla and Zade Stewart. Layla is as good as any second year stage student at this point… BUT Aunt Michael has rules so she had to slow her role. Brandon was excited to draw Layla a princess after 3 weeks of sharks and whales… honestly everything he draws sort of looks the same. They also went to Honea Path to see Poppa Bill and Momma Jane who was smiling that it wasn’t one of the grands with 18 kids.
   
7. Down in passive-aggressive land Alyssa Webster told the tale of how all FOUR of her girls were asked to be flower girls and how that had NEVER happened and how SPECIAL that was. After several posts exclaiming her undying devotion and love to “buddy” she showed off the bad 80’s prom dress she was given by that dress shop she promotes. If a flame came anywhere near her it would have been all she wrote for Mrs. Webster. That dress was awful… but not as bad as the one she was gifted from BSB(which she called “my sister’s boutique”). The vlog shows John being an absolute jerk while Alyssa sneers and snarls and tries very hard not to say that her Mother’s Day sucked. It did suck and in order to make it up to her, daddy Webster put on a button down shirt and took her to the Cheesecake Factory. After all of the slap happy crappy birthday parties and Christmases she has given her girls… she expected WHAT for Mother’s Day??
   
8. Lawson made an absolute fool of himself while revealing the worst kept secret ever… it’s a boy, yall. Michael and Brandon punished themselves by throwing the party and doing all of the work while Tiffy and Lawson preened for the camera and asked people over and over what their guess was. This was filmed on I Love You Day weekend at the IBLP leaders church so this is old, old footage aaand these people are all perfectly fine with what their dad does. Tiffy and Law made it a point to say there was a bigger crowd than was at their wedding. Tiffy cried after finding out she is carrying a little Lawson and Duke was nowhere to be found. I do think he congratulated them on IG though, so all is good.
   
9. Oh Erin… what a week you had. You got Momma and Daddy Bates all to yourself for Mothers Day and for Carson/Charles’ birthday. Gil and KJ also picked up a nice paycheck for speaking and preaching at the Paine’s new church. Even though Erin happily joined a church that prides itself on promoting the corporal punishment of children, she still put together a glowing reel for Carson/Charles’ special day that featured him down at it at his second job of brothermomming. Not one picture of herself with the child was included. Later Erin threw a free notebook in with her construction paper cards as an incentive to buy. Free paper for buying paper is super exciting, right?
   
10. Bits and Bytes… Jadon and Layla are the same height. The Utah photographer that Alyssa used is followed by ALL of the Bates. Everyone of these Trad Wives are now promoting Easy plants. Why can’t Zach have any closeups in his cooking videos? Jeb/Jud broke his arm.
    

Have a great week friends and… how many Baptists does it takes to change a lightbulb…. CHANGE?!? Who mentioned CHANGE!?🫠😜

1. Carlin had a big week of giggles and guffaws for the camera. She took an influencer trip to Skyland Ranch, used a Billie Eilish song on an IG reel of her children and then gaslit her audience into believing she and Evan have well known catchphrases “CrAAzy”, “Love, Bye” and “bruh”. They slapped these random words on hats and TShirts and people STOOD IN THE RAIN to buy them. I saw a grown azz man in a “BRUH” hat. Other wild things that happened at their Cash and Carry sale included someone taking pics of their kids in front of the Tesla, referring to the dresses as “she” and calling their vlog “vloggy”.I have cringed too much over all of it. Layla put on a full show for the camera at a nail salon AND the dance studio while Zade earned his keep wearing pretend high heel shoes. They wrapped it all up in a big terrible bow by featuring Hobby Lobby.
   
2. Whitney played second fiddle all week to Carlin… folding shirts, holding babies and modeling Temu dresses that they marked up 347%. Zach was back in the Bates Kitchen this week and decided the best way to get views was to bring in the kids so we got to watch Kacie mix and mess and poke around in cake mix and canned frosting to concoct cake pops. Then the grossest thing happened… ZACH BATES FARTED. During a COOKING SHOW. IN THE KITCHEN. I mean he ripped a big ole juicy poot and they all laughed and decided to air it and then they SOLD those dang FART POPS at the Cash and Carry sale. He also made some terrible Psychology jokes. I bet soon enough they will have “fart pops” on a hat for sale.
   
3. The Balka crowd were living it up this week in a 600$ a night beachfront condo that included a beach chair service. This family trip was really just a content mill and man did Josie churn it out. She is full on exploiting her children while drowning in a sea of beige. What has happened that she is suddenly, desperately pouring out content on every platform… did Kelton tell her she needed to make some money to pay for her Sephora habit OR is a product launch in the works? Our Fundie Kim K.is pushing links while living life through a gauzy filter featuring tinkly music.
   
4. Katie had to let Travis go on this fake tour, but not before she let all the groupies know that was her mans. Trav said he was only singing 3 or 4 songs at each show so tell me again why they moved from Jersey for THIS? Speaking of Jersey, the vlog featured just a blip of the Clark family and it looks like GiGi has been drowning her sorrows by remodeling at her house. Katie got them back to the hive as quickly as possible and spent her week with Carlin and co at the playground and pool.
   
5. Lydia is bored bc she is married to Trace. All of her photography skills are now used to take pics of sneakers, weights, water bottles and pickleball. This crew has been featuring Lydia’s family pretty heavily lately, including spending Mothers Day with them where they made small talk with Trace and pretended to like him. Trace spilled the beans that his parents gave away all the pets at the big house while simultaneously telling us that Lawson doesn’t take care of Duke bc he gets dropped off there at least once a month. Later they debuted 40 minutes of Trace painting Lydia’s face like it was a fence while mouth breathing. Lydia’s mom called to show her the pet emu eating cherries and that was the best darn thing they have shown us in months. More emu please-less Trace!
   
6. Michael and Brandon brought in the professionals this week and exploited Layla and Zade Stewart. Layla is as good as any second year stage student at this point… BUT Aunt Michael has rules so she had to slow her role. Brandon was excited to draw Layla a princess after 3 weeks of sharks and whales… honestly everything he draws sort of looks the same. They also went to Honea Path to see Poppa Bill and Momma Jane who was smiling that it wasn’t one of the grands with 18 kids.
   
7. Down in passive-aggressive land Alyssa Webster told the tale of how all FOUR of her girls were asked to be flower girls and how that had NEVER happened and how SPECIAL that was. After several posts exclaiming her undying devotion and love to “buddy” she showed off the bad 80’s prom dress she was given by that dress shop she promotes. If a flame came anywhere near her it would have been all she wrote for Mrs. Webster. That dress was awful… but not as bad as the one she was gifted from BSB(which she called “my sister’s boutique”). The vlog shows John being an absolute jerk while Alyssa sneers and snarls and tries very hard not to say that her Mother’s Day sucked. It did suck and in order to make it up to her, daddy Webster put on a button down shirt and took her to the Cheesecake Factory. After all of the slap happy crappy birthday parties and Christmases she has given her girls… she expected WHAT for Mother’s Day??
   
8. Lawson made an absolute fool of himself while revealing the worst kept secret ever… it’s a boy, yall. Michael and Brandon punished themselves by throwing the party and doing all of the work while Tiffy and Lawson preened for the camera and asked people over and over what their guess was. This was filmed on I Love You Day weekend at the IBLP leaders church so this is old, old footage aaand these people are all perfectly fine with what their dad does. Tiffy and Law made it a point to say there was a bigger crowd than was at their wedding. Tiffy cried after finding out she is carrying a little Lawson and Duke was nowhere to be found. I do think he congratulated them on IG though, so all is good.
   
9. Oh Erin… what a week you had. You got Momma and Daddy Bates all to yourself for Mothers Day and for Carson/Charles’ birthday. Gil and KJ also picked up a nice paycheck for speaking and preaching at the Paine’s new church. Even though Erin happily joined a church that prides itself on promoting the corporal punishment of children, she still put together a glowing reel for Carson/Charles’ special day that featured him down at it at his second job of brothermomming. Not one picture of herself with the child was included. Later Erin threw a free notebook in with her construction paper cards as an incentive to buy. Free paper for buying paper is super exciting, right?
   
10. Bits and Bytes… Jadon and Layla are the same height. The Utah photographer that Alyssa used is followed by ALL of the Bates. Everyone of these Trad Wives are now promoting Easy plants. Why can’t Zach have any closeups in his cooking videos? Jeb/Jud broke his arm.
    

Have a great week friends and… how many Baptists does it takes to change a lightbulb…. CHANGE?!? Who mentioned CHANGE!?🫠😜

My name is Dr. Smith, not my real name of course, but for purposes of storytelling it will have to suffice. I have been practicing medicine at an Asian country as a general practitioner. I'm relatively new and I practice at a small village, not too far from civilization, half a day's travel by car and a few hours by boat from the country's capital, but very rural nonetheless, complete with superstitious beliefs and customs. I decided to stay here when I first graduated and passed the licensure exam for two reasons: first, I have a place to stay here, my family's ancestral home (although none of my direct relatives have lived there for years), said ancestors being one of the first people to settle in the area and second, because my family had always been the physicians in this small community as far as anyone remembers. Me, my grandfather and his father before him all went to the city to study medicine and went back here to practice it, like there was a pull, a calling, to sacrifice the convenient, fast-paced city life for the quiet and serene. My mother hated the idea, as clingy as she is to me, saying things like she wanted me to always be around where she could protect me, but you can't really help it when purpose calls. To be honest, it feels good providing a wide range of services to the honest people of our small, humble town, no greater feeling than helping the less privelaged, educating them and dispelling preconceived notions and old wives tales which are aplenty in my country, especially here.
I still recall how everything began. I made a makeshift clinic at one of the rooms of my ancestral home, it used to be my grandfather's office, but it felt old, antique, and perhaps too... professional, nothing wrong with that, but I wanted my patients to feel a more homely setting. So, I rearranged a bit, removed the imposing self portrait of my great-grandfather wearing his white coat that hang on the wall and transferred it to a more private area of the house. I changed the dim, barely functioning lights into brighter, more modern ones, removed the exceedingly extravagant chandelier and equipped the room with materials and equipment that I deemed necessary for my practice. I retained the wooden floors, but outfitted the walls with charts and more colorful decorations, in anticipation for the occasional pediatric patient. It was beginning to look less like an old abandoned house where teenagers went for the spooks and more like a place of healing and betterment, a clean place offering a clean mind...or so I hope.
"Your grandfather would have a heart attack if he wasn't dead already, seeing what you've done with his old clinic" quipped Martha, our housekeeper. All I know about Martha is that my grandfather hired her as a young teen and she has been here since then, she babysat and raised my mother as her own, and even took care of me as a toddler. Considering her age, she mostly supervises the younger and more capable help rather than doing tasks herself. None of them stay at the house, but they get called upon when me or any of my relatives were expected. Most of the family consider her as one of our own at this point.
"Well i'm sure great grandpa on the other hand enjoys the change of view" I replied jokingly. "Besides, I bet the patients would appreciate not being treated in such a dark, gloomy room."
"You know how your grandfather was..." she replies, that the idea of a dark, gloomy, old man liking dark, gloomy, old places was a no brainer. "...but everything aside, it is so nice to see you again, have you been feeling better? What did your mother think of you staying here?" she said with what I felt as outmost sincerity, "I used to chase and carry you around this estate and now look at you, about to carry out your family's legacy as a physician yourself" she continued, with a hint of pride from her tone.
I smiled. I myself couldn't think of a reason why a well respected man, revered even, by this town and it's people for everything he has done would act nonchalant and depressed, always with a jaded look in his eyes and stay in an equally dim and depressing part of his house, I've always known him to be like that, but was he always?
"I am better now. It's good to see you too, I'm glad you're staying healthy, and mom sure did not like it but well...she told me to say hi on her behalf" I told Martha. She beams up and smiles on my mother's mention.
"Well...I took the liberty of digging up your grandfather's documents, records and his patient charts, I doubt many of them still live but I thought maybe you'd like to have a look, I placed them around your desk but I can relocate them if you want me to"
"No, that's perfect. That's something I actually intended to do, i'll give it a read, thank you" I replied. I know some of those patients were either old or probably dead to be honest, but seeing data as well as the cases my grandfather had to deal with might help me in the future.
"The villagers already know Dr. Smith's grandson is here, they know you're a doctor, so expect to have a patient one of these days, perhaps as soon as you give the word that your clinic is open" Martha said, as she walks out of the room smiling and slightly waving, signalling a goodbye.
"I'm not even surprised" I think to myself. Places like these, words spreads like wildfire on topics like these, the idea of someone from a known family, coming back from the city, not to mention deciding to stay indefinitely, like the whole village needed notification, like the village demands explanation.
Hours passed and as I was satisfied with my new setup for the clinic, I took a break, sitting down and looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders placed on and around my desk. I picked one, thinking to myself that I might as well have a look now, with nothing else of note to do.
Patient #010438 Name redacted 43/Female
History of present illness: Patient had 3 day history of undocumented fever, dysuria, and bilateral flank pain Did not seek consult, no medications taken
Past Medical History Unremarkable
Personal and Social History Unremarkable
OB history illegible
Physical Examination BP 110/80 HR 102 RR 20
Nonhyperemic tonsils No murmurs Clear breath sounds Nontender abdomen (+) Kidney punch test
Noted a signature of the patient claiming she was not pregnant as a form of waiver
"Jesus grandpa, couldn't your history and physical exam get any lazier?" I thought to myself. Seeing pertinent history not asked and multiple organ systems ignored on physical examination. Given, some of the writing were already faded, the quality of the paper had deteriorated greatly, and plenty of details already illegible, all in all the documents weren't that bad. It sure doesn't help though that he writes like someone in the middle of a warzone practicing heiroglyphs.
I skimmed through more of the documents and patient files, most of the cases are relatively benign, majority are outpatient visits, some are emergency cases and there are the rare ones requiring transfer to a more developed town hours from here with better services and equipment. Time passed and as I lay down the last folder in a pile, I noticed a moderately sized box, probably the size of a briefcase, placed on the floor, dusty but obviously ornate. It piqued my interest although in my mind, I was pretty sure it was nothing but more documents, I decided to give it a look.
I picked a stack up and I started to read:
Patient #00512c Name redacted 32/Female
"Weird" I thought, it was numbered differently, and definitely none of the other documents were lettered. I continued reading:
History of present illness: This is a case of a 32 year old female who came in on date redacted due to a chief complaint of multiple hematomas, abrasions, burn wounds and lacerations on her face, trunk and extremeties..."
"Trauma? An accident? Possible abuse?" I contemplated.
"...patient allegedly noticed easy bruisability 2 weeks prior to consult, followed by alleged spontaneous appearance of abrasions and lacerations 2-3 days from onset of bruising, supposedly waking the patient at night due to the sudden sharp and searing pain, initially small cuts 3-5cm widest on her extremeties and face but eventually progressing to deep cuts measuring approximately 10-50cm on her back, chest, abdomen and lower extremeties. 1 week prior to consult, patient started noticing burning sensations on her skin, causing extreme pain and leaving reddish burn marks on her body, patient also experienced lack of appetite and inability to sleep due to loud voices and..."
"Spontaneous appearance? Easy bruising could be a lot of things, but for it to occur with 'spontaneous' abrasions and lacerations? Not to mention burn marks?" I thought out loud, having doubts about the credibility of the use of the word "spontaneous". Surely it was not an accident, considering it started 2 weeks ago with noted progression. "It could be a hematologic problem with the bruising, but that wouldn't explain the sudden appearance of cuts...maybe accompanied by a dermatologic one, the patient is prone to breaks in the skin? But then again the burn marks...the voices..." I analyzed. I was leaning towards abuse, where the cuts and bruises were inflicted by someone else and the abused, whether in some form of fear or coping, decides that it was "spontaneous" rather than inflicted, but why bother lying to yourself, perhaps the one who did it to her is a partner? Or a loved one? It made sense, someone progressively becoming more aggressive with her as time went by, becoming more and more extreme, from bruises to eventually burning.
It could a combination of illnesses to be honest, one on top of another, perhaps an overly sensitive or extremely dry skin that breaks and peels until it bleeds, an allergic reaction prompting the patient to unconciously scratch till her skin became red and lichenified, voices due to lack of sleep or a mental disorder. But looking at my grandfather's physical examination of her, none of the findings solidifies the possibility of those i've mentioned. Truth be told I also partially allowed myself to tunnel vision on the prospect of an abuse, to the point I've skipped some of the chart's contents that I deemed weren't important and tried to look for information to support my claim, or perhaps to disprove it, rookie mistake, but well, I am a rookie then.
"Patient is widowed, lives alone at a secluded area near redacted, only goes out to buy some necessities from redacted but has very minimal interaction from anyone in the village"
Okay then, either she is hiding the fact someone was with her, who is abusing her like I initially thought of, or it's self harm. "I'm pretty sure grandpa considered everything that went through my mind right now. Let me check his initial impression" I thought, with a tinge of annoyance, considering I felt that the patient lied to my grandfather, and was lying to me, decades after the fact.

1 Trauma, to consider physical abuse versus self harm;

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere" I said to myself, with a bit of pride having the same thought process as a physician with decades more experience than I do.

2 To consider mental disorder, probably psychotic - premature dementia

I chuckled. Premature dementia, didn't think i'd see that term, I thought everyone including those from his time would have used schizophrenia already, then again medicine and medical knowledge isn't as easily passed around as it is now. Psychiatry as a science would be relatively new during his time compared to other disciplines so the fact he considered it based on the patient hearing "voices"? Bravo gramps.
"Well...", I thought to myself, "...plenty of things to consider and rule out, let me check what else is there." A bit of cockiness on picking my grandfather's brain out and feeling good about my train of thought, a practice consult and so far, I'm on my way to a perfect score...

3. To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

.................
I gave the document a stern look, unmoving, unblinking, emotionless. Time has stopped, and I haven't noticed. My brain trying to digest the information, the same way my stomach would probably digest a block of steel...it's just not possible. I read one of my grandfather's diagnosis again:

3 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

I never been one for faith. Evidence is everything. Science is everything. You can replicate it, you can prove it. Most importantly...It. Makes. Sense. I look at beliefs not based on evidence and feel nothing but skepticism if not disdain. Why won't people listen to expert opinion? Why won't people believe in facts? Why explain the unknown in such convoluted ways, requiring submission of oneself when the only thing the truth requires is but comprehension. I looked at that diagnosis feeling disappointment.
Then I felt anger. "Grandpa, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I thought to myself. Here is a woman, full of bruises, cuts and burns all over her body, claiming that she has been suffering for weeks, barely eats or sleeps, was having auditory hallucinations, in dire need of medical, if not emotional and psychological support and one of the things that comes across your mind is possession.
I tried to calm my mind, these are records of the past anyway, I thought. Maybe it was a resignation born out of incompetence. Maybe grandpa wasn't as good of a doctor as I thought he was, that the shortcomings of his knowledge and limited technology of his time prompted him to adopt a more...liberal viewpoint to medicine. Maybe he was just superstitious himself. Maybe the people of this place had leaked some of their local beliefs into his psyche. Maybe isolation changed the man. Or maybe...just maybe...there's something to it.
I've never been one for faith. That goes for my faith in science as well. To just say that something is stupid because it doesn't align with standard, accepted scientific belief is just as detrimental as its counterpart.
I decided to investigate further when I heard the entrance to the room open with force. One of the maids leaning onto the wall by the entrance, still grasping the doorknob and evidently out of breath.
"Sir...ma'am Martha...calling...for you...says...it's...it's...an emergency..." She says in between breaths.
I quickly stood up, feeling sorry for the woman, she just ran, obviously gasping for air as she arrived at the clinic and now has to lead me back to wherever she came from with the same urgency. At first I was worried something might have happened with Martha, what the maid said didn't really give much clarity, but upon arriving at the main hall I noticed Martha, standing beside a middle aged man and woman, carrying a child, no more than 10 years old. I notice the clear panic and worry on both of their eyes as the man held the boy, who was uncontrollably shaking.
"I know you're not taking any patients yet and I was considering the time, but nobody knows what to do so I..." Martha explains, quite concerned while I ordered the parents to put the child flat on the ground, with me assessing the situation. The first thing I noticed was that the child was burning hot, "possibly febrile seizure? No, too old" I thought. I asked both the parents important details while I ordered the other maid to time the duration of the child's seizure. All the while thinking of possible diseases that may present as such, "Seizure disorder? Epilepsy? Meningitis? Encephalitis?" Eventually the shaking stopped, much to the parents' relief, and I ordered them to carry the boy as we made our way back to the clinic.
"Was this the first time it ever happened?" I inquired, as I put the child on one of the beds in the clinic, securing the corners with additional pillows, noticing the sunken face and apparent exhaustion from the boy, possibly due to the ongoing fever and the recent seizure episode. Once secured, I face the parents and continued my inquiries, I eventually explained everything, elaborating on what I believe happened, I explained that for now, lowering the fever and investigating the source were what we could address, the battery of tests I plan to do (disappointingly, most of them cannot be done here, and I would have to accompany them to a hospital on another town as soon as first light breaks), and the medications and management I plan to give. Everything proceeded as planned and I asked both parents to relax and take a breather, offering them a seat and asking the help to give them water.
Things eventually settled, little Johnny's fever subsided and color came back to him. Nowhere near clear, he can worsen anytime, but that was the best that we could do at that time. The parents were still worried, understandably so, but to an extent reassured, we have a plan after all. Martha, as well as Diane (the help from earlier), now at a calmer state. We discussed the plan, how we would travel, who would accompany us and what we would bring. Eventually, our conversations became relaxed, started to shift to other things, trivial matters, such as were they lived in the village, the date and time of my arrival, recent gossip, where Martha was more than happy to share.
"I was worried the evil spirits might have gotten my baby..." Said the mother nonchalantly, as we talked about the occurrence on a lighter note. "...that's how they got Mrs. Johnson's middle child. That poor boy was never the same after."
I smiled. Not wanting to immediately correct them and sound like an uptight individual. It's part of our culture afterall, old belief systems and a way for people to cope with loss or difficulty, who was I to deny them that. I won't approach these people the hardheaded way, but I will slowly show them the realities and truths of the things they may not understand, well, at least with regards to their health.
"Well, little Johnny is safe here, we'll do what we can" pointing to their son.
Only, their son wasn't where he was supposed to be. I look at the parents, I look at both Martha and Diane, everyone who looked at where I pointed were just as shocked as I was, a split second of silence before panic ensued. Suddenly, everyone stood up on high alert and was looking everywhere. Under covers, under the bed, corners of the room, the desk, behind curtains, hell, I saw Diane look at one of the damn drawers, as if a 10 year old would fit there.
Suddenly I heard loud vomiting, retching, followed by sounds of splashing. I follow where the sounds came from and see a large pool of black, tarry liquid at a corner of my room. I slowly trace where it was coming from and there he was...little Johnny...standing...upside down...on the ceiling.
I hear everyone in the room scream, I was probably screaming too, I couldn't remember. I do remember little Johnny screaming with us though, extremely high pitched and mockingly, with bloodshot eyes, upside down, while black liquid poured from his mouth, covering his face and dripping from his hair. How was that even possible, screaming while liters of unknown fluid dripped from his mouth? I don't know.
Then he laughed, although I was pretty sure that wasn't his voice. It was deep and guttural, it cannot be the boy's voice, it cannot be any boy's voice.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, I was noticing every detail, every expression from everyone's face, I can feel the seconds hand on my wall clock move, the slow dripping of the viscous dark liquid from little Johnny, I can feel every drop of sweat on my body. I could not cope with what i'm experiencing, was it a trick of the mind, an organized prank, have I gone mad...again? So I did the only thing I know how to do...
I tried to diagnose.
"Maybe it was dengue shock all along!" I thought to myself. "Vomiting blood, paleness, fever, an episode of seizure and definitely change in sensorium" I reasoned to myself. I was coping, and I was coping hard. I was ready to drown on my self absorbtion when a booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"YOU DUMB FUCK, WILL ANY ILLNESS EXPLAIN WHY YOUR FUCKING PATIENT IS HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FUCKING CEILING?" Said little Johnny, or at least whoever was speaking on his behalf, because from where I'm standing, I can clearly see that the boy was not mouthing any of the words he said.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, DOCTORS LIKE YOU SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES! HAHAHAHA" he laughed, I never knew laughs could sound like that, as if the words were nails, and his voice box a chalkboard.
"OH WAIT, YOU FAILED AT THAT TOO DOC! FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Of all the things that were happening...a young boy hanging upside down, a mother crying on the floor hysterically, a father staring at his son, eyes wide open and mouth agape, Martha and Diane, both crying while sharing a rosary, in the act of what I assume to be prayer...the thing that snapped me out of my trance was the words that came from little Johnny. Knowledge nobody but the closest to me should know. A secret I planned to leave behind when I left the city, a wound I intended to forget as I started anew.
Visions of my memories came flashing back...medical school...overwhelming duty...familial expectations...failure...depression...my attempt...a bottle of medications...my mother...crying...on my bedside...
"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" Johnny's father screamed. Starling everyone in the room.
Nothing matters, the past is in the past, I am better now, and that boy needs help, more than anything.
"YOUR SON? WHY DON'T WE ASK THAT CRYING WHORE IF JOHNNY REALLY IS YOUR SON" The voice says, laughing.
At that point the mother stops crying, looks up towards johnny, then towards his husband, in a state of shock. Like what the voice said is crazier than whatever was happening at the moment.
"THE ONLY REASON THAT WHORE STUCK WITH YOU WAS BECAUSE JOHNNY'S REAAAAAAAL FATHER WOULD NOT TAKE HER!" The entity says, continuing the hysteric laughter.
We were being played. It was toying with us. And from the look on the mother's face...it seems like little Johnny did not even need to lie to do it.
Then, to everyone's horror..."It" started to run.
It ran across the ceiling in a rabid frenzy, erratic and forceful, running and jumping, hopping sideways then going on all fours, still attached to the ceiling, splashing bile and blood all over the room, all the while making a "hihihi" sound...childish and terrifying. It ran and ran, repeating the same erratic change in movements, repeating the same eerie giggle until it reached the window, stopping and standing straight, it stared outside for what felt like forever...then all of a sudden...johnny just fell, like whatever was attaching him to the ceiling just gave, headfirst into the floor, giving a very audible cracking sound.
I heard a gasp from johnny's mother. I can at least detect some miniscule chest expansion, but that cracking sound cannot be anything good. As if thinking the same thing, Martha, who was the nearest to where Johnny fell, while still clinging tightly to Diane's rosary, approached the boy.
"Johnny?" She said softly, all the while approaching an inch at a time.
As she was almost at arms length of the boy's body, she gives the mother a knowing look, confirming that he was breathing. Martha suddenly produces a piece of cloth from one of the pockets of her uniform, possibly to pack the bleeding from the head. She intended to put the cloth on top of the boy's head, but looked towards my direction, urging me forward, perhaps for me to place it properly. I walk towards the boy, takes the cloth from Martha and as I fold the cloth to circle Johnny's cranium with Martha's help, the boy immediately sat up, looks at Martha and smiles ear to ear...literally ear to ear.
"GET YOUR WRINKLY HANDS OFF ME YOU DUSTY OLD FUCK!" He barks at her, Martha screams in fear and I was taken aback.
That was all the time Johnny needed to stand and jump towards the window, breaking it and running towards the mountainside. I hear his father scream his name, quickly breaking more glass so he could fit, and immediately giving chase. The mother was still on the floor, wailing towards the direction of her child and husband. Martha, in shock, still holding the cloth she intended to wrap johnny with.
It took me a while to notice Diane shaking me vigorously. "Doctor!" She screams. "Doctor Smith! What should we do!?" She voices out, with obvious desperation.
I ignored her.
I feel scared, but taking all into consideration, I predominantly feel tired. Defeated. Insulted.
I have nothing more to give in the face of whatever that thing that took Johnny was.
I slowly walk towards my desk, I open my drawer, I take a piece of paper and I pull out my pen.
Patient #00001a Name redacted 10/M
I write, giving no thoughts to the people on the same room as me, those left behind by little Johnny and his father. "Did he catch up to him? Was the boy alright now?...is his father alright?" I wonder. I'll find out soon enough, I figured, rumors spread like wildfire around here anyways.
I continued to write with resignment, absorbed in my own little world, consumed by the horror I witnessed, the breaking of my spirit, of my beliefs, the questioning of my knowledge. I want to escape it, deny it, but that's not what should be done to the truth. So I surrendered.

1 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

END

Hi, I'm currently attempting to replicate some of the behavior observed in this paper at the 3D level and in CompuCell3D. One of the terms in the energy function is the preferential attachment of cells to elongated cells rather than well-spread cells(equation 3.7 in paper). I was thinking of switching from using the Contact plugin to using the AdhesionFlex plugin but struggling with how to set it up so that it behaves similarly. I had checked previous posts and there was this post that had this same question but I did not see an answer as to how to accomplish the same behavior achieved with Contact plugin.
I have placed below usual XML code I use for the Contact plugin and then XML code for AdhesionFlex plugin for how I'm thinking is how I'll need to convert from the Contact plugin. Within the python Steppables file, I was thinking I'd give a higher "adh_C" molecule density to a cell with an external potential in the x-direction($\lambda_x$) at the Monte Carlo step where it becomes elongated. This will cause higher adhesion between this cell and its neighbors as the cell with an external potential migrates, which should allow for sprouting. Then I'll use the MomentOfInertia plugin to check if other cells have become elongated near the sprout, using a ratio of the max axis to min axis as an elongation index, and then increase their "adh_C" molecule density so that their neighboring cells adhere more to them and the sprout continues to grow.
I'd greatly appreciate any help in switching between these plugins and any more information I need to have a better understanding of how the calculations are done for both plugins.

  Specification of adhesion energies 10.0 5.0 5.0 1.0 1.0 1.0 4   Specification of adhesion energies as a function of cadherin concentration at cell membranes Adhesion energy is a function of two cells in ocntact. the functional form is specified by the user          Molecule1*Molecule2   1.0 5.0 10.0    4  

CompuCell3d Revision="6" Version="4.4.1"
Platform: Windows

I'm sorry but this is so aggravating as a Doordash driver and makes me avoid Five Guys at all costs. Yes I know fries are better hot, but how does it make sense letting the burger sit there for 3-5 minutes getting cold while cooking the fries? Then you put steaming hot fries in a paper bag which turns wet, I've almost had everything fall out the bottom multiple times. Corporate is so stupid for forcing stores to delay orders like this.

Fuzzy expressions, articles that don’t make sense and obscure teachers 🥲 . In the IB there isnt a more elusive subject to score a 7 in than among English (maybe Physics!). As a student I never scored above 14 on my papers and tbh I just never really took English lessons seriously (if* I’ve spoken it all my life so I should be good right?)*. I’m sure you can also relate that the subject also just felt really fluffy and to me; unlike sciences or maths with a detailed syllabus and clear way to progress.
Until one perspective shift transformed my English grades, allowing me to eventually score 19/20 in my final exams:
In Biology, you don’t get marks for describing the lungs as the “breathing organ”, you need to use the actual terminology “lungs”. Along with that, you also need to understand its function, how it relates to the rest of the body, etc.
This is how you progress in IB English, through an effective mastering of the Literary Devices. These are the incremental building blocks, the ammunition you use to attack whatever random unseen text they throw at you in the exam. Similar to studying the lungs in biology, you must learn to Recognise, Explain, Link and Draw implications of using different literary devices in different contexts. How does it reveal authorial choices, and why it is effective for that specific issue being conveyed? This extends to both the IO and Paper 2 aspects as well!
I promise that if you focus more on HOW a text is written (authorial choices) more than WHAT it is about (only the messages), you will see your writing improve dramatically from poor retelling essays to analytical and insightful arguments.
TLDR;
If you feel stuck or unable to progress in IB English, change your approach from just understanding the text for what it is into actually explaining WHY and HOW it is written, using the literary techniques as your building blocks for arguments.
P.S. If you'd like to know more in how I achieved these results in IB, message me for more info or visit my website ibmentors.com!
Scoring 19/20 English Paper 1 and a 45

I was always content but not thrilled with Starfield. I loved the aesthetic and vibe, and I liked the idea of the overall story (Jules Verne's Star Trek, explore the stars to find adventure, mystery, and to leave the universe a better place than you found it), but I was let down by quests that were less interesting than I hoped and a gameplay loop that often boiled down to "run here, shoot all guys, win".
But the new gameplay options changed way more than I thought. A few examples include:

• damage modifiers make encounters far more interesting because both me and the enemies are less spongy, so positioning and strategy matters way more
• weighted ammo means I actually need to pre-plan my loadout when I go into an encounter, I can't just use any weapon I find
• afflictions force me to use my medical items I barely ever touched in vanilla
• environmental damage means I can't just wear my spacesuit with the highest stats, I need to think carefully about what protections I want to optimize for
• increased food healing + hunger and thirst make food items not useless to have anymore
• all of this combined made me care way more about crafting weapon mods, armor mods, medicine, and food, things I barely did in the base game
• but since it's such a pain to head to a city every time I need these, I decided to build these crafting stations on my ship itself using the new ship decorating system
• but I didn't have enough rescources to make these so I needed to go and grind for rescources, which I never did before
• when on these planets, the new maps made everything feel way less barren and my choices about where to go to look for these materials more informed (why did Bethesda make the landing zones so barren all the time? It gets way more interesting when you move farther out, but because you cant see what's there, you never have a reason to go)
• since I am dogshit at space combat, I can finally adjust that to a difficulty I can handle without making ground combat too easy, so I spend more time in space not running from fights
• now that I'm spending more time on my ship and not just fast traveling to/from objectives, it feels more like my "home", so I care more about who can be on it as a companion and how it's decorated

Suddenly, I'm considering building my first outpost to automate getting the rescources I need to keep my research going and medical updates intact. I'm actually collecting rescources and storing it my ship for when I need it. I'm searching POIs for more than just med kits. I want to invest in my ship to make it feel more like a home. I'm trying to find ways to avoid combat as much as possible.
The next thing I want to try is to turn off auto-save and only save when I'm on my ship or in a city. I want to make each fight feel more impactful and dangerous, plus help mechanically fulfill that "Jules Verne Star Trek" fantasy where every adventure begins and ends on my ship with my crew, as we flesh it out and make it feel more "homely" with notable items and memorabilia we take from our quests.
If your initial reaction to the game was like mine, I encourage you to give it a try with the new options on. The list of items feels small on paper, but they combine in just the right way to make it feel like an entirely new game has just opened up for me within the old one I thought I'd been playing.

Welcome back once more, for our final discussion of Armadale. I apologize again for the discussion being late. Last week, my excuse was that I had to spend time with my sister's family, including a labradoodle. This week, I am dog-sitting my mother's beagle, who has separation anxiety and gas. I am horribly sleep-deprived because this dog insists on sleeping next to my bed every night, snoring loudly and farting. Speaking of people breathing in poison in their sleep, let's get to the recap:
Allan has just set off for the Adriatic, with his cash converted to gold, obviously the result of Manuel's suggestions. Lydia and Ozias have been transferred to Turin by Ozias's employer, and Lydia pretends to have gotten a letter from her mother, asking her to come home, so she has an excuse to go back to London. Once there, she checks the newspaper for any articles or obituaries indicating that Allan has died. She also finds Mother Oldershaw's new address, but decides not to visit her.
After a few days, she finally gets the news she's been hoping for. Allan's yacht sunk off the southern coast of Italy, and everyone on board perished. Her next step is to write to Bashwood:
My dearest Bashwood,
I desire you... I mean, I desire to *meet with you... to apologize for my previous behavior towards you. I have foolishly made the mistake of marrying an immature child. If only I had married a real man (realness not necessarily extending to his teeth and hair)!*
Please, do not show this letter to anyone. Let us meet clandestinely.
Sincerely,
Lydia Armadale (note the last name)
Lydia then considers the marriage certificate, and realizes a glaring flaw in her plan: Ozias's handwriting looks nothing like Allan's. In a panic, she decides that her only option is to get advice from Mother Oldershaw. Unfortunately, Mother Oldershaw appears to have found God, and no longer wants anything to do with Lydia's plans. (Of course, she refuses to give Lydia the signed paper that she was going to use to extort money from Lydia if her plans succeeded.)
While leaving Oldershaw's, Lydia runs into Dr. Downward... excuse me, Dr. Le Doux, totally legitimate sanitarium owner. She realizes that he may be able to advise her, and asks to meet him later at the sanitarium. The sanitarium is basically what you'd expect a 19th-century sanitarium to be: creepy old house with shelves containing jars of preserved "creatures," a "galvanic apparatus" for providing electric shocks, etc. No patients yet, though.
Lydia tells the doctor her story, leaving out the worst details (he doesn't know that she's the reason the yacht sunk, or that her husband goes by the fake name "Ozias Midwinter"). Downward agrees to assist her by claiming to be a witness to the marriage... for a fee of six hundred pounds. Lydia agrees, and he assists her in sending a letter to Thorpe Ambrose, claiming to be Allan's widow.
The next day, Lydia gets a visit from Bashwood, who delivers the news that Neelie is beside herself with grief, and Mr. Darch is handling the matter of the inheritance, which was going to go to Allan's cousin, before Lydia announced her claim.
Bashwood returns a few days later with a shocking letter from Yugoslavia: Allan is alive! This is where I'd normally try to write a funny version of the letter, but nothing I could possibly write would be funnier than the actual letter's opening line: "I have been the victim of a rascally attempt at robbery and murder." Yes, "rascally." Oh, Allan, never change. One of the would-be murderers took pity on Allan and didn't securely board up his cabin, so he was able to escape instead of sinking with the yacht.
Lydia turns to Downward for help.
Downward: What if we trap Allan in the sanitarium?
Lydia: And murder him?
Downward: WTF, no. We get him to agree to not press legal charges against us.
Lydia: And then we murder him?
Downward: I have so many regrets about teaming up with you
Lydia: How do we catch him?
Downward: You could get Bashwood to lurk around the train station and intercept him before anyone else sees him. Have him tell Allan that Miss Milroy was sent here because she was driven insane by her grief for him.
Lydia: Can we murder Allan and Miss Milroy?
Downward: I am running an unlicensed sanitarium under a false name, and even I think you're unhinged.
Lydia: Gwilty as charged
Downward: But wait, what if he doesn't agree immediately, and we have to keep him here for months? What if I have actual patients at the time, and they report us?
Lydia: What if...
Downward: ...please don't say "murder"
Lydia: ...what if he had an accident?
Downward: Oh. Well, if it was an "accident," that would be okay. I don't know how an accident could happen, though, if you aren't an inmate here.
Lydia: I'll think about it
Meanwhile, Bashwood keeps vigil at the train station, until one day he sees... Ozias, who is searching for Lydia because she's stopped writing to him. While they talk to each other, Bashwood can't contain his shock at hearing that Lydia is Ozias's wife, and accidentally calls her "Mrs. Armadale," which understandably makes Ozias suspicious, so he follows Bashwood to see where he goes, which of course leads him straight to Lydia. Lydia pretends she was never married to Ozias, and Ozias faints from the shock.
Lydia heads straight to the sanitarium, tells Downward she's going to be an inmate, and asks for a sleeping draught. Downward prepares the draught, but first places yellow liquid in a purple flask. He then informs Lydia of what he thinks they should say at the inquest after Allan dies: The two of them knew he hadn't drowned, but when he arrived in England, they decided to trap him in the sanitarium because, shortly after his marriage to Lydia, Allan had starting having a delusion that he was engaged to Neelie. Once in the sanitarium, Downward diagnosed Allan with an incurable and fatal brain ailment, and that's what killed him.
Downward has scheduled a "Visitors' Day" so that people will witness Lydia as an inmate in the asylum. The visitors are mostly women, because life as a woman in Victorian England was so boring, they had nothing better to do than go to sanitariums to gawk at the mentally ill people and see where they will eventually live when the hysteria finally drives them mad. (I am only barely paraphrasing. The actual quote is "In the miserable monotony of the lives led by a large section of the middle classes of England, anything is welcome to the women which offers them any sort of harmless refuge from the established tyranny of the principle that all human happiness begins and ends at home.")
Downward shows them around the sanitarium and explains how it will be run, including only allowing novels that make people feel comfortable. (I assumed this was an intentional satire of Wilkie's critics, and the notes in the Oxford World's Classics edition confirmed this.)
But then Downward gave a sales pitch that damn near sold me on his sanitarium. "I throw up impregnable moral intrenchments between Worry and You. ... Will ten minutes’ irritation from a barking dog or a screeching child undo every atom of good done to a nervous sufferer by a month’s medical treatment? There isn’t a competent doctor in England who will venture to deny it!" Considering I almost couldn't post last week's discussion because of a few hours' exposure to two loud children and a labradoodle, I'm about ready to self-diagnose with hysteria and deranged lunacy.
He also explains that while the bedrooms lack fireplaces, they're heated with hot water. This impressed me because I've read about Victorian insane asylums not having fireplaces in the bedrooms (since the inmates might burn themselves), but I always assumed this meant that the inmates were cold in the winter. But wait... the bedroom also has secret controls that let him open, close, and lock the window and door from the outside, and a vent that lets him pump gas into the room. Whaaat? I rescind my diagnosis of hysteria and deranged lunacy. I want nothing to do with this.
After the tour is finished, Downward demonstrates to Lydia how to prepare the poison, and then breaks the bottle so that his assistant (who doesn't know about the purple flask) will think there's no more of that chemical in the house.
Meanwhile, Ozias is stalking Bashwood at the train station. He thinks Lydia is cheating on him, and Bashwood is waiting for Lydia's lover. But then he sees Bashwood with Allan. After confronting the two of them, he learns Bashwood's story about having to take Allan to Neelie in the sanitarium. Realizing that Lydia is probably still behind Bashwood's actions, Ozias insists on going with the two of them. On arriving at the sanitarium, Allan is informed that Neelie cannot see him until the morning, but he and Ozias are welcome to spend the night: Allan in Room Four, and Ozias in Room Three.
Lydia sets Bashwood up to spy on Allan's door from a room with a grate in its door. She tells him to make sure Allan stays in his room all night. Later, watching from the grate, Bashwood observes Ozias leave his room and examine the fumigating apparatus connected to Allan's room. Then Ozias stuffs his handkerchief in the grate, blocking Bashwood's view, before going into Allan's room and convincing Allan to switch rooms with him.
Later that night, Lydia returns and asks Bashwood if anything happened. Too afraid to tell her about the handkerchief, he tells her nothing happened, and she dismisses him to bed. After almost convincing herself to not go through with it, she then starts the process of pouring the poison at five minute intervals. While waiting for one of the intervals to pass, she notices Ozias's handkerchief and realizes that Bashwood lied to her. She checks in Room Three, and finds Allan asleep where Ozias should be.
In a panic, Lydia rushes into Room Four and drags the unconscious Ozias out. She then continues to pour the poison, writes a last letter to Ozias, and locks herself in the room.
We end with an epilogue that rapidly ties up all the random loose ends. Lydia has been buried in a nearly unmarked grave. The doctor is apparently still running his sanitarium. Allan and Neelie will be married in the spring. Mrs. Milroy doesn't have much longer to live, but she's undergone a personality change for some reason and she and the Major are happy for once. Ozias is recovering and living with Allan. Mother Oldershaw is a religious speaker, apparently. Bashwood has gone insane. Manuel drowned.
But wait, one last thing: Wilkie has something to say to us. He wants us to know that he intended the dream to be left up to interpretation. Thanks for handing me a discussion question like that, Wilkie. He also shares a weird-ass story about how, after he'd finished the rough draft and while the story was in the middle of serialization, several people were poisoned in their sleep on a boat called The Armadale. Okay, Wilkie. Thank you for that incredibly weird anecdote.

Forgive me if this question should be asked elsewhere but I could really use some advice.
I’ve been a journalist full time at the same company in Huntsville, Alabama for the last 3 years. I started out at my university newspaper in 2013 before graduating and moving to New Orleans where I wasn’t able to book work consistently enough to truly say, “I’ve been a journalist for the past decade.” There was a 1-2 year period where I thought I didn’t have what it took.
My current situation has been very satisfying from the beginning. My boss owns a magazine and a business journal focused on Huntsville and the surrounding area. Most of the assignments have been limited in the amount of exposure you could ever expect as with most other community based journalism but Huntsville is also home to NASA and Redstone Arsenal. It requires more effort a long with putting yourself out there much more consistently, but any determined journalist can find stories locally that will generate readers far beyond the city and state lines.
In August of 2023, I had an instance where my luck and determination peaked at the same time when I was able to track down the son of a former Chinese immigrant turned Huntsville scientist, Dr. Ning Li. She wasn’t famous, not even among most Huntsville residents, but in the early 2000’s she had a run of published papers that made her extremely well known in the science community and even resulted in publications like Wired running multi page spreads about her work on anti gravity technology. I’m going to be REALLY short here but she seemingly disappeared after leaving UAH to start her own company for her research in 2002. Records show initial funding from DoD but the paper trail ends there and she never had a public appearance again.
Eventually this “disappearance” was noticed and some reporters were asking about her publicly at the time, but no sure fire answers ever came. This, along with some public rumors of her defecting back to China with US secrets, eventually resulted in a large community of people who were still asking for answers 20 years later in the form of YouTube videos (Barely Sociable had a big one with 2+ million views) or various science / conspiracy based websites. It only grew as more people started making claims that a lot of the UAP reports being publicized described technology that seemed to resemble her initial theory that gained promise.
I was able to track down her adult son’s phone number. After a series of phone calls over the next month, I gained his trust and was invited to his home where he was able to give me all of the answers except ones about the success of her research on her top secret work funded by the DoD. He didn’t know if she was ever proven right or wrong because she worked at the Arsenal every day until the day she was struck by a car driven by a student on UAH campus. She suffered a TBI that immediately rendered her as if she had late stage Alzheimer’s. Never spoke again and he cared for her around the clock until she died 6 years later.
He was unable to learn anything further about her work, but he gave me a lot of information that wasn’t known at the time and I was able to fully disprove any rumor of her turning traitor to the US for a return to China.
I published the story and it did really well in mid-late 2023 amongst the crowd who already knew of her obviously and the regular Huntsville readers of ours found her life story very interesting. It was immediately the most successful story of my career as other reporters were making stories about the fact that I was able to solve her mystery. It died down like I figured until 4-6 weeks ago.
The UAP disclosure hype has resulted in more people talking about her than ever before. I’m hearing my name and seeing my picture on videos with over 1 million views for the first time ever.
I was very happy but didn’t think it changed much for me because it’s not like it could grow more realistically. Until Joe fucking Rogan reads pretty much the whole story and talks about it for 5-10 minutes on the podcast with largest following in the world.
My excitement turned to disbelief that day and it’s still crazy to think about sometimes. I never realistically thought I would write something that would generate traffic numbers around 5-6 million readers on a single story. That number is over course of 8 months which is very far removed getting those same numbers in the span of a week but the increase in exposure has been noticeable in my inbox ever since the Rogan podcast.
Noticeable enough that it feels like I’m very possibly having a moment before it’s just a moment before THE moment if that makes sense.
I haven’t had any career advancing job offers but there’s been some who have reached out in support to suggest various story topics that run parallel to that story as follow up ideas. Maybe I’m overestimating here but I feel like if I capitalize on my recent success correctly, I could see my career advance a step farther than I thought was possible for the year of 2024 when it started.
But…. I’m not at all sure how of the specific road map that could achieve such a thing. Yeah, I proved I can put together a story that results in traffic from both readers and “cultural trendsetters” but only once.
If anyone has ever been in a similar position, I would love some advice on the best way to turn this exposure into interest from publishers 1 step up the totem pole from where I am now. That also applies to people who haven’t been in this position, the more feedback I can get, the more prepared I feel I can be.
Sorry this post has been so long, it’s just been heavy on my mind for the last 1-2 weeks and I needed to hear from people who are both A: familiar with the industry and B: Not my boss.

So we have a 4-month-old puppy in the house. One problem is that she isn't potty trained. I kind of blame my parents, though it's kind of my fault too. I am a full time college student, so I am not home most of the time. So I didn't take the puppy out when it would've been prime time to train her. Neither did my parents, not even my mother who stays home most of the day. Now they take her out once or twice or just leave her out expecting her to learn that way.
Their behavior towards her accidents in the house has become more and more troubling to me. Especially my father, he would loudly swear at her get angry while stomping aggressively towards her. Today he picked her up by the scruff. Showed her the puddle of urine, and hit her lightly, but then she whined. This wasn't the first time this had happened either. Whenever I express the slightest displeasure at this behavior, I get berated and made fun of. They said things like "how dare you gives us dirty looks!" "stop being so dramatic!" "You should've seen what my father did to train his dogs! (they way they talk about the older generations makes me despise them. especially the men, yet they claim things were better 'back then' and don't seem to understand the concept of abusive cycles.)". They get very angry at me for my discomfort and claim they are just training the poor pup. Cleary it doesn't work, hell there is papers stating this doesn't work.
I can't remember properly(my brain has this thing where it tries to scrub things that make me feel greatly uncomfortable and distressed from my brain and only leaves me with bits and pieces of the memory that feel hazy), but I think they did the same thing with the other dog we have until they discovered that this was causing her to have more accidents in the house. The best I can do is try to actually train her over the summer while I have more time, but that will take months until that fully becomes effective. It hurts me I don't feel like I can do more.
I feel conflicted about my parents because part of me does love them, but they have parts of them that they refuse to change that I feel deeply disgusted by. I can't imagine lifting my hand against an animal out of frustration, especially one so small.

I have two weddings coming up about a month apart in Europe this August, and, considering I'm on the west coast of the US and work remotely, it made pretty good sense to just stay between them rather than flying back and forth. The catch is I will have to at least attempt to work for two of those weeks. This will maybe only include a few meetings here and there, but mostly a lot of writing that can be done offline, so I don't need the fastest, most reliable WiFi.
I will be leaving Barcelona on the 10th or 11th of August and I need to be in Copenhagen by September 1. I like beaches, mountains, and some charming cities in between, and I'm definitely not on a Western Europe in August kind of budget. My initial thought was I'd spend about a week and half working in Albania. One full work week at a beach town (was thinking Himare) where I could just lay on the beach all morning and work late afternoon/night, and then another 3-4 days in the Albanian Alps (probably just Theth) where I could hike in the mornings and come back and get a little work done at night.
After Albania, I figured I'd start heading north and spend ~10 days in Slovenia (a few days in Ljubljana and then Lake Bled or other nice nature-y spots). From there I could maybe bus or train to Vienna and then a quick flight to Copenhagen.
On paper, this sounded great, but when I actually got into looking at my transportation options it seemed a little harder. My biggest concern is the time it takes to get from the Albanian coast to Theth and then getting from Theth to Ljubljana. It seems that there are no flights from Podgorica, Montenegro direct to Ljubljana so that would mean backtracking to Tirana, although it doesn't seem like there are direct flights from there either.
I had my heart a bit set on Albania and Slovenia, but I'm curious if anyone has any suggestions on how I could make this itinerary work OR other itineraries that include some beaches and mountains where I could stay put for ~4-5 days at a time to actually get a bit of work done in the evenings. Because I'm on a budget and I'm aware that August is probably the most hectic time to be anywhere in Europe, I was looking to avoid the typical hotspots in Croatia which is why I settled on Albania and Slovenia.
TLDR;

• Does 2.5-3 weeks in Albania and Slovenia feel insane, especially if I'm trying to slow down and do a little bit of work?
• If you had three weeks in Europe during August, where would you go?
• Any other slightly off the beaten track places that seem to fit the bill of cheap, beaches, mountains, and charming cities?

Thanks!

French Silk Cake Roll is a decadent dessert that combines the rich creaminess of French silk pie filling with a light and fluffy cake roll. It’s a stunning dessert that’s perfect for special occasions or whenever you’re craving something indulgent. Here’s how to make it:
Ingredients:
For the Chocolate Cake:
4 large eggs, separated 3/4 cup granulated sugar, divided 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder 1/4 cup all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon salt For the French Silk Filling:
1 cup unsalted butter, softened 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled 1 teaspoon vanilla extract For Garnish:
Whipped cream Chocolate shavings or cocoa powder Instructions:
Preheat the Oven and Prepare the Pan: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 15×10-inch jelly roll pan and line it with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on the long sides for easy removal. Make the Chocolate Cake: In a large mixing bowl, beat the egg yolks with 1/2 cup of granulated sugar until thick and pale. Stir in the vanilla extract. In a separate bowl, sift together the cocoa powder, flour, and salt. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the egg yolk mixture, mixing until well combined. Beat Egg Whites: In another clean mixing bowl, beat the egg whites with the remaining 1/4 cup of granulated sugar until stiff peaks form. Fold Ingredients Together: Gently fold the beaten egg whites into the chocolate mixture until no streaks remain. Be careful not to deflate the egg whites. Spread Batter: Spread the batter evenly into the prepared jelly roll pan, smoothing the top with a spatula. Bake in the preheated oven for 12-15 minutes, or until the cake springs back when lightly touched. Roll the Cake: While the cake is still warm, loosen the edges with a knife and invert it onto a clean kitchen towel dusted with powdered sugar. Carefully remove the parchment paper. Starting from one of the short sides, roll the cake and towel together into a tight spiral. Place it seam side down on a wire rack to cool completely. Make the French Silk Filling: In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter and powdered sugar until light and fluffy. Gradually add the melted and cooled chocolate, beating until smooth and creamy. Stir in the vanilla extract until well combined. Unroll the Cake: Carefully unroll the cooled cake from the towel. Spread the French silk filling evenly over the cake, leaving a small border around the edges. Roll the Cake: Roll the cake back up, starting from the same short side, without the towel this time. Use the parchment paper to help lift and guide the cake as you roll it. Place it seam side down on a serving platter. Chill and Garnish: Chill the cake roll in the refrigerator for at least 1-2 hours to set the filling. Before serving, garnish with whipped cream and chocolate shavings or a dusting of cocoa powder. Slice and Serve: Use a sharp knife to slice the cake roll into servings. Serve and enjoy the rich and creamy French silk filling wrapped in a light and fluffy chocolate cake! Tips:
Make sure the melted chocolate is cooled to room temperature before adding it to the butter and sugar mixture to prevent it from seizing. Be gentle when rolling and unrolling the cake to avoid cracking. For added flavor, you can add a splash of rum or coffee liqueur to the French silk filling. Store any leftovers in the refrigerator, tightly covered, for up to 3-4 days. Conclusion: French Silk Cake Roll is an elegant and indulgent dessert that’s sure to impress your guests. With its velvety French silk filling and light and fluffy chocolate cake, it’s a delightful treat for any occasion. Enjoy the luxurious flavors of this exquisite dessert!

[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous ]

Saturday morning a Woman enters the store immediately after the doors are unlocked, I haven't even finished printing out & sorting my order tickets for the day. "How can I help ma'am?" She tells me she has wants to get something printed on cardstock, and she has a release code. "Oh, so if you have a release code I can set you up on one of our self-serve machines but that will come out on regular printer paper. I'd have to run it as an express order behind the counter if you wanted it on something special like index paper." She tells me 'this is always how she does it', and I don't even bother asking her to send it to the print.marketing email. "Give me the release code and I can pull it up for you and have it out in a few minutes ma'am". She does, I enter the code, download the images she wants, and print them out for her. Theyre the wrong size, she wants them 5x7. I leave those on the counter and run them again at the right size. She snatches the new ones, as well as the old ones and throws them in a bag, and I print her order ticket and go to check her out. "Looks like it's gonna be $x.xx for the 4 color prints on cardstock, are you paying with cash or card today?" She looks at the card terminal, dumbfounded, and asks me disgustedly what the $2.xx express charge is. "That's just for getting the order to you within the hour." I am becoming less convinced by the minute that she 'does this all the time'. She's furious that I 'didn't tell her about the charge beforehand', and demands I take it off. "I can set this up as a regular non-express order, and get it to you by 4PM today ma'am." She insists that I take the charge off and check her out, and when I tell her I can't do that she tells me she'll be seeing my manager, but doesn't move. I won't have my print supervisor in until noon, so I call for MOD on the radio. While I wait for him to arrive I set up another ticket for pickup at 4PM (and so without the express charge). MOD arrives, he escorts the furious customer away with my new ticket, and that's that. He tells me a bit later over the radio to 'not worry about it', and then I'm let out early at 1:30PM on the account that they're trying to cut down hours for the weekend. Jokes on them though cause I just remembered I didn't cancel that 4PM ticket so they probably printed it out and ran the order anyways and maybe even called her once it was done lmao.
I put my two weeks in last Sunday, I know it's in my contract that I can quit (or be fired) on the spot and without notice, but out of respect for my colleagues in P&M (who have been entirely friendly and helpful for my short time working here) I didn't want to leave one or all of them to pick up my slack. My store is understaffed and the print & marketing (& happy/express returns & ipostal & ups/usps dropoff) department is never not busy. I make less putting together orders worth upwards of hundreds of dollars than if I started working at my local Wawa making $4 hoagies (No disrespect intended to the heroes in the trenches at Wawa). I love working in print & media, and I'm optimistic that my experience here will help me get a job at a local print shop or something akin this summer, but as it stands I cannot keep working at this home office store that tries (and fails miserably) to be so much more than it is. Good luck to the rest of you still out there on the front lines.
EDIT: Can't remember how much 4 color prints on cardstock ran her but I know the express charge wasn't more than $3

Gingerbread Cake with Salted Caramel Buttercream is a delightful dessert that combines the warm, spicy flavors of gingerbread with the rich sweetness of salted caramel. It’s a perfect treat for the holiday season or any time you’re craving a cozy and indulgent dessert. Here’s how to make it:
Ingredients:
For the Gingerbread Cake:
2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon ground ginger 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened 1/2 cup granulated sugar 1/2 cup molasses 2 large eggs 1 cup buttermilk For the Salted Caramel Buttercream:
1 cup unsalted butter, softened 2 cups powdered sugar 1/2 cup salted caramel sauce (store-bought or homemade) 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Pinch of salt Instructions:
Preheat the Oven: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans or line them with parchment paper for easy removal. Make the Gingerbread Cake: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, ground ginger, cinnamon, and cloves until well combined. Cream Butter and Sugar: In a large mixing bowl, cream together the softened butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add Molasses and Eggs: Beat in the molasses until well combined. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Alternate Dry Ingredients and Buttermilk: Gradually add the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture, alternating with the buttermilk. Begin and end with the dry ingredients, mixing until just combined after each addition. Divide and Bake: Divide the batter evenly between the prepared cake pans. Smooth the tops with a spatula. Bake in the preheated oven for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cakes comes out clean. Cool the Cakes: Remove the cakes from the oven and let them cool in the pans for 10 minutes. Then, transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely. Make the Salted Caramel Buttercream: In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter until creamy. Gradually add the powdered sugar, beating until smooth and fluffy. Beat in the salted caramel sauce, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt until well combined and creamy. Assemble the Cake: Once the cakes are completely cooled, place one cake layer on a serving plate or cake stand. Spread a layer of salted caramel buttercream evenly over the top. Place the second cake layer on top and frost the top and sides of the cake with the remaining buttercream. Decorate (Optional): Drizzle additional salted caramel sauce over the top of the cake for a decorative touch. You can also garnish with gingerbread cookies or a sprinkle of ground cinnamon if desired. Slice and Serve: Use a sharp knife to slice the cake into servings. Serve and enjoy the rich and flavorful combination of gingerbread and salted caramel! Tips:
To ensure a tender and moist cake, be careful not to overmix the batter once the dry ingredients are added. If you prefer a stronger ginger flavor, you can increase the amount of ground ginger in the cake batter. For a more pronounced salted caramel flavor, you can add additional salted caramel sauce to the buttercream frosting. Store any leftover cake in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3-4 days. Conclusion: Gingerbread Cake with Salted Caramel Buttercream is a deliciously festive dessert that’s perfect for the holiday season or any special occasion. With its moist and flavorful gingerbread cake layers paired with creamy salted caramel buttercream, it’s sure to be a crowd-pleaser. Enjoy the comforting and indulgent flavors of this delightful cake!

It's fascinating to see how Kasumi/Sumire ended up being a divisive character among Persona 5 fans, at least from my impression. One one hand, she has her dedicated fans who call her "best girl". On the other hand, I've seen players who outright dislike her and don't think she's a welcome addition to Royal. From where I stand, I still personally like the character despite being about 6/10 to me in terms of writing. It's honestly carried by her backstory and the idea of her character arc. But I think she's missing some of the key ingredients to turn from a serviceable character to a good character who lives up to how she's marketed as the poster re-release waifu of P5 Royal.
I think her first 5 ranks of her confidant as Kasumi could have had more stakes to it to make them more interesting so that it didn't take 100 hours in the game to become a "she exists" to a serviceable character. I get that she's supposed to serve as a taste of what Maruki's plan is like and foreshadows the twist of her character, but why stop there? At least give a reason why we should to feel bad about her slump. Maybe make it that she is pressured by her mom who has high expectations of her and kept comparing her to her dead sister who is apparently very good and one of the confidant events have her stand up against her making it in line with Persona 5's themes. And what Sumi (as Sumire) badly needs is more meaningful interactions with the party members other than Ren/Akira/Jonkler. I understand not being very close friends with all of them, but why doesn't she have any banter with Yusuke and Futaba? Given that Sumi and Futaba have similar backstories about blaming themselves for a loved one's death and being around the same age, I think they would relate to each other at least to some degree. As for Yusuke, I think it would be interesting for them to talk about their slumps in their careers and I could picture him admiring Sumire's gymnastics moves and see them as art. That way, he would also support and help Sumire to overcome her inferiority complex about being not as good as Kasumi. And have the PT watch her gymnastics performance in her rank 10 confidant so that it seemed like they are there to support her and in a way, she's integrated well in the main cast.
Anf that's my two cents. I also think she should have joined the PT around Shido's palace and lessen her time in gymnastics. But that would make changes in Persona 5's story which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I don't feel like going on to write a thesis paper to explain the changes.

I'm a young man, raised religious, and married to my best friend for a few years. I have struggled with porn/masturbation addiction on and off throughout the years (usually as a way to cope with on/off depression). I have had stints where I didn't partake, once when I was with a girlfriend I had in/post college of 3 years where we were very sexually compatible and once when I was single and recommitting my life to our higher diety.
When I met my current parter, we we're both practicing celibacy and had committed to being better in our religious practice. we were also leaders in church and had a lot in common. Our mutual interests brought us together and made us very close. I think I was very much overjoyed to find a partner who was someone I felt connected to that would fit well into my family and the life I aspired to have religiously. she was morally a good person, and a good friend, liked to have fun, and I was attracted to her. we did our best to hold to the celibacy but we ended up doing hand stuff basically ahead of marriage. Admist that we'd grow closer and i eventually proposed because we'd been talking about it and I was convinced it was something i wanted. Just around the proposal time I'd resumed using porn, with the pandemic hitting I basically had to make a lot of sacrifices to be with our families and move away from where we lived and put some of my career aspirations on pause (my main passion is art and I actively work to grow a career in that along side my 9-5, with some momentum building and success, and I take my daily practice very seriously).
We talked a lot about the art and how it could potentially interfare with my attention/love for her. I assured her that I'm not overly consumed by my dreams to the point that I wouldn't chose her over my dreams and that'd while i have to take my goals seriously I was always going to also make her a priority. I proved that through the move, and putting a lot of my work on pause for her and happily spending time with her and the family. Admittedly it was easy because the whole world was on pause. In this time period in moments when I'd be alone I'd sneak in moments of gratification with pornography - and thoughts about the partner i had in/post college would come back in my mind. That girl was one that was very different from my current partner in terms of interests - on paper we would've wanted to lead very different lives and had different interests... but the sex was so good. We constantly had sex and really enjoyed it. Even when we broke up we tried to discuss some sort of path forward and casual sex was on the table and we openly admitted how much we enjoyed each other. She was a good friend, but couldn't really be my best friend because our interests were just so far apart. I still find myself thinking about her today and I would think about her every year since i broke up with her (well before I met my current partner) and I still do...
this previous partner had broken up with me because she didn't see a path where I was intending on being with her long term marriage wise - like we'd never even discussed it after 3.5 years of being together and we both had big career decisions ahead of us that would've required a solid foundation. Long story short I stopped communicating with her after that break up as I thought it best since it hurt my pride but also woke me up that I didn't love her enough to marry her.
fast forward to my wedding day and my partner and i, after upholding our celibacy mostly, we had sex and I didn't enjoy and she didn't either. she's smaller than my previous partner, and while I do try to be gentle in my approach because i really do love having sex and pleasing my partners, it took a while and a lot of different medical aides for her to be able to enjoy sex with me. additionally, the sex just didn't feel gratifying to me the first time we had it, and while it has improved from time to time, after three years I still am left wishing we were more sexually compatible.. i don't have the same enthusiam I did with my in/post college partner.. I'd had other partners aside from this college partner but i often think back to being with the person and how good the sex was.
I know the dissatisfaction in our day-to-day isn't only on my side. She's expressed to me how she isn't getting "enough of me". My depression has only gotten worse in marriage, things that i feel have triggered it outside of the already described dillemma are having to deal with working a 9-5 I don't enjoy while trying my best to grow my art practice into a career of it's own. It takes work, dillegence, focus, and daily practice. But my partner doesn't seem to really understand what it takes. At first she'd be upset that i wasn't willing to spend time with her every day like I do my art. so i began to make sure we had tv time, went out for food, movies, i'd never miss a hangout she wanted me to accompany her to when her friends want to double date. I'd arrange hangouts. She expressed interest in finding her own art passion so I guided her through it, and tried ot show her how valuable having something for yourself to get lost in and do daily can be. She became a bit more understanding after finding her own new passion. But because my depression has gotten worse, and I'm not enjoying our intimacy time, she complains that she still feels mostly distant from me - and I always try to make changes to help. She has been trying to suggest maybe I'm striving too hard in my craft because "clearly I'm still unhappy" and suggests that there's more to life. We got a cat, I've tried to ease up, spend more time with them, clean around the house more, go on long vacations where it's just the two of us. She has always said her passion and goal is to travel more. I think it's a cool idea but I'm also considering the cost, and time, when every day counts toward my craft.. and I feel like I have to walk on eggshells if I tell her "hey i'm going to go to the cafe and work on art by myself" or "can we just have some downtime to work on art" because every day is filled with exploration and activities and it's exhausting.. We had this one event where an artist i was excited for was supposed to perform - but because we're abroad we didn't know that clubs in the area closed super late, and she wasn't feeling the event and wanted to go home, I wanted so badly to stay and just enjoy the whole night and was really bummed we had to go... I just feel this tension like I can't enjoy/explore life and my art the way I want to with her around... I always feel like I'm looking for every opportunity to escape to be free and be myself... and all I want to do just be alone.. which is why I'm writing here.
I am really unsure what to do.. we don't have kids but we talk about it a lot just to make sure it's something we want to do. I absolutely don't want to get in too deep with this.. I really do love her and if the sex was better (because it seems to be really important to my head person (my brain)) I think I'd be a bit more motivated but I'm just not happy unless I'm either fully exploring enjoying my craft and/or sexually satisfied. I feel like i'm feeding my void with more porn and it's actually making me more depressed and holding me back... but I don't feel like my partner is helping right now either.. We've had rounds of counseling, and are always trying to have sex and I make sure I please her and myself every time, she tries too, but it just hasn't been enough for me.

I work in the archives at my university and we just deacessioned this book that we decided was not technically rare that was taking up space in our collections. My boss said I could keep it after we processed it. The author is Constantine George Rickards and it's called The Ruins of Mexico. The publisher info for this particular copy is listed as follows on the title page:
London, W. / H. E. Shrimpton, / 105, Regent Street. / 1910.
I cannot find a single biography on this author anywhere. All I know is the info he gave in the book's introduction about how the plates are photos he took while traveling through Mexico in 1910. He signed it along with marking his location at the time of writing said intro:
Constantine George Rickards. / Oaxaca, / September, 1910.
All I could find through googling the address was that it's now part of a shopping district in London but couldn't find anything on the publisher's name or the author's name besides the fact that this was his only known publication, and he wanted to make a second volume according to a slip of paper inside the book, which gives two publishing houses where they would supposedly be able to be obtained from in 1911, including the above. As far as I've seen online, volume 2 was never made. It doesn't exist anywhere, just people's copies of v. 1 they're trying to sell online for however much money. I searched for Constantine on ancestry and couldn't find anything either, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm just somehow incompetent with tech despite growing up with it. The slip of paper says as follows:
"The Ruins of Mexico." VOLUME II. of this work, containing a similar number of plates as Vol. 1, will be published early in 1911, and can be obtained from-- PHILIP SANDOVAL, Apartado, 21, Oaxaca, Mexico, and H.E. SHRIMPTON, 105, Regent Street, London, W.
My next courses of action will likely be looking into the Oaxacan publisher and address listed, as well as doing an ancestry search for Shrimpton, but I don't have too much hope I'll turn up anything. If anyone knows a thing or two about this and would like to help, or even if you're just interested in helping track these figures down and find out what happened to them and more about their lives, especially that of the author, any help is greatly appreciated.

Let me start by stating the fact that I know that I am an idiot for trusting this person. There's nothing you can say to beat me up worse than I am already beating up myself.
He told me everything I wanted to hear, and I completely trusted him. I thought I was trading my 2009 Nissan Murano for a freshly registered 2015 Chevy Cobalt. He stated that the Chevy was owned by a friend of his that wanted to trade it for a smaller SUV. After driving the Chevy around for a couple of hours I decided to take the deal. The Murano had some mechanical issues and he said that he was just looking out for me, trying to get me into something else before it broke down and that he wasn't making anything on the deal.
We met up at a restaurant. He said that his buddy who owned the Chevy wanted to see the title for the Murano to be sure everything was legitimate and that I could hold onto the Chevy title during the process. He hands me a stack of papers that included a vehicle title. He claimed he had a family emergency and took off before I could finish sifting through the papers. I figured he had my best interest at heart because we were friends.
Unfortunately, the title he gave me went to a Mercedes van and there was a bill of sale from what appears to be a car that he previously owned for which his wife signed.
Turns out, the Chevy was actually OLDER than the Murano and it hasn't been registered in years. So far, none of his claims are turning out to be true. Upon asking for my vehicle back he says that we had already made a deal and that the Murano is gone. He said if I call the police they won't do anything because it's a civil matter.
Now, I am stuck with a car that I can't put into my name or register because I have no idea who owns it. I have a title that
goes to some random vehicle, both of which could very well be stolen. I do have comprehensive insurance on the Murano, but just started a new policy right before this situation occurred. So, I'm not sure that if that's even a route I could potentially take. Honestly, at this point, I just want my car back or at least a bill of sale for the Chevy.
Actually, now that I've typed all of this out I can see just how insane it all sounds. I should probably just file a police report. This guy completely to advantage of me. This will be the first and last time something like this happens to me!!
Any advice would be greatly appreciated!