I think there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know what it is. Ive been seeing different psychiatrists since I was 7yo. My first psychiatrist diagnosed me with major depressive disorder and anxiety. I like to believe ive gotten better and it magically went away. Ive been put on all kinds of medications you name it, nothing has ever worked. I got seriously addicted to a bunch of shit for a few years but ive been sober for 1 now. I got diagnosed with adhd two years ago as well as bpd. I dont believe any of those things. There have been so many cases of people getting misdiagnosed and put on the wrong medications. I do think I have adhd but honestly I cant remember that far back into my childhood to know if this is the way I always was. I know for a fact I have ocd, my mom, her dad, my dad, they all have it. It affects every single aspect of my life. Im writing this at 6:55am, havent slept in 2 days. I have exams this week and im too exhausted to take in any more information studying but never tired enough to actually fucking sleep. I am so tired I just wanna cry. Multiple therapists have ghosted me and the ones that didnt are honestly complete bullshit and just make me fall deeper into my belief that therapy is a scam. My previous therapist wanted to talk to me about me possibly being bipolar before she ghosted me. I dont know wtf is wrong me. For the past idk almost year I have been convinced im on the spectrum. I dont want to self diagnose but I cant afford to see a psychiatrist right now and the last one I finally was able to get an appointment with that ACTUALLY accepted my insurance was a complete condescending dick. I cant even get my adhd medication anymore. I have a huge sensory processing disorder that makes me feel like a freak and makes my day to day so damn hard. Im left with having to put together the pieces with all my symptoms by myself but every single article or person tells me I have every possible mental illness. I am so confused and dont know what to do. Some days I refuse to believe there is anything wrong with me and other days I start to remember why I started seeking help in the first place. I honestly find it so cringe saying “oh i have ocd” or “yeah my sensory issues blah blah blah…” but I honestly just wish I knew exactly what it is with me, maybe Id get some kind of relief knowing. I just want to go to sleep and cant no matter what I try. Ive had tachycardia since I was little and it always got brushed off as anxiety (I definitely have some form of social anxiety but I think its related to my ocd) and after finding out that im a recovering addict every doctor I have seen has said shit like “youre probably on coke right now” or “youre doing drugs arent you”. Like no asshole my resting heart rate is 120 and it always has been. Im in a constant state of fight or flight. I finally got metoprolol this year and holy shit I never thought id feel this way. After being on so many different meds for anxiety that did nothing (except xans lol) this was the one thing that actually helped me. The first time i took my metoprolol i fucking cried happy tears. Anyways this is my first post on reddit so i guess that should kind of put in perspective how fed up I am with my daily life. Honestly idk what the point of this post even is but im just so tired. My days blur together. If i do fall asleep I wake up at like 2-3pm my day is fucked. I cant go to sleep earlier no matter what i do or take knowing i have to wake up early for school or work. Ive been reading about delayed sleep phase and it sounds like me rn but no one gives any solutions. I just want to be normal and feel like a normal person, ready to accomplish things daily.

I think there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know what it is. Ive been seeing different psychiatrists since I was 7yo. My first psychiatrist diagnosed me with major depressive disorder and anxiety. I like to believe ive gotten better and it magically went away. Ive been put on all kinds of medications you name it, nothing has ever worked. I got seriously addicted to a bunch of shit for a few years but ive been sober for 1 now. I got diagnosed with adhd two years ago as well as bpd. I dont believe any of those things. There have been so many cases of people getting misdiagnosed and put on the wrong medications. I do think I have adhd but honestly I cant remember that far back into my childhood to know if this is the way I always was. I know for a fact I have ocd, my mom, her dad, my dad, they all have it. It affects every single aspect of my life. Im writing this at 6:55am, havent slept in 2 days. I have exams this week and im too exhausted to take in any more information studying but never tired enough to actually fucking sleep. I am so tired I just wanna cry. Multiple therapists have ghosted me and the ones that didnt are honestly complete bullshit and just make me fall deeper into my belief that therapy is a scam. My previous therapist wanted to talk to me about me possibly being bipolar before she ghosted me. I dont know wtf is wrong me. For the past idk almost year I have been convinced im on the spectrum. I dont want to self diagnose but I cant afford to see a psychiatrist right now and the last one I finally was able to get an appointment with that ACTUALLY accepted my insurance was a complete condescending dick. I cant even get my adhd medication anymore. I have a huge sensory processing disorder that makes me feel like a freak and makes my day to day so damn hard. Im left with having to put together the pieces with all my symptoms by myself but every single article or person tells me I have every possible mental illness. I am so confused and dont know what to do. Some days I refuse to believe there is anything wrong with me and other days I start to remember why I started seeking help in the first place. I honestly find it so cringe saying “oh i have ocd” or “yeah my sensory issues blah blah blah…” but I honestly just wish I knew exactly what it is with me, maybe Id get some kind of relief knowing. I just want to go to sleep and cant no matter what I try. Ive had tachycardia since I was little and it always got brushed off as anxiety (I definitely have some form of social anxiety but I think its related to my ocd) and after finding out that im a recovering addict every doctor I have seen has said shit like “youre probably on coke right now” or “youre doing drugs arent you”. Like no asshole my resting heart rate is 120 and it always has been. Im in a constant state of fight or flight. I finally got metoprolol this year and holy shit I never thought id feel this way. After being on so many different meds for anxiety that did nothing (except xans lol) this was the one thing that actually helped me. The first time i took my metoprolol i fucking cried happy tears. Anyways this is my first post on reddit so i guess that should kind of put in perspective how fed up I am with my daily life. Honestly idk what the point of this post even is but im just so tired. My days blur together. If i do fall asleep I wake up at like 2-3pm my day is fucked. I cant go to sleep earlier no matter what i do or take knowing i have to wake up early for school or work. Ive been reading about delayed sleep phase and it sounds like me rn but no one gives any solutions. I just want to be normal and feel like a normal person, ready to accomplish things daily.

Disclaimer: I do not speak Korean. This is purely translated by machine with a lot of cleanup afterward. With that in mind, I am open to criticism to improve these translations. Enjoy!
Chapter 410
‘Has it been thirty years?’
Lee Jeong-Ryong muttered to himself.
A mingled stench of countless monsters and blood carried by the wind — it was the unmistakable aroma of a battlefield, stirring memories of the past.
‘Yes, it’s been a long while indeed.’
His gaze drifted toward the slowly encroaching fog, eyes betraying his youthful facade. The pale fog, teeming with unseen monsters, radiated an ominous presence.
While the majority of the troops appeared unsettled, for Lee Jeong-Ryong, who had witnessed the Great Cataclysm, this was all too familiar.
“How old are you?”
Lee Jeong-Ryong’s abrupt inquiry caught Seok Go-Jun, who stood a step behind, off guard.
“I’m thirty-five.”
“A good age. When I look back, I was the same as you. I had to overcome the risk of death every day, but I also had grand dreams.”
Lee Jeong-Ryong stared into the void with deep eyes.
It seemed as if he could see his younger self somewhere out there — a young man full of resolve and ambition.
But now, thirty years later, the person standing here was an old man, nearing seventy.
“Sometimes I have doubts. I have a suspicion that everything I’ve built might crumble.”
“I have no such doubts.”
“Why?”
Seok Go-Jun barely moved his lips.
-Because you are here, Master.
A soft chuckle escaped Lee Jeong-Ryong.
-What would you do if I were to fall?
-I assure you, that will not happen.
-There was a time when I thought the same of someone. He was stronger than anyone, like a wall that couldn’t be surpassed even if I devoted my life to it.
-……!
-He was the beginning, the end, and everything of the Great Cataclysm. He was the savior of humanity, and almost a new god. But he was just a human, after all.
The once revered hero had vanished, leaving behind a mysterious legacy known only to a few.
Lee Jeong-Ryong, one of those privileged few, spoke with a hushed tone.
-There is nothing permanent nor certain. I’ve been contemplating this quite a bit lately.
-……Is it because of Jin Tae-Kyung?
-Once the crack starts, the collapse is instantaneous. He is the crack.
-Before it collapses, we must fill the crack.
Lee Jeong-Ryong surveyed the fog sweeping across the barren plain. His voice, soft yet edged with resolve, broke the silence.
“Are you ready?”
“Of course.”
With a deep bow, Seok Go-Jun unsheathed his sword.
Sssrrrng. Chachachang!
Echoing him, a symphony of metal sang as hundreds, then thousands of weapons were drawn in unison.
The Ares Guild's elite, forged through relentless raids and rigorous training, stood ready. The glow from the weapons wielded by numerous Chinese Hunters rippled like the sea.
“Please give the command.”
At Seok Go-Jun’s prompt, Lee Jeong-Ryong began his advance.
This battlefield was reserved not for ordinary soldiers but for the superhumans known as Hunters, and Lee Jeong-Ryong would be the god of this battle.
“Let’s go.”
With this command, Lee Jeong-Ryong surged ahead, his blade parting the fog as it cleaved through the air.
Kwaaaaaa-!
* * *
Puhgeuk!
A young man, now covered in green, foul-smelling blood, fought back nausea.
He scarcely had a moment to react.
Whoosh, bang!
The upper section of his tower shield exploded, sending shards flying perilously close to his face.
Blood mingled with the air, overpowering the dreadful stench momentarily, but before him stood an undead ogre, hefting a colossal mace.
-Gruuuuuh!
Whooooosh.
The chilling whoosh of the air could freeze one's soul.
Clamping down on his fear, the young man crouched, shielding himself with his mana-charged tower shield.
Bang!
A massive shock reverberated through his body, his head buzzing and his arm throbbing with pain.
‘Shit, that's probably broken.’
Yet a broken arm was the least of his concerns.
Facing him was a five-meter-tall monster, swinging a mace as large as a full-grown man with terrifying force.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Amid the relentless assault, the young man screamed in agony.
「Hey, you fucking bastard! Why are you so strong!」
As a seasoned B-rank Hunter, he had faced ogres before.
Typically, ogres, categorized as A-rank monsters, boasted considerable strength and endurance, but this one was unusually formidable.
That much was clear...
Bang!
Despair washed over him as his high-strength tower shield, acquired earlier this year for a hefty price, crumbled under just five strikes.
'Damn it... Are these things on steroids?'
It was too strong. Peering through the mist at the ascending mace, the young man felt his doom was imminent.
All he could think of was one name.
'Jin Tae-Kyung.'
His death would be all because of that guy.
Had Jin Tae-Kyung ignored him that day, he would never have been reported, nor drafted as a front-line tank.
Nor would he be facing his end like this.
Whoooosh!
He lacked the courage to confront the looming mace.
As his eyes clamped shut, a scream escaped him involuntarily.
「Jin Tae-Kyung, you bangzi bastard!」
And in the next moment.
Squeak! Tudu-tu-tuduk!
All he saw were the backs of his eyelids as a cool breeze caressed him and hot liquid rained from above.
Soon, a familiar voice drilled into his ears.
"What the fuck?"
「…Huh?」
He blinked open his eyes. Green blood rained from above. The headless body of the undead ogre began to topple, and the scowling face of that familiar figure came into view.
「…Huh?」
"You're that bastard from last time. The Birdian guy."
Sssshk, puhgeuk!
What transpired next was nearly invisible.
Extending his hand, a beam of light, seemingly a dagger, sliced through several monsters. They collapsed as if their strings had been abruptly cut.
An involuntary retort escaped the young man's lips.
「No, I'm not.」
“What do you mean you're not? You bastard.”
Pop-pop-pop! Bang!
“I saved you because you looked in danger, and how do you repay me? Bangzi? You better survive. I’ll keep you as my bangzi until you die of old age.” [Note: the MC is using the old original meaning of "helper" or "errand boy" here.]
Squeak, chaaaak!
Is this a dream?
With each blink, monsters around him toppled like hay.
Blue flames erupted, accompanied by the sound of air tearing, clearing the dense area so thoroughly that there seemed nowhere left to stand.
The spectacle originated from the fingertips of a single individual, performing feats beyond human capability.
Stunned, the young man posed his question.
「Are you...God?」
After a brief pause, Jin Tae-Kyung replied.
“Are you...an idiot?”
Cruuunch!
Blue flames scoured the terrain. Steel melted, and monsters within the inferno shrieked in torment.
With a single gesture, Jin Tae-Kyung annihilated dozens of monsters and looked towards the young man.
“Hey.”
「Y-Yes?」
“Survive. Because I'm going to make you my bangzi.”
「What?」
“I'm not joking. If you die, it will be by my hands.”
「……!」
“Oh, and this.”
Sssshk, crash!
An object, streaking like a comet, struck the young man’s forehead and shattered.
Before he could process it, a clear liquid doused him, and a calm voice penetrated his ears.
“You’ll be fine now, so fight again. Messing with ogres will get you killed, so focus on the weaker ones. Got it?”
Ssssssss.
A liquid, no a potion, cascaded over his body, emanating a soothing warmth.
The young man, feeling his wounds and broken arm mend, nodded absentmindedly.
「Y-yes.」
"Then I'm off."
「Please, be careful, sir.」
Oblivious to the chaos of the battlefield, the young man bowed deeply.
When he looked up again, Jin Tae-Kyung had vanished, replaced by a swift procession of fighters.
Ssssssh, sssshk!
About two hundred Hunters surged forward along the path Jin Tae-Kyung had cleared, their weapons at the ready.
Leading the charge were two particularly powerful figures.
"&*^%!"
「The formation has broken! Charge!」
One was a handsome man shouting indistinct Korean, and the other was a remarkably youthful Hunter.
Their movements were swift as the breeze; their gleaming swords cleaved through the monsters.
‘Suicide squad.’
He was familiar with the term. Some S-rank Hunters, Jin Tae-Kyung included, were at the forefront of various battles, aiming to confront the Arch Lich.
Just yesterday, the idea seemed absurd. But...
‘Incredible.’
Could he ever reach their level?
As the young man watched the scene unfold, he felt a surge of warmth in his chest — a newfound strength welled up uncontrollably.
He gripped his partially intact tower shield and lunged at the nearest monster.
「Yaaaaaah!」
-Grrrrrrr!
Whoosh, bang!
"......"
Shit. It was another ogre.
Realizing his tower shield was now completely destroyed, the young man turned to flee.
‘Orcs. Where are the orcs!’
* * *
Thump!
'It's over.'
The sensation transmitted through my fist was just right. With a spark of certainty in my mind, the head of the Lycanthrope, previously snapping at my neck, burst apart.
Ding.
-[Lv.92 Dark Lycanthrope] has been defeated!
-You have gained a small amount of experience!
A Lycanthrope in the 90s?
I was aware that levels weren’t the ultimate measure of strength, but the monsters on this battlefield were notably tougher than those encountered through the Gates.
'They're stronger.'
Their levels were slightly elevated, their agility and strength notably superior.
I could write off the odd monster or two, but it would be foolish not to suspect something amiss given that monsters ranging from F-rank to A-rank were all exhibiting enhanced capabilities.
"Mr. Jin Tae-Kyung!"
「Hyung!」
At the desperate shout from behind, I spun around to find monsters swarming the path I had just cleared.
The suicide squad was engaged in fierce combat with them.
"Disappear, all of you."
Prrrbbbbt!
To these monsters, I am an existence they can neither block nor avoid.
Dozens of shadow fists, launched like artillery, descended upon them.
Some were obliterated into tiny bits scattered to the winds, while others simply disintegrated where they stood.
I swiftly moved into the cleared area.
Shrrrrrsh!
The spear, charged with Protective Qi, sliced through bone and flesh, slashing wildly. As numerous monsters fell, the System notifications incessantly chimed.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
-[Lv.55 Dark Orc Warrior] has been defeated!
-You have gained a small amount of experience!
-[Lv.83 Dark Lizard Mage] has been defeated!
-You have gained a small amount...
Then came a cheerful chime I hadn't heard in a while.
-Level up!
-As a result of leveling up, fatigue and some injuries are recovered!
-You have earned 10 points!
-Your physical condition has reached its peak!
I can sense it — the Qi, once slowly depleting, is now fully restored, and the weariness that had built up in my body has been cleansed.
But there was something more important.
"Mr. Choi! Shao Shen!"
"Yes!"
「Please speak!」
My voice boomed across the battlefield.
"Get out of the fog! Stay as far away from it as possible!"
This wasn’t merely some irritating, moist fog; it was a magical creation of the Arch Lich.
It didn't just enhance the monsters; it 'corrupted them with darkness.'
‘Damn magic.’
As I focused intently on the menacing fog enveloping us.
Kwaaaaaang!
A resounding blast, as if the heavens themselves were tearing apart, thundered overhead.

So this lady I know, "K", was in a rough spot so I let her move in in early March. Verbal agreement that by May 15th she'd move out or start contributing "like $200 a month" to rent. There is only a verbal agreement for this.
More importantly very quickly after she moved in we became intimate. She never really even slept in the room I prepped for her.
A week ago I was watching the fallout show on my computer and auto-play was on. I fell asleep around midnight with her next to me. At some point in the night she wakes me up and is sitting on top of me forcefully grabbing my face and yelling about how I'm a piece of shit and that we're done. "I'll come back to move out in a few days." and then she left. I was very confused but she's done weird overreacting stuff many times already in the short time span so I just go back to sleep.
ANYWAYS... I wake up the next morning to texts from friends asking what was going on with . Turns out she waiting until I fell asleep and exploited the auto-play feature keeping my computer from locking itself. She was up all night toiling through my social and sent out messages from my account. She even put her name in the messages saying it was her who was writing them.
When I confronted her about it, she had absolutely no remorse for doing it and took no responsibility that it was wrong of her to do. Saying "I wanted to see what cute things you said about me/us." as a justification. What she found was me talking to friends about the weird/crazy shit she was doing on a weekly basis. She clearly did not like what she saw.
A couple days later I had also made a post from my main account on a relationship sub explaining all her terrible behavior and her invasion of privacy and a few hours later I received a few more scathing paragraph long text messages and a screenshot of the post I made. I did not give her my reddit name, she wrote it down/saved it from my browser session. So she's stalking my social media now, too.
Luckily I have all of these admissions in text messages from her.
I never gave her permission to use my computer or go through my social media. Isn't this federally illegal? Can this be used as the reason to evict?

Okay. Hi everyone. I know this topic has been done before. But not by me though. Not sure if it is allowed or who it will p*ss off. Just roll with it and help a brother out.
Okay, I have been wanting to open my own business for a very long time. Ideas of all sorts of business that I have been interested in over the years. So the last few months I have been really researching Handyman Business. I love the work, so that is a huge plus. Plus I have the capital to invest. Not that it really requires all that much capital to start up, but it sure doesn't hurt.
Name choice.
I have a name chosen and I have a logo made (by me) but here is something to consider. The word Handyman was initially not in the title. I did some research on keywords that people use to find a handyman. Guess what that word is? You guessed it Handyman. I think that could potentially hurt me in a way. My business name will not come up on top in searches. Or will it? Are there not keywords that you can associate with the business website? What I mean is, can you attach keywords to your website. Not sure how that works. Do you think that I should use the word Handyman in the bizz name or do you think it doesn't really matter?
Two versions "Bizee Beez Home services LLC" and "Bizee Beez Handyman Services". The slogan I am thinking about using "Don't get stung by the competition". Although that is not in my logo at this point. Something I am considering. Do you think that is going to piss a lot of other handymen off?
Also, the name in general. Should I go with something entirely different?
Business model
Times are tough and there may not be a whole lot of customers in one particular area of services. I was planning to offer a wide range of services to keep me busy when one service slows down. example of services: All the usual Handyman services such as: garbage disposal, painting, door repair, drywall repair, faucet installation, tv mounting, furniture assembly ect.
But I also want to offer pressure washing and buy the appropriate equipment.
My thinking is that, if I have a mixture of services and master them all it will keep me busy. Good idea or not?
Of course customer service is priority 1. I believe I have outstanding work ethics. And customer satisfaction is #1 because all else falls in line.
$500 limit
I am in California and I know there is a $500 limit. Is there a tricky way around this? There has to be some legit loop hole. There has to be. Any Ideas?
I read that you can not break up a project to escape the 500 limit. If a customer Hires me to do a job and I complete it and a week or month later they want to add on. Is that considered breaking the 500 limit? Per project, I know. Why can't each one be a separate project? Ideas guys?
Logo
I am attaching the logo and would like some honest opinions. Nothing fancy. The name has a meaning, a personal meaning but don't let this interfere. I want honest opinions please.
My mother who passed away (rip Mom) use to call me Bee my whole life (except when she was mad) and before she passed away (we knew it was happening) I asked her why she called me Bee. My first name also starts with a Bee. But I asked her anyway. She said I was always busy doing something like a busy bee. So that is how the name came up for the bizz. Now don't let the story interfere. It is about bizz and I want to succeed. If people aren't going to take to the name, then I won't use it and will come up with something else.
Thanks for your help people!

It's been hard to find time to write this past week, but I'm chugging along, however sluggish. I also want to give a huge thanks to u/icallshogun for telling me how to use new-old reddit, because it's already saved me a bunch of time posting this single chapter.
I have a bad habit of last minute editing before I post chapters. I'll usually go over once or twice and switch up a few things. I didn't this time. Why am I telling you this? No idea. Enjoy.
A little PSA: if the next chapter button is missing, it's most likely in the comments (either that, or the next chapter isn't out yet), because sometimes reddit likes to say posts are more than 40k even when they aren't, making them impossible to edit. I just had this problem adding the link to chapter 12.
Many thanks to u/SpacePaladin for making NoP!
Prev -First- Next
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Chapter 13: A million miles away
- Memory Transcription Subject: Arlene Brandy, Human Refugee
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
The refugee center crested the horizon, with UN banners draped from the second story, and signs marking some of the nearby buildings as temporary housing. I wondered how exactly they convinced people to hand over entire buildings for use. One of them wasn’t even an apartment building, it was offices.
There were more humans around, of course, with the venlil population extremely sparse, only a few brave enough to be anywhere near the ‘den’. I grabbed the door, and opened it, revealing the main lobby, which to my utter surprise, had a venlil at the desk along with a human.
It feels so weird to point out when people are human or not, but that’s just how it is now. I ambled towards the pair, keeping my movements slow and calculated, not to scare the guy. He noticed, and let out a chuckle.
“No need to worry about me ma’am. I’m quite used to humans by now.”
I relaxed, blushing a little. “That makes sense.”
“What do you need?” The venlil asked.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to get one of those datapads. I have family at home I need to get in touch with.”
“And you are?”
“Arlene Brandy.”
“Uh huh.” He clicked at the computer for a moment. “Well, you’re a little late to the party. We just got five hundred or so new residents, so we’re out of new pads, but I’m sure you can find someone willing to let you borrow theirs.”
“Shit.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. You’re staying at Golden Ridge apartment 113, correct?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’ll have one sent to your door when we get a new shipment.”
“Thank you.” I turned to leave.
“Wait, we wont get more for a few paws yet. Why don’t you try asking to use someone else’s?”
I turned back around to the desk. “Can I use yours?”
"Sorry, mine doesn’t connect to the Earth networks.”
“Shit.”
“Please try not to swear so much, there are children around.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The guy at the desk was so comfortable around me that it started making me uncomfortable. While the human at the desk didn’t even register me. I bet he was playing solitaire.
I entered the common room. People ambled, walked, teetered, and even ran around, from door to door and table to table. Seating was plentiful, but there weren’t any free spots, because the place was so packed. There really were a lot of them. Refugees, I mean. This was only a tiny fraction too.
How many more? Is there an end to it?
I searched for someone to approach, but found nothing. Everyone was grieving. I didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t want to see it, I didn’t want to know it was there. My stomach turned in a horrible spiral, and I soon found myself bent over a toilet, ejecting breakfast. I was drooling over the bowl like a rabid dog, eyes watering and legs quaking. My diaphragm expelled one last gust of air, in a horrible coughing fit that lasted uncomfortably long.
I don’t know how I found the bathroom without help, it wasn’t marked very well. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing I guess, whatever ‘that sort of thing’ is.
On my way out, I washed my hands twice, not that it made a difference. The common room was still full of chatter and sobbing, quiet and boisterous both in their own right.
A man in a dress shirt sat alone at a table with his head in his hands. A mother cradled a baby in her arms, rocking him to sleep. In the corner of the room sat a group of people sitting on the ground playing monopoly. A boy ate a droopy sandwich next to a parent, munching listlessly. They all looked so tired. So tired that it could suck the breath right back out of you.
At one of the tables was a man with burns on his arms, and another bandaging him up. He winced when the bandages touched the splotches where blisters used to be, dry and scabbed. There was a good chance the burns were inflicted on purpose, by them. Monsters.
He locked eyes with me, his empty like all the rest. My head jerked away, embarrassment on my face like dye, the mask doing little to hide my frenzied posture. I power walked to another part of the room, behind a group of people conversing. I took off my coat so I wouldn’t overheat in the stuffy room… and also to blend into the crowd.
Staring at burn victims? What is wrong with you?
I looked down at myself. My boots were brown, my pants were black, and my shirt was as well, with a picture of an album cover on the front. My hands were twitchy, and my arm was still bandaged. I could’ve, should’ve lost the dressings by then, but I hadn’t got around to it. I put my coat back on
Since I wasn’t getting anywhere, I decided to take a trip down the hallways, into the dorms, where it was less crowded.
Down the halls, past a few turns, was an open door, with warm light spilling out, and cheerful discussion taking place inside. Taking a peek, I saw a group of 3 people, one of whom was a venlil, playing cards. The funny thing, is it was one of those grungy decks with pictures of naked ladies on them. Well, I don’t know if it was funny, but it stuck with me.
“Hello?” Spoke the venlil.
The other heads turned in my direction. I was discovered. A pang of cold crawled through my spine.
“O-oh, hi.” I tried and failed to act like I hadn’t been watching them for several seconds.
“Hey there, are you one of the new arrivals?” Asked the girl sitting next to the venlil.
“Uh, no, I’ve just been living in a different spot.”
“No wonder you look like shit.” Spoke a middle aged guy with scars. There was an ankle monitor on his leg, though I certainly wasn’t going to question him about it.
“Ben! Don’t be rude.” The girl replied.
“I’m not being rude. We all look like shit. Some of us are shit right now.” Ben mumbled.
“Well you don’t have to be so nihilistic about it.” She turned back to me. “Wanna join us? We could use a fourth.”
“No thanks. I’m trying to get in touch with my family.”
"Well if they’re here, I can find them. I know everyone here.” Said the girl, with a big grin.
"They’re on Earth. I just need to use someone’s datapad. The guy at the desk said we were out of new ones.”
“Did you break yours?”
A nervous laugh escaped me. It felt so weird to have a normal conversation. The last time I talked to a human was only a few days ago, but it felt much longer. Years maybe… or not. My shoulders felt tight, probably from the extra weight. I swallowed a lump that had been growing in my throat since leaving Earth, and my stomach got heavier as a result.
What did she lose?
I cleared my throat. “N-no, I never got one in the first place.”
“Well, no worries. You can use mine if you want. I’m Taylor by the way.” She smiled.
I didn’t smile back. The mask would’ve hidden it anyway. “Thanks. I’m Arlene.”
She handed me the weird alien phone, which I soon realized I didn’t know how to use.
The venlil piped up. “Want me to do it for you?” He stood up.
“Yes please.” I handed him the datapad.
He started tapping away at the device. “These things are super outdated. The interface is really clunky, especially the UN comms.”
I loomed over his shoulder, watching him type in a bunch of stuff into text boxes. “You have to login to make calls?”
“No, this is just the path the call will be taking. Where are you calling?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Where is that?”
“North America.”
*“*Okay, there we go.” He handed the datapad back to me. “Just type in the phone number and you’re good to go.”
“Thanks.” I started punching in the number.
“No problem. I’ve had to do it for Taylor a million times by now.” He chuckled.
“Hey, I know how to do it now!” She replied.
“Then why didn’t you show her how?”
Taylor snorted. “Because then you wouldn’t be useful anymore, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Whatever you say.” He flicked his tail.
“Hey, enough with the snarky tail language.” She crossed her arms.
“What did he say?” Ben asked.
“He said I was a goober.”
I looked up from the datapad. “You have a tail sign for ‘goober’?”
“Of course we do, why wouldn’t we?” He shrugged.
Ben raised his eyebrows, and Taylor laughed. I was still wearing the mask.
"Hey, do you mind if I uh… you know.” I pointed to my face.
“Oh please, you couldn’t possibly be uglier than Taylor.”
“You better be careful Talnek. You’d get a beating if you insulted a lady where I come from.” Ben stated.
Taylor punched Ben in the shoulder. “He’s just messing!”
I removed the mask, and set it down on a table. “Is it alright if I make the call outside?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t manage to brick the thing.” Talnek said, sitting back down at his cards with a snicker.
Taylor shot him a dirty look.
“Thanks again Taylor.”
She grinned like a little kid. “No prob bob!”
I stepped into the hallway, holding the datapad up to my face, and pressed the call button.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang…
Until the display lit up with the face of my dad. My lips curled up in a smile.
“Hey dad.”
“Ope!” He flinched, then grinned. “Hey there sweetie. Havin’ fun up in space?”
“Nevermind that! Are you guys okay? Did Luke make it back alright?”
“Oh we’re doing fine yet. Luke got discharged because of injuries. He got pretty banged up in a crash, but he’s alright.”
“Is mom around?”
"Sorry kiddo, she’s out of town getting gas for the generators.”
My eyes widened. “Generators? Is the power out? Have you been able to get dialysis?”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t worry yourself. We’ve got diesel running the place.”
My hands left marks of sweat on the device. “You are getting your blood cleaned, right?”
“Yes, I am. Even if I wasn’t, your pa’s still got some fight left in ‘em.” He patted his bicep.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Jesus dad, you had me worried for a second there.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be. Try to have fun up there. No use worrying about somewhere you’re not.”
A sigh escaped me. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl! How are the aliens treating ya?”
I frowned. “Well, if I’m being honest, most of them are assholes.”
“That so?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve met a few that don’t mind me, but I can count them on one hand.”
“Well that’s better than nothing, ain’t it?” He raised an eyebrow in a joking manner.
I smiled a little. “I guess so.”
“So, tell me about these nice aliens then.”
“Sure- Hold on, is Luke there?”
“He’s sleeping right now. Doctor’s got him on the good stuff.”
“Is it that bad?”
He shouldn’t have enlisted. Asshole. He’s such an idiot. He could have died! “I wanna meet aliens” my ass.
*“*The doc says he’ll be up and at em in a few days, but the pain is still kicking him.”
*“*Is he alright? Like, is he shellshocked?”
Dad frowned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” He looked past the camera. “He’s pretty bitter about the whole thing.”
My blood ran cold. I knew what it sounded like when he was downplaying something. “Dad. Is he gonna be okay?”
His expression softened. “Luke’s a strong boy. He’ll be okay.”
“He better. I’ll kill him if he’s not. You be sure to tell him that.”
Dad laughed. “Sure, sure. Back to the aliens, if you will.”
“My bad.” Warmth filled my face. “So there’s this guy who lives in my apartment building, right? I come back home after a day of trying, and failing, to get my hands on any materials, craft materials are super expensive here for some reason, by the way, and he’s coming home at the same time, so I say hi to him, and he jumps me!”
Maybe things would get better.
“Their claws are sharp! He scratched me up pretty bad, look.” I raised my arm to the camera, and my dad gasped in response.
"Whoa, that’s a lot of bandages.”
“Yeah, right? I may have put too much actually. Anyway, he charges me, and so I put him in a headlock, and I yell at him to calm down. It might have been a misplay on my part, I have to admit. What, with the venlil thinking we want to eat them and all that jazz.”
Dad nodded, eyes full of stars. This was nice.
“Well, he starts crying, and now I felt like an ass, so I try to calm him down, but he’s not having any of it. So I hand him a doll I made, but that didn’t do much either, so I ended up just having to leave him there. Would you believe it if I told you he came knocking on my door the next day? He wanted to learn felting!”
He burst into laughter, having to wiping a tear from his eye. “I have to say, you have the strangest way of making friends.”
Maybe I was worrying over nothing.
“Oh, I forgot to mention, so, I was trying to get wool, right? But there’s obviously no sheep here on venlil prime.”
“Oh, don’t tell me.”
“So I went around offering free haircuts.”
Dad started wheezing like he had sand in his lungs. He struggled to point a finger at me. “S-so…” He burst into another fit of laughter. “You went around with shears, offering haircuts to the fluffy aliens who think you want to eat them?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right. I give damn good cuts too.” I grinned, face full of mischief.
“So this friend of yours took you up on the offer? What’s his name?”
“Meba. And yes, I sheared him.”
“Okay, Meeh Baah? Are you pulling my leg?”
“Nope, that’s his real name. It means ‘little person’ in venlil, apparently.”
“You’re kidding! That is priceless! What happened then?”
“I sheared him, and then we went inside, and I taught him how to felt, and he got all flabbergasted when he saw me eat vegetables. He did this,” I held up a pointer finger, closing my eyes. “and then he said ‘You can’t eat vegetables, you’re a predator.’”
“Uh huh.”
“So after that, to skip to the good part, he has me follow him to work to *‘*protect him from humans’, and on the way back, just as we’re getting back to the apartments, he collapses in the hallway, hyperventilating and shaking.”
Maybe I could finally calm down.
“Oh no, was he okay?”
“Yeah, I brought him inside and calmed him down, but then the exterminators barged in! He stuffed me into a closet to hide me.”
Dad’s face swelled with disgust. “Ah yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“Well, they mess up the whole apartment, and they only leave because Meba is friends with their boss.”
“He’s buddy buddy with those folks?”
“Well, I don’t really know, but he used his connections to protect me, so I don’t mind. I was scared shitless the whole time. I barely kept myself still.”
“But you’re okay, right? They didn’t hurt you?”
"No, I was fine. I kind of blew up at him though. We made up though, and now he’s even comfortable around me with the mask off!”
“Mask?”
“The UN makes everyone wear masks in public so we don’t scare people.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Yeah… it’s kinda scary sometimes.”
Home was still there.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure the rest of em will fall for your charm soon enough.”
“Yeah. After all, who could hate such an enchanting young lady?” I made a not so dignified face.
Dad shot a silly look right back, making us both laugh at our shared stupidity.
“So, since everything’s intact, when should I come home? I should be able to pretty soon.”
He smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about that. You should stay up there until the power comes back in… oh I don’t know, it should be on in a week or two. No reason to come back when the town is still out of whack.”
“What? But I can help out. Isn’t there work to be done?”
His eyes were warm. “Arlene, just have fun. We’ll be fine. Come home when it’s more comfortable.”
What?
“But I miss you guys.”
“I know, I miss you too.” He glanced off to the side for a moment. “But just wait a little longer. I want to roll the red carpet out for you. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Fine, but I expect a royal welcome.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “I better let you go, I have to make dinner.”
“Oh.. okay. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me about what’s going on in town.”
“Nothing crazy, just the usual but with flashlights instead of street lamps. Say hi to Meba for me.”
“Okay. Bye dad.”
“Bye kiddo. Try not to worry yourself so much.”
“I’ll try. I love you,”
“I love you too.”
He hung up the call, and home was gone again.
I popped back into the room to give Taylor her datapad back.
“How’d it go?” She asked.
“Good. I think.” I grabbed my mask, and handed her the device.
She smiled. “I’m glad. Want to stay for a bit? Today is pizza day.”
“I’m good. I should probably head out. Thanks though.”
“Wait a second, here.” Taylor handed me a card.
I turned it over in my fingers. It was off white with gold lettering. A business card. Very… eccentric.
“What’s this?”
“My info, so you can get in touch with me when you get a datapad. I’m kinda the self appointed caretaker of this place. If you need anything, anything at all, I’m your gal.”
I took another look at the card. “Thanks. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome! See you later.”
“See you.”
---
I sat on the bench by the office, legs crossed, working on a mini venlil, my third one actually. Yes, I was building an army. An army of little venlil that I would use for… something. Each one measured no more than four inches tall, with floppy yarn tails, and bits of blue yarn affixed for eyes.
They say the one who folds a thousand paper cranes will be granted a wish. What do you get for one thousand woolen venlil?
“Arlene?” Meba was walking towards me. His eyes were unfocused, and his tail was motionless, like a doll’s. He dragged his feet on the ground, and his bag weighed on him like a heap of iron. To put it bluntly, he looked like shit.
“Oh hey there. Done with work?”
“Yeah. What are you making?” His voice was monotone.
“More mini venlil.”
He leaned over. “It looks like me.”
“It is made out of your wool. It would be worrying if it didn’t resemble you.”
“I guess. Does this one have a name too?”
“Not yet. Do you have any ideas?”
He thought for a moment, ears swiveling like satellite dishes. “Mulek.”
“Mulek it is. Is that a common name?”
“It was my father’s name.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Oh, speaking of which, my dad says ‘hi’.”
“He’s the… rancher, right?”
“Yeah.” I got up off the bench. “He’s not as scary as he sounds. If you met him, you’d realize his head is just full of muscles and fart jokes. Ready to go?”
He flicked an ear, and we started walking. The sheer complexity of venlil body language never failed to impress me. Not the ear flicks, those were easy, but the tail signals were insane.
“Hey, Meba?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your job?”
“I’m a computer scientist. Why do you ask?”
“You look really tired. Six hours, sorry, I mean a claw and a half. It’s a long shift for venlil right?”
“Yes, but my job isn’t very physically demanding.”
“It isn’t taking a toll on you?”
“No.” He lied. I mean fuck, did he think I was stupid? I wasn’t, I think. If it wasn’t his job, it was something else.
“Really?”
“Yes, I just didn’t sleep well.” His eyes were drooping in real time.
Fine, be like that. If you won’t open up, I’ll just help another way.
“Do you want me to carry you?”
Meba stopped in his tracks. “C-carry me?”
“You aren’t very heavy. I could give you a piggyback ride the rest of the way.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“C’mon, I could use the exercise.” I crouched down, beckoning him over with my hands.
"Arlene, I can walk on my own.” He sounded offended.
"At least let me carry your bag.”
Meba sighed. “Fine.”
I stood up and grabbed his bag. “And away we go!”
We arrived at the station, just in time to catch the tube. Meba yanked his bag out of my arms to swipe his card through the terminal. This particular transport was packed to the brim with people, more than a few of them human. Meba visibly stiffened. He sat down, I remained standing.
“You okay?”
“Y-yeah. It’s just a-a lot.” He most definitely wasn’t, he was trembling like a leaf.
I stood between him and the crowd. “Better?”
“A l-little… thanks.”
“Hey, why don’t you work on the scarf, take your mind of things?”
“S-sure.” He grabbed the yarn ball from his bag, along with the crochet hook. Slowly, he removed the clip that was stopping it from unraveling, and stuck the hook through, starting right where he left off. He was definitely getting faster.
The tube rattled.
Outside, the city still breathed.
Kids coming home form school, people like us, coming home from work.
Same old same old.
In my mind, I pictured a fleet, swooping through star systems, making daring maneuvers, shooting down other vessels. So many lights. I imagined the metal stretching, and the hull creaking as it moved. I imagined the little people inside, scurrying around like ants, each wholly insignificant, but still, moving that massive shape.
I turned around to check on Meba.
He was still shaking, like a wet dog in the snow.
God, I miss Milo. Too bad they don’t let dogs on venlil prime.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you gonna be alright?”
He looked up at me, with his funny little eyes. They were full of anger.
“Yes. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He let out a breath, clenching his jaw. “It’s so s-stupid it makes me sick.”
“Sorry?”
“There’s no t-threat. I shouldn’t be scared.”
I gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, it’s no big deal. You’re doing well.”
“I’m doing h-horrible. I hate these stupid instincts.” He growled. “H-how is this supposed to be an evolutionary advantage? I can b-barely think straight.”
“Take a deep breath.”
“B-brahk this.” He muttered. “You k-know, we’re famous for being w-weak. The b-best in the whole brahking f-federation.”
I frowned. “Don’t say that.”
“We c-can’t run, and w-we can’t fight.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“I can’t even c-control myself. I h-hate it.” He let the scarf slide back into his bag.
“Meba, you’re the bravest venlil I’ve met.”
“What d-does that say about us? That I’m one of t-the ‘brave ones’? It’s brahking p-pathetic.”
“Don’t say that about yourself.”
“Brahk! What else am I supposed to say?” He hissed, head finding its way into his paws. “It’s horrible. Horrible, horrible, h-horrible.”
I sat down next to him, and put my arm around his shoulder.
“This is s-so stupid.” He muttered.
“Tell me what happened?”
“No.”
A sigh escaped me. This was exhausting. “Okay.” I pulled him close.
He removed his paws from his face to look at me. “How am I gonna t-talk to Gram’s friend like this? I can’t even h-handle being around a few random humans. How am I going to deal with him e-eating in front of me?”
“You saw me eating, didn’t you?”
“That’s… d-different.”
“We don’t have to go if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“N-no. I need to d-do this. I can’t keep b-being scared all the t-time.” He clutched at his fur.
I bent over to grab the work-in-progress scarf from his bag, and offered him the half finished garment.
Meba received the scarf, with eyes full of ash. “Thanks…” He continued weaving.
But before he could get into a groove, the brakes forced us to brace ourselves. We were home.
The ground still rumbled as we left the station, even with the rubbery pavement dampening the vibrations. The scent of rain was in the air, carrying with it a special tint from the alien soil. Wind was billowing now, whipping my hair and pushing against my thick greatcoat. Meba was somehow unbothered by this, thanks to his wool I assume. There weren’t clouds overhead, but that would change. My hands hid in their pockets.
‘Twas too cold madam!’ Said lefty.
‘Not for I! It’s simply more comfortable in here.’ Said righty.
We passed the yard, heading up to the second floor, and my apartment. I shivered.
*“*I think it’s gonna rain soon.”
*“*Huh? Why do you say that?”
*“*It smells like rain.”
He tilted his head, ears flopping along with it. “I thought human noses weren’t very strong?”
*“*Well, not for most things, but we can smell when it rains from quite a ways away.” I opened the door, and stepped inside, yanking my feet out of their shells. “Come on in.”
Meba followed with no hesitation, even when I deposited the mask on the coffee table. He plopped down on the couch, deflating for a few seconds before digging around in his bag for the scarf. I grabbed some snacks from the kitchen, and brought them to the couch. I plopped down beside him, and flipped the TV to a random channel. Hopefully lazing about would help both of us.
After a few minutes of zoning out to The Exterminators of all things, I managed to doze off somehow. Sights and sounds melded into goop, as my brain ceased exact function. Facts became obscured, no concrete understanding remaining. Static resonating with time stretching like putty, everything subjective, only in the moment.
A tower, in the desert, numbly stalking around crumbling balconies, arms like swarms, legs like chicken wire. No need to blink. Down below is something terrible, but it doesn’t matter. It is safe here. But snow falls, the sky tearing like an old t-shirt, is it? The weave becoming tighter, it stretches along the north, through to the south, a taut little line of cotton. Now I’m tearing too. The tower isn’t crumbling, but folding. ‘Here’s the sun’, I think, mind reeling back to wakefulness, a snout by my face. Milo?
“Who?”
“Huh?” I tried to sit up, bringing a hand to the kink in my neck. My mouth was dry with viscus saliva, the aftermath of a nap. When I made it about half way up, my skull collided with Meba’s freakishly solid face.
I fell back, gripping my forehead with a groan.
Meba jumped back, startled. “A-are you okay?”
"Ugh…” I curled up into a ball to further cradle the lump growing on my head. “Owwie…”
He started hyperventilating, almost jogging in place.
I grabbed him by the arm. “I’m fine. That just hurt like hell. What is it?”
The squirming stopped. “Sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to know if you think this is long enough.” He held up the scarf to my face, which was still partially covered by my other hand.
Jeez, more than enough. That thing must be at least 80 inches. How long have I been out?
“Yeah, need me to help you finish it off?”
“Yes please.”

Have to spend the day socializing and faking smiles and feeling in a bit of a funk so I rather just stay home. Hoping to find someone to talk to to help make the day go by easier where I can escape to my phone and have a good conversation that brings me some excitement and happiness.
About me: - married, no kids, three pets - love to learn about people’s passions. If you have a hobby you’re passionate about, tell me all about it! - can ask you a million questions but I’ll stop after five if you’re giving nothing in return. I literally want to know everything about you so mutual desire of that will make us most successful. - sarcastic and witty banter are my love language. - Writing is my passion. Music is not my life. I casually play video games. I love dad jokes. I do not like anime. My newest hobby is learning how to use a too-fancy coffee maker. It’s still sitting in the box. - I’m always a super positive and optimist person but just in a funk this morning and hoping to snap out of it. - I really like lists. I over-use emojis and exclamation points. - bonus points if you’ll play words with friends with me.

I manage a campground. It's a unique situation though because on the 11 acres, there are 3 cabins which are rented to tenants. I am one of the tenants.
The owner of the property (who resides in a different state) offered me a job managing campers from spring through fall. He is adamant about letting the campers use the washer and dryer. The problem is, the washer and dryer (which are in the garage of another building on the property) are also MY washer and dryer, since I don't have a personal set in my cabin. So, come this time of year, I have to share with A LOT of campers.
Since I am paying a whole lot of money for rent (almost 2K/month, while campers pay $55/night), I went ahead and put up a sign on the washer stating that Tuesdays and Fridays were for tenants to do their laundry. This way, I could do a tub clean cycle on the heavily used units and then still allow myself to do my laundry at my residence, instead of going into town and paying the laundromat. I was also given permission to get a lock on the washer so I could keep my items safe if the signs were ignored. My intentions were to lock up the units when they were in use, but recently, I forgot to do so...
The other day, I walked in the garage where the units are and noticed one of the camping couples sitting there at the table reading. The garage is also the community area for campers to hang out. I greeted them and then noticed that the laundry I started was no longer running.
I asked the couple about it and they said, "Oh, well we needed to do a load so we just switched your stuff to the dryer for 20 minutes. It didn't fully dry so we just took it out and set it on top so we could dry ours." Thank GOD it was just a load of towels for the property! It could have been a load of my freaking underwear which would have been SO uncomfortable, or it could have been a load of my jeans, which I don't put in the dryer.
Honestly though, if there is stuff inside a SHARED washer and dryer, it really should not be touched. That just goes without saying. I mean...come on...I don't just get to do my laundry whenever I please. I have to do it on my designated 2 days, and the campers can literally have ANY other day they desire.
In addition, I cannot get the guests to clean out the lint trap, which is a fire hazard! It ends up becoming my job, which isn't right. I have put up notes, I've done demonstrations for guests showing them how to open the trap up, but no...they don't care.
My property owner is NOT confrontational at all and he's so worried about his public reviews people can leave (which have all been 5 stars). I get that keeping campers happy and getting good reviews is important, but as I stated before, I'm paying almost 2K for this place and I don't even have access to a washer and dryer fulltime, while the campers think that they should! I've talked to the owner about it and his suggestion was to get a whiteboard so people could write down their names and phone numbers as they started a load, so other campers could call them if they needed to use the units. I honestly don't think we should offer laundry, as we have plenty of laundromats in town. Since he REALLY wants to offer it, I suggested buying a cheaper stackable unit to put in another building on the property for just the camper's use. I even talked to the contractor and he said he could hook it up. When I asked the owner, he just brushed it off and continued talking about his whiteboard idea.
What more can I do?

Orlan stood in the large Anchorheart chamber in the heart of his castle once more, a wooden training spear in his hands, eyes closed. Slowly he began to move, spinning the spear through a series of blocks and strikes. There was no set pattern to his training, looking more like he was fighting invisible enemies than a regimented routine, but that was what worked best for him. The pattern the spear tip wove in the air reminiscent of lightning, flowing along a jagged path without slowing before striking the target with all the power of a rift.
The chaotic yet flowing fighting style was of his own creation, based on his own observations of rifts. It was also utterly impossible without the super-human body granted by the spheres of mana within his soul, performing seemingly impossible lunges, spins and blocks that a normal human couldn’t manage.
But this wasn’t training, it was an active meditation as Orlan focused on condensing a sixth layer of his soul. Doing so required immense concentration, there were a number of chambers in the castle specially designed to assist in meditation. Some were thick with incense, the burning herbs chosen to heighten focus, while others were almost completely bare to remove all distractions. But Orlan always felt most comfortable in the presence of his Anchorheart, allowing his body and mind to slip into a martial trance. The gentle pulsing of the grand stone granting him a sense of calm even as he danced across the room, spear tip humming through the air, for hours on end.
Normally he wouldn’t spend so long in isolation, but tiering up was a critical goal for him. Not only would it improve his mana regeneration, increasing the time he could spend in combat before exhausting himself, but it also improved the Anchorheart. It would allow them to move the protectorate to other regions, not as reliant on mana geysers to sustain the massive floating island.
But, ultimately, he wasn’t some sage of a wizard’s tower, able to shut himself off from the world for days or even weeks at a time. A faint buzzing in the back of his mind broke him out of his meditation, pulling him from the depths of his spirit in an instant. After a moment to ensure being interrupted hadn’t damaged the sphere he answered the telepathic call.
“Lord, there’s another Rift,” Nallia said on the other side as Orlan wiped the sweat from his face, “in a country called Germany.”
“Damnit,” he replied, “that’s too far for us to reach.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, “even if we were to fully discharge the sky-cutter’s mana we’d only be able to reach Spain. On foot it would take us days to travel from there to the site of the rift.”
“You find out about the rift on the phone?”
“Yes, seems like there might have been another rift in the last week on a continent called ‘Africa’ but word never got out,” she added.
Orlan simply sighed, he’d known it would happen but hadn’t expected the rate of rift appearance to increase this rapidly. In the year before Orlan returned it looked like there had been one or two rifts per month, only a handful had been reported as most likely happened far from civilization or in the depths of the ocean. In the two weeks since the major rift that brought him, however, there’d been three reported rifts, meaning a handful likely went unnoticed by the world at large. It was a far cry from the two rifts a day that was the norm on the other side, but he was the only Protector Lord on this side. He could only cover so much territory by himself, even with the island and sky-cutters.
Ultimately there was only one way to help people, and that was to attempt to raise mages in this world. Mundane guns could hold lower tier monsters off, but against a beast rift you needed to do more than simply delay them. You needed to kill them. Even rifts in remote areas could unleash a tide of monsters that could swallow entire regions in the beasts. Thankfully the weak Aether of this world was, for once, working to their benefit. Unlike mages, Monsters needed a constant supply of mana or their cores would break down. The higher tier the monster the more mana they needed. Even on the other side this had restricted what kinds of monsters could appear in which areas, with the strongest often trapped in wild regions where mana filled the Aether like a thick fog.
The mages at the spire figured that the Aether of this world couldn’t support more than second sphere equivalent monsters for any period of time. Any higher than that and the beasts would slowly suffocate from the lack of mana. It might take days but eventually those ant monsters would grow weak and die. Of course, the amount of damage they could do before then was why they couldn’t simply wait the beasts out.
After cleaning off and joining Nallia in the main sitting room he simply waited and watched along with several others as reports came in from the rift in Germany. The monsters there seemed to have the bodies of elephants but the head and neck of a heron or crane. Even normal elephants had hides thick enough to be resistant to small arms, and boosted by magic these monsters were almost immune to small caliber rounds. They were slow and clumsy, but had surprising reach with their razor sharp beaks, able to lash out to spear people in an instant.
The rift was in a relatively remote location, it seemed, and the German army was on the scene fast enough that Orlan suspected that the units had been on standby. Of course, most of their weapons were of minimal effect, only anti-tank weapons seemed to be able to reliably put the beasts down. The knights were especially interested when the first tanks appeared on the streams, such large armored vehicles were unknown to the other side. The tanks did better than Orlan expected, their main gun more than capable of putting a shell clean through one of the monsters. But it was clear they weren’t built for this kind of combat, most rounds were designed with fighting other tanks in mind and tended to pass completely through the monsters. Often they hit something vital on their travels but these beasts were tougher than any normal animal and many times they simply took the hit and kept going.
The rate of fire of the big guns also left much to be desired, more than once news helicopters witnessed a group of tanks be overwhelmed by a stampede of the elephant like monsters. They would kill a few, but couldn’t get more than one or two shots off before being overrun. Normally infantry would screen for the tanks but no amount of small arms fire would deter these monsters.
“What’s the policy on recruiting boss?” one of the girls from second lance asked suddenly.
“I’m not sure,” Orlan admitted, “I’d planned on recruiting as normal, but with the risk of soul blight…”
“I think all we can do is make them aware of the risk,” the knight shrugged.
“And conduct a test for mana allergy,” Nallia added, “it’s a risk but better than nothing.”
-----
It looked like a small army had gathered in front of the capitol building as the car baring Orlan pulled up to the structure. He’d initially planned on simply landing a cutter across the street, but figured that it was best to not. Instead the cutter had touched down some distance from the city and he’d called to ask for a pickup. The man on the other side sounded annoyed, but when Orlan offered to simply fly over the city in a cutter he became much more amenable.
“We were only expecting one,” the first security guard to approach commented, glancing at the other three with him.
“Did you actually expect me to come alone?” Orlan asked with a raised eyebrow, “honestly, most of my knights wanted to come with me.”
“Knights huh?” the man said, glancing at the two women with him, both of whom wore frilly dresses, before shrugging, “we’re going to have to search you for weapons.”
“Really?”
“It’s procedure,” he shrugged, motioning for them to follow. Of course a half dozen news vans were present as he walked into the capitol building, thankfully security kept them away allowing Orlan to enter unmolested. The next half hour was spent walking through metal detectors and having themselves searched. It was all completely useless, of course, as he could pull his weapon out of his personal space at any time.
After that annoying process they spent well over an hour simply waiting to be called before whatever committee had called for the meeting. By the time the four of them were finally called it was well past nine, when the meeting had been supposed to happen. The room for the meeting wasn’t the main floor of congress, but a side room. A dozen committee members sat at a long raised desk facing the rest of the room, while Orlan was restricted to a simple table with a few chairs on the ground, meaning he’d be forced to look up at the committee.
Typical, he thought to himself, governments never change, even in other worlds. They just had to feel superior.
There was only one name plate at the small table and, surprisingly, it had Orlan’s full name. With a scowl, before sitting he ran his finger across the nameplate, a pulse of mana vaporizing the paper that had been fitted to the plate until just Orlan was left. This action drew some raised eyebrows from the congressmen who were still getting settled, but they waited until everyone was seated to begin.
“Why don’t you begin with introducing yourselves,” the committee leader offered once the room was quiet.
“I’m Protector Lord Orlan,” he replied confidently, “This is Lady Lailra, my second in command, and Lady Nallia, my personal aide. Finally is Grandmaster Benimar of the Mage’s Spire.”
“Interesting,” the committee leader replied, not bothering to introduce himself but there was a nameplate for ‘William’ before him. Next to him the Grandmaster mage grumbled softly to himself, of everyone he was the only one who hadn’t wanted to come, but Orlan had felt that a representative from the spire was a good idea.
“According to the ID you showed our men your name is Orlando Eckhart,” William continued, “is there a reason you don’t use that name?”
“As a Protector Lord I’m required to give up all familial ties, from names to titles,” Orlan explained, “and I’ve always gone simply by Orlan, so I figured I’d just make it official.”
“I see,” William said, writing something down before continuing, “there are a number of reasons for this meeting. First on the schedule is your actions in Boston and Jefferson.”
“That’s where you want to start?” Orlan asked, surprised.
“Please refrain from talking unless asked a question,” William warned him with a mild glare over his glasses, “Now, the Senator from New Jersey is first, you have ten minutes.”
“Thankyou chairman,” another woman on the committee replied, taking a moment to gather her notes, “Now, Mr. Eckhart, accord-.”
“Call me Orlan,” the protector interrupted.
“Please don’t talk during my time,” the woman scowled at him before continuing, “according to news reports you employ quite destructive means during these ‘rift’ events as you call them.”
“Destructive how?” Orlan asked.
“As in damaging,” the woman insisted, “many buildings in Boston were damaged by your so-called magics.”
“We try to minimize collateral damage, if that’s what you’re asking,” Orlan said slowly, “but there’s only so much we can do when the monsters can punt a person through a solid wall.”
“But you admit to causing widespread damage?”
“The damage would have been worse if I hadn’t been present,” countered Orlan.
“And it never occurred to you to leave the situation to the military?”
“If the military had any chance of helping I’d consider it.”
“I understand you’ve been missing for over a decade, but according to our records you were a college student when you vanished,” she pressed, “I find it hard to believe that you, no matter what you went through, and a handful of girls could be more effective than the most powerful military on the planet.”
“Did you see what happened in Germany the other day?” Orlan asked, “do you honestly think-.”
“Mr. Eckhart,” the woman interrupted, “I’m reclaiming my time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means it’s my turn to speak,” she snapped, glancing at the chairman before looking down at her notes, continuing after a moment, “now, after the events in Boston you resisted the agents sent to arrest you, is that correct?”
“The two squads of soldiers you sent to my island you mean?” Orlan asked with a raised eyebrow, “ya, I wasn’t going to just go with them.”
“So not only did you cause extensive collateral damage, injure several agents while resisting arrest, there are also reports of people dying after being treated by your people. Yet you insist you’re more effective than our own army. I would suggest that this man is as much of a danger to our nation as these monsters are, if not more so. We can’t simply allow vigilantes to go around causing such damage and loss of life,” the woman said, turning to the chairman before Orlan could respond, “that’s all I have to say Chairman.”
“Thank you senator,” the man in charge said as Orlan stood.
“Excuse me,” he growled, “do I get a chance to respond?”
“If someone wants to donate their time to you then you can speak,” the chairman replied, looking through the papers on his desk, “those are the rules.”
Next to Orlan both Lailra and Nallia were quite tense, their smiles strained as they clearly struggled to keep still and not draw their weapons. Orlan simply took a deep breath and sat down once more, he’d known this would be frustrating, he just had to deal with it. Eventually the next senator was called to speak.
“Now, Mr. Eckhart,” the rotund man started, the grinding of Orlan’s teeth almost audible across the room as he was once more called by his old name, “based on reports all your so-called knights are women, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Orlan started, “its due to a quirk of-.”
“Thank you, Mr. Eckhart, but it’s my time,” the senator interrupted, “and all of them are white, correct?”
“A few of the girls are from further south but-.”
“Please answer my question, Mr. Eckhart.”
“The majority of my knights are fair of skin, yes,” Orlan growled.
“According to the report, you also committed a racist act following the event in North Carolina,” he continued, “Do you have an issue with black people?”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Answer the question please.”
“No, why would I have-.”
“Thank you, Mr. Eckhart,” the senator once more interrupted, “perhaps you can explain why-.”
“A moment senator,” the chairman interrupted, “that was quite the accusation, surely Mr. Orlan deserves a chance to respond.”
“It’s my time, chairman, he can respond on his own time.”
“I’m going to pause your time then, give our guest a chance to defend himself,” the Chairman stated, nodding to Orlan.
“On the other side I spent most of my time in northern Eura and Siria,” Orlan said after taking another calming breath, “on this side that corresponds loosely to northern Europe and western Asia. Travel isn’t as common or easy on that side, and recruitment mostly comes from local populations, so it’s to be expected that most of my people resemble the populations native to those regions.”
“But you don’t have an issue with recruiting black people?” The chairman asked.
“No, I just never got the chance.”
“Objection, Chairman,” another senator spoke up, “but there are no reports of him being in Europe for the last few decades, much less of a flying island.”
“Because I was on the other side,” Orlan said dryly.
“Objection noted,” the chairman said with a slight glance at Orlan, before motioning to the second senator, “the gentleman from Michigan has the floor again.”
“So, Mr. Eckhart, you claim to have no objection to recruiting people of color,” the round man from earlier said, “then can you explain why you attempted to hand a banana to a black man in North Carolina?”
“Uhh,” Orlan started, completely caught off guard by the question, “because bananas are tasty?”
“Are you aware of the racial implications of such an action?”
“No?”
“I see,” the senator said, pausing to scribble something down, “I think it’s clear that, in addition to the issues pointed out by the lady from New Jersey, this Mr. Eckhart fails to live up to the values of the US. Hiring so many women is laudable, but completely ignoring people of color, and even showing distain towards them, I think proves he doesn’t value diversity. Thank you Chairman.”
Orlan was once more forced to stew as the chairman looked through his notes, eventually calling a senator from Texas next.
“You’ve never had to deal with politics like this, have you Mr. Orlan?” the senator asked with a sympathetic smile, “I think it’s important that people have the chance to defend themselves, so I’d like to ask you one question, and then donate the rest of my time so you can defend yourself. My one question is, what exactly happened in Boston?”
“Thank you,” Orlan sighed, grateful that at least one of the committee members seemed friendly, “What happened there, and in North Caroline and Germany, was what we call a Beast Rift. Basically a poorly understood event that deposits hundreds, or even thousands of magical monsters into the world over-.”
“Objection,” the senator from New Jersey interrupted, “this talk of magic is preposterous. Can we stick to scientific terms?”
“I tend to agree,” the chairman replied after a moment, “perhaps we should start with that, can you tell us what this so-called magic is?”
“It’s… magic,” Orlan said slowly, “by drawing energy called mana from the Aether we can influence the world in seemingly supernatural ways. For example, the giant flying island I use is kept aloft by powerful spells placed upon it a thousand years ago.”
“And these beasts can use magic?”
“In a sense,” Orlan replied, “to put it simply every living thing uses mana, even everyone in this room is only alive thanks to magic, in a sense. Of course most people barely require the tiniest gust of mana in their entire lives, but mages, like my knights and I, and monsters can draw on much greater amounts to empower ourselves. This manifests in a number of different ways, all of which are loosely called magic.”
“You can understand how hard this is to believe,” the chairman said, “with how common CGI is today it’s hard to believe what is seen on the news, can you provide an example? Something solid?”
“Sure, I actually prepared for this,” Orlan said, reaching out and pulling a small billet of metal from his personal space, “with enough mana it’s possible for inanimate objects to use mana as well, though in more limited ways. This is regular iron, mostly pure, making it rather brittle. Consider it a baseline, now, this is tier two iron,” Orlan continued pulling another small bar out, “as iron becomes imbued it becomes stronger and heavier, at tier two it’s weight will have about doubled.”
By way of demonstration he dropped first the mundane iron onto the table, which clattered loudly as it bounced a couple times, followed by the tier two iron which landed with more of a crack. Orlan reached out and pulled a third finger length bar before continuing.
“This is tier five iron, after tier three or four things tend to become rather… extreme. So while I’m certain you could, and will, try to explain the other bar with mundane concepts. I expect this one to be a bit more difficult,” he said and dropped the bar from the same height as the others, and the table bent and seemed to buckle as the bar crashed into it, nearly punching through the wooden top. For a long moment there was simply silence following the demonstration before the chairman spoke up.
“And are you willing to leave this… iron to be inspected?” he asked.
“Of course,” Orlan nodded, “I will recommend that, for the tier five bar, you handle it carefully. I doubt you could break it outside of a machine, but if it does break there’s a good chance it’ll release much of the mana within which could be dangerous.”
“I see…”
\=\=\=\=\=
((I tried to write a chapter of Tower of Worlds and this came out, I think my fingers are revol- no, nothing bad is happening, the hands are fine, continue as normal))
***** Discord - Patreon *****

My name is Ronald Payne and I want to be your next freelance writer. I'm a passionate film watcher and can quote most of the classics. I typically watch movies in the action adventure, sci-fi, fantasy and thriller genres but appreciate most of the big franchises. Serial storytelling is a favorite nut to crack while enjoying developing core essential characters that can flow through multiple installments. I don't discriminate on taste if you have a different genre in mind.
I can research and develop for the story that you want me to tell. I can ghostwrite and format creative pitches into pilots. I can write full length feature film screenplays (for less than wga script rates)(unless you want it very quickly). I can write fictional or non-fictional narrative podcasts or teleplays or web shows.
PAYMENT My screenplay rate can be negotiable but is always done in double payments, with one at the beginning as a retainer and one when it is finished and satisfactory. If you dont want to pay a retainer Im not working for you. Im calling off work for the months and its going to take alot to preplan, start and finish the project so that retainer shows me you can afford to put money into creative story development. It also shows me that you are serious. I will provide a plan of approach and how long it should take and keep a week by week updates from then on.
SCHEDULING/UPDATES I will give daily updates and keep communication clear while keeping you as informed as possible where I am in the process. DISCLAIMER: When it comes to creative development and writing a script don't expect it to happen overnight at a high quality. In story development it is essential to be cautious and patient. I assure you that if you're looking at story development with patience,eventually you will see the story you want as a long term investment than it was worthwhile in the end.
Need a Quick Screenplay In A Month? If you really need a script in a short time you can hire me but don't expect the quality to be extraordinary. 1.The minimum window that I will crunch and push out a script for a two hour long screenplay is 2-3 months. 2. If you need a rough feature length screenplay under an hour long or close to it in a month time. The price is $1650.
Short Stories I can provide short stories in a short amount of time. You can look in the flash fiction section below for examples of what you might be getting. My pay rate for those are 0.10/a word.
SIDE NOTE: Most things you probably love were delayed or rewritten more than you'd like to think. I believe that's a big part of why they succeeded.
Fun Fact: Toy Story, the original finished script story for the movie, based off the critically acclaimed short "Tin Toy" had to get thrown out.
The most important lesson I've learned these past years is that good writing takes time and great writing takes even longer. My focus is to find a price for the both of us AND a time window that is close to what you want but also is realistic to me. We can work together to find a way somehow to give our project its legs.
(work samples below.)
Looking forward to hearing from any of you and taking on the beast of creativity. Sincerely, Ronald Payne.
Portfolio
Recent Commission Novel Chapter Sample:
Red Wolf Running
Format: Novel Sample
Summary: A guilty werewolf fights his own urges while investigating a growing vampire syndicate in a blizzard stricken New Orleans in 1899.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Hasg7Hi1lGZXs4iFBN_4E-Y_uYmpGwtxUfSGqGiKh8E/edit
Screenplay:(Format: Sci-fi, Adventure)
Derrion Marks of The New War Mongers.
Summary: A retired pilot adjusting to probationary life on his home world receives a probe from a war mongering planet that he can't refuse until tragedy strikes.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1YwWy337V_UdrXy-WdZ2Rt-ZSNV-90wJw/view?usp=sharing
Commission: Adult Dark Dystopic/Comedy Sci-fi Pilot:
Age of Terry
Summary: A metal loving IT guy turned apocalypse witness struggles with the destruction of earth while being jettisoned into a new life.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1vlxnJt4ePMwLUeTimWi3-_6ubO0gpdw-/view?usp=sharing
Short Story
James Spade & The Underlings
Summary:A courageous spelunker searching for hope discovers the treacherous corrupting secrets of the ancient South American crypt of Centalama.
https://bythedock.wordpress.com/2021/06/20/james-spade-and-the-underlings/
Novella Work
An except from a 66 page novella I'm publishing soon.
Doubles
Summary: A man believes his wife to be somebody else. She seems different and while he doesn't know why, or who hired her. He also doesn't know why he's feeling compelled to want to see it out till the end.
Novella Chapter: https://bythedock.wordpress.com/2021/06/22/my-wife-is-not-my-wife-doubles-part-1noirthrillersci-fi/?preview=true

1) Put the commands that you used to do these into a file named Permissions.txt. Create a directory called IveGotRights off LabTask3. Set its permissions to (0.25%):Read, write, and execute permission for the owner Read and write permission for the group, Read permission for others using numerical codes. Furthermore, establish that newly created files will… https://www.edulissy.org/product/this-check-is-done-using-some-simple-mathematics-1-find-out-how-deep-the-dive-will-be-in-feet/

I read the book written @ 1982-83 by John Lennon's best (childhood through adulthood) friend & fellow member of The Quarryman, Pete Shotton. I forget the name of this book but it was one of the most fun, loving books written about John Lennon I had ever read. By 1967-1968-ish, John had hired Pete to be his "P.A." (personal assistant). When Pete asked John what a "P.A." was, John said "piss artist." Well, anyway, the book seemed to be honest although clearly amatory portrayal of John & Pete's friendship from 1955-1968.
Anyway, Pete Shotton apparently lived with John and did the day-to-day errands & shopping that John was unable to do due to his fame. Again, this would've been 1966-1967ish. Pete said he and John took acid every day. Now, my personal experience & opinion of psychedelics, daily LSD is impossible. I wouldn't be able to handle it, but I never had highest-quality stuff. & I'm assuming John Lennon had the connections to get the best (i.e. strongest, purist) LSD available.
Pete Shotton said John would wake up in the morning and get a tray in bed with his tea, perhaps a small breakfast and a tab of acid. John literally dropped acid before getting out of bed in the morning (probably the best time to do it, if you're rich and have nothing else to do that day).
John himself claimed... in I think the famous 1970 Rolling Stone interview... that he took LSD 1000 times. Perhaps that's a bit over-estimated but the way Pete Shotton described it, I am guessing John tripped on LSD 200-300 times starting with his first experience (Los Angeles 1965 in L.A. on the Beatles US tour) up until probably the late summer of 1967.
Note that LSD had a negative impact on John's songwriting. Perhaps not the quality of songs ("Tomorrow Never Knows" & "I Am The Walrus" are pure psychedelic masterpieces) but the quantity. Lennon himself said he wasn't really involved in the making of Sgt. Pepper. During this period, what did John compose? Perhaps a handful of songs: Strawberry Fields, Lucy In The Sky, Mr. Kite, Baby, You're A Rich Man, Hey Bulldog. And most of these were unfinished ideas that Paul helped finish & George Martin/Geoff Emerick embellished using instrumentation & studio tricks.
They say abuse (overuse) of LSD can result in the breakdown of one's ego and assertiveness. If John had taken 100+ trips between August 1965-November 1966, this seems true. The transition of John as the alpha leader of The Beatles to Paul McCartney is obvious. I think John had great difficulty with his songwriting due to the effects of LSD. Strawberry Fields, Rich Man, Day In The Life --- all of these were incomplete ideas for which either the other Beatles or the EMI engineers (like Geoff Emerick who truly was the 5th Beatle) helped make into the masterpieces we know & love.
I do believe John was acutely aware of the negative impact LSD had on his songwriting output, especially after eschewing drugs while studying T.M. in India. That period of sobriety & relaxation (the only such period John Lennon's adult life) resulted in an explosion of creativity which is evident during The White Album sessions.
I also believe his hooking-up with Yoko Ono in Spring 1968 helped bolster John's confidence, again evident during The White Album sessions. I don't believe John used LSD as often (or enthusiastically) as he did pre-Yoko. I absolutely do believe Yoko introduced and transitioned John from psychedelics to heroin. Their heroin use was probably manageable during the White Album sessions due to John's wealth & Yoko's connections. And I suspect John fell in love with the drug, encouraging his fellow Beatles to try it. But by the fall of 1968, once his involvement in The White Album sessions ceased, John & Yoko were hanging out with a different crowd (seeing less-and-less of Paul, George & Ringo socially) and they became full-blown, needle-using junkies.
I suspect, during the making of Peter Jackson's 7-hour "The Beatles Get Back" documentary, there was intense creative conflict on how to portray J&Y's use of heroin. J&Y are junked-up nearly every day. Snorting junk is creeping into John's songwriting (Mean Mr. Mustard's ten-pound note was up his nose for a reason). During the scenes where Paul and Ringo are sitting around, waiting for John to arrive... and Paul is looking despondent... it's not because of The Beatles were breaking-up. I think Paul was genuinely concerned about John's addiction to smack. Paul knew John just didn't try a new intoxicant; he went all-in for any new substance that came his way. Paul knew John was severely hooked during the Get Back sessions and tried using the lure of Beatle fame and success to get John off smack and back into the uniquely positive relationship as a member of The Beatles. It didn't work. Heroin addiction is too powerful I think Paul pushed a little too hard, causing George to quit (albeit temporarily) and John to become adamant about Yoko being his primary life (and professional) partner.
On July 1, 1969, John (with Yoko, Julian & Kyoko) had a serious auto accident in Scotland. John and Yoko were hospitalized for a week, receiving significant stitches in their faces. Yoko allegedly injured her back but this may've been a ruse to obtain opioid pain medication. Remember, they're addicts by now. I think the accident scared John back into gaining control of their heroin use. And although no direct evidence exists, I find it impossible that, for all the money and connections John had, they weren't having overdose experiences. I bet they were. I bet by the time The Beatles reconvened for the Abbey Road sessions, John was so scared of Yoko ODing that he himself has stopped using and is monitoring Yoko's (failed) detox attempts so closely, he gets a bed moved into the studio during the making of Abbey Road. By late summer 1969, John's writing songs about quit using junk ("Cold Turkey"). Knowing John, I really think he was using his songwriting to promote quitting smack like he did for peace ("Give Peace A Chance").
One has to wonder if Yoko's multiple miscarriages during this period aren't a result of her heroin use.
J&Y's participation in psychotherapy (Arthur Janov/Primal Scream) may have been another of John's attempt to get them to stop using heroin. John tended to embrace any new radical or weird idea to improve or enhance his psyche. This is evident in his use of alcohol as a teenager, his close friendship with Stu Sutcliffe which really didn't make any sense, excess of booze & uppers in Hamburg, his close (and probably briefly sexual) friendship with Brian Epstein in 1963, lots of smoking marijuana during "Help,!" lots of LSD, his fascination with and financial support of Magic Alex, new means of creativity with Yoko Ono, his initial relief from using heroin. He even considered and discussed trepanning with Paul.
By 1972, I believe John was making great efforts to stay off heroin. They allegedly drove their green Chrysler station wagon from NY to San Francisco to try acupuncture. Why? I suspect to get Yoko to stop using junk.
The official story of John's "Lost Weekend" was crap. I think John transitioned off smack to booze & cocaine while Yoko remained a junkie. Drugs played such a huge role in their relationship, this had to have cause a rift between J&Y. John goes to L.A. with May Pang and has the most fun of his adult life he's ever had. Meanwhile, Yoko observes this from a distance, freaks out (especially when she sees the cover of his "Mind Games" LP) and probably sought professional treatment and got on methadone. I think Yoko started portraying herself as happy & sober as a ruse to get John to return to her. Her sobriety (or control of her heroin use) resulted in their reconciliation and successful pregnancy with Sean Lennon. I don't think either of them ever completely quit heroin. Fred Seeman, in his book, provides evidence of Yoko's heroin use in the late 70s (but he had an axe to grind) as well as his (& John's) use of marijuana and mushrooms. I also read where John began using smack again in the late 70s but stopped.

Hi all. Long time listener, first time caller. I'm trad-pubbed by big 5 and had an extremely subpar experience both times. I switched up genres for my next project (and now this one).
My agent is very well-regarded from a long established agency. My next book after publication (Shelved Book 1) died on sub after about a year submitting. It was a huge reach in terms of style so we knew that it might not go, but still, as we know, crushing.
I'm ready with a new book. It's high concept. (Does not have the same possible issue that Shelved Book 1 has). We did an early spin in the fall with a handful of editors, got some extremely valuable feedback, pulled from sub. Revised. Beta'd. Ready.
It's out. I'm only 3 weeks in, and I'm MELTING. I totally understand the lack of control here is what I'm melting about, but it just feels like... I had two books out there already, both of which are planted so fully in midlistland that they have not just grown roots but foundation. Then a dead book. If this one doesn't go, it feels like a waste of time for me to keep writing, but I know I WILL keep writing, so I'm mad at myself.
I'm in the On Sub group on facebook but I rarely post there to fish for info because I prefer the anonymity of this board, and now I've finally joined to post. I lurk here so regularly that I feel like I know the regular names so hello and sorry for my whining introduction!
I think what I'm actually asking for here is: Is the rumor true that things are really so much slower than usual? How long have people been waiting in the last 6-18 months for decent deals? (Also I'm fully aware 3 weeks is not slow.)

I had an interview with Monique Pym from RELIQA last week to discuss the upcoming release of their phenomenal debut album, Secrets of the Future (out May 31st).
Here are some of the main takeaways from our chat:
From High School Garage Band to Nuclear Blast Signees
"It's kind of a fun fact that we're actually a high school band. I'm so surprised that it's such a rarity these days. We're all quite some years out of high school now, but all of us [have] known each other since we were about 12-13 years old... We did have a different drummer, his name was Shannon. As we were coming up, all five of us including Ben were all high school friends. So it's all very in the family with Reliqa.
We started the way any band starts really, you know, just like being loser teenagers jamming in the garage and stuff like that. The difference, I suppose, is that we grew out--I hope--of our loser phase. And I mean, we're still losers (laughs), but we grew out of a lot of stuff and we started taking it a bit more seriously. Small gigs turned to interstate gigs turned to touring turned to [where] we are now sort of thing, and it was all a very natural progression for us."
That's a Rap: Taking Inspiration from Doja Cat
"As some people know, if you've listened to our music, I like to rap. AI do try to follow a lot of artists who just have that very natural flow to them. There's something so conversational about [Doja Cat's] "Attention," which I think came out right in the heart of the writing process of 'Secrets of the Future'. And so if I was writing a rap, or writing some lyrics that were going to lean into like sort of faster, more speaky, talky vocals, I would constantly come back to that song and constantly come back to Doja [Cat].
I just thought it's such great storytelling and she's got such a competence behind her that I admire so much. It's just sick and I would gladly make music like that, but there's also some beauty to taking a song that's so not like metal and weaving it into something heavy. That's sort of the goal there."
Finding Their Signature Sound
"We made a few experiments happen in the songwriting process for the album. And what resulted is something that I think... goes on quite naturally from the diversity of our sound; the natural diversity that we like to sort of chase in our music, but it is a lot more sure of itself. And we have a lot of competence in that sound now, and hopefully, we're sort of developing something quite signature.
It'll take a few years to know what that signature really is. Because, of course, a signature is defined as well by the fans who receive it and how they react to it. And of course, we're still quite early in our career. So it's hard to know what that signature is, but what we're creating feels quite signature, and I think that we're gonna stick with this for some time and see where it takes us."
TL;DR: Monique rules and her choice of influences (Spiritbox, System of a Down, Void of Vision, King 810, Deadlights, and more) were super interesting. RELIQA's debut LP bangs and they're destined for big things.
Listen to our full chat here (Spotify).

Week 1: Introduction to Poetry and Sonnets
Day 1: Overview of Poetry Styles - Activity: Icebreaker - Introduce yourself through a poetic name acrostic. - Lecture: Brief history of poetry, introduction to various styles. - Discussion: What draws you to poetry? Share your favorite poems.
Day 2: Understanding Sonnets - Activity: Analyze a classic sonnet together. - Lecture: Explanation of sonnet structure (Shakespearean and Petrarchan). - Discussion: Share initial impressions and feelings about sonnets.
Day 3: Writing Exercise - Crafting a Sonnet - Activity: Break down sonnet structure with examples. - Assignment: Write a sonnet exploring a personal experience or emotion. - Vocabulary Words: Quatrain, Couplet, Volta.
Day 4: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for sonnets. - Lecture: Discuss common challenges and strategies in sonnet writing. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' work.
Day 5: Recap and Reflection - Activity: Reflect on the week's lessons and exercises. - Lecture: Overview of upcoming weeks. - Assignment: Write a short reflection on what you've learned about poetry and sonnets.
Study Guide Questions for Week 1: 1. What is the basic structure of a sonnet? 2. Compare and contrast Shakespearean and Petrarchan sonnets. 3. How does the volta contribute to the meaning of a sonnet? 4. Discuss the role of rhyme and meter in sonnets. 5. Explore your personal connection to poetry. What emotions or themes resonate with you?
Quiz: A short quiz assessing understanding of sonnet structure, key terms, and the historical context of poetry.
Week 2: Embracing Haiku and Villanelle
Day 1: Understanding Haiku - Activity: Analyze classic haikus. - Lecture: Explain the traditional structure and themes of haikus. - Discussion: Share thoughts on the simplicity and depth of haikus.
Day 2: Crafting Haikus - Activity: Write haikus individually. - Lecture: Discuss the significance of nature in haikus. - Discussion: Share and discuss individual haikus.
Day 3: Unraveling the Villanelle - Activity: Analyze a famous villanelle. - Lecture: Explore the structure and repetition in villanelles. - Discussion: Discuss the impact of repeated lines on the overall theme.
Day 4: Writing Exercise - Composing a Villanelle - Activity: Break down the process of crafting a villanelle. - Assignment: Write a villanelle on the theme of memory or loss. - Vocabulary Words: Tercet, Refrain, Envoi.
Day 5: Peer Review and Feedback - Activity: Peer review workshop for villanelles. - Lecture: Discuss the challenges and beauty of crafting repetitive forms. - Discussion: Share insights gained from reviewing peers' villanelles.
Study Guide Questions for Week 2: 1. What defines a haiku? Discuss its structure and thematic elements. 2. Explore the cultural significance of nature in haikus. 3. What is the structure of a villanelle, and how does repetition contribute to its impact? 4. Discuss the emotions evoked by repeated lines in a villanelle. 5. Reflect on the process of crafting a villanelle. What challenges did you face?
Quiz: Assessment on the understanding of haikus, villanelles, and the effective use of repetition in poetry.

For decades, a man came into our library every Friday and borrowed five movies. Seems normal. Our patron account system allows for patrons to request up to 15 items at a time. This fella always had that list full. He would call every Monday night and have a list of titles to see if we had any of them. On Thursday he would call to see what had come in from his list and then he would add stuff to his request list. Seems fairly normal. Over the years, though, he added to this habit. He would watch the DVDs and write down the movies in the trailers and add them to his list. At one point he had an entire three-ring binder with movies in it, and each Monday night, he would call and go through the list, looking for movies we might have at any of our branches. This human had no computer, no cell phone, no credit card or debit card. He had nothing from the modern era, though he wasn't elderly or anything. He just didn't have any of those things. So he couldn't go onto our system and look for himself. At one point, he would request so many purchases of films that our DVD buyer wound up getting the policy officially changed so no one could request more than three purchases per half year. Also, most of the movies our friend wanted were absolutely crap. Finally, one of my colleagues taught this fella how to use our public computer system. So when he came on Fridays to get his five movies, he would go over, log on and access our "New This Month" feature, and add any to the request list. But then he started calling on Monday nights to ask about what number he was on each movie; i.e. what number he was in the queue for the popular movies. Over the years—I add this with due consideration for patron privacy—I got so good at knowing when to expect him to call (because I worked on Monday nights) and so was regularly accustomed to what he needed that I memorized his library card number. This went on for years. He knew all of us by name. Knew who was working when, and even had a sense of who was best to help him. He would offer to call back for new people "until you're trained how I like it". Then, about four months ago, out of nowhere, our man's sister (he did not drive, either, so she brought him always) called to say that he wouldn't be coming in for his movies and to take everything off hold. So we did.
For longer than ever, our friend hasn't come by. He hasn't been anywhere. Not at the mall (a familiar and favorite haunt), not at the library. Nowhere. He's completely vanished. He doesn't call. This is the longest he's ever been without anything in his request list. We have poured through obituaries and asked around people who might know him. Nothing. Anywhere. He's just gone.
This isn't unusual. We usually are pretty slow to realize people have stopped coming. One day, one of us goes, "Have you guys seen __________?" But in this case, our man was such a fixture, such a pronounced participant in the quotidian workings of our library that everyone knew him or about him.
Has this ever happened to you all?

Hi, This is about a girl(19) I've been talking to(I met her on reddit), I bonded with her and she's opened up a lot. She's from a village in Pune, and her family hence sent her out to study in Pune at around 11 yo at her uncle's as her mom fought with her dad that they really need to give her education. The dad has never been, and is not in favour of her education at all. This Pune uncle once visited them, and when she was 11, she was raped inside her own house by her uncle. She came out of the room bleeding, her mom saw her and said dad can't find out about this and cleaned her up. Her dad did find out and said it was HER fault that this happened.
In Pune, she was sent to study, stay the house of this uncle, she was raped every night for 5 years, she sent letters to her family telling them what was happening, her family didn't respond even a single day, they threw away all the letters and none exist now. (As I'm writing this, I can't explain how shocked and angry I feel towards these so called "parents", and I can't even imagine how this girl gathered the courage to open up to me and tell, and get through all of this). She started self harming in these years, and once her uncle saw, and tied her up himself and cut her on the wrist. This self harm is a habit that's she's used as a coping mechanism to this date.
After her school education was over, her dad wanted to marry her off to this very uncle. She fought with him and her mother too fought with her dad(you can imagine what the dad must have done to the mom for this), but the dad sent her to a law school in Mumbai, in exchange for her agreeing to marry this uncle when the law school gets over. Since then, she's continued to self harm and attempted suicide twice, as she's been experiencing repeated nightmares about those years in Pune. She has tried medicines but she overdosed on them once because she couldn't bear the nightmares. She's currently surviving doing a grocery store job along with college, paying her own rent and expenses.
Recently, her parents found out she was talking to me as her brother who lives in Mumbai too saw it and told them. She was told to come back to the village and there she was forced to meet multiple people for marriage, some even 28 year old! The uncle too was there, she didn't tell me any details but she told me about her bruised arm because the uncle grabbed it really hard, and that she slapped him. The dad told her to leave the house, she left at 4am in the night, walked on the road, got a hotel with her job's money, and has since gotten drunk repeatedly at these times in the middle of the road. She's told me she wishes to die, as soon as possible, but she's not doing it right now because of me having an exam soon which she doesn't want to "ruin".
I stay by her, I try to give her support, we talk whenever she needs me, but I live in Delhi and I can only do so much from here. I want to incriminate these parents, that uncle, everyone around her, and maybe also try to save her. But she's told me no personal details, I just have her phone number and her full name and her city, not even her college, or her friend's details, or her instagram, nothing.
What can I do to help? Because what I'm doing doesn't seem like it'll be enough.
TLDR- Daughter's been raped and abused by family to the point she doesn't want to live anymore, and has her mind set on suicide.

If you could write a character based on yourself to play a minor role in any one of the games (including the Layton crossover), how do you see yourself fitting in to that universe?
When I was younger, I dreamed of having a job that used my voice. Radio, voice acting, whatever. So I would cast myself in 2-3 as the PA announcer for the Berry Big Circus, except I'm a teenager with a surprisingly mature voice. But I'm not participating in the shenanigans that the rest of the circus members do, I'm a loner and very standoffish.
My fictional name would be Preston Atwater, but my friends call me P.A.
JFA came out when I was in my teens, so this would work out perfectly.
Please don't give out personal information when doing this