As I've been working I've noticed that things keep circling back to my past negative experiences - A higher level supervisor reminding me of my psychotic step-dad in the way he puts standards on us that no other supervisor does. - coworkers constantly joking around with each other while I'm trying to focus and work, much like high schoolers who would rather make noise and tease me while I struggle to get work done It always seems I can't concentrate on what I'm doing because my mind always brings up the past things that bothered me. Is this a common thing?

I tried to get advice on this and stick to my principles by not offering an apology when not in the wrong, but I think it's become clear that I FU'd and I could have prevented this with a better attitude...
I [18f] live with my parents, and we moved last year away from a big city to a cheaper more rural community in the Midwest, since my dad's retired now and money goes further here, to finish up my last year of high school. We have by far the smallest lot out here, but most of our "neighbors" are farmers with quite a bit of land.
I don't feel like I fit in well with the neighbors and have had some arguments with some of them and their kids. They're up early making noise every morning with farm machinery, yelled at me for listening to rap music loud in the car late at night (it was only 9 or so) with a friend from high school, and most recently they let one of their cows get into our yard when it was grazing while I was out in the backyard, and I gave them a dirty look and stood there while they tried to get it back.
Recently I guess he talked to my dad and gave him some sort of redneck "we don't take kindly" speech about my "behavior" and that wasn't how things operated round these parts, and for me to apologize.
So my dad asked me to, but I refused, because I think they're in the wrong towards me. I saw him out back one day and he asked me if I had anything to say about my attitude, and I said "I haven't done anything wrong to you, I just think you should respect other people's property boundaries." So he said "alright, have it your way" and walked off.
Well...
Dad and I left town for spring break, but when we came back we noticed construction was heavily under way (almost complete) on a large shed structure right up against the property line, maybe 20 feet from our house.
My mom asked a woman who lives a bit further down if they knew what it was about, and they said "oh, yeah...guess the word is that they've had some trouble with your daughter and they've made the decision to put in a pig barn."
My parents freaked out, asked around and heard this was a known tactic to drive out unwanted neighbors and very effective...dad called the city and asked about odor nuisance laws and what can be done, but was told the area is "zoned agricultural" and that it was more of an "honor-system" thing that farmers wouldn't do that without more land, but technically he was allowed to have up to 200 pigs on the property...he asked the neighbor if he would reconsider but he said that the order of pigs is already scheduled and his mind was made up.
Now my dad is furious with me, and frantic about what to do. At first I told him to just ignore it and let them do what they're gonna do, but from the people I've talked to online they're saying that's probably not going to be a possibility for us. I thought he was overreacting at first but now I'm facing the prospect that I really did crash the value of their property for good and that we're all about to be very miserable.
They finished construction on the barn so I guess the moment of truth is coming.
TL;DR Provoked a farmer neighbor in this agriculturally-zoned area, about to get 200 new oinking neighbors.

Hi y’all, (28/M)
I am new here and I might have developed sibo. I am visiting my GP this Thursday but I need some advice.
1.symptoms First little background, I had some digestive issue in September 2022 and my doc gave me Align Probiotic. It worked for few months as it help me with ibs symptoms but every since late January things went down hill. I have now developed: loose stools that smell, burns and float (malabsorption I think), gassy intestines that make noises if I intake gluten or lactose, I lost 10-15 pounds since late Jan, and losing hair.

1. Diagnoses I did my cbc blood test before this appeared(mid Jan) and was all good except my alt were slightly high. Now on coming Thursday should I ask for scopes and GI? Or just GI first

3.DIET for now Should I cut out gluten and dairy? I know about low fodmap so I’ll try that.
Any advice pls as I am stressed now

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Chapter 107 – A Patron Saint
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“[…] with the leadership of many territories claiming that the muted response to the thread is once again a blatant showing of the Community-Leadership’s clear bias against Deathworld affairs. Loratexach Echtsesimm, the current leader of the united Lachaxet territories, even went so far as to call it, quote: “A kick to the face for all those of us seeking to live in a peaceful unity.” Meanwhile other deathworld groups, like the occupants of the only known Class V deathworld, the Ligormordillar, are trying to quell the conflict and urge their fellow deathworlders to make a measured response, pointing to the lack of any concrete evidence when it comes to the recent events, and asking to give authorities a bit more time to investigate things. However, the accusations of corruptions that emerged in the last quarter have many people questioning how much the current Acting Galactic Council can truly be trusted with the investigations, and calls for the addition of independent investigations are becoming louder,” an Urounaek news caster professionally read off the seemingly endless lines of texts on her teleprompter, while b-footage of recordings of the sitting governments of a diverse number of species played in the background. “Surprisingly, humanity, the largest accuser of corruption in the Galactic Council as well as a front runner in the proclaimed fight for the extended rights of people and especially deathworlders that feel ousted by the Community, and also one of the Myiat’s currently closest military allies, have so far made no official statements or press-releases about the incidents, apart from damming the attack as a violation of intragalactic law as well as the laws of war.”
James passively allowed himself to be doused by the white noise of the TV that Shida had basically been glued to for the last days while he checked through his messages and mails on his phone and laptop. Of course, any of his addresses and contacts that had at some point been public in some way had been absolutely bombarded with a torrent of spam, threats, offerings, accusations, and even more spam. It was a daunting task to sift through all of the messages in an attempt to pick out the few of them that could possibly be useful every day, especially since those were extremely few and far in between, however, he still did it. On the one hand, he did it because he felt that it was his duty to leave nothing untried, no stone unturned, and no resource unused in these dire times they found themselves in. On the other hand, it was a quite time- and labor-intensive yet still comparatively easy task that he could easily waste away hours with without feeling like he was being unproductive.
Of course, all the really important messages he received would be forwarded to him through his more secure contacts that just select people had access to, and therefore the things he did find in his private messages were usually rather menial in comparison, however it was still something.
His hopes of not feeling so left out and abandoned anymore now that shit had thoroughly hit the fan had sadly been short-lived, as it quickly became clear that any broadcasts and statements to the outside world when it come to the topic at hand would be made by actual diplomatic professionals and not by-circumstance Ambassadors that had basically stumbled into their role.
…Which was honestly fair enough, James had to admit. Certainly, people who did this for a living had a much lower chance of screwing everything up and making things even worse than they already were than he did.
However, that did little to quell the nervous and anxious energy within him that just begged to be released in some productive way.
“While official governmental replies are being released by the hundreds by individual species, many collaborative political groups have also proclaimed their intentions to react to the current tensions caused by the attack on Dunnima. For example, many order-collaborations have been sending out invitations for emergency-conferences to possibly discuss a united reaction and collaborative measures to help ease the Galactic Tensions between their members; among others, the collaborative councils of the Tetsudines, Psittacines, Corvids, Hymenoptera, Canines, Skitellifera, Estotsucuvae, and Primates will be gathering within the week to discuss possible measures. Additionally, for the first time in about 12 uniform years, a recently founded, provisional ‘council of deathworlders’ is also inviting possible participants to a first conference, after having reportedly struggled to find an adequate venue for such an event for a few uniform months. This council is the thought-child of representatives of the Lachaxet, Ligormordillar, Roosh’gaack, and Teracheponn territories, who are now trying to get representatives of as many deathworlds as possible to take part in it, claiming it as an important step towards future collaborations between the so-designated worlds and people.”
“I wonder who they’re going to invite,” Shida commented as she tensely leaned forwards and absorbed the news with great concentration, her ears opening widely to not miss a single detail. Inside, she was just as rearing to go as James was. But just like him, she was also bound to the orders they were being given.
So far, they had both not been called in to reinforce the fleets that were either stationed to more intensely control the borders of their own unified borders or sent out into the cosmos to reinforce the myiat’s defenses after the first attack. However, the military base in Lorraine that they had been staying at for a while now had certainly become a lot emptier ever since the attack, leaving basically only instructors, very fresh recruits and essential personnel behind. And themselves, of course.
The constant tramping of boots outside of their doors had been replaced by an eerie emptiness, and their regular trainings-sessions that they had along with other occupants had also run dry, as most of the people on a similar level to them had received orders to move. And working with actual trainees didn’t exactly have a lot of appeal to it either.
“They have plenty of options,” James mumbled while his eyes flew across rows and rows of recently received mails, going back hour by hour that he had slept while sifting through piles and piles of junk.
Finishing off with the mail-service he had used during his Uni-days without having found anything of note, he then switched over to the next tab, where he had opened his miraculously still not out of service work-mail that had been assigned to him during his in hindsight very brief time of working on the G.E.S.-32.
He had no idea why exactly it was still in service, but as long as he received messages to it, he was going to check them, even if so far, this had by far been the least useful of his addresses when it came to receiving any messages of actual note.
And indeed, it was once again basically all junk.
Spam, a death threat, a very angry email from a former coworker, spam, more threats, a clearly fake solicitation from some firm he had never heard of, some news-channel trying to get an interview with him, spam, another news channel, spam, even more threats, spa-
He paused for a moment as his cursor hovered over a mail he had apparently received about five hours ago, that had the very brief and uninformative title of
“You are invited.”
Usually, he would’ve almost instantly disregarded it as clearly some form of spam, however after what he had just heard on the news, it made him raise an eyebrow and quickly check the address it was sent from.
Lifting the eyebrow even further as he saw an actual, official government address, he clicked on the mail to open it up. Slowly, his eyes read over the neat lines of text that had been revealed to him, his eyes getting wider and expression becoming more confused and disgruntled by the moment.
Was this a joke?
“What’s up?” Shida asked, apparently having noticed his expression changing, and just as anxious to do something as he was, she immediately stood up and walked over to him to glance at his screen while her tail swiftly flailed through the air. “One of the threats getting too personal?”
James shifted his lips as he gathered his thoughts to reply.
“No, I was invited to one of those conferences,” he said, and his eyes quickly double-checked if this invitation was actually addressed towards him and hadn’t just accidentally landed with the wrong person by some sort of blunder.
Shida glanced at him in mild confusion, her yellow eyes scanning over his face while trying to read his thoughts from it.
“The Deathworld one? That’s not surprising, is it?” she commented with a flick of her ears, before pressing up to his side a bit closer so she could lower herself in a position that would allow her to more easily peek at his mails. “Not only are you a deathworlder, you’ve also been a pretty public figure when it comes to the public fight for more rights. Hell, you probably inspired them to found that whole thing in a way, so of course they want you along for the ride.”
James scoffed slightly and turned his screen so she could look at it.
“Well, if it was that, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said and waited a second for Shida to read, seeing her face also slowly turn into a more confused one as she realized what the invitation he had received was for, before he added, “But this is from the council of primates.”
Shida looked at the message for a little longer before turning only her eyes towards him.
“What the hell do they want?” she asked with clear distrust in her voice. James just shrugged.
“A trap? Appeasement? Publicity? Options are numerous,” he said with an exhausted exhale before switching the tab yet again to log into his ‘professional’ mail services, copy-pasting the text of the invitation before forwarding it to a pre-prepared list of people that should probably be informed about this.
Shida hissed through her teeth and stood up straight again.
“Are you going?” she asked, crossing her arms and glancing down at him.
“If I have a say in this? Absolutely,” James replied after hammering the ‘send’ button. Anything to get out of here and do something at this point. Besides, it would probably give him the opportunity to give some people some serious stern talkings to. “Buuuuut you know how this goes.”
“We should keep an eye open who else might get invited to something,” Shida commented after acknowledging his reply with a huff but not responding to it. James nodded. In his periphery, he noticed how Shida’s fingers were starting to dig into her arms as her grip likely inadvertently tightened, and he reached out to rub his hand against her side, wordlessly aiding her with relaxing.
“They have plenty of options,” he repeated his earlier statement as he opened the invitation one more time.
“You are invited.
James Aldwin, Ambassador of Earth by community tradition, you have been officially invited to the emergency conference of the council of primates. Given recent events, the council has decided it is imperative to coordinate a response among the members of our esteemed order.
As humanity has so far not had a representative in the council of primates, it has been decided to extend an invitation to you for this conference. This invitation officially grants you access to the venue on Nedstaniot-Station and makes you eligible for a support-fund covering the traveling costs for you and an accompanying group of up to ten (10) companions of your choosing.
Should you accept this invitation, please contact us under one of the council of primate’s official addresses to receive access data to the necessary accounts as well as a detailed plan of the venue and scheduled events.
Should you not accept this invitation, a message of your declining is not strictly necessary, but always welcome to aid in planning.
I hope this message finds you well and am looking forward to possibly meeting you at the venue.
Sincerely
Klanneifer FF of the Tiasonko.
Success to you!”
Well, if they weren’t going to regret that…
​
--
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Alexander clutched the necklace around his neck tightly as he looked into the mirror, taking deep breaths to quell his nerves.
Yes, he was nervous. Extremely so in fact. He thought that he would be excited previously, but now that the time had come, he could feel only the nerves.
Well, maybe that was understandable. Something like this really didn’t happen every day, after all.
“God, give me strength,” he prayed silently with his hands clutching the symbol of his faith even tighter.
Then, he took a minute to, one last time, check if his hair was in place and his robes were immaculate. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself on an occasion like this, after all. His own blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror sternly. Scrutinizing. As if he was judging himself. And he should. After all it was a big day. Taking a moment to judge oneself was important in moments such as this, lest you get complacent and started to make the wrong choices.
Soon after, there was a knock at the door.
“Father Mokoena is beginning his sermon, Alexander,” a muffled voice said from the other side. “You should be ready for when you are called upon.”
Alexander exhaled deeply and took one last look at the mirror, his gaze wandering from his own eyes down to the pendant around his neck.
“I’m on my way,” he then assured the Brother waiting outside, before stepping away from the dresser with a flourishing movement of his robes.
As he stepped out of the cloakroom, brother Anders slightly bowed to him, before stretching out a robed arm to guide him in the right direction. The brother was of the older sort, yet he had held his body in a shape worthy of a temple. Thinning and greying rose-blond hair did little to distract from that, as his wide frame could easily be spotted even through the loosely fitting robes.
A man of devotion in more than one way.
Alexander moved in a slow and measured way, his head held high, as Brother Anders guided him through the branched and tight back hallways of the old theater that they were holding today’s sermon in. As they got closer to the stage, Alexander could already hear the booming voice of father Mokoena as he addressed the masses from his place on the stage. It was no microphone he heard there, no amplifiers or other speakers. Only the impeccable voice of a devoted preacher.
Despite his age, the man had pipes like the largest organ, and still he was speaking at a volume that Alexander wasn’t used to from him. Inhaling deeply, he swallowed for a moment. Hopefully the people would even be able to hear him when he spoke. He certainly couldn’t bellow like the father could. Then again, this was a theater. Maybe his voice would be carried further by the acoustics than he anticipated.
It was rare for him to speak in a place like this, after all.
For a moment, Alexander thought about houses of faith. All the temples, churches, mosques, synagogues and whatever else he had visited throughout his life. Their large, marbled halls. Their magnificent decorations. The instruments and loudspeakers and all the other tools they were equipped with for impressive…performances.
That is what he had always called them. Performances. All those people just playing at faith while all they truly worship was their own selfishness.
And yet here he stood in the backrooms of a theater, watching as a father Mokoena gave a sermon on a literal stage and waiting for his cue to join him in the spotlight. What ironic twists fate could take.
The theater had been the most sensible option of a place that was for rent for one night and also held enough seats for this many people to come together. Still, he wondered if maybe they should have swallowed the tougher pill and looked for something else. For his liking, this was a bit too close to making a mockery of the event. The ‘houses of God’ may have been a sinful sham, but was this really much better?
Still, what was done was done. And while reflecting on past mistakes was certainly a virtue, getting stuck on them was most decidedly not. They were here now, so they would use what they had.
He and Anders finally came to a halt right at the side of the stage, hidden behind the large, red curtain that could be used to cut the stage off from view. Of course, today, it would stay wide open for the entire time, allowing everyone to witness.
“Are you nervous?” Brother Anders quietly asked him, leaning in close to whisper so there was no chance of his voice leaking out and disturbing the Father’s sermon.
Alexander smirked in slight anxiousness.
“Of course, I am,” he confessed honestly. “It’s not every day you get to make proclamations this weighty…or enemies this powerful.”
“Are you afraid of them?” Anders then asked with an almost pitiful look at Alexander, who sighed deeply.
“Of course, I am,” he confessed yet again. “I’d be a fool not to be.”
The task before him was grand, and his foes, in a way, even grander. There was a reason that the realized that had plagued Earth once upon a time had taken the name of heaven’s general for itself. They were powerful. And they knew it.
And that was not even mentioning the force of Earth’s armies, that could turn against them on a whim of fate. Masters over the forces of nature. The undisputed leaders of destructive power. Those who had managed to best such a powerful being before.
Yes, he was afraid. But overcoming fear was a virtue as well.
Meanwhile, the sermon was starting to whip up into a louder cadence, as Father Mokoena seemingly began to introduce the important part of the evening.
“[…] Many years has he studied and prayed and silence, following the will of our Lord by standing by and reflecting. Keeping humble. Keeping modest. And he has developed into a fine man of faith. Eighteen years of serving and studying under our faith, hidden away in the dark and obscure, waiting for the event that would catalyze his becoming! Now it has finally come. And with it came the time for him to step out into the light! Please welcome with me, oh children of the Lord, our newest ‘Guide’! Guide Alexander Paige!” the Father loudly announced and lifted his arm in the direction of where Alexander still stood out of sight. The bald head of the dark-skinned man reflected the spotlights above while his modest robes swung around from the energetic movement.
Meanwhile, Alexander took a deep, calming breath.
“Best of luck, Guide Alexander,” he could hear Brother Anders next to him say, and he respectfully bowed to the man before advancing out of the shadows and into the light.
His eyes narrowed strongly, and he had to resist the urge to lift his hand in order to protect them from the blinding light that now blared down on him. Of course, he did his best to keep his respectful and reverent expression before the Father, however he wasn’t quite able to entirely resist the pain of the rays stinging into his sight. Still, he advanced with quick yet collected steps all the way up to the side of the Father.
“Don’t scream,” he told himself as he prepared his throat for how loud he would have to talk to be heard in a place such as this. The lights were so bright and the rest of the room so dark that he couldn’t see those listening to him, but he still knew they were there. Hundreds of them. Another failure of this chosen venue. He couldn’t even see the faces of those that would listen to his words. How could he claim to speak to them if he couldn’t even look them in the eyes?
Well, it was too late now.
“Thank you, Father,” Alexander loudly announced as he had finally reached the man, and he did his best to talk as loudly as possible without it escalating into shouts. It was hard to gauge how far his voice carried in this room, and he silently prayed that he would be understood.
The Father then reached out his arm, offering his old, worn hand to Alexander. Alexander reciprocated the gesture, taking the Father’s hand with his right, while positioning his left underneath, pressing its palm up against the father’s wrist. Meanwhile, the father lowered his left onto Alexander’s wrist from above, holding his hand as if he was blessing it.
“Alexander!” Father Mokoena loudly greeted him, and Alexander almost flinched at the intensity of his voice up close. If that was what it took to be heard around here, then his own words would merely come across as a whimper. He truly hoped that the old preacher was just overdoing it with his enthusiasm. “You have finally found your treacherous sea, it seems!”
“Indeed,” Alexander replied and really just couldn’t measure up to the Father’s incredible voice no matter how he tried. What an impressive organ. “And I am prepared to guide my fellow men through it, towards safer ventures.”
“And the Lord shall bless your path!” the Father proclaimed, before taking his hands off of Alexander’s again.
“May the Lord bless your path,” a gentle echo came from the unseen crowd.
“And yours as well,” Alexander replied quickly, having almost forgotten to do so given the stressful situation.
The Father nodded deeply, before stepping away from Alexander and in front of the crowd again for a second, as he raised his arms high and declared,
“Tell us about your treacherous path, Guide Alexander, so we veer from it with you!”
Then, with another flourishing movement of his robes, he stepped back and aside, leaving Alexander basically alone in front of the many unseen eyes watching him.
Even after years of waiting, he wasn’t truly prepared for this. For the briefest of moments, he imagined just walking off. But no. He had to do this. This is what he had lived for. His entire life up until now had led up to this moment.
“I am telling you all no secret when I say that the recent times have been turmoil filled ones,” he began to speak, getting right to the matter at hand without any greetings or big introductions. The air around him felt heavy, and the room was so quiet whenever he didn’t speak that he could hear the lights above softly buzzing with electricity. The old wood under his feet gently cracked whenever he shifted his weight, and he was sure that it could be heard all the way up in the top rows whenever it happened. “As all of you who have come together here know, we stand in front of a huge danger. You do not need a guide to tell you that treading in the domain of a realized leads to peril. Such an affront needs no explanation on my side.”
He swallowed heavily, truly hoping that they had not all come together to hear him proclaim that he would guide them against the A.I.
That was simply no task for a Guide. Yet hopefully the others understood this as well and did not think that he was avoiding the threat in order to pick an easier mission for himself. After all, he would still gain its ire with his words, he was sure, even if it was not his declared danger.
Swallowing again, he continued,
“No, I am here today to talk with you about something else. About someone else. Someone whose words have touched many; and influenced even more. A man who was thrust into conflict against his will. Hurtled into the chaos, he fought, and the galaxy shook before him. A man known to the entire Galaxy obviously needs no introduction, but I would still like to take a moment to list James Aldwin’s achievements to give you a better picture of what I am talking about. Before his life was thrust into conflict, he used to dedicate his time to the improvement of life. He took some of nature’s gifts, and he used them to make new things that would aide people in need. Medicine was his claimed goal, and although he never got to reach that state, he had the clear intention to make life easier for many with his inventions, caring little for where they came from. Then, after his life changed for the worse, his focus shifted. Instead of trying to safe the ill somewhere in the future, he instead dedicated himself to saving people right here and now.”
Talking himself up into a bit of a frenzy, Alexander began to walk back and forth on the stage without even fully realizing that he was doing it. The blinding spotlights were still turning everything that wasn’t the stage into a dark, blocked out void. Night had been separated from day, and he was standing in the sun.
“He turned his focus onto those he thought to be like him,” he explained, starting to make wide gestures with his arms that caused his robe to move in flowing downward waves, embellishing his movements even further. “Those whose lives had been thrown into chaos through no doing of their own. Those born into it. Those ousted. Those who felt ‘othered’ by the world. The pariahs. He promised them acceptance, with little care for who they were.”
He then stopped his pacing for a moment to fully face the crowd, his gaze turning upwards so they would all be able to see it.
“Even when faced with one of our world’s greatest calamities asking him to take it in, he did not cave,” Alexander proclaimed, and he could feel himself tapping into potential of his lungs that he didn’t know he had within him, as his voice boomed throughout the theater. “Despite knowing of the danger in his path, he walked it all the way. Truly, what kind of man is it that will turn no one away? What kind of man who puts himself on the wayside to help others? What kind of man that cares not for who or how?”
“A Saint!” a booming echo came back from the crowd, and Alexander could feel the vibrations of their roar beneath his feet as it rolled over him.
“Indeed,” he replied to the people. “After seeing the path he walked, I say that his actions are worthy of nothing less than sanctity!”
A sound came back from the crowd that was hard to describe. It was neither jeering nor cheering, but something entirely in between. A deep rumble that filled the air with almost nonsensical noise as it escaped the mouths of hundreds of people who reacted to his declaration.
Alexander now lifted his arms in a wide arch, as if he wanted to beckon the crowd into an embrace.
“By the Ministry of the Church of the Failed Savior, bestowed upon me as your new Guide, I hereby proclaim James Aldwin as the Patron of Realized Sapience!” he loudly declared, and the noise of the crowd picked up in intensity.
He took a deep breath while letting the sound slowly fade out, although he didn’t wait for the people to be completely quiet before he let his arms sink again and continued in a milder tone.
“Sanctity is a dangerous path,” he said as he began to slowly pace along the stage again, this time with collected, measured movements. “The Saints walk it, and they invite all who will to follow. They do not warn them of the danger. In fact, they encourage all to face it. Proclaiming their path as the right one, they tell all who follow to not stray from it, no matter the danger. It is a dangerous thing indeed, such a Saint.”
He stopped again, but this time, he didn’t face the crowd. Turned to the side, he stared straight ahead, his eyes fixating on a part of the folded, red curtains while his mind went to a different place.
“Saint Aldwin believes himself to walk the right path, and nothing is holy to him, neither on Earth nor in Heaven, man made or God given, but that which allows him to follow it,” he said, still loud, but a lot more restrained in emotion. “He believes himself to be a protector. A shepherd. A…savior.”
This time, the jeering of the crowd was palpable, as the ground once again shook with it. Any sense of good will had disappeared from the noise.
Now, Alexander waited for it to completely die down. Calm and quietly, he stood there without moving a muscle for minutes on end while the sound gradually faded out.
Only when he could have heard a pin drop in the enormous room did he speak up again.
“As your new Guide, I promise to show you the way to the safe road. I promise to disarm traps and sweep away obstacles in your way. I promise to keep my sight on the destination, and to always point you in the right direction should you stay. And…” he paused for a moment to take a deep breath, before he continued louder than before, lifting his head high as he did so. “And I promise to veer you off the paths of all the Saints and Doomed to Fail Saviors who would have you walk with them into hell!”
A cheering broke out in the crowd, going so far that some of the people began to drum their feet on the ground in a wild, rhythmless thunder.
Meanwhile Alexander turned around to face the man behind him.
Father Mokoena had a wide smile on his wrinkled face as he walked back up to him, his hand extended. As they repeated the same gesture they had given each other earlier, the Father loudly announced,
“God bless your path, Guide.”
“Thank you, Father,” Alexander replied with a deep nod. “I am going to need it.”
After a moment, they let go off each other’s hands again, and Alexander wordlessly walked back off the stage, while Father Mokoena already loudly addressed the crowd again.
Behind the curtain just off the stage, Brother Anders was still waiting for him.
“A captivating speech,” the muscular man complimented him with a brief faux applause he hinted at with his hands, not actually clapping so he wouldn’t disturb the sermon. “But was that a reference I spotted in the middle of it there?”
Alexander scoffed at the man.
“All speeches have references,” he said while he passed the Brother, folding his hands behind his back as he went.
Anders looked after him in mild confusion.
“Aren’t you going to stay and hear the sermon?” he asked as Alexander was already disappearing away from the stage again.
“My faith is between me and our Lord,” Alexander explained as he shook his head. “My prayer does not need an advocate.”
No, instead of wasting time listening to a sermon of prayers that he could speak himself, he decided to instead use it to look after those who were in need of his guidance.
Walking back to from whence he came, he passed his earlier cloakroom and traversed the hallways all the way to a larger, much more open changing room, that would usually most likely house droves of actors or other performers in marvelous costumes before they would go out on stage to dazzle the masses.
Today, however, it was home to a much sadder sight.
Laid out on two benches, surrounded by their peers, were two truly pitiful casualties of conflict. As he walked in, their ears twitched and they began to look up in erratic movements, their muscles twitching and shivering as if under immense stress from just the simple movements, and even after their head was lifted, it was stuck in a constant quiver.
Meanwhile, their far healthier compatriots also turned towards him, their gazes dark and eyes sharp, while their agitated tails whipped through the air like angry flails.
“How are you feeling?” Alexander asked the first of the two clearly ill myiat who met his gaze.
“According to the…circumstances,” the man replied, his voice about as jittery as his posture as he spoke. His name was Mirrakshra. A good man, suffering a bad fate.
Meanwhile, one of their healthy compatriots, a dark-skinned fellow with a scar from a cut right over his cheekbone that had accompanied Alexander since back on Dunnima, glared at Alexander with fiery eyes as he saw the kind of robe he wore.
“If you’re going to try some sort of faith-healing bullshit, then I swear to-“ he began, however Alexander cut him off harshly.
“You shouldn’t swear, Eskfotarra. Not on heaven or on Earth,” he reprimanded him with firm words. Then he smirked, “You may promise to harm me all you like, however. But no, that’s not why I’m here. I’m not a fool. I know I can’t work miracles. I simply worry about his wellbeing.”
“It’s al..alright,” Mirrakshra quelled the worries of his friend. “Y-y-you got news?”
Alexander exhaled disappointedly.
“Sadly, yes,” he said and looked away. “It seems that some of our allies have…how do you say…jumped the gun? They attempted to exterminate the affront prematurely, and in the process, have only made it all the more enduring, it seems.”
Eskfotarra scoffed and his ears twitched slightly as his tail slowed to a gradual sway.
“So, she’s out now?” he correctly assumed, and the smirk on his face told of him not finding those circumstances all too disagreeable. An unfortunate choice, but his to make.
“Indeed,” Alexander replied. “And at the scale we’re currently working at, I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to stamp it out.”
By now, the AI might have infected the entire Galaxy. There was no telling of the kind of hardships they would soon face because of it.
However, Eskfotarra just glanced down at his ill friends again as his grimace soured.
“And Aldwin?” he asked darkly.
Alexander lifted his arms with open palms and shrugged.
“Hidden away where we cannot reach him, at least for the moment,” he explained.
The myiat aggressively clicked his tongue and hissed through his teeth.
“Then when will we be able to reach him?” he asked, his claws unfurling on his arm, cutting into the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s high time that he answers for a lot of things.”
In a picture that should be grotesque but could only be described as empathetic, the quivering, injured feline laying before him looked up at his healthy friend with pity, while wrath seemingly consumed Eskfotarra.
Alexander nodded.
“I’m sure he would agree with you there,” he pointed out, seeing as Aldwin had never been shy to point out his own misdeeds. “That is why sooner or later, he is going to make it possible. The danger is the nature of a Saint.”

I have ADHD and coming into the office has recently become an issue again because of being in on days with a staff member who doesn’t really like me (we are competitive to a degree with our client helpfulness and I came in as a new person with high scores off the bat and that’s probably intimidating for her as my team lead) plus interruptions throw off my routine which makes things worse for me as well. I already have a few things in place like noise cancelling headphones, earplugs, a room on my own to work (after an incident with said team lead 🤪) and regular breaks. I also wear clothes that are comfortable sensory wise and workplace appropriate to help too. I also have a service dog but she’s mainly at home these days and no one at work really knows about that. I don’t know if she’d be helpful or if anyone else has any ideas that’d be great.

Purrk stretched his legs out in the water, flexing his webbed toes as he paddled around on his back. His small ears flicked as a gnat buzzed around his face. He swatted at it lightly with his left hand, missing. His hand fell on his tummy and he scratched through his sun warmed fur.
He paddled around, falling in and out of naps, for several hours. He neared the shore and pulled up several green pads to gnaw on. A smile crossed his face as he chewed. His tummy bulged momentarily and he expelled pellets into the dark water, easing further into comfort as his internals were sated.
He eventually reached the bank he had entered from, and exited back out toward the large black sunning stone. He climbed up it and curled into the massive etched symbol in its surface, embracing the warmth. He fell back asleep as his fur began to dry out.
Purrk's ears perked up as he heard familiar footsteps exit out of the field.
"Son." A low voice called out.
Purrk rolled over and opened an eye. "Hey dad. What you doing out here?"
His dad walked over and sat down beside him in the carved glyph. He leaned into his son, snuggling a bit and forcing him to move a few inches. "Came to see how you are doing."
"Same as always."
His dad let his eyes shut a bit as he crossed his arms on his own tummy. "You drinking out of the pond again?"
Purrk shook his head slightly. "No."
His dad reached over and patted his son's leg. "It's ok. I'll have your mom pick up more antiparasitics."
"I'll be fine." Purrk groaned a bit. "It's natural."
His dad lifted his head up. "Early death is natural too. You're too old for this kind of nonsense."
Purrk rolled over, adjusting to look his dad square on. "I'm just living."
"No, son, you're not." His dad leaned back onto the stone, resting his head on his hands. "It's time for you to move on, get out on your own."
Purrk smiled. "Ok." He leaned up onto his knees. "So, we gonna build a house? Do I get to pick where?"
His dad sighed. "Your mom's pregnant."
Purrk laughed. "Ok."
"It's going to be a big litter. Eight this time."
Purrk's eyes widened slightly. "Oh wow. Doctor scanned her?"
"Yup." His dad turned and looked at him. "We're going to need your room Purrk. Your older siblings have claims to the farm already." He leaned over and touched his shoulder. "You're going to have to strike out on your own."
Purrk stared at him for a moment. "Like leave? You want me off the acreage?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Our family is at quota."
Purrk nodded back and lowered his head. "This is my home." He looked back up at his dad, a tear in the black of his eye. "You, my family. This is my home."
"Purrk, anyone else and I would worry, but not you. You'll do fine. The universe is big. You'll find a place to make your own."
Purrk rose up onto his two feet. "The universe? Dad, I don't know anything about out there. Why can't I just live here by the pond. I like it here."
"Son, you're Baraman. Probably the most Bara of anyone I know. I've never seen you afraid of anything in your life. You'll be fine."
Purrk shook his head, raising a finger. "I've only tried to be like you. You're never phased. You make everything work. Let me stay and help. I can help."
His dad leaned up onto his own knees and took a slow breath. "Son, you don't help. You don't run the tractors. You don't cook, you don't clean, you don't fix, you don't do, well, anything." He stood up and stretched for a moment, then looked at Purrk. "You take up space, and we need that space." He turned around and started walking up the face of the black stone.
Purrk watched as he walked up into the bean field. He groaned and turned back to the water and slipped back in, flipping over to float on his back.
---===*===---
He packed up his room easily. He didn't have much in the way of possessions, just a few shirts, a blanket for cold nights, and a small blade he used to cut foliage. He finished sorting them and exited into the communal room. Rika and Tuk had come from their homes to see him off.
Rika smiled, handing him a pouch full of dried melick fruit. "You're going to be amazing out there." She said, leaning in and nuzzling him.
Tuk stood next to the door, holding it open. "Come on Purrk. Taxi is waiting for you."
Purrk stared at him for a moment. "Where exactly are you sending me?"
Tuk stepped out, waiting for him. "Dad and I talked over best scenarios for you. We think Harborhold is best."
Purrk walked toward the green motorized carriage and sighed. "What will I do there?"
Tuk waved at the driver and pulled the door open for his brother. "There's job's a plenty there. Find work, get you a place." Tuk opened up his shirt pocket and pulled out a cloth bound wad of coins. "Here. Get you an apartment there. Get set up."
Purrk took the pouch and looked up at his brother. "Can I come visit?"
Tuk put his right hand on Purrk's shoulder, staring into his brother's dark eyes. "Make it two years, then you can visit. Maybe during harvest. We could use the help."
Purrk looked down. "Maybe come for harvest. Alright." He turned and slunk into the taxi. He looked up at the high window of the family roundhouse, his mother stared down at him. After a moment she turned away.
Tuk slammed the door and patted the trunk.
The driver set off for Harborhold.
---===*===---
The ride took most of the day, the thin gravel roads giving way to cobbled then paved roads. Traffic increased as more and more trucks hauling grains and dried fruits filled the road. Purrk stared out the window as buildings became more prevalent, houses and farms replaced by towers and apartments. In the distance he could see trade ships descending toward the landing grounds. He watched as ship after ship hovered in wait, and then lowered down amongst the tradehouses.
Purrk pointed out the window. "Can you take me there?"
Blonk, the driver, snorted. "Course. You sure you want over there though? Your kin said to take you to the harvest halls."
Purrk shook his head, still staring at the ships. A large metallic purple ship had entered the atmosphere and lowered into line. "No. I never liked harvest. That though. That's amazing."
Blonk groaned. "Alright. No hair off me. I got paid here and back. Yours for the day bud."
Purrk had never imagined so many Baraman. He had heard stories from his sisters, clothes, peoples, other races, but he didn't really care, not until seeing it. People darted in and out of stores, several were wearing lower clothes, pants, and one fella was even wearing feet covering.
He pointed laughing. "Look that guy! He's got shoes!"
Blonk nodded. "It ain't mud here bud. The sweepers try and keep the sidewalks clear, but its not uncommon to get cut on broken glass."
"Gross! Bara leave glass on the ground here?"
"Yup. Bunch of animals we are." Blonk responded as he turned the corner toward a warehouse. "You're wanting a job eh?"
Purrk looked at the towering silos and then looked at the driver. "Yeah, I'll need one."
Blonk pointed up at the silo. "I got a cousin runs this place. They always need hands. You want a job, I can get you one right now, ya want."
Purrk nodded.
Blonk slowed the car to a stop and turned off the engine. "Come on bud. Let's get you set up."
---===*===---
Blonk led the way into the high offices at the end of the silos. A manager saw him and descended the wooden stairs.
"Hey cuz." The tall Bara said as he took Blonk's arm and embraced him.
Blonk smiled and hugged back. After a moment he pointed over at Purrk. "Kicked off the farm. Needs a job." He leaned in a bit. "Not to bright."
The taller Bara walked over and looked Purrk over. "Kicked off the farm huh?"
Purrk nodded. "Yeah. Need a job and find a place to nest up."
He looked Purrk over. "You able to operate forks?"
Purrk scratched his chin then shook his head. "Forks?"
The manager pointed across the floor at a wheeled machine lifting a pallet of grain sacks. "Forks. For lifting. Think you can manage one of those?"
Purrk watched the operator for a moment. "I can learn." He said, nodding. "Yeah, that looks fun. I can learn that."
The manager laughed. "Fun. Yeah." He stuck his hand out. "Frelb. Clan owner of this here silo."
Purrk reached out and took his hand. "Purrk. Um, I got a backpack."
Frelb laughed and looked at Blonk. "Straight off the farm eh."
Blonk nodded.
Frelb started back up the stairs. "You start training tomorrow Purrk. Go get some rest." He waved him off and then turned to look back at Blonk. "Cuz, you going to be in town for a bit?"
Blonk shook his head. "Getting this one set up over at Matta's. She should have some bunks available til he finds what he wants, then I gotta head back out."
"You gonna have time for drinks before you head out?"
Blonk nodded and laughed. "You buying right?"
Frelb raised his webbed hands out. "Buying? Hell, no, brewing maybe."
Blonk laughed and hit Purrk in the shoulder. "Let's go get your bunk bud." He then pointed back up at his cousin. "Then we're gonna teach you how to do a run."
Purrk tilted his head. "A run?"
---===*===---
Purrk woke up hurting the next morning. He looked around and memory started flicking back to him. He was in the bunkhouse, Matta's bunkhouse. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach turn over. He hurried up and made it to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Someone yelled at him for making too much noise. He didn't care, and proceeded to empty his stomach in the toilet.
He looked at the mess. "I hate toilets." He flushed his stomach contents and sat on the ground next to the toilet, breathing slowly.
Someone tapped at the door. "That you Purrk?"
He nodded even though no one could see him. "Yeah. Matta?"
She laughed. "Yes sir. Sounds like you got too much of a shine with my cousins." She tapped the door. "You best hurry. Your going to be late for Frelb, and he doesn't like late."
He got up and went to the sink, turning the ridged handle. Water rushed out and he took it, splashing his face, tasting it. "Eww!" He spat out the metal laden water. "God this place is gross."
He finished washing and went back to his sleeping rack. He pulled a shirt out of his sack and put it on. He sighed as he looked out the large windows, taking in the bright light and brick buildings staring back. "First day of work. This is going to suck."
---===*===---
Purrk was still slightly dizzy when he was presented the forks to drive. He hopped up, mirroring what his trainer had shown him. He immediately swung the front end abruptly right, not intending to. "My bad."
The trainer groaned, watching.
Purrk manipulated the fork again, getting it to move forward and then backward as he wanted. "I'm getting it. I'm getting it."
The trainer pointed at a flat of pallets. "Alright. Lets see you move some."
Purrk drove over and picked a pallet, balancing it precariously on the end of the forks.
"Restick it."
Purrk lowered it and pushed in deeper under the pallet, then lifted.
The trainer stared at him then pointed over at a waiting truck. "See if you can get it on there without breaking stuff."
Purrk nodded and carted the pallet over. He sat it down gently on the truck and backed away, leaving his cargo safely in place. He looked over at his trainer and smiled. "I did it!"
The trainer sighed and pointed back at the piles of sacks. "Good. Now do it a hundred more times."
Purrk groaned and drove back over.
---===*===---
The days went by quick. Frelb ignored Purrk during the days in the silo, but had him stay after to help with runs in the evening. After a week Purrk was able to run the still without intervention and Frelb sat back watching.
The taller Bara took a sip from his cup, shaking as the drink went down. He relaxed after and pointed at Purrk. "Hows you settling in?"
"Ok I guess." Purrk replied.
"Ok?" Frelb asked. "You moved into your own apartment this week didn't you?"
Purrk nodded as he leaned next to the cooler coil, keeping an eye on the drip. "Yeah. It's ok."
"Again the ok." Frelb laughed. "You're living in the big city! You been downtown yet? Seen any shows?"
"No. Doesn't sound fun."
Frelb shook his head, leaning forward. "What's got you down? Home sick?"
Purrk looked over at the foreman. "I don't get it."
"Get what?"
"The point." He replied.
Frelb stared at him for a moment. "The shows are fun. I can take you, my treat. You ever seen a good titty dance?"
Purrk sighed. "I've got lots of sisters, seen way too many titties."
"I know a good doctor. He's got meds for depression. Might cure you up."
Purrk reached under the drip and took a taste on his finger, raising it up to his tongue. He tasted it, confirming the ethanol. "It ain't depression, or needing a show. I just don't get it." He stared over at Frelb. "I thank you for the work, and your family helping me, I really do, but I don't like working."
Frelb laughed. "Nobody likes working Purrk. That's why we we're running the still! Hell, your cut from this week's runs will set you up a pretty payday. Use it, enjoy it, find anything you like. Hell take your pay in jugs if you want. You gotta get out of your funk, too young for that nonsense."
Purrk shrugged. "Maybe."
"Maybe my broke tooth." Frelb said, standing up. "We'll get you set up with something. Maybe a hobby or find you a nice young sow down at the bars. Something."
Purrk groaned.
---===*===---
Payday came and Purrk opened up a bank account, bought a new blue and yellow shirt, and went down to the bar as Frelb had suggested. It was one run by one of their family members, fueled by the very spirits Purrk had distilled. He sat at the end of the long wood plank, watching the door. He sat, sipping on his fruit mixed drink. The evening went on, people entered and left, and still he sat, quiet at the end of the plank.
Two Diles stepped in near midnight. He had never seen their kind before, only tales. He watched as they ordered milks and sat in the corner. The two sat talking in their guttural language, discussing a paper held in the shorter one's stubby clawed hands. The other looked over at Purrk, returning his stare.
Purrk, clueless, didn't look away. After a moment he smiled and raised his own glass toward them.
The shorter stowed his paper away in his side pouch and got up. It walked over toward Purrk, its toothed grin motionless. It stopped and leaned onto the plank bar, directing its yellow eye directly into Purrk's dark eyes. "You got a problem little Bara?"
Purrk, still smiling, shook his head. "No. Drink's good. You doing ok?"
The Dile looked over at its comrade and shrugged before turning back toward Purrk. "I'm doing good. Well, actually I'm not." He leaned in closer. "I've got a job to do, and I don't really know how to do it."
Purrk looked at him for a moment then tilted his head to match the Dile's. "I've got a job too, not really that fun, but it pays. Took me a while to learn to do it too." He laughed and patted the creature on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out. If I can learn, I'm sure you can."
The Dile laughed as his friend stepped up and took a seat beside Purrk. The taller one leaned over Purrk's other side. "You ever been on a starship?" It asked.
Purrk shook his head. "No, I watch them from the roof sometimes. They look pretty."
"Well." The shorter Dile started. "Captain wants us to fill out the crew roster. Wants to hire some Baraman, people like you."
Purrk leaned back, chuckling a bit. "I'm a Baraman!"
The taller Dile leaned in. "We know bud! How'd you like to work a starship?"
Purrk shook his head wildly, still laughing. "I don't know anything about starships. I just drive forks and distill." He said, lifting his glass."
"It's easy." The taller Dile said. "If you can run forks, you can help in the cargo bay I'm sure. See the universe, go to new places, see new things. What you say?"
Purrk thought for a moment. "The warehouse is pretty boring. I don't like it here." He looked over at the shorter Dile. "It pays right?"
The Dile nodded. "Of course. Pays better than any warehouse job on this silly slimewater world."
Purrk stuck out his hand. "Where do I sign up?"
The shorter Dile pulled out the paper. "Right here my new friend. Right here."
Purrk leaned in and took the offered pen, signing the roster sheet.
The Dile looked at the signature, smiling. "Well, Purrk. We are set to lift off tomorrow evening. I'll get you cleared to board. Be there, or be left here. Your choice."
Purrk laughed and patted him on the back. "Be where?"
The taller Dile stood up, towering over him. "Pad fourteen. Black ship. You'll see us running grounds. We'll keep a look for you."
Purrk kept nodding. "Alright. Deal. See you two tomorrow!"

Has any one tested this?

Dynamat series which is really just for high pitched vibrations like clinking or metal tapping
From the Dynamat website it looks like you should first use Dynamat and then add Dynapad on top, in addition, for the floors. Have people done that? Answer: Yes, based on how much sound deadening you want and how much you want to spend. I used this in multiple cars. The best approach is two layers of Dynamat and then one layer of Dynapad. Since each product works on different frequencies, you need at least one of each for best results

https://www.amazon.com/Dynamat-21100-DynaPad-Non-Adhesive-Deadenedp/B001KM5IZO/ref=sr_1_3_mod_primary_new?crid=112NBPW7WE40L&keywords=DynaPad&qid=1679423856&sbo=RZvfv%2F%2FHxDF%2BO5021pAnSA%3D%3D&sprefix=dynapad%2Caps%2C116&sr=8-3

DynaPad is a heavy, thick, four layer composite barrier utilizing “Dissimilar Layer Insulating” technology that solves two of the most difficult automotive problems: exhaust system heat and low frequency noise.

https://www.dynamat.com/products/dynapad/
Today, I purchased a sample piece to test.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07H7W14SK/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

this should appear in search results and hopefully saves someone from chasing ghosts.
SYMPTOMS:

• Burning plastic smell from engine bay
• HID bulbs running too hot
• HID headlight color blue or green
• inconsistent, bogged-down car behavior
• RPM drop during small electric load (like window motors)
• whining sound from headlight/ballast when turned on
• melted bulb housings

CAUSE:
The issue is the ballast or bulb going out. If you can hear a whining noise on startup, it is probably the igniter contained in the bulb. If there are constant power draw issues, it's probably the ballast. All OEM compliant bulbs will attempt re-ignition up to 7 times before failsafeing. they then drop to their operating voltage of 85VAC.
Before replacing parts, check the headlight harnesses for corrosion. Mine had corrosion on the power delivery pin (red) and the common neutral (black). If any water gets into the connectors, it will drive the line voltage very high, and starts to rapidly corrode the power delivery pins which accelerates the problem via electrolysis. Because all of the bulbs share a single harness pin for their power, this causes very high temperatures in any of the bulbs, not just the HID circuit alone.
For turbonerds:

HID bulbs use very, very high voltages to ignite plasma in the bulbs -- so while the ballast on OEM systems are labelled with 12VDC IN, 85VAC OUT, the actual voltage during ignition is generally 26,000V. At this voltage it takes very little resistance to draw extreme amounts of power.

P = V^2 / R 

small amounts of corrosion on the harness connector, like the kind from water intrusion (white crust), can bring the line resistance up to several hundreds of ohms. this will literally melt a fucking hole in an OEM headlight housing. that is the plastic smell.

in worse situations the power draw is so high from the faulty ballast/bulb that the alternator gets bogged down as it causes magnetic drag at the rotor, which slows your crank down. it can also cause odd fluctuations in reference voltages via the common neutral, which may make the car inconsistent in behavior. that line goes straight to the IPDM and is unprotected by the fuse:

fuses pop specifically via overcurrent protection and can do nothing to stop a very high voltage but low current process. Power is what causes components to heat up, not current.

even if it isn't HID, it will overpower the incandescent bulbs to stupid temperatures. my side marker bulb, an OEM T20 5W bulb, put a quarter sized hole in a brand new OEM headlight housing. all of the bulbs can run hot enough to melt their housings if there is enough corrosion on their power delivery pin.
if an HID ballast is going out, you can see the bulb color temperature run higher (more blue) which persists even after the bulb has warmed up. the color changing during cold bulb start is normal -- it staying around is not.

I have an old, but faithful, Roomba 561. I've upgraded and kept using it over the years. Life happened. I haven't used it in over a year. Now, when I plug it in, or turn it on, it makes a high pitched continuous beep from near the left wheel. (There's a speaker there from what I've seen online.) Noise only stops when I turn the roomba off. Noise even happens when plugged in while battery is removed. This is new behavior, as I've replaced the dust bin/motor, the brush cage, a wheel, and the battery in the past. Before I go and pull the motherboard, has anyone had this issue? I can only find a few examples online.

I purchased a G535 wireless headset and whenever I use them wirelessly the headphones make an annoying high-pitched noise in left and its solving whenever i plug the cable and its solving when notification sound comes(like full volume or mic turn on off). Does anyone know how to fix it?

First Previous
Chapter 2: Now Is Found
​
The moment the Into the Black entered Sol, the human’s home system, various transmissions and radio signals poured in. At first, the captain and the rest of the crew thought that humanity was well and truly alive. But upon closer inspection of the deluge of signals they were receiving, they realized they were nothing more than automated warnings, echoes, and ghost signals bouncing around the countless derelict ships, stations, habitats, and arcologies that surrounded nearly every world and moon in the system. The place was a mass grave, far greater than any of the previous systems. In fact, this system was the most developed Ohmata had ever seen. The Galactic Union’s capital is the most advanced system in the GU, and it pales compared to the level of development of the human home system!
The sheer amount of death and destruction was frightening. Entire fleets worth of ships clumped together in the void of space. Their own mass creating a small gravity, pulling them together and fashioning massive hulks. While also creating hazardous clouds of metal debris, more than a few moving fast enough to rip the Black to shreds, should they not be vigilant. Constructs the size of cities floated aimlessly, stuck within the confines of the star’s influence. Mobile defense platforms, which once bristled with the finest weapons humanity could field, lay battered and broken amongst the many wrecks that called Sol home. Humanity did not go down without a fight, that much was for certain. If anyone ever called them cowards, Ohmata would simply show them the recorded footage of their home system to prove the naysayers otherwise.
There looked to be more metal strewn about from the battles and destroyed ships alone than in every GU fleet combined, and more than a few worlds, too. The difference in the ships was obvious. The human vessels were boxy, utilitarian. They did their jobs, and they did them well. Many of which appeared to be nothing more than massive guns someone built a ship around, then put more guns on that.
The Nemesis were different; they weren’t boxy and rigid angles like the humans, but not totally smooth either. They had a far more organic look with multiple bends and curves, but the surfaces seemed to be rough and bumpy, and unlike the human ships, almost none were symmetrical. But though they were asymmetrical, there existed patterns in the various derelicts. As if they were variations of preexisting models, updated and expanded upon with time. In comparison, most GU ships were a happy medium. They had the bends and curves like the Nemesis, but were neatly symmetrical like the human ships.
Looking past the destruction and death, the system was fairly average. Four rocky worlds, four gas giants, and several smaller bodies here and there. The gas giants still had the broken remains of floating cities scattered across them, while their moons contained colonies and stations galore. But what was most interesting were the third and fourth rocky worlds. The fourth one had depressingly little green on it. It was mostly red, with an occasional white streak indicating clouds. It was highly developed, ruined cities ranged across its surface freely. But it bore the marks of war none the less. It would be a prime candidate for collecting samples, as long as the surface wasn’t too hazardous. Humanity did have a fetish for nuclear annihilation towards their end, after all.
The third planet, the third planet was something else. It was a grey husk devoid of life. Its moon had a massive crater denting its facade, with many smaller ones marking its surface. They stood out prominently. Fresh wounds of war contrasted against natural meteor strikes. The debris from the lunar surface and whatever had caused the impact was already starting to form the semblance of a ring around the planet. And like everywhere else, the surrounding space was choked with battle debris, though most had collected in the planet’s “proto ring”. There was so much debris that they could barely scan the planet, and what parts they could get to was so irradiated that a signal couldn’t penetrate from such a distance. Which meant if they wanted to scan the home world of these legendary humans, they would have to get closer. Which, frankly, was currently impossible.
“Nix’Fa, can you maneuver through that debris field?” Ohmata asked, while peering down at her console.
“No ma’am. A shuttle may get through, but it won’t have any of the equipment necessary to scan the planet. At least, not at any reasonable rate,” Nix’Fa replied. She, too, was looking over her console at potential flight paths.
First Lieutenant Qhaax spoke up from her station. “We may not need to actually scan the planet to learn more about humanity, captain. Most of the planet is a flattened, irradiated death pit, but the debris field around it still contains warships from both sides, some in remarkable condition. In fact, several derelicts appear to still have power, even after thousands of years. We may be able to board them using a shuttle and extract data from any intact computer systems we find. And while not exactly human, there is a Nemesis ship relatively close to the edge of the field. It would be a good first target.”
“Then we’ll change our plan to that. Qhaax, contact Kitern and tell her to get her marines suited up, send a techy or two and some researchers with them as well. You’ll have to contact Tentzonta to get her to let some of her engineers loose for once, and Glevar for her researchers. Though you won’t have to convince her, she’ll be jumping at the opportunity. Nix’Fa, start plotting them a course, and we’ll go from there, understood?”
The two responded with a crisp, yes ma’am, and got to work on their respective tasks.
-
“Kitern, can you hear me?” Ohmata’s voice called out from Kitern’s suit’s comms.
“Loud and clear, cap, whatcha need?” Commander Kitern responded as she stowed away several more energy cells for her weapon. She was a digitigrade, feline like mammal known as a Lioranian, with thick paw like hands that held deadly claws within them. They were still thin and nimble enough to manipulate objects accurately, but most importantly, pull a trigger. Her kind also had a slightly elongated snout, long tail, and top forward facing ears. Their eyes were dark, but a few bore mutations which lightened the iris to a sky blue. And their pupils are vertical, but would dilate periodically to give better depth perception and low light visibility. Her species’ coats ranged from a dark tan to a bright yellow gold and had multiple coat patterns of varying intensities. She personally had a dusty tan coat with slight stripe markings originating from her spine, but quickly fading as they reached around to her abdomen and chest.
“You already have a basic rundown about what to do. But I just wanted to remind you, we marked an entrance for you through some old battle damage on a derelict Nemesis ship that is close to the edge of the debris field. Enter, make your way to the power source, secure the area, and set up a pressurized zone if possible so the techies can work in peace. If you can’t, oh well, they can work in their suits. Also, you see anything living, as unlikely as that is, don’t go shooting it. Try to capture or reason with it, but if it does anything stupid, then do what you and your girls do best.”
Kitern smiled maliciously. “Aye, aye, captain. We’ll keep the civvies alive and kick’n, get the goods and be back in no time.”
“Then I leave the rest to you. Oh, try not to mess with the shuttle’s controls while it’s on autopilot this time. It’ll be weaving through a debris field too compact to get the Black into. Any rescue efforts will take a long time, longer than what you’ll have, so don’t touch the throttle like last time!” Ohmata raised her voice jokingly, playfully reminding Kitern of the last time they were on a shuttle together in such conditions.
“Ha! Dontcha worry, I’ll be in the back. Onsa will be in the pilot’s seat for this go. She’s a better flyer anyways,” Kitern played.
“Alright then, get done and come back, preferable alive. Ohmata out.” There was a click as Ohmata closed the channel.
“Hmph, always do.” Kitern had been staring at a random wall while talking to Ohmata. With the call over, she turned to her squad. “Alright girls, get your shit together and get to the shuttle. Oh, and keep your hands to yourself, Hran is coming along, I don’t want any complaints from him, or hands where they shouldn’t be, got it?” she barked, eyeing each of the three other marines, more specifically the youngest two.
“What if he lets us?” one of said marines asked jokingly.
“It’ll be a cold day on Ca’tab before that happens, Asteli,” Kitern replied.
“You never know, we might just wear him down finally, right Gre’Namra?” the perky Venanian replied.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Namra, and I doubt it. Men like to be wined and dined. Take them out, pay for a fancy meal, maybe buy them something. You know, the usual,” her counterpart, a Drae’Ildan, responded.
Kitern sighed. “Or how about not harassing anyone and act like a decent sentient, you hornbags? Now, shut it and get to the shuttle. Dentala you’ll have your work cut out for you keeping track of these two today.”
“Not as big of a job as keeping track of you, I pity Onsa,” Dentala said as she lifted a heavy kinetic slugger with a red hand, another Venanian.
Kitern chuffed deeply, her species version of a chuckle. “Me too! But, you might wanna put on a glove before we go out. Might help with the whole vacuum thing.” Dentala looked at her hand, surprised that she had forgotten it, before slipping one on. It attached to her bracer and made an airtight seal, forming an armored gauntlet. With that, the four marines left to join their fifth member in the shuttle.
As they left the locker room, Asteli mumbled under her breath. “We wouldn’t do that. We’re not assholes,” she said, addressing Kitern’s assertion of harassment.
“Well, you sound like one,” Gre’Namra replied quietly. After that, they kept their heads down and trudged along with their commanding officer.
A short jaunt later, they were passing through the hangar bay’s airlock. They were greeted by the Black’s only two shuttles. One, small and cramped, meant for scanning dangerous locations that they couldn’t get to with the ship. Logically, that would mean it was best suited to scan Earth. But even its equipment was not powerful enough to breach the radiation. Not without descending into the planet's atmosphere and becoming so irradiated they would practically glow in the dark. And while they could get Aphosi to pilot the shuttle remotely, its scanners aren't able to scan such a broad area like an entire planet. They were more meant to target small, specific locations.
The second shuttle was much larger. It was built to transport supplies and the handful of rovers they had in storage, to make excursions to planets. The smaller shuttle had permanently extended wings and large thrusters on the rear. The larger of the two, simply dubbed Shuttle One, could fold its wings. And had a variety of thrusters located across the ship for better maneuverability in space, and atmospheric thrusters embedded in the center of each wing for flight in atmo. But it also had two large engines in the back for forward thrust, just above its rear ramp.
Walking over to shuttle one, Onsa, the other Lioranian in the squad, was already waiting for them in the pilot’s seat. In the rear seating area were two engineers and two scientists, wearing grey, lightly armored EVA suits that looked to be made of cloth, but were instead a variety of advance polymers and flexible but insulative materials. Most of the helmet was a large, one way transparent material, allowing for increased awareness while sacrificing protection. In comparison, the marine’s helmets had no exterior window, instead a suite of miniature sensors embedded in their black armored helmets allowed them to see through an internal display screen. The helmets appeared to be smooth metal from a distance, only up close could you see the microscopic sensors embedded in them.
The marine’s suits held many of the same features as the civilians, but were black and had thick armored plates over vital areas and on select parts of their extremities, with thinner, non-metal armor segments filling in the gaps. Both suit types had an array of pockets and hideaways, each holding their respective tools of the trade. Regardless of the accessories, or level of protection, each was specially crafted to accommodate for the unique physiologies of the different species.
Had the ship and its equipment not made with each of their species in mind, they would have worn generic multi species suits. Instead of the pre-built features tailored for their specific anatomy, they would be covered with a thick insulated, pliable material that fitted over the horns, tails, and crests and shrank until it was tightly pressed against every nook and cranny. Aside from personalized helmets, each species’ leg sections and gloves/gauntlets catered for whether they were plantigrade, digitigrade, or for how many digits they may possess.
Hran being a male Venanian, had small horns jutting out from his temples. But because his horns were so small, his helmet did not need any special features. Thus was fairly plain. It looked like a sphere that had been slightly squished in on the sides. Unlike the females of his species, who had much larger, curved horns, their helmets were marked with two twin armored segments sticking up like antenna. Otherwise, their helmets were just as “stubby” as his, for their flatter faces. At least, in comparison to the other species onboard.
The Shednae with their elaborate head crests and long faces, had a stubby mohawk like metal protrusion for their crests to fit in, and longer helmets to account for their heads. The Drae’Ildan’s helmets were similar to the Shednae. In fact, they could be mistaken for one another if not for the lack of a head crest. Lastly, the Lioranian helmets were quite plain, aside from the extended “snout” for their slightly longer faces and two nubs to house their ears located on the top of their heads.
Those with tails were likewise afforded a special area to put them, instead of the shrinking material normal for such species. The Shednae have a small knob like space for their short tails. While the Venanians and Lioranians had long thin tails, they could be coiled in the suit. Drae’Ildan suits had a much longer and thicker tail section that looked burdensome but was quite flexible. Their suits were also equipped with a much larger array of sensors to assist them, as the Drae’Ildan’s natural sensory organs were significantly dulled in such tight confines.
“I see the grunts have finally made their appearance. Why did you bother bringing so many guns with you? It’s a derelict that has been floating dead in space for thousands of cycles. There won’t be anything living on board.”, one of the engineers nagged, as the marines ducked into the shuttle. Though her helmet was on, it was clear she was a part of engineering by the orange stripe running along the left of her suite, and left sleeve. Mimicking their uniforms.
“And a fine hello to you Kass, you too, Hran,” Kitern said as she sat down across from the two Venanians and buckled in. Hran simply nodded silently. Kitern continued, “And as for your question, we have no idea what we’ll find. You want to be stuck out in space with no way of protecting yourself if something is there? Yeah, I’m sure it’s empty too. Doesn’t mean I’m taking any chances.” Kass snorted at her reply.
“Shavizi, Jurwa, what about you two, think we’ve over prepared?” Kitern asked the two scientists to her left. Their stripes were blue.
“One can never be too prepared! Though the heavy slugger seems a bit excessive, but as long as you don’t drop it on me, I have no complaints,” Jurwa, a Shednae, said gleefully, practically bouncing in her seat.
“I agree, organic enemies aside. The ship may have automated defenses still functioning. If so, they will have to be dealt with accordingly.” Shavizi added. Yet another Venanian.
“See Kass, they get it,” Kitern grinned smugly underneath her helmet as she leaned back and buckled herself in.
As the others sat down and buckled in, Onsa turned in her seat to see if they were all ready. Everyone confirming they were. She turned back around and started up the shuttle. Quickly putting it into autopilot, but still keeping her hands on the controls just in case. The shuttle slipped out of the bay, passing through the atmospheric retention field, and pitching down and to the left, heading for the derelict Nemesis ship.
As the debris field is so dense and dangerous, the Into the Black was several hundred kilometers away, clear of any potential danger. As such, the trip would take around five minutes before they reached the field, another six to navigate the debris, as it was so hazardous. The Nemesis ship in question was near the edge of the debris field, but still mostly intact, with some power readings emanating from within, a perfect target for research.
-
“We’re coming alongside it now. Once we have successfully magnetized to its hull with the docking clamps, I’ll decompress the shuttle and you can open him up,” Onsa called out, just barely turning her head back in their direction.
Kitern activated her comms so everyone could hear her clearly once the air was siphoned out. “Gotcha. Scans show two distinct points of power readings. Both look to be in the same place, or at least really damn close. We’ll take a right once we get into the ship and follow the corridor until it leads to a three-way intersection. Then we make a left, then a right, and we’ll be on track. The room in question will be along that corridor. Keep your eyes and sensors open for anything that looks Nemesis-y.”
“Oh, like the entire ship?” Kass chimed in.
Kitern rolled her eyes. “Onsa, give a countdown.”
Onsa nodded her head. “Affirmative. Decompression commencing in three… two… one… starting.” There was an audible hiss that slowly faded away as the air in the shuttle was pulled back into storage tanks for later use. “Decompression complete, safe to open the door,” she confirmed over their comms.
“Opening door. Don’t go floating off,” Kitern joked as she pressed a button near the hatch, causing it to slide open silently. Before them was a gaping hole in the side of what looked like a ship that had grown large warts. The human beacons had mentioned that the Nemesis ships weren’t smooth, but the reality was a bit more unsettling up close. The humans weren’t sure why the Nemesis ships were so… bumpy. But they knew it wasn’t actually part of the building process, as newly refurbished or repaired Nemesis vessels lacked the warty exterior. But they had seen no importance in investigating the reason, so it remains a mystery to this day.
Kitern lifted a foot, causing the magnetic lock on that boot to disengage automatically, then re-engage when she put pressure on it. Allowing her to walk forward until she was looking down into the hole. Kitern put a foot on the lip of the shuttle, and bent forward, pushing herself into the opening.
As Kitern floated into the ship, she could see the corridors were circular, with strange partitions along the edges. The partitions didn’t seem to move or close, so she guessed they were more decorative support beams than actual doorways. A second later, she put out a hand to stop herself from colliding with the far wall, and pushed downward, boots magnetizing to the floor. Upon magnetizing, she immediately lifted her weapon. It was a small energy-based firearm, similar in size and function to an SMG.
Looking down both directions of the corridor showed nothing of interest other than more of those strange support beams and closed bulkhead doors on either end. She noted the twisted metal and battle damage in the corridor caused by whatever had impacted the hull.
Before everyone had touched down, she started making her way toward their objective. She continued on until she reached the bulkhead door at the end of the corridor. It was not fully closed, only partially, allowing someone to grip between the two sections and pull them apart. She did just that. As the door slowly opened, Dentala came up behind her and lent her strength to the task. Grunting in exertion, they pulled the door apart until they could easily walk through. Kitern silently fist bumped Dentala on the shoulder in thanks before she continued on, weapon held at the ready.
As they proceeded through the derelict, signs of battle began to appear. At first, it was only a few scorch marks or kinetic impact craters on the wall. Then, what looked like dried blood from some ancient creature. It had aged into a sickly dark green color with a hint of yellow. A quick scan showed that no genetic material could be retrieved, it had long degraded into nothing. Though some sort of information could certainty be gleamed from the stain if they searched long enough, but the sample was unimportant, as it was not a focus of the mission. Pressing on, the signs of battle intensified, as well the amount of spilled blood. At one point, an entire corridor looked like it had been painted in viscera.
The team could only speculate on what had happened. Was it a mutiny? Civil war between surviving Nemesis forces trapped in the Sol system? Or perhaps the humans had something to do with it? But there was one thing on everyone’s mind as they walked through the ancient carnage. Where were the bodies? They hadn’t passed a single corpse yet, just blood stains.
“Captain Kitern, do you suppose we can slow down and so I can scan the ship a bit more? I can’t get a proper reading while moving like this,” Shavizi requested from the back. She had some sort of tool and was waving it back and forth across the surface of the corridor.
“You can scan the ship when we stop, and that will be when we get to those power signals. And once we make sure the place is secure,” Kitern responded, weapon still up at her shoulder as she swept the hallway.
“If that is your order,” Shavizi relented, but still attempted to scan everything they passed, incomplete or not.
It didn’t take long before they arrived at where the Black said the power readings were. They had weaved about the ship a bit more than desired. Several bulkhead doors were completely sealed shut, causing them to detour, but they managed it in the end. They were now standing in front of a large single door; it was nowhere near as large as the bulkhead doors that sealed off entire corridors, but it was large enough to allow passage with room to spare on all sides.
It too bore damage from whatever conflict had occurred within the ship. The door’s access panel was damaged, and the surrounding wall panels warped. Preventing them from directly interacting with the door.
“This is the place; my scanner is already picking up power readings from here. Hran, be a dear and get out the interface tools. We’ll see if this door has power first, instead of brute forcing our way through first thing,” Kass stated. Hran silently carried out his orders, unpacking a variety of tools they may need.
After pulling off several of the panels to see if they allowed access to the door’s wiring, they eventually found the right one. Sadly, a closer inspection revealed that the door, like nearly the entire ship, had no power, meaning it couldn’t be opened by the press of a button like they wanted.
“Oh well, do what you do best, Kitern,” Kass shrugged as she and Hran began packing up their tools.
“Eh, worth a shot. Privates, if you please,” Kitern motioned to the door for the two young marines to take a crack at it. They both replied with a crisp, yes ma’am, and quickly got to work trying to pry open the door.
It took a little more effort than they thought, but over time it slowly slid further and further open, until Gre’Namra wedged herself in between the door and frame, and used her entire body to push it open. Asteli joined in when it widened enough for the both of them. Together, they pushed it fully open, the door slowly recessing into the wall. Revealing an old dusty room with several long bed-like pods.
“Thank you, girls. Now clear the room while you’re at it. Though by now any baddies would have chewed you up,” Kitern ordered. The two did just that. Thankfully, the entire room could be seen from the doorway, so there really wasn’t any clearing. Just looking behind the pods for anything not so friendly.
During their little search, they noticed one bed had several lights flickering on its side. They pointed it out to the others. Immediately, Kass and Shavizi pushed them aside to get to it. Drooling over it like children being offered sweets.
“I wonder what this is?! After so many thousands of years, it still has power. I thought those beacons were incredible enough, but this is something else!” Kass said to no one in particular.
Shavizi had been scanning the bed, as well as its neighbors, while Kass looked it over. “Hmm. The pods have a sliding covering that encloses the occupants. All the others are open, yet this one is closed.” Shavizi tapped at her scanner a bit. “Wait… the other energy signature… it’s coming from inside it!” she said astonished, while moving a hand over the top of the slid that covered the pod. As she did, thousands of years’ worth of dust floated away from where she dragged her hand. Allowing a small amount of light to break free from within.
Noticing this, Shavizi leaned forward and peered inside the pod. Her eyes went wide as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “GET BACK! DON’T TOUCH IT!” she screamed, but was too late. Kass, who was now crouched down near the base of the bed, had pressed a finger to one of the flickering lights just as Shavizi yelled her warning. All Kass had time to do was turn her head up and mutter a confused, “huh?”, before the covering of the pod slid open, unleashing its occupant onto the galaxy.
First Previous
Hello once again! First things first. If you see the name Osan, please point it out to me. It is supposed to be Onsa, but the program I use to write the story changed the name to Osan for some reason. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger! This chapter is meant to help further detail the various species and their features, and of course set up for many things to come!
Also, in my last story. I had a lot of flashback sequences to add in fluff and give backstory to the MC. While I don't want overuse it in this story, I do want to have flashback esque sequences that are basically just battles of the Human-Nemesis war (recorded combat footage recovered from human ships and installations), introduce new characters, or maybe give further development to preexisting characters. The flashback sequences will be called Orphan: Tales of the Past and won't begin until a certain point in the main story. Once that point is reached, the side stories will pop up every once in a while in place of the main story chapters. Or, if I fell as if its safe to push the story ahead, you'll get the main story and a side story in one week.
That's it for the week folks! See you next week!

A slave-driving murderer had just publicly declared war on us. The cheering and applause of the people standing around us was an eerie and ominous accompaniment to the feeling of dread swelling in my chest and radiating down to my stomach. He'd captured all of them thus far. I swallowed and dropped my gaze down to the pavement as it dawned on me that all of those people had tasted freedom, and were then immediately and mercilessly hunted down and dragged back to hell.
But there was an interesting caveat there. He called us by the names O'Malley had erroneously wrote down in his ledger. The men that were chasing us that day had picked up our actual fake aliases, but then we'd killed them at the inn. It seemed that knowledge died with them– a drop of good luck in a raging downpour it seemed.
"William," I said just loud enough to catch his attention.
He turned and eyed me. "Huh? Were you talking to me?"
I lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who else would I be calling William?"
He narrowed his eyes, "It's Tovin, you spaz."
I glanced around nervously. Nobody appeared to have been listening to us. I took him by the shoulder and led him away from the crowd gathered around the picture boxes. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What am I doing?" he scoffed. "What are you doing? You know my name. What, are you playing a game right now?"
"Our aliases," I said through my teeth. "We're using fake names, remember?"
His expression changed from annoyed and confused to forlorn and somber. He swallowed and looked away. "... I'm losing it again, aren't I?" he asked.
I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want him to feel worse about it, but that would have been a dangerous slip-up in front of the wrong person. Before now, I was starting to think that Tovin back home had overblown how quickly the mental decline would be.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, passing him on the sidewalk further into the city. "Come on. We need to find a way to make some money."
"And fast," he added, trailing behind me. "We need food, clothes, and a couple of beds. And more cigarettes, too. I've only got a few left and I'm trying to make them last."
We walked the mazelike streets of Bronzegirder looking for work. I wasn't used to Diesel society yet and often found myself hung up on storefront windows that marketed all kinds of gadgets and technology. I would do my best not to stare when people walked by wearing metallic pieces on their persons.
Some wore gadgets on their forearms, some on their wrists, and others in various other areas. I wondered what purpose they served, where they were sold, and how expensive they could be. And it wasn't just the gadgets. There were far more dark-skinned people here than we had in Galgia. It was something I had read about but never experienced. They ranged from light tan all the way to almost black, and it just added to the culture shock.
There appeared to be people living in the buildings above the storefronts. The tall towers we had seen in the far distance earlier served as housing as well as business space. Diesillians stood on their balconies, some hanging wet laundry, others leaning over their railing while they enjoyed a drink or a smoke. We passed so many things I would have wanted to stop and look at were we not being hunted. DuPonte seemed awfully sure of himself when he said he'd find us, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how one would find antything they were looking for in this city.
"I'm totally lost," I admitted. "We need a map or something."
He remained quiet. I turned to speak to him more directly only to find that he wasn't behind me anymore. My stomach dropped as I looked around at the sea of people.
"William?" I called out. "William!"
It was no good. I'd have to literally scream if I wanted to breach the drone of the crowd, and I couldn't afford to draw too much attention to myself. There was also the possibility that he'd forgotten his name again anyway. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and sighed deeply before doubling back. He couldn't have wandered too far away, and he'd be easy to spot against the horde of people in more modern clothing.
I kept close to the storefronts as I picked up my pace. I began to peer into each store as I passed them. The longer I searched, the more I worried. He wasn't in his right mind. He'd get himself noticed and captured if he let too much slip, or pulled down his hood. I came to the turn we had taken after we'd left the picture boxes. He was with me at this point, I was sure of it. I turned around and swallowed as I scanned the crowd.
This was really, really, bad.
"William?" I tried again. I decided to cross the street and nearly got run over by one of their vehicles. It screeched to a stop and when I lowered my arms, I found the front of the metallic machine inches from my face.
"Git the fuck oudda da road!" shouted the pilot, shaking his fist in the air. I quickly scurried onto the opposite sidewalk and made my way down the street with the flow of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked. It was difficult to see over everyone's shoulders. Diesillians were a good deal taller than Galgians as a rule, and it made it a nightmare for an average-sized guy like myself. Just when I was about to start asking around, something caught my ear.
Something I never expected to hear– music.
I stopped in my tracks and the public parted around me like a river around a boulder. I turned toward the sound and followed my ears to a large silver pavilion nestled between two tall buildings. It looked like an empty lot that had been designed for another tall building but instead served as some sort of inner-city courtyard where live entertainment performed.
I slowly approached as a woman stood in front of a mic stand singing while a band performed with shining metallic instruments behind her. She had black hair styled in a way I'd never seen hair styled. It was pulled up and around under a hat and shined the same as her red lipstick did. But what awed me the most was that she was singing.
No danger; no combat; no sign of beasts being summoned forth. She sang beautifully, adding something to music that I had never in my life once considered because in Galgia, to sing was to slaughter. Music was a tool of war and forbidden entirely outside of such circumstances, for if one of us were even to hum, anything could come crawling out of the resulting portal.
But here she was, singing what I presumed were the words to a poem in perfect rhythm and harmony with the band that played behind her.
"You're my machine, my heart's ignition. The gears that keep my love in motion. You're the engine that never tires– the pistons set my soul on fire."
I was completely taken in. It was therefore no surprise to me that here in the crowd, I spotted Tovin watching her with equal admiration from the edge of the stage. I weaved through the crowd as politely as I was able and then stopped next to him. He glanced at me before quickly returning his eyes back to the stage. I didn't say anything to him; no words needed said so long as she was singing.
"You, my dear, a love machine, the one that keeps my bearings clean– I'm addicted to your engine's roar, your power's what I'm living for."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was talking about, but it was clearly a love song written for one lucky guy. When the song was finished, she ever so slightly lifted her ruby-red dress from the sides and took a bow. The crowd clapped, a few whistles coming from somewhere behind us.
"Thank you," she said softly into the mic. "It's important to remember that love conquers all," she said, passing her deep black eyes over us. "Hatred fades over time, but love lasts; it endures. This next song is about a long lost love and reconnection."
We stayed and listened to a couple more songs before she left the stage, and the band with her. She disappeared on promises of returning tomorrow for a second show. Of all the things thus far I had seen in the land of our enemy, something so sweet as non-weaponized music ranked among the most surprising and awe-inspiring.
As the crowd began to disperse back onto the main street, I turned to Tovin. "Hey, do me a favor and don't disappear like that. I didn't know where you were and we've got to stick together."
"Can we come back here tomorrow?" he asked, completely ignoring what I'd said. He stared at me with hopeful eyes, a small smile on his face. It still felt strange of him to ask me permission for anything, but I couldn't deny that it was a pretty magical performance.
"Only if we live that long," I answered with a heaping helping of snark. "We need money so we can get off these streets tonight. Come on, we're losing daylight."
He looked past my shoulder and suddenly pointed. "What about that?"
I turned to see a bulletin board posted on the side of a building not far from us. On it were several posts, but one of them specifically read, "200 Octim Sign-On Bonus." The two of us walked up the board and looked over the job.
"There's a sign-on bonus," Tovin said as his eyes moved down the paper. "The Empress needs you. Galgian dogs sent monsters to run amok in our fair empire. Officials are spread thin amidst heightened tensions with Galgia's military. Find and kill monsters for bounties. Seek employment at the Hunters' Barracks at 443 Alloy Avenue on the north side of town. Look for the men in uniform."
"Monsters?" I asked. "There aren't any monsters in Galgia. None in all of Aurii if our textbooks are accurate."
"You want to at least check it out?" he asked.
"I think we'd be wasting our time," I said dismissively. "We hiked through a bunch of wilderness closer to the Galgian border and we didn't see anything all night."
He folded his arms. "Then let's get our sign-on bonus and leave."
That was such a fantastic point that I pushed my palm against my forehead and visibly cringed. "Oof. Why am I so dumb?" I whined.
"I don't think you're dumb," Tovin said as he moved down the bulletin board to look at other flyers. "I think you're just honest to a fault. It never would have occurred to you to do something so underhanded."
I would never get used to compliments from Tovin. It was like watching a different person wear his body and speak with his voice. Had life at ENU really been such a drag on him?
"None of these other jobs are offering money upfront," he added, turning to face me. "Let's head to the north side of town and see if we can find Alloy Avenue."
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
The walk was long and difficult– not because it was too far, but because we had to pass so much delicious-smelling food along the way. I hadn't been sure before if Tovin was as hungry as I was, but the north side of Bronzegirder was quiet enough to hear both of our stomachs growling in concert with one another. The buildings were made of brick in the district we wandered through, and the walkways were closer to cobblestone like the kind we had back home. The roads were three times as wide, there were benches along the walkways, and they had planted trees caged in black iron gates at the trunks. The few people that strolled the sidewalks on Alloy Avenue were well-to-do, dressed in expensive-looking suits and wearing high hats with wide brims.
"I like this side of town better," Tovin said as we looked for building addresses. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see trees in the collossity."
"Goes a little against what we were taught doesn't it?" I asked.
"I don't recall being taught anything," he grumbled. "It's just another thing I somehow know."
I cast him a sympathetic glance and he didn't seem to like it. He scowled at me, "Don't you pity me."
"I'm not," I rolled my eyes. "I'd never feel bad for you Tovin, not in a thousand years."
"Just shut up," he snapped. "We're here."
He stopped in front of a brick building with an impressive stone staircase that had bronze handrails running up the length of them. At the top were two men in uniform just as the flyer had indicated. He was the first to start up the steps and I quickly followed behind him. As we passed them I took a good look at their uniforms. I could have sworn that I'd seen them somewhere before. We walked up to the glass doors and pulled them open.
A blast of warm air blew over us as we entered the building and it was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Inside was smaller than I had anticipated. I was expecting high ceilings, murals, metal artwork, and all kinds of stuff from how nice the outside looked. Instead, we found ourselves standing in a dirty lobby about the size of a headmaster's office. There were several rows of chairs dotted with people filling out forms on clipboards. At the back of the lobby was a little window with a man sitting on the other side. He was dark-skinned, had a shaved head, and bore a grisly pink scar across his cheek. He waved us forward when he noticed us.
"Let me do the talking," I whispered to Tovin, taking the lead in front of him as we made our way over; he didn't protest.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," he spoke into a microphone that relayed his voice to us through a little black device on the window. "Thinking about joining up?"
Before I could even speak, Tovin leaned onto the counter. "So when you say monsters," he adopted a skeptical look. "You mean like the ones that don't exist?"
The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, another conspiracy theorist."
"What did you call me?" Tovin shot back.
"Ahhh, ha ha," I called out loudly, pulling Tovin back by his shoulder. "My brother is better at fighting than talking," I covered quickly. "Just talk to me from here on in."
He cast me a disinterested glance before handing us both clipboards with forms attached. "Whatever. Just read the whole thing and sign the liability waiver at the bottom. He's free to deny their existence while they're chewing his face off, but the empire won't be responsible for it."
I took both of the clipboards and passed one to Tovin. The two of us sat down and began going through them– and immediately, we faced a problem. They wanted first and last names, home addresses, medical history, and something called landline numbers. Tovin and I exchanged glances; this wasn't going to work.
I stood up and slowly walked back up to the counter as I looked over the document. Every time I looked, it seemed more and more ridiculous. Blood type? Social security number? Insurance provider? I didn't know what any of this meant. It might as well have been in an entirely different language.
"Did you have a question?" asked the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, I don't have most of this information," I said, setting the clipboard down on the counter. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to just go."
"Well, hang on now," he said, reaching under the little pass-through window and retrieving the clipboard. "I take it you boys are homeless then?" he asked.
"Uhh... Yeah," I answered tentatively. Did they really have such a homeless problem that he was able to jump to that conclusion so quickly? "We don't know how to answer these questions, so thanks anyways."
"I said hang on, dammit," he called through the mic before swiveling around in his chair and pulling some kind of lever underneath it that caused it to sink lower to the floor. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. I peered through the window at his chair– it was on some kind of ball axis that allowed him to spin in it freely. I felt like every couple of minutes I was seeing something I'd never seen before. He swiveled back around and lifted his chair back up before he handing me a new form. It was more like a strip of paper with three questions on it.
Shirt size, shoe size, and pant size.
There was a second slip of paper underneath it. I looked back up at the window attendant as Tovin appeared next to me. I handed him the slip of paper and we exchanged glances.
"The empire isn't being picky right now," spoke the man through the speaker. "You'll be assigned a number, a gun, and a uniform. You won't be eligible for emergency care, and you can't be assigned to a party. It'll be just the two of you. If you're still interested, we need all the help we can get."
I shrugged at Tovin, and he got to work filling out the information. I leaned on the counter and jotted down my uniform size before signing the waiver and handing everything back. He took both of the documents and then nodded toward the door on his right. "Come on back."
He reached under the table and did something that caused the door to make a whirring sound. It popped open on its own, and he thumbed us over to it. "Close it on your way in. Walk straight down the hall and through the third door on your left. Your hunter number is 27B and his is 28B."
We walked down the hallway and found the designated door already opened and with a sign on the inside that read, "Uniforms HERE" with an arrow pointing into the room. We were met by a portly woman with bouncy curls that hung down to her shoulders. She sat behind a desk absolutely surrounded by hanging uniforms, all kept in clear covering. She sized us up with a retractable ruler– the coolest ruler I had ever seen. After she took our measurements, she began sifting through uniforms.
"Why did they ask us for our sizes if they were going to measure us?" Tovin grumbled.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Just be quiet."
"Don't tell me to be quiet," he shot back, elbowing me in the ribs.
She turned around holding two suits by the hangers, one in each hand. "Your uniforms will come out of your first bounty collected," she announced. "No money needed upfront. Change into them and make sure they fit." We took them from her and she breezed past us. "Holler out here when you're changed." She closed the door behind her.
We turned away from one another and began getting dressed. I pulled back the crinkly clear material and looked down at the uniform. Now that I was seeing it closer, it was actually an extremely dark shade of blue, rather than black as I had thought prior. I looked down at the hat and held it in my hands. I had seen it before. Then, all at once, it came rushing back to me.
These were the uniforms of the men that had come to the mine. They had come carrying guns to inspect the worksite after what had happened to Hammer. Skully must have thought a monster had gotten to him based on the state of his body. I stared down at the uniform in disbelief. Could monsters really be running around in Diesel territory?
"You better not be looking over here," Tovin warned.
They had mistaken what Tovin had done for a monster attack. Skully's "fonekall" wasn't a pilgrimage. It was some form of long-distance communication. She reached out to the capital to request aid from someone, and they sent these guys. I began to wonder if I was making a mistake. If we could be dispatched like that, then we could feasibly be sent back to the camp.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We were only in it for the sign-on bonus. Once we had that in our hands, we'd be outta here. We could even jump to the next town. They knew nothing about us other than our clothing size. We could be dust in the wind by tomorrow morning.
I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and quickly got dressed. The uniform fit perfectly, it was comfortable, and best of all had been designed with a high collar. It covered our neck markings perfectly. I turned to see Tovin with the hat on already. He looked like a classic Diesel villain from a comic book I had read as a kid.
"It fits nice," he said, testing the range of motion he had in his arms. "I think this will work."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Let's get our money and get the hell out."
"Speaking my language," he smirked.
He moved for the door and leaned out, calling for the attendant. I looked at myself in the full-body mirror and did a quick turnaround. I had to admit, I looked pretty darn stylish. The white gloves, belt, and hat looked pretty good against the dark blue and gold buttons.
The woman returned and smiled at both of us, her curls bouncing as she tossed her gaze cartoonishly left and right between us. "You two look good!"
"Thanks," I smiled back. "When do we get our sign-on bonus?"
"Oh, don't worry about that just yet," she said, moving back to her desk. "Do you boys know how to shoot?" she asked as she sat down.
"Shoot?" Tovin asked.
"A gun," she clarified, her smile fading. "Have either of you shot a gun?"
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Our parents didn't let us near them growing up."
"That's no problem," she said, lifting her hands. "We're happy to teach you the basics. You'll just exit the room and go left down to the very end of the hallway. I'll buzz you through the double doors at the end, and Old Mitchell will take you from there."
Tovin audibly groaned, and I took him by the arm, leading him out of the room. We walked down the hallway as he bellyached about what a waste of time it was. It was unlike him to turn his nose up at the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of a new weapon. In fact, he'd been acting weirdly childish lately. I didn't like it. It beat dealing with Tovin-Classic, but it was still a hassle. As we neared the end of the hallway, we began hearing the sound of guns being fired one by one.
The doors buckled and hummed the same as the first door had, and we pushed them open. We passed into a large room with Diesillians shooting at targets a good distance away. This was why the building was so large and the lobby was so small. The brick walls were covered in informational and safety posters, as well as what appeared to be schematics for the weapons themselves.
I looked across the large room to see a man striding toward us. He was wearing shiny black boots that were laced tightly to his calves. His pants and jacket were hunter green, and he bore perhaps the silliest mustache I'd ever seen; It was long and curled at the tips. I had to be careful not to snicker– his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I couldn't tell if he was watching me.
"New recruits?" he called out to us from entirely too far away.
"Yes sir," I called back. "My brother and I just signed up."
"Brothers!" he exclaimed. "I love it, dammit!" He stopped in front of us. He was chewing on something and was being as obnoxious as he possibly could about it. He was wearing perhaps the stupidest hat I had seen of the Diesel yet. It had no visible brim and was high on one side while sloping down toward the other. For the life of me, I couldn't discern the purpose of it.
"You boys know how to shoot?" he asked.
"No sir," I shook my head. "We're new at this."
"Good," he smiled widely. "That means you haven't formed any bad habits yet. I love newbies," he said before waving for us to follow him. "Come on, let's get you your rifles. I'm Mitch, but folks around here call me Old Mitchell."
"James," I said as I followed after him. "This is my brother William." It was difficult to talk over the noise of the weapons. I occasionally jumped when someone shot their gun nearby– a reflex I couldn't wait to be rid of. He led us to a small room; so small that it might as well have been a glorified safe. He disappeared inside and came back out holding two guns. The same long metal tubes Tovin and I had been attacked with at O'Malley's inn.
We each took one and promptly inspected it. Suddenly, Old Mitchell stepped forward and grabbed both of our guns by the barrel, lifting them so they were pointed at the ceiling.
"You boys ever even held one of these?" he barked. "Careful where you aim. Never point one of these at anything or anyone that you're not prepared to destroy."
"They sweep you, Mitch?" asked a man as he passed behind us.
"Pointed 'em right at me," he called back with a laugh. "We'll get 'em straightened out, don't you worry about that." He looked at us both, chewing aggressively. "Now I'm gonna let these rifles go. You keep 'em pointed up, you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"Sure," Tovin said in a disinterested tone.
He let go of our rifles and we kept them pointed at the ceiling as we were told. I looked up and down the length of the tube before turning it over and inspecting the area under the barrel. It was split underneath with what looked like some kind of spring running along the length of the tube.
"They're not loaded," Mitch said, waving for us to follow him to the other side of the room. "But you will always treat them like they are. I'm going to show you how to load them over here. Set them down on the desk, I'm gonna stand between the two of you so I can watch you both."
I set my gun down in front of me and looked to my right. There was a box of what I presumed to be bullets. I expected them to be round pellet-like projectiles, but they were tubular with roughly textured heads on them.
"Turn your weapon over. You'll notice you can see a spring inside the bottom of the barrel. Close to the other end of your gun, you'll find a little round tab there. Take that tab and push it with your thumb all the way up toward the tip of the barrel. You'll then pop it out to the side there."
I did as he asked, and sure enough, the barrel popped out to the left at the tip of the weapon. I glanced over at Tovin who was struggling with the spring. Old Mitchell moved over and helped him with it. "Sometimes they get stuck," he muttered as he got Tovin to the same step I was at.
"Now," he shouted. "Take your ammunition right there in the box next to you, and begin placing the rounds into the underside of the barrel, flat side first. Then, you'll load more bullets into the gun overlapping one another. Be careful not to let the rounds collide with one another too heavily, or you could have a little accident."
I loaded the bullets carefully one after another until the barrel was about full. He checked on Tovin's rifle, and then inspected mine.
"Good. Now realign the barrel, there and come with me to the bay," he said, starting toward the practice range. I carefully lifted the weapon and rested it against my shoulder, turning with Tovin to follow him. When we stopped at the range, he motioned for Tovin first. "Come on, Will, we're gonna start with you."
"Pass," he said nonchalantly.
Old Mitchell blinked twice. "What?"
"I want to see Gill do it first," he said, stepping out of my way.
"It's a nickname," I said quickly, stepping up to the range. "Anyways, I'll go first, I don't mind, what do I do here?"
Mitch remained silent for a couple of seconds before clapping his hands once. "Okay! Well, go ahead and pull the hammer back."
I looked down at the weapon and then back up at him. Sensing my confusion, he carefully reached forward and pulled back a little tiny lever on the top of the rifle until it clicked. "That's called pulling the hammer back," he said. "Will, you watching this?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Next thing you're gonna do is pull that lever out underneath the gun. That's going to load the weapon with a fresh cartridge. You're gonna do that between every shot, now. Lift it up against your shoulder like this; get it snug in there." He pulled it against my shoulder. "Look down the iron sight there at the tip of the rifle and line it up against your target. Your weapon is primed and ready to fire. You're good for fifteen shots before you've got to reload. You can always flip it over to see how many bullets are left. Go ahead and aim carefully, and try and hit that target paper down there."
At the end of the range, there was a piece of paper with a silhouette of a human head, shoulders, and torso. I closed one eye for better aim and held the gun tightly as I lined up my shot.
"Don't pull the trigger," Mitch advised in my left ear. "Squeeze it. Squeeze the trigger until it doesn't move easily anymore. Then when you're sure about your aim, squeeze with just that little bit of extra strength you need."
I did as he said, and felt what he was referring to. With my target in sight, my hand steady, and my aim as true as I could hope for, I fired the weapon. The shot rang out right in my ear, but interestingly enough, it wasn't so bad when I was the one firing. I was ready for it, and expecting it.
"Holy smokes!" exclaimed Mitch. "You put one right between the eyes!"
"Beginners's luck," said a man from behind me. "I did the same thing first time I shot, and never did it again."
"Let's prove him wrong, James," Old Mitchell laughed. "Now use that lever under the gun to eject the casing and load a fresh bullet."
I pulled the lever and the shiny little bullet casing popped out the top and flew over my shoulder. It was a really satisfying feeling.
"Do I pull the hammer again? I asked.
"Nope, it'll pop back down. You'll only pull that hammer back the first time. Go ahead and fire again, only this time, aim for the neck."
"Alright," I said, closing my eye and tightening my focus. I squeezed the trigger just as I had the first time and shot a hole straight through the center of the target's neck. I lifted my head and smiled. "I hit it!"
"No way," said the man behind me. "Ain't never shot before, my ass. He's taking you for a ride, Mitch."
"You're sure you're new at this, son?" Old Mitchell asked, one eye half shut. "That's really impressive, kid. Seriously, if this is your first time holding a rifle, you might be cut out for the military. Had a staff sergeant with worse aim than you."
"Alright, alright," Tovin pushed me aside. "My turn. Let me show you something you'll never forget."
The two of us took turns shooting for hours. We hadn't even noticed the time going by. For once, it seemed Tovin had found something he wasn't naturally amazing at, and it was infuriating him to no end.
Conversely, I found something I was really, really good at. I hit my target almost every time, and to be honest, I couldn't figure out what was so difficult about it. A crowd had gathered to watch me shoot. I got really swift with the lever, and could shoot out both of a target's eyes, and put one in its forehead in a matter of seconds.
Tovin wasn't a bad shot, but I knew how he felt. If he wasn't first, he was last as far as he was concerned, and at one point he about threw his rifle. Old Mitchell had to talk to him about how some things come naturally to others, and how he shouldn't be discouraged from coming to the range and practicing.
It was rich hearing Tovin get that talk of all people. The natural genius that outshined everyone, struggling with something for the very first time. I almost couldn't believe I was better than him at something, and of course, it just had to be the thing that we'd never do again once we found our friends and went back home.
Our friends.
We were wasting time here. "Hey, Mitchel," I turned toward him. "When do we get our sign-on bonus? It was supposed to be something like 200 octims."
"You get your sign-on bonus when you bring back your first bounty," he responded quickly.
"What?" Tovin shouted. "That's not fair! We signed on, now where's our money?"
I was equally upset. We were lied to. But it made sense that they couldn't just hand us uniforms, cash, and a gun, and let us go. They wanted to make sure we at least killed a monster.
"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "Where can we find bounties?"
"It's not fine," Tovin protested.
I yanked him by the collar of his shirt and looked him in the eyes. "It's fine," I said slowly and firmly. "We'll run out, bag a monster, and be back before dark."
He held eye contact with me for several seconds before shrugging me off of him and walking away. He stormed across the bay and left through the double doors at the other end of the room.
"My brother was the same way," said Mitch. "Hard-headed. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal as anyone you'd ever meet though."
He had no idea. Tovin wasn't just difficult, but he was turning into a walking liability. I didn't know how much longer I could take him acting like this. Suddenly, Mitch extended his arm, pointing to a door adjacent to where he'd gotten our guns from.
"Bounty board is in there. Come on, I'll show you."
It was a medium-sized room with several corkboards wall to wall filled with bounties. Every monster was named and almost all of them were sketched to a professional degree. You could find how much money the monster was going for, which hunters it had killed, where it was last seen, as well as whether or not there were hunters currently after it.
They had a system where you would notate which monster you were going after, and if you didn't return, they'd add your name under the list of hunters that died searching for it. There were so many monsters I couldn't believe it, and according to Old Mitchell, these were only the monsters within a five-mile radius of Bronzegirder.
I learned the process of choosing a bounty and chose a smaller monster with no names under its fatality list. Mitch agreed it was a good monster for beginners, and offered a few pointers for tracking it. I submitted the bounty request and got it approved before leaving the bay and heading down the hall in search of Tovin. I entered the lobby and didn't see him. I left the building and found him at the top of the steps staring out into the street where a couple of vehicles were hauling something massive together under a tarp.
Several uniformed hunters were walking slowly next to the vehicles. Their uniforms were tattered and bloodstained, and a few of them walked with a limp. We watched as the exhausted men passed the building on their way down the road. Two of them were sobbing silently, but we could tell by their exposed teeth and wrinkled expressions that they'd lost someone.
From beneath the tarp, a scaly limb fell off the side of the vehicle and dangled lifelessly. It was a reptilian-looking arm with an open wound, and the shredded remnants of a uniform hanging from its claws.
"Gill," Tovin said quietly. "Is that..."
"Yeah," I answered.
"That's definitely a monster."
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope

I work as a dishwasher at a very busy restaurant/bar. On average I work 10-12 hour shifts with lots of unpaid overtime that makes our shifts last 14-15 hours. The job is extremely busy on Friday to Sunday, originally we had a decent number of staff but most quit and on average lasts less than two weeks due to people feeling overworked and barley able to have a break.
I worked yesterday and came in at 12pm and the job was busy the entire shift, tons of dishes stacked so high and I was scheduled to work alone. There was at least 3000 dishes or more as more and more started to pile up as the shift progressed. I’m working alone and it’s now 6pm. I’ve had zero bathroom breaks, haven’t drank anything the entire day and was very dehydrated and tired from having to do all of this alone. I continue working for about another hour as it approaches 7:30. My shift ends at ten and I’ve hadn’t had any kind of break. I decide to take my half hour break at 7:30 to get some fresh air, not even five minutes later I get called by a manager freaking out asking where I am. I said “I’ve been working since 12pm I need to sit and eat”. My manager tells me I’m not allowed to have a break when it’s busy and that I need to come back to work immediately. I was exposed to Covid last week and called out for a shift so I went back because I felt like I owed them but as soon as I come back I’m getting so much attitude from my employers and co-workers for having a break. My manager then says that “once you get all these dishes done we can consider a break”. My shift ends at 10pm and finally around 9 another dishwasher finally shows up to help but it was already too late as my shift was basically over. I worked the whole shift without a break and I usually work shifts without a break but a month ago I was put in the hospital after a shift due to dehydration and was told by doctors to not overwork myself so it’s very important I allow myself to have a break. I’m not sure if they’re allowed to not give us a break.

Hello fellow sysadmins. I never post on here, but I would like to warn other system administrators of ever investing in / or recommending customers to invest in: Logitech Meeting Room solutions. The cameras are great, the tab itself is great, the Mic is also good - however the computer (in my case Intel NUC) they bundle with the system is absolute garbage, and they completely neglect their responsibility in distribution said garbage.
Each week we have issues with the working systems, they need to be restarted due to freezes, HDMI bugs (TV does not recognize the computer) and other weird stuff. This is just unacceptable for something that should just work, and is that expensive.
Recently one of the computers (intel NUC) just stopped working and we had to get Logitech to do a RMA. This is where hell starts:
1) The first replacement we get, initially works OK, it is annoying having to spend time setting it all up again, thousand of updates etc, however we manage.
2) After a few weeks the RMA starts making incredibly high fan noises, and I immediately recognize that the fan casing is broken so this unit has to be replaced too
3) Already we have had way too many off days for a product that should be working consistently. People start to lose faith in the system.
4) The new RMA arrives, but it is imaged with a way to old Windows version on it, and the Microsoft Teams Room software does not work, however it is not possible to update it because the Windows version running on the computer is too old. Windows won't update because Microsoft Teams Room is blocking the install - so it is in a deadlock, wtf.
5) I ask Logitech who should be paying for all these hours we spend trying to get their shitty hardware to work, and they don't care obviously. They want us to follow specific instructions to buy USB stick -> reimage the system -> set it up again again.
6) I'm done, it might not seem like a lot, however I'm just so angry and exhausted and have sworn never to recommend or buy anything from logitech again.

This is the beginning chapter of a long, space-opera sci-fi writing project I have been working on for several months now. I’m currently almost 60k words into it at the time of writing, and am planning on publishing it in full as a novel when I’m done, but I haven’t really shared it with anyone outside my immediate family and a couple friends.
…Normally, I’d post this type of thing on HFY, but in all honesty it doesn’t really paint humans in a very good light most of the time and focuses on the other species involved a for a majority of the time, so it wouldn’t really fit there.
Additionally, while the HASO-ness isn’t too obvious for a few chapters, I promise, we will get there in time.
I don’t know how often I’ll be uploading these, especially given that I’m still not done with it, and have little free time to spend on writing these days; all the same, you can expect plenty of entries over the next few weeks.
In the meantime, feel free to leave your thoughts, any constructive criticisms, etc in the comments. And as always, I hope you enjoy :)
——

CHAPTER 1

Her arm hurt.
She was so, so tired...
Her arm hurt.
She was numb to the cold at this point, but kept shivering anyway.
Her arm hurt.
The only thing close to heat that she felt was the inflammation that was serving to add more throbbing pain to her arm.
…Which hurt, in case that wasn’t clear.
She turned her head to look at it, wincing from the pain the movement caused. It was ugly to behold, with a ragged stab wound in the muscles of her forearm near the elbow that was still slowly trickling blood, but that wasn’t even the worst part of it. She knew from experience that the needle-sharp pain she felt with every slight movement meant that some bone in there- probably the radius or ulna- was also either hairline-fractured or broken entirely.
…And just in case you weren’t aware, fun fact:
It hurt.
A lot.
The pain was only exacerbated by the swollen tissues and irritation around the stab wound that she knew meant it was definitely infected- with what, she could only guess. Whatever it was, she could feel the fever it was causing having a desperate tug-of-war with the cold autumn air to determine her body temperature.
When she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer, she leaned her head back, resting it against the dew-filled grass of the ditch she was lying in and looking up at the star-filled night sky that was slowly lightening to that hue of dark indigo that meant dawn was close, but not quite there.
She used to think the stars were beautiful. But as she lay there, the dreadful memories of what had led to this moment playing over and over in her head… Suffice to say, nothing in this world or outside of it seemed beautiful anymore.
She put the aesthetics of the sky aside and instead struggled to focus her thoughts through the haze of fatigue and pain.
Dawn approaching… That has to mean I’ve been laying here… Jeez, it must be almost an entire day at this point. …I think. It hasn’t been multiple days, surely… Or maybe it’s been-
…Oh, to hell with it. I don’t even care at this point…
She was too tired to sleep, but in too much pain to move. Her brain was fogged from fatigue, and even more so from the constant screaming coming from her nerve endings, desperately trying to let her know that yes, something was very wrong with her arm, she got it, thanks for the message, you can stop now-
…But mostly, the fog stemmed from that draining emotional and mental exhaustion that came with periods of grief. A single tear ran down her face from her already overworked tear ducts, nearly reaching the bruises on her neck before it was wiped away by the shaky fingers of her good arm.
The sky would be there for her to look at later. She needed to try (yet again) to rest, just one more time.
“You know what they say,” she murmured to herself. “76th time’s the charm.”
Delirious with exhaustion and the fever as she was, she couldn’t help herself from chuckling at the thought. Her eyes, bloodshot and burning from the strain she had endured, lazily looked around at what few constellations she could recognize for one last time, and spotted the pattern of Orion in the night sky.
Hey big O, close the door on your way out, eh? I’m gonna try and take a snooze.
She snorted, wincing as she did.
…Finding my own jokes funny. Jesus, I am delirious…
She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, willing herself to please, please just go to sleep already, because sleep meant being unconscious, and being unconscious meant she could ignore the pain from her arm for a while. And to her surprise, she finally started drifting off. Her breath slowed, the fog visible in the cold air in front of her mouth coming less and less often as she drifted closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
As a result, she barely even heard the soft humming noise approaching, and almost didn’t feel herself being gently, almost imperceptibly lifted off the ground. When she noticed it, what parts of her mind that were still semi-conscious brushed it off as either a dream or hallucination, and slipped behind the wall of sleep…
…For all of two minutes. She wasn’t getting off that easy.
She was jolted awake by a sudden feeling of what could only be described as compression across her whole body, though “compression” hardly did it justice; It was as though she were being squeezed through a drinking straw. …Yet before she could react, the feeling was over.
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly-lit room, alive with that same strange humming noise from before. She crinkled her nose at the smell that assailed her nostrils. It was strange, like a combination of various industrial cleaners, engine grease, and ozone. She rubbed her eyelids before she groggily looked around, confused. Where was she? She turned her head and saw a very strange-looking machine that was seemingly floating in midair. She craned her neck, looking past it, and her eyes widened at what she saw glowing through a small, circular viewing window in the nearby wall.
Was that- …Earth?
She slowly, gingerly sat up, wincing from the protests her arm gave at her daring to do such a thing. It took everything in her, but she slowly dragged herself closer to the window, peering out at the planet slowly circling in the void below her. There was no doubt about it, that was Earth. She recognized North and South America, Greenland, even a portion of the northern Arctic. She could even see all the wildfires burning as a result of-
…Well, everything collectively hitting the fan in the past week.
Tilting her head, she could see the exterior of the… building? Satellite? Space station? …Whatever it was she was apparently on, that was outside the window. Gun-metal gray and covered in strange symbols in a language she didn’t recognize, it was unlike anything she’d seen before- and it wasn’t alone.
She saw several other similar… things, floating nearby. They ranged in size from the relatively small, around the size of a house, to absolutely massive ones that she estimated must be miles across. She shook her head in disbelief and laid her head back down on the cold metal floor.
Ok, scratch that, she was obviously still asleep; after all, this had to be the weirdest dream she’d ever had…
Suddenly, a scraping, screeching noise rang through the room, startling her. She looked around and saw a tall, lanky, shadowy figure entering the room they were in as it finished sliding open the metal door that was the source of the noise. Without warning, the room was aglow with a bright light from overhead, causing her to wince and close her eyes. She rubbed her eyelids again, trying to ignore the irritation the action caused, and looked back at the figure, eyes widening as they adjusted to the light- and then even wider, as she froze in place with a gasp at what she saw.
The… creature standing over her was like some horrific combination of a reptile and insect. Its frame was slim and bipedal, with limbs proportioned far longer than any normal human. It towered over her, easily seven feet tall or more. Its head was like that of a praying mantis minus the antennae, with three chameleon-like eyes. The first eye was symmetrically centered in the forehead, the other the two mirrored on the sides of its head where the temples on a human head would be, and all three were very intently focused on her. On its face was a glowing, bioluminescent set of growths all down the front, forming a v-shaped, curving pattern that almost looked like a deranged smile, but its real mouth hid behind a pair of razor-sharp mandibles on its jawline that clicked together a few times as she watched.
Its hide was dark gray and shiny, almost metallic, somewhere between reptilian scales and an insectoid carapace, and generally looked like it would be at home in an H.R. Giger painting. The bioluminescent growths on its face continued down to its torso in three vertical, parallel lines, growing larger as they went further down. Each gangly arm ended in four chitin-covered fingers, tipped with razor-sharp claws.
The only thing even remotely resembling clothing it was wearing was something that looked like a long skirt or kilt, which would probably almost look funny if it weren’t for the fact that the material it was made of almost looked like human skin. From what she saw of the legs underneath it, they were digitrade and almost like those of a bird, with three toes in front and one facing backwards, all with very long claws on them, but no feathers could be seen- just more of that sickly-gray chitinous carapace.
It stood there for a second, silently watching her as she sat there trembling, now more from fear than cold or fever, before all its glowing growths suddenly began to gleam blood-red, and it reached out towards her with one of its clawed arms whilst making a terrifying noise- like the hiss of a cat mixed with the warning signal of a rattlesnake.
Her adrenaline spiked, and the various subdivisions of her brain responsible for survival instincts went into overdrive.
Each presented their findings for peer review: THING. BIG. DEADLY. SCARY.
They rapidly formed a committee and held a brief conference as to the good and proper response to this interesting new development. The vote was both swift and unanimous:
RUN.
The adrenaline surge gave her the endurance she needed to ignore the pain and scramble backwards before finally getting enough traction on the metal floor to get to her feet, turn, and run screaming through the opposite doorway, getting away from the monster as fast as she could.
——
Y’ggdrasog flinched at the sudden movement of the human scrambling awkwardly to her feet with the help of her unbroken arm before sprinting away from him whilst emitting a high-pitched noise he was unfamiliar with, presumably of distress. For a moment, he just stood there, puzzled. What was she doing, and why? All he had done was say “Hello.” Then he remembered himself, and figured he should probably resolve the situation before she bumbled her way out of the airlock or something. He called after her:
<”Wait- please, stop! I mean you no harm! …Why in the name of the spirits above are you running away from-”>
His eyes widened, his bioluminescence rapidly shifting to a bright white as he realized.

He tapped the side of his head to bring up his cranial implant’s heads-up-display interface and quickly went through a few drop-down menus. Finally finding the setting he was looking for, he turned the software back on and then started to run after her. He shook his head as he went, irritated at himself as his bioluminescence changed to an annoyed green to match.

He let out a frustrated sigh and just kept following the loud, high-pitched noises, wincing as he did so.
His ears hurt.

Introduction

Howdy!
I’m Ronin: a dice-rolling dork who plays ways too many RPGs and TTRPGs, owns way too many swords (mostly katana) and set of samurai armor, and has an appreciation for Akira Kurosawa. If you can’t tell, I have a deep interest in Japanese history and culture. Hence this particular thread!
I’m craving to write this bad boy yakuza character of mine. While a more in-depth character sheet will be linked below, here’s a short summary about him to get you interested:
Miyamoto, Ryusuke is the only son of Tokyo’s most infamous oyabun and heir to the largest yakuza crime syndicate in Japan. Rising within the city’s underground alongside his crew, Ryusuke is making a name for himself on the streets, and trying to step out of his father’s shadow.
And the character sheet (with a few additional writing samples of mine):
Miyamoto, Ryusuke
But before I get ahead of myself, here’s a bit about me and what I’m looking for:

• My minimum for a post is around 300 words, my max 1000+, depending on the scene and characters involved, and my average 500. Quality is more valued over quantity. I’m a strong supporter of posting what comes naturally to the scene.
• I write third-person, past tense.
• I promise at least a post a week, with the possibility of more. I will never pressure you for a post, and would appreciate the same courtesy. If you need a break, I understand. We can always come back to our story in the future, if it’s of interest to you.
• As I am getting further into my twenties, I am only open to writing with people 18 and over. It’s just a comfort thing, no offense to all the wonderful young writers out there!
• OOC communication is appreciated; please let me know if you’re not vibing with anything, and I’ll be happy to address it.
• Romance! I enjoy it. Give me some angst and some slow-burns, though our characters have to have chemistry.
• While I can (and enjoy!) write side characters of any and all genders, at the moment, I want to main males.
• LGBTQ+ welcome! While I’m mostly looking to write Ryu against a female character (the gender of the writer doesn’t matter to me), I’m happy to include any pairings on the side.
• Preferably you’re open to darker themes, as this will be taking place within the criminal underworld. Please let me know your limits.
• For OOC communication, I only use Discord. For IC posting, I’m open to Discord or Google Docs.

Plots For Ryusuke

CRAVING: No Sunrise—the zombie apocalypse plot with my boys.
As a note, I am not married to these. If you have an idea you think would suit the character, feel free to pitch it to me! These are just some of my my own.
Take Me To Church
Ryusuke and your character used to date, but his increased involvement with his father’s syndicate strained their relationship, until it eventually broke. But now your character needs his help, and they have nowhere else to turn. Their friend / sister, who worked as a hostess, has disappeared, and the cops aren’t doing anything about it. Your character needs someone with underground connections to help find her; yet what they’re about to stick their noses into is another yakuza organization’s turf. The stakes are high.
The Arrangement
Your character is a famous popstar / actress / ect., who tries to escape the limelight for a night by diving into a small, hole-in-the-wall bar. A fellow patron becomes pushy, not only refusing to take no for an answer, but getting suspicious of your character’s true identity, so she acts fast by grabbing the nearest male and proclaiming him to be her boyfriend.
The lucky guy just happens to be Ryusuke, and an off duty journalist takes pictures of the famous actress and her new yakuza boy toy.
The tabloids have a field day. Not wanting to fan the fires further with the truth coming out or a sudden break-up, your character gets Ryusuke to agree to fake a relationship with her, at least until the storm of bad press passes.
No Sunrise
The outbreak happens within minutes; the city falls within hours. A virus causing the infected to turn into zombies — think All of Us are Dead — ravages Tokyo.
Our characters, a small group, are stuck together as everything crashes down. Maybe they’re strangers, or a group of friends with some secrets and recent bad blood; whatever the case, they happen to be in the same room, on ground zero, at the start of the end of the world. Whether if that room is a bar, apartment complex, or college campus — I’m open to any and all ideas.
Looking for someone willing to write multiple characters (I will be as well), and leaning toward our group knowing each other previously, with some recent drama between them that’s going to make relationships strained.

Conclusion

Like what you see? Then please send me a DM, along with a writing sample. You can find mine in Ryu’s character sheet link.
Thanks for stopping by!

Hey, first post here but second post ever on this website. My partner and I are experiencing what I think is potentially a toxic situation and potentially a dangerous one physically as well. About a year ago my partner and I, who were dating long distance decided to make the jump and move in with each other. My partners former lease was up in September of the year we moved in together and I moved in May from the United States to Canada to live with him. This was such a big move for me and for him but we also had a mutual friend (since we all game together and this is how we met) who was in need of a change and we all decided to go in on a place together. Big crazy plan but my partner and this roommate have also been friends since they were eight. Our hope was that after spending two years together gaming and talking everyday that we knew enough about each other and we’re close enough friends to make it work. On September 1 of 2022 my partner, his child hood best friend and myself moved into this apartment together and at first the red flags weren’t really red flags with this guy. He seemed a little absent minded and would do things like leave the oven on or the balcony door open (we’re on the fifth floor and have two cats) as well as leave a mess after making food, not cleaning up his dishes after eating, always ordering out, never remembering to pay anyone for something they purchased(We often have one person pay for dinner and everyone e-transfers that person) this guy never sends the money. None of these things plus more to come seemed like anything to worry about because this guy drove a crossed Canada from London, Ontario to Victoria, British Columbia. He also had his parents going through a divorce at the time of his move, which was a big reason he decided to come here. I wrote off all of these behaviours as someone just being overwhelmed from moving a big distance and having such a life altering experience. A little bit more background on this guy is that he does have some mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, and ADHD. I have my own mess of Bipolar II etc and my partner has his own anxiety and depress he struggles with. We’re very aware of how much your mental health can affect your day and actions and I think pretty empathetic towards someone having a bad or off day.
With all of those red flags being ignored were now into March and nothing has changed. In fact gotten worse given his constant resistance to being asked to clean up after himself. I understand there is a level of discomfort there when someone asks you to clean up after yourself and this dude gives such bad energy and so many awful vibes and becomes unpleasant, quiet and moody shifting the entire energy of the apartment. After being up all night and eating/making food it will be everywhere. If he makes ramen his package is in one counter, the powder and sauce another (left with sauce and powder everywhere), his dish he used sometimes has the utensil with it but sometimes the bowl is in one area and the utensil another. If he orders out his dinner / containers will be left all over the couch/living room area along with any clothes he discarded. Mostly socks, tuks and jackets. I will voluntarily move these things and place them in front of his door on on his computer chair or in a space near his things so that I can finish cleaning. I don't roughly throw them or treat his things poorly I just place them somewhere new.
The cleaning is a huge thing for me personally. I enjoy things to be much more tidy than usual and I’m aware and willing to put in the extra effort. I can’t keep up with this guy. I’ll spend hours cleaning surfaces, dusting, reorganizing, floors, garbage, recycle, dishes… you get the point. If I’m done cleaning at 3PM and I go do something’s and homie is left with the apartment to himself by the time morning comes it will look like I did nothing. Food stains some how I kid you not, everywhere. Crumbs, dirty dishes, half empty Gatorade bottles strewn wherever, alcoholic beverages thrown wherever, food containers thrown wherever. I also wrote it off because I do like things to always be tidy and thought I was being a bit OCD about the whole thing and I understand that not everyone is like that. I've been keeping this in mind lately and giving them a chance to come back to their mess and clean it up, but it will sit there for days. Literal days. It’s so disheartening to spend hours on our apartment and have this guy just tornado through with zero intention of ever doing a chore.
He has never swept or mopped or vacuumed. Never dusted or done the dishes. If he takes out the garbage he never replaces the bag and the few times he’s attempted the dishes he opens the dishwasher and then sits on the couch to watch TV and puts aWay maybe four dishes. I’ll walk by a few times over the next few hours and he just sits there staring at the Tv or texting on his phone and he seems catatonic while doing this. He will also do these things while operating the stove and oven. I only bring this up because he will be completely zoned into his phone for an hour while boiling water he wants for mac and cheese. He'll be standing next to the stove with the steam going crazy and it will be at least 10 minutes before he'll move to do anything even after my partner and I say something to him. And it's so hard to say something because you're watching a literal human stand next to a stove with water boiling and steam going(We have sensitive fire alarms that he has set off multiple times from heating pizza in the oven without a tray and having toppings and cheese drip to cause smoke.) It's crazy to me that after the first time the fire alarm was set off like this he did not think to clean the oven before doing it the next time. He is the only one in the apartment who uses the oven really since a lot of the food my partner and I cook can be done on the stove-top. So when we ask who left the oven on (we know it's him) but he will flat out deny ever having used the oven or say he did shut it off. He also seems angry that we keep reminding him that the stove or oven is on. I guess I can see that it can be annoying or you could feel like a child but.... hello?
This morning my partner and I got up with the oven still being on and plates all over the couch from roommate reheating some pizza. We literally ask him and have conversations about turning the oven off everytime it gets left on. It's probably a conversation that we have once or twice a week. This is a huge trigger because we are in the mindset of saving as much as we can because we want a house together and we split all the bills three ways. It's really unfair that our electricity bill in an apartment reaches over $300 for a month because we live with someone who does not shut off the TV. Does not shut off his Computer. Leaves the oven on all night multiple nights. He even turns our heating unit on to 80+ and will leave it on all night long. My boyfriend and I go to bed at 9PM ish and I won't even realize the heat is on until probably 11 or 12 the next day on my lunch break. I put something in his room once while I was cleaning and happened to glance at his floor heater thermostat which was turned all the way up and probably has been since winter here in Victoria has started. My partner will tell me how much the electricity bill is every month and it blows my mind. FOR REAL. LIKE HOW
We are all gamers and Dragon flight just released a bit ago. This was a huge turning point for me. I had just started a new job as well and did not have as much time to clean things or to lay the new expansion. I would say we’re decent gamers in that content gets released and we’ll clear heroic plus do high keys in M+ but we also enjoy other games. My partner is an elevator mechanic and works long days too so the two of us just could not dedicate as much time to gaming as our roommate could. This lead to him and my partners identical twin brother being relentlessly mean and toxic over the two of us making mistakes during content. Making mistakes in this context being missing a mechanic that caused our death in a fight during raid and M+. What I mean by being relentlessly mean is that when a death occurs you hear only the sound of screams. Someone saying "Come on guys what the fuck. WHAT THE FUCk. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. WERE TRYING TO CLEAR CONTENT YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE A MISTAKE." I'm really not kidding here. As well as being spoken down to and so much of it was passive aggressive. Just also insinuating that my partner and I are complete retards (excuse my use of this word but really that's how they were framing it) because we can't play for that long and while we did watch videos on the fights both for dungeons and raid it's different when you're playing. Especially for me since I heal. It's one thing to know the mechanics and another to figure out where best to use things. THis requires pulls and pulls and errors and corrections. I've been a raider for awhile and progression is sort of the point. You review the fight you do a few pulls you figure out the error you fix that another one comes up and you're on repeat. These two made it such an unenjoyable experience! The worst part is we could understand why they were frustrated. They had more time to play and pugged the raid a few times before we ever did it together as a group. I guess they expected the same of my partner and I, but the reason we had not done content together is well.. we had to work and when we aren't working we're cleaning and World of Warcraft is a huge time commitment. We just did not have the same amount of time but for whatever reason we're being held to the same standards.
My partner and I basically stopped playing with the two of them. I would make myself completely busy inside the apartment on our roommates day off or I would play another game entirely until my partner got home and then we we do some content together but it only lasted maybe an hour before things just go bad for no reason. This was one day we were doing a +19 CoS, arguably one of the easier dungeons to time on high keys but it was my first 19 and my partners first 19. Like his first ever because he only got into doing keys because of me. It's a form of content I really enjoy especially as a healer. We're doing this +19 CoS and for the sixth time our room mate who plays the tank DH, says, I have this silence for the group of imps that all spam cast fireball and will kill you if not interrupted, and he did not have silence therefore I died and so did one of our guildies. This is not putting anything on a guildmate but we released and are running back and I had gone the wrong way and the guildie was just following me. Our roommate lost it on me. Asking me what was wrong with me and how could I do that during a 19 and I mean really screaming at me. I just stopped and said "Why are you speaking to me like that?" and he screams "BECAUSE IT'S A 19" to which my reply was, so? To be fair he did come up to me a few minutes after the dungeon and said sorry for being an asshole, but really he was like that anytime anything went wrong in a raid or dungeon from the release of the expansion. It wasn't only him either it was my partners identical twin brother as well. Just being toxic is the only word I have to explain it.
EDIT: My phone would not let me type out everything I needed to say without getting really bogged down so I'm doing that from my PC now. More information to come. I didn't realize I could just save as a draft.
I saw a lot of red flags other than him just being very unpleasant towards us in the apartment after a key or raid did not go his way. He works three days a week every other day. So for example his schedule will be Monday, Wednesday, Friday leaving him four days for whatever he wants. This time was spent doing absolutely nothing but playing World of Warcraft for 16 hours a day. I joke you not. I wake up at 5AM with my partner to get ready for the work day and our room mate would wake up an hour or two later, get on his pc, and stay there for the rest of the day. He would do this and neglect everything else including school work (I found out he dropped out because he could not keep up with working and going to school, I mostly think he stopped because all he did was play wow.) He would come home from his 8 hour shift, walk into his bedroom, change, sit on his PC and not move until the following early morning. This happened every day including days off for the next few months.
We have made quite a few friends playing games online and not being absolutely terrible at them. A friend of ours that we met two years ago who lives in Arizona just had a really bad break up and wanted to come to Victoria to get away and just have a good time. He was with us for 5 or 6 days and it was a really awesome experience. It made me realize a lot of things about this room mate though. I will admit in my mind I don't really consider him to be my friend anymore after the way he's spoken to me over a video game(I'm not being sensitive here I would describe his level of toxicity to be on par with those that play league of legends or people who just don't leave the basement) and how he leaves spaces once he is done with them. He is also incredibly condescending and always has something negative to say about whatever is going on in his the conversation. For example my partner downloaded a constellation ap on his phone since we're on the fifth floor and we've been watching the stars move around since early winter. Our roommate feels the need to aggressively state that constellations are just made up. It's okay to feel that way but to have that weird level of anger about it and to make anyone who looks at the stars or who recognizes a constellation as an idiot is really off putting. It also had nothing to do really with our interest in watching them move around. It was more of a navigation tool and the lore was interesting to us because every constellation is basically a dude or girl who had it so rough that becoming a constellation was the only resolution.
This friend came from Arizona to visit us during a very tense time in the apartment because my partner and I had just about had enough of the way we were being treated and spoken to over a video game/any disagreement within our topics of conversation.Our friend from Arizona cooked us dinner, cleaned up his mess when he was done, ran the dishwasher and put the dishes away the following morning. He also kept the place where he slept pretty organized and tidy. This friend also has ADHD and is suffering from depression due to things that were going on his life / this huge break up but was pleasant to speak to even if there was a difference of opinion. I don't think I've been around a lot of people who have ADHD and I realize that mental health presents differently in everyone. What I could tell was that this friend would get distracted easily and would have to keep reminding himself what he doing. It seemed almost like a ritual sometimes when he would go in a circle or loop of behaviors. He would go back or start at a certain point and almost re follow his train of thought which was interesting to watch. I'm sorry I'm trying to recount this experience and not be rude in anyway. It's really easy to see how our roommate could struggle with what he struggles with but ... we also see zero effort on his part to get better about those things. I brought up a lot of what goes on around the apartment to the friend who came to visit and expressed that this roommate does also have ADHD where in this person said okay that's valid but you have to put in the work. We then had a conversation about what he struggles with and how he combats it. Which I loved because it gave me so much insight into our roommate.
I'm getting pretty nervous and scared about living with this third person because I don't want to wake up to the apartment having been set on fire by his absent mindedness. I don't want to find out that I'm now very sick because he sucks at cleaning up after himself and I don't eat but the two of them do. I'm scared my partner is going to say something to him about his bathroom and our roommates emotional dysregulation is going to turn a simple request to keep his space clean into something more. I'm scared that we won't be able to have the nice things that we want to have because we pay for everything for this person. I know I stated above and earlier that he only works three days a week but I did not mention that his mom supplements his income by sending him $2,300 a month. $1,000 for rent and $1,300 for fun on top of the job he already works. He talks about how he has so much in savings right now and I think about how my partner has been covering his phone/internet/grocery/and weed bills since September and is running out of savings. I know this is his fault but it 's uncomfortable to ask someone for money multiple times. How many times is he supposed to ask for rent before it gets sent?
Everyone in the apartment smokes weed and of course we will smoke together thus making us smoke a bit more. The way we handle that is just splitting on ounces of weed after we go to the weed store. This guy never sends his half for the weed and smokes a huge portion of it. While playing World of Warcraft for his entire day he would hit the bong after every dungeon and dude was doing 100s of dungeons. He never once paid for an ounce of weed in that time or really since he's been here in September. This was because it's hard to ask him to send money for it over and over. Especially given that we have to speak to him almost daily about cleaning up after himself. THe last time my partner went to buy weed he asked if our roommate could be the one to pay for it. He seemed really offended and said he paid for half of the previous ounce and that they should just buy their own ounces from now one, but did not hesitate to smoke the ounce that my boyfriend had bought in the meantime and did not send/offer to send any money. This happens with things like dinner and grocery as well. He does not go to the store by himself to grab anything he could need he just eats food that my partner and I put into the house. We don't buy anything for him specifically we just buy food we like to eat and offer him some under the condition that he pays for food if he's eating it. He will send 1/3rd sometimes but wind up eating the majority of the food eaten. Given my partner is at work all day and only really snacks and eats a lot on the weekends. I don't eat meat and don't share a lot of similar foods with him so I eat my own things. When we do go to the grocery store together the only thing he grabs are snacks and when we get the total and split the cost three ways (me paying more than I have to since I don't like the snacks they get and really only get a few things- sorry I'm pretty mad about this point) he doesn't even send the money I found out. The last two/three times we went with a $300 grocery bill he has not contributed anything.
I don't really know what to do or what to say so I'm putting it out here on reddit. Please feel free to ask any other questions and I'll do my best to answer them because we need a resolution to this. The apartment doesn't feel like a positive and safe place anymore. It's just filled with frustration and confusion and those things cumulate and anyone would have a hard time functioning in this environment. My mental health needs this to improve because I can't waste my time cleaning and looking for a peaceful place only to have it taken from me not even 6 hours later. Thanks in advance and sorry if things are all over the place. I'm nervous about the post and feel like there is a lot of information and situations that lead us to where we are right now.

Clan Name:
We Be Like Pew Pew
Platform:
Crossplay (Any)
Locale:
East Coast USA
Timing:
Peak hours are from 7pm - 12am ET during the week, later on weekends.
About Us:
Hello there,
Come Pew Pew with us! We are a friendly community of like-minded destiny nerds who love shooting aliens. We are almost entirely made up of working adults with families, our own little lights, other hobbies, etc., and while Destiny is our main jam, we totally understand that sometimes life can get in the way of your gaming. We love to run endgame PVE content such as raids, GMs, dungeons and some of us like to sweat it out in the crucible as well. We also help our fellow members, but most importantly we love to have fun while getting that sweet, sweet loot.
We have many sherpas to help teach you the raiding ropes. Depending on interest, our sherpas schedule multiple open raids in our discord's event channel, with dedicated sherpa runs Friday nights and older raids revisited by community demand. While sherpas will routinely set up runs they lead, any member is free to post any type of event for a time and day that works best for them.
We all play this game as an escape so It's important that we foster a community of friendly players. I make an effort to vet every new member to keep toxicity out of the clan. We will not tolerate racism, bigotry or bullying of any kind. That said, friendly ribbing amongst friends is highly encouraged!
We welcome new but dedicated players as well as folks who have returned from a long hiatus, so no matter what stage you are at in the game we’ve got you covered. We are looking for additional guardians with a positive attitude willing to get involved and looking to engage with the clan, to build up a great community.
Rules: A headset with a mic is a must! Participation in our awesome Discord server is also a must. It's where we communicate, there's news channels, helpful bots, announcements and LFG to make it easy to form groups. Discord participation is mandatory, otherwise you’ll miss out on all the fun and discussion throughout the day!
Other than that, our only rules are to be friendly and respectful to others, to be active and to have fun!
Contact: Send me a PM with your quick elevator pitch. It doesn't have to be too crazy (I've gotten several PowerPoint presentations that I will never forget), just a little about yourself, your experience with Destiny, and your favorite activities. Maybe toss in a unique talent or hobby
Thanks!

I thought I would give everyone an update (and possibly motivation) on my Lexapro journey. You can find a more blow by blow in my log I started here: https://www.reddit.com/lexapro/comments/10nq48j/my_lexapro_journey/
Warning: Long post ahead. Writing this seems therapeutic for me, but I also hope it helps others.
First some background:

• I’m a 54 year old male, with a wife and a 16 year old daughter.
• I’m a white collar professional who leads a large team and experiences high stress at work.
• I don’t have any other health issues at all and consider myself in excellent physical shape.
• My dad’s side of the family has a history of anxiety and depression.
• No previous experience with these kinds of meds at all.

Pre Lexapro:
The wheels started coming off about three years ago. What I thought was solely job stress, started giving me sporadic insomnia. First it was infrequent with a night here or a night there every couple weeks, but things rapidly deteriorated. Fast forward a year later and I was routinely going 2-3 nights in a row without any sleep. I found my mind racing constantly with thoughts of work stress spinning around in my head. Worse, I started worrying about insignificant things that I normally wouldn’t even think about. It would just spiral out of control. It got to the point where I’d get out of bed in the morning and literally say to myself, “I can’t do this anymore.” I was exhausted and at the end of my rope. While I was not suicidal, I wanted to “quit” everything else…my job, being a husband, being a father, being a son, being a friend.
I tried everything. Lunesta, Ambien, Trazedone, Mirtazapene, Weed products, Accupuncture, natural remedies, thereapy, meditation. Nothing worked. Nothing I tried helped me find the “Off Switch” for my brain. My anxiety kept spiraling, this led to depression, and not only was it bringing me down but it was bringing my whole family down. I felt like I was the biggest risk to everyone’s future.
I finally found a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and recommended Lexapro. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve always considered myself a strong individual, mentally and physically, so this wounded me. I’m also not a fan of pills at all. This was a big leap. I did some research on this forum and elsewhere. My Lexapro sat in my drawer for 2 months.
Finally, after a serious bout of anxiety and insomnia after new years, I said screw it. I have nothing to lose.
Post Lexapro Experience:
I started on 5 MG for four weeks and then bumped it up to 10 MG. I felt…”something”...immediately. After two weeks I could tell this was going to be a “glass half full” situation at minimum. More good was taking place vs. bad. After bumping up to 10 MG (where I experienced zero side effects), things only improved from there. The reason I’m writing this now is that I’ve had two consecutive weeks where I’ve had zero insomnia as intrusive thoughts have been kept at bay.
Here’s some other comments on frequently asked questions on this forum:

• Side Effects: One day of nausea.
• Libido: Yup, an issue. Takes a lot of work to “finish.” That said, at 54 years old, that’s a sacrifice I’ll make and hope it improves.
• Mood: Much improved. My mind is a lot clearer as a lot of the “noise” and “anxiety clutter” has been removed. It’s made me more productive at work and more willing to take on other activities where previously, any insignificant addition to my life would break my back. Also more engaged with friends and family.
• Energy: This is the biggest difference for me. I have this strange energy I didn’t have before. I’m more willing to take on the day. It’s almost as if the world went from all grey to a brighter white.
• Anxiety Episodes: I still have them, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m much more capable of coping now. I still will wake up in the middle of the night and have intrusive thoughts, but they come in and out of my head more easily. Sometimes it takes me a while to go back to sleep, but I do.
• Alcohol: No issue for me. I’m a huge craft beer fan and drink it regularly. I’ve also taken Lexapro right before going out for a night and having several drinks. No biggie. That said, I wouldn’t recommend it.
• Increase Dosage: Right now, I’m not considering it. My psychiatrist indicated that for someone like me, the sweet spot is between 10 MG and 15 MG. Maybe I’ll go up to 15 at some point, but who knows.
• Tapering: Not even in the realm of possibilities. I’m continuing indefinitely for now.

At this point, I consider my Lexapro experience a success. I’m not going to declare victory here. I expect there to be ups and downs, but I’m hoping the recent trend continues and I continue to have “higher highs” and “higher lows.”
Hope this helps some.
And lord I hope I just didn't jinx myself (and that's the Pre Lexapro me talking).

Hello all!
It is our once a week post but our Destiny clan is growing fast! Here is the pitch:

1. Have you always wanted to be a space pirate and YAR on communications?
2. Are you welcoming and accepting of all people? (Do you wear your pronouns by choice?)
3. Do you play this game way too much and still struggle to find high quality players (i.e. for raids, trials, etc.)?
4. Maybe you work a job, have commitments that require you to maximize your little gaming time?

If you answered yes to all three, well hot diggity dog this is the clan for you!
We are newly formed destiny clan but most of us are lifelong friends and finally decided to make a final home for us. Yes, we did the 48 hour challenge raid with 2 different teams; and then this past weekend we helped new players go to the lighthouse for their first time.
What are we looking for?

1. Players that are like us. Not just simply "I need the legendary weekly clan bounty because videogame XP".
2. Active in our chat thing (rhymes with uscord but starts with a d).
3. Playing schedule is typically best 8p-12p PST on weekdays, and weekend we have people gaming all day.
4. UK Players schedules make great additions to our Weekend Morning Raid run too! We have a few UK players and they need friends.

If you read it this far, then d*** I <3 you already. We don't do blind invites, so you'll need to play a few games with us. This is the best way for both of us to be sure this is a good fit for both people.
https://www.bungie.net/en/ClanV2?groupid=5011804
​
Looking forward to gaming with you, Pirate!
~Captain Serious McDougal.