Booth rental near me

Can someone please tell ell me if I need therapy, or if it's something else entirely? I take Wellbutrin/buopropin for weight loss but it's having other effects.
I don't mean to make this long-winded but there's a lot of info that might be relevant so I'll try to condense as much as possible.
22F.
In the least pretentious way possible, I always thought I was "highly intelligent" because of being told that by teachers, high IQ, high ACT/SAT with not much studying, academic performance etc etc.. Ik these don't make you "brilliant" but I thought my intelligence was at least above average-but now I feel like I was actually stupid and didn't know, and I feel the wellbutrin is opening up my head "too much" like I can't tell if I'm having too many epiphanies or if it made me "smarter" and what I'm thinking is actually true, and I just didn't realize it when I was little bc I was stupid and somehow the medication is increasing my brain activity or whatever to make me smarter? Or like connecting my neurons faster, idk.
Before going on the medication I would dwell on the past but it gave me a laser focused obsession with it, like it took it up a notch if that makes any sense. But now I like look at previous situations so much more intelligently-before the medication I would wonder why certain problems occurred or why people said certain things to me, but now I suddenly understand other people's feelings and my own behavior (for how stupid it was) perfectly? And it's not just the (OMG I can't believe I did that like funny regret, it's like a dramatic epiphany, like wow was I an moron?)
Am I actually a moron and how would I know if I am? Can people be stupid but have a high IQ? Where does that come from and what does it mean?
My parents think my issue is that I had high ambition professionally or educationally and couldn't reach it so it made me kinda sad.
During college I was pretty sad-I had to go to a school I didn't like for personal reasons and because I didn't study much in high school.
I don't know why I didn't study much in high school either-I can't even remember the place it came from, but I think after making the mistake of taking too many AP classes in 10th grade and getting my first Bs and things like that, I got really depressed and started developing defense mechanisms like (Oh my teachers are just crazy/bad at teaching-and to be fair at least one of them was, she got fired the next year for how she ran her class and other kids would say it) But even if the teachers were bad, other kids from my school did really well and went to top schools/did very well.
Around that time I created these fantasies, like the before bed ones, but I started getting really into them-I'd ask God to give me a second chance and let me "wake up" in a different reality and would daydream about what my life would be like if this or that happened. Eventually I started even operating on the assumption that that would happen. I would tell myself, like, this life is not real, this is just a nightmare that I'm gonna wake up from soon. (yes, I know that sounds insane but if I'm being honest) And I spent a lot of time on Instagram-looking at other people's stuff bc I hated my high school and it made me feel better to see the cool things other people were doing. I wasn't like a stalker, but I looked around on Instagram often as a genuine activity. Maybe that added to my frustration? I went on to escape from my frustration but it just exposed me to more things that made me dislike my situation even more?
The reason why I don't know if I was actually depressed or insane was bc my academic performance was still like above average, like I could survive AP classes, but with mostly 3s or 4s on exams and mostly Bs and no 5s, and then like 98% ish percentile ACT/SAT without really studying (during the course my parents bought for me I just went on my phone, sigh).
I was just so caught up in like my "fantasy alternate lives" and during COVID it went up a ton. I looked into so much stuff, people's Linkedins, etc. etc. I don't know why? Like I can't understand my own psychology behind it.
I'm reluctant to try therapy bc my friends had bad experiences and bc I am in a situation professionally where I can't afford the stigma of being labeled in a documented way, and I'm afraid that they may imply that. But I wish someone could help me understand my own problems and way of thinking. My parents just irritate me at this point and I had to commute to college after COVID so I'm sick and tired of living with them etc. etc. There's nothing wrong with them, it just makes me feel like a child to have to be at home at 22, but I'm moving out in the fall for grad school.
My college was also near my high school, so I drove the same roads and saw the same things everyday that I saw at that time and I think it made me think about the past more than I would have if I had been somewhere else.
But even when I went on trips I would still have high school flashbacks, regrets, fixations, etc. etc. In completely different cities when I was supposed to be on vacation having fun it was stuck in my mind. Sometimes when talking to other people it helped bc I didn't socialize at all in college after covid, but it started getting to a point where I was still depressed even when I was talking to other people.
Now I just don't feel like doing anything. Never su*cidal but just don't care about anything and very little makes me happy. I didn't do awful in college, I graduated w honors in a STEM degree/got into grad school but I worry about how my feelings will effect my success. I feel like I won't be able to do well at a higher level bc of how I feel.
Like I know studying early and spending time studying is important but I just don't do it bc I just don't have motvation or passion for anything. I study like, 2 days before exams and average 75-80s, which in curved classes got me a decent amount ofAs, but mostly A-s and B pluses, (3.6 GPA) I get irritated when I don't do well but I can't bring myself to change my lifestyle or try more. What is wrong with me I'm sorry if I sound insane. I feel like it too.

For context I had my nose pierced late January (stud) and only changed it today to a hoop. It got really stuck on the way in and took me near 5-10 minutes on and off. Eventually I got it in but only after it bled quite a lot (not actually dripping or leaking any blood but the piercing hole was bloody). The site isn't tender like a new piercing but it is sore. It doesn't hurt very much except for when I twist it. Should I be worried? I know I changed it fairly early but my piercings have all healed very quickly so I have a good track record for them (changed lobes after 3 weeks, helix had healed within 3 months, nose in 3 too).

I met this guy years ago and we went out one other time and at the time we were both young. Only went on a first date and can’t remember why I didn’t go on a second. This was years ago. Then we got back in touch over IG — and instantly clicked.
He then asked me to go out on technically a second date, ha! And asked me my preferences. I’m more on the traditional side so I did ask if he didn’t mind picking me up. (I personally love it when a guy picks me up close to my location) I told him my preferences — a brunch place (there’s many near my location and outside of our area not far) and then things got weird..
He said he didn’t know of any inside date ideas and suggested going to an open house? He’s an outdoorsy guy for some context — and I’m 100% open to it but the weather wasn’t going to be ideal and I could tell he didn’t want to drive to a park that I knew of. (Wasn’t crazy far from my location) and anytime I posted a story he loved it and wanted to go there.
Not sure where to go from here but typically I’m attracted to men who like to take the lead and make decisions. I gave him information to work with — should I give this a chance? Is he not that into me?
Open to thoughts!

Me and my partner are planning on hiking to the top of rysy in early August and to avoid the dreaded queues near the summit were going to start our walk at 4am hopefully reaching morskie oko when there is enough sunlight to start the real hike, only problem is I noticed there are tickets you have to buy, is there a gate that is closed for the night? Is there any way to get in before anyone is there to sell or check tickets?
My intention isn't to avoid the fee it's pretty cheap, we just don't want to stand in a queue near the peak so we wanted to start early

When I was in my pre-teens I visited my friends aunt with his family. It was a 2 week summer vacation. The first few nights we would wake up to broken glass near her alcohol cabinet. Everyone in the house (at least 7 of us) just ignored it because it was creepy so it was only mentioned in the morning.
It stopped for about a week and by this time I noticed the aunt was an alcoholic. I rarely seen her without a drink in her hand. I was never exposed to alcoholics before so I assumed they were all sloppy drunks but she wasn't.
So about 1 week and half into the vacation while everyone was sleep and I was watching tv... I looked into the parlor (where the alcohol cabinet was) from the living room and I saw this demonic creature pacing in circles.. it had to be at least 7 foot tall and very wide. It's face came outward like a werewolf. It did not know that I saw it. I was so terrified I choked on air and couldn't breathe. I knew I shouldnt let it know that I seen it. So I closed my eyes and slowly turned away and tried my best to breathe as slowly as possible. I did not move until the morning.
I never told anyone that story until years later and my friend told me he seen it too.

Dad:
Born in the 50s to a government school teacher. Had 6 siblings which is very typical of his generation. Manages to get a B.Tech Chemical Engineering seat in Andhra University with full scholarship. Their family was so poor, they couldn't even buy him shoes to send him off to college. Gets into college. Gets bullied for being poor. Some rich kids fuck up his titration in a lab and nearly get him failed which would have costed him his scholarship.
Dates someone during his M.Tech in AU. Gets married. Drops out of M.Tech. Has an ugly fight with his wife. He beats her. She divorces him and reports him to the police. My dad at that time had a job offer in the gulf in one of those petrol refining plants. Because of his police case his Visa or Passport is cancelled. He loses custody of his child.
Mom:
Born to a CA. Surprisingly had just 1 sister. His dad was dirt poor initially. He starts helping some of the most prominent builders get away without paying taxes. He would literally hold their money in his house when they were about to get audited. If you don't know, being a CA in the 50s or 60s in India is essentially like being a Machine learning scientist with a Ph.D. in 2023. Leaves his kids property worth 15 crores. My mom gets a B.Com from Reddy college in Narayanaguda. Gets married off to an asshole. He beats her a lot. Abuses her. She divorces him. The society back then was ridiculously conservative. She gets bullied a fuck of a lot because of her divorce.
She still finds the courage to go to Maharashtra to do a LL.B. Drops off in the second year and marries my dad because her father is very sick.
The quintessential 90s marriage:
My dad has a lot of unresolved emotional issues. He brought his mom to live with them. He accuses my mom of not taking good care of her. They fight a lot. I was born. My dad loses job several times. My mom sells her jewellery to finance my schooling. In my 10th, her sister passes away. She sells of a land that her dad left her. Takes me to Hyderabad to get me IIT coaching. I experience freedom for the first time in my life. My dad is no longer there to control me. I buy expensive computer parts and phones. I stopped attending school. Somehow managed to get my 10th and 12th diplomas anyways. Get into a shitty college in Vizag for B.Tech. Labor through it. Get a Masters from a prominent college in America. Get some really nice paying jobs.
Now my mom is still living with my dad. I caught him hitting my mom last year when I was in India. I gave him two slaps and pinned him to the ground. Threaten to call the police on him. He starts crying and shit. In the past he forced my mom to give one of the houses my grand father left her for rent. The tenant is refusing to vacate. We have essentially lost that property. My asshole father refuses to help with that situation in any way. He straight up went to the tenant and asked him to buy the house. He is using that as a leverage to fight with us every time we ask him to vacate the house.
My mom gives another land she owns to development. That builder is trying to get her to sell all her shares of apartments for a lot of Black money. I am fighting with her like crazy. She is like my father is a CA I know how to adjust black money :
I am fed up of my life. Fed up of this shitty family politics.

I have gotten curious about what is actually written in the Bible, versus what is written in the Grutrissheit. I am also curious as to why there are so many copies / translations / transcriptions of the bible without there being a complete copy in the archives.
When Myne was an apprentice blue shrine maiden and was allowed access to the Temple book room, she read the Bible. Then she read different copies of the Bible in the Temple book room. She was reading versions so old that Damuel couldn't read them at all, and Ferdinand had to help her with the translation. [P2V3]
Then, she later became the High Bishop and was made the owner of the Temple's primary Bible. A magic tool. At some point later, after new material started appearing to her in that Bible, and she asks Ferdinand for advice:
In [P4V7]

"So this is the bible only the High Bishop can read, hm? What makes it different from other bibles?" Justus asked. He was eagerly flipping through the pages, but his response proved that he couldn't see the magic circle or the text in the air.
"It is a more complete version - or, at the very least, it has more details than any of the transcriptions in the temple's book room," I replied. There were several transcriptions of the bible in the temple's book room, but their page counts varied quite dramatically.

Most of the older stuff in the temple book room would have come from old Eisenreich, since Ehrenfest is only a couple of hundred years old. I imagine all of the original Eisenreich temple's divine instruments and Bible and documents got moved to the new Ehrenfest temple when the foundation was moved. I would have thought that Rozemyne, upon becoming the owner of the Bible when she was made High Bishop and finding she could read all the way to the end of the book, would have started a new and more complete transcription right away. At the time, not knowing that no one else can read as much of it as she can, she would have also wondered why no one had fully transcribed it before.
In [P4V1] Rozemyne hears about the Grutrissheit for the first time from Rosina.

She went on the explain that the Grutrissheit was the original bible, owned by Mestionora herself. The first king of the country had been chosen by the gods and permitted to transcribe a copy.

Then, in [P4V7] while she is talking to Ferdinand about the new magic circle and text that started showing up in her Bible:

As the bible described, the position of Zent was given to those who transcribed the original Grutrissheit. Ferdinand explained that over the long years hence, this had morphed into the current Zent passing his transcribed version down to the next. The passed-down Grutrissheit itself had become the symbol of the Zent.
This transcription had been lost during the civil war following the previous king's death. Now, the current king needed to transcribe a new one from the original Grutrissheit... but its location remained unknown.

Then, Ferdinand tells Rozemyne that even if she meets every other qualification, she will still never see the original Grutrissheit.

"You certainly have all of the qualities necessary to become king. However, there is one crucial condition that you have not fulfilled."
"And what condition is that?" I asked, looking at the bible curiously.
"It is simple," Ferdinand said. "You were born a commoner and thus do not have royal blood. For that reason, you cannot become king."
"Royal blood...? The bible doesn't say anything about needing that."
Ferdinand tapped a finger against his temple in contemplation and then let out a sigh. "In the same way that only certain people can enter this hidden room, the Grutrissheit is within an archive that only royalty can enter - or so an ancient text maintains. In other words, you will not be able to enter that archive, nor will you be able to transcribe the book. No matter how many kingly qualities you may have, you cannot become king."

After Rozemyne cries about having her hopes dashed that Prince Hildebrand wouldn't be able to let her into the Forbidden Archive to at least read the book ..

"Besides, the Grutrissheit in the archive is the first king's transcription, so we can assume it is nearly identical to this bible we have with us.

So, all of this has left me feeling a bit confused. By my count, there are 3 versions of the Grutrissheit. Four, if you count the Bibles.

1. The Book of Mestionora. The one held by the goddess herself. THE Original Grutrissheit. She does not lend it out. The first Zent was allowed to make a copy.
2. The First Zent's Grutrissheit. The only direct transcription from the Book of Mestionora. The first worldly version of the book. Yurgenschmidt's Original Grutrissheit, the one used to create the country. Claimed to be in the Forbidden Archive, only accessible to those with royal blood. Perhaps anyone with access to the Forbidden Archive could make a copy.
3. The Grutrissheit. I guess the "normal" one. The one that all Zents after the first one had to transcribe from his. Like the one that was lost during the recent civil war. Was this the only one around though? It sounds like there can be more than one copy. If anyone qualified to enter the forbidden archive can make a copy, then it's possible.

It appears that the Book of Mestionora has only ever been seen by one person, the First Zent. Most mentions of the "original" Grutrissheit refer to the one owned by the First Zent. Also, it isn't clear if the qualifications to enter the Forbidden Archive to get a copy of the Grutrissheit are needed to simply pass along an existing copy. I would think that not being qualified to get a Grutrissheit would disqualify you from being able to use one either. Would Trauerqual or Sigiswald even be able to use one someone else gave them?
So, if Rozemyne meets all the other qualifications, but still can't enter the Forbidden Archive due to not having royal blood, then everyone's plans are screwed. If that happens the rampage will be, ironically, biblical. I could see Rozemyne at that point demanding to speak to the manager.
Rozemyne: "Get Mestionora down here NOW! I pay my prayer taxes! I demand to make my own copy directly from her! I will boycott! You will never see another drop of mana from me, or my retainers, I swear!"
Question: Would Rozemyne rather read the 1st edition print of the Grutrissheit in the Forbidden Archive, or would she rather make her own custom print from the Book of Mestionora herself?
Answer: Both. Obviously. She would want to compare and even smell the differences.
But, now I wonder about the difference between the "hidden" archive that requires the 3 keys to open, and the "forbidden" archive that only Royals can enter. It was said that only Royals and select archduke family members could enter the Hidden Archive. Those that didn't meet the criteria were told "Not qualified" by the shumils. Perhaps after you fulfill all of the other hidden qualifications that make the shumil say things like "Not enough elements" and "Not enough prayer" they would lead you to the Forbidden Archive? Ferdinand also explained that "Royal blood" was spread around the duchy in a way, while describing his thoughts on the nature of the Temple Bibles.
[P4V7]

"Furthermore, the archdukes in the distant past were married to those of royal blood," Ferdinand continued. "In other words, one could say that more or less all children of archdukes have royal blood to some extent. Perhaps the first king distributed these bibles to each duchy such that the strongest of all those with his blood would be chosen to be king."

Based on how this describes archduke families having royal blood, and that those with enough of it can enter the Hidden Archive, I get a feeling that there is not a higher level of royal blood needed to enter the Forbidden Archive than is needed to enter the Hidden one. If that's the case, then Rozemyne already does have royal blood.
If Rozemyne can enter the Hidden Archive, then she already meets the "select archduke candidate" criteria, even though she was born a commoner. It makes me think that "royal blood" might not mean genetic inheritance.
If it's possible to obtain "royal blood', i.e. become recognized as royal by magic, without actual blood relations, I can only think of two ways.

1. Divine intervention. Whether from Divine Protections or some other way, I bet the gods could declare someone fit to rule and they would be recognized as royal by magic means.
2. Mana interaction. Blood is heavily associated with a person's mana as well. The highest concentration of a person's mana is in their blood. Mana-mixing among family and lovers could theoretically change someone's mana to introduce "royal blood" to their system.

In the second scenario, Rozemyne could have only gotten her royal blood from Ferdinand, who admitted in the past that he has a fair amount of it. They haven't mixed mana as lovers of course, but their long association in the temple, performing rituals where their mana flows together, may have been enough. He also synchronized his mana with hers when he read her memories.
I really don't know what to expect anymore. Will Rozemyne be blocked from entering the Forbidden Archive? Will she summon a goddess? Even if she gets the Grutrissheit, will she be able to simply hand it off to someone not qualified to get it themselves? Someone send Ferdinand some Tylenol.

23M. Basically I grew up dirt poor. I attended a Cal State near me and achieved both a BS and MBA. I graduated with 0 debt. Right now, I am a biz ops manager managing 4 offices making close to 6 figures. It is a stressful, but well-paying job.
I have high ambitions. My dream is to start a successful business, not sure what industry and I'm still learning and trying to figure it out. The only reason I even went to college was to have a safety net in case my ventures fail, which will happen since entrepreneurship consists of trial & error. If I fail, at least I can land back on a comfy corporate 9-5 job instead of slaving in retail for pennies. I have already made a commitment not to have a wife and kids until I accomplish my dream (not like women are knocking at my door anyway). I'm doing this because having a family will conflict with my ability to take risks and will tie me down to one geographical location.
Lately I have been doing research on millionaires and billionaires. I tend to find a good amount of them, not all, tend to have some fancy ivy league education. There are all kinds of schools represented and a few of them did not go to school at all. There are a few at my school who went on to start large F500 companies (2 to 3) and a few others that have gone on to be major execs. There seems to be a bit of an elitist glass ceiling and these opportunities are typically presented to the already wealthy. Can someone like me with a poor background and no fancy degree break into this "class"? I don't want a billion dollars, but I am not going to lie, I am aiming for 10 million. Or the amount that I can f off to South America and never be seen again. It sounds ambitious but I am willing to do whatever it takes to get there. Any advice or thoughts would be appreciated.

I've had sex for four days straight and I'm still horny. Are there any kind femboy twink bottoms that wanna help a fellow man out?
I'm 5'8" and 100~ kg (which makes me pretty chubby). I live near San Beda and CEU, and will travel almost any distance if it meant eating out some boypussy. I'd prefer if you were around the same age as me but I'm open to anything!

This challenge is ridiculous, I’m glad it was easy for everyone else, but it’s not for me. I got everyone’s speed up and I’ve even watched YouTube videos on it. Still no where near completion.

https://imgur.com/a/J2ZevPD
I moved into my apartments in the middle of last year. This bike was sitting in the exact spot it's sitting now, completely immobile. In November, someone put a tow sticker on it. But despite the tow date coming and going, nobody took the bike.
Since then, I've been curious about it. Usually I'm wary about approaching other people's bikes, but it's obviously been abandoned. So, I took a look, and here's what I found.
1: The bike has been stationary for so long that the kickstand left a hole in the pavement.
2: The bike was apparently last registered in 1994.
3: The right indicator light is gone. The rear indicator lights are hanging off by their wiring.
4: The chain is just gone. It has rusted to the point of total immobility.
5: The bike clearly took a bad fall on it's right side. The fairing near the front right side is cracked
6: Most likely during the fall, the crank shaft must have either cracked or broke otherwise, judging from the duct tape attached to it.
7: Just about every metal surface of the bike not painted has begun to rust.
8: The bike's registration appears to be in a state bordering mine, from 1994. This is odd, because when I looked up the vin, the result returned for a 1997 Triumph, not a 1994 Triumph. So were the plates changed, or is the bike older than the DoT thinks?
9: The bike has 106,783.5 miles on the clock. The last trip was 4,538 miles.
If I has to guess what happened, I'd say a long time ago, someone dropped the bike bad. It wouldn't start after the fall, because of the crank shaft if I had to guess, and was probably towed back to this spot where the owner then lived. After this, the owner probably looked at the odometer, looked at the bike, imagined the cost of getting it repaired, and wrote it off as a loss. Instead of paying to get it towed somewhere and sold/scrapped, they simply left it here to rot. Moving out, expecting nobody to follow up. So far, they appear to have been right, and nobody has.
The only mystery to me are the markings on the right mirror. They seem to be something you'd see in a scrap yard, but the bike is in an apartment complex parking lot instead. Perhaps the bike was brought to the scrap yard, and the owner took it back here. If so, why would they do that, only to abandon it here?
The bike now sits abandoned, clearly unable to start, keys lost to time. I can only imagine the issues that plague her now, mechanical and electrical. I can't imagine she'd be worth a whole lot even if she ran just fine, given her mileage and lineage. I feel bad for her, maybe because I have a soft spot for Triumphs, or maybe because it's simply a tragedy for such an oldie like this to be growing cobwebs instead of memories.
Sometimes I wonder about filing paperwork and trying to claim the bike, as clearly the owner doesn't want her, but the imagined cost of towing, repairing, and maintaining a bike that hasn't physically moved in decades sends shivers down my spine.
TL;DR Hey look at this bum ass bike someone left in my lot thirty years ago lmao

So there is a girl i Went out with the other day. We had drinks and saw a comedy show for an hour. We made a lot of pleasant and fun small talk. She took my hand with her hand and placed it on her right thigh for nearly an hour. .... She then said right away, 'we should go to a hookah bar since you like it next time.' ... We then had some food and had a good time. At the end she said she had fun and said 'you have my number' and hugged me.... Next time il get a kiss i didnt try. But the next day i said i texted her i said somethig liek 'hey! i have fun yesterday. i feel we had good chemistry, i like you. wondering if you were free tomorrow for a music show or wanted to go to a hookah bar like you said.'
she said 'hey! i also had fun yesterday. i have plans this weekend but another time!'
Does she like me..? Cuz I like her a lot and want her to be my gf.

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- The Immortal Legends: The Van Helsing ---- Previous
Jake‘s POV
I was sitting on the wall surrounding the Wyvern’s Base, looking out into the surrounding area. My eyes were on the sky, and I saw several Neame flying high up in a grid pattern, each doing their patrols. While we, the familiars on the wall, watched the sky, they watched the grounds for miles around. You’re probably wondering why they don’t watch the sky, since they’re already up there, but it’s harder to do than you think. Besides, they can see more of the ground from up there than we can from down here. From where I was sitting, yes sitting, not standing, the Neame looked like little dots. To be honest, I don’t think our real job is to watch the skies. I’m pretty sure it’s to act as a last line of defense against ground attacks, but I don’t know why they would bother lying about that.
One of the other familiars, a big hairy thing called a skeker, but not named, came over and sat beside me. He looked like a mountain goat crossed with a bulldog, and he was just as friendly. I put a hand on his back and started petting him, and he started to purr; which surprised me the first time it happened. I asked his owner if I could name it, but she felt uncomfortable with that, and refused.
That’s been a trend lately; Neame feeling uncomfortable around me. For the past four months, ever since the attack by the court mages near the capital and the team Suma traveled with died, I have noticed a lot of the Neame have been treating me differently. They’ve been treating Suma differently too, but she lies and says it doesn’t bother her.
“See anything, Jake?” Suma asked over our private connection. The connection was something only she and I could hear, and allowed us to talk without speaking aloud.
“Everything still looks clear. What about you?” I asked back, still petting the skeker.
“I see something to the east. About fifteen seconds.” She said. That’s one of the ways the Neame denote distance, by how long it would take them to fly from one point to another. If the distance is short enough, they’ll use wingspans instead. Every second is about twenty or thirty meters. “It is small and trying to hide. Can you see it?”
I looked up at the sun, and quickly found east, then looked about where I thought she was talking about. “No, I don’t see anything. Should I go take a look?”
“No, I will alert the others.” She said, and ended the connection. I watched as two of the four dots dived down in the distance, before hovering above a patch of trees, but I couldn’t tell who they were. They stayed there for a few minutes, before flying back up. “False alarm, it was just a wild animal.” Suma said, and I sighed. Leaning against the skeker, my eyes started to get heavy.
Before I knew it, I was hearing Suma’s voice again, but it wasn’t in my head this time. “Jake?” She said. I opened my eyes, and saw her, as well as three others, perched on the wall’s railings nearby.
“Uh… yes?” I asked.
“Were you asleep?” Nine, one of the Neame with Suma, and a member of our squad, asked.
“No, I was…. resting my eyes.”
“For how long?” Odens, another member of our squad, wondered.
I looked up at the sun, which had moved about three inches in the sky, then back at them. “Not long.”
“If I do not get to sleep during a patrol, neither do you.” Rou, another member of our squad, joked.
“When you did not answer, I decided to come check on you.” Suma said.
“Sorry.” I stood up, accidentally waking the skeker too. “Well, at least I’m not the only sleepy-head.” Giving the skeker a pat on the head, I sent it back to its post. It was surprisingly smart, despite its goofy look.
“We need to get back to patrol.” Odens said, and glanced over to Suma. “We’ll give you a moment.” With that, the three of them flew off, leaving Suma and I alone on the wall.
“Are you still not sleeping well?” She asked. I shook my head. “It is more nightmares?”
I took a deep breath, “it’s always the same one.”
“Jake, you know if you ever want to talk about them, I will listen.”
“Thanks, I know. Would you mind summoning me real quick, so I can wake up?” I asked, and she agreed. She quickly performed a summoning spell, causing me to fade away for a moment, then reappear beside her. With that, the magic of the summoning restored my energy, waking me up.
“Jake… I have summoned you at least twice a day, for several days now. When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t need to sleep if you keep summoning me.” I pointed out.
Suma sighed, “please try to sleep tonight. Going this long without it cannot be healthy.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“…Jake.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Thank you. I need to get back to patrol. Will you be okay?” The glittering sparkle that normally surrounds her, and every other Neame, was dulled.
“I’m awake now; go ahead.” I said. She flew away, towards the squad’s direction. Just in time too, because as soon as she was gone, I sat back down, already tired again, and with horrible cramps in my legs.
I fought through the pain, and the exhaustion, until our squad’s patrol was over. Suma flew to my room on base, then summoned me. I thanked her, and she left. Summoning my backpack, I pulled out some food my mum had put in for me, and had dinner while reading over her latest letter.
It started the way all of our letters do, with some details about our day, then any requests we may have for the other, but I’m usually the only one who has any, then that’s followed up with anything we feel the other needs to know. Apparently, in the four months I’ve been gone, the local police have put out an official arrest warrant for me, because I missed a court date for former Detective Lin’s stalking charge. That led to the charges against her being dropped, and the HMRC case against me getting reopened.
After writing a quick response to my mum’s letter, and pulling my phone out of my backpack, I sent my bag away with my letter in tow. This is how we have been communicating for the last several months. It’s slow, but it works. I told her to be careful with the bag, because she can’t touch it when I’m summoning it, or she might get pulled her too. She knows about what happened with Zachariah, and that it’s too dangerous for either of us to travel to the other right now.
Clicking my phone on, I turned on some music, and laid on my bed. I fought it, but eventually I did fall asleep. Just like every time before, I had that same nightmare.
It always starts off the same, I’m floating in an endless void, and forced to watch from a distance as my mum cries alone in her bed, slowly getting older and older, until she turns to dust. Then it usually moves on to Suma, who’s getting burned by purple flames; my flames. But it isn’t me who’s doing it, it’s the figure in flames, Deyja, the Chaos Dragon. And then, just like every time before, I jolt awake, sweating cold bullets, with my heart pounding so hard in my chest it hurts.
My phone’s still playing music, its charge says sixty percent battery remaining. Only two hours have passed since I fell asleep. That’s enough, right? Yeah, for tonight… I thought.

Can someone tell me if I need therapy, or if it's something else entirely? I take Wellbutrin/buopropin for weight loss but it's having other effects.
I don't mean to make this long-winded but there's a lot of info that might be relevant so I'll try to condense as much as possible.
22F.
In the least pretentious way possible, I always thought I was "highly intelligent" because of being told that by teachers, high IQ, high ACT/SAT with not much studying, academic performance etc etc.. Ik these don't make you "brilliant" but I thought my intelligence was at least above average-but now I feel like I was actually stupid and didn't know, and I feel the wellbutrin is opening up my head "too much" like I can't tell if I'm having too many epiphanies or if it made me "smarter" and what I'm thinking is actually true, and I just didn't realize it when I was little bc I was stupid and somehow the medication is increasing my brain activity or whatever to make me smarter? Or like connection my neurons faster, idk.
My parents think my issue is that I had high ambition professionally or educationally and couldn't reach it so it made me kinda sad.
During college I was pretty sad-I had to go to a school I didn't like for personal reasons and because I didn't study much in high school.
I don't know why I didn't study much in high school either-I can't remember the place it came from, but I think after making the mistake of taking too many AP classes in 10th grade and getting my first Bs and things like that, I got really depressed and started developing defense mechanisms like (Oh my teachers are just crazy/bad at teaching-and to be fair at least one of them was, she got fired the next year for how she ran her class and other kids would say it) But even if the teachers were bad, other kids from my school did really well and went to top schools/did very well.
Around that time I created these fantasies, like the before bed ones, but I started getting really into them-I'd ask God to give me a second chance and let me "wake up" in a different reality and would daydream about what my life would be like if this or that happened. Eventually I started even operating on the assumption that that would happen. I would tell myself, like, this life is not real, this is just a nightmare that I'm gonna wake up from soon. (yes, I know that sounds insane but if I'm being honest) And I spent a lot of time on Instagram-looking at other people's stuff bc I hated my high school and it made me feel better to see the cool things other people were doing. I wasn't like a stalker, but I looked around on Instagram often as a genuine activity. Maybe that added to my frustration? I went on to escape from my frustration but it just exposed me to more things that made me dislike my situation even more?
The reason why I don't know if I was actually depressed or insane was bc my academic performance was still like above average, like I could survive AP classes, but with mostly 3s or 4s on exams and mostly Bs and no 5s, and then like 98% ish percentile ACT/SAT without really studying (during the course my parents bought for me I just went on my phone, sigh).
I was just so caught up in like my "fantasy alternate lives" and during COVID it went up a ton. I looked into so much stuff, people's Linkedins, etc. etc. I don't know why? Like I can't understand my own psychology behind it.
I'm reluctant to try therapy bc my friends had bad experiences and bc I am in a situation professionally where I can't afford the stigma of being labeled in a documented way, and I'm afraid that they may imply that. But I wish someone could help me understand my own problems and way of thinking. My parents just irritate me at this point and I had to commute to college after COVID so I'm sick and tired of living with them etc. etc. There's nothing wrong with them, it just makes me feel like a child to have to be at home at 22, but I'm moving out in the fall for grad school.
My college was also near my high school, so I drove the same roads and saw the same things everyday that I saw at that time and I think it made me think about the past more than I would have if I had been somewhere else.
But even when I went on trips I would still have high school flashbacks, regrets, fixations, etc. etc. In completely different cities when I was supposed to be on vacation having fun it was stuck in my mind. Sometimes when talking to other people it helped bc I didn't socialize at all in college after covid, but it started getting to a point where I was still depressed even when I was talking to other people.
Now I just don't feel like doing anything. Never su*cidal but just don't care about anything and very little makes me happy. I didn't do awful in college, I graduated w honors in a STEM degree/got into grad school but I worry about how my feelings will effect my success. I feel like I won't be able to do well at a higher level bc of how I feel.
Like I know studying early and spending time studying is important but I just don't do it bc I just don't have motvation or passion for anything. I study like, 2 days before exams and average 75-80s, which in curved classes got me a decent amount ofAs, but mostly A-s and B pluses, (3.6 GPA) I get irritated when I don't do well but I can't bring myself to change my lifestyle or try more. What is wrong with me I'm sorry if I sound insane. I feel like it too.

I crashed my dads car that he loved, it’s 2.0 litre Mazda 3, an older car, but still very quick with an 8s 0-60 which is nothing compared to my old polo which does 0-60 in 8 working days. I was driving like a tit and took a bend too fast after overtaking on a backroad and then I over corrected when nearly colliding with a car coming the opposite way and plowed into ditch hitting a farmers fence and a telegraph pole. The car is a write off. It isn’t and won’t be road worthy ever again and my mum and dad now have to buy a new car which can get them to and from work. They could use my old car but the only reason I’m driving the Mazda is because my car is broken. I’ve caused so much hassle and it will be thousands of pounds in damages to fix everything but that’s what I deserve and I want to pay for everything myself. I’m going to give my savings money from my grandad and the few thousand I’ve saved up to my parents, all of it. I don’t deserve to have it and they need to buy a new car anyway so it’s the bare minimum I should do. I feel like a failure of a son as this isn’t the first mistake I’ve made in a car, I’ve had 10 incidents total in my whole driving life of 3 years, but have never had one this bad. I could of killed someone and it’s hit me really hard how stupid I was. I get in cars feeling like I have something to prove by driving fast, the male ego is a bastard. My brother and dad are both really competent drivers and they impress me with their quick reaction times and their abilities to control cars, and I feel like I need to almost live up to them. It’s pathetic but I just need to accept I’m not as good as them and won’t be. They have more experience and they’re a lot more sensible than I am. My family hates me right now, as they should and I’m just patiently waiting on my money being transferred so I can give them it. I feel useless, like I don’t deserve to live, like I shouldn’t be here, like I should never drive again so I can never endanger or damage anyone or anything ever again. I just feel like a financial burden. My mum and dad are relieved I’m still here but I just keep thinking it would be easier if I wasn’t, they’d never need to spend money or do things for me ever again. I just take them for granted and I didn’t show any respect for their property. I’m a horrible son. Sorry I know this is deep but I just needed to get it out there. You can say what you think about me, I don’t mind, and if it’s negative I guess I deserve it.

Ok, very long backstory but I'll keep it to the basics. I (37yo US male) am ending a 13 yr marriage w/ a 35yo German female (raise in the US since she was 5yo). It's mutual and we're both already feeling better than when we were together. We have one 7yo daughter. Marriage has always been rocky but we've managed through counseling, determination, and chemistry (when it was good it was good). Now we both see it was always toxic. We moved to Germany from the US 11 months ago, after deciding to pursue a European lifestyle and enrolling our daughter in a Waldorf Kindergarten (very cheap here). 7 months in and we've decided marriage is definitely over. I've moved out and been living in a separate apartment. We share 50/50 custody of daughter. Overall good transition, lots of pain but it's working and I'm healing.
So the issue is, I feel we should move back to the US. ALL of our family lives there in a 3 hour radius of North Carolina. Our daughter was born and raised seeing her grandparents weekly until 11months ago. Our daughter has only one cousin who she adores and talks about all the time who lives in NC. We own a home there. I am the primary earner and could be earning over 100K per year by next year ( I was up until we moved). I have no job in Germany yet since my career field required a high level of German and I would need to spend years learning while working low wage jobs. Our daughter does not like Waldorf style and wants more STEM education. My ex works for 15 Euros/ hour and has no prospects of earning more than 20/hr within the next 3-5 years. I desperately want to get back to my career (my passion) but I believe my German ex wants to stay here despite numerous reasons to go back. She began sleeping with/dating someone on Tinder 45 days after we decided to end our relationship- 18 days after I moved out. She told me this, btw. They are still dating. I believe she is moving quickly to establish her new life here w/o me. Which she has every right, but still, It's concerning.
Nevertheless, I am starting to think I need to move back, w/ or w/o them. This is not my country, my language, and I do not picture myself here, especially with all the healing I need to do after divorce. Family, career, healing are the things I need now or else I feel I will lose myself in this German town, my ex's mother's hometown, (voted ugliest town in Germany) while watching my wife flourish in her native country (again, she grew up in the US). I have a history of depression. I don't want to meet another international partner. My daughter talks about her old school, her grandparents, her old best friends, wanting "English things" ---ALL THE TIME. I will likely live very near my extended family and daughter would be able to see them all the time if we went back. Even my ex's parents (retired and live on lakes/beaches) want to see us back in the US ( I still care about them very much). My daughter would have a blast visiting them. But my wife won't see it. She believes the lifestyle in Germany is better, safer, less traumatic, less violent, less capitalistic (I agree, somewhat) and that that is more important than money, family, stability (completely disagree).
So... If I move back, Is it manipulative to tell my daughter that "I wish I could stay but I have to go work in the USA to make money to support her and her mother. AND that I wish she could come but her mother wants her to stay and go to school here in Germany"....? I don't want to lie and say I wish I could stay or that I also think she should stay. And I don't want to be too vague like "It's hard but it's what's best for everyone" even though that sounds the most neutral. What does a 7yo need to hear in such a complex situation? Should she even know if I end up moving to the same town as her friends/cousin? It all just seems to have the potential to be so traumatic for her. Everything she ever knew changed one year ago with our move, then 8 months later we tell her we are divorcing, now I will probably tell her I have to move back. What the hell do I do? Struggling with the idea of ending up becoming a deadbeat dad who leaves, despite NEVER seeing that coming.

Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
--
Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on a prompt by eithrotaur

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- The Immortal Legends: The Van Helsing ---- Previous
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Jake‘s POV
I was sitting on the wall surrounding the Wyvern’s Base, looking out into the surrounding area. My eyes were on the sky, and I saw several Neame flying high up in a grid pattern, each doing their patrols. While we, the familiars on the wall, watched the sky, they watched the grounds for miles around. You’re probably wondering why they don’t watch the sky, since they’re already up there, but it’s harder to do than you think. Besides, they can see more of the ground from up there than we can from down here. From where I was sitting, yes sitting, not standing, the Neame looked like little dots. To be honest, I don’t think our real job is to watch the skies. I’m pretty sure it’s to act as a last line of defense against ground attacks, but I don’t know why they would bother lying about that.
One of the other familiars, a big hairy thing called a skeker, but not named, came over and sat beside me. He looked like a mountain goat crossed with a bulldog, and he was just as friendly. I put a hand on his back and started petting him, and he started to purr; which surprised me the first time it happened. I asked his owner if I could name it, but she felt uncomfortable with that, and refused.
That’s been a trend lately; Neame feeling uncomfortable around me. For the past four months, ever since the attack by the court mages near the capital and the team Suma traveled with died, I have noticed a lot of the Neame have been treating me differently. They’ve been treating Suma differently too, but she lies and says it doesn’t bother her.
“See anything, Jake?” Suma asked over our private connection. The connection was something only she and I could hear, and allowed us to talk without speaking aloud.
“Everything still looks clear. What about you?” I asked back, still petting the skeker.
“I see something to the east. About fifteen seconds.” She said. That’s one of the ways the Neame denote distance, by how long it would take them to fly from one point to another. If the distance is short enough, they’ll use wingspans instead. Every second is about twenty or thirty meters. “It is small and trying to hide. Can you see it?”
I looked up at the sun, and quickly found east, then looked about where I thought she was talking about. “No, I don’t see anything. Should I go take a look?”
“No, I will alert the others.” She said, and ended the connection. I watched as two of the four dots dived down in the distance, before hovering above a patch of trees, but I couldn’t tell who they were. They stayed there for a few minutes, before flying back up. “False alarm, it was just a wild animal.” Suma said, and I sighed. Leaning against the skeker, my eyes started to get heavy.
Before I knew it, I was hearing Suma’s voice again, but it wasn’t in my head this time. “Jake?” She said. I opened my eyes, and saw her, as well as three others, perched on the wall’s railings nearby.
“Uh… yes?” I asked.
“Were you asleep?” Nine, one of the Neame with Suma, and a member of our squad, asked.
“No, I was…. resting my eyes.”
“For how long?” Odens, another member of our squad, wondered.
I looked up at the sun, which had moved about three inches in the sky, then back at them. “Not long.”
“If I do not get to sleep during a patrol, neither do you.” Rou, another member of our squad, joked.
“When you did not answer, I decided to come check on you.” Suma said.
“Sorry.” I stood up, accidentally waking the skeker too. “Well, at least I’m not the only sleepy-head.” Giving the skeker a pat on the head, I sent it back to its post. It was surprisingly smart, despite its goofy look.
“We need to get back to patrol.” Odens said, and glanced over to Suma. “We’ll give you a moment.” With that, the three of them flew off, leaving Suma and I alone on the wall.
“Are you still not sleeping well?” She asked. I shook my head. “It is more nightmares?”
I took a deep breath, “it’s always the same one.”
“Jake, you know if you ever want to talk about them, I will listen.”
“Thanks, I know. Would you mind summoning me real quick, so I can wake up?” I asked, and she agreed. She quickly performed a summoning spell, causing me to fade away for a moment, then reappear beside her. With that, the magic of the summoning restored my energy, waking me up.
“Jake… I have summoned you at least twice a day, for several days now. When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t need to sleep if you keep summoning me.” I pointed out.
Suma sighed, “please try to sleep tonight. Going this long without it cannot be healthy.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“…Jake.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Thank you. I need to get back to patrol. Will you be okay?” The glittering sparkle that normally surrounds her, and every other Neame, was dulled.
“I’m awake now; go ahead.” I said. She flew away, towards the squad’s direction. Just in time too, because as soon as she was gone, I sat back down, already tired again, and with horrible cramps in my legs.
I fought through the pain, and the exhaustion, until our squad’s patrol was over. Suma flew to my room on base, then summoned me. I thanked her, and she left. Summoning my backpack, I pulled out some food my mum had put in for me, and had dinner while reading over her latest letter.
It started the way all of our letters do, with some details about our day, then any requests we may have for the other, but I’m usually the only one who has any, then that’s followed up with anything we feel the other needs to know. Apparently, in the four months I’ve been gone, the local police have put out an official arrest warrant for me, because I missed a court date for former Detective Lin’s stalking charge. That led to the charges against her being dropped, and the HMRC case against me getting reopened.
After writing a quick response to my mum’s letter, and pulling my phone out of my backpack, I sent my bag away with my letter in tow. This is how we have been communicating for the last several months. It’s slow, but it works. I told her to be careful with the bag, because she can’t touch it when I’m summoning it, or she might get pulled her too. She knows about what happened with Zachariah, and that it’s too dangerous for either of us to travel to the other right now.
Clicking my phone on, I turned on some music, and laid on my bed. I fought it, but eventually I did fall asleep. Just like every time before, I had that same nightmare.
It always starts off the same, I’m floating in an endless void, and forced to watch from a distance as my mum cries alone in her bed, slowly getting older and older, until she turns to dust. Then it usually moves on to Suma, who’s getting burned by purple flames; my flames. But it isn’t me who’s doing it, it’s the figure in flames, Deyja, the Chaos Dragon. And then, just like every time before, I jolt awake, sweating cold bullets, with my heart pounding so hard in my chest it hurts.
My phone’s still playing music, its charge says sixty percent battery remaining. Only two hours have passed since I fell asleep. That’s enough, right? Yeah, for tonight… I thought.

What are people's opinions on the idea that certain permanent landmarks have a countdown to them where they just blow themselves up. Currently on the list for me is Scargrounds, Gray Apothecary, and Windswept Hillock that come to mind. The reason for these three is they generate so much value that over the course of a game they can absolutely sweep, so if you don't have landmark removal (of which there is very little and usually not enough space to include them) you're just kinda screwed.
Now before anyone thinks i'm biased, my favorite champion is LeBlanc. I love Gray Apothecary, but i recognizze it's not really fun to play against.
I don't think every permanent landmark needs degrade. The win-con types like bandle tree and star spring obviously shouldn't. That's their entire gameplan. Furthermore ones like grand plaza that just give challenger for a round, still relies on you putting in the work of summoning a unit to make it work, and challenger, while scary in the right hands, has never been near as game breaking as other keywords. Meanwhile, scarground basically making an army of tough units that get benefits from getting hit, gray apothecary making every 5 cost trade advantageous (fear my viego/leblanc deck), and windswept hillock just passively generating stuns endlessly (i mean targon even comes with stun landmarks that degrade for that very reason), makes a permanent problem.
I don't know what the countdown numbers should be. That would be up for testing, but i feel like that would make the decks that utilize these, feel a little less aggravating to play against, and it has the side boost of not bricking hands as much when you do get all your copies of scargrounds or whatever.