Fancy big writing names

I would like to start off by saying yes, I am aware I am an idiot a lot of the time, but this has to be one of the stupidest things I've done. Recently, Childish Gambino released his new album, and with it, he released his upcoming world tour. Me (17M) and my (17F) girlfriend love Childish Gambino, so we were both super excited about this upcoming news. However, reality set in that we both don't really have the money for it, so we were a bit disappointed, or at least I pretended to be. Little did she know I have a secret money stash, specifically made for moments like these when one of my favorite artists may make a surprise visit to my city. So I signed up for the presale and listened to his music to improve my chances, and the night before the presale went live, I was able to get the link. This was great. I had roughly 300 dollars that I could use to get both of us some seats. The problem was that the presale went live during one of my classes. My school is pretty strict when it comes to phone use, so I was risking getting into some big shit at the school if I got caught, especially because I am very active in the school and am well known by staff on a first name basis.
To get around getting in trouble in school, I told my mom that it was saved on her computer with the link and password to the website so she would be able to get in and buy them for me in case I couldn't during class. GREAT, all set and done, ready to rock and roll. BTW, Childish Gambino I love you, but respectfully, WHY MAKE PRESALE ON A RANDOM WENSDAY AT 12 PM? Anyways, I got to school and did my normal school day stuff. When 11:55 rolled around, I went to the website on my computer and logged in. In the moment, I realized I could email my mom instead of texting her. So I used that to ask if she also got in and give me a heads-up about how much the tickets were. She was slow at responding, which is understandable given the circumstances. She let me know she was able to grab two tickets for $295, and she was about to pay but I told her I just got in, so I'd do it.
I got in and realized I had a timer on my screen. They were hurrying me to make a selection. I clicked and clicked and sanged the tickets for 99 bucks each, not bad. It was after I paid that my girl friend asked me what was wrong, as she saw the sheer look of horror on my face.
She looked at my screen, which I had kind of hidden from her, but she was able to take a peek while I was in this dark space. I had bought tickets to OAKLAHOMA.
My dear redditors, just to let you know, I DO NOT LIVE ANYWHERE NEAR FUCKING OAKLAHOMA.
So my girlfriend sees this, and she's stunned because she realized this was supposed to be her present because the concert is like 2 days later, but she also sees I bought the wrong tickets, so she isn't mad at me, but she's sad because: 1. I bought the wrong tickets, wasting money; 2. she messed up her birthday gift; 3. she saw I was sad and empathized with me. I definitely thought I should have just let my mom buy the tickets instead of wanting to pick them out and get them myself. So yeah, I just wasted 255 bucks. I'm trying to resell them and only lose 75, but still.
TL;DR: I wanted presale tickets for childish gambino of my girlfriend's birthday, and I bought tickets for the wrong music venue running her birthday present and me for the whole 255 bucks.

III. Changing Modes of Making It: From Horatio Alger to the Happy Hooker
…
From “Self-Culture” to Self-Promotion through “Winning Images”
In the nineteenth century, the ideal of self-improvement degenerated into a cult of compulsive industry. P.T. Barnum, who made a fortune in a calling the very nature of which the Puritans would have condemned (“Every calling, whereby God will be Dishonored; every Calling whereby none but the Lusts of men are Nourished: …every such Calling is to be Rejected”), delivered many times a lecture frankly entitled “The Art of Money-Getting,” which epitomized the nineteenth-century conception of worldly success. Barnum quoted freely from Franklin but without Franklin’s concern for the attainment of wisdom or the promotion of useful knowledge. “Information” interested Barnum merely as a means of mastering the market. Thus he condemned the “false economy” of the farm wife who douses her candle at dusk rather than lighting another for reading, not realizing that the “information” gained through reading is worth far more than the price of the candles. “Always take a trustworthy newspaper,” Barnum advised young men on the make, “and thus keep thoroughly posted in regard to the transactions of the world. He who is without a newspaper is cut off from his species.”
Barnum valued the good opinion of others not as a sign of one’s usefulness but as a means of getting credit. “Uncompromising integrity of character is invaluable.” The nineteenth century attempted to express all values in monetary terms. Everything had its price. Charity was a moral duty because “the liberal man will command patronage, which the sordid, uncharitable miser will be avoided.” The sin of pride was not that it offended God but that it led to extravagant expenditures. “A spirit of pride and vanity, when permitted to have full sway, is the undying cankerworm which gnaws the very vitals of a man’s worldly possessions.”
The eighteenth century made a virtue of temperance but did not condemn moderate indulgence in the service of sociability. “Rational conversation,” on the contrary, appeared to Franklin and his contemporaries to represent an important value in its own right. The nineteenth century condemned sociability itself, on the grounds that it might interfere with business. “How many good opportunities have passed, never to return, while a man was sipping a ‘social glass’ with his friends!” Preachments on self-help now breathed the spirit of compulsive enterprise. Henry Ward Beecher defined “the beau ideal of happiness” as a state of mind in which “a man [is] so busy that he does not know whether he is or is not happy.” Russell Sage remarked that “work has been the chied, and you might say, the only source of pleasure in my life.”
Even at the height of the Gilded Age, however, the Protestant ethic did not completely lose its original meaning. In the success manuals, the McGuffey readers, the Peter Parley Books, and the hortatory writings of the great capitalists themselves, the Protestant virtues - industry, thrift, temperance - still appeared not merely as stepping-stones to success but as their own reward.
The spirit of self-improvement lived on, in debased form, in the cult of “self-culture” - proper care and training of mind and body, nurture of the mind through “great books,” development of “character.” The social contribution of individual accumulation still survived as an undercurrent in the celebration of success, and the social conditions of early industrial capitalism, in which the pursuit of wealth undeniably increased the supply of useful objects, gave some substance to the claim that “accumulated capital means progress.” In condemning speculation and extravagance, in upholding the importance of patient industry, in urging young men to start at the bottom and submit to “the discipline of daily life,” even the most unabashed exponents of self-enrichment clung to the notion that wealth derives its value from its contribution to the general good and to the happiness of future generations.
The nineteenth-century cult of success placed surprisingly little emphasis on competition. It measured achievement not against the achievements of others but against an abstract ideal of discipline and self-denial. At the turn of the century, however, preachments on success began to stress the will to win. The bureaucratization of the corporate career changed the conditions of self-advancement; ambitious young men now had to compete with their peers for the attention and approval of their superiors. The struggle to surpass the previous generation and to provide for the next gave way to a form of sibling rivalry, in which men of approximately equal abilities jostled against each other in competition for a limited number of places. Advancement now depended on “will-power, self-confidence, energy, and initiative” - the qualities celebrated in such exemplary writings as George Lorimer’s Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son. ” By the end of the nineteenth century,” writes John Cawelti in his study of the success myth, “self-help books were dominated by the ethos of sales-manship and boosterism. Personal magnetism, a quality which supposedly enabled a man to influence and dominate others, became one of the major keys to success.” In 1907, both Lorimer’s Saturday Evening Post and Orison Swett Marden’s Success magazine inaugurated departments of instruction in the “art of conversation,” fashion, and “culture.” The management of interpersonal relations came to be seen as the essence of self-advancement. The captain of industry gave way to the confidence man, the master of impressions. Young men were told that they had to sell themselves in order to succeed.
At first, self-testing through competition remained almost in-distinguishable from moral self-discipline and self-culture, but the difference became unmistakable when Dale Carnegie and then Norman Vincent Peale restated and transformed the tradition of Mather, Franklin, Barnum, and Lorimer. As a formula for success, winning friends and influencing people had little in common with industry and thrift. The prophets of positive thinking disparaged “the old adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door to our desires.” They praised the love of money, officially condemned even by the crudest of Gilded Age materialists, as a useful incentive. “You can never have riches in great quantities,” wrote Napoleon Hill in this Think and Grow Rich,” unless you can work yourself into a white heat of desire for money.” The pursuit of wealth lost the few shreds of moral meaning that still clung to it. Formerly the Protestant virtues appeared to have an independent value of their own. Even when they became purely instrumental, in the second half of the nineteenth century, success itself retained moral and social overtones, by virtue of its contribution to the sum of human comfort and progress. Now success appeared as an end in its own right, the victory over your competitors that alone retained the capacity to instill a sense of self-approval. The latest success manuals differ from earlier ones - even surpassing the cynicism of Dale Carnegie and Peale - in their frank acceptance of the need to exploit and intimidate others, in their lack of interest in the substance of success, and in the candor with which they insist that appearances - “winning images - count for more than performance, ascription for more than achievement. One author seems to imply that the self consists of little more than its “image” reflected in others’ eyes. “Although I’m not being original when I say it, I’m sure you’ll agree that the way you see yourself will reflect the image you portray to others.” Nothing succeeds like the appearance of success.
<The American Religion by Harold Bloom (California Orphism)>
The Apotheosis of Individualism
The fear that haunted the social critics and theorists of the fifties - that rugged individualism had succumbed to conformity and “love-pressure sociability” - appears in retrospect to have been premature. In 1960, David Riesman complained that young people no longer had much social “presence,” their education having provided them not with “a polished personality but [with] an affable, casual, adaptable one, suitable to the losing organizations of an affluent society.” It is true that “a present-oriented hedonism,” as Riseman went on the argue, has replaced the work ethic “among the very classes which in the earlier stages of industrialization were oriented toward the future, toward distant goals and delayed gratification.” But this hedonism is a fraud; the pursuit of pleasure disguises a struggle for power. Americans have not really become more sociable and cooperative, as the theorists of other-direction and conformity would like us to believe; they have merely become more adept at exploiting the conventions of interpersonal relations for their own benefit. Activities ostensibly undertaken purely for enjoyment often have the real object of doing others in. It is symptomatic of the underlying tenor of American life that vulgar terms for sexual intercourse also convey the sense of getting the better of someone, working him over, taking him in, imposing your will through guile, deception, or superior force. Verbs associated with sexual pleasure have acquired more than the usual overtones of violence and psychic exploitation. In the violent world of the ghetto, the language of which now pervades American society as a whole, the violence associated with sexual intercourse is directed with special intensity by men against women, specifically against their mothers. The language of ritualized aggression and abuse reminds those who use it that exploitation is the general rule and some form of dependence the common fate, that “the individual,” in Lee Rainwater’s words, “is not strong enough or adult enough to achieve his goal in a legitimate way, but is rather like a child, dependent on others who tolerate his childish maneuvers”; accordingly males, even adult males, often depend on women for support and nurture. Many of them have to pimp for a living, ingratiating themselves with a woman in order to pry money from her; sexual relations thus become manipulative and predatory. Satisfaction depends on taking what you want instead of waiting for what is rightfully yours to receive. All this enters everyday speech in language that connects sex with aggression and sexual aggression with highly ambivalent feelings about mothers.
In some ways middle-class society has become a pale copy of the black ghetto, as the appropriation of its language would lead us to believe. We do not need to minimize the poverty of the ghetto or the suffering inflicted by whites on blacks in order to see that the increasingly dangerous and unpredictable conditions of middle-class life have given rise to similar strategies for survival. Indeed the attraction of black culture for disaffected whites suggests that black culture now speaks to a general condition, the most important feature of which is a widespread loss of confidence in the future. The poor have always had to live for the present, but now a desperate concern for personal survival, sometimes disguised as hedonism, engulfs the middle class as well. Today almost everyone lives in a dangerous world from which there is little escape. International terrorism and blackmail, bombings, and hijackings arbitrarily affect the rich and poor alike. Crime, violence, and gang wars make cities unsafe and threaten to spread to the suburbs. Racial violence on the streets and in the schools creates an atmosphere of chronic tension and threatens to erupt at any time into full-scale racial conflict. Unemployment spreads from the poor the white-collar class, while inflation eats away the savings of those who hoped to retire in comfort. Much of what is euphemistically known as the middle class, merely because it dresses up to go to work, is now reduced to proletarian conditions of existence. Many white-collar jobs require no more skill and pay even less than blue-collar jobs, conferring little status or security. The propaganda of death and destruction, emanating ceaselessly from the mass media, adds to the prevailing atmosphere of insecurity. Far-flung famines, earthquakes in remote regions, distant wars and uprisings attract the same attention as events closer to home. The impression of arbitrariness in the reporting of disaster reinforces the arbitrary quality of experience itself, and the absence of continuity in the coverage of events, as today’s crisis yields to a new and unrelated crisis tomorrow, adds to the sense of historical discontinuity - the sense of living in a world in which the past holds out no guidance to the present and the future has become completely unpredictable.
Older conceptions of success presupposed a world in rapid motion, in which fortunes were rapidly won and lost and new opportunities unfolded every day. Yet they also presupposed a certain stability, a future that bore some recognizable resemblance to the present and the past. The growth of bureaucracy, the cult of consumption with its immediate gratifications, but above all the severance of the sense of historical continuity have transformed the Protestant ethic while carrying the underlying principles of capitalist society to their logical conclusion . The pursuit of self-interest, formerly identified with the rational pursuit of gain and the accumulation of wealth, has become a search for pleasure and psychic survival. Social conditions now approximate the vision of republican society conceived by the Marquis de Sade at the very outset of the republican epoch. In many ways the most farsighted and certainly the most disturbing of the prophets of revolutionary individualism, Sade defended unlimited self-indulgence as the logical culmination of the revolution in property relations - the only way to attain revolutionary brotherhood in its purest form. By regressing in his writings to the most primitive level of fantasy, Sade uncannily glimpsed the whole subsequent development of personal life under capitalism, ending not in revolutionary brotherhood but in a society of siblings that has outlived and repudiated its revolutionary origins.
Sade imagined a sexual utopia in which everyone has the right to everyone else, where human beings, reduced to their sexual organs, become absolutely anonymous and interchangeable. His ideal society thus reaffirmed the capitalist principle that human beings are ultimately reducible to interchangeable objects. It also incorporated and carried to a surprising new conclusion Hobbes’s discovery that the destruction of paternalism and the subordination of all social relations to the market had stripped away the remaining restraints and the mitigating illusions from the war of all against all. In the resulting state of organized anarchy, as Sade was the first to realize, pleasure becomes life’s only business - pleasure, however, that is indistinguishable from rape, murder, unbridled aggression. In a society that has reduced reason to mere calculation, reason can impose no limits on the pursuit of pleasure - on the immediate gratification of every desire no matter how perverse, insane, criminal, or merely immoral. For the standards that would condemn crime or cruelty derive from religion, compassion, or the kind of reason that rejects purely instrumental applications; and none of these outmoded forms of thought or feeling has any logical place in a society based on commodity production. In his misogyny, Sade perceived that bourgeois enlightenment, carried to its logical conclusions, condemned even the sentimental cult of womanhood and the family, which the bourgeoisie itself had carried to unprecedented extremes.
At the same time, he saw that condemnation of “woman-worship” had to go hand in hand with a defense of woman’s sexual rights - their right to dispose of their own bodies, as feminists would put it today. If the exercise of that right in Sade’s utopia boils down to the duty to become an instrument of someone else’s pleasure, it was not so much because Sade hated women as because he hated humanity. He perceived, more clearly than the feminists, that all freedoms under capitalism come in the end to the same thing, the same universal obligation to enjoy and be enjoyed. In the same breath, and without violating his own logic, Sade demanded for women the right “fully to satisfy all their desires” and “all parts of their bodies” and categorically stated that “all women must submit to our pleasure.” Pure individualism thus issued in the most radical repudiation of individuality. “All men, all women resemble each other,” according to Sade; and to those of his countrymen who would become republicans he adds this ominous warning: “Do not think you can make good republicans so long as you isolated in their families the children who should belong to the republic alone.” The bourgeois defense of privacy culminates - not just in Sade’s thought but in the history to come, so accurately foreshadowed in the very excess, madness, infantilism of his ideas - in the most thoroughgoing attack on privacy; the glorification of the individual, in his annihilation.
<…>
Standing-Reserve.
Note a lack of the “Greek” in Lasch.
Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939 by Georges Bataille, Edited by A. Stoekl, Translated by A. Stoekl, C.R. Lovitt, and D.M. Leslie Jr.
<…>

I have an unhealthy obsession with organizing storage. I've built a big Silo structure at our home base, and everything there is sorted into chests by name, alphabetically. Some things get multiple chests (wood is a good example). In all, its been a huge hit for everyone in the server because everything people need is easy to find, and when they want to drop something off for storage they just put it in the donation chests for me to organize.
I'm caught between my desire to avoid all spoilers, and my desire to not have to re-build my silo more than once. Expanding the structure is quite difficult, so is reorganizing things because of new items.
Is there a way that I can find a list of all new items, but perhaps only the first letter of the item name? If any of the new items are things that you want or could have multiple chests of (for example, a new common wood type), that would also be useful information. I'm going to have to expand the silo's diameter, and I'm hoping that I won't have to re-build or re-organize it more than I have to.
I thought about looking at the wiki for an item list, but I don't think it's complete and I also am afraid of spoilers.

I am mapping out of where the gang ended up post- Beaver Hollow, but I cannot place Mary Beth. I know she is in Valentine during the Epilogue, but I can't tell where she is writing her book in the credits. It looks fancy. What do you all think? Saint Denis maybe?

Previous
Chapter 1
"You imbeciles!" Fytistone shouted at the group.
"But Fy.." The woman standing before Fytistone began.
"No! You idiots abducted an Orc and brought him here!" Fytistone shouted.
"Her..." Derrick began.
"I don't care!" Fytistone screamed at the man, who recoiled from her anger. "They will look here first."
"Who would dare come here?" A man asked, "You are a pillar of this community."
Fytistone took a deep breath, "Yes, I am. But that Orc-loving mayor will come here first."
"Mayor Hamilton loves Orcs?" Derrick asked, "I didn't know that. I wonder if he and the imp are fighting over the Orc?"
Fytistone blinked a few times, "Shut up, Derrick. I don't want to know what nonsense you are spewing." Derrick looked down and mumbled something. Fytistone addressed the remaining humans in the room, "How long until he wakes up?"
"She," Said another man.
Fytistone sneered, "How long until it wakes up?"
"The spell should last twenty-four hours or so." The woman said.
"Fine, wait until tomorrow morning and get it out of here," Fytistone demanded. "I don't want it waking up or Hammy nosing around here. Understood?" The humans nodded.
A human male in the back raised his hand, "Uh, hi, uh, why not sneak her, I mean, it out tonight?"
"Because the guards will notice a single wagon and may want to inspect it. When there's more traffic tomorrow, they'll let you through without looking." Fytistone spoke slowly like she was speaking to a child. "The night guards are far more vigilant than the day guards."
"Ain't that the truth," a man said to the other woman in the room, "Your cousin didn't even look up as we brought her here."
—
"Good morning," Thorn said as she entered the big tent. Everyone had gathered for breakfast. The chatting stopped as Thorn sat down with her bacon, eggs, and coffee.
"Rose is missing!" Rick shouted as he ran into the tent.
"What?" Richard and Bob shouted.
"She didn't come back last night," Rick said, "I've looked all over for her."
Thorn looked at the panicking imp, "She's fine, imp. Maybe she needed some more time."
"Why didn't you say something last night?" Richard asked, ignoring Thorn.
"I, uh," the imp looked down, "I thought maybe she didn't want to see me yet." Rick kicked the ground, "Maybe Thorn was right."
"She's wrong," Ben and Betty said together. Thorn glared at them, and they glared back.
"Ben and Betty are right. She would have come back," Bob said, "She wouldn't have abandoned you." He gave Thorn a nasty look, "No matter who thought of what."
Richard rose from the table. "We need to search for her. I'll get a party together. Bob, you stay here with twins and run the restaurant."
"I'm going," Rick said, "I can smell where she has been."
Thorn looked at the little imp, "You can smell her? I can't believe that. Too many creatures have been through here."
"No, no, I can," Rick said, "She smells of flowers and rain. Everyone has a smell."
"What do I smell like, Rick," Bob asked.
"Gold and dirt," Rick said bluntly.
"Yeah, that tracks." Bob laughed.
The twins looked at each other, "What about us?" They asked.
"You smell of fire, wood, and hope," the twins nodded. “Great Orc Richard smells of sorrow and fallen leaves in autumn," Richard frowned and nodded. “Thorn smells like…" The imp's eyes widened, and he looked away.
"What do I smell like, Imp?" Thorn growled.
"Death." The imp whispered.
Thorn rose from her seat and stared down at the embarrassed imp, "You have a good nose, little one. And you spoke the truth." Thorn looked at Richard, "The imp and I will find Rose. I'm sure she's fine. Probably fell asleep under a tree."
The Orcs looked at each other, and finally, Richard said, "Okay, for now. But if she's in trouble, we'll come help."
Thorn laughed raspily, "No, death stalks the plains today." She turned and left the tent with the little imp running after her.
"I pray to all the gods that nothing has happened to Rose," Richard said. "For her sake and anyone stupid enough to cross those two."
Bob sighed, "Who's going to do the most property damage? Rick or Thorn?"
"Yes," Richard said as he went back to his breakfast.
–
Shaman Thorn and the Imp Rick stalked the camp. Everyone, Orcs, humans, imps, trolls, and giants, stayed out of the way. Soon, they found themselves on the road. Rick's nose was close to the ground like a hound on the trail of a fox.
"Here," Rick said as he stopped. "She was here with many humans and a horse. Her scent was strong but is now weaker."
Thorn inspected the ground and mumbled as she walked around. She stopped next to Rick, "A wagon. There are wheel tracks. I can sense some magic. Faint."
"What does that mean," Rick asked in a panicked voice.
"That Rose rode in a wagon towards the town," Thorn was attempting to not worry, but the more they looked, the more worried she became.
The two strange companions walked in silence toward the town. Neither wanted to talk to the other. Clouds hung in the sky as if watching them walk. Rick pointed to a road that branched off from the main road. They followed it all the way to the side gate.
"Rick!" A guard shouted. Rick looked up and waved. The guard approached the two. "What brings you here?"
"We are looking for the Orc Shaman Rose," Thorn announced, bringing the guard's attention to her. His eyes went wide, and he looked up at the intimidating Orc.
"Uh, well, I, uh," The guard bowed, "Welcome to our town."
"Don't bow, boy. It leaves your head exposed. One swipe and I could take your head right off your shoulders," Thorn said, looking down. Wide-eyed, the guard looked up. Thorn smiled a toothy grin. "Orcs don't bow."
"Right, right, uh," The guard said, "I haven't seen any orcs this morning."
"I can smell her; she came this way," Rick said, getting agitated.
"Maybe yesterday," the guard shouted over his shoulder, "Who was on duty yesterday?"
"Ted," Someone shouted back.
The guard sighed exasperated, "Well, that doesn't do any good. He doesn't do any work." He looked at Rick, "Maybe she came through yesterday. Does she know anyone here?"
"Batty," Rick said excitedly, "She could be visiting Batty."
As the two left, the guard waved over another guard, "Run to the Mayor and tell him they are here."
"Why, sir? They don't seem here to make trouble?" The new guard said.
"Call it a gut feeling, Those two could level this town.”
"An old Orc and an imp?" The new guard laughed.
The guard looked at him, "Yes, now run!"
–
"Something isn't right," Rick said. "Here, the smell stops and turns. The tavern is that way," he pointed.
"Rick! Thorn!" Mayor Hamilton shouted as he ran up to them. His face was red from the exercise. He stopped before the two and caught his breath. "Uh, I, uh, welcome to our town, Shaman Thorn." He bowed his head. "Hi Rick, I heard you are looking for Rose."
"Yes, but her smell goes that way." The imp pointed.
"Oh," The Mayor squeaked. He frowned. Then he growled, "Oh."
"Something the matter, Mayor?" Thorn asked.
"Yes, there is someone who lives that way, and I'm hoping she has nothing to do with this," The Mayor said.
"With what?" Batty asked as she and Battleax walked up.
"Rose is missing!" Rick shouted.
"What!" Batty shouted. She looked at her dad, who was looking toward where Rick was pointing. "Doesn't Fytistone live down that lane?"
"Yes," Battleax and Hamilton said together.
Batty and Rick began a fast march down the lane, and the rest followed.
"We burn her house down," Batty said.
"We kill everyone and then burn down the house," Rick said.
"Okay, everyone, calm down," Battleax said. He looked at Hamilton, who shook his head.
"It's a bad day with a Battleax is telling everyone to calm down," Hamilton said.
Thorn barked a laugh, "Truth." Her voice lowered, "But those two have a point. Rose better be fine."
As they approached the house in question, Fytistone walked out the front door. "Oh my, good morning Mayor, Battleaxes." She looked at Rick and Thorn and sneered, "You."
"Ah, Fytistone, good morning, ah, yes," The Mayor began. "We are looking for a friend. Tall, green Orc goes by the name Rose."
"Never heard of it," Fytistone sneered.
"Right, right, so we have a missing Orc, and we are wondering…" The Mayor began.
"Good!" Fytistone shouted, "We can lose a few more of them."
"Where is she?" Batty shouted as she took a step forward.
Battleax grabbed her arm and said, "Not yet, Batty."
"Where is Rose?" Thorn asked in a low grumble.
"Not here," Fytistone rolled her eyes.
"I can smell her," Rick said.
Fytistone laughed, "Orc stench is everywhere now. One less Orc would make this town smell better."
Hamilton held his arms out, keeping Batty and Rick from charging Fytistone. "Now, Fytistone, uh, we are just wondering if you have seen her."
"No, and I don't like this accusation," Fytistone sneered, "I have things to do. So good…"
The house exploded.

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II. The Narcissistic Personality of Our Time
...
Social Influences on Narcissism
Every age develops its own peculiar forms of pathology, which express in exaggerated form its underlying character structure. In Freud’s time, hysteria and obsessional neurosis carried to extremes the personality traits associated with the capitalist order at an earlier stage in its development - acquisitiveness, fanatical devotion to work, and a fierce repression of sexuality. In our time, the preschizophrenic, borderline, or personality disorders have attracted increasing attention, along with schizophrenia itself. This “change in the form of neuroses has been observed and described since World War II by an ever-increasing number of psychiatrists.” According to Peter L. Giovacchini, “Clinicians are constantly faced with the seemingly increasing number of patients who do not fit current diagnostic categories” and who suffer not from “definitive symptoms” but from “vague, ill-defined complaints.” “When I refer to ‘this type of patient,’” he writes, “practically everyone knows to whom I am referring.” The growing prominence of “character disorders” seems to signify an underlying change in the organization of personality, from what has been called inner-direction to narcissism.
Allen Wheelis argued in 1958 that the change in the “patterns of neuroses” fell “within the personal experience of older psychoanalysts,” while younger ones “become aware of it from the discrepancy between the older descriptions of neuroses and the problems presented by the patients who come daily to their offices. The change is from symptom neuroses to character disorders.” Heinz Lichtenstein, who questioned the additional assertion that it reflected a change in personality structure, nevertheless wrote in 1963 that the “change in neurotic patterns” already constituted a “well-known fact.” In the seventies, such reports have become increasingly common. “It is not accident,” Herbert Hendin notes, “that at the present time the dominant events in psychoanalysis are the rediscovery of narcissism and the new emphasis on the psychological significance of death.” “What hysteria and the obsessive neuroses were to Freud and his early colleagues…at the beginning of this century,” writes Michael Beldoch, “the narcissistic disorders are to the workaday analyst in these last few decades before the next millennium. Today’s patients by and large do not suffer from hysterical paralyses of the legs or hand-washing compulsions; instead it is their very psychic selves that have gone numb or that they must scrub and rescrub in an exhausting and unending effort to come clean.” These patients suffer from “pervasive feelings of emptiness and a deep disturbance of self-esteem.” Burness E. Moore notes that narcissistic disorders have become more and more common. According to Sheldon Bach, “You used to see people coming in with hand-washing compulsions, phobias, and familiar neuroses. Now you see mostly narcissists.” Gilbert J. Rose maintains that the psychoanalytic outlook, “inappropriately transplanted from analytic practice” to everyday life, has contributed to “global permissiveness” and the “over-domestication of instinct,” which in turn contributes to the proliferation of “narcissistic identity disorders.” According to Joel Kovel, the stimulation of infantile cravings by advertising, the usurpation of parental authority by the media and the school, and the rationalization of inner life accompanied by the false promise of personal fulfillment, have created a new type of “social individual.” “The result is not the classical neuroses where an infantile impulse is suppressed by patriarchal authority, but a modern version in which impulse is stimulated, perverted and given neither an adequate object upon which to satisfy itself nor coherent forms of control…. The entire complex, played out in a setting of alienation rather than direct control, loses the classical form of symptom - and the classical therapeutic opportunity of simply restoring an impulse to consciousness.”
The reported increase in the number of narcissistic patients does not necessarily indicate that narcissistic disorders are more common than they used to be, in the population as a whole, or that they have become more common than the classical conversion neurosis. Perhaps they simply come more quickly to psychiatric attention. Ilza Veith contends that “with the increasing awareness of conversion reactions and the popularization of psychiatric literature, the ‘old-fashioned’ somatic expressions of hysteria have become suspect among the more sophisticated classes, and hence most physicians observe that obvious conversion symptoms are now rarely encountered and, if at all, only among the uneducated.” The attention given to character disorders in recent clinical literature probably makes psychiatrists more alert to their presence. But this possibility by no means diminishes the importance of psychiatric testimony about the prevalence of narcissism, especially when this testimony appears at the same time that journalists begin to speculate about the new narcissism and the unhealthy trend toward self-absorption. The narcissist comes to the attention of psychiatrists for some of the same reasons that he rises to positions of prominence not only in awareness movements and other cults but in business corporations, political organizations, and government bureaucracies. For all his inner suffering, the narcissist has many traits that make for success in bureaucratic institutions, which put a premium on the manipulation of interpersonal relations, discourage the formation of deep personal attachments, and at the same time provide the narcissist with the approval he needs in order to validate his self-esteem. Although he may resort to therapies that promise to give meaning to life and to overcome his sense of emptiness, in his professional career the narcissist often enjoys considerable success. The management of personal impressions comes naturally to him, and his mastery of its intricacies serves him well in political and business organizations where performance now counts for less than “visibility,” “momentum,” and a winning record. As the “organization man” gives way to the bureaucratic “gamesman” - the “loyalty era” of American business to the age of the “executive success game” - the narcissist comes into his own.
In a study of 250 managers from twelve major companies, Michael Maccoby describes the new corporate leader, not altogether unsympathetically, as a person who works with people rather than with materials and who seeks not to build an empire or accumulate wealth but to experience “the exhilaration of running his team and of gaining victories.” He wants to “be known as a winner, and his deepest fear is to be labeled a loser.” Instead of pitting himself against a material task or a problem demanding solution, he puts himself against others, out of a “need to be in control.” As a recent textbook for managers puts it, success today means “not simply getting ahead” but “getting ahead of others.” The new executive, boyish, playful, and “seductive,” wants in Maccoby’s words “to maintain an illusion of limitless options.” He has little capacity for “personal intimacy and social commitment.” He feels little loyalty even to the company for which he works. One executive says he experiences power “as not being pushed around by the company.” In his upward climb, this man cultivates powerful customers and attempts to use them against his own company. “You need a very big customer,” according to his calculations, “who is always in trouble and demands changes from the company. That way you automatically have power in the company, and with the customer too. I like to keep my options open.” A professor of management endorses this strategy. “Overidentification” with the company, in his view, “produces a corporation with enormous power over the careers and destinies of its true believers.” The bigger the company, the more important he thinks it is for executes “to manage their careers in terms of their own…free choices” and to “maintain the widest set of options possible.”
According to Maccoby, the gamesman “is open to new ideas, but he lacks convictions.” He will do business with any regime, even if he disapproves of its principles. More independent and resourceful than the company man, he tries to use the company for his own ends, fearing that otherwise he will be “totally emasculated by the corporation.” He avoids intimacy as a trap, preferring the “exciting, sexy atmosphere” with which the modern executive surrounds himself at work, “where adoring, mini-skirted secretaries constantly flirt with him.” In all his personal relations, the gamesman depends on the admiration or fear he inspires in others to certify his credentials as a “winner.” As he gets older, he finds it more and more difficult to command the kind of attention on which he thrives. He reaches a plateau beyond which he does not advance in his job, perhaps because the very highest positions, as Maccoby notes, still go to “those able to renounce adolescent rebelliousness and become at least to some extent believers in the organization.” The job begins to lose its savor. Having little interest in craftsmanship, the new-style executive takes no pleasure in his achievements once he begins to lose the adolescent charm on which they rest. Middle age hits him with the force of a disaster: “Once his youth, vigor, and even the thrill in winning are lost, he becomes depressed and goalless, questioning the purpose of his life. No longer energized by the team struggle and unable to dedicate himself to something he believes in beyond himself, … he finds himself starkly alone.” It is not surprising, given the prevalence of this career pattern, that popular psychology returns so often to the “midlife crisis” and to ways of combating it.
In Wilfrid Sheed’s novel Office Politics, a wife asks, “There are real issues, aren’t there, between Mr. Fine and Mr. Tyler?” Her husband answers that the issues are trivial; “the jockeying of ego is the real story.” Eugene Emerson Jennings’s study of management, which celebrates the demise of the organization man and the advent of the new “era of mobility,” insists that corporate “mobility is more than mere job performance.” What counts is “style…panache…the ability to say and do almost anything without antagonizing others.” The upwardly mobile executive, according to Jennings, knows how to handle the people around him - the “shelf-sitter” who suffers from “arrested mobility” and envies success; the “fast learner”; the “mobile superior.” The “mobility-bright executive” has learned to “read” the power relations in his office and “to see the less visible and less audible side of his superiors, chiefly their standing with their peers and superiors.” He “Can infer from a minimum of cues who are the centers of power, and he seeks to have high visibility and exposure with them. He will assiduously cultivate his standing and opportunities with them and seize every opportunity to learn from them. He will utilize his opportunities in social world to size up the men who are centers of sponsorship in the corporate world.”
Constantly comparing the “executive success game” to an athletic contest or a game of chess, Jennings treats the substance of executive life as if it were just as arbitrarily and irrelevant to success as the task of kicking a ball through a net or of moving pieces over a chessboard. He never mentions the social and economic repercussions of managerial decisions or the power that managers exercise over society as a whole. For the corporate manager on the make, power consists not of money and influence but of “momentum,” a “winning image,” a reputation as a winner . Power lies in the eye of the beholder and thus has no objective reference at all.
The manager’s view of the world, as described by Jennings, Maccoby, and by the managers themselves, is that of the narcissist, who sees the world as a mirror of himself and has no interest in external events except as they throw back a reflection of his own image. The dense interpersonal environment of modern bureaucracy, in which work assumes an abstract quality almost wholly divorced from performance, by its very nature elicits and often rewards a narcissistic response. Bureaucracy, however, is only one of a number of social influences that are bringing a narcissistic type of personality organization into greater and greater prominence. Another such influence is the mechanical reproduction of culture, the proliferation of visual and audial images in the “society of the spectacle.” We live in a swirl of images and echoes that arrest experience and play it back in slow motion. Cameras and recording machines not only transcribe experience but alter its quality, giving to much of modern life that character of an enormous echo chamber, a hall of mirrors. Life presents itself as a succession of images of electronic signals, of impressions recorded and reproduced by means of photography, motion pictures, television, and sophisticated recording devices. Modern life is thoroughly mediated by electronic images that we cannot help responding to others as if their actions - and our own - were being recorded and simultaneously transmitted to an unseen audience or stored up for close scrutiny at some later time. “Smile, you’re on candid camera!” The intrusion into everyday life of this all-seeing eye no longer takes us by surprise or catches us with our defenses down. We need no reminder to smile. A smile is permanently graven on our features, and we already known from which of several angles its photographs to best advantage.
The proliferation of recorded images undermines our sense of reality. As Susan Sontag observes in her study of photography, “Reality has come to seem more and more like what we are shown by cameras.” We distrust our perceptions until the camera verifies them. Photographic images provide us with the proof of our existence, without which we would find it difficult even to reconstruct a personal history. Bourgeois families in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Sontag points out, posed for portraits in order to proclaim the family’s status, whereas today the family album of photographs verifies the individual’s existence: its documentary record of his development from infancy onward provides him with the only evidence of his life that he recognizes as altogether valid. Among the “many narcissistic uses” that Sontag attributes to the camera, “self-surveillance” ranks among the most important, not only because it provides the technical means of ceaseless self-scrutiny but because it renders the sense of selfhood dependent on the consumption of images of the self, at the same time calling into question the reality of the external world.
By preserving images of the self at various stages of development, the camera helps to weaken the older idea of development as moral education and to promote a more passive idea according to which development consists of passing through the stages of life at the right time and in the right order. Current fascination with the life cycle embodies an awareness that success in politics or business depends on reaching certain goals on schedule; but it also reflects the ease with which developments can be electronically recorded. This brings us to another cultural change that elicits a widespread narcissistic response and, in this case, gives it a philosophical sanction: the emergence of a therapeutic ideology that upholds a normative schedule of psychosocial development and thus gives further encouragement to anxious self-scrutiny. The idea of normative development creates the fear that any deviation from the norm has a pathological source. Doctors have made a cult of periodic checkup - an investigation carried out once again by means of cameras and other recording instruments - and have implanted in their clients the notion that health depends on eternal watchfulness and the early detection of symptoms, as verified by medical technology. The client no longer feels physically or psychologically secure until his X-rays confirm a “clean bill of health.”
Medicine and psychiatry - more generally, the therapeutic outlook and sensibility that pervade modern society - reinforce the pattern created by other cultural influences, in which the individual endlessly examines himself for signs of aging and ill health, for tell-tale symptoms of psychic stress, for blemishes and flaws that might diminish his attractiveness, or on the other hand for reassuring indications that his life is proceeding according to schedule. Modern medicine has conquered the plagues and epidemics that once made life so precarious, only to create new forms of insecurity. In the same way, bureaucracy has made life predictable and even boring while reviving, in a new form, the war of all against all. Our overorganized society, in which large-scale organizations predominate but have lost the capacity to command allegiance, in some respects more nearly approximates a condition of universal animosity than did the primitive capitalism on which Hobbes managed his state of nature. Social conditions today encourage a survival mentality, expressed in its crudest form in disaster movies or in fantasies of space travel, which allow vicarious escape from a doomed planet. People no longer dream of overcoming difficulties but merely of surviving them. In business, according to Jennings, “The struggle is to survive emotionally” -to “preserve or enhance one’s identity or ego.” The normative concept of developmental stages promotes a view of life as an obstacle course: the aim is simply to get through the course with a minimum of trouble and pain. The ability to manipulate what Gail Sheehy refers to, using a medical metaphor, as “life-support systems” now appears to represent the highest form of wisdom: the knowledge that gets us through, as she puts it, without panic. Those who master Sheehy’s “no-panic approach to aging” and to the traumas of the life cycle will be able to say, in the words of one of her subjects, “I know I can survive… I don’t panic any more.” This is hardly an exalted form of satisfaction, however. “The current ideology,” Sheehy writes, “seems a mix of personal survivalism, revivalism, and cynicism”; yet her enormously popular guide to the “predictable crises of adult life,” with its superficially optimistic hymn to growth, development, and “self-actualization,” does not challenge this ideology, merely restates it in more “humanistic” form. “Growth” has become a euphemism for survival.
The World View of the Resigned
New social forms require new forms of personality, new modes of socialization, new ways of organizing experience. The concept of narcissism provides us not with a ready-made psychological determinism but with a way of understanding the psychological impact of recent social changes - assuming that we bear in mind not only its clinical origins but the continuum between pathology and normality. It provides us, in other words, with a tolerably accurate portrait of the “liberated” personality of our time, with his charm, his pseudo-awareness of his own condition, his promiscuous pansexuality, his fascination with oral sex, his fear of the castrating mother (Mrs. Portnoy), his hypochondria, his protective shallowness, his avoidance of dependence, his inability to mourn, his dread of old age and death.
Narcissism appears realistically to represent the best way of coping with the tensions and anxieties of modern life, and the prevailing social conditions therefore tend to bring out narcissistic traits that are present, in varying degrees, in everyone. These condition have also transformed the family, which in turn shapes the underlying structure of personality. A society that dears it has no future is not likely to give much attention to the needs of the next generation, and the ever-present sense of historical discontinuity - the blight of our society - falls with particularly devastating effect on the family. The modern parent’s attempt to make children feel loved and wanted does not conceal an underlying coolness - the remoteness of those who have little to pass on the next generation and who in any case give priority to their own right to self-fulfillment. The combination of emotional detachment with attempts to convince a child of his favored position in the family is a good prescription for a narcissistic personality structure.
Through the intermediary of the family, social patterns reproduce themselves in personality. Social arrangements live on in the individual, buried in the mind below the level of consciousness, even after they have become objectively undesirable and unnecessary - as many of our present arrangements are now widely acknowledged to have become. The perception of the world as a dangerous and forbidding place, though it originates in a realistic awareness of the insecurity of contemporary social life, receives reinforcement from the narcissistic projection of aggressive impulses outward. The belief that society has no future, while it rests on a certain realism about the dangers ahead, also incorporates a narcissistic inability to identify with posterity or to feel one self part of a historical stream.
The weakening of social ties, which originates in the prevailing state of social warfare, at the same time reflects a narcissistic defense against dependence. A warlike society tends to produce men and women who are at heart antisocial. It should therefore not surprise us to find that although the narcissist conforms to social norms for fear of external retribution, he often thinks of himself as an outlaw and sees others in the same way, “as basically dishonest and unreliable, or only reliable because of external pressures.” “The value systems of narcissistic personalities are generally corruptible,” writes Kernberg, “in contrast to the rigid morality of the obsessive personality.”
The ethic of self-preservation and psychic survival is rooted, then, not merely in objective conditions of economic warfare, rising rates of crime, and social chaos but in the subjective experience of emptiness and isolation. It reflects the conviction - as much a projection of inner anxieties as a perception of the way things are - that envy and exploitation dominate even the most intimate relations. The cult of personal relations, which becomes increasingly intense as the hope of political solutions recedes, conceals a thoroughgoing disenchantment with personal relations, just as the cult of sensuality implies a repudiation of sensuality in all but its most primitive forms. The ideology of personal growth, superficially optimistic, radiates a profound despair and resignation. It is the faith of those without faith.

Everything fucking sucks. I'm a terrible person and I keep fucking up things with my family who the situation is too complicated with to go into but basically I was abused in the past and things sometimes still get bad but mostly now I'm just the one in the wrong.
I'm so introverted I'm basically an associate loser anytime I'm at home and even around friends i'm a lpt more cheerful and outgoing but im still pretty reserved and space out a lot. I barely talk to my family anymore even though they constantly try to talk to me and include me. I'm constantly fighting with my parents over the shit that I forget to do or am not listening about or my bad attitude.
I'm terrified of the future. I can't drive. I stopped working out a few weeks ago. I have loving and supporting friends but it feels like I'm constantly victimizing and playing victim to get attention but I can never embrace others or receive love or anything when they recognize I'm struggling and try to show love. I just fucking push everyone away and then the cycle repeats.
I have super close family visiting but it feels like I barely even have anything to say to anyone anymore. My mom even tells me from time to time when we fight that I didnt use to be like this. I'm just a fucked up empty loser at this point. I plan to join the military to pay for college but I struggle with suicidal thoughts daily now and have on and off for over a decade.
I can't have a proper relationship because I have no game but also because I'm too traumatized and emotionally broken to have a healthy relationship or hold one with someone who isn't at least as fucked up as me, and even then my last and only relationship ended because I was too fucked up and made it terrible.
I dream of becoming an author or a teacher or a counselor but I don't have the work ethic to do that shit anymore. I love art and writing but I'm shit and its ultimately pointless. Anything I make would just be shitty anyway I think. I love hearing praise for my work and for myself as a person but thats just because I'm a selfish asshole. I wonder sometimes nowadays if I could even be a narcissist. I've done hard shit before and it feels like I've just checked out. I've lived my life for long enough already. I'm just so tired and I feel so fucking bad. I'm a terrible guy. I hate my body. I hate my personality and I hate that everything I'm going through feels like I'm just doing it all to myself for attention because sometimes it randomly clears up and I'm left wondering what the fuck happened and I feel the urge to try and make myself go back to being fucking depressed and suicidal and I don't know why.
I have a best friend who says that she feels like she's lazy and useless and hater her body. I want to tell her that she's beautiful and amazing and awesome in every way and that I love her, but when we say we love each other, it's only as friends. I'll be going away soon for the military and she'll never know just how in love I am with her. I tell her that my heart breaks that she feels that way but she says she feels worse that I feel the way that I do about myself. She says that she's healing and getting better and learning to love herself but that I can't seem to let myself do that. Maybe she's right. I'm just glad she isn't hurting as bad as me.
My Mom and me fought again today. She's cracking under the pressure of living with my psycho stepdad and her psycho oldest son (me) because we end up not getting along a lot. I make her cry often. I say harsh things to her and I feel some strange need to reject and deny her affections even when I want to embrace her. Sometimes I become the center of attention at events where our achievements are announced, or on my birthday or at a party, but I just want to shrink back into a piece of dust so small that I vanish from the world entirely.
I'm happy around my friends, at least happier than when I'm alone. Or maybe I'm just more outgoing and distracted?. Around my family I'm just a fucking asshole hermetic loser, even those family I really love and like to be around and talk to a bunch, I talk with them and I'm normal but I just never feel "right" no matter what I'm doing. My big wish for years and years that hasn't either been to become a great artist or to find true love has been to use all of my energy I have left to improve the lives of others and take away their problems so I can just fucking die and leave living to them.
I even feel bad about fucking feeling bad. My teachers and friends all wrote such sweet things in my yearbook. "Love you bro." "Never lose hope." "I know you'll do great things. Never change!" And yet here I am for God knows what time this week vividly imagining scenarios in which I just betray everyone I know and let everyone down by ending it all. There just isn't a solution. And whatever solution there really might be, I'm too lazy and fucked up to actually work towards it and bear it all.
I just want to go off to some fantasy where everything is perfect, except I'm not me, I'm someone else. Because it feels like I'll never be okay no matter what happens or where I am or who I'm with. I'm so fucking sad man. Everything fucking sucks. Please help me.
A rabbit just came really close to me and sat by me for a second and hopped away. The worst part about feeling bad is that it's on and off. I liked seeing it there and I felt wonder. But I feel bad again now. And I feel a pull when I don't, to return to feeling terrible when I'm feeling happy. I think I'd feel fine if I didn't constantly try to push and keep myself down. I wonder if I really do do it to myself for whatever reason, or if I actually am the victim or sufferer of some kinds of issues or problems? I think part of ot is to feel special. Also to have a constant issue that needs to be addressed. And of course, as an excuse to make nothing of myself and throw away the hard work myself and others have put in. Hundreds of hours of athletics and fitness? Gone. Years of academic achievement? Gone. A lifetime of toil on behalf of my family members? The care of friends and family? The love others have towards me, supposedly irreplaceable and uniquely special and well-adored me? All down the drain.
My least favorite feeling in the whole wide world is letting others down. And killing myself would be the ultimate letdown. The ultimate cruelty. So that's why I haven't done it yet. I have often wished, even since young childhood, that everyone stopped caring about me so I could kill myself without anyone worrying or being sad about it. I often exhibit self-destructive tendencies and desires that I sometimes wonder might be in service of this goal, to drive away everyone and everything until the internal hellscape of my mind becomes reality.

Hello, whoever you are on your side of this screen.
Predictability and ordinarity bores me. The idea of casual sex makes me more asleep than a Snorlax. I also don't want to be asked "How are you?" for the millionth time. And photos - well, one is always more than enough.
I'm sure I'm not everyone's cup of tea, but I don't seek anything ordinary, either. I'm just an author and researcher currently living in Portugal, and looking for someone new and truly unique to inspire me. We can talk about pretty much anything, plus you can learn a ton of super unusual but cool stuff if you're also into culture, literature, legends, stories, etc. What else can I tell you about me? Well, I'm often told I'm the most interesting person people have ever met, but let's go here for ten groups of facts about me and my life:
1- I've travelled to over 100 countries in search of knowledge, my favourite place being the streams of water and forests in the north of the Pyrenées, where I once placed my feet in the water and meditated for days.
2- I do not have a favourite book, but I do feel many marked my life. For example, Ovid's "Ars Amatoria" (as a teen), Cicero's "De Senectute" (as an adult), the "Ramayana" (as someone eager to explore other cultures), the "Nag Hammadi Library" (as a person deeply interested in lost religious texts), etc.
3- I once met a really amazing woman, we were together for 10+ years, we never married but we both knew neither of us was going anywhere else, I lost her in 2014 (and I don't want to talk about it), and I'm perfectly comfortable being single.
4- I've published over 80 books, between my real name and various pseudonyms, with the most sold having been top 100 on Amazon, and the least sold still stuck at under 10 copies (and it's intentionally supposed to sell very little).
5- In college I studied Computer Science, Psychology, French "LLCs" and Classical + Medieval Studies, but among my many passions you can also count Theology, Philosophy, Art, Mythology, Classical Music, Western Mysticism, Languages, etc.
6- I dislike social media and photos of people. I hardly ever take photos of myself or others, but I do have an enormous collection of photos I've taken around the globe, where I mostly tried to eternalize places and moments.
7- Apart from writing, I spend most of my free time as a volunteer for projects related to Culture, Children, and Mental Welfare. I also tend to donate to charity on a monthly basis, because I feel we should try to spread to others the good things we have in our lives.
8- Although I'm 39, I'm perfectly okay talking to much younger, or much older, people, because I feel they can also teach me a lot of things that I'm not necessarily familiarized with. And, in fact, one of my biggest pleasures in "real" life is talking to random people and learning new stuff from them.
9- I survived cancer and meningitis. I'm 99% okay, with the exception of a small physical problem most people never even notice.
10- I was recently "rejected" from a buddhist monastery for health reasons, since it seems my constant need for medication for an auto-immune disease would contrast with the simple life their monks need to have. So, yeah, that's mostly why I'm back online and posting this message.
So... if you are indeed tired of the usual messages and conversations, write me. Maybe you are indeed what I seek.

I 17f have been working at a company for over 2 years. Recently I have been really busy and I have a lot of stuff going on in my life. From high school graduation to injuries to sickness, you name it, it happened this past month. Some context: I am on antidepressants that make my immune system a little bit weaker than normal so I’m more prone to sicknesses and the only reason I stay on it is because it works like a charm my grandmother who is my legal guardian has been extremely busy for the past year because we adopted two little girls, her step-grandchildren. one of whom had gotten sexually assaulted. So she’s busy with court and therapy and everything for them. I lived with my grandmother and grandfather since I was 2 months old, all the way up until June of last year. this has been extremely hard on me as I have nowhere to direct my anger. I don’t wanna sound like a stuck up little brat, but I’ve always been an only child. This happened out of nowhere, and we was also told that they would only be there for five months max, it’s been over two years. I cannot direct my anger at those little girls because I’m not that kind of person and it is NOT their fault that they got sexually assaulted, I also cannot direct my anger at my grandmother or grandfather bc They were just trying to do a good thing and help these girls. However, I no longer get to go out on Saturday girls dates with my grandmother and my my grandfather never gets to take me fishing anymore. They are old and they will not be here much longer, I would love to spend my time with them, but I can’t because they are so busy. They didn’t even come to my senior prom Pictures.. i’ve been struggling on where to put my anger. Which has left me tremendously depressed and always angry and anxious. So excuse me if I don’t wanna work my shift a day. because I have no motivation. I literally feel like I lost my family. They were like my mother and father and it’s almost like they are just gone. Out of nowhere. As I mentioned, I’m also a senior in high school so I’m dealing with things from class night,senior sunrise, class night practice, graduation practice, baccalaureate, graduation, prom, and my birthday is May 27 but we are doing me a combined graduation party and birthday party on the 25th. I’m a busy girl these days. My grandmother as I mentioned is always busy so I don’t direct my anger towards her at all and I don’t want to sound like I’m being mean but I told her in December 2023 that my Therapy Place had appointments for me, one of which was my one year therapy assessment, my one year medicine assessment, and a nursing assessment, all of my Therapy Place would not let me schedule as I’m not 18 yet. I don’t know if she simply just forgot or just didn’t care, however I have slowly been running out of medicine and I am now taking 25 mg of a medicine that I’m supposed to be taking 150 mg of. This is the same medicine that causes me to be sick occasionally. it really happens whenever I take one and then forget to take one the next day so this drastic change of 150mg to 25mg in the span of 2 months has not been ideal. It’s making me sick and angry and sad and crazy. All of this has also been causing a lot of issues in my relationship with my boyfriend 18m. We’re arguing all the time and it’s not helping anything. So I have a lot going on. And yes, I have been calling out a lot, however, everything with graduation I told my ex boss about a MONTH ago. This is not new information. Out of NOWHERE he scheduled me to work around 40 hours (my normal hours are about 15-20 a week as I’m working on school and applying to colleges and focused on graduation ) However, today he feels the need to call me and explain to me in passive aggressive words how I am making his and everyone else’s life harder and saying a few other things which all equaled up to “your a big inconvenience for everyone” This alone really hurt as my boss and I always got along ok. He knew what I was going through but assumed I was a liar despite me being a manager for 2 years now and still felt the need to call me and tell me how much of a problem I am. I was honestly going to let this slide and work my last shift and then tell him not to put me on the schedule anymore. But this is when I called my best friend for advice! Then she proceeds to tell me, my boss and another female coworker were stalking my social media accounts to see if I was really hurt. ( I had an ankle injury caused by tripping over my dress walking out of prom.) And I’m not going to lie to you. I really really really hurt my ankle. I was wearing a boot. I have been cooped up in the house for about a week and a half and I was sick and tired of it. My sister and her boyfriend and my boyfriend were all over and we decided we want to go to topgolf. I figured I had rested enough and I was really eager to get out of the house. I got all dressed up and was wearing my boot as we went into Topgolf! Only to find out that we had to be 21 or older to go past the certain time. We tried to get our older siblings to come, but they were busy! I had gotten all dressed up for the first time in a while and I wanted to take some Instagram pictures. That way it didn’t feel like I got dressed up for nothing. I took my boot off and slipped a regular shoe on as I didn’t want to wear a big ass boot in my instagram photos. The girls that get it get it! In all of these pictures, I either have my hurt foot up off of the ground or I am holding it up equal to my knee. Because as I said it really hurt. So I posted my pictures and all was fine. I also made a few tick-tock‘s. Well apparently both of these actions were illegal. As my boss and his suck up of a coworker felt the need to stalk my social media to see if I was lying I guess. You can check the images yourself on instagram at @molleigh_1 After I found this out, I texted my boss as follows:
Ok, I was gonna let the whole “ passive aggressively calling me an inconvenience” thing slide, however i just don’t understand why you and Alana feel the need to search up my social media accounts and see what I’m doing but if you must know my instagram pictures were taken while my boot was off because I didn’t want to wear a big boot in my pictures. My boot was still in the car. If you look closely in the pictures you can see that I am leaning my weight on my good foot and have my bad foot either up in the air or I am not fully stepping on it. I also didn’t know it was illegal to post videos of myself on tiktok when I’m sick, that’s New info to me. I also just talked to my best friend who did not know about my foot injury, just told her about it. You can come ask my entire family if you’d like. They have seen me walking around the house in a boot. It’s not fair to assume I’m a liar as you weren’t there. You can’t tell if I’m in pain from a picture or video. it’s weird that you guys are looking up my accounts. That’s honestly creepy. Now that my parents and I know this creepy, unsettling information I will not be working that last shift, (I’m not allowed) you all can go stalk other people! If you feel the need to reply or have anything to say, you can contact (My dads number) Have the day you deserve, and goodbye.
Here’s the reasoning behind why he’s a pedo: - 40 yr old man who only hires teen girls. -Would always show up 5 mins after my shift started claiming he had work to do but then would sit in the office with me just to try and chat. - anytime he would arrive I would simply move my things out of the office and set out by the serving area to which he would say “ I didn’t kick you out you can come sit back here with me” - gave me sexual looks more than one time. - places security cameras in odd places such as facing the backs of his workers so he can look at their asses I’m guessing ( it’s not just one camera it’s all of them) - there’s been claims of him sexually assaulting his workers in the past (just found this out) -multiple workers have quit because they felt uncomfortable around him.
Am I the a hole? Did I do the right thing? Am I just being dramatic and overcomplicating this? Help!

This is really stupid so I apologize in advance. I kind of just want to know to what extent this will go to? My boyfriend and I were parked in a college’s parking lot because it has an overview of the lake. It’s night time, we were staring at the lake and talking and then we started making out. All of sudden a bright light flashes at us and there’s a security officer shining a flashlight through the driver window. My boyfriend unrolls the window, he tells us it’s a private campus and that we need to leave but that we’re not in trouble. He took my boyfriend’s drivers license and wrote down his name, but I didn’t have my license on me so I gave him my name (so I lied). Told us he had to write down our names for the activity log. It was all around a very awkward encounter. As far as I know there weren’t any body cams or anything. I’m in the process of getting my security clearance, is it possible that this can show up? I’m sorry if this is a stupid question, I’m just a little paranoid now.

I have no idea. My mom is an addict, and she goes through money like water. All my life my family (uncles and aunts) have always taken any birthday money i got and held onto it for me so it was kept safe, I never understood it until I got older. My family has plenty of financial issues we always have, with a single mother raising four kids and all. Anyways, I always help my mom out bc she’s always low on money I buy groceries, I buy all the food for the animals (cat and dog) (that I also bought myself) and I pay for my own car and my own phone. So basically, I have very little money to my name. And after what happened tonight I’m so done, for now on I’m taking care of my animals and my own things and that’s all. Basically, I’ve been hiding a tip jar in my drawer of all the tips I get from work, it wasn’t much only like 150$ in there including all the coins about (70$) and dollars about (80$) but I went to put it in a new jar to discover I had 5$ in dollars left over (the change was still there ig she didn’t feel like counting it) but I flipped out and went off asking how the f^ck she could do that to her own kid, and she just kept denying it. Mother’s Day was last week and I got her what must’ve been $$$ worth of gifts (Flowers, Homemade Cookies, Chocolate Strawberry’s, and a Big Candle) this whole thing has completely broken me. And I know it’s not a lot of money but it’s not even about that. Idk what to do, I’m not close with any of my family anymore to the point that they’d let me move in, but I also can’t afford to move out, and I don’t have any friends that are financially able to move out/room mate with me and/ or are in the same state I am. I’m 22 and I feel like I’m such a f^cking loser to be where I’m at right now and just have no idea what I can do.

Hi! My name is Hunter, but I go by Ezrenee as a pen name. I'm new to Wattpad and am going to publish my book, The Last Sunflower, unpaid on there. I currently have a short story and an ongoing poem anthology published. I don't have any followers and less than 20 reads total. Please drop a comment, vote, follow, read some or all of my work, or do everything! My Wattpad username is Ezreneewrites. If you have any questions or want to talk about my work, email me at ezrenee.writes@gmail.com . Thank you!

Lets see if this post belongs here?
We live in residential area at the neck of a cricle of a sibdivision, cars general speed past even though theres alot of children about during the day. Anyway. Ok our dog who "never" goes out the front of the house. Snuck out with me when I took the garbage out about 9pm (was dark). I thought he went down a cpl houses, you can't really see as there's not a street light down there.
The kids were walking down to get him, calling his name a car turned down the road, as the dog was crossing the kids could see him in her headlights.. well he didn't make it, she didn't slow down at all i was behind them all i heard was what i thought the dog splattering in the road.
Well she was going so fast he bounced off her car, and smashed into the curb.. shattering his tibia and fibia(sp?). Kids screaming several neighbors came over sampson (dog) came running back on 3 leg. He laid down in the garage everyone immediately started looking up er vets.
She didn't stop, but she did come back. Said she wasn't paying attention it was her fault and offered to pay for all his injuries to fix him. Well was 1700 first night I pd. Surgery was quoted at 5100.00 we asked they offered 3000.00 secured the rest so he could have surgery through fundraising and such.
I have soo much going on right now, I work full time, school full time. My son just turned 18 last week we race mx every weekend. My mom's estate just got filed. Like just alot... it just dawned on me I can't go to any of the races as I can't put a crippled dog onto someone else.. like my whole summer is ruined being my son's last yr of racing, this bums me out.
I get mad like why am I begging for money when I didn't do it. Why am I making multiple 2 hr trips to the vet because of her negligence?
I messaged her all that pretty much and asked if she had any ideas maybe her car insurance would pay etc. Idk I'm just overloaded with shit right nowhe is a 100lb dog we had him home for a cpl days waiting for surgery and its not easy getting him in and out and babysitting his splint to not get wet.. baggiesnon his foot etc diapers on inside to not leak. Just alot.
She said we were hoping 3000 was enuff to help amd said take care!
So my quesrion is do i just deal with my stress load and max out my credit cards due to her negligence or run it through small claims?.
Am I at fault for the dog crossing the road? Or her for being on her phone? Cops weren't called, I can go make a report though and I have neighbors that she told she was texting too and would write a statement, they also heard her say she would pay for it all..
I just don't want to bring it to court and end up with a ticket, I mean I don't mind if I get a ticket but its her fault right? In the end...
I dont know what to do.. maybe the stress is getting to me amd I'm just being a baby with the 8-12 weeks of additional responsibilities I don't know anymore!
Thanks for any advice!

Memory Transcript Subject: Carlos Jose Rodriguez, Mechanical Engineer, Florida Man
Date [Standardized Human Time]: December 29th, 2136
When Yalga passed out on the couch I sent a message to the family group chat making sure everyone knew of the situation.
I needed to get Yalga into the hospital, but I didn’t want to do it myself. Pyon also needed a sitter, so I was waiting for mom to come back so Salisek and I could focus on Yalga.
Me: Yalga burned herself on the heat pad. We’re taking her to the ER. Mom, could you come home to take care of Pyon.
Mom: WHAT DO YOU MEAN BURNED HERSELF?! We’re coming home!
Tarvik: On our way. We’ll help you take her.
I didn’t want to bother them, but I couldn’t complain. I needed help. While I waited for them to arrive I poured a cool glass of water for Yalga so she could hydrate herself when she gets up. I gently nudged her awake, which made her groan in discomfort as her eyes opened.
“Dad? What’s going on?” She asked weakly. Her voice was a little rough.
“I’m gonna take you to the doctor,” I answered bluntly. “I am aware, you don’t love doctors but these people can help you much better than me. I’ll be with you as much as I can, holding your hand. Can you be brave for me?”
My daughter nodded yes, so I got up and went upstairs to grab something we’re definitely gonna need. I also made sure Salisek got the news. She probably saw through the chat, but I needed to be sure.
I peeked into our room, or at least the room the girls were staying in together. “Honey?” I called the mother of my children. Salisek was cradling Pyon, trying to calm him down. Pyon was holding his teddy tight enough to cause some visible rips and tears. I need to ask mom to fix that later. “How is he?”
Pyon buried his face in Saliseks chest fur, and made some small whining sounds. “He’s scared. We heard Yalga scream and didn’t know what was going on. He soiled himself when he heard Yalga and has been crying for a while now. He only just stopped. He can sense I’m worried too.”
“You changed him right?”
“Yeah, although I didn’t think now was a good time for potty training. What are you getting?”
Salisek followed me to my mom’s room and watched me search around the closet. “Almost a decade ago, my dad was hit by a car. Something about the sensors being screwed up. He’s obviously fine now, but the car didn’t stop just in time so he broke a leg. Thank God that’s all he got. Anyway, he bought a wheelchair and kept it- Aha!”
I freed the simple contraption buried under a mountain of clothes dad considered put away and carried it downstairs.
“We’re gonna need this. It’s gonna be way easier to move Yalga.”
Salisek continued to cradle Pyon, rocking him back and forth, as she talked to me, “What do you need me to do?”
“Stay with Pyon.”
“No.”
“We’re not arguing about this. I need you to stay-”
“Pardon me, could you repeat that!? Have you forgotten that despite that fact we aren’t married yet we both signed as the legal guardians of both Pyon AND Yalga. Or did you want to call your barber for help?”
Hearing Salisek use her angry voice when talking about anything other than Exterminator and Federation bigotry felt like a punch in the gut.I tried to defuse the situation. That worked about as well as it did when dad tried it.
“Hun, that’s not what I mea-”
“MY-” Salisek paused when she remembered she was still carrying Pyon who was looking at her as if she yelled at him. “Oh, I’m so sorry pup just…” She shifted Pyon's position so he could bury his face into her fur to distract her. She softened her voice, but made it stern as steel. “My daughter is in an incredible amount of pain. She is scared, she is tired. I will be there. Pyon will come with, so he can see his sister being taken care of. I. Will. Be. There. For. My. Daughter. Am I clear?”
I help up my hands in defeat. “Okay. We’ll leave as soon as the family gets here.”
Saliseks voice and posture softened. “Okay. Again this time. What can I do?”
Seeing how serious she was, I realized doing this on my own was a stupid idea from the start. “Pack some snacks. I’m not getting overcharged for crappy hospital junk. And while you’re in the kitchen please grab more water for Yalga. I gotta make sure the bandaging is on well and she’s okay.”
“Okay.”
Salisek walked to the kitchen, still carrying Pyon. At times like these, I know I made the right decision marrying her.
“I love you sweetheart!” I called out.
“I love you too hun!” She called back.
I pulled the wheelchair out so Yalga could get in it. I could try and carry her, but unfortunately with her size and weight it would be better to transport her like this. Even if it’s a short distance.
“Daddy,” Yalga called.
“Yeah.”
“Are you and Mommy mad at each other?” She asked innocently. “Did I do something wrong? I heard Mom say my name.”
I knelt down to give my daughter an assuring kiss on her head. “No kiddo. We had a disagreement like all adults. It’s solved now. We still love each other.”
Despite her monotone voice, it couldn’t hide the tears building in her eyes. “Okay.”
I ignored it for the moment because she was probably gonna cry more in a moment. I opened the chair as much as it could go and gave the seat a nice solid pat.
“We’re gonna put you here, then we’re going to the Emergency Room.”
“Do I have to get up?”
“Yeah. You do. Grab my hand. We’ll go slow.”
Yalga held my hand and grasped it tight. I need to remember that she has a very strong grip. To keep her even I used my other hand to push her up from the other side so she didn’t have to do the work.
I’m so glad I go to the gym.
We slowly worked together to lift her up so she could sit straight.
“Ow, ow!”
“I know it hurts. Take your time.”
Once we got her up we had to get her into the chair. I thought about the best way to put her tail. Through the hole in the back? Would it just drag to the ground? Wait!
I went to the side of the couch where there was a thin blanket for me and Salisek when we slept here. If I can tie the blanket on the handles it can keep her tail up without squishing it. I just need to get her on first.
“Okay Princess. Let’s get up. Can you stand?”
“Y-Yeah. Um, Dad?”
Yalga awkwardly clutched her tail. “I need to use the bathroom.”
My eyes darted from the bathroom to the couch and back. “No better time to test the wheelchair.”
[Memory Transcript Time Skip: 40 Minutes]
Even though it was getting late the traffic was still a lot. Once Salisek was ready we both called our parents and they both said that traffic was heavy. With it being the last Saturday of the year, Florida residents and tourists alike were enjoying their day.
We decided to just meet at the ER. The blanket trick for Yalga’s tail worked well and it didn’t hurt too much for her to walk once she got up. However, sitting down hurt her a lot unless it was in the wheelchair. Her tail probably played a factor since it didn’t have a place to sit except on the side when dealing with regular chairs.
Once we got to the hospital I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t that packed. Because of increased tourism and parties things can get crowded this time of year. Thankfully that wasn’t the case today. I didn’t want my daughter waiting more than she had too.
When I opened the side door, Yalga was already half up just so she could get into a chair with room for her tail. I helped carry her down and rolled her through the hospital's parking lot.
Salisek was having a difficult time carrying Pyon. He was pretty nervous. “Mawmy, I don wan to gow en.”
I didn’t understand why Pyon was scared but Mawmy was able to calm him down. “It’s okay pup. This place is filled with very nice and smart people who can help your big sister.”
My daughter didn’t say much, instead she looked around the large hospital and took in all the architecture and bright lights at the front. The front and lobby areas were clean and comfortable which helped a little to ease the tensions of anyone going in with something they believe is serious.
I rolled Yalga straight to the front desk and we were greeted by the medical receptionist. “Hello, how may I help you?”
I smiled politely and spoke calmly, “Hello, I’m Carlos Rodriguez and this is my daughter Yalga. She was using a heating pad and unfortunately suffered some burns. I was able to patch her up a little, but the gels and methods we have are for humans so I want to make sure she can heal properly. I would also like a professional to look at other areas of concern dealing with her limbs and back.”
“Any pain, shortness of breath, chest pain, profuse bleeding?”
“Her back usually causes her pain and the burning made it worse.”
She gestured to my fiance and son, “Are those two with you?”
“The tall Venlil woman is Salisek, my fiance, and she’s holding our son Pyon. They came for emotional support and to assist with anything Yalga may need.”
“We’ll get you someone right away. Please wait in the lobby.”
“Thank you.”
I knew they probably wouldn’t rush us in since even though Yalga is in pain, there’s no direct threat to her life. The most they’d do is probably a tetanus shot. I suppose I’ll have to worry if Yalga reacts to needles. I’ll try to calm her down because I could tell Yalga was still tense. I rolled her to a seating area with a TV playing Tom and Jerry.
Peak Fiction
With all the stress Yalga was going through, there’s nothing like cartoon violence to ease the mood. What would also ease the mood is having the family visit which according to a message they just sent, they were already here just finding parking.
Soon everyone entered the hospital and after a quick chat with the receptionist, along with me flagging them down, they joined us in the lobby. Helen and Chalta ran to Yalga the quickest.
“Yalga, are you okay?!” Chalta asked. “We heard your back got hurt!”
Helen was about to tackle Yalga into a hug before I stopped her. “Helen, Yalga isn’t feeling well. Please be careful she’s in a lot of pain.” Helen was visibly worried but still gently gave Yalga a supportive hug.
“Get better soon please.”
Talice and Tarvik were surrounding Salisek, asking questions on how they could help.
“Mom, it’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s not fine. Your father and I are here to help so please be honest with us. We’ll help with anything you need. We’ll take Helen home soon but the moment you need anything we’ll be right there.”
“Why isn’t she seeing a doctor yet? What kind of place is this?!”
Mom went over to Salisek who was still holding Pyon. “I can take him sweetie, get some rest.”
Salisek cradled a stressed Pyon in her arms, “Do you wanna go with Grandma, little pup?”
“Gwandma.”
Salisek gently handed Pyon over to my mother who instantly knew how to calm him down. Salisek fell into the chair next to me. She was pretty exhausted and it was getting late. The stress of everything is what really made her worry. Seeing your child in pain isn’t fun. My father put a hand on each of our shoulders.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
I looked over to my daughter who was trying to watch the cartoon with her sisters but still had a hard time focusing because of the pain, as evident by her trying to adjust herself. I gave her a tap on her shoulder and mouthed “how are you feeling?”. I could only hear a little whisper, but it was enough to understand she was saying “It still hurts.”
Dad could overhear what we were trying to say and knelt down next to Yalga. “What would you like to do when we leave?”
“I’m a little hungry. Can we go eat later?”
“Of course, anything you want.”
I was grateful for my dad, that we remembered to comfort Yalga in all this. I was so new to everything, not to mention the speed at which everything was happening.
…
Where’s the doctor!
“Carlos Rodriguez,” She called just as my patience was wearing thin. “We’re ready to see you now.”
“Thank you. One moment.”
I quickly talked with my parents and in-laws about who is going home and who is staying. My mom offered to take Pyon home and to tuck him in, Salisek agreed. Talice decided to go with and made sure to bring Chalta and Helen back since they knew they might get bored or cause trouble. Tarvik and Dad were conversing for a bit about who should stay before settling on Dad since he’s more familiar with the hospital.
Salisek gave Pyon a strong nose nuzzle, “I’ll see you later, okay Pyon? Mommy will be home soon. Be good to grandma, okay?”
“Owkay Mawmy.”
“I love you.”
“I wuv yu tu.”
Helen and Chalta gave Yalga a big, but gentle, hug.
“Get better soon.”
“We’ll play lots of games together when you get back.”
Everyone quickly said their goodbyes so it was just me, Yalga, Salisek, and Dad. We followed the nurse to a room and were asked to wait until the doctor arrived. Yalga was really on edge.
“Dad, are you gonna tell Odin about me?”
“It hasn’t crossed our minds. Do you want us to call him so you can talk for a bit?”
“No thank you, I don’t want him to worry.” My daughter fidgeted with her claws in shame. She didn’t want Odin to see her hurt. The moment she’s okay, I’m planning a date for her and Odin. With chaperones of course. “Are the doctors here nice?” Yalga asked nervously.
“Of course they are, Princess. Just answer honestly and they’ll help you get better.”
They’ll help you get better… I hope.
[Memory Transcript Time Skip: 60 Minutes]
“So the spray will help heal and clean the burn so it doesn’t get sick?” Yalga asked curiously.
“That’s right,” Dr. Brown stated. “Soon we’ll give you a small shot to help protect against tetanus. It’s a very dangerous condition that can happen when you get a cut or burn. But you’re being very brave, I’ll see if we can get you a treat later. That is, if your parents are okay with it.”
“gasp Can I daddy?! Pleeeeeeease, I’ve been soooo good.”
I smiled brightly, “Of course you can.”
Dr. Brown was a huge blessing. The guy had been working with kids for a while and was great with Yalga. He was really good at relaxing her and explaining to her what was going on. He was honest and genuine. Salisek really liked him too, and even asked some questions herself. I also remembered him during my reckless years. He recognized me too.
“You’re daddy was quite the troublemaker back in his day.”
“Really?”
“Yup, when he was small he proudly came to me with a broken wrist.”
“Why would he be proud of that?”
“He got it trying to impress his crush.”
Seven-year-old me told you that in confidence.
I awkwardly looked at Salisek, but all she could do was stare and slowly smile while turning to my dad for more information.
“Do you happen to know the full story, dad?” Salisek teased.
“Well daughter, Carlos had a small crush on this girl named Jessica in the second grade and he tried to impress her by jumping off the swing set. He succeeded and flung himself so far into the air that when he landed on his wrist he needed a cast for months.”
“H-Hey! You laugh but it worked. She sat next to me at lunch and gave me her lunchables, that’s like… the pinnacle of love in second grade.”
I earned a laugh from everyone in the room, which almost made me forget that it was at my expense.
“Um, what is a lunchable?” Dr. Triva asked. She was a Zurulian working with Dr. Brown, trying to work with and understand the Arxur biology. While she was important in treating Yalga’s burn with her experience with Harchen Exterminators she would be even more important in trying to understand her condition as a whole. Zurulians have the best medical understanding compared to… pretty much everyone.
“It’s a children’s meal kit for both vegan and non-vegan foods, it’s popular for kids in school lunches.” Dr. Brown took his eyes off his colleague and gave me a sly look. “But let’s be honest, there was never any real meat in those things.”
Yalga’s interests also peaked. “Were they tasty?”
“Back in my day they were the best part of school. They were also a status symbol. Having the best lunchables meant you were the coolest kid.”
“What was the best one, Daddy?”
“Pizza.”
Of course it was pizza. It’s always pizza.
Pizza is God’s gift to the world.
Dr. Triva grabbed the syringe for the shot while Dr. Brown prepped the area. The sight of the needle made Yalga nervous.
“D-Daddy, do we have to…”
“Hey Princess, look at this.”
Yalga took her gaze off the needle and onto my phone where I showed her my favorite distraction.
[Behold Distraction]
“What is that?” Yalga asked. “I like the sounds.”
The legend Zach Choi, his legacy continued by his descendants, loved making short videos of him just cooking. This one was one of the rare ones that didn’t feature meat. Yalga was fully entranced into the process that she didn’t even react to the needle or the bandaid.
“Good job my beautiful pup!” Salisek cheered.
“Yeah… in a minute, mom.”
Dr. Brown chuckled, “I think I should start using those for nervous patients, right Dr. Triva?”
“Yeah… in a minute, Dr. Brown.”
I took my phone away before everyone forgot why they were here and we were ready to proceed. The doctors wanted to really get a look at Yalga and her condition. On the promise of peanut butter cookies and meat lovers pizza Yalga bravely went through all the X-Ray’s, bloodwork, medical history, and any other examinations they needed.
It took a while and she was starting to get frustrated with all the tests, but she persisted, and soon it was over. They allowed us to stay the night to monitor the burn area in case complications arose. So we all stayed in the hospital room, enjoying our time together as if it was a little adventure.
“Mommy look, the bed moves!”
“Pup, please don’t break it.”
Yalga went crazy when she saw how many buttons the hospital bed had, and needless to say, she was enjoying it. She kept Dad occupied with all her questions both about the hospital and about anything else her mind could think of. She was happy to be done with the tests.
“Grandpa, do you think they’ll let me see my bone pictures later?”
“Sure, but they need someone who is trained to look at them first and show them to the doctors.”
“There’s someone who knows how to look at pictures of bones?”
“Yup, they can see things we can because they’re bone smart. Do you wanna be a doctor when you grow up?”
“I dunno. Maybe I can be a doctor for bones, a bone doctor!”
It was nice seeing her happy, but Salisek and I were still worried about what they would find. What would it take to heal Yalga? Could they do it? I think so, but how long will it take? I don’t care about the financial cost, I care about the physical and mental toll it would take on Yalga. But would we have a choice?
I looked to my fiance who was rapidly tapping her foot onto the ground, impatiently waiting for the doctor to come back in and give us the news on Yalga’s condition.
“It can’t be that bad right?” she whispered. “With aid from the Zurualians they must have a way to easily fix Yalga’s condition. So what’s taking them so long?”
“They’re probably just double checking some things. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I could tell she was still stressed, so I held her hand and kissed her cheek. “Our daughter will be fine.”
Salisek tried to keep herself from crying for Yalga’s sake, but had the doctors not finally arrived she might’ve broken.
“Carlos, Salisek? You’re the parents correct?” Dr. Trivia asked. “I’ll just need to see you both very quickly to discuss some things.”
Finally ready for some answers we quickly got up, kissed our baby goodbye for now, and followed the Zurulian to a small room with Dr. Brown.
“Mr. Rodriguez and Mrs., do you prefer to be called Salisek or are you fine with adopting Mrs. Rodriguez?” The doctor politely asked.
“I’m fine with either, but I would like to get used to Mrs. Rodriguez.” I could feel her hand strengthen her grip in mine.
“Wonderful,” Dr. Brown took out a small folder that showed some of Yalga’s X-Rays, notes, and documents. “First things first, your daughter's burns should heal very soon.”
“Courtesy of Zurulian medicine and Harchen Exterminator Accidents.”
“Yes, thank you Dr. Triva. But of course this is not the only information you wanted to know about. The condition of your daughter is concerning. Not only because of the condition of her injuries, but also her condition that allows her body to grow at an exaggerated rate.”
Dr. Triva put the X-Ray slides on a projector for us to see. Seeing Yalga’s bones and how badly they were broken made my stomach turn, and my heart sink. I could hear Salisek’s gasp from how shocked she was.
It looked like a child had rearranged the right side of her body like a poorly constructed jigsaw puzzle. What made things worse was that the other side of her body looked nearly untouched meaning we could see all the damage her sperm donor did. I know how it felt to have broken a few bones as a kid. Her life would’ve been torture for me. I have know idea how she could live like that.
Why didn’t I take her here the moment we got home? How long has she been suffering like this?
“As you can see the limbs that didn’t grow as much were the ones that were injured the most. Trauma can be a factor in how limbs develop,” Dr. Triva explained. “You can see here how the bones didn’t heal correctly. Upon questioning your daughter it’s no question her back holds the most problems, but looking at her arms and legs it’s possible they’re also providing an incredible amount of discomfort and pain.”
Salisek wrapped her tail around my leg nervously. “So, what does this mean?”
“It means,” Dr. Brown continued. “That before we even think about her back we should address what’s going on in the rest of her body. If you look at her pelvic bone you can see it isn’t straight due to her walking on uneven legs for lord knows how long. So we think it would be best to first start realigning the bones as well as doing the appropriate extensions. My only concern is that her accelerated growth may cause complications, so she’ll need to visit here frequently.”
My fiance’s grip tightened as she looked deeper into the X-Rays, “I see. How long will it take for her to recover?”
“Several months, due to the severity of it. We can do the arms and legs separately, but that would be up to you. There’s a possibility it could take longer. We just can’t be certain with her growth, but we’ll have experts working round the clock on her case.”
“I-I see. But you can help her right?”
“We will do all within our power to make sure your daughter is healthy and lives a pain free life.
“Thank you… could you give us a moment. We would like to let our daughter know about it before we make arrangements.”
“Of course. Please let us know when you’re ready.”
We politely walked out of the room and turned around the corner away from where Yalga was.
“Honey?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”
I almost fell over when she pulled me in for a hug. I could barely hear her through her bleats and cry’s. “Look at what that monster did to her.”
First Previous

This is going to sound completely bizarre. I promise it's a very true story and part of something bigger that has deeply effected my life.
Before I start this is not the only thing he has done that seems like sabotage. Just the most memorable.
So, about 5 years ago my mom/sister had this psychic come over this read our fortunes. Now I don't personally believe in psychics, supernatural stuff, and ghosts, but I guess my father does. Anyway the psychic did my mom's and sister's readings in the basement. Apparently she told someone that there's was a negative energy in our basement (so spooky; like every basement isn't kind of creepy) and said we should smudge the house.
At some point within the next few years my Mom and Sister acquired a smug, which my father was really against because he felt it would stink up the house or burn the carpet (wait for irony).
Fast forward another 2-3 years and I'm graduating highschool and about to write a final the next morning at like 8am. My father randomly decides to start smudging the basement at like 11pm and making a big fuss and lots of noise. He chanted "please leave" loudly and burns the carpet as the house fills with smoke (fire alarm going off). Anyway it's like 12am, house reeks, I'm awake, annoyed, etc, but I still managed to get to bed, and I wrote the exam (luckily I did okay).
Anyway, this isn't his norm. He's conservative. Very annoyed by incense, smudges, etc to the point aside from this night would never allow them.
Tbh, keeping me up before an exam, or delaying me before a job interview, or yelling at me before something important is pretty regular occurrence in our relationship. I really feel he was deliberately trying to sabotage me.
He wasn't having a breakdown, he wasn't drunk or on drugs, and he reverted to normal right after it and carried on like nothing happened. He did try to sabotage me a few months after by attempting to prevent me from leaving home to go to university.
BTW, he fully acknowledges all this happened he just believes he was honestly trying to purge an evil spirit. He knew the next day was very important to me when all this happened as I constantly talked about it and it was a big event for me. I have a really hard time believing him because randomly? years later? Night of my final exam? He wasn't even downstairs. He was up two stories!
What do you think Reddit? Does he sound like a parent looking out for my best interest and honestly wanted to purge the evil spirits? Or was this a narcissistic parent trying to mess with their child's future? Again not a mental breakdown was fine before and after. No drugs or alcohol involved.

hello, ive got all weapons, all armor, all talismans, ashes runes, crafting mats etc
password 7894, leave a red sign, at this time it can also be yellow, but beware we will be invaded if you use yellow, its a favorite invading spot for the full bull goat double antspur rapier invaders.
location elleh
very importante that you leave your in game name.
suggested format: IGN: Blue mage W: 1 stack of lord runes and 2 scavengers curved sword
what i want: after you receive your items please reply with +karma
upvotes so more people see the post.
4 items is the cap (exception to this rule is U /CurltimusPrime, you can ask as many items as you want)
BIG no no for me: "bro i need max stacks of ....." " bro drop as many of ......as you can spare" "yo can i have all items?" "hey... do you have a spare .....?", also dont dm please unless you absolutely have to, i will try to do it as fast as possible
BIG thanks to people who help made this giveaway possible:
Cyber Mage
Mord Sith Agiel
Menopally
Mercuriun
traditional pilot876
Hlghl1

We met about 3 months ago, and started dating almost immedietly. We have no mutual friends, I have basically zero friends outside of online stuff and she is the same way. We have moved kind of quickly. Said I love you within the first few weeks, but haven't had sex yet. I'm a virgin and she isn't.
She invited me into a discord server with all her friends and all of them are weirdos. Spouting racial slurs, being edgelords, and one of them is like 22 years old.
I later learned that she and him met 5 years ago. She was 13 and he was 16. They fucking dated at one point. At one point he was 17 and she was 13. I could never imagine myself dating anyone even a year younger than me. Her best friend is a racist horrible person who's flirted with people when they were dating. She constantly says the n word despite being white as fuck and once said "I wonder how tight a newborn is". She has zero redeeming qualities and promotes cheating, dating people only for looks, and talks nonstop about dick size. My girlfriend is best friends with this scumbag???
About relationships, I've never been in a serious one. She's been in several. This is the first time she's ever actually loved someone she said.
I found out she was insanely sexual with her ex. Like, several times a day. I'm nervous to even do it once, and it's been months. She says she doesn't care and it's not that important but if it isn't why was it so important previously?
Now onto the other stuff. We don't really have anything in common. She only watches horror, I think the genre sucks ass. The only thing is dumb comedies with Adam Sandler and Seth Rogan and that's it. The only thing we like in common basically. She got bored when we tried to watch Star Wars, doesn't like any of the things I do like games or ANYTHING. I don't even know what we talk about. Basically nothing. I just try my hardest to be "entertaining" and we goof around and spend the rest of the time cuddling and stuff. I don't see us doing dumb fun stuff I would love to do, hanging out and doing stupid shit and talking about stuff like that. I know this all sounds very juvenile lol but having similar interests is important and I'm now realizing that.
She hates talking about her problems. She has eating issues and refuses to eat and I constantly stress about it. She just won't. I try to get her to and she won't. Some nights she'll be in a terrible mood and I can tell, but she just says she's fine. But I start to overthink it and assume the worst. She's always lying, I find out afterward. And I feel like shit she lied. And she just won't even try to talk about it. I don't blame her but it just doesn't work. Neither of us end up happy all night long.
And as for life? We both JUST graduated. She needs to move out of her parents house because of her horrible father and she's trying to figure out how to do that. We thought maybe she could move in with me, as I will be getting my own place (paid for by my grandparents) for college. It's not normal, but she has to get out asap and I think that can make an exception. After that? I don't know what I want to do in life. She wants to be an actress. She wants to move to another state and make a big name for herself. I just want to make ends meet and come home to someone I love.
I just don't see a future with her. Where we work. Where I'm happy. I've stopped talking to all of my friends to give her like all of my attention and it kind of sucks. I find myself enjoying talking to my friends more. We don't even call or text because we have nothing to talk about. I feel wrong saying I love you now. Feel wrong even typing it. It's not honest. We talked about it tonight and her responses only make me feel worse about it. She loves me a lot, she said I'm the love of her life, she said she kind of needs me and she has a history of self harm and suicide attempts. And I don't want her to do something. And I feel wrong leaving her. It feels so bad and wrong, all of it. I don't know what I should do.
hi dear reader, if you could please spare me a shilling of advice as for what to do
I don't know how to summarize this. You can't give an opinion with just a summary. I need some advice, maybe help from a third perspective please. I'll summarize it anyway so my post isn't deleted.
tl;dr: my girlfriend and I have nothing in common, her friends suck, we have different life goals, get into conflicts a lot recently, and now I need to make a decision before it's too late because we both graduated

I am a single mum (23F) who recently matched with a guy on Hinge (25M). We have been on quite a few dates for quite a few weeks now. Been talking maybe just over a month. On average we see each other 2-3 times a week, and we message every day (not super fast replies, but consistent). He is so lovely, I seriously cannot fault him. We haven't kissed or anything like that, but there's the odd flirty touch and compliment. He has met my son, who he is such a natural with. He is a walking green flag.
In my gut I feel like it's too good to be true. I'm so used to hurt and disappointment that I'm struggling to believe this guy would even go for me. I back myself as a person, but I just struggle to accept that there's a chance that he would want to take my son and I on as his own one day. We are both Christians, and he has even brought me along to his church and introduced me to some of his closest friends, which I loved. He has come to my yoga classes, we get coffees and do really wholesome things when we hang out. He came over the other night to play board games and it ended with him helping me unload my dishwasher, "just because". He hasn't made any physical moves on me which I appreciate, but also am just not used to (which isn't a great thing) so I think in my head I see lack of that as lack of interest. But I also don't want to initiate anything myself. I realize I am the one with the baby and things need to go at his pace which I am fully supportive of. He even got me flowers on mothers day so I "didn't not get anything".
I'm liking the pace of things, as with a baby I want to take my time and not rush into anything without being serious. But I really like him. I'm catching big feelings and I don't want to get hurt. He is overall friendly to absolutely everybody on planet Earth. I guess what I'm asking is, do we think he is wanting to be with me seriously one day? He does all of this nice stuff, and I'm ultimately wondering what to expect from here on? Will it progress? Personally, I feel chemistry. Feel dumb posting this as I write it as it seems so obvious, but I guess I just want to hear other thoughts.

Problem description & analysis

We have a STATEINFO table in the Oracle database. Below is part of the data:

STATEID	POPULATION	AREA
1	4779736	52419
2	710231	663267
3	6392017	113998
4	2915918	52897
5	37253956	163700
…	…	…

We also have a STATENAME table in the MySQL database. Below is part of the data:

STATEID	NAME	ABBR
1	Alabama	AL
2	Alaska	AK
3	Arizona	AZ
4	Arkansas	AR
5	California	CA
…	…	…

The two tables are logically associated through STATEID. We are trying to perform a cross-database query via JDBC. Below is part of the desired result:

STATEID	POPULATION	AREA	NAME	ABBR
1	4779736	52419	Alabama	AL
2	710231	663267	Alaska	AK
3	6392017	113998	Arizona	AZ
4	2915918	52897	Arkansas	AR
5	37253956	163700	California	CA
…	…	…	…	…

Solution

Write the following script p1.dfx in esProc:

Method 1: SPL

	A
1	=connect("oracle")
2	=A1.query@x("SELECT * FROM STATEINFO")
3	=connect("mysql")
4	=A3.query@x("SELECT * FROM STATENAME")
5	=join(A2:SI,STATEID;A4:SN,STATEID)
6	=A5.new(SI.STATEID,SI.POPULATION,SI.AREA,SN.NAME,SN.ABBR)

Explanation:
A1 Connect to the database named oracle.
A2 Perform SQL, return result as a table sequence, and then close database connection.
A3 Connect to the database named mysql.
A4 Perform SQL, return result as a table sequence, and then close database connection.
A5 Join A2’s table sequence and A4’s through associative field STATEID.
A6 Generate the desired result table sequence.

Method 2: Simple SQL

	A
1	=connect("mysql").cursor@x("SELECT * FROM STATENAME")
2	=connect("oracle").cursor@x("SELECT * FROM STATEINFO")
3	$select n.STATEID as STATEID,n.POPULATION as POPULATION,n.AREA as AREA,m.NAME as NAME,m.ABBR as ABBR from {A1} m join {A2} n on m.STATEID=n.STATEID

Explanation:
A1 Connect to the database named mysql, return a database cursor created from sql, and auto-close database connection when the cursor is closed.
A2 Connect to the database named oracle, return a database cursor created from sql, and auto-close database connection when the cursor is closed.
A3 Join A1’s table and A2’s table using simple SQL.
Read How to Call an SPL Script in Java to learn about the method of integrating the SPL script into Java.

Reaction to Hunter, Tiff, Venus all not playing their idols:
“Ugh, I remember when players used to play idols, how could player think they’re safe when they know that their name is out there? Haha big mistake”
Reaction to beloved Q not playing his idol:
“What the HELL is MARIA thinking??? Why wouldn’t MARIA tell him to play his idol???”
I don’t love Maria either, but the mental gymnastics people are doing to somehow twist it to be Maria’s fault instead of Q’s is crazy.
edit:
To be clear, I don’t think Maria made a good move, I agree she should have told him. I just wanted to bring up the hypocrisy that viewers are having by somehow deflecting the blame off of Q - him not playing it is just as bad (if not worse) than someone like Tiff imo.

And I'm not just a cute nerd because I'm serious and sudden onset! badum tiss
I'm also a 5'7'' sorta thin white dude with long black hair, and I think that's kinda neat. I'm big into PC gaming, not that you have to be, but if you are, it's something that I'd love to do together! My interests also extend to things like Pokemon, anime, a couple books (Kingkiller Chronicles is GREAT), and I have a peace lily named Alphinaud! I am quite introverted, so I've always found it hard to make friends, even over the internet. Still, I have a lot of love to give, storing it all inside this rock I've been living under, and just looking for the right person to give it all to.
The kind of person I'm looking for is mostly just someone that genuinely enjoys my company. I want someone that will laugh at all of my stupid jokes, or at least the funny ones. Body type isn't super important to me either, bodybuilder, BBW, or anything in between, its always been more about the person inside, to me. I want someone super affectionate, caring, and gentle with me. Someone who can take the lead, too! I once spent five minutes in the breakfast aisle paralyzed about what cereal to get. I want someone I can fall in love with, to say "good morning" and "good night" to every day, someone I am excited to wake up and see next to me, give me that fairy tale love that everyone craves but few people find!
• Could be talked into DMing for you and your friends
• I still have not seen the Lord of the Rings movies
• I am absolutely full of dumb, awful jokes
• Once, I built a forge out of an old bbq grill and give hobby blacksmithing a try!
• I know how to solve a rubik's cube! Not particularly fast, mind you, but I can!
So yeah, I guess that's it? If any of this has interested you, any of it at all, don't hesitate to drop me a message or PM! I'm happy to move to discord whenever, and I'm also okay with exchanging pics once we've chatted a little. Thanks for reading, and have a great evening!