I have a form of scoliosis and my shoulders are uneven. I have borderline severe tendinitis and bone spurs in my right shoulder.
I am in the market for a new chair since I moved recently. Currently using my lazy boy recliner as my make shift desk chair. Having the leg rest has been pretty nice. Biggest problem is the desk is a bit too high and causing my tendinitis to flare up something fierce.
What chairs do you have that are comfortable, arm rests and $150 and under?

So, this has been going on for a while now. I met this amazing girl back in August of 2023 in a university club. I didn’t realized I had feelings for her until late October and I ended up asking her out in December once I was able to build up my courage. She enthusiastically agreed to go out and our first date was super fun. We went to the bowling alley where she destroyed me in every arcade game but I got a new pb in bowling that day.
Afterwards we went and ate at a restaurant that was coincidentally both our favorite restaurant. We talked there until the restaurant had to close, I offered to teach her to oil paint, she assumed that I meant right then and there at my place but I said it was getting a little late and we should probably call it a night. She looked a little bummed I won’t like, but I told her we could paint next time.
So we did exactly that, our next date was on our campus, I had baked us some cookies and made us some hot cocoa from scratch. We painted for a long time, hers was a lot better than mine… but we had a great time. Then the time came to end the night and she told me she had a wonderful time and thought I was an amazing guy but said something like “I thought about it over the break, and I don’t think I can date right now, but I would love to still be your friend” I took it as best as I could and told her it was ok and we both headed home.
She sent me a text as soon as I got home saying how she couldn’t get the right words out then in person so she wanted to clarify some things. She said “I’m just not interested in dating anyone right now, period.” This really baffled me at the time and it made me feel like I was the issue.
In the past, I’ve been lead on by someone so they could use me for emotional comfort. This girl and I actually talked about our past relationships on our first date. I learned that she had 2 exes but I wasn’t aware at the time at how recently she had broken up with her ex. But her and I bonded over being manipulated by our past partners and talking about our ideal relationship.
Anyways, I truly do enjoy her as a friend. So I wanted to respect her wishes and I didn’t ask her out again. The most I did was during Valentine’s Day I carved her a little charm to take with her on a long trip for one of her other clubs. She loved it a lot, I planned on just giving it to her and leaving but every time I tried to get up she’d insist we keep talking, so we did for a few more hours until she had to go to a meeting.
My feelings got the better of me and I sent her a long text describing how much I respected her and felt like maybe I was the issue to why things didn’t work out. I really regret sending this, but she was very respectful and replied with her saying that it absolutely wasn’t my fault and it’s something with her that she did not go into detail with.
Fast foward a bit, here we are in summer. We’ve only grown closer and she’s told me more about her exes over time. I never prodded her for this info, it usually just naturally came up in conversation. Turns out she broke up with her ex only a few months before we went out for the first time. This was because he was extremely awkward with her family and really wanted nothing to do with them. He embarrassed her in front of her whole family and we was absolutely way too attached to her.
Now, we have been hanging out together every week. We would normally hang out with other members of our club but now its just her and I. She comes over and brings me ingredients to cook with and I cook for the both of us. Afterwards we relax on the couch and watch some shows together. We get really close, the tension is really thick but I don't want to accidentally read the wrong signals and make a move.
The last time she was over was last Saturday. My dog jumped up between us on the couch as we were watching JoJo. I wrapped my arm around my dog but as I was doing so i nearly wrapped my arm around her too, it felt so natural but I realized what I was doing and I readjusted my arm so it was just around my dog. Later we end up leaning against each other's shoulders, I REALLY wanted to wrap my arm around her or just straight up ask her if it was ok if I held her but I just don't know.
Also, last time she came over, she surprised me with cheesecake that she had baked herself. She made little mini cakes for my entire household. She teased she was making them beforehand but I had no idea they were for me and my family.
There are plenty of other scenarios where the tension between us has been high, but I've already been kinda ranting so I don't want to go into the nitty gritty. I will edit the post if there's need for the smaller things.
Something I have forgotten to mention is that we have a lot of mutual friends in our club, as a matter of fact I am the new President of the club and she is the Vice President. Whenever we hang out with just us two, we don't really tell our other friends about it. Nobody in our close friend group of the club knows we went out before or that we hang out often now. I'm not sure if I should take anything from this, I know she tells her parents and some of her friends about me. I remember going to her house for the first time to help her unload some things along with a few other of the club members and she introduced everyone to her mom and when she got to me she said "You already know this guy" even though I have not met her mother before.
I could just be completely delusional, maybe she's not dropping any hints. If thats the case I am perfectly content with her and I hanging out, the last thing I want is to lose such a great friend I've made. I don't want her to feel pressured into dating again, the real reason as to why she isn't interested in dating frankly isn't my business. I can narrow it down to a few things all of which are pretty understandable. Such as her working 2 jobs while being in like 3 clubs and having to deal with school on top of that. I am just really grateful she's here.
So TL;DR, Girl I went out with a few months ago said she wasn't interested in dating, we hang out a lot more now and I feel like I should make a move to see if that's changed or not but I don't know how to.

I'm not done with {King's Rising by C.S. Pacat} yet, but I can't stop thinking about this.
When Laurent is in the cell with Govart and Gion, I'm really confused about how he managed to pick up the chair with his right arm. The shoulder was dislocated and he'd been stabbed there. He managed to knockout Govart, and slip past Gion who just did...nothing?
Am I missing something or had the author hit a dead wall? That whole little piece was weird and seemed... rushed? I read it like three times...still don't see how that was physically possible for Laurent. :/

(PART 1) https://www.reddit.com/fantasybooking/s/TFDKfdWs5m
Road To Over The Edge
The night after Backlash, Vince McMahon demanded to know the whereabouts of Stephanie. The Undertaker was absent from the show, but The Jackyl assured Vince that she was safe in the arms of the Lord of Darkness. The Jackyl challenged Vince to meet him in the parking lot and beat the answers out of him if he really wanted to know. Vince stormed to the parking lot, only to be jumped by Mideon. Vince would easily fight him off, but was nearly run down by the ominous hearse at full speed that had crept in arena parking lots for months.
Shane McMahon began to forcefully insert himself as the leader of The Corporation and it started with The Rock. After failing to take back the WWF Championship from Stone Cold at Backlash, Shane fired The Rock from The Corporation and cemented it with a slap to the face. A Rock Bottom to Shane was interjected by Triple H, Chyna, Big Boss Man, and The Mean Street Posse, who put a beat down on The Rock. On the pilot episode of SmackDown! Shane completely usurped control from Vince McMahon over The Corporation and kicked him along with his stooges, Pat Patterson, Gerald Briscoe, and Sgt. Slaughter out of the group.
His reason? Vince lost focus. Shane stated that Vince only cared about Stephanie instead of the bigger picture which was The Ministry. Shane was also disgusted that Vince not only became so accepting of a reject like Mankind, but that he seemed to have more of a bond with Mankind than his own son. Big Show, Ken Shamrock, and Test refused to side with Shane and willingly departed The Corporation to stand by Vince’s side. Shane promised that under his leadership and vision, The Corporation would succeed in erasing The Ministry where Vince failed.
The pilot SmackDown! concluded with the Black Wedding. Shane was hesitant to interfere and stop the wedding out of fear that it could be a set up. Former Corporation members, Ken Shamrock and Big Show attempted to put a wrench in the plans for the wedding, but both were taken out by the Deadman with a baseball bat. Finally, Stone Cold Steve Austin would emerge and crash the wedding, managing to fight off most of The Ministry, whilst also saving Stephanie.
Vince would go on to form The Union that was comprised of Mankind, Ken Shamrock, Big Show, and Test. The Rock stepped in as an ally and unofficial member of The Union to assist in bringing down The Ministry as well as sticking it to The Corporation for his unceremonious removal a few months prior. Stone Cold vs Undertaker for the WWF Championship, Rock vs HHH, and a Triple Threat Elimination tag team match pitting the Mideon and Viscera, Mankind and Big Show, and Boss Man and Shane were the 3 big matches going into Over The Edge. Though Stephanie had been rescued from her horrific situation, her demeanor underwent a transformation in the weeks leading up to the PPV, seeming to constantly be in a zoned out state of shock.
Over The Edge
● Mideon and Viscera def. Mankind and Big Show and Shane McMahon and Big Boss Man in a Triple Threat Elimination Tag Team match
Big Show and Mankind were surprisingly the first team eliminated after The Ministry and The Corporation formed a brief alliance to work against them. The commentators were surprised to see Shane forming an alliance of any kind with The Ministry after all they’d done the last few months, but Shane’s hatred for Mankind, feeling Vince favored him more, would always cause him to act irrationally.
Boss Man and Shane seemed to be on their way to scoring a win over Mideon and Viscera after Chyna had attacked Mideon with the ring bell, while the referee was distracted, but The Brood and The Acolytes would soon get involved. With chaos fraying the referee’s attention on the match, Gangrel would spit blood in Shane’s eyes, allowing The Ministry to take the win after a double Chokeslam on Shane.
● The Rock def. Triple H via DQ after interference from Chyna
● The Undertaker w/Paul Bearer def. Stone Cold Steve Austin to win the WWF Championship
While the first few minutes of the match started off hard hitting, it didn’t take long for interferences to come into play. Just as Austin hit a Stunner on Taker, Shane McMahon ran down and attacked the ref to stop the pin. Shane’s delusional intention was for Undertaker to win the title, so that a member of The Corporation could beat him for the title and stop The Ministry. Shane would grab a steel chair and waffle Austin in the head with it. Vince would run down and tackle Shane, which led to Union and Corporation members running out and brawling to the back.
Moments later, Stephanie McMahon came walking towards the ring with a box in her hand, similar to the one that contained her teddy bear months earlier. She entered the ring and opened the box that was revealed to contain…..the urn! As Austin and Taker rose to their feet simultaneously, Stephanie glanced at the urn and then both men, before bashing Austin in the head with the urn.
Undertaker would capitalize with a Tombstone Piledriver, while Paul Bearer revived the referee to make the 3 count pin. The fans and commentators were stunned at what they were witnessing. A seemingly entranced Stephanie dropped to one knee and took an Undertaker style bow before the urn as Bearer rose it up and fire exploded from the turnbuckles. Stephanie McMahon was now property of The Ministry of Darkness!

i'm working on a novel and would like to know if anyone could tell me any improvements i could make to the first chapter and prologue
Prologue
The day had started the same way it had for the past two years. The only difference was that I was going home. The hallway was crowded with people walking to and from their classes. Everyone was crowded next to each other so the halls were making the area feel claustrophobic. All the people talking mixed with the summer heat made me feel like I was locked in a sauna. I walked with Preston to the last class we would ever have together and as usual he was smiling. I never got why he always smiled even in situations where people should be sad he still smiled. He knew what today meant for me and he tried to keep light of the situation. I kept my head down away from what was ahead of me. My mind was too clouded about returning to see my family to notice anything in front of me. I walked into another student. It felt like I had walked into a wall. I knew immediately I had walked into tree. I stumble onto the ground and the commotion around me slows down to make room for us. He turned his bulky body around and apologized profusely without saying a word even though I had walked into him. He helped me off of the ground before hurrying down the hall.
“Alexandria, are you doing okay?” Preston said he had tilted his body downward so I had to look down to look him in his eyes. The way he was standing made him look like an idiot but he didn't seem to care. The way he acted made me laugh, which caused his smile to widen.
“I'm doing fine, just got lost in my head.”
“Thinking about how you’ll leave soon,” he said
“Was it that obvious?” He was the only person I told about me being an exchange student. I came to spend high school in Newkinawa and he was the only person I ever hung out with.
“I see what you mean,” he said “Newkinawa is a beautiful place with beautiful people to live in it…myself included”
“You wish,” I say with a smile we continue walking through the hallway “I'm just not excited to go back yet”
After I say that his smile grows wider “So you will miss me after all”
“I wouldn't say that much” I responded whilst smiling.
We had made it to our last class only to see it closed with a sign labeled “Uma incident” Uma was a student known for messing with the chemistry lab and destroying school property in the process. I've never actually met her but Preston says “She's a little weird but still nice”
“Guess class is canceled for today,” Preston remarked with a smile “Wanna go out to the court till the bell rings.”
“Sure let's go” I respond
The place we ate every day was outside. It used to be a tennis court before I moved in. Now they put trees and flowers all over the place. Preston really liked the blue color of the flowers but it just never clicked for me. I look over at Preston and he's staring up at the sky. There are a number of clouds in almost enough to block the sun but it still pokes its rays through and lands on Preston's face. The clouds swim in front of the sun till they block out the sun's light. Preston faces towards me.
“I'm gonna miss you Alexandria” he says
“You know you can just call me Alex,” I replied. I start to smile again. “I'll miss you too!" He smiles toward me again as we get up to leave as the clouds start to clump together and rain slowly falls. As we're walking back to the school there's a loud tearing sound followed by screams as the ground shakes.
The ground tears itself apart as the dirt and stone erupt from the ground. The sky blackens and a pale blue light escapes the earth. Then creatures erupt from the ground in a violent ejection from the earth creating a white pillar diffusing as they reach higher in the air. Some are clawing their way out of the cracks like maggots out of a corpse. People are swept into the updraft screaming for their lives.
The creatures descend like a tidal wave and tear apart any people caught in their path. They storm out of the crack in hundreds as more cracks in the earth form. Me and Preston started running away as people were screaming behind us. A girl running next to us has her legs slashed by a creature. The monster begins to tear open her chest as she chokes on her own blood. The monster shovels her lungs and innards into its decrepit mouth. Me and Preston keep running until we're met at the entrance of the school and we catch the attention of a monster as it begins to savagely rush toward us. The monster resembles ghosts my father told me about. But this one looks monstrously horrific. It floats in the air and opens its mouth so wide it nearly replaces its entire torso; its jaws hold savage teeth each the same old gray color of its body. Its eyes glow a rotten yellow color through the dark. It stretches out its arms showing its giant hands and claws like fingers. It swipes at us leaving a giant claw mark on the door behind us but Preston ducks my body down to avoid the attack. We run around it as the monster swaps its focus to another bystander. Screaming past us. Me and Preston run into the parking lot as people scream around us. We hide next to a car.
“What the hell is happening!?” I yell to Preston. More of the creatures fly over us and swoop down to people like vultures on roadkill devouring the fleeing people.
Preston starts to breathe heavily ”we need to get out of here and someplace safer”. As we were talking one of the monster phases through the car we were hiding next to forcing us to run into the street.
“Lets go to your house till things cool down” i say to Preston through panted breaths
“Wait couldn't we head to your house instead” Preston says.
“Why would that matter your house is closer anyways” i respond
“But-” Preston is interrupted by two creatures swooping above us to grab another person. The two monsters begin to pull the person apart while he writhes in pain before having his flesh be torn in half and having his organs be devoured.
“Come on lets go!!” I say as I grab his hand and run even faster.
By the time we reach Preston's house any living person is gone. On the street are just corpses laying torn and mutilated on the roads and sidewalk. The air in the neighborhood feels cold despite the season being summer. When I walk down the street I can still hear the occasional horrific wail the monsters give off. We move closer to Preston's house and I can see him sweating. He looked more worried than before when the creatures were chasing us and he kept darting his eyes away from his home.
“Preston, are you feeling okay?” he doesn't respond to my question and keeps darting his eyes. He walks slowly behind me and as I reach for the door handle and when I touch it it feels nearly freezing. I wrap my hoodie around my hand and slowly open the door. The house is quiet so me and Preston creep further into his house. The inside is cold and damp as if we were locked in a freezer. The further we move into the house the louder a subtle chewing sound is heard.
“It sounds like rats are eating a dead cow over there” I whisper. Preston continues to stay silent behind me. We slowly walk closer towards the kitchen and the sound gets louder and louder and louder until we reach the room.
We're met with a rancid smell of vomit and blood. My blood starts to run cold and every instinct in my body is telling me to run. I can feel Preston breathing get heavier as we get closer. We turn the corner and see Preston's mom lying on the ground dead with one of the creatures hunched over slurping her intestines. The sight causes me to vomit alerting the monster to our presence. The creature turns around and its mouth turns into a mortifying grin as it flies into Preston's moms body. The corpse begins to rise and spur splashing blood over the kitchen. When the corpse stops spasming it picks itself up from the ground and with glazed over eyes it holds its intestines in its hand and gives us the same grin it did when it was outside her body. The possessed corpse lunges at me and starts to chase me around the kitchen. The body is running into the walls and cabinets spraying its blood and other loose organs around the area as I'm avoiding its assault. The corpse leans over and ejects one of its loose intestines towards me, wrapping me in it. It pulls me towards it so fast I'm flung towards the ground. The corpse limbers over to me and raises its free hand aiming for my head. The creature's deranged smile causes the corpse’s cheeks to tear apart. It places both of its bloodied and demented hands on my face and starts to press my skull into the ground. I struggle to breathe. The room starts to get dark and blood escapes my head.
Until Preston jumps on top of his mothers corpse with a kitchen knife and repeatedly stabs it in the head. The possessed body tries to shake him off but he keeps stabbing, blood gets in on his face and tears start to escape his eyes. The creature violently ejects from the corpse's mouth causing her head to nearly explode and Preston stops stabbing the body. The body falls over in a splash of blood and organs. The monster leaves phasing through the roof leaving Preston crying over his mother's body. As the blood mixes with the tears he collapses to his knees crying. I walk over and hug him as the air around us turns bitter and the chill of death leaves the room and us with it.
Chapter 1 Eclipse
It's been 2 months since the apocalypse started. We've kept ourselves alive by looting grocery stores and houses, we hide from the creatures as we have no way to fight back against them. Preston came up with the idea to call them glanter’s. He’s looking better since we left his family home but I can tell something is wrong with him that he's not telling me. Everytime I ask him about it he tells me it's no big deal. I asked him earlier today and he just told me
“don't worry about it, I'm over it” without even looking at me. Now we're walking through the street and I'm walking behind Preston, I can barely see his head past the giant bag we're both carrying on our backs we use to carry supplies. I look up at the sky and it's still pitch black except for the moon giving us any amount of light. Preston turns around to face me.
“Let's check out that house, it might have some cool stuff in it” he points to a white house to our right. The house is a two story building with steps leading to the front door. There's a generator poking out from the backyard. The driveway is empty save for a couple of dried blood stains and tire marks. It's similar to the other houses in the neighborhood except for a couple broken windows.
“Sure why not” We head over to the house and I see something shining on the side of the house in the corner of my eye. I turn my head to look at it closer but it quickly disappears before I can see it clearly.
“Probably squirrel or something” I mumble to myself. Preston walks up the stairs to the house and I walk up the steps behind him as a breeze blows past my face. Preston tries to turn the door knob but the door is locked. I start to pull out a lockpick I grabbed at the store earlier. I motion towards Preston to move out of the way as I kneel down to pick the lock. It takes me a couple of minutes to unlock the door so I walk inside the house and Preston follows behind me while closing and locking the door. The doorway of the house leads to a dark room so I take a flashlight out of my bag to illuminate the area. Were put into the living room and bookshelves are on the walls and a large TV sat in front of a large black couch with smaller chairs surrounding it. Dust is covering every surface of the room and spiderwebs litter the corners of the walls. The area smells like moth balls and there's a lack of blood anywhere nearby.
“Guess the owners got out before the Glanter’s got in, '' I say to Preston. When he doesn't respond I turn around and he's already looking further into the house. When I find him he's managed to find a flight of stairs that lead to a lower portion of the house.
“I'll check on him later,” I think to myself as I headed towards the kitchen to see if we could restock on food. I walk past a bedroom and remark on how childish it looked. The walls were painted with blue and green stripes and a bunk bed sat on the right wall. There's a chest at the foot of the bed so I walk over and lift the top off of it. The box is layered with children's toys, a multitude of dolls, bears, and figures all jut out of the box. I notice a small robot toy and inspect it in my hands.
The cold metal makes my hand shiver and the sharp body shape makes the robot bigger than my hand. There's red lining around the robot's buttons surrounded by the cold gray of the robot's “skin”. It reminds me of a toy my little brother had. My heart feels heavy as I worry about what happened to my family. If they're alive, dead, or worse…possessed. The thoughts send a chill down my spine but I push them aside for now. I put the toy in my bag and exit the bedroom.
I can see the kitchen is down the hallway so I walk down the hall and enter. The kitchen is pretty clean except for a couple of dishes in the sink and the dust. There's a table seated for 3 people in the center of the room. I start opening the cabinets in search for any food or water. There's boxes of cereal leftover on top of shelves and a mix of chip bags and cookies in neat boxes stationed in the cabinets.
“Score,” I say to myself as I begin to put the snacks into my bag. When the cabinets are empty I look inside the fridge. The inside of the fridge ran out of power so most of the food inside is rotted. There are a couple of bottles of water in the front so I shove those in my bag. There's also a bag of oranges that still seem to be healthy in the back. I grab them and toss them on the table. There's rotten sandwich meat hidden in the drawer of the fridge.it smells like a dumpster outside of a butcher shop. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. I look around the kitchen for any bread with no luck.
I continue to look through the fridge until I hear Preston scream from another room. Immediately I bolt out of the kitchen leaving my bag behind and run towards the lower part of the house. I run down the stairs and nearly trip on the steps. The stairs lead to a big room. There are posters to tv shows and movies I don't recognize. The walls are painted black and there's a bear skin rug on the floor. I notice Preston standing next to a really big TV hyperventilating. I walk over to him and ask him.
“Are you ok? What happened?”
He talks through deep breaths “I… saw a… spider.”
“What?!” I respond in confusion.
“It was really big and I had jumped at my face”
“Sure it was.” I say while laughing “Let's go upstairs there's some food in the fridge we can eat”
“Wait, I think you should check this out.” He says while pointing towards one of the walls. I grab Preston's flashlight off the floor and face it towards the wall. Hanging halfway off the wall is a large map labeled Newkiwana scavenger hunt of 76.
“I think we should take it,” Preston says “You can read a map right?”
“A little but I'm not the best at it,” I say to him “can you read a map?”
“it shouldn’t be too hard it’s mainly pictures any way I'm sure I can figure it out”
I walk over to the wall where the map is hung there are trophies covering tables and shelved in their own personal cases one of them reads “1st place 100-meter swimming competition for 1986 Zack Hemmingway” and another one reads “2nd place 100-meter swimming competition for 1989 Zack Hemmingway”
“Guess this guy really liked swimming,” Preston remarks while staring at a wall of newspaper clippings. All of them are about the same person in swimming competitions. All labeled different things like “a new record for Zack “the dolphin” Hemmingway”,
‘Zach Hemmingway our star plans for the future” all the newspapers are about this kind he has paler skin and a bulky enough build to swim pretty well. Most of the pictures have him coming out of the water in a pool, his long black hair soaked and sitting at his shoulders. Another one has him sitting at a desk over a pile of books and his hair in a knot , “vicious wipeout ends the Dolphins career”, and “ex-swim champ Zack Hemmingway found in a drunken stupor outside strip club.
“Everyone has their own hobbies I guess,” I say as I take the map off of the wall and fold it up. “Sucks what happened to Zack though” I walked over to Preston’s bag and put the rolled map in one of the pockets. I walk back up the stairs and Preston grabs his bag and follows behind me.
We make our way towards the kitchen and Preston starts looking through the fridge for anything to eat. I grab an orange from the table and throw it at his head. The fruit bounces off his head and rolls on the floor. He turns around and grabs the fruit from the floor
“Why did you throw an orange at me?”
“It's the only food we have unless you plan on eating spoiled a sandwich“ He starts to peel it while walking towards the table. We both take a seat and start to eat the oranges from the bag. He plants his feet on top of the table and bites into the fully peeled orange. I grab a water bottle from a bag and start to drink from it as Preston says.
“I saw a dvd player in that man cave downstairs we could watch a movie if it still has power”
“Sure it could be fun.” Me and Preston spend the rest of our time eating until the bag of oranges is emptied and we head back downstairs. Preston grabs the DVD player from under the table and blows the dust off the top of it; he plugs it into the wall as I plop myself onto the couch. He plugs the DVD player into the TV and sits on the recliner next to me. He presses a few buttons on the remote and the TV lights up. I squint my eyes at how bright it is. It's the most amount of light I've seen that didn't come from a flashlight. I notice there's a box filled with DVDs. I pull the box over towards me. I ruffle through the box and see movies like Silence of the Lambs, Terminator 2, and Home alone.
“Dude some of these came out just before the world turned inside out” I say to him.
“Really? Let's play one.” He responds. I toss him Terminator 2 and he puts it into the DVD player.
We spend the next couple hours watching movies and laughing together. It's some of our only moments of peace we’ve had since the end of the world and to me it's the most fun I've had yet. We're putting in the next DVD when there's a loud crash outside and the TV shuts off. Preston goes behind it to see if it's still plugged in.
“I think the generator outside is busted” i say
“It seems that way” Preston replies while backing away from the tv” i'm gonna go check it out”
“Don't worry I got it” I say as I hop out of my chair. Preston waves goodbye as I head up the stairs. I make my way back through the hallway leading to the living room and front door. I reach the door and start to turn the knob. I open the door wide as a car speeds down the street. I step out of the door to see what had happened when I hear the screech of a glanter. It cuts through the sky like an unholy opera singer. A group of them fly by and chase the car as I rush back inside the house. I slam the door shut and look through the window as I see a couple of smaller glanters grab and shake the car violently looking for the driver. They tear at it, ripping off doors and breaking the windows. The driver screams as the seats cover with blood and he's ripped out of the car as multiple smaller glanters tear and bite off parts of his body like piranha's until his body is completely devoured. I run back to the man cave to warn Preston about what had happened. I spot him laying in his chair spinning a DVD disc on his finger.
“It's not safe outside right now”
“Why not?
“There's glanter's outside, they just ate a dude in his car”
“Did they see you come inside?”
“I don't think so , they flew off before I went inside.”
“well we're not dead so I'm gonna say they didn't see you. But let's stay here for a couple more hours just to be safe”
“Sounds good i'm gonna go find the master bedroom.” I start to walk back up the stairs to the house
“ Hold on why do you get the master bedroom” Preston says while walking after me.
“Because I'm gonna find it first” I say as I start to run to find the bedroom. He chases after me in pursuit of the bedroom. Me and Preston run around the house looking for the master bedroom. We look through room after room finding closets, the garage, a bathroom and a door leading to a balcony in the back of the house. I manage to run into the bedroom and yell out to Preston.``Found it!!”
He comes walking into the room breathing heavily from the running. We both check out the room. The walls are painted a cream yellow and the bed takes up most of the room's center. The bed has burgundy sheets poking out from its bottom and a quilt with multi-colored floral designs lay sprawled out on top of it. There's a wardrobe built into the wall and a black leather couch sits comfortably on the left wall.
“Dibs on the bed” I say as I jump on top of it. I stretch out on top of the quilt and search for a comfortable part to sleep in.
“Where am I supposed to sleep then?” Preston complains
“You can sleep on the couch it looks soft enough” I respond while pointing towards the couch “I saw some spare blankets in one of the closets”
“Alright i’ll be right back” he mumbles to himself “why do i always get the couch”
“ I'll be right here if you need me,” i call after him. I sit up on the bed and start to look around the room more. I notice the entrance to the wardrobe is cracked open slightly. I hop out of the bed and grab a flashlight from my bag as I walk into the wardrobe. I turn on my flashlight and stare in awe at how many clothes are in there. The room is only half as big as the bedroom but it's still bigger than any closet I've ever had. The wardrobe is full of shirts, dresses, pants, and shoes for men and women. I immediately start to look through the shoes to see if any fit my size. I throw a pair of black high heels behind me as Preston finds me in the wardrobe. He looks around before asking me.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding a new pair of clothes to wear cause I've been wearing the same pair of jeans for waaaaay too long”
“Fair enough. Is there any guy stuff in there?”
“Yeah right there” I hook my thumb behind me to point to the other end of the closet.
“I'm sure they won't mind if we take a couple of things…they're probably dead by now anyways,” Preston says with a slight grin on his face. The way he said made me spin my head to look at him but he was already on the opposite end of the wardrobe looking at suits.
I shake away the thought and continue looking for any pair of sneakers in my size. 40 minutes pass before I walk out of the wardrobe holding a new pair of jeans and a black guns-N-roses t-shirt. I toss the clothes on top of the bed and check to see if the shower in the bathroom still works. I turn the dial and wait for a moment. The shower head chokes a little before water comes pouring out. I reach my hand under the showerhead to feel the water. The water is cold, it causes my hand to shiver when I take it out. I shake the water off and say to myself.
“Good enough” as I start to take off my old clothes and get in the shower. The cold water bounces off my skin, it sends shivers down my spine but I still get the old dirt from the last few months off of me. I step out and see a couple of dry towels hanging off of the door. I grab one and dry my body off and grab another to wrap around my head and dry my hair. I step out of the bathroom and Preston is still inside the wardrobe. I put on my new clothes while his back is turned and walk over towards him when I'm finished.
“Still haven't found anything,” I ask him
He turns around “Nothing yet, the only thing interesting was this coat.” He holds a leather coat up to me. The coat is made of black leather and has a skull covered with blue flames on the back. There's a black shirt inside the coat with a skeleton hand making a thumbs-up embroidered on the front.
“ That's pretty cool, it's better than what you're wearing right now at least” he's outfitted in a blue hoodie with holes on the chest and tears at the sleeves. He also has a shirt with a faded picture of a blue flower printed on it.
“I guess you're right” he gets up from the floor and exits the wardrobe. He lays the clothes on the couch along next to the blanket and pillow he brought into the room.
“The shower works so you can get yourself clean In there,” I say to him
“You know, a shower sounds really good right now.” He gets up from the floor and grabs a pair of pajama pants that were laying next to him. He leaves the wardrobe and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him. After a moment the water turns on and I hop on the bed to get ready to sleep. I squirm myself into the quilt and rest my head against one of the pillows. I shut my eyes and fall asleep listening to the passive sound of the shower like rain on a car.
I'm in a void. It feels like I'm standing in a puddle of water that reaches to my knees. I wade my way forward looking around for anything in the darkness. In the distance I can see 3 figures l. I moved closer to them and their silhouettes get clearer. I realize they are my dad and brothers. I start to run towards them kicking up water behind me until something grabs my leg. It pulls down violently forcing me under the water without a breath of air. I kick at the thing grabbing me until something grabs my other leg. I look down and see two glanter's each with a monstrous smile on their faces. They stare back at me and one of them tugs my leg harder than before and tears it off of my body. The water around me turns red as the glanter laugh's. The other smiles wider as it starts to fling me around the water forcing any air left in my lungs to be forced out as I scream in pain. The glanter throws me away and I can see my family slowly fade into the distance as I'm flown away.
I struggle to swim back to where I was, one of my legs is missing and the other is broken. The glanter's find me again and I try to get to the surface to escape them. I'm flapping my arms in any attempt to escape as one of the glanter's flies in front of me and grabs my arm. I look at the monster with tears in my eyes as it bites my arm and tears my body away from it. It flings my body away and with my remaining arm I clutch the wound as the water floods into my body leaving me in the void I started in. I look around and the glanter's seem to have left. I turn behind me and see my family again, this time I'm closer than before.
I grit my teeth and drag my body towards them slowly as I leave a trail of blood and tears behind me. I finally reach my family and grab one of my father's shoes. I stare up and he looks at me. His stare causes me to feel cold as a grotesque smile grows on his face. I stare in shock as my brothers each have the same look as my father.
I shoot up from my sleep panting heavily in a cold sweat.
“It was just a dream..just a dream…just a dream” I look at my hands as tears fall into them. I look around the room and see Preston sleeping peacefully on the couch. The room feels frozen in place as a chill runs down my spine. I get out of the bed and walk out of the bedroom. I make my way through the dark hallway and find the entrance to the balcony I saw earlier. I creak open the screen door and head outside. The Balcony is pretty large, about the size of the kitchen in the house. There are some chairs knocked over next to a table and I pick one up to sit on it. I look out into the expanse of the neighborhood, houses lined up next to each other, dozens broken apart by roads, and dead bodies scattered across the roads.
I look up in the sky and sit back in the chair. The sky looks empty except for the moon giving this world its only source of light. Without the moon, we’d be left in darkness. It hangs in the sky alone, no stars, no clouds, nothing but itself, and the void of the sky. I think back about the dream I had. My dad and my brother's all dead and possessed and then they kill me. I start to tear up thinking about it. I try to wipe away the tears but it’s no use. I'm too scared for my family. I don't know where they are if they're alive if they're worried about me I don't know anything! I start to quietly cry into my hands. I don't know how long I'm sitting there until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to face it and I see Preston. He was smiling and looking at me. I turn away to wipe my tears and he walks next to me.
“I heard you sneaking out of the bedroom so I followed you to see where you were going.” he says “but that's not my question.” he pauses and looks at me “my question is what’s got you feeling so down?” he leans over the railing of the balcony
“It's nothing, I just came out here to clear my head.” I say as more tears escape from my eyes in big slow drops that ride down the sides of my face.
“if you don't feel like telling me you don't have to but i'll be here if you ever change your mind”. He looks up at the moon before turning to face me and his smile widens “I'll always be here with you…trust me I'm not going anywhere”
I stare up at him and wipe away my tears as a smile grows on my face to match his. I get up and stare over the balcony with him. “So where are we heading next?” I say to him, Preston pulls the map we got from the man cave downstairs out from his pocket.
“After I got out of the shower I decided to take a look at the map for anything interesting we could see.”
“Ok did you find anything?” i ask
“I did,” he points at a spot on the right of the map. “We should head to the museum”
“I didn't want to go to a museum before the apocalypse why would i want to go now?'' I ask him.
“Well the best part of museums is the cool stuff right”
“Yeah what about it”
“The only problem is that you could only look at the fossils and armor but you could never take them.”
“So you want to rob a museum?” Prestons eyes light up at the question
“Exactly they might have a really cool sword I could use, or I could sharpen a dinosaur tooth and use that as a weapon, there might be a cursed shield that can summon the dead to fight for you. This opportunity is too good to pass up. We need to go!”
“That does seem pretty cool but wouldn't carrying that stuff weigh us down. What if a glanter is chasing us and we can't run fast enough because of the stuff we took from the museum.”
“We’ll only take things that are light. Even then I could just block the glanter with my newly acquired 2000 year old shield.”
“Fair enough we can go in a couple hours” I yawn and stretch out my arms. “Cause I'm feeling way too tired to walk all the way over there right now.”
“Alright i'm heading back to my couch and THEN we’ll head out to the museum” he leaves the balcony and heads back to the master bedroom leaving me alone on the balcony.
“Thanks Preston I'm not leaving either” I say into the sky. I turn around and walk back inside the house, closing the balcony door behind me. I walk back into the bedroom and Preston is hunched over and holding a flashlight looking at the map. He’s drawing lines through roads and marking X’s in different areas.
“What are the X’s for?” i ask him
“They’re places that glanter’s usually stay around. I'm marking them off so we remember not to go through them, or at least be more cautious.”
“Cool. Did you find where we are right now?” He points to an area where the lines all converge out of.
“Right around here is where the neighborhood ends. So if we follow this path we can make it to the museum in one piece” I pat him on the back and take the map from his hands.
“Get some sleep Preston, we have a full day tomorrow” he grins to himself before laying down on the couch. I put the map back into my bag and hop on the bed to get to sleep. I cover my body in the quilt and roll over facing away from Preston as he falls asleep. I nestle myself into the bed and slowly fall asleep to get ready for the next day.
I'm awoken by Preston shaking the bed I'm sleeping on. My eyes open and the room is foggy, I wipe away the sleep from my eyes and focus my attention towards Preston. He's practically jumping out of his skin with excitement, he's already fully dressed for the trip and shaking the bed with a wide smile on his face.
“Ok ok i'm up the air feels heavy as a groggy feeling fills my body. I wipe my eyes and the room starts to clear up. I turn to face Preston. He's still shaking my bed to wake me up, he’s already fully dressed and nearly jumping out of his skin in excitement.
“Ok ok, i'm up you can stop shaking the bed” i say
“Then get up we’ve got a long walk ahead of us” he says as he stops shaking the mattress. He grabs the map from my bag and points to one of the red lines.
“We're gonna follow this way to the museum. We’ll move past the hotel around the ice skating rink and around the park. We’ll mainly stick to walking through the streets, we might have to go rooftop hopping to avoid any glanter’s if we see them but i'm sure we won’t reach that point.” he explains
“Wait, wait, wait, why are avoiding the skating rink and the park” i ask
“ everytime we go near the park there's weird noises and light coming out of it”
“And why can't we go to the ice skating rink?”
“I didn't think it would be important”
“It couldn't hurt to check it out at least”
“Fine we could make a detour”
“Ok and how do you plan on getting on top of roofs?”
“I'm sure we'll figure it out when we get to it”
“Ok man as long as you’re sure '' I yawn and step out of the bed. Preston starts to put the map in his bag. I walk into the bathroom with my clothes and change out of my pajamas. Minutes later I walk out and see Preston sitting on the couch twiddling his thumbs.
“Finally you're out” he smiles at me before handing me my bag and slinging it over his shoulder. We took a last look inside the kitchen to see if we missed anything. Afterwards we leave for the outside. The cold air bites at my face but Preston walks down the stairs, his face buried in the map. I jog to catch up to him as we both head into the street.
“Hey Preston, could I see the map?”
“Sure” he hands over the map and continues walking. I look at the map and the numerous lines drawn on roads. I look at the corner of the map and notice a small map key with numerous symbols for different areas like a library, school, hospital, and more. There's even a way to tell how far away each location is. The text reads “1 inch=5 miles” I quickly count how far we are from the museum.
“Dude this museum is like 100 miles away.”
“Yep it'll be a long walk, it'll take us a while to get there”
“Did you plan on us walking there the whole time?”
“We might find bikes or something.” he pauses “well i did think we would walk the whole way”
“This is gonna take us weeks to get there!”
“Did you have anything else planned?”
“Well…i guess not but we should still try to find some bikes or something”
“Ok if we see any way to travel faster we’ll take it”
“Alright cool” I hand him the map back and he folds it back up and puts it in his bag. We walk further until we leave the gated neighborhood we started in. Preston takes the map back out and looks at it before he turns right and continues walking. I follow him staring forward at the expanse of the road. The outside of the neighborhood is surrounded by roads all leading to different parts of Newkinawa. We walk past a sign that reads “Coretown 20 miles ahead” I nudge Preston towards the sign and he checks the map again.
“Yep, the museum’s in Coretown. Would you believe the residents were pretty proud of it. Should be a fun place to explore” he says
“Yeah but it’ll take us a million years to get there.” i complain
“Lighten up, I'm sure it will be worth it”. We continue walking down the road slowly making our way to Coretown.

Below is a list of some recent releases that are highly rated and some that will be released in June for your perusal. If you know of any other upcoming releases please post them in the comments!

RECENT RELEASES

The Burning Witch 3: A Humorous Romantic Fantasy by Delemhach

Lady Katarina Ashowan is used to getting into trouble, but her latest muddle takes the cake. A moment’s weakness in her attraction to Eric Reyes, crown prince of Daxaria, has landed her in an unexpected marriage with the man . . . just as her father, Lord Finlay Ashowan, arrives in Troivack to check on his headstrong daughter. As if figuring out how to acclimate her father to her scandalous elopement isn’t bad enough, there are rumors of dangerous magical plots afoot at court—with Kat seemingly at the center of them all.
For one thing, the devil is still prowling around, with dubious intentions as to Kat’s powers. For another, an underground network of wrongdoers has been spreading a mysterious and addictive drug throughout both Troivack and Daxaria. And perhaps most concerning, a villainess is hiding in plain sight somewhere close to Kat and her best friend, Queen Alina, hoping to use them to strike at the devil. Now it’s up to Kat—with the help of her kitten familiar, Pina, as well as her friends and family—to untangle the twisted web of courtly and magical intrigue before her hurried honeymoon is cut short by deadly disaster . . .

The Runaway Mate: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (Shifters of the Three Rivers) By Kira Nightingale

After what he did, I never wanted to see my fated mate again…
Mai: Four years ago, Ryan Shaw broke my heart, tore it into little pieces and then stomped on it. Ryan is my fated mate, but when I saw him with another woman at the regional meet of all the Packs, I’d had enough. I finally told him what he meant to me, and being the jerk that he is, he rejected me in front of everyone.
Heartbroken, I ran, trying to get as far away from him and the memory of that night as possible. Except I’m on a roll with picking jerks. So now I’m on the run again and heading back to the one place I know I’ll be safe. My brilliant plan is to lie low, heal, and then take off someplace new to start again. But Ryan knows I’m here now, and he has very different ideas.
Ryan: Mai is back, and my wolf is going crazy. I’ll do anything to protect her. It won’t be easy with secret plots to take over our Pack, her abusive ex sniffing around, and Mai’s urge to run every time she sees me. But there’s no way I’m letting her go, not again.

Fastlander Fallen by T.S. Joyce

Ace has one last promise to fulfill.
His father has asked him to try to join one of the Crews of Damon’s Mountains. When the new Fastlander Crew starts accepting applicants, Ace puts his name in the hat on a whim. Will the new Alpha ever allow him to be a part of his Crew? Not if he finds out who he really is. Ace has been hiding a secret about his lineage since he was a child, and now the Fastlanders are getting way too close for comfort. And to add to the pressure, there’s a human coordinating the Crew’s interview process that has his animal’s attention. At first he thinks his animal is hunting her, but the more he gets to know her, the more he realizes she is important. Corey Gable just might be the glue of the Fastlanders, and she doesn’t even realize her part in the destiny of this Crew. The problem? It’s twofold. One, he cannot under any circumstances bond to a human, and two? His life is in a free fall, and he cannot drag her into what is about to happen. If she wants to live, she’s got to stay human, and stay away from the Fastlanders. And most importantly? She has to stay away from Ace.
Corey Gable has lost someone she loves.
Corey’s cousin, Hallie, has been consumed by her new life with the shifters of Damon’s Mountains, and she’s left Corey behind. The only way to maintain her relationship with her cousin is to get involved in her new life—the ups, the downs, all of it. When Corey is roped into helping with the interview process of creating the new Fastlanders Crew, there are definitely some interesting characters who want the invite. One of them is tall, dark, and mysterious, and there’s something about him that keeps drawing her in—but he has big warnings for her. She’s messing with a destiny that could be the end of her life as she knows it. She wants to heed his advice, truly she does, but there’s just something about the mysterious stranger. And the more she finds out about who he is, the more she thinks she couldn’t leave him alone if she tried.

Hellhounds and Angel Cakes by Zoe Chant

He’s supposed to be a rough, tough, terrifying hellhound. That's hard when you're covered in chihuahuas.
Henry’s used to everyone being afraid of him – being a hellhound has that effect on people. What he’s not used to is having every animal within a four-mile radius suddenly wanting to be his best friend. Pigeons roosting on your shoulder: annoying, but mostly harmless. The local moose population stampeding toward you in the hopes of a hug: somewhat more worrying.
There’s nothing for it but to escape to the mountains, where he can use his hellhound form to intimidate the local wildlife into leaving him alone. But a stop for one last piece of cake before heading into the wilderness leads him straight to his fated mate. He's over the moon... but how can he court her when every animal in town is trying to leap into his arms?
Travel journalist Luna was looking forward to this assignment: covering the first annual Girdwood Springs Food Festival, along with her trademark: Fillmore, the world's ugliest dog. Specifically, she was looking forward to sampling all the amazing, mouth-watering local delicacies.
But there's other delights to sample in Girdwood Springs – such as the mind-bogglingly gorgeous, hunky man who is now covered in cake, thanks to Fillmore. And who seems to be strangely popular with the local animal population.
Suddenly, writing her article is the last thing on her mind…

Wild Scottish Beauty by Tricia O'Malley

“She was sunshine to my storm clouds, and I wondered how the two could ever coexist.”
A chance job offer in Scotland gives Willow Barlowe an excuse to escape the predictable life her overly controlling brother, Miles, wants for her. Excited to start fresh as a fashion intern for the local kiltmaker, Willow lands in small town Loren Brae brimming with sunshine and hope.
Until she discovers that her new boss is none other than Ramsay McMillan, her brother’s best friend, and the grumpiest man this side of the Atlantic. Never mind the ghost Highland coo that haunts the castle, nor the supposedly bewitched waters of Loch Mirren, Willow refuses to work under Ramsay’s watchful eyes, certain he’s reporting back to her brother.
Ramsay Kilts is home to one of the last remaining traditional kiltmakers in Scotland, Ramsay McMillan. Loyalty, continuity, and tradition are important to Ramsay–as is his privacy. After a family betrayal, Ramsay keeps his walls up, running a veritable kilt empire with as minimum fuss as he can. Enter Willow Barlowe–his new intern, good friend’s little sister, and a veritable thorn in his side.
If the thorn is made of sunshine and sparkles that is.
As the two clash, Ramsay must decide if loyalty is really more important than love?

Devious Gods by Caroline Peckham

Callie: Ruin chases close on our heels and the price we have paid for a chance at our salvation is higher than any of us could have presumed.
I have claimed a love so brutal that I fear losing it might destroy not just me but the world I have fought so desperately to save.
The gods watch us more closely than ever, urging us to fulfil the task our destiny demands. We only have to make it to the end of this road, but I fear what we might find when we reach that final destination.
Montana: I am no longer the girl born to ruin and ash, but a woman set on a path of salvation with my heart in the clutches of a monster.
Our eyes are finally open to the true enemies of our kind and now that we have managed to unite against all odds, we are determined to see the games of the gods end.
Time is running out and fate calls our name on a tumultuous wind. Let’s pray that we can answer it before damnation claims us all.

The Throne of Honour and Blood by J Bree

In our arrogance, the high fae forgot everything that mattered.
I carved out a reputation as the Savage Prince for my brutality against witches, but unable to wield our magic, I couldn’t stop my kingdom from being torn apart by war and famine while the Fates demanded my patience.
The worst was still to come.
After almost a thousand years of waiting for my Fates-blessed mate, and thousands of witches dead by my hand, the Fates revealed their cruelest truth yet.
With silver eyes that sliced to the bone and a humility that defied all reason, the witch I’m bound to has tested every inch of my restraint, but that was only the beginning.
Everything I once knew as true has come into question.
Loyalties will be tested, treaties broken, treason committed, and only the strongest will survive.
I am Prince Soren Celestial.
The rightful heir to the throne of the Southern Lands.
Nothing will keep me from my Fates-blessed mate.
Not even her hatred for me.

Devourer of Men: A Captain Hook, Crocodile, and Wendy Darling Reimagining by Nikki St. Crowe

I have few friends and fewer allies. What I do have on the island of Everland is a lot of people who want me gone. So when the Crocodile and Captain Hook reappear in my life, I am in no mood. And worse, they’re unknowingly endangering themselves by asking for me by a name I long considered dead.
Now, not only do I have to save myself, I have to save the two men who I swore I would murder with my bare hands if I ever set eyes on them again considering they abandoned me.
Unfortunately for me, Roc and Hook have other plans, and when I find myself caught between them, I have to make a decision: risk my heart or risk my life?
Devourer of Men is a dark MMF romantasy fairytale retelling. Characters have been aged up for this darker, grittier version. For a full list of content warnings, please visit the author's website.

Bespelled (Bewitched Book 2) By Laura Thalassa

“Neither magic, nor time, can keep us apart. We are like the stars. Eternal.”
No one told witch Selene Bowers having a soul mate would be so difficult. Nor did they warn her that he might be a vengeful, ancient sorcerer who would frame her for murder, force her to remember a past life he swears she lived, and then coerce her into an unbreakable marriage pact. But that’s exactly what happens the night of the Samhain Ball, when Selene finds herself in a jail cell.
After waking from enchanted sleep, Memnon swore to discover why Selene betrayed him long ago. But when his soul mate’s memories return, the truth reveals something else entirely. Horrified by his own actions and desperate to make amends, Memnon offers Selene the unthinkable: a magic bond that will give her full control over his will. And Selene is desperate enough to accept it.
But other enemies still haunt Henbane Coven, Selene’s magical academy, and they’ve taken a keen interest in her. If she wants to stop them, she’ll need Memnon’s help. But partnering with the sorcerer is a tricky business, especially when he’s dead set on winning her heart. And that can’t happen…because the bond controlling him will break the moment she falls in love with him.

Beautiful Beast (Dragons of Viria) by Devyn Sinclair

Standing in front of a dragon means dying by fire, but the heart knows there’s more than one way to burn.
Humans and dragons are at war, and I am a pawn in the battle.
Princess of a dying land, my life is not my own, and a marriage to a vicious, dragon-hunting prince will save my people from deadly famine or death by fire.
But before I can vow my life to a monster, dragons drop screaming from the sky with a single aim. End the alliance. Kill me. I welcome the flames, relieved to burn instead of rot.
But the flames never come.
One look in the dragons' eyes, and they carry me away. Three dragons whose gaze burns with hunger and fills me with fire.
They're not what we were taught, and every passing day I learn more of the truth. Dragons are not the enemy we thought they were.
Still, one question remains: for centuries no one has stood before a dragon and survived. If these dragons were sent to kill me, why am I still alive?

Midlife Vampire Hunter (The Forty Proof Series Book 9) by Shannon Mayer

Crash:
I had her in my arms, only to lose her moments later. Frantic doesn't even begin to describe my state of mind as I search for Bree.
That search takes me deep into my past and to a family home that I swore I would never return to.
To find Bree, I must face a queen I defied and a monster that wants my soul. All while being heckled by a demon-infested blade.
Goddess help me succeed.
Breena:
Being abducted by a woman who is supposed to be dead, and weirdly looks a heck of a lot like me, is disturbing. Being told my death is needed to complete a wicked spell and that I'll be turned into a vampire? Even more disturbing.
I can't reach Crash or my friends. I have no idea where I am. My only ally? Alan. My ex-husband. Yup, you read that right,
The path to the end of my story is shadowed in fog, danger, and mystery, but I begin to see through it as the players and truth emerge. And that sight shows me that the sliver of hope is worth hanging onto, that my friends are with me even when I cannot see them, and that a future free of those who mean us harm is possible.
Even if it costs me more than I ever planned on paying

UPCOMING JUNE RELEASES

The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities by Iris Lake

Nepheli’s Little Shop of Grand Curiosities is the last scrap of magic left in the humdrum city of Elora as the Dreadful Mundane slowly takes over its residents’ hearts, and she is determined to preserve it any way she can. But when Apollo, a charming and mysterious traveler from the other side of the world, walks into her Shop, bringing her all kinds of trouble, Nepheli, for the first time in her life, is stolen away from the familiar wonders of her Curiosity Shop and is thrust into a dangerous world of lethal creatures and heartbreaking magic. As the two of them embark on a long journey of self-discovery, Nepheli will soon realize that the most curious things in life lie right beyond the reach of one’s comfort zone.
The Little Shop Of Grand Curiosities is a lighthearted fantasy romance about the true meaning of love, the power of empathy, and the unremitting yearning to be extraordinary as an act of rebellion against the mundaneness of the world.

Filthy Rich Fae by Geneva Lee

Cate Holloway knows the unspoken rule of New Orleans: avoid the powerful Gage crime family at all costs. Of course, that was before her brother got caught in their chaos. Now Cate has no choice but to confront the dark and forbidding prince of New Orleans himself and beg for her brother’s life. But Lachlan Gage is as lethal as he is beautiful…and the only currency he’s interested in is her soul.
Because Lachlan isn’t just some ruthless criminal. He’s fae. And he has his own secret reasons for binding her to him. Tricked and desperate, Cate is torn between humanity and the breathtaking Otherworld. A place filled with shadows and secrets, with members of each fae court plotting against her just as her captor’s motives for trapping her become more mysterious. And if she can’t break this sinister bargain in the next thirty days, she’ll be bound to the inscrutable yet infuriatingly tempting fae prince and his deadly world…forever.

The Princess and the Pack by Fallon English

Princess Ivy and Prince Cillian have been fated since birth. Ivy has always known that one day, she must leave her country to become not only Cillian’s bride, but Namara’s future Queen.
As an Omega and a princess, her life revolves around duty; not the dream that she harbors of life-altering love. Her station dictates she deny Nature’s call for a pack of her own. Instead, she must wed and settle for one - and only one - Alpha to preserve their pristine, royal bloodlines.
But fate has other plans in mind for Princess Ivy. Plans that involve not just her Betrothed, but his best friend and Ivy’s childhood nemesis - a nobleman, and the handsome son of the Royal Gardener.
Will societal expectations and tradition pull them apart? Or will Ivy and her Alphas take charge of their fate and give in to a love with the power to change the world?

A Rival of Hearts by Tessonja Odette

Two rival writers. One prestigious publishing contract. A bargain of hearts and seduction.
They say never bargain with the fae. They also say don’t get drunk on fae wine. Yet romance author Edwina Danforth has managed a blunder with both on her first visit to the infamous faelands. Now she's trapped in a magic-fueled bet she barely remembers with a man she’d be happier to forget. The terms? Whoever can bed the most lovers during their month-long dueling book tour wins a coveted publishing contract.
The win should be easy for Edwina. She’s known for penning scintillating tales of whirlwind romance. There’s just one her imagination vastly exceeds her bedroom experience. But when failure means plummeting her career back into obscurity, losing isn’t an option.
Her handsome fae rival, William Haywood, poses an even greater challenge. Not only are his looks as aggravatingly perfect as his track record behind closed doors, but he has his own reasons for playing to win, and he won’t go down without a fight. Unless, of course, it’s a different kind of going down. In that case, he’s fair game.
Edwina and William clash in a rivalry of romance. But what happens when their objects of desire…turn out to be each other?

It happened. He didn't deny that. Not like he was a suspect or anything—not yet—but he never denied it to himself. At the same time, this all happened over a decade ago—twelve years to be exact.
He didn't think of it every day; in fact, sometimes an entire month would go by where it barely crossed his mind.
In a way, that whole experience—he thought of all the abductions and murders as a singular event—now felt as if it belonged to somebody else.
It was a time in his life when he was confused, mixed-up, searching; a dark time, you know, like a phase. Who didn't have one of those in their past?
Plus, he was married now. His wife, Dee, obviously didn't know about it and he felt no obligation to tell her. Did he ask about her former lovers?
Sometimes there are things in the past and you just let them be. Whether it was Dee losing her virginity to the quarterback of the football team in the backseat at a drive-in or him using multiple black garbage bags and masking tape on that thing he didn't have time to bury in rural Tennessee, everyone has things they would rather forget about. Sometimes you just leave things where they lie.
So that's what Ned Doyle did.
Until that Sunday morning, November 6th, 1988.
He was a having a glass of Dee's pulpy homemade orange juice, waiting for his coffee to percolate, when he opened his heavy weekend edition of the New York Times (probably Ned's greatest extravagance—he liked its heft; and how the Arts & Leisure section made him feel culturally superior to his Ohio townsfolk, “the Philistines of Findlay,” he called them) when he saw the article buried in the back.
The country was two days from heading to the polls for the General Election—Bush v. Dukakis—so most everything else that week had been relegated to the back.
He read the article twice before he could even begin to make sense of it. It seemed to be a story about something called "DNA fingerprinting" and a 27-year-old baker in Great Britain named Colin Pitchfork who had confessed to raping and murdering two 15-year-old girls, in separate incidents a few years apart, after a new scientific process had been used to extract information from semen which he, Colin Pitchfork, had left at the crime scenes (likely inside the victims) some five years earlier.
Now if they could do all that after five years, why not ten years—or maybe even… twelve?
"Interesting story here," he said to Dee. It wasn't uncommon for Ned to read a news story twice—once for himself and a second time aloud to Dee while she brewed his coffee and burnt her toast. But this was his third reading and Ned acted as if it were his first.
"What do you make of that?" he asked. It somehow got worse each time he read it. After the third time, he felt as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach.
"Science Fiction is what it sounds like," Dee said matter-of-factly, pouring Ned his coffee in a mug that bore the Marathon Oil insignia. Findlay, Ohio was Marathon’s headquarters although there had been rumors circulating about a move to Texas.
"And unconstitutional," he said. "Cops running a dragnet like that, taking blood samples from 5,000 townspeople. Thankfully, that would never pass the muster here."
"They did catch the killer so maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea," she said, buttering her burnt toast. "Otherwise, who knows? They could have convicted the wrong man.”
Ned had already gotten lucky once – astonishingly so. Griffin Gerald Jones, the famed “I-75 Corridor Child Killer,” had claimed responsibility for all but one of Ned’s victims before dying in Florida’s electric chair.
"You can't have police in this country running around, sticking everyone with needles, drawing blood for some sort of science experiment,” he said. “Nevermind the Constitution, what about AIDS?”
“What about it?” she asked.
“There's been hundreds, thousands of cases now where people have been infected by giving blood,” he said. “That's a medical fact. Get accused of a crime and AIDS too?"
"It doesn't sound like any of the townspeople there in England got AIDS, darling. Unless there's more to the story, besides what you read to me."
He watched her spread orange marmalade over her burnt toast and take a bite. She had a dead tooth and he saw it every time she opened her mouth. He loved Dee but had never been sexually attracted to her. Not in the way he had been attracted to others.
"It really is just a matter of time before that stuff makes it over here," she said with her mouth full. "To this side of the pond, as they say." She took a sip of his orange juice. "Isn’t that how it always works? Things start over there in England, or in California, and then phht, before you know it, it makes its way to Findlay."
He held his hand over his stomach. She saw him wince.
"Was it my orange juice again? Was it still pulpy? I squeezed it by hand and even strained it twice this time."
"It’s not your fault,” he said. “I think it’s me. Orange juice is getting too… acidic for me." He looked at the clock on the coffee maker. "I'm going to be late."
He turned the page.
He played the 8 o'clock Mass by rote as he had many a bleary-eyed Sunday morning. It was pure muscle memory at this point. He made a few mistakes here and there, missed a key or two, but it was nothing the organ's sustain pedal couldn't mask – not that anyone would complain (not at the 8 o'clock anyway).
On Sundays Ned had four Masses: the 8, the 9:30, the big one at 11, and the 12:30 for the dilettantes who couldn't get their acts together for the 11.
He turned the page.
Today he was using Glory and Praise, AKA "the blue hymnal" for songs he knew by heart.
Turning the pages of his sheet music, reading each note, he was able to keep his mind off it.
Ned abhorred cliches (especially those involving sports) but he made an exception for “Out of sight, out of mind.” For Ned, that wasn’t a cliché; it was a way of life. He was a man who preferred to be heard, not seen, which made St. Bartholomew (or St. Bart’s) the perfect home for him.
In a spectacular architectural oversight, the church's pipe organ was situated so the organist's back was to the altar and pews. The organist of course needs to see what's going on in the Mass to read certain non-verbal cues but the arrangement suited Ned just fine. The congregation was comprised of many young families who had many young children—boys in particular—and it wasn't so much that he couldn't control himself because he was now firmly in control of all that; it was more that he didn't need any reminders of that time when he couldn't.
Especially during church.
So to see the altar behind him, Ned had installed an actual rearview mirror, the type you'd find on an old Buick, and he used a special type of putty to affix it to the mantle of the pipe organ. Having been the church organist at St. Bart's for nine years, he seldom needed it anymore—he could do it in his sleep—but it came in handy today as he found his attention drifting and he nearly missed the oratory refrain at the 9:30 Mass.
His real problems didn't start until the 35-minute break between the 8 and 9:30.
He was reorganizing his sheet music after the first wave of churchgoers had cleared out, when he began thinking about Colin Pitchfork again. The article said he was a baker in England somewhere—did it say he baked cakes or was that Ned's invention?
Even though no picture was provided in the Times article, Ned spent the balance of the 9:30 service picturing the 27- year-old ex-rapist/murderer working in his small English bakery, quietly going about his business, baking his cakes, when the police (Bobbies?) came.
Was he expecting them?
He played the offertory hymn, "On Eagle's Wings," as the ushers began taking up the collections and a family of parishioners he’d never seen before brought the gifts up.
And what was going through Pitchfork's head when he saw the Bobbies there? When they began asking him about rapes and murders that happened almost five years ago? The article said that he had initially given investigators someone else's blood when “the enquiry” began. Had he somehow caught wind of this “DNA Fingerprinting?”
There was a new usher, Ned noticed, in his makeshift rearview mirror.
The Times article said that one of Pitchfork's co-workers at the bakery had taken the blood test masquerading as Pitchfork because Pitchfork had told the co-worker that ‘he could not give blood under his own name because he had already given blood while pretending to be a friend of his who had wanted to avoid being harassed by police because of a youthful conviction for burglary.’ This story was later overheard by a woman in a pub who immediately went to the police.
Ned realized he had missed the homily twice now. Not that it mattered. Heard one you've heard them all and Ned was pretty sure there would be no surprises. Plus, he'd have two more chances to catch it. He knew he would have to really focus for the 11 o'clock. That was always the main event. He was going to play "I Will Raise Him Up," a complex hymn, which required his full attention. He would scratch that one now if he hadn’t read that article and if the Sunday programs hadn't already been printed. People liked that one –it was a real barn burner, as they say—and if he skipped it, there might be questions.
The last thing Ned needed right now were fucking questions.
Who was this new usher, by the way?

By the start of the 11 o'clock Mass, Ned wondered whether anyone would even show for the 12:30, seeing that it was already standing room only. The 11 was always the most popular Mass, but today felt different; it was packed like Christmas Eve. What was the occasion? Was the predominantly conservative town that afraid of Dukakis winning the presidency? Ohio was a swing state after all and that image of the little Greek man in the tank was unnerving, sure, but was it enough to warrant this sort of turnout for the 11 AM Mass at St. Bart's in Findlay?
Or was something else going on?
Ned didn’t believe they had come to hear his rendition of "I Will Raise Him Up."
Or could there be another reason? Maybe they had all read the same Times article. Maybe there had long been simmering suspicion of Ned in the community and maybe the article finally prompted the townspeople to join together and take arms. With pitchforks.
On March 31, 1892, the only known lynching in the history of Hancock County occurred when a mob of 1,000 men, many "respectable citizens," broke into the county jail in Findlay. They lynched Mr. Lytle, a man who had killed his wife and two daughters with a hatchet the day before. The townsfolk hanged the man twice (first from the bridge, then a telegraph pole) and then, in a classic case of overkill, shot his body over a dozen times. The authorities had intended to transfer the prisoner out of town at 1 o'clock in secret, where a train was scheduled to transport him to Lima, but someone talked.
Ned had only confessed what he had done to one person – a priest eight years prior. The priest was set to retire as he was dying of pancreatic cancer and visiting from a nearby parish. For years Ned had heard this priest was “of the old school” – i.e., your word to God’s ear, and it went no further. He was as safe as they come. Still, even then, Ned used the screened side of the Confessional, lowered his voice a full octave, and spoke of what he had done obliquely and in generalities. They were mortal sins. His penance severe: to repent and refrain from repeating the act again. The priest was now long dead. There’s no way he could have tracked Ned down and told anyone. Was there?
The last one was named Derek. That was the only one left unsolved.
He would play "I Will Raise Him Up" during Communion. Because of the crowds, he knew the communion lines would be longer and would thus require him to stretch the already difficult song a few minutes longer. If he was going to supply the masses, he was going to need a bigger yield. In a way it was like baking a cake, wasn't it?
He met Derek at a Dairy Queen in Paducah, Kentucky. It was Labor Day 1976. It must have been 100 degrees out, but it felt even hotter with the humidity. It was a real scorcher.
Derek had a bicycle with an American flag banana seat. It was the summer of Bicentennial Fever. The Dairy Queen was in an area known as Noble Park. It had a tin canopy that kept cars cool in the shade.
Ned missed a note as he turned the page. He stepped on the sustain pedal and his mistake sounded deliberate and beautiful even.
It was early evening; fireflies were out in full force and Ned was blotto. He had been drinking beer—cans of Schlitz—all day at the picnic of a friend (technically, the friend of an acquaintance so basically a stranger). A born introvert who still lived alone (this was pre-Dee), Ned was very drunk and primed for small talk. You must also remember this was a very different time. This was back when you still opened cans with an opener; drunk driving was frowned upon but not the cardinal sin it is today; and a grown man could still park outside a Dairy Queen and strike up an innocent conversation with a prepubescent boy on a bike.
"What da ya' got there?" Ned asked.
"Butterscotch Sundae," the boy said. The boy was blonde with brown eyes.
"Butterscotch, eh?"
The boy licked his plastic spoon and stared somewhere beyond the pea-green 1974 Buick Riviera Ned had inherited from his old man after he had kicked the bucket.
"For the life of me, I can't remember if I like butterscotch or not," Ned said. "That probably sounds pretty screwy, I bet."
"Get a free sample at the window,” the kid said. “They're free."
"Looks awfully busy over there. Mind if I have a taste of yours? I don't have any cooties, I promise."
The kid dragged his spoon over his ice cream as he mulled it over. Maybe seeing that he was almost done with it anyway, he figured what's the harm. He handed Ned the Styrofoam cup.
Ned looked at the boy as he stirred it a little and then placed the curved side of the spoon on his tongue and kept it there.
"I do like butterscotch," Ned said, giving it back. "Thank you for sharing that with me, that was awfully kind of you—say, what is your name?"
"Derek," the boy said.
"Derek. What a nice boy you are. Do you like dogs, Derek?"
"Sure," Derek said.
"Do you have a dog?"
"Not anymore. Used to. We had a beagle named Eleanor but she went blind and then lame and then..."
"What kind of dog was she?" Ned asked.
"A beagle," the boy said.
"A beagle, yes you said that. You like Golden Retrievers?"
"Sure," the boy said.
"Cause I have a Golden Retriever. It's a girl too. A bitch."
Derek smiled.
"She's pregnant. I mean she was. But… she just gave birth."
"To puppies?"
"You betcha. It was just a few weeks ago. She had a whole litter of 'em. Boys, girls. Cutest little pups you've ever seen. The thing is, Derek, I don't know what to do with them all. You're a nice boy. You just shared your Butterscotch Sundae with me and I'd care to return the favor. Would you… like a puppy?"
"How much?"
"For nothing,” Ned said. “For free.”
"You'll give me a puppy for nothing? And I can pick the one I want?"
"Sure can. They're at my place just down the road. Thing is, it's probably too far to bike there. And you're going to need both hands to hold on to the puppy. Hop in, I’ll give you a lift."
"What about my bike?"
"We could put it in the trunk but we're not going to be long. We'll be right back. It'll be safe here. People don't take things that aren’t theirs around here – especially when there's a lot of people around."
He remembered waking up on the floor of his apartment disoriented. He was late for work. He was still working as a salesman at the piano store. There was a big Labor Day sale still going on. Labor Day was always a big day for retail. The owner was a nice man and Ned wanted to call him and apologize but he wasn't sure what to say yet.
He hadn't planned on sleeping in. Forgetting work on Labor Day. The irony.
He saw the boy's underwear on his floor. They were tighty-whities from Fruit of the Loom. He thought of that every time he saw an ad for that company afterward.
They weren’t bloody but they were torn.
He remembered the sound of the filter on the aquarium he used to keep in his apartment. It was noisy but sometimes that was a good thing. He was very into Japanese Fighting Fish for a while until it became too expensive as they always killed each other.
There were no puppies obviously.
His apartment did not allow dogs.
His sense of disorientation and the ensuing panic prevented him from experiencing any of the usual remorse he felt afterward.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
The boy's body was in the bathroom just off the bedroom and he needed to get rid of it. He needed to get out of town. Out of Paducah. Out of Kentucky.
He placed the boy in a hardshell Samsonite suitcase, carried it out of his apartment, walked down the one flight of steps. He saw no one and he was confident no one had seen him. The suitcase was lighter than it should have been—a detail he never forgot—and he walked out to the carport where he saw his Riviera parked sloppily between the lines. He felt a wave of nausea come over him but he suppressed it. He opened his trunk, placed the suitcase in the back, and then looked around the apartment complex before walking back inside. He cleaned up with bleach. Showered. Hit the road.
There were no police gathered outside the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t a crime scene. He didn't look to see if the boy’s bike was still there; he didn’t want to appear suspicious.
He needed to get out of Paducah so he headed toward the freeway.
For a moment he briefly considered the Shawnee National Forest, which was to the north, but he stuck to his gut and took the newly-constructed Interstate 24 East toward Tennessee. Aside from getting out of Kentucky, he didn't have a plan. The asphalt was brand new and at times he felt as though he were floating across the highway. It took about two hours to get to the state line and once he was over, he filled up at a 76 Station in Clarksville, Tennessee. Only when he was filling his tank and had a moment to reflect, did he think about what was in the trunk. He imagined he had Superman's X-Ray vision and pictured the suitcase in the back, the boy's tiny body folded like a pretzel inside.
He missed both the readings, the Gospel, and the homily again. Then came the Consecration which was over before he knew it. It was time. He began to play "I Will Raise Him Up." In his rearview, he saw the communion lines forming and he thought he caught a glimpse of the new usher staring at him, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to concentrate on the song. People knew this one; people wanted to hear it exactly as they remembered it, and it was a full house, so the sustain pedal wouldn't save him this time.
Once he made it through the chorus, he knew he could relax a little.
The "DNA fingerprinting" in Pitchfork's case came from semen that was left inside of the victims.
Ned had made it to the outskirts of Nashville faster than he expected. He still hadn't checked in with Mr. Cory, the owner of the piano store. He desperately needed an alibi. Old Mr. Cory could probably send Ned to the electric chair if he wasn't careful.
He got on Highway 386 and headed north. After 20 minutes, he exited in Gallatin and drove around until he found an area he thought was remote. There was a road called Cages Bend.
He liked the sound of that.
It sounded hopeful.
He took that until he came to a gravel road, which looked as if it led to an even more secluded wooded area.
In the rearview, he remembered the cloud of dust kicked up by the tires of the Riviera he had inherited from his father, the drunk, who had done to him what he had gone on to do to others.
In the rearview, the communion lines were still going strong. No sign of that new usher.
He came upon a bend in the road that looked totally secluded, as if no one had been there in years. He cut the engine and listened for a moment. The invisible cicadas high up in the trees made it sound as if a giant rattle snake was slithering around him, preparing to strike. He got out of the car.
He didn't know if it was the trees or the fields of tall grass, but something smelled like semen.
He opened the trunk with his keys and pulled out the hardshell suitcase. When he closed the trunk there was a rustling in the tall grass but when he looked, he saw only a herd of white tail deer scattering.
Initially he had planned on dumping the body and taking the suitcase home with him. He didn't think to bring a shovel. Then he heard the sound of a bush hog—a piece of farm equipment with spinning blades that cut vegetation and cleared the land. He couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. He checked to make sure his suitcase didn't have any labels on it or name tags. He then two black trash bags in his back seat and wrapped the suitcase – one bag around the top, the other on the bottom, and secured it with masking tape. Then he carried it into the woods and set it down in some brush. He began snapping tree branches off to make cover but as the bush hog got louder and closer he panicked, leaving it only partially covered.
The communion lines had dissipated. Everyone was sitting now, even the priest.
Everyone always knelt until the priest sat and Ned should never be playing if the priest was sitting but somehow, Ned had missed his cue.
He concluded "I Will Raise Him Up" softly, using the sustain to ease himself out.
He looked in the rearview and saw the priest staring at him.
As was the rest of the congregation.
They would all be coming for him soon enough.
Unless he could make it back down to Tennessee and get rid of that thing once and for all – assuming it hadn’t been found yet.
Somehow, deep down, Ned always knew it was going to happen.
He was raised up, alright.
Now it was just a matter of time.

PLAYBOY Interview With Conan O'Brien Interview by Kevin Cook For Playboy Magazine February 1998
A candid conversation with the preppie prince of "Late Night" about his rocky start, his show's secret one-day cancellation and how David Letterman saved the day.
He was polite. He was funny. He gave us a communicable disease.
At 34 Conan O'Brien is hotter than the fever he was running when we met in his private domain above the "Late Night" sound stage. A gangly freckle-faced ex-high school geek he is "one of TV's hottest properties" according to "People" magazine. The host of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" has become his generation's king of comedy.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Congested too, but O'Brien has far more to worry about than his head cold. A perfectionist who broods over one bad minute in an otherwise perfect hour of TV, he worries he might be anhedonic, "I have trouble with success," he says, "I was raised to believe that if something good happens something bad is coming." Sure things look good now "Rolling Stone" calls "Late Night" "the hottest comedy show on TV." Ratings are better than ever, particularly among 18- to 34-year-olds, the viewers advertisers crave.
But O'Brien only works harder. Despite his illness he taped two shows in 26 hours on three hours' sleep. He smoothly interviewed Elton John then burst into coughing fits during commercials. Later in his crammed corner office overlooking Manhattan traffic Conan the Cool gulped Dayquil gel caps. He coughed spewing microbes.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. Of course O'Brien can't complain. He came seriously close to falling to being banished behind the scenes as just another failed talk show host.
At his first "Late Night" press conference he corrected a reporter who called him a relative unknown, "Sir I am a complete unknown," he said. That line got a laugh, but soon O'Brien looked doomed. His September 13, 1993 debut began with O'Brien in his dressing room preparing to hang himself only to be interrupted by the start of his show. Before long his career was hanging by a thread. Ratings were terrible. Critics hated the show. Tom Shales of "The Washington Post" called it as "lifeless and messy as roadkill." Shales said O'Brien should quit.
Network officials held urgent meetings discussing the Conan O'Brien debacle. Should they fire him? How should they explain their mistake?
In the end of course he turned it around. The network hung with him long enough for the ratings to improve and the host of the cooler-than-ever "Late Night" now defines comedy's cutting edge just as Letterman did ten years ago.
Even Shales loves "Late Night" these days. He calls O'Brien's turnaround "one of the most amazing transformations in television history."
O'Brien was born on April 18, 1963 in Brookline, Massachusetts. His father, a doctor, is a professor at Harvard Medical School. His mother, a lawyer, is a partner at an elite Boston Law firm. Conan, the third of six children became a lector at church and a misfit at school. Tall and goofy, bedeviled with acne, he tried to impress girls with jokes. That plan usually bombed, but O'Brien eventually found his niche at Harvard where he won the presidency of the "Harvard Lampoon" in 1983 and again in 1984 - the first two-time "Lampoon" president since humorist Robert Benchley held the honor 85 years ago.
After graduating magna cum laude with a double major in literature and American history he turned pro. Writing for HBO's "Not Necessarily The News." O'Brien was earning $100,000 a year before his 24th birthday. But writing was never enough.
He honed his performance skills with the Groundlings, a Los Angeles improv group. There he worked with his onetime girlfriend Lisa Kudrow, now starring on "Friends." But Conan was not such a standout. In 1988 he landed a job at "Saturday Night Live" - but as a writer, not as on-air talent. In almost four years on the show O'Brien made only fleeting appearances, usually as a crowd member or security guard. His writing was more memorable. He wrote (or co-wrote) Tom hanks' "Mr Short-Term Memory" skits as well as the "pump you up" infosatire of Hanz and Franz and the nude beach sketch in which Matthew Broderick and "SNL" members played nudists admiring one another's penises. With dozens of mentions of the word that hit was the most penis-heavy moment in TV history. It helped O'Brien win an Emmy for comedy writing.
In 1991 he quit "SNL" and moved on to "The Simpsons" where he worked for two years. His urge to perform came out in wall-bouncing antics in writers' meetings. "Conan makes you fall out of your chair" said "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening. O'Brien's yen to act out was so strong that he spurned Fox's reported seven-figure offer to continue as a writer. He was driving for the spotlight.
By then David Letterman had announced he was turning shin - leaving NBC taking his ton-rated act to CBS. Suddenly NBC was up a creek without a host. The network turned to Lorne Michaels, O'Brien's "Saturday Night Live" boss. Michaels enlisted Conan's help in the host search planning to use him in a behind-the-scenes job. But when Garry Shandling, Dana Carvey and almost every other star turned down the chore of following Letterman, Michaels finally listened to Conan's crazy suggestion, "Let me do it!" Michaels persuaded the network to entrust it's 12:30 slot which Letterman had turned into a gold mine to an untested wiseass from Harvard.
O'Brien was working on one of his last "Simpsons" episodes when he got the news. He turned "paler than usual," Groening recalled. The Conan moseyed back to where the other writers were working, "I'll come back with the Homer Simspon joke later. I have to go replace Letterman," he said.
NBC executives now get credit for their foresight during those dark days of 1993 and 1994. They snared the axe and now reap the multimillion-dollar spoils of that decision. In fact, the story is not so simple. We sent Contributing Editor Kevin Cook to unravel the tale of O'Brien's survival, which he tells here for the first time. Cook reports:
"His office is chock-full of significa. There's a three-foot plastic pickle the Letterman staff left behind in 1993 - perhaps to suggest what a predicament he was in. There's a copy of Jack Paar's 'I Kid You Not' and a coffee-table book called 'Saturday Night Live: The First 20 Years.' His bulletin board features letters from fans such as John Watters and Bob Dole and an 8" x 10" glossy of Andy Richter with the inscription: "To Conan - Your bitter jealousy warms my black heart. Love and Kisses Andy."
"Of course it's all for show. From the photos of kitch icons Adam West and Robert Stack to the framed Stan Laurel autograph, from the deathbed painting of Abraham Lincoln, to the ironic star taped to Conan's door - they're all clever signals that tell a visitor how to view the star. Lincoln was his collegiate preoccupation: stardom is his occupation. Somewhere between the two I hoped to find the real O'Brien.
"As a Playboy reader he wanted to give me a better-than-average interview. I wanted something more - a definitive look at the guy who may end up being the Johnny Carson of his generation."
"Here's hoping we succeeded. If not I carried his germs 3000 miles and infected dozens of Californians for no good reason.
O'Brien: Yes, this is how to do a Playboy Interview -- completely tanked on cold medicine. I'll pick it up and read, "Yes, I'm gay."
Playboy: We could talk another time. O'Brien: (coughing) No, it's OK. I memorized Dennis Rodman's answers. Can I use them?
Playboy: You sound really sick. Do you ever take a day off? O'Brien: No. The age of talk show hosts taking days off is over. Johnny Carson could go to Africa when he was the only game in town -- "See you in two weeks!" But nobody does that now. I will give you a million dollars on the first day Jay takes off for illness.
Playboy: Do you ever slow down and enjoy your success? O'Brien: If anything, the pace is picking up. Restaurateurs insist on giving me a table even if I'm only passing by, so I'm eating nine meals a night. Women stop me on the street and hand me their phone numbers.
Playboy: So you have groupies? O'Brien: Oh yes. And other fans. Drifters. Prisoners. Insomniacs. Cab Drivers, who must watch a lot of late night TV, seem to love me lately. They keep saying, "You will not pay, you will not pay, you make me happy!"
Playboy: How happy did your new contract make you? O'Brien: Terrified. The network said, "We're all set for five years." I said, "Shut up, shut up! I can't think that far ahead." Tonight, for instance, I do my jokes, then interview Elton John and Tim Meadows. We finished taping about 6:30. By 6:45 my memory was erased and my only thought was, Tomorrow: John Tesh. And I started to obsess about John Tesh. Sad, don't you think?
Playboy: Not too sad. You got off to a rocky start but now you're so hot that People magazine recently said, "that was then, this is wow." O'Brien: I try not to pay much attention. Since I ignored the critics who said I should shoot myself in the head with a German Luger, it would be cheating to tear out nice reviews now and rub them all over my body, giggling. Though I have thought about it.
Playboy: Tell us about your trademark gag. You interview a photo of Bill Clinton or some other celeb, and a pair of superimposed lips provide outrageous answers. O'Brien: We call it the Clutch Cargo bit, after that terrible old cartoon series. They saved money on animation by superimposing real lips on the cartoons. I wanted to do topical jokes in a cartoony way -- not just Conan doing quips at a desk. TV is visual; I want things to look funny. But we're not Saturday Night Live; we couldn't spend $100,000 on it. Hence, the cheap, cheesy lips, You'd be surprised how many people we fool.
Playboy: Viewers believe that's really the president yelling, "Yee-haw! Who's got a joint?" O'Brien: It's strange. You may know intellectually that Clinton doesn't talk like Foghorn Leghorn. Ninety-eight percent of your brain knows the president wouldn't say, "Whoa Conan get a load of that girl!" But there are a few brain cells that aren't sure. When Bob Dole was running for president we had him doing a past-life regression: "My cave, get away." And then back further, "Must form flippers to crawl on to rocky soil," he says. There may be people out there who believe that Bob Dole was the first amphibian.
Playboy: Do you ever go too far? O'Brien: The fun is in going too far. It's a nice device because you get Bill Clinton to do the nastiest Bill Clinton jokes. We'll have Clinton making fart noises while I say "Sir! Please!"
Playboy: Are you enjoying your job now, with your new success? O'Brien: Well, there are surprises. I hate surprises. Like most comics, I'm a control freak. But I am learning that the show works best when things are out of control. Tonight I ask Elton John if he likes being neighbors with Joan Collins. He says he isn't neighbors with Joan Collins. He lives next door to Tina Turner. So I panic -- huge mistake! But Elton saves the day. "Joan Collins, Tina Turner, it doesn't matter. Either way I could borrow a wig," he says. Huge laugh, all because I fucked up. Later he surprised me by blurting out that he's hung like a horse. The camera cuts to me shaking my head: That crazy Elton. What can I do? Of course, I'm delighted that he went too far.
Playboy: That "What can I do?" look resembles a classic take of Jack Benny's. O'Brien: There's an old saying in literature: "Good poets borrow; great poets steal." I think T.S. Eliot stole it from Ezra Pound. Comics steal, too. Constantly. When I watched Johnny Carson, I noticed that he got a few takes from Benny and Bob Hope. When a comedy writer told me how much Woody Allen had borrowed from Hope, I thought, What? They're nothing alike. Then I went back and watched Son of Paleface, and there's Hope, the nervous city guy backing up on his heels, wringing his hands and saying, "Sorry, I'll just be moving along." Now look at early Woody Allen. You see big authority figures and Woody nervously saying, "Look, I'll just be on my way." Of course Woody made it his own, but he must have watched and loved Bob Hope.
Playboy: Who are your role models? O'Brien: Carson. Woody Allen. SCTV. Peter Sellers. When Peter Sellers died I felt such a loss, thinking, There won't be anymore of that. There's some Steve Martin in my false bravado with female guests: "Why, hel-lo there!" And I won't deny having some Letterman in my bones.
Playboy: You were surprise as Letterman's successor. At first you seemed like the wrong choice. O'Brien: I didn't get ratings. That doesn't mean I didn't get laughs. Yes, I had a giant pompadour and I looked like a rockabilly freak. I was too excited, pushed too hard, and people said, "That guy isn't a polished performer." Fine! But it isn't my goal to be Joe Handsomehead cool, smooth talk show host. Late Night with Conan O'Brien is supposed to be a work in progress, and now that we've had some success there's a danger of our getting too polished and morphing into something smoothly professional. Which would suck.
Do you know why I wanted this show? Because Late Night with David Letterman played with the rules and it looked like fun. Here was a place where people did risky comedy every night for millions of people. We had to keep this thing alive. There should be a place on a big network where people are still messing around.
Playboy: How bad were your early days on the show? O'Brien: Bad. Dave left here under a cloud: his fans and the media were angry with NBC. Then NBC picks a guy with crazy hair and a weird name. And the world says, "Harvard? Those guys are assholes." I sincerely hope that the winter of December 1993, our first winter, was the worst time I will ever have. I'd go out to do the warm up and the back two rows of seats would be empty. That's hard to look at. I would tell a joke and then hear someone whisper, "Who's he? Where's Dave?"
Playboy: You had trouble getting guests. O'Brien: Bob Denver canceled on us. We shot a test show with Al Lewis of The Munsters. We did the clutch cargo thing with a photo of Herman Munster. Unfortunately, Fred Gwynne, who played Herman, had recently died, and Al Lewis kept pointing at the screen, saying, "You're dead! I was at your funeral!"
Playboy: For months you got worried notes from network executives. What did they say? O'Brien: They were worried. The fact that Lorne Michaels was involved bought me some time. But Lorne had turned to me at the start and said, "OK, Conan. What do you want to do?" Now television critics were after me and the network was starting to realize what a risk I was. Suggestions came fast and furious. I kept the note that said, "Why don't you just die?"
Playboy: Did they suggest ways to be funnier? O'Brien: They were more specific and tactical. The network gets very specific data. Say there was a drop in ratings between 12:44 and 12:48 when I was talking to Jon Bon Jovi. I'll be told, "Don't ever talk to him again" Or they'll want me to tease viewers into staying with us: "You should tease that -- say, 'We'll have nudity coming up next!'"
Playboy: You did come close to being cancelled. O'Brien: We were cancelled.
Playboy: Really? You have never admitted that. O'Brien: This is the first time I've talked about it. When I had been on for about a year, there was a meeting at the network. They decided to cancel my show. They said, "It's cancelled." Next day they realized they had nothing to put in the 12:30 slot, so we got a reprieve.
Playboy: Were you worried sick? O'Brien: I went into denial. I tried hard not to think, Yes, I'm bad on the air and my show has none of the things a TV show needs to survive. We had no ratings. No critics in our corner. Advertisers didn't like us. Affiliates wanted to drop us. Sometimes I'd meet a programming director from a local station where we had no rating at all. The guy would show me a printout with no number for Late Night's rating, just a hash mark or pound sign. I didn't dare think about that when I went out to do the show.
Playboy: Are you defending denial? O'Brien: How else does anyone get through a terrible experience? The odds were against me. Rationally, I didn't have much chance. Denial was my only friend. When I look back on the first year, it's like a scene from an old war movie: Ordinary guy gets thrown into combat, somehow beats impossible odds, staggers to safety. His buddy say, "You could have been killed!" The guy stops and thinks. "Could have been killed?" he says. His eyes cross and he faints.
Playboy: How did you dodge the bullet? O'Brien: There were people at NBC who stood up for me. I will always be indebted to Don Ohlmeyer, who stuck to his guns. Don said, "We chose this guy. We should stick with him unless we get a better plan." He was brutally honest. He came to me and said, "Give me about a 15 percent bump in the ratings and you'll stay on the air. If not, we're going to move on."
Playboy: Ohlmeyer started his career in the sports division. O'Brien: Exactly, his take was, "You're on our team." Of course, it wasn't exactly rational of Don to hope I'd be 15 percent funnier. It was like telling a farmer, "It better rain this week or we'll take your farm away."
Playboy: What did you say to Ohlmeyer? O'Brien: There wasn't time. I had to go out and do a monologue. But I will always be indebted to Don because he told me the truth. Wait a minute -- you have tricked me into talking lovingly about an NBC executive. Let me say that there were others who were beneath contempt -- executives who wouldn't know a good show if it swam up their asses and lit a campfire.
Playboy: Finally the ratings went your way. Hard work rewarded? O'Brien: Well, I also paid off the Nielsen people. That was $140,000 well spent.
Playboy: Ohlmeyer plus bribery saved you? O'Brien: There was something else. Just when everyone was kicking the crap out of the show, Letterman defended me.
Playboy: Letterman had signed off on NBC saying, "I don't really know Conan O'Brien, but I heard he killed someone." O'Brien: Then I pick up the paper and he's saying he thinks I am going to make it. "They do some interesting, innovative stuff over there," he says. "I think Conan will prevail." And then he came on as a guest. Remember, this was when we were at our nadir. There was no Machiavellian reason for David Letterman, who at the time was the biggest thing in show business, to be on my show.
Playboy: Why did he do it? O'Brien: I'm still not sure. Maybe out of a sense of honor. Fair play. And it woke me up. It made me think. Hey, we have a real fucking television show here.
Of six or seven pivotal points in my short history here, that was the first and maybe the biggest. I wouldn't be sitting here -- I probably wouldn't even exist today -- if he hadn't done our show.
Playboy: The Late Night wars were hardly noted for friendly gestures. O'Brien: How little you understand. Jay, Dave and I pal around all the time. We often ride a bicycle built for three up to the country. "Nice job with Fran Drescher!" "Thanks, pal. You weren't so bad with John Tesh." We sleep in triple-decker bunk beds and snore in unison like the Three Stooges.
Playboy: You talk more about Letterman than your NBC teammate Leno. O'Brien: I hate the "Leno or Letterman, who's better?" question. I can tell you that Jay has been great to me. He calls me occasionally.
Playboy: To say what? O'Brien: (Doing Leno's voice) "Hey, liked that bit you did last night." Or he'll say he saw we got a good rating. I call him at work, too. It can be a strange conversation because we're so different. Jay, for instance, really loves cars. He's got antique cars with kerosene lanterns, cars that run on peat moss. He'll be telling me about some classic car he has, made entirely of brass and leather, and I'll say, "Yeah, man, I got the Taurus with the vinyl." One thing we have in common is bad guests. There are certain actors, celebrities with nothing to say, who move through the talk show world wreaking havoc. They lay waste to Dave's town and Jay's town, then head my way.
Playboy: You must be getting some good guests. Your ratings have shown a marked improvement. O'Brien: Remember, when you're on at 12:30 the Nielsens are based on 80 people. My ratings drop if one person has a head cold and goes to bed early.
Playboy: Actually, you're seen by about 3 million people a night. Your ratings would be even higher if college dorms weren't excluded from the Nielsens. How many points does that cost you? O'Brien: I told you I'm an idiot. Now I have to do math too?
Playboy: Do you still get suggestions from NBC executives? O'Brien: Not as many. The number of notes you get is inversely proportional to your ratings.
Playboy: What keeps you motivated? O'Brien: Superstition. We have a stagehand, Bobby Bowman, who holds up the curtain when I run out for the monologue. He is the last person I see before the show starts, and I have to make him laugh before I go out. It started with mild jabs: "Bobby, you're drunk again." Bobby laughs, "Heehee."" Then it was, "Still having trouble with the wife, Bobby?" But after hundreds of shows, you find yourself running out of lines. It's gotten to where I do crass things at the last second. I'll put his hand on my ass and yell, "You fucking pervert!" Or drop to my knees and say, "Come on, Bobby, I'll give you a blow job!"
"Ha-ha. Conan, you're crazy," he says. But even that stuff wears off. Soon, I'll be making the writers work late to give me new jokes for Bobby.
Playboy: Did you plan to be a talk show host or did you fall into the job? O'Brien: I was an Irish Catholic kid from St. Ignatius parish in Brookline, outside of Boston. And that meant: Don't call attention to yourself. Don't ask for too much when the pie comes around. Don't get a girl pregnant and fuck up your life.
Playboy: Were you an alter boy? O'Brien: I wanted to be an alter boy, but the priest at St. Ignatius said, "No, no. You're good on your feet, kid," and made me a lector. A scripture reader at Mass. He was the one who spotted my talent.
Playboy: What did you think of sex in those days? O'Brien: I was sexually repressed. At 16 I still thought human reproduction was by mitosis.
Playboy: How did you get over your sexual repression? O'Brien: Who says I got over it? My leg has been jiggling this whole time.
Playboy: What were you like in high school? O'Brien: Like a crane galumphing down the hall. A crane with weird hair, bad skin and Clearasil. Big enough for basketball but lousy at it. My older brothers were better. I would compensate by running around the court doing comedy, saying, "Look out, this player has a drug addiction. He's incredibly egotistical."
I was an asshole at home, too. My little brother Justin loved playing cops and robbers, but I kept tying him up with bureaucratic bullshit. When he'd catch me, I'd say, "I get to call my lawyer." Then it was, "OK, Justin, we're at trial and you've been charged with illegal arrest. Fill out these forms in triplicate." Justin was eight; he hated all the lawsuits and countersuits. He just cried.
Playboy: Were you a class clown? O'Brien: Never. I was never someone who walked into a room full of strangers and started telling jokes. You had to get to know me before I could make you laugh. The same thing happened with Late Night. I needed to get the right rhythm with Andy and Max and the audience.
Playboy: So how did you finally learn about sex? O'Brien: My parents gave me a book, but it was useless. At the crucial moment, all it showed was a man and a woman with the bed covers pulled up to their chins. I tried to find out more from friends, but it didn't help. One childhood friend told me it was like parking a car in a garage. I kept worrying about poisonous fumes. What if the fumes build up? Should you shut off the engine?
Playboy: For all your talk about being repressed, you can be rowdy on the air. O'Brien: The show is my escape valve. When I tear off my shirt and gyrate my pelvis like Robert Plant, feigning orgasm into the microphone, that shows how repressed I am -- a guy who wants to push his sex at the lens but can only do it as a joke.
Playboy: Aren't you tempted to live it up? O'Brien: I always imagined that if I were a TV star I would live the way I pictured Johnny Carson living. Carousing, stepping out of a limo wearing a velvet ascot with a model on my arm. Now that I have the TV show, I drive up to Connecticut on the weekends and tool around in my car. I could probably join a free-sex cult, smoke crack between orgies and drive sports cars into swimming pools, and my Catholic guilt would still be there, throbbing like a toothache. Be careful. If something good happens, something bad is on the way.
Playboy: Yet you don't mind licking the supermodels. O'Brien: At one point a few of them lived in my building, women who are so beautiful they almost look weird, like aliens. To me, a woman who has a certain approachable amount of beauty becomes almost funny. It's the same with male supermodels. They look like big puppets. So while I admire their beauty I probably won't be "romantically linked" with a model. I'd catch my reflection in a ballroom mirror and break up laughing.
Playboy: The horny Roy Orbison growl you use on gorgeous guests sounds real enough -- O'Brien: Oh, I've been doing that shit since high school. It just never worked before.
Playboy: Your father is a doctor, your mother an attorney. What do they think of their son the comedian? O'Brien: My dad was the one who told me denial was a virtue. "Denial is how people get through horrible things," he said. He also cut out a newspaper article in which I said I was making money off something for which I should probably be treated. So true, he thought. But when I got an Emmy for helping write Saturday Night Live, my parents put it on the mantel next to the crucifix. Here's Jesus looking over, saying, "Wow, I saved mankind from sin, but I wish I had an Emmy."
Playboy: Ever been in therapy? O'Brien: Yes. I don't trust it. I have told therapists that I don't particularly want to feel good. "Repression and fear, that's my fuel." But the therapists said that I had nothing to worry about. "Don't worry Conan you will always be plenty fucked up."
Playboy: When a female guest comes out, how do you know whether to shake her hand or kiss her? Is that rehearsed O'Brien: No, and it's awkward. If you go to shake her hand and her head starts coming right at you, you have to change strategy fast. I have thought about using the show to make women kiss me, but that would probably creep out the people at home. I decided not to kiss Elton John.
Playboy: Do you get all fired up if Cindy Crawford or Rebecca Romijn does the show? O'Brien: I like making women laugh. Always have, ever since I discovered you can get girls' attention by acting like an ass. That's one of the joys of the show -- I'm working my eyebrows and going grrr and she's laughing, the audience is laughing. It's all a big put-on and I'm thinking. This is great. Here is a beautiful woman who has no choice but to put up with this shit.
But it's not always put on. Sometimes they flirt back. Sometimes there's a bit of chemistry. That happened with Jennifer Connelly of The Rocketeer.
Playboy: One guest, Jill Hennessy, took off her pants for you. Then you removed yours. Even Penn and Teller took off their pants. O'Brien: Something comes over me. It happened with Rebecca Romijn -- I was practically climbing her. Those are the times when Andy and the audience seem to disappear and it's just me and this lovely woman sitting there flirting. I keep expecting a waiter to say, "More wine, Monsieur?"
Playboy: Would you lick the wine bottle? O'Brien: It's true, there's a lot of licking on the show. I have licked guests. I have licked Andy. Comedy professionals will read this and say, "Great work, Conan. Impressive." But I have learned that if you lick a guest, people laugh. If I pick this shoe off the floor, examine it, Hmmm, and then lick it, people laugh. I learned this lesson on The Simpsons, where I was the writer who was forever trying to entertain the other writers. I still try desperately to make our writers laugh, which is probably a sign of sickness since they work for me now. Licking is one of those things that look funny.
Playboy: Johnny Carson never licked Ed McMahon. O'Brien: We are much more physical and more stupid than the old Tonight Show. Even in our offices before the show there's always some writer acting out a scene crashing his head through my door. A behind-the-scenes look at our show might frighten people.
Playboy: One night you showed a doctored photo of Craig T. Nelson having sex with Jerry Van Dyke. Did they complain about it? O'Brien: I haven't heard from them. Of course I'm blessed not to be a part of the celebrity pond. I have a television show in New York, an NBC outpost. I don't run with or even run into many Hollywood people.
Playboy: You also announced that Tori Spelling has a penis. O'Brien: I did not. Polly the Peacock said that.
Playboy: Another character you use to say the outrageous stuff. O'Brien: Polly is not popular with the network.
Playboy: You mock Fabio, too. O'Brien: If he sues me, it'll be the best thing that ever happened. A publicity bonanza: Courtroom sketches of Fabio with his man-boobs quivering, shaking his fist, and me shouting at him across the courtroom. I'm not afraid of Fabio. He knows where to find me. I'm saying it right here for the record: Fabio, let's get it on.
Playboy: Ever have a run-in with an angry celeb? O'Brien: I did a Kelsey Grammar joke a few years ago, something about his interesting lifestyle, then heard through the network that he was upset. He had appeared on my show and expected some support. At this point my intellect says, "Kelsey Grammar is a public figure. I was in the right." Then I saw him in an airport. Kelsey didn't see me at first: I could have kept walking. But there he was, eating a cruller in the airport lounge. I thought I should go over. I said hello and then said, "Kelsey, I'm sorry if I upset you." And he was glad. He looked relieved. He said, "Oh, that's OK." We both felt better.
....See my other post with the last third of the interview

At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.
Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.
[Previous Chapter][Patreon][Cover Art]
The last few notes of a Roxy Rocket song echoed through Vell’s dorm, and while scrappy and dissonant, they were at least coherent. An improvement from early lessons, especially.
“Well, that didn’t hurt to listen to,” Skye said. “You’re making progress.”
“You have such a way with words,” Vell said.
“Okay, fine,” Skye said. “You’re actually making good progress for a guy who only finds time to practice every couple weeks.”
The ever-encroaching responsibilities of being a senior, the leader of the loopers, and the focus of a godly game of fate had whittled Vell’s free time down to almost nothing. The occasional guitar lessons were some of his only islands amid the storm, and a welcome excuse to spend more time with Skye.
“You want to try a few more chords?”
“My hands are starting to hurt, actually,” Vell said. He pulled away from the guitar strings and shook tense fingers loose, revealing fingertips rubbed red and raw by practice. Skye stepped forward and took him by the wrist to examine his hands.
“I do not understand how a guy like you doesn’t have thicker skin,” Skye said. “Weren’t you an actual cowboy for a while? You did rodeos and everything.”
“I wore gloves,” Vell said.
“And for the rest of the weird shit you’ve done in your life?”
Vell took a long pause.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Vell said. “Good genes, I guess.”
“I’m not complaining, mind you, I just think-”
A loud dinging sound from Skye’s purse interrupted the conversation, and she released her grip on Vell to go answer her phone. Vell recognized those familiar chimes as the Dad Ringtone. While most contacts were set to vibrate, Skye’s father and a few other lucky high-priority contacts got their own ringtones. Vell was lucky enough to have his ringtone set to the theme song of a cartoon Skye had loved as a kid, but played at a much lower volume than the Dad Ringtone. Skye’s father didn’t call often, and when he did it was usually about something important, so she wanted to be sure to never miss a call.
“Hey dad,” Skye began. “No, now’s fine. What’s up?”
Vell set his guitar back on the shelf and relaxed while Skye continued the call.
“No, no, that’d be fine, great, even,” Skye said. “He might be a little busy, but- What?”
Skye’s delight and talking to her father shifted to mild concern.
“Dad we kind of need to- no, not tomorrow, dad,” Skye said. “Dad!”
A long silence followed as Skye held the phone frozen by her ear for a short time. She tucked it back into her purse, took a deep breath, and clapped her hands together as she spun to face Vell.
“So, good news, you’re going to get to meet my dad,” Skye squeaked.
“And the bad news?”
“Well, part one of the bad news is that it’s going to happen tomorrow,” Skye said. Vell would’ve like a little more notice, but that was far from disastrous. Part two was still waiting, though. “And part two is that I kind of maybe didn’t do a very good job describing the nature of our relationship, and he sort of a little bit thinks you’re...a hero.”
Vell waited for a part three, and there was none.
“Is that the bad news?” Vell scoffed. “I might let him down a little, but there’s worse things my girlfriend’s dad could think of me.”
“Yeah there’s definitely a few upsides, be sure to hold on to those,” Skye said. “But also, you know how I flunked out of mad scientist school?”
“Yeah?”
“Well my dad...didn’t.”
***
“Your girlfriend’s dad is a supervillain?”
“Former supervillain,” Vell corrected. He adjusted the suit coat he’d just put on. “He left the game after she was born and went white hat, now he only builds death rays and robot armies so relevant authorities can observe, learn, and prepare for the real deal.”
Having a genuine mad scientist to train with helped keep secret agents and spies ready for actual threats, and Skye’s father got to keep doing what he loved: threatening to blow up the world.
“Are you still really a supervillain if you don’t actually do any villain shit?” Hawke wondered aloud. “Isn’t he just sort a supertrainer? What would you call that?”
“I’d call it asinine,” Alex said. “We shouldn’t be condoning this behavior, much less inviting him to build a death ray on our campus.”
The Einstein-Odinson had been selected as the faux-mad scientist’s next testing ground, and due to a misunderstanding of his role on campus, Vell had been selected as his testing partner. He had to put on a tuxedo and everything, to better fit the classic secret agent trope Skye’s father was envisioning.
“Mad scientists are an important part of the scientific ecosystem,” Helena said.
“You’d know,” Samson muttered under his breath.
“Conflict breeds innovation,” Helena continued, either heedless to or deliberately ignoring his snide comment. “The arc of history requires both heroes and villains.”
“Yeah, well, as far as villains go, I prefer mine to be weird old dads with fake death rays,” Kim said. “Still, Vell, doesn’t it feel kind of weird that he doesn’t actually know you’re dating his daughter?”
“It’s fine,” Vell insisted. “It’s always awkward trying to talk to your parents about your relationship, and she just over-focused on me saving the day and helping people. Simple miscommunication.”
“And when are you resolving that miscommunication?”
“Later,” Vell said. “Skye and her dad don’t get to spend much time together anymore. They’ll take the day, and we’ll get this all sorted out later.”
A life of volcano lairs, alpine bases, and remote tropical islands did not exactly make it easy for Skye to keep up with her dad, so having him concoct a scheme right on her home turf was a good way for the two of them to spend time together. Right now, Vell’s only priority was allowing for some healthy father-daughter bonding time. And also preventing the apocalypse.
“Okay, I’m good to go,” Vell said, as he finished up the knot in his bow-tie. “Hawke, ready on comms?”
“Mission control good to go, Agent Harlan,” Hawke said. He enjoyed any apocalyptic arrangement that allowed him to stay safely behind a chair, but playing mission control was especially fun.
“Good. Samson, you’re on tech duty,” Vell said. “The rest of you, keep an eye on the island. There’s no guarantee our supervillain will actually end the world. Which feels like a weird thing to say.”
Big events usually invited big catastrophes, and a literal supervillain seemed like a prime spark for some apocalyptic fire, but Vell was not so sure. He couldn’t think of anything less likely to actually end the world than a deliberate attempt to do so. All the loopers agreed having some backup eyes on other potential disasters might be warranted.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Alex said. She was the first to leave, everyone else filtered into their respective roles to play soon enough. Samson walked alongside Vell as he left the lair.
“Hey, do I have to put up the whole mission control act like Hawke was doing?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Vell said. “Play it up a little if Skye’s dad is around, maybe, but like, right now we can just talk normally.”
“Okay, cool. Got your shit right here,” Samson said, as he hefted a large bag of gadget. “Standard spy bullshit. Gizmo watch, secret cufflink radios, pen with a concealed laser cutter, got it all right here.”
“Thanks,” Vell said. “Where’d you find all this stuff?”
“I just asked,” Samson said with a shrug. “Island full of supergenius weirdos, most of them had this kind of stuff just lying around.”
“Convenient. Did you make a list of everyone you got this stuff from?”
“So we can keep an eye on them? Yeah.”
“So I can give it back later,” Vell corrected. “But yeah, actually, knowing about the laser pen guy might be a good idea.”
“We’ll know where to start with any laser-based apocalypses,” Samson said.
“Good instinct,” Vell said. The two of them walked out of the building and towards the docks. “Am I walking weird? I’ve never worn a tux before.”
“Little stiff, but I think it’s working in your favor. You look more serious.”
“Great, thanks,” Vell said. He stepped up to the edge of the docks and strapped on his gadget watch before checking the time on it. “Should be here soon.”
“You need me to stick around?”
“No, you’re good,” Vell said. “Thanks for the help.”
Samson excused himself before the chaos started in full. Vell felt like an idiot standing around in a tux for a minute or two, until he was joined by someone in an equally odd outfit. Skye joined him in waiting on the docks, wearing a dress with long sleeves and a short skirt over sparkling tights and some very high-heeled boots.
“Very gogo dancer,” Vell said.
“Yeah, dad’s really into that whole Cold War era 60’s style,” Skye said. “Apparently this is what a ‘proper villainess’ looks like to him.”
“Could be worse, could be the catsuit kind of female villain.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Skye said. “Every time he took me to work conferences I had to watch grown women try to waddle around in pleather bodysuits.”
“Supervillains have conferences?”
“Oh yeah, surprisingly good ones,” Skye said. “Especially if you’re a little girl who likes genetically engineered sharks.”
“Oh, so that’s where you got your start.”
Skye nodded. Her penchant for genetic engineering had struck at an early age. Her father had initially been excited for her to get into the family business, but it turned out Skye just liked fucking with fish DNA, and didn’t have much skill in all the non-genetic engineering parts of mad science. He was proud of her anyway.
After shifting on uncomfortably high heels for the umpteenth time, Skye checked her phone and texted her father.
“He says he’s pulling up right now,” Skye said. Vell scanned the horizon and saw nothing coming across the ocean.
“Is he at the right-”
Vell was cut off, and forced to step back, as the ocean started to churn. The waves parted to reveal a jet-black submarine with a towering, jagged skull carved into the prow.
“Oh, right, supervillain,” Vell said.
The imposing submersible drifted to a halt, and a hatched on the side hissed open. Red lights beamed out from the darkness within, and a few seconds later, an armored killbot marched down a boarding ramp, flanked by a towering man in a long white labcoat. He had a jagged streak of black through his otherwise gray hair, and wore heavy glasses with thick black lenses that obscured his gaze and shadowed his face.
“Hi dad,” Skye said.
“Hello dear,” said the man behind the murder machine. He stepped off the boarding ramp onto the dock, as another killbot exited to flank him, and fixed his dark glasses on Vell. “And as for you...I am Doc-”
“Doc” stopped his imposing introduction to have a coughing fit. Skye stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, did you take your meds today?”
“I did, I did,” the Doc said, between coughs. “Just a climate thing. I got on the damn submarine in Seattle, now we’re in the tropics, there’s pressure differentials, humidity.”
He let out a few more coughs and then cleared his throat loudly, before regaining his previous composure.
“Now, as I was saying,” he continued. “I am Doc Ragnarok!”
His boisterous shout failed to echo in the open air of the docks.
“Oh, good lord, that was terrible,” Doc Ragnarok said. “Can I try again?”
“I wouldn’t bother,” Vell said. “We’re by the beach, open air, the acoustics are terrible.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Doc Ragnarok agreed. “Finally, someone who appreciates the details. You must be Vell, then, or is it Agent Harlan? Do you have a codename I should be using?’
“It’s just Harlan. Vell Harlan.”
“Yes, Skye has told me quite a bit about you,” Doc said. “You’ve escaped kidnapping attempts, outwitted undead thieves, stolen secret treasures.”
“Oh, he’s, uh, also a really nice guy, very helpful, top student,” Skye said, laying groundwork for the eventual boyfriend reveal.
“I expect nothing less,” Doc Ragnarok said. “I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to face off against someone with real credentials again, Mr. Harlan. For the past few decades it’s been nothing but greenhorns using me as a test run, well-trained but no experience, no sense of style.”
“Well, I am nothing if not experienced,” Vell said. “Stylish, however...well, this tuxedo is a rental.”
“I can tell,” Doc Ragnarok said. He let out a single boisterous bark of delighted laughter. “Ah, look at us, already bantering. I missed this.’
Doc cleared his throat again and regained his ominous supervillain demeanor, as he snapped his fingers to make the killbots flank him.
“I must begin my preparations,” he said, in a voice shockingly distinct from his earlier conversational tone. “Challenge me if you dare.”
“Excuse me a moment,” said a voice somewhere behind the killbots. Doc snapped his fingers, ordering the crowd to part again, and Helena hopped forward on her crutches. Skye glanced at Vell curiously, and he shrugged in confusion. She wasn’t supposed to be here, for multiple reasons.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I was just reading your book earlier, ‘Practically Evil: A Guide to Classic Villainy’,” Helena said. “It’s a great read, but what really stood out to me is the section on classic henchman archetypes, specifically ‘The Igor’?”
She held up the book in question, which Vell noted had a picture of Doc Ragnarok holding a skull on the cover, and opened it to the section in question.
“Oh yes, I understand, completely,” Doc Ragnarok said. “As I said in the section opener, that information is presented for historical context, and I strongly condemn the typecasting of differently-abled persons like yourself into such roles. Regardless of my intent, I’m sorry if I caused any offense, and if you have feedback-”
“Oh, no, you misunderstand, I’m not offended, I’m actually intrigued,” Helena said. She turned the book around to quote a specific passage. “‘An outcast, often hunchbacked or otherwise misshapen in such a way to make them a pariah, physically handicapped but mentally gifted, driven to evil by the harsh treatment of judgmental peers’. I think it’s a very fitting role for me, and I’d love to give it a try.”
Vell had several very strong opinions about that, but kept all of them to himself.
“Well, it’s a bit short notice, but I’ll never discourage anyone from following the path of evil,” Doc Ragnarok said. “And this is a training exercise, after all, perfect time for you to train. Come along, minion! The more the merrier!”
Doc Ragnarok snapped his fingers again, and the killbots fell in line, this time with Helena in tow. A procession of smaller robots followed, carrying a worrying number of power cores, ray guns, and mutagens. Not for the first time, Vell began to wonder if this was a good idea. The recurring doubts got obliterated as Skye looked over her shoulder and winked. She was worth a lot more trouble than this.

Hey guys, I wrote this short story maybe like 6 or 7 years ago and randomly found it it my notes today and thought it'd be fun to share. I might have posted this back in the day on the Destiny forums, but I don't think I ever finished it. Anyways, let me know what you think. For the record, for all the new lights, this is back when the game didn't have infinite primary ammo.
The cracks in the wall seeped a pungent smell, but the cloaked figure knelt close to it, even still. The growls and snarls of countless beasts echoed through the dark caverns making it difficult to pinpoint where they were coming from. The hunter reached for the pack that was on the floor beside her and gently opened it to reveal three freshly sharpened throwing knives. "Damn it," she mumbled to herself as she sheathed the knives into her left gauntlet, "I could've sworn that I had at least a few more then this... I guess this is what happens when you have to stop the Hive from carving that damn Warlock into pieces." She threw the pack aside and pulled out her hand cannon. The darkness pressed against her skull and made it difficult to see, but she could tell that she had at least enough bullets for two full clips. She took a deep breath and gripped the hand cannon tightly. There was a brief pause in her movement as she activated her stealth cloak, and then she was off.
She had to make it back to the surface, and hopefully she would regroup with her fireteam before getting the hell out of this damp cavernous hole that they had gotten themselves stuck in. She turned a corner and could just barely make out a set of stairs crudely carved into the moon rock. At the base of the stairs stood two thralls growling at each other. The hunter had always wondered if these creatures could communicate, or if they were as stupid as they looked. She smiled to herself at the thought of the two Thrall having some sort of deep philosophical discussion and let loose a knife just as her stealth cloak dissipated. The knife hit the closer of the two Thralls square between the eyes and she felt the blade immediately return to her gauntlet. She always fancied herself more of a gunslinger type, but knew that if she wanted to be one of the best hunters the Traveler had ever risen, she would need to learn the art of blade dancing as well. The seamless transition between the two types of skill sets is what had earned her the moniker "the fierce." As the Thrall crumbled to the ground, the other looked towards the hunter and its eyes momentarily shone through the darkness as it locked on to the figure that was closing the distance between them at a full sprint. There might have been a fleeting instance where the Thrall had thought to attack, but it never got a chance as the hunters machete sliced clean through its throat.
Without letting up for a moment, the hunter continued to dash up the stairs, and after what seemed like a solid minute she reached a plateau and quickly hid behind a boulder. The ground was littered with the corpses of Fallen soldiers and a Dreg laying on the ground not far from her hiding spot, locked eyes with her and feebly tried to gurgle out some sort of warning to the others that surrounded it. Or perhaps it was a plea for help, she couldn't tell. Out of the inky shadows a blade suddenly appeared and crashed down on the Dregs chest. The Hive knight that wielded the blade retrieved its weapon and walked back into the darkness. The hunter surveyed the plateau carefully and measured her options. She couldn't see more then a few Hive creatures roaming around, but it had suddenly gotten too quiet. She could most definitely fight her way to the next set of stairs, but with the limited amount of bullets she had left and with other knights most likely hiding just out of sight, it would be more then a little difficult.
Her fireteam had received intelligence that the Fallen were planning on attacking the Hive in their own home, and they had decided to use that opportunity to sneak in and kill a pesky Wizard named Azanok that had been causing trouble for the Guardians in the surrounding regions of the moon. The Wizards ashes were now spewn across the walls of a cavern many levels lower then where the hunter stood now. Their mission was successful, but what they had not counted on was the feeble forces that the Fallen had sent in to compete with the Hive. The bodies that were spread across the floor were a testament to how grossly the Fallen had underestimated the power that the Hive had in their own home. Sneaking into the cave systems was easy enough, but after killing the Wizard, the trio of Guardians had realized that the Fallen had already been taken care of. In a mad dash to escape, the hunter had gotten separated from her Titan and Warlock companions.
The hunter once again tensed her body and she felt her stealth cloak activate. Sneaking past the enemies here was the wiser move. She ran across the plateau as fast she could making sure to hop over any Fallen that were spread across the ground. As she was about to reach the stairs however, she saw a knight appear out of the surrounding shadows. She stopped herself from full dash and skid across the floor stopping mere feet from where the knight stood. The knight cocked its head and looked straight past her. The dust that had risen from her skid seemed to have caught its attention. It looked there for a brief moment longer and when it couldn't see anything turned to continue to walk. The hunter was just about to let out a sigh of relief when she heard the familiar static like noise of her stealth cloak turning off. Suddenly she heard a deafening screech from behind her as a group of Thrall caught sight of her. The knight immediately turned back and its many eyes focused in on the hunter. "Damn it all to hell and back," the hunter thought to herself. Immediately she jumped off to her right side and took cover behind a crumbled stone pillar. The Hive knight was making a break for her and so she pulled out her hand cannon and shot two bullets straight into its head which caused it to stagger backwards. It looked near dead and so she threw one of her knives towards the knights head. The dizzied knight went to dodge out of the way and the knife clipped its hand. Apparently that pain was all it could handle because it reeled over and crashed to the floor. The hunter made a little mental note to herself, "that was embarrassing. If I get out of this, need to practice one hundred throwing knives straight to the head. I don't do non precision shots..." She however, didn't have time to berate herself for much longer because the screeching in the room intensified. A mass of Thrall started to flood in from every direction and she shot them clean in the head, one after another. She emptied the casings from her gun and and put in her last few remaining bullets. She looked back over the pillar and her eyes widened; the room was now filled to the brim with Thrall and there was no end in sight. Just as she was considering the fact that she might not make it out alive, she heard a familiar and soothing voice from the distance.
From above her she saw a figure leap into the air and release a hail of void energy straight down into the mass of Thrall, and as though it had always been this way, they all ceased to exist. A warlock landed straight into the center and looked towards the hunter. The hunter looked at the onyx helm of the warlock and without a second thought made a dash towards him. Just as she was about to get to him, another figure leaped in from the top of the stairs and just as she was about to go past them, willed herself to stop in the air and crashed down next to the warlock and hunter. She extended her arms straight across and suddenly the three figures were enveloped in a titan bubble. The warlock turned towards the hunter and started to boom, "you didn't think we'd leave you did you? We leave no one behind, even though no doubt you've been talking a whole mess of crap about me." The hunter smiled underneath her helm and said, "you know what they say about warlocks... they suck!" The Titan let out a little chuckle and the warlock tilted his head a bit. "C'mon, that's not even clever. If you're gonna say something about warlocks, at least try and make it a little clever." The titan looked back towards the warlock and exclaimed, "nah, I think you suck is pretty on point." The warlock went to reply, but instead just sighed. The hunter gave him a little punch to the shoulder and jokingly said, "aww, you know we love you, despite your clear... deficiencies."
The titan suddenly turned towards them and cut the conversation off. "Guys, this isn't exactly the best time for this, I'm sure it can wait." The hunter and warlock looked around and suddenly realized that they were now surrounded by almost as many thralls as before and the only thing that was holding them back was the void residue of the warlocks Nova Bomb, that was now starting to dissipate. From within the caves, the familiar screech of a wizard echoed. The titan turned around, "just great..."

Yesterday at 10:24 am, I received the news that I knew was coming, but I refused to accept it. My little girl has gone to a better place. To say that I am devastated is an understatement, and to say that I will miss her falls short.
For 16 years, I had the privilege of waking up every day next to such a pure and noble being. She was there during the best moments of my life and the worst. She accompanied me from my room to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the backyard, to the dining room, when I studied, cried, and laughed.
During those 16 years, I truly understood what it means to love unconditionally. I was fortunate to experience the warmth and affection that only a pet can provide: selfless, unwavering, and pure.
I grew up alongside my best friend: a little ball of long black, white, and brown fur. The same fur that, from excessive grooming, sometimes made her vomit. The fur that clung to my clothes, and I had to clean it. Just like the times I forgot to take her out to the backyard, and she had an accident indoors, or when I had to clean my hands after playing with her scratches.
I consider myself lucky to have lived my entire life alongside such a loyal companion. Today, I say goodbye with tears in my eyes and a pain that feels like it will consume me. It’s as if my soul has been torn away, and I don’t know what to do.
I’ll miss waking up to warm little paws, scratching at my door to come into my room in the middle of the night. I’ll miss her following me to the kitchen, those huge yellow-green eyes silently pleading for a treat. I’ll miss seeing her sleep under the banana tree in the backyard or on the chairs, even on the dining table. I’ll miss lying down to watch TikTok with her nestled in my arms or coming home to find her asleep on my bed.
I fear forgetting her purring, her meows, her unique coat pattern, and her elegant way of walking. I’m afraid that slowly, her fur won’t appear on my clothes anymore. I’m afraid I won’t be able to escape this overwhelming sadness that feels like it might consume me.
My dear Maggie, I apologize for not being by your side in your final moments. I prayed to life and to God to grant me that last wish. But what more could I ask for? I was blessed with a life by your side. Thank you, thank you, and thank you for allowing me to be your friend. You’ll forever be a part of me.
With love, my beloved Maggie.

Yesterday at 10:24 am, I received the news that I knew was coming, but I refused to accept it. My little girl has gone to a better place. To say that I am devastated is an understatement, and to say that I will miss her falls short.
For 16 years, I had the privilege of waking up every day next to such a pure and noble being. She was there during the best moments of my life and the worst. She accompanied me from my room to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the backyard, to the dining room, when I studied, cried, and laughed.
During those 16 years, I truly understood what it means to love unconditionally. I was fortunate to experience the warmth and affection that only a pet can provide: selfless, unwavering, and pure.
I grew up alongside my best friend: a little ball of long black, white, and brown fur. The same fur that, from excessive grooming, sometimes made her vomit. The fur that clung to my clothes, and I had to clean it. Just like the times I forgot to take her out to the backyard, and she had an accident indoors, or when I had to clean my hands after playing with her scratches.
I consider myself lucky to have lived my entire life alongside such a loyal companion. Today, I say goodbye with tears in my eyes and a pain that feels like it will consume me. It’s as if my soul has been torn away, and I don’t know what to do.
I’ll miss waking up to warm little paws, scratching at my door to come into my room in the middle of the night. I’ll miss her following me to the kitchen, those huge yellow-green eyes silently pleading for a treat. I’ll miss seeing her sleep under the banana tree in the backyard or on the chairs, even on the dining table. I’ll miss lying down to watch TikTok with her nestled in my arms or coming home to find her asleep on my bed.
I fear forgetting her purring, her meows, her unique coat pattern, and her elegant way of walking. I’m afraid that slowly, her fur won’t appear on my clothes anymore. I’m afraid I won’t be able to escape this overwhelming sadness that feels like it might consume me.
My dear Maggie, I apologize for not being by your side in your final moments. I prayed to life and to God to grant me that last wish. But what more could I ask for? I was blessed with a life by your side. Thank you, thank you, and thank you for allowing me to be your friend. You’ll forever be a part of me.
With love, my beloved Maggie.

OOOH. I was SO excited for these! I got an 8 pack sampler set (which they have a REALLY cool system where you can pretty much get as many samples as you like, and aren't limited to a 5 pack). They came in while I was away on a trip, so thankfully I got to skip a week waiting period and get to them after they had settled a bit, to try them out. Great TAT from this house (got them in within a week or two) AND you got to pick which Freebie you wanted, which was so awesome!
My review of this scent house so far: 4/5. It would honestly be a 5/5, but for that they have such a short wear period on my skin. Pretty much every 2 hours, I'd have to reapply :/ But, pretty much every single scent was really great and accurate to their scent descriptions, and I'll probably still FS buy a few!
Just make sure to slightly mix these guys up by turning them up and down a couple times (not so fast that you create air bubbles), to make sure the scent is fully mixed. You'll read in my notes, some of my first impressions when I Didn't do that. Don't make my mistake lol
My Rating System:
1/5: In my opinion this scent just smells really bad. I am not interested in the least. It is NOT my cup of tea and I would actively run away if I smelled it on someone else
2/5: Eh, it smells more like a scent for a cleaner or laundry detergent or maybe just a room scent. Not a perfume/cologne for me
3/5: Not my cup of tea, but It's well balanced and I could see someone else wearing it! Just not me lol
4/5: Almost perfect, just missing a scent note or two, or doesn't last very long, or dries down powdery/weirdly
5/5: I love this scent and will definitely be wearing it, if not FS-ing it!
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Cottagecore No. 1:
Official scent description: It is a warm and inviting blend of blueberry cobbler, wood burning stove, and spice cabinet. It starts off sweet with a buttery rich crust and fresh picked blueberry cobbler. A whisp of spices cut through to break up the sugars. There's a background of smoke, musk and burning wood that lingers in the background but really comes to life on the dry down. The sweetness fades to meet merrily in a dance of oud wood, smoke, spice and cobbler. Feels like a cottage in the woods on a warm summer day after picking berries all morning. A fresh cobbler in the wood burning and comfort in your soul. A gender neutral scent that anyone can enjoy.
Top- buttery crust, cinnamon, incense
Middle- blueberry, brown sugar, wood smoke
Bottom- vanilla bean, oud, musk, amber
My review: Straight out the bottle, it is pure blueberry cobbler, but as it dries, it gets weirdly perfume-y? Very quickly, too. You still get the hints of blueberry, but this powdery note kinda overtakes it all.
After a little bit the powder dies down and do you get more of the buttery crust blueberry cobbler, but this one may not be my cup of tea, sadly :/
2/5
**after about 10 minutes the blueberry pops back up to a mix of spices and blueberries that I actually like! 3 or 4/5. I do wish it had a bit more blueberry throw AND didn't have that weird powdery burst at the first dry down. A very fruity comforting fall scent, I think. Yeah, I really like it for a fruity fall scent**
**UPDATE*\*
I had to try this one a second time after that initial review. Just to try it after shaking it lightly, just a bit, to mix.
Wet I absolutely love this scent. It's giving start of fall and you're making blueberry pie or cobbler and it's spiced with fall spices and you even scraped out some authentic vanilla beans for the recipe and I actually don't get that weird strong powdery note at all! So, definitely make sure to turn samples from this house a time or two, to make sure everything is mixed, but not so much that there are air bubbles. After about 30 or so minutes it dries down to autumn cooking spices, mainly, with mainly a hint of a fruity scent. Still lovely though!
4.5 /5 it would be 5, but pretty much all the scents from this house go poof very quickly on me. All trace of it leaves my skin by 2.5/3 hours
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MIDNIGHT CIRCUS
This one was my freebie. My brother and I are putting on a type of Dark Karnival -esque camping event this fall and I really wanted to get a scent to wear there lol
Official scent description: a dark yet lively experience of caramel popcorn, fire, lacquer floorboards and whimsy
Top- hickory, honey, incense, cinnamon
Middle- smoke, amyris, caramel, salt, praline, spice
Bottom- cedarwood, moss, oud, olibanum, amber, musk, leather, popcorn, butter, vanilla
My review: This smells exactly like you're walking around a fall carnival with a big bonfire going on in the middle. Essentially it smells like your favorite fall candle scent, but just a bit more complex with the wiffs of campfire smoke and cedarwood in there. Even though it's the end of May, I sniff it on my wrist and think it's gonna be chilly outside. That feeling you get when the seasons are changing.
Strongest notes on me: wood smoke (though I wish I got more hickory to it), spices (cinnamon mainly), carameled buttery popcorn, vanilla and maybe the honey, maybe praline? It all blends very nicely into a great, if slightly generic, fall scent
Notes I don't get at all: leather, moss, oud. Those are the notes that would probably make this perfectly complex, but I just don't get them out of it. It's pure fall gourmand. I'll probably layer this over a scent that has those notes and need sweetening
Enough of a throw that I get a wiff going about my day
last drydown: dries down to autumn spices, essentially. Reminds me of walking in Gatlinburg in the fall, through all the little shops nestled in the mountain amongst the autumn trees. Completely gone within 3 hours though
4/5
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BLACK HONEY
Official Description: Black Honey is a sultry blend of Spiced Honey, black amber, cedarwood, tonka, and tobacco leaf.
My Review:
I like it! I just don't LOVE it :/
The spiced honey notes in this, wet straight on my skin, are my favorite parts, though there is a weird 'Clean' note behind it as an undertone. Maybe it's the black Amber or the tonka. I've been running down a dead note for myself and one of those might be the one. The strong Clean note blends back down into the other notes, after a bit, though. But, going back to it after about 30 minutes, it does still smell very 'clean' smelling. Like, I showered with a dark spiced honey shower soap.
Sadly, I think honey may just be a note so good note for me. So far, it always goes soapy/clean on me :/ I'm hoping it's not just the Honey note in particular, and more just an underlying note or two that generally gets paired with Honey. Otherwise, honey may be a dead note for me :/
Long drydown: it smells like I just stepped into a specialty soap shop. The ones where they sell soaps, beeswax, and honey. And by afternoon my skin just smelled lightly sweet from it. Not my favorite for most days, but maybe on occasion, or to layer in a honey note to my darker more witchy scents
3.5/5 *sigh* I really just want a dark spicy Gourmand honey. Can anyone give me any suggestions for that?? a Honey scent that DOESN'T dry down clean and powdery??
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Haunted Library
Official description: This scent will transport you to an old Victorian library. With ceiling high wooden book shelves, Creaky floorboards, leather bound books covered in a blanket of dust, fragile yellowing pages, and musty tufted chairs. Wafting through it all is the scent of sweet tobacco- the scent of the spirit that haunts these walls.
Top- Teakwood, tonka
Middle- cedar, leather, sweet tobacco, molasses
Bottom- sandalwood, Patchouli, mahogany, dark musk
My Review: a VERY light scent. Wow. Make sure you turn up and down a bit to really make sure the scent is fully blended, cause I could Barely smell it out of the bottle. It's a bit Cleaner than what I think a haunted library would really smell like. But, maybe like a lady ghosts' personal library? Overlooking the sea maybe? It weirdly gives off Cape Cod/Northeast coast/maine vibes to me. Like a Ladies Library in a Newport mansion.
I'm generally more of a sweet fruity over complex herbally scent person, or really cool gourmand scents, but I actually really like this scent! I have no clue in what instance I'd wear it, but I really do like it. I'll probably use it to give a tea or vanilla scent more complexity, or after wearing them, maybe even layering it with Stains of scarlet (down below). I don't get too much of the individual notes, but they all blend Very nicely for a femme leaning unisex scent!
As it dried the dust notes got sharper and the molasses got brought out more. First out the bottle, the wood and pachouli notes are a bit stronger. I still don't really get any leather though. My kingdom for a good strong leather scent! Lol. This is like a dainty haunted library, haunted by one of the Bridgerton ladies lol. Sweet, slightly dusty and papery, with a light hint of nostalgia and faded sweet perfume….Oh my goodness, this is Eloise's scent lol, to a T
4/5 only really because it's not really my vibe and this scent house goes poof too fast on me. All the scents from this house poof in about 2.5/3 hours
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White Magic
Official description: White magic is an herbaceous blend of sage, lavender, incense and eucalyptus. The sage, lavender and eucalyptus are balanced equally where the incense is more of a background player here. This blend feels clean and comfortable and wears beautifully. Sage can be an off-putting smell to some put it is added subtly to not shine over the lavender. It rings to me, as a comforting freshness that I can't get enough of. This is a gender neutral scent.
Top- lavender, bergamot, pine needles, eucalyptus
Middle- chamomile, sage, camphor, rosemary, pepper
Bottom- Cedar, Sandalwood, incense, Orris root, amber
My thoughts: First out the bottle my first thought was YES!!!!!! Finally a lavender scent that doesn't smell powdery or like laundry soap! It does smell a wee bit Clean, but I think that's more the nature of any scent with these scent notes, since they're used in cleaning supplies and soaps so often. But, this scent is a Super green floral. No powdery note to my nose at all! (and I pull powder like CRAZY lol, it's been a problem for me since I hate powdery scents). This scent transports me to a spa shop full of fresh drying Eucalyptus, sage, and lavender. By the last drydown, the Eucalyptus is the strongest note
4.5 out of 5, only because this scent house goes poof too fast on me. All the scents from this house poof in about 2.5/3 hours ______________________________________________
Memento Mori
Official Description: an intriguing blend of smoked vanilla, dark spice, patchouli and black amber.
Top- smoke, clove, white pepper, blood orange Middle- sandalwood, jasmine, amber, nutmeg, black pepper, cardamom seed Bottom- black amber, vanilla, dark musk, benzoin, amyris, patchouli, cassia bark, ebonywood, dark musk
My review: Not gonna lie, this is almost chrismasy. Like a Dark Yule vibe. The dark spice in there completely reminds me of late fall/early winter spices. It's definitely going to be a fall/winter scent for me. Smokey spiced vanilla and clove. It'll be perfect to mix with an Apple scent to add more Autumn/early winter complexity! It gives walking in late fall/crisp winter when the leaves are almost all gone and you have a cinnamon chai warm in your hands walking out in the cold, vs Midnight Circus which gives off Fall carnival with smoky campfire vibes
By the end of the drydown (1.5 hours, maybe 2), all I get is cinnamon and maybe some other spices, Very light sweetness coming from the vanilla. This'll be a good mixer with some of my more sharp winter woodsy scents from Pineward, for a great late fall/winteyule scent!
4.5 out of 5, only because this scent house goes poof too fast on me. All the scents from this house poof in about 2.5/3 hours
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Nightshade Elixir
Official Description: Nightshade Elixir is an intoxicating blend of deadly nightshade, Moonflower Nectar, Elderberry and absinthe. There is a mysterious quality to this blend that keeps it from being too sweet from the berries or too floral from the Moonflower. There is a perfect blend of fruity, floral, spice and mystery. It starts out on the sweeter side to draw you in (from the black currant and agave), before the deadly dark side starts to shine through on the dry down with black tea, saffron, absinthe and Anise. An all together delectable and mysterious blend that will keep you coming back for more
Top- saffron, anise, agave
Middle- Black current, black berry, jasmine
Bottom- amber, tonka, dark musk, black tea, absinthe, dark musk
My review: Okay, this one does go a bit on the powdery/clean perfume vibes. But, I do still like it?? Very strange, considering I hate clean/powdery scents, but this one balances the Clean notes with a juicy fruity flowery vibe that it balances things quite nicely and I can't stop smelling myself. There's a sharp powdery note in there, though, that keeps me from giving it a 4/5. I've narrowed it down to either the Amber or dark musk or tonka. Whatever it is, it's totally a dead note for me. It's popped up in a few other scents over the samples I've gotten, and it's been quite annoying. I May add something a bit juicier to this. But, it almost gives Spring Fairy Queen vibes. fruity and florally, but also a bit perfumey and stringent
3.5/5 I do like it, it's just a bit too powdery perfume-y for me. Under a pear or other fruit scent, I think it would be quite nice!
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Black no 1
Original description: This scent was inspired by Type O Negative's song, "Black No.1", with notes of crisp fall leaves, burning cedar, smoke and incense.
I wanted to capture the essence of burning leaves as well as autumn air, a faint whisp of clove cigarettes, freshly dyed hair and wolf skin boots. The scent opens up with deep Notes of leather, incense and smoke. Then, brightens slightly with spiced fruit in autumn air, intermingled with warm amber. Wrapped up on a base of burning cedar and musk. This is a deep, gender neutral scent, not for the faint of heart
Top- incense, cedar leaf
Middle- green leaves, smoke, pine, spiced fruit
Bottom- cedar, amber, musk, leather
My review: Ooh, you DEFINITELY get the spiced fruit. Where Memento Mori you get a late fall Slightly into Winter vibe, this scent is ALL winter vibes. Like you're drinking mulled berry wine and christmas shopping downtown, so there's a tinge of cold in the air and incense/fall scented candles are lit in the stores. This scent house REALLY likes its cinnamon note. Those spices are the strongest hit in this, first on my skin. Straight spiced mulled fruits
4/5 but only because the scent description notes of 'clove cigarettes, freshly dyed hair, and wolf skin boots' kinda gave me the vibe that it would be more a kickass chick wearing a leather jacket- kind of scent, but it's more a straightforward CHRISTMAS scent lol. Did not expect that vibe from the original scent description. If the leather and smoke and leaves and cedar were more prominent, maybe. I just REALLY want a good leather scent :/
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I hope this review helps out someone looking for new samples to try!
Also, if anyone could recommend a really good leather scent...please hook a girl up? ;)

moving sale must go. macy modern concepts. super comfortable oversized chair with ottoman. chair 46” wide x 38” deep x 28” arm height (17” seat height). ottoman 31” wide x 26” long x 17” height. original item listed for $1,300. asking for $350 or best offer. pick up only. located in cheesman park.

moving sale must go. macy modern concepts. super comfortable oversized chair with ottoman. chair 46” wide x 38” deep x 28” arm height (17” seat height). ottoman 31” wide x 26” long x 17” height. original item listed for $1,300. asking for $350 or best offer. pick up only. located in cheesman park.

I feel like my baby hates me! She’s almost always fine except for normal babies things with LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE!!!!!!!!! This is my first baby. I’ve always taken care of babies no problem. In fact I’ve been the person my mom specifically would have take care of my siblings. My daughter is now almost 4 months old. I’ve tried everything if feels like. I to wits end. I can’t do anything with her. She will literally starve herself to have nothing to do with me. So for anyone that keeps telling me that it’s because I smell like milk or she hungry blah blah blah …. I highly doubt it. There’s been a handful of days I have to take care of her most of the day, and those days she won’t take anything from me. A bottle, the breast, syringe, etc. I can’t hold her, but if I put her down she just still cry’s like she in so much pain. I do all the things you can think of. Rock her it be in a swing or different types of rockers ex: recliner, gliders, swivel chairs. Walk her in my arms, in her doona car seat, in those strap on baby carriers ( clothe, strapped ones, and the wraps). Ive made sure she isn’t gassy, having acid reflux, making sure her diaper or clothes isn’t bothering her, making sure nothing is pinching her, making sure her skin isn’t irritated… I’ve tried bathing her, taking her in the shower with me, laying with her, sitting with her, I can keep going on and on. I have no idea what to do at this point. She’s done this since the day I had her. She doesn’t have “latch issues” either in the sense that something is wrong but simply because she refuse me to the point eating is an actual wrestling match and she BITES THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME!! She full blown fights me on taking care of her like she’s a 1 year old. I’ve tried staying as calm as I can but I am human and break. I’ve raged out to the point of almost breaking my own hands and giving myself a concussion. I stay so calm for so long and give up. I have to almost always give her to my dad, husband (when he’s home), or let her cry til she passes out from pure exhaustion. I’ve seen all the professionals!!! My PCP and her PCP my personal nurse, everyone in my doctors office and the hospital, even the people in the transfusion center at my hospital (was going because I was iron deficient from losing tons of blood and making 1-2 gallons of milk a day), I’ve went to LLC’s, health department, and so on. I’ve tried to talk to family about it and they refuse to listen to me. Literally everyone except my husband has almost full blown stays in denial to what’s happening with me and her. I love my daughter so much and I’ve gone through so much for her willing and unwilling. Me and my husband planned on having her. I just want her to be happy and healthy. I’ve always for as long as i could remember I’ve dreamed of having children even while I once denounced having kids because of the roe v wade ruling( I’m pro choice btw) and being raped for years on end prior to meeting my husband. I’ve been at my all time lowest because of my daughter’s EXTRME rejection towards me. She’s one of those babies that sadly would have died in a not so modern time simply because she wants nothing to do with her mother that is the only one able to give her what she needs. Only reason I’m able to make sure she is ok is cause I’m able to have a husband that works and dad that has an online business and stays home and helps me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to pump ( and I have to because short of birth control, fertility treatments, and domaine boosters, I’ve tried everything in the book and otc Sudafed to kill my milk supply. Nothing has worked. I’m now possibly pregnant and I’m worried about it cos I need to stop lactating temporarily for my health and this potential pregnancy cos it makes my uterus contract so much I’ve been coming here on Reddit for advice on different things cos I’ve been exhausting all options on many things and it seems I’m in the extreme minority on lot of different things

I had to call 911 and go to the hospital, I was tweaking. I frequently used weed, but lately it’s doing the opposite effect of what it used to. It used to helps soothe my crippling anxiety and depression. But I just kept using it because it gave me some sort of numbness. But this time last night was different. And I’ve greened out plenty of times before, I’ve thugged it out most times. But my chest started feeling heavier, and breathing became hard. I felt a lot of tension in my nose/middle face area. I was extremely fried as well, getting very paranoid and not being sure what I was looking at. I had to step out my apartment and walk back and forth the streets.
They asked me if I wanted to go to hospital, I said yea. I was so fried, they had to help me out those arm pressure things, as well as the ones for your finger, because I was super dizzy /nauseous and could barely move, I actually wanted to fall off my chair. The staff were def irritated. I apologized to the man in the ambulance, but he just rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. Also I felt I was getting stares, some of them were talking most likely about me, and finding it a little funny. But I’m so high(still and it’s the end of the day), it felt like a blur.
So we go in there room after I beg for a quiet one and not just the public hallway. And this is when I start really losing my calm. The nurse lady asks me if I use edibles because I’m going through something, and I admitted I did it because of my anxiety and stress as well as some unresolved issues. Saying it out loud made me start bawling, and my body starts heating up. They were putting the chest straps on my chest. I’ve always had this weird phobia for slight chest discomfort, or pain. And for some reason it was making me feel more stressed, and I didn’t want to trigger my lifelong asthma, since I’m having a heavy chest. I’m begging/pleading the nurse lady to take them off. Because I felt like my heart couldn’t take it. She gives in eventually but leaves some on. I start sweating buckets, feeling weak, nauseous, and super hot. And the doctors were confused because they said the hospital was definitely ventilated with AC. After 15/20 mins, it starts to cool down. So they let me sleep it off for 2-3 hours(I could barely do that), before discharging me. I walk out the hospital, still very high and feeling weak. Like CHS weak. That definitely had to play a part, but the nurse didn’t know what that meant.
The reports said my blood pressure 140/81. But I recall me asking in there, and them telling me it was at 170(and should apparently be at 120). So idk if the written report being 140 is the average, or if it’s the longest running number, or if it was never 170. I’m still a lil scared that I might have another panic attack, and I feel like absolute shit rn. I know it’s nobodies fault but my own. I had nobody else to call but the hospital. It’s just been a lot with my mental health, and physical exhastion from work, as well as some things I’ve been dealing with inside my head.
Edit: I learned my lesson. I just wanted to stop feeling suicidal all the time. Ironically.

Hello.
I work from home and so I am looking for a much more comfortable chair to sit in. Mine isn't bad. Its a few years old. Was about $150. My back almost always hurts though and its getting to the point where I can feel the actual chair and not the cushion.
I just heard a Youtuber mention Herman Miller chairs and said they're great. They're $$$ though.
First, is there a place in USA (NJ) to try them out?
Second, are they good to sit cross legged in? I need a wide chair because that;s how I sit 90% of the time and one time in an old old desk chair I had permanent dents in my legs since the arms of the chairs were in the way when I sat this way.
Any specific model yall would recommend?
Thanks!