Me (26F) and my boyfriend Lucas (29M) are friends with Mark and Hannah (both 30), a couple. My boyfriend and Mark are childhood friends and couldn't be closer. I've gotten close to them too since dating Lucas.
I love them, but they are victims of themselves. They live rent free in her parents extra house. They both work part time barista jobs and complain about people not tipping enough, and are CONSTANTLY, I mean CONSTANTLY, complaining about being broke and having no money. I literally cannot comprehend where their money goes. There is nothing wrong with them, they're perfectly capable of working full time jobs that will pay more than barista. They also are in credit card debt and have gone on long European and Asian vacations. Meanwhile Lucas and I work full time jobs, are diligent about saving, and live in a crappy place in order to save. We don't have help from our parents.
We were hanging out last night and they start complaining again about being broke and then about how only half their customers tip them. They then asked Lucas and I to pay for dinner because they're broke, and that they'll Venmo us back soon. I just recently got some crippling medical bills and kind of snapped at them. My face turned red and I said (calmly but definitely intensely) "it's really hard to listen to you complain about this when I'm busting my ass to survive. Why don't you guys get full time jobs and save more?" They looked really taken aback and mark got defensive, and he said "just because we're in a different financial situation doesn't make our struggling any less valid." I didn't say anything else but I was just so sick of them complaining to people who have it worse than them.
Afterward Lucas told me I didn't need to say anything, and I should just let it roll of my back. I'm having a hard time, they're so tone deaf and sooo entitled. They canceled our plans for tonight and I feel really bad. AITA for being confrontational like that?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

1. What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games (ex: resolution, FPS, settings) or programs you will be using.**

Not very intensive games, usually things like Minecraft, Phasmophobia, lethal company, and the odd game like Sons of the forest.

1. What is your maximum PRE-TAX budget before rebates and shipping?

~$1000 tops, will be price checking different options on parts to hopefully find places to just pick up the items

1. When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy.

Throughout this summer where the money allows it, just startes full time out of school so hopefully get a part or 2 a paycheck

1. What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ex: toweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc)

Tower, OS, monitor (Will look into and edit if my school has a window program)

1. If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? How old are they? Brands and models are appreciated.

I have an old (8? Years) gtx 1050 or 1040, and a single DDR4 8gb i dont remember the brand, came in a prebuild from cyberpower

1. Will you be overclocking (ex: CPU/GPU/RAM)? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line

Will not be overclocking

1. Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSDs, mass HDDs, Wi-Fi / Bluetooth, VR, VirtualLink, tensor cores, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc.)

Nothing too fancy, enough storage for a nursing student + a few games. Needs wifi

1. Do you have any specific case preferences (ex: mITX/mATX/mid-towefull-tower sizes, styles, colours, window or not, LED lighting, etc.), or a particular color theme preference for the components?

White, window (tinted or clear doesnt matter), LED lighting

1. Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? Note: some post-secondary students can get Windows 10 for free at OnTheHub or through their school's IT software distribution department.**

Ill have to check if the link above works with school, will edit this in a little bit with info

1. Will you be upgrading this PC in the future (ie: will you swap out better parts later on or will you build an entirely new tower later)? If so, when?

Maybe upgrade way down the line

1. Do you have a brand preference? (ex: AMD/Intel for CPUs, AMD/NVIDIA for video cards, etc.)**

No brand preference, just whatever will work in the budget lmao

1. Extra info or particulars:

Any help is appreciated i built my own PC awhile back and spent way too much on things that i shouldnt got something else lmao trying to build something that'll work good for my gf who games semi often but mostly for light gaming and school.

Hey, I have been feeling lonely because of work from home and deadlines pressure. So need something to refresh after working hours and during weekends but unfortunately couldn't find any single place solution where I can engage in multiple activities like indoooutdoor sports, gym and swimming pool. One of my friend suggested Mohali club, so please let me know if someone is aware of there membership plans monthly or annual fees?
Also if you know better place please feel free to suggest

Forget the Farmer's Market - I’m hosting a moving sale this Saturday on the outskirts of McGolrick Park by Little Dokebi starting at 10 AM. Come by, find some great deals, and help me lighten my load before I GTFO of town. Some of these items will be in my apartment; we can arrange delivery if you're interested.
Here's a sneak peek at some of the items up for grabs.

• West Elm Couch - $200: A stylish and comfy sectional that's perfect for small living rooms.
• Vintage High-backed Morpheus Chair - $100: Looks just like the chair that Laurence Fishburne sits in in the Matrix.
• Roku TV - $25: Still kicking, about 40 inches.
• Vari Desk Standing Desk - $100: This was $500 retail a year ago. Only defects are a bit of bong resin that got stuck to the left corner.
• 8,000 BTU Air Conditioner - $25: The little engine that could. This guy has kept my hot wife cool for years.
• Brother Laser Printer - $20: This printer has never failed me and seemingly never needs a toner refill.
• TV Stand - $10: Sturdy and stylish to support your TV setup. This was like $150 new about a year ago.
• Mac Desktop Computer - $10 - The computer works but is pretty old. Maybe you'd like it for a prop or to smash with a baseball bat, which I would do, but unfortunately do not have the time.

All items are negotiable – let's haggle!
But wait, there's more! I'll also have dozens of books available for just $1 each, along with various tools, kitchen supplies and bric-a-brac. Some stuff will just be free too.
See you at McGolrick Park this Saturday from 10 AM onwards.

Premium Q Moving and Storage shines as one of the best movers in Boston Magazine, solidifying their reputation for excellence. If you’re planning a move, and you want everything to go smoothly. You’ve done your research, read reviews, and asked for recommendations. Then, you stumble upon an article in Boston Magazine featuring none other than Premium Q Moving and Storage as the best movers in town. But that’s not all. You also discover that Premium Q was recently recognized by USA Today for their exceptional service. As you delve deeper into the article, you realize that Premium Q Moving and Storage isn’t just another moving company – they’re the experts in making moves stress-free and seamless.

One of the Best Movers in Boston Magazine:

Being featured in Boston Magazine is no small feat. With a reputation for excellence and a discerning readership, this publication serves as a trusted resource for those seeking the best of the best. Premium Q Moving and Storage’s inclusion in Boston Magazine’s list of top movers is a testament to their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction.

USA Today Recognition:

As if being recognized as one of the best movers in Boston Magazine wasn’t enough, Premium Q Moving and Storage has also caught the attention of USA Today. With a nationwide reach and millions of readers, USA Today’s endorsement further solidifies Premium Q’s position as one of the premier moving companies in the country. Whether you’re moving across town or across the country, you can trust Premium Q to deliver exceptional service every step of the way.

Expertise and Experience:

With over 15 years of experience and thousands of satisfied customers, Premium Q Moving and Storage has earned a reputation for excellence in the moving industry. Their team of professional movers is highly trained and skilled in handling all types of moves, from local residential relocations to long-distance moves and international relocations. When you choose Premium Q, you can rest assured that your belongings are in good hands.

Tailored Moving Solutions:

Premium Q Moving and Storage understands that no two moves are alike. That’s why they offer personalized moving solutions tailored to meet each customer’s unique needs and preferences. Whether you need help with packing, loading, transportation, or storage, Premium Q has you covered. Their comprehensive range of services ensures a stress-free and seamless moving experience from start to finish.
Check it out our latest articles:

• Premium Q Moving and Storage: Recognized as Best Movers in USA Today
• How to Stay Calm During a Move
• Navigating Rain on Moving Day: Tips and Tricks for a Smooth Transition

Conclusion:

In conclusion, Premium Q Moving and Storage’s recent features in both Boston Magazine and USA Today are a testament to their commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction. With their expertise, experience, and personalized approach to moving, Premium Q has earned their reputation as the one of the best movers in Boston Magazine and beyond. If you’re planning a move, trust the experts at Premium Q Moving and Storage to make your transition as smooth and hassle-free as possible. Because at Premium Q Moving and Storage, We Move Lives, Not Things.
Contact Your Favorite Local Movers
Experience a seamless moving experience with Premium Q Moving and Storage as your favorite local movers. Get your personalized quote:

• For Tampa: at (813)-733-4481, visit www.premiumqmoving.com/tampa-moving or contact us at [tampa@premiumqmoving.com](mailto:Tampa@premiumqmoving.com). Follow us on instagram u/tampamoving.
• For Boston: at (781)-549-8789, visit www.premiumqmoving.com or contact us at [sales@premiumqmoving.com](mailto:sales@premiumqmoving.com). Follow us on instagram @premiumqmoving.

Listen/Watch Life Beyond Boxes Podcast Episodes Below

Catch the latest episode of the Life Beyond Boxes podcast now! Tune in for captivating conversations and eye-opening insights:

• Listen on Apple Podcasts: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast
• Listen on Amazon Music: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast
• Listen on Spotify: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast
• Listen on Boomplay: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast
• Watch on YouTube: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast

Don’t just exist – thrive! Listen to Life Beyond Boxes podcast now on your favorite podcast platform and embark on a journey of self-discovery and empowerment.
Subscribe now for a smoother, stress-free move and a brighter new chapter in your life. Let’s go beyond boxes together!

So I checked out the latest patch yesterday and I have to say, I cannot imagine a better re-design for upgraded Stoneskin and Caltrops. Thorns Andrin is a build I've been trying to make work for awhile now, as Deflect is a dumb card that lets him stack hilarious amounts of block for basically free and stoneskin was always pretty cost efficient. However the build always had a few big issues.

1. It lacked a good energy sink. Most of the best tank scout cards are free or 1 cost, leaving you with a bunch of energy you couldn't do a whole lot with. Acrobatics Strike nonbos pretty hard with thorns stacking because enemies don't take recoil damage from dodged attacks, and dumping your spare energy on something like rain of arrows or far shot just feels really sad.
   
2. It lacked good team survivability options. While Andarin could generate comical amounts of block for himself, he couldn't really protect his team from AOE effects, which are quite common in this game. A lot of the great team heal/support scout cards are locked behind stanza, which was difficult to setup and was often not worth the effort.
   
3. It just didn't generate enough thorns. Stoneskin is a phenomenally efficient card that gives thorns, block, and even phys resistance for the low cost of 1 energy, but wasn't enough to carry the build on its own. Caltrops generated a surprising amount of thorns across your entire party, but was generally too low impact to be worth the draw. It was difficult to generate enough thorns to make thorns Andarin feel worth it over evade tank Andarin, which had more survivability and a more coherent game plan in general.
   

The new blue upgrades for Caltrops and Stoneskin fix ALL of these issues, making thorns Andarin a real build now. Blue Caltrops is basically a budget barricade that also gives your party a pretty solid amount of thorns, giving some much-needed party-wide survivability while also punishing aoe attacks. Blue Stoneskin is honestly one of the best OC cards we've gotten, as it gives Andarin a much needed energy sink allowing him to generate 30+ thorns on turn 1. You can even combine it with the Maneuvers trait card to draw your entire deck and give yourself a bunch of evade, just to be really sure you don't die. I've already gotten some highlights off of this build, including dealing over 300 recoil damage to the new DLC boss, securing a round 1 kill, and it just feels so much better than it did before.
I have not tried thorns tank with Nenukil yet. The lower speed could definitely be problematic, as this build really likes going first, but the extra caltrops are definitely welcome. I don't think this build wants more than two stoneskins, though I guess I could experiment with shuffling in some orange stoneskins. Having fewer deflects is definitely sad, as that directly reduces the amount of block you can generate per round. I dunno. I'll have to experiment.

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

Someone mentioned a book called "Nourishing Yourself Through Eating Disorder Recovery" or something to that effect. It was like, the "plate-by-plate" approach or something similar.
I'm broke as hell and can't buy the book right now, but I was wondering if anyone on here could explain some of the main guidelines to me. Or if you could point me to any free resources that would guide me in a similar way.
I also recently asked my psych NP to request samples from Kate Farms, which is like, supercharged Ensure that's also vegan and made of pea protein. It's for medical nutrition. They sent two boxes containing a dozen each of the vanilla 1.0 and plain 1.5, which surprised both of us to no end. I figured I might get one or two and a coupon for my next order or something. She's a nurse practitioner, not a doctor or psychiatrist or nutrition specialist, nor is she an eating disorder specialist of any kind. I'm guessing a therapist could also make the request; it just has to come from some type of medical provider. Oh and she has another client with similar issues who has Medicaid and got them to pay for a YEAR SUPPLY of the stuff. Completely covered.
I got them yesterday. My first thought was, wow, I have to tell other people about this. I mean, I can't imagine I'm the only broke bitch who also has food problems like this. I'm barely functional, but I still want to help make things better for others. And I think it's good to be reminded that some things in this world aren't awful and unfair. Sometimes you can still be surprised by generosity, and it's nice to know that this exists, that several people went out of their way to not just make and sell the product, but recognized that there was a need that wasn't being addressed: some folks with EDs or other eating and feeding issues don't have money, but they still need a product like this. They saw that, and they actually DID SOMETHING: they created a form for providers to request samples, and the samples are incredibly generous.
I'm just saying, it's good to remind yourself that not everything in the world is brutally unfair. I have to do it often in the last several months. But that is another story for another subreddit lol
My second thought was, wait, now what? Because I have these things and should probably try to use them. But I have no idea how to incorporate them into my diet. So I'm doing what any broke bitch with an internet connection would do in this day and age: I'm asking Reddit. And a few other places, but this is one of my go-to sites for certain things.
How do you all incorporate supplements like this in your recovery efforts? And I'll take all the meal planning info I can get. I'm also vegan, but that predates and exists apart from the ED shenanigans, at least for me. I recognize that some folks use that kind of diet as a mask for disordered eating, but I'm 34 and went vegan at 16. My food weirdness existed before that, but it didn't reach ED levels until I was nearly 18. Veganism has always been a matter of ethics for me, but I'm way past the point where I could be bothered to harass others about it. Inform, sure, but I think it would be pretty bonkers for me to try to tell anyone how to live and eat, when I can barely get myself to do those things lately.
Y'all, I hate this. Eating is literally a basic biological function. Plenty of idiots do it with no problem, and I can't. Bigots and other generally awful people do it all the time, zero issues, but it's my fucking kryptonite. I want to do so many things in this world and yet all my energy is going towards anorexia. I hate that I even care.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk lol

First/Previous
"Watch out!" Jack yelled out to the crowd as the now-glowing overhead turrets, long dormant and forgotten, suddenly whirred to life with a mechanical hum, tracking his movements as he ran, shoving past a group of unsuspecting Xarak to the side as he moved to dodge the torrent of rapid fire aimed right at him, kicking up smoke as the superheated plasma churned the ground underneath him, before the sound of gunfire abruptly stopped.
"Fucking overheating shittubes!" the voice on the speakers cursed. "The Outsider is by the two broken pillars!"
"I see him!" a voice replied from out of the crowd as Jack got his bearings, spotting a group of three uniformed soldiers rushing towards him. As the leader moved to stab him with a nasty-looking barbed shortspear, Jack quickly juked the direction he intended to dodge, dipping to the right as he smashed the avian in the stomach with a vicious kick, shuffling back as he caught the blade of the second soldier with his bracer before throwing them off balance, lashing back at the first with his elbow as he did.
He moved to check the third that was moving to take a swing at him with a bat, but before Jack could do so the soldier was suddenly yanked back as a long, coiled leather whip snapped around them. Following along, Jack spotted an older grey-skinned ganger in black leathers with a coarse, black beard to match his scraggly hair sat down with his back to a wall, casually drinking a beer as he observed the chaos with a mischievous smirk.
As the soldier pulled back his bat to strike the interloper, the ganger grinned and looked down where his legs were already spread wide, revealing a strange metal crotch plate. Suddenly making a jerking motion with one of his legs, the plate flipped up to reveal the barrel of a huge codpiece gun that flipped up to point directly at the soldier, before it fired once, catching the solder completely by surprise as the top of their body was utterly obliterated by a bolt of powerful plasma energy. Smirking, the ganger gave Jack a wink, chugging down the rest of his drink, before charging into the brawl.
Hearing an almighty roar, Jack turned around only to be knocked back yet again as a broken, avian body was roughly lobbed at him, staggering him backwards as the Redeemer turned to the last of the bird-like gangsters, picking him up with immense strength and smashing them to the ground before advancing towards the human more cautiously this time, shoving drunken brawlers out of the way.
“I have long waited for this moment, Outsider. With your death, my King shall grant you redemption!” The Redeemer snarled. Now having a good look at him, Jack couldn’t see any visible weapons on him, which was strange. Last time, he’d brought a gunship and was taking potshots at him with some kind of high-powered rifle. Then again, considering what happened last time, maybe The Redeemer wanted the satisfaction of using his bare hands to beat him to death.
It wouldn’t be a terrible plan considering everything the Ogar had pulled off so far…
While sports on Earth were often separated by gender, despite some resistance from the more liberal-minded, due to biological differences between men and women, combat sports were a whole different game, with mixed martial arts organisations having very specific weight classes for fair competition between athletes, with two fighters of similar size and weight less likely to cause serious injury to each other.
But if you placed an experienced lightweight against even a novice heavyweight? That would introduce major problems for the smaller fighter, who would need to contend with the extra size, reach and power of their larger opponent. Not an impossible fight, but a tough one.
And Jack very much felt like a lightweight here.
Though of course, he had faced larger opponents before. Even an Ogar, though they had defeated the Laird with a cunning trap. However, he didn’t know how well matched he and The Redeemer were in a fair close-range fight outside of the opening moments of the ambush.
Still, he had little choice but to find out. He didn’t have an easy way to escape, and he didn’t know what the status of the others was. If he ran while they were still here then The Redeemer and the Regulators would simply go after them instead to get to him…
No. He couldn’t allow those thoughts to shake him. His friends knew what the hell they were doing, and they could handle themselves just fine. He had to worry about himself right now.
He couldn’t run, so he had to fight.
With a speed he didn’t expect from The Redeemer, they grabbed a nearby chair and lobbed it right at Jack in one smooth motion before following through with another charge.
‘Aegis!’ Jack yelled as he brought his forearm up, as his new and improved shield eagerly sprung up to take the hit from the chair, before a fist smacked into the side of his head as The Redeemer used the chair as a distraction to change his angle of attack.
Spinning with the blow, Jack fought in his mind to stay in the fight as his vision blurred, with the powerful strike threatening to knock him out then and there, before another fist caught him in the stomach, with his battleskin dispersing a hit that would have otherwise easily taken the air out of his lungs.
Retracting his shield, Jack ducked another punch that threatened to decapitate him as he skidded under the blow, parrying a backfist with his forearm that tingled painfully as he ate the blow, before clocking the Redeemer with a punch to the jaw, his gauntlet extending to cover his knuckles with a well-forged plate of metal to add their power to the strike, before the Redeemer threw out a punch that caught him on the shoulder, sending the deathworlder reeling back.
Jack grit his teeth as he fought through the pain, adrenaline rushing through him. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, but he knew he’d gotten the worst of that engagement.
The Redeemer clearly understood this as well, as the zealot strode towards the human with a confident, wicked grin.
But this time, Jack was ready.
‘Caltrops’ Jack whispered the command word, as his gauntlets gave him a good handful of them, subtly tossing them in front of him with an underhand throw, which had gone unnoticed by the Redeemer as they stared at the human with hatred.
Suddenly dashing forward to quickly close the remaining distance between them, the Redeemer roared as he charged Jack again, suddenly grunting in pain and stumbling as his full, heavy mass sent a sharp, painful spike straight through his armoured boot, causing him to lose focus as he looked down at his foot for just a moment to see what had happened.
A moment of distraction that Jack used to its fullest, as he quickly swung his axe down right at The Redeemer’s head.
However, the Ogar reacted with surprising dexterity as he used his forward momentum to avoid the full force of the axeblade, his metal helmet taking a glancing blow as he shoved Jack off balance, causing him to stumble. Quickly predicting what would come next, Jack dropped his axe on purpose as he prepared for a takedown attempt, dropping low and widening his stance as the Redeemer tackled him around the waist to try and bring him to the ground for a quick finish.
“There will be no salvation for you, human!” The Ogar growled through his pain as Jack was forced back by the Redeemer’s superior strength.
“Aww, did you miss me?” Jack taunted, holding on and walking back with the ever increasing momentum The Redeemer was building as he was pushed back along the dancefloor. “I saw your tantrum on the TV afterwards, didn’t know you were a bitch too!”
‘That’s it, asshole.’ Jack thought to himself as he felt his axe clip back onto his back. ‘Get mad. You showed me last time that you like to talk too much. I need to time this right…'
“Your blasphemy ends here Outsider! I shall smite you in the name of my King!” The insane zealot roared out in an enraged challenge.
With a roar the Redeemer pushed with much greater strength, forcing Jack to change his slow backpedalling into a full on sprint as he scrambled to stay on his feet, fighting to keep his grip above that of the Redeemer’s to maintain his control of the grapple for as long as he could as he was gradually being put off-balance, almost being lifted upwards.
‘I’ve got to hold on until the last possible moment…’ Jack thought to himself, as tables, chairs and people alike were battered to the side.
‘Now!’
As the wooden pillar supporting the balcony passed them in a blur, Jack shifted his weight to the left and relinquished the grapple, using the Redeemer’s momentum against him as he shoved the Redeemer off balance, as they smashed into the crumbling brick wall head first with an almighty crash.
As they stumbled back, yanking their head back out through the newly formed hole, Jack growled as grabbed the Redeemer around the top of one of his legs, yelling with effort as he was only just able to lift the Redeemer up and over him, slamming the Ogar down on the top of his head as hard as he could in a vicious suplex that gave a satisfying crack.
Growling with effort, the Redeemer pushed himself back into a crouch and looked up just in time as Jack’s foot smacked into the side of his head in a savage kick that cracked his metal helmet and dislodged one of his fangs. Roaring in rage and pain, the Redeemer got to his feet only to meet a flying knee that shattered his nose as his helmet cracked and dented with the heavy impacts.
“Redeem that you ugly cunt!” Jack growled, moving in for another strike as the Redeemer shoved him away, showing no signs of faltering as he slowly got to his feet, even after the devastating blows he just took. The Redeemer simply gave Jack a wicked grin of satisfaction, before it fell slightly upon seeing something to Jack’s side.
As Jack’s Ring of the Berserker vibrated again, he spun around to spot a large, lanky Vivren with several piercings in overt heavy armour grinning at him with malicious intent as she pointed a wand at him and cast a word of power.
Before he had any time to react, Jack’s entire body erupted in a wave of agony unlike anything he had ever felt before…
*****
“Fuck! Alora! Sephy? Chiyo? Dante?” Nika coughed as she got up from where the balcony had collapsed from under them.
Looking around, she could see even more patrons fighting around them, revelling in the chaos of the brawl, but she couldn’t spot any of her friends in the immediate aftermath, as thick dust plumed out from the wreckage below her.
‘At least the crew of the ship we’re meant to be travelling on are probably out by now.’ The Kizun thought to herself. ‘Can’t go back, the CorvMart crew will have moved on by now, so sticking to the original plan is probably the best move, unless we can steal a vehicle one of us knows how to pilot.’
Assessing the situation before her, Nika went for her bo staff, though made sure that her shotgun was well within easy reach. Though many of the people fighting around her looked rough, they weren’t attacking her or her friends, and until that changed they could make good allies of convenience, or for a smokescreen to give their enemies the slip if they had to run.
Though slaying as many of their attackers as they could would be preferable.
‘Best way to do that is link up with the others, we’re better as a unit.’ She reasoned, hearing an almighty crash. ‘Well, that’s probably Jack.’
Dodging a thrown bottle as a Squarri ganger missed their intended target - a pissed-off looking quadrupedal furry species that Nika didn’t recognise - before dodging a swing of a bat from a Xarak that saw her as an easy target. Quickly raising her staff she parried the backswing before cracking the other end of the staff across the reptilian’s face, knocking the rough-looking thug out as he collapsed to the ground.
Yet before Nika could think to move on from the conflict, she had to dodge out of the way using her tail as a large Balnath with some kind of cleaver-like sword took a swing at her. Recognising the sigil of the Regulator group Chiyo had told them to watch out for - a stern-looking demonic rune surrounded by a neon-red triangle - Nika parried the next sword swipe from the figure.
“Let me guesth, you want to get to the Outthider?” The Balnath sneered at the Kizun with a lisp so thick that in any other situation she’d have to stop herself from laughing. “I’m stho thorry, but we can’t let you have sthilly ideas like that!”
“Are you for fucking real?” Nika asked as she dodged to the side and put some space between them before quickly switching to her shotgun, letting loose a powerful blast that the Balnath was able to raise his shield up to block.
‘Skill like that? Probably the leader or an officer of some kind.’ The Kizun noted to herself. ‘No choice. I’ve got to kill him.’
“Yeah, I know that you’re finking! You fink my teef make me sound sthupid?” The Balnath growled, with a few experimental chomps. “Well these teef like to gnaw and gnasth on Kizun flesth!”
“Come and try it!” Nika snarled as she twirled her staff around her in a well-practised flourish, eagerly accepting the challenge.
The Balnath charged forward with lightning speed as it came at Nika with a series of feints, before swiping at her with a brutal overhand chop, using both hands. The Kizun was able to deftly parry with her staff, the kinetic modules battering her opponent’s grip to the side, though she felt the strength behind the blow and knew that the Balnath was stronger.
Still, she knew she could take him.
Ever since she was little she had roughhoused with her brothers and the local boys in fights around their ranch, and had learned the hard way from an early age that her gender and short build worked against her when facing her peers, so she had trained to be the strongest she could be, and learned to be quick and tactical to make the best use of that.
She had eventually kept up with the neighbourhood boys, using holds and precise strikes until her elders found out what she was doing when she was meant to be working on the ranch to help the family scrape by, and quickly put a stop to the shenanigans.
When she moved to the city, she only got better from there.
The tip of her staff thundered against the Balnath’s shield like the striking of a gong, forcing the larger being back as Nika could tell he was already tiring. Though she wanted to finish this fight quickly and get to her friends, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to give her opponent an opening, even as she sought to exploit an opening of her own. She had to be patient.
Her staff rattled against the shield again and again, as she felt her opponent’s defence get weaker and weaker, with the powerful force of her kinetic module focusing the strength of her strikes into a single point. Eventually something would break, his shield of his arm. Once his defences were finally down, she would go in swiftly for the kill.
Her opponent’s frustration won out as his shield shattered and fell to the floor, forcing him to attack Nika with a vicious two handed swipe. She blocked the strike handily, before the Balnath grabbed her staff, locking them in a clinch.
“Giff me sthome help over ‘ere!” The Balnath called out, as Nika reached for a knife, forcing the Balnath to adjust his stance as she stabbed blindly, glancing off armoured plates before finding purchase somewhere, causing her attacker to grunt with pain as he shoved her back, holding her up against a wall.
‘Shit.’ She cursed in her mind. ‘He’s stronger than me, but all I need is a moment to take him by surprise and I can break away and kill him!’
She held strong with her arms, holding the Balnath back as his jaws snapped shut barely an inch away from her neck. He tried again, and she pushed back harder, the jaws snapping shut around nothing, but much closer this time.
He tried again, bringing his vicious maw even closer still…
‘Gotcha!’ Nika thought to herself, as she jerked her head forward in a headbutt, catching the Balnath by surprise and giving the Kizun the space she needed to bring her knees up to her chin, before kicking out as hard as she could into the face of the Balnath, knocking him back with a roar of pain, before he leapt forward with a side swipe that Nika used her tail to quickly dodge, before in the same motion she brought the tip of her staff round and smacked the Balnath as hard as she could, right in the face, the powerful strike shattering its lower jaw completely.
“My fathce!” the attacker got out, clutching what little remained of his lower jaw, before looking up in the next moment as they stared down the barrel of Nika’s shotgun.
“Plea-” They got out, before their head was obliterated in an explosion of dark, blackish blood as their body clattered uselessly to the ground.
“Fuck you.” The Kizun retorted. Using her tail to quickly clip the sword to the magnets of her armour, Nika could see more Regulators in the crowd heading towards the DJ booth. Quickly checking her weapons, she headed right into the brawl!
*****
“You don’t belong here, girlie!” the thug cackled as their cybernetic arm crackled with electric discharge.
“Replacto!” Alora snarled as she swiped her wand out, blasting her attacker with a sudden flash of light that sent him stumbling back, clutching at his eyes.
“Anyone else?” Alora asked, trying her best to channel Nika’s cool, calm demeanour, crossed with Jack’s intimidating presence as the cluster of gangers and mercenaries all looked around at each other for just a moment, before deciding that the Eladrie wasn’t actually that intimidating, as one tried to rush her with a broken chair.
‘Oh by the Mother Tree! How do those two do it?’ Alora cursed in her mind as she summoned her spiritual weapon - a spear of light - that she quickly stabbed at the fish-like Osi, gutting them in the stomach which quickly made them drop the chair, while Alora wisely moved to the side to get out of the vicious melee happening all around her. Where were the others?
‘I have to make sure they’re all right.’ the Eladrie determinedly told herself as she began casting another, more complicated spell…
“Attention all idiots!” The voice over the speakers sneered out over the ever-changing music that the DJ didn’t seem to have any control over. “We discussed this. Though the Outsider is a priority, you target the spellcasters first if you can! Must I do everything myself?”
Thrumming with sudden power, the turrets above them finally opened fire, shooting almost indiscriminately at the crowd below, cutting several of the brawling patrons down before they even knew what hit them.
Chanting and waving her hands around as quickly as she dared, Alora maintained her concentration of her spell, completing it just in time as the turrets finally tracked her as she summoned a great holy aura of light to cover herself that would give her the protection she needed, the Armour of Faith deflecting the lights of the laser turrets harmlessly aside.
A loud bark sounded out, and knowing Dante’s warning for what it was, Alora spun around to see two Regulators, who were both Vulstas fighting through the brawl to get to her. Unlike Rena, these two were males, both carrying plasma shotguns but unable to get effective shots off through the crowd. Not that something like that stopped them from trying…
“Stevarin!” she yelled out, pointing her wand at one of the two who was about to open fire on a downed ganger, as with a flash of yellow light their movements slowed, quickly freezing stiff as a board as they failed to resist the Holding spell, their eyes widening in sheer terror as the gang-mates of their would-be-victim set upon them in a fury with fists and clubs, before a spell cast from the rafters sent all of them clattering to the ground clutching at their minds.
‘One of the enemy mages providing overwatch.’ Alora noted as she quickly looked up for any sign of them, but not seeing them. ‘Under a veil of invisibility no doubt.’
Feeling the dull impact of a shotgun blast dissipate harmlessly against her magical armour, Alora spun round to the other Regulator, cursing her moment of hesitation as the Vulsta drew a long knife with which to get in close with.
Remembering her fight with Izadora all those weeks ago, Alora waved her arms around quickly to summon a bubble of light to engulf her, before quickly following it up with an explosive flash that thundered all around her like a flashbang grenade, while leaving her unharmed.
As the light dissipated, she deftly avoided the blind lunge from the temporarily blinded Regulator, before jamming her spear into his stomach, using her reach advantage to dodge the desperate swipes he sent her way.
“Garrash!” Alora spoke a quick cantrip, using her affinity with life magic to channel poison through the top of her spear. Her already-weakened attacker quickly slumped to the ground as the debilitating effects took hold, but before Alora could pull her spear back, she was hit by a spell that came from above, disrupting her magic and causing her magical spear and armour to disappear.
‘Damn! It’s that mage above me!’ Alora cursed to herself as she quickly ran underneath one of the balconies, as the turrets chased after her with gunfire. ‘You want to hide in the shadows like a coward? I’ve got something to fix that!’
Quickly making sure there weren’t any immediate threats around, Alora quickly rummaged through her pockets for a wand of white crystal she had prepared about a year ago that still had a few charges. Casting quickly, she levelled it towards the ceiling and prayed to all the gods that she was aiming it at where the enemy mage was hiding,
“Glitasha!”
A spray of shining, sparkling particles of light shot out of her wand, puffing out to cover a good half of the ceiling, and as they began to fall to the floor and latch on to the people below, Alora spotted a huddled form by one of the rafters.
‘Got you!’ She thought with satisfaction.
“Ilthax! Get out of there!” The voice over the speakers warned, presumably the name of her target, but it was too late…
“Solaris!” Alora yelled, throwing her palms out in a thrust as a great javelin of light shot out of her palms. The enemy mage had barely moved before it impaled their centre of mass, sending what must have been a fireball spell way off target which blasted apart a huge, gaping hole in the back wall.
The invisible form of the glitterdust-covered mage slowly began to materialise as the blue-furred, ape-like Regulator clutched at their chest in pain, with wide eyes of disbelief at the spear of hard light that had gone right through their torso. As their flight spell dissipated, their lifeless body fell three stories from the rafters to slam down on the ground floor below.
“Nice one Alora!” the Eladrie heard the voice call from behind her as Nika came up next to her, the Kizun bleeding from a cut on her face. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. But we need to find them now!” Alora frantically told them as she took in the sheer state of chaos around them. Many broken bodies lay amongst the carnage, and though the Eladrie knew some would likely be still alive at the end of the night, she knew that many would not.
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Nika agreed with a grim expression.
*****
First/Previous
Looks like Jack, Nika and Alora are holding on for now! But how long can they keep it up?
Don't forget to check out The Galactic High Info Sheet! If you want to remind yourself of certain characters and factions. One new chapter a week can seem like a while! Don't forget! You all have the ability to leave comments and notes to the entries, which I encourage you to do!
I am now on Royal Road! I would appreciate your support in getting myself off the ground there with your lovely comments, reviews and likes!
If you're impatient for the next chapter, why not check out my previous series?
As always I love to see the comments on what you guys think!
Don't forget to join the discussion with us on Discord, and consider checking me out on Youtube if you haven't already! Until next week, it's goodbye for now!

As the last orange light of day drained from the sky, the living dead in Club Vlad rose. Max the skeleton and Jessie the…not skeleton…sewed up the gaping Y-shaped incision on Dom’s chest under Merrick’s direct supervision. Dom sat there, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. He’d woken with a headache and a feeling of cold, and even now, he could feel the dull throb above his left eye. It felt like someone was tearing his brain apart with a fork. He had told Merrick, and Merrick had nodded sadly. “Is my brain rotting?”
“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:

1. A corpse that (allegedly) woke up and dipped out
2. A dead girl who’d been stabbed in the heart with a piece of wood after somehow ingesting the blood of three different people.
3. Some missing kids
4. Oh, and both bodies - the girl’s and the runaway corpses’ - had the same weird fungus in their heart cavities.

All of this - even the missing kids, Vanessa felt - was related. She just didn’t know how. The only answer that half way fit was that both of those bodies were vampires. Like…what’s a vampire but a dead body that gets up and walks around at night? And how do you kill a vampire? Why, you drive a piece of wood through its heart.
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.

Hey yall, Sorry to bother you all, so am doing the Odin project right now , its a open source free bootcamp, www.odinproject.com
And am in the DataBase section and am following the Ruby on Rails path, so the thing is, am actually working as a QA engineer for the past 10 months, after changing roles from a Support Role in my current company, so its purely manual testing here, we are planning to stsrt automation and i dont see it any time pretty soon actually probably in after 2 years or something , so I been following Odin project from Feb-March 2022 and been here and there doing stuff, so from the past 8 months I been trying to be serious with this, cause I eventually started enjoying the coding process and the whole shift to a proper IT role kinda gave my head a bang and I kinda think I can do this!! So coming to the point, I had a word with ny QA lead and mentioned am studying web development and would like to switch my role to a Developer if its possible , she was absolutely encouraging by the way and we discussed a lot, so apparently there are 3 QAs in total including my lead, and 1 person is on maternity leave and she will come back by August middle, so my Lead was like , once she comes back we can definitely help you with switching meanwhile keep on continuing studying, so she asked me to which part would I like to switch to ? as this is our current stack,( she has stated for me to request a email and she will approve it when the time comes)
Frontnd: We got 3 websites or components primarily, Were we use Angular mainly for our website, Vue.js for a single separate component
Backnd/Middle ware : We currently use Go mostly, although one of the component use Java still,
And our DB runs mostly on : Surreal DB, whereas one part still uses MSSQLDB, use Benthos to do data streaming and upload data and KeyCloak for authorization and authentication , and REDDIS db as well for token cleacache , AzureCloud is our server by the way, (this is what i think its there in our company, am not entirely sure of this)
So she was asking which one would I like to go with ? Front end or Middleware, so am confused, on which one should i go with? Middleware with go, or frontend with angular
, I hope i will be be able to start atleast a lil bit of angular and will be able to start doing angular in my company ( the front lead has promised to give me small tasks to check whether I am compete enough) . as the order in Odin project is Ruby on Rails, Advanced HTML and css, Javascript, React, so i thought i will skip Ruby on rails and proceed to advanced html and css and j, then start with angular
or should I go with GO and with middleware ( am not entirely sure on this, cause frontend gives me more fun right now ) , or Should I continue my Odin project and try to complete the course and manage my work

Understanding the Importance of Digital Marketing for Small Businesses
Digital marketing has become increasingly important for small businesses to reach and engage with their target audience. In today's digital landscape, having an online presence is crucial for the success and growth of any small business.
Understanding the importance of digital marketing is the first step for small businesses to effectively utilize various digital channels and strategies to promote their products or services. Digital marketing encompasses multiple tactics, including search engine optimization (SEO), social media marketing, email marketing, and content marketing.
By implementing well-planned digital marketing strategies, small businesses can improve online visibility, attract more potential customers, and boost their sales and revenue. Additionally, digital marketing allows for more targeted and measurable campaigns, enabling small businesses to track the performance of their efforts and make data-driven decisions.
Top 5 Affordable Digital Marketing Strategies for Small Businesses
Many small business owners are hesitant to invest in digital marketing due to perceived high costs. The good news is that small businesses can leverage several affordable digital marketing strategies.
In this blog, we'll explore the top 5 affordable digital marketing strategies that small businesses can implement to drive results:
Search Engine Optimization (SEO): Optimizing your website and content for search engines is a cost-effective way to improve your online visibility and attract more organic traffic.
Social Media Marketing: You can leverage platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn to connect with your target audience and share valuable content with little to no budget.
Email Marketing: Building an email list and sending regular newsletters or promotional content is a direct way to engage with your customers and drive conversions.
Content Marketing: Creating and sharing informative, entertaining, or educational content can help establish your business as an industry authority and attract potential customers.
Local Listings: Ensuring your business is accurately listed on directories like Google My Business, Yelp, and industry-specific sites can boost your local visibility and credibility.
Social Media Marketing on a Shoestring Budget
One key advantage of social media marketing is that many of its core features are free to use. Platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram allow you to create business profiles, share content, and engage with your followers at no cost. The key is to develop a content strategy that resonates with your audience and encourages interaction.
Additionally, numerous free tools are available that can help you streamline your social media efforts. From scheduling platforms to analytics dashboards, these tools can save you time and ensure your campaigns are as effective as possible. Utilizing these resources can create a robust social media presence without draining your marketing budget.
The key to successful social media marketing on a shoestring budget is to focus on quality over quantity. Develop a content calendar highlighting your most valuable offerings and producing consistent, engaging posts. Engage with your followers, respond to comments, and participate in relevant discussions to build relationships and increase brand awareness.
Leveraging Search Engine Optimization (SEO) to Boost Online Visibility
Search engine optimization (SEO) is critical to any successful digital marketing strategy. By optimizing your online content and website for search engines, you can significantly improve your visibility and reach among your target audience.
Effective SEO involves various techniques, including keyword research, on-page optimization, link building, and content marketing. By incorporating relevant keywords, structuring your content strategically, and building high-quality backlinks, you can enhance your website's search engine rankings and attract more organic traffic.
Moreover, staying up-to-date with the latest SEO trends and algorithm updates is essential to maintaining your online presence and competitiveness. Regularly analyzing your website's performance, monitoring your competitors, and making data-driven adjustments to your SEO strategy can help you stay ahead of the curve.
Cost-Effective Content Marketing to Attract and Engage Your Audience
Content marketing is a powerful tool for attracting and engaging your target audience, but it doesn't have to break the bank. You can create compelling content that resonates with your audience by leveraging cost-effective digital marketing strategies without draining your marketing budget.
One of the most budget-friendly approaches is to focus on organic social media marketing. Platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn offer opportunities to share valuable, informative content with your followers at little to no cost. Utilize these channels to showcase your expertise, share industry insights, and engage with your audience meaningfully.
Optimizing your website for search engine visibility is a cost-effective tactic. By incorporating relevant keywords, creating informative blog posts, and ensuring a smooth user experience, you can improve your website's organic search rankings and attract a steady stream of qualified leads without paid advertising.
Email marketing is also highly cost-effective to nurture relationships with your audience. Craft engaging newsletters, promotional campaigns, and personalized messages to stay top-of-mind and encourage repeat business or referrals.

Feeling some writers block for the current arc I’m doing. Was wondering if anyone would be willing to help give me some ideas to help make things more interesting.
So just to give some premise the story is oc focused, although the did just infiltrate a young Weiss’s birthday party by being forced to crossdress as a young g debutante(I know there’s an oc thread, but I feel like I’d get more info here rather than there, even if a lot of it becomes basically hate mail) and takes place before the events of RWBY, at present time Ruby would be around 7 and the mc would be around 11. Anyways the arc involves the main character and his grandfather heading north to a hidden fortress where he meets one of his grandfathers oldest comrades.
The area is kind of like an old Slavic themed town surrounding a metallic black fortress which looked like it came out of a sci fi story.
Currently planned to have the mc meet with a new “team member” (story isn’t truly team focused though.) Then have him talk with his grandfathers comrade who reveals the fortress is built on a rift between worlds where they have imprisoned a beast of the apocalypse(which is actually pretty common, his grandfather and his comrades dealt with things capable of destroying the world all the time) and is used to travel to other worlds by delvers who bring back technology and see if they are compatible with the laws of remnant. Later maybe have some other people from there mcs generation try their hand at world delving.
There is a spirit co-inhabiting Lans body who belonged to a civilization pre dating the arrival of the gods of light and darkness. I plan to have its presence interfere with the world delving process and bring the mc and his traveling team to a place inhabited by the old gods.
Here i get a little uncertain how to proceed. 1. I’m uncertain whether I’d like them to delve another world and be pulled in on their way back or be pulled in. In the beginning of their delve. 2. His grandfather and his comrade are essentially demigods and could protect them from most things(even warp problems likely wouldn’t be an issue) and the old gods aren’t exactly dangerous, in fact they let the mortals just have the old universe when they rebelled against the gods(basically a bunch of chill logic based gods). So I’m not sure how to really give a sense of danger. 3. I’m not sure I should have a whole team together, you see one of the team i originally planned to have the mc meet in another arc, but that’s the only important part of that arc so I decided to just fuse it into this one, but I’m uncertain how much the character dynamics and interactions should change because of this. Or if I should even remove that arc in the first place.
All in all I think I just find the details I use to flesh out my current arc a little dry and boring, and was wondering if anyone had a good idea to make things more interesting. Like maybe a kind of world they visit before being pulled into the realm of the old gods. I’m running on empty, the only thing I can think of is a dark souls like world but that seems a bit too difficult to make interesting in the short term.
I dunno, I haven’t really talked to anyone about my writing in detail for a long time, and I’m at the time in my life when inspiration and motivation are running dry so I thought I’d just give things a try and ask around.
If you want more details feel free to ask, I’ll try to respond as best I can. And on the off chance you actually want to look at the story: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9860028/1/RWBY-The-Journeys-Of-Lan

I went to college for a very niche job. When I graduated, I got the exact job that I was looking for, except it ended up being my worst nightmare. The job wasn't a set schedule, and I wouldn't know my schedule for the next week until a few days before. This did not fit with my lifestyle as I am a huge planner, and I have a family who likes to plan months in advance. I was constantly saying "no I can't go, I have to work on weekends" or "I won't know until the Wednesday before when the schedule comes out". I hated it. Not to mention, I was being told that I was getting setup to be fired. But that's a story for a different day.
I knew I wanted to leave my job, but I wanted to stay in the same sort of industry that offered a 9-5 M-F job. I ended up finding one that I applied for in September. After the interview process, I ended up getting hired in November. Now that I have been in this job for a few months, I am starting to notice some red flags. I wanted to get your thoughts on if this job was a mistake, or if it will be worth it in the long run.
Red Flags:
The largest red flag is when she threw me under the bus to a client. One of her clients called and spoke with me about making a change. I gave him minimal information and said I would let her know to contact him. I said there would be a change in price, but did not give specifics and said she would have to decide the price. He called her and said I told him an exact price which was way lower than what it should be. She called me and said "NEVERRRR, tell a price to one of MY clients". I was scared and said "Yeah, I don't....whyyy? What happened". She told me and then called me back later to read the email she sent him. I kid you not, she emailed this client, "sorry about her, she's new and apparently not as much of a help as I had hoped"...
My boss has worked alone pretty much her whole life. She started the company in the 90s and ran it herself until she went bankrupt and had the current owner buy the company. I did some research once and it appears that she gave up all of the rights to the company 2 or 3 times, but it was hard to find information.
She had about 3 assistants before me who all quit before staying a year.
My boss has told me many times that she's "not good with numbers" when running reports and looking over bills.
She never listens to me when I say I found an error. She always twists my words to make it seem like she didn't do anything wrong. I think most of the time she just doesn't understand, but that is a problem too. Whenever I make a mistake, she makes sure to call me out on it. Which is fine, I accept my mistakes. But she says "I'm not being rude, I'm just saying". Idk I just feel like that's a weird thing to say.
When I was being interviewed, she asked if I was willing to ask questions. I said "yes, but sometimes in my current job, I get made to feel stupid for asking questions. Whenever I feel that way, I tend to not ask the question again even if I didn't understand because I don't like being made to feel dumb for asking." her response was "honey, that is NOT a good trait". I guess that's fair, and I respected her honesty. However, I told her this so that she understood I was sensitive to situations like that. Shockingly, she makes me feel stupid a lot of times.
Lastly, she is not professional at all. She never wears a bra. Scratches her butt inside her pants all of the time in front of me. Her office is a mess. Her organization is non-existent. We "owe" money to a lot of companies because she can't keep things in order. (Really we don't owe, but she won't contact them to explain why and so the bill just gets bigger and bigger and she doesn't pay it) Etc...
Pros:
My lifestyle is great, I love my free time and never take it for granted. I am able to go to church. I know that's not everyone's cup of tea, but it makes me feel good every week. She is a very caring person outside of work. She has a big heart with non-work related things and always checks to make sure I am okay. The schedule is very flexible. The pay is much better. She is almost to retirement age, so I feel like she won't be here very long, she's also made it clear that the company can be mine if I want it when she leaves. The actual responsibilities of the job, I love.
Overall, I like the job. I just don't trust her. Did I make a mistake and start lightly exploring other options? Or should I stay until she leaves?

im trying to see whos going to the Manchester major as im going solo without a plan.
If you're down to link up feel free to join here (may also plan hiking trips, sightseeing etc) https://discord.gg/BCNkMD85Th

My boyfriend and I have been dating and living together for six years! We've been good friends since middle school! (If you're into zodiacs, I'm a march Aries and he's a January Aquarius) I feel like everything was going great until I stopped working to go to cosmetology school. Going into cosmo school I knew this was going to be a slow process to start making my own money so I had a plan on at least working overnights or part-time and then going to school full-time, luckily my boyfriend offered to give me a $500 allowance every two weeks and told me just to focus on school and he'll help me financially.For context we live with my parents and siblings, he really doesn't pay bills here unless my parents asks him to help with electricity but other than that, all he has is his phone bill and car insurance,No chores or anything as well. NGL I have a bad spending habit, l was used to buying everything myself (Hair, nails and makeup I bought that all myself) so $500 went away pretty fast nothing too bad but my account would go in the negatives, maybe like -$10 at the most but I would ask him if he could just send me at least $12 so my account will not be in the negatives(and avoid overdraft fees) , this was turned into a big deal with him. He stop talking to me for about 2 1/2 weeks(this happened about three times.) His way of ignoring me was getting home from work and he would just stay in his car until 1 am(off of work at 10:30pm and was home by 10:45pm) when he would come inside he would sit in the living room in the dark and anytime l'd walk by He would turn his phone off, so I wouldn't see him . I was the one who had to ask him what was wrong and his reason for ignoring me. His reason was because I was stressing him out cause my account went into the negatives, it really pissed me off since we live together at my parents house and just felt childish of him ignoring me.After I had a "talk" with him (really it was just me asking him what's wrong and if he's OK, kind of felt like I was babying him) he got over it the next day, but the third time he ignored me I told Him that "This is very childish of you and why do you not want to talk things out? If you do this one more time l'm done" he hasn't done it since.
Another point is our sex life is gone. Again, I live with my parents and three siblings so it's a little hard to get intimate, especially in a Mexican household, someone is always home, but when we do have alone time he would rather play Fortnite, sleep all day or work on his car. I feel like I'm also to blame since I did let myself go so that could be another reason why we're not intimate. what I also mean by intimate is him not even wanting to hang out with me on his days off. He's heavily into Godzilla, anime,cars and video games, so of course, anytime he wanted to do some thing or go to an event that he's interested in and I'm not, l would still go because I wanted to be with him and have a good time but when it comes to things that I want to do he acts like it's the worst thing ever, also feels forced. So majority of the time l'm going to the movies or going to a restaurant I'm just doing it by myself because he doesn't want to go. I've also been home alone more lately in order for me to save money. I just stopped getting my hair and nails done and I just stopped going out in general. Unfortunately I did pick up a smoking habit Since all I do is watch him play Fortnite or his other interests, I decided I'll at least make it fun and get high while watching. He says that he doesn't mind me smoking, but there are times where he acts like he's better than me because he smoked when he was younger and not now as an adult. He's also been working a lot lately, He works at a warehouse so 10 hour shifts four days straight and he has three days off, but he's been working six days out of the week now and only has Saturdays off, but on his days off, he sleeps all day and then stays up all night playing video games. I try not to get mad at him because I understand he's tired, but if he has plans with his friends he is up early in the morning and is with them all day and I do get a little jealous of it. At this point, I really feel we're both using each other. He gives me an allowance and he lives in a house rent free. I still love him, but I just feel nothing back. He says he still loves me and I quote " well I still give you money and fix your car so that should mean something right?!" I don't need a pity party. I just need other peoples opinions. This is only a very small portion of my relationship that I am posting here, but from what l have written on here (can provide more stories/info if needed) I just need to know your thoughts and what would you do in my situation.

I feel so banal just putting this down.
I've been married for almost 24 years now. There is way more background than I can put in here. [edit: Looks like I did my best though lol.]
In that timespan, in roughly chronological order, I've become a parent twice over, lost my mind and gone to outpatient mental health at a local hospital a couple of times, considered suicide, sat in the dark banging my head against a wall, found antidepressants which saved my life, started drinking, lost jobs, stopped drinking, started therapy, got in shape, found jobs, got out of shape, started drinking and hiding it, stopped drinking again, and finally concluded my marriage is a fucked up sham.
I keep a journal from time to time. The ones from 20 years ago are was full of "She is such a control freak bitch" vitriol about events I don't even remember anymore. The ones from 10 years ago? Same. The way I feel now? Same. She's to my mind narcissistic and expects everyone to act and change to her whims and has no patience when her requests aren't followed TO THE LETTER.
My role, and I am trying not to hyperbolize, boils down to: Earn money. Shop and cook meals. Fix things when they break. Find things when wife loses them. Unwaveringly support her home business, which involves moving hundreds of pounds of inventory from A to B and back to A again. Perform other tasks as ordered, and get an earful if I don't do them right.
My 9-5 job is... complicated. I'll just say every day is a new exciting ball of stress. I'm very very very appreciated there, but it is difficult for a variety of reasons. I come home most days feeling beat down and exhausted.
Now it gets specific.
Lately my octogenarian mother has started that downhill mental slide and my wife ostensibly has been "helping" me with her - which practically speaking means telling my mom what she needs to do using me as a conduit. (My father died years ago after a similar mental decline. My mother was his caretaker at that time, more power to her.) My wife has always been very vocal with her negative opinions about my wrong-side-of-the-tracks brother (who lives in mom's house in my area, is 50 and can't keep a job) and my wrong-side-of-the-aisle father (RIP he was really a nice guy) and more and more lately how difficult it is dealing with my mom. ("But you can't be mad at her, she can't help it" is always her follow-up comment.)
A week or so ago I got an abrupt phone message that mom was up and driving to Florida (a 14-hour trip from where we live) with my ne'er-do-well brother to get her snowbird RV working, cleaned up and on the market. This would conflict with some very necessary appointments I had made with her and I was furious at being blindsided. Mom was unwilling to postpone for admittedly valid reasons. My wife offered to call her and discuss this on my behalf since I didn't feel I could keep a level mind. I got a text from my mother shortly after that call asking if my wife had yelled at her own mother in that way\*.
I passed that on to wife with the question "What did you say?" and got back "I only spoke firmly with her" and she was overreacting and that I should text mom back and defend my wife. I texted and said something akin to "She called to save you from how much *I* would have yelled."
Fine. And life goes on. More and more shit hits various fans. TWO DAYS AGO we need to schedule other family things and I am interrupted at work with a photograph of an email on her computer screen showing some proposed info. I pull my attention away from what I'm doing and apparently take too long to sort the two months of events in my mind and she gets frustrated until she's yelling at me over the phone, "It's all RIGHT THERE IN THE DOC I sent, can't you read it? Why is this so hard?" and I kneejerk answered, "If this is the same way you talked to my mom that time, it is DEFINITELY yelling."
She abruptly hung up on me and I got a text, "Just read what I sent and then go to hell." I wrote back "I'm not sure why you think that tone of voice is ever helpful" and got radio silence.
We have normal life yesterday. I go to work. I pick up kids. I make dinner. I mow the yard. Every time I want to peel away to relax since it's been solid since I woke up, I am told how much stuff there is still to do. So I help trim the dogs. I help get springtime plants ready. I think, "I am only useful as someone who performs tasks here. I am a robot." (This is also a theme in my on-again off-again journals.) Finally go to bed.
This morning I am NO SOONER AWAKE than she starts in with how the other day I criticized how she talks to my mom and how she has THANKLESSLY done ALL THIS STUFF TO HELP ME OVER THE YEARS and in return she gets tone-policed and she doesn't appreciate it and the hell with everything and she'll just stop trying to help if that's my reaction. I have no response at that point (I am literally horizontal still, and it's pre-coffee) so I shower and go downstairs w/out saying anything.
We get into it a bit this morning. I try to get across the point that her helping out IS appreciated and what's NOT appreciated is raising her voice and being abrasive and I don't want to be spoken to like that. (Anymore.) She just gets louder, which is ironic, and goes back into how... well... something. I honestly don't remember because in not my finest hour I ended up doing a duck beak with my hand and muttering "blah blah blah." It goes over as well as you'd expect, but I swear to god it was more of how she's a victim because I told her I don't want to get yelled at. That more or less ended the conversation after 15 minutes of back and forth.
Throughout it though I kept trying to rephrase stuff to make it clear and she kept whatabouting. I pointed out "A week ago I told you I didn't want to sit there and be yelled at and you said 'Oh I'm sorry your highness,' do you remember that?" (This actually happened.) She said? "Keep your voice down, people will hear you." I was actually pumping up a bike tire in the garage at that point to help her with today's plans that SHE had made. (She opened the door to ask if I had anything I wanted to say. I said it. ONOZ KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN. Why did you ask me then?)
She reiterated that it's not HER fault that I get triggered by this tone, and EVERY time she does this I "take it personally." I said "I don't take it PERSONALLY, I don't like to be yelled at!" and asked, "So if you help with things then you get free license to yell at me whenever you want?" And -- finally!! -- the answer to that question is, it turns out, yes.
Some points:

• We have seen a marriage counselor various times over the years.
• She wants me to be more open - more communication and feedback.
• But not THAT KIND OF communication, I guess.
• And definitely not about her or things that upset me.

tl;dr:

Wife gets upset and raises her voice and her attitude is "That's how I talk, get used to it." I get upset and raise my voice and her attitude is "Why are you so angry? You have issues, you need to talk to a therapist." (Which I do, actually.) I finally called her out on her yelling and got - surprise - yelled at for it.

So that's a giant spew of stuff. I've tried to be as neutral as possible.
I'm absolutely empty. I am feeling buried under so many responsibilities and they seem to keep piling on. The one person who is supposed to be there for me is treating it like some gigantic unappreciated favor. I voice negative thoughts or try to set boundaries (difficult for me for many reasons) and get shut down or dismissed. I had to call in sick this morning, since I feel so... well... Idunno. But I'm so much of it that I created a throwaway account to post here. I feel like crying but can't.
I guess the meds have helped, I'm not feeling self-destructive. I just want to not feel so shitty about trying to stand up for myself.
Thanks for reading.
---
\* The answer: yes, she actually DID yell at her own mother that way. Brought her to f*ing TEARS on more than one occasion. MIL passed away a decade ago, wonderful lady I miss her a lot.

Hello I'm looking for a co-DM or some players willing to play masters for my FGO text rp game on my friend's server where we are running a bunch of different text rps. I have completed 90% of the setup for the first singulairty, but was looking for someone to help moderate, DM, and setup for future singularities. I'm also looking for players to pair up with some of the servants that we got since there are quite a few free spaces. Our system is loosely based on the popular fate system mixed in with terms and action economy of standard 5e, Overall though it's a custom made system that is open to adjustments in the future after play testing it in the first singularity. Players don't neccesarily need to have the best knowledge of fate in order to participate, there are plenty of resources on the server to explain what you need to know along with me and other knowledgable players there to help. For the co-DM I would prefer someone with good knowledge of the fate series so I don't gotta explain everything, since of course a DM is someone you go to for info and help. The job mainly entails NPC creation, plot directing and planning, and character submission reviewing. The co-DM doesn't need to actively be in the rp, but needs to participate to some degree.

If you're interested you can dm me on reddit or add me on discord, my username is solebloom. If you have any questions let me know.

I'm considering starting a Pilates studio but feeling quite scared about it. I've been doing Pilates for over a year and I'm keen on owning a studio. In my area which is very posh (I feel my business could attract steady quality clients, there are no nearby Pilates studios, and I wonder if it's due to high rates, as all studios are at least 5 miles away .
I'm curious about what it takes to start a studio, as I have limited experience in this area. How difficult is it to get certified, and is certification necessary to own a studio?
I'm planning to start with used reformers, aiming for 8-12 units. I'd offer 30-minute free trial classes once a week and unlimited classes in barre, yoga, and strength training. Currently listening to a few podcasts such as 'Pilates teachers' manual to educate myself.
I had a food truck business that didn't work out due to industry challenges, which made going back to a 9-5 job tough. I currently work in commercial real estate (2 years now and can easily look for space with the tools my work provide, currently make about $60k a year . I have great credit about $30,000 in savings from my previous business , . Currently looking at spaces in my area $17 NNN 2000 SF . I wouldn't quit my 9-5 pm , they are very flexible .
My husband owns a construction company, and while his income has decreased post-COVID, he's supportive of my venture . My sister suggests opening an affordable daycare Like she has because she claims Pilates isn't an essential business, but I'm drawn to the idea of a Pilates studio and she doesn't seem to think they are that profitable so I figured I would ask here on expectation.
I'm seeking advice and experiences from others who have started Pilates studios or similar businesses. Any insights or feedback would be greatly appreciated. I'm determined not to let doubts hold me back from pursuing this dream but I am still a realist. Also, as a minority in a predominantly white, conservative area, I'm nervous about how my venture will be received. Any advice would be helpful too on what i should expect as far as worst case and best scenarios if I do indeed venture towards that route .
Thank you in advance for any guidance you can provide.

Hey Durango! You guys might have seen a musician playing out of his converted van in town yesterday. He's staying one more night in Durango and will be playing tonight in front of 1106 Oak Drive at 7pm.
His performance is free though he's taking tips so we want to make sure there's enough people showing up to make it worth his time!
Here is his website/links to his music for those who are interested. This is a residential neighborhood so no food around, bring a chair if you're gonna come!
And no I'm not Eugene- I'm one of the people who asked him to come play one more night (as long as enough people show up). Hope to see some of you there!