Best allergist near me

Mary Anne and Wanda were the best of friends All through their high school days Both members of the 4H club, both active in the FFA After graduation Mary Anne went out lookin' for a bright new world Wanda looked all around this town and all she found was Earl Well, it wasn't two weeks after she got married that Wanda started gettin' abused She'd put on dark glasses and long sleeved blouses And makeup to cover a bruise Well, she finally got the nerve to file for divorce She let the law take it from there But Earl walked right through that restraining order And put her in intensive care Right away Mary Anne flew in from Atlanta On a red eye midnight flight She held Wanda's hand and they worked out a plan And it didn't take 'em long to decide That Earl had to die Good bye, Earl Those black-eyed peas They tasted alright to me, Earl You feelin' weak? Why don't you lay down and sleep, Earl Ain't it dark wrapped up in that tarp, Earl The cops came by to bring Earl in They searched the house high and low Then they tipped their hats and said, "Thank you ladies If you hear from him let us know" Well, the weeks went by and spring turned to summer And summer faded into fall And it turns out he was a missing person who nobody missed at all So the girls bought some land at a roadside stand Out on highway 109 They sell Tennessee ham and strawberry jam And they don't lose any sleep at night 'Cause Earl had to die Good bye, Earl We need a break, let's go out to the lake, Earl We'll pack a lunch, and stuff you in the trunk, Earl Well, is that alright? Good! Let's go for a ride, Earl, hey Ooh hey hey hey Ah hey hey hey Well, hey hey hey

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

Since we were about 2, BFF and I have been best friends. 19 years later and now we won’t talk to me anymore. Now, this isn’t the first time she’s ghosted me or been at me for something trivial or for what seems to be no reason. The last time I saw her was almost 5 months ago, and I’ve tried to talk to her since, but she shuts me down.
When she last texted me asking if I wanted to hang out, I told her I couldn’t since I am a full time student and had classes to attend that day, which was often the case when she wanted to hang out. It’s not like I didn’t want to, I simply couldn’t,
Now whenever I try to text her, even just to say hi, she doesn’t respond. Or even worse, she’ll read the message and won’t respond. If i want any updates on how she’s doing, I have to text her mom, as her and I are still close, she’s like a second mother to me.
My BFF and I were like sisters growing up, and now it feels like I’ve been cast aside and thrown away. It hurts me a lot that we don’t talk anymore, because I care about her so much and always want to be there for her.
If I have done something to offend her or upset her, I wish she would just talk to me so we could work things out. But even if she will no longer talk to me, she will always be like a sister to me and I’ll always be there for her.

I'll say it here and to anyone who asks - Happy Salmon is a perfect game. It's an actual ten. Happy Salmon is a work of frantic genius. Which is impressive, considering it's barely a game. I'm getting ahead of myself though, let's take a look at what it is first.
Happy Salmon is a real-time game in which players are trying to get rid of a deck of cards by performing the actions on it together with another player. There's four actions; a high five, a fist bump, switching places with another player, and the titular "happy salmon" where players slap each-other's forearms in a way that's meant to simulate a fish flapping around in dry land. During a game of Happy Salmon, you're trying to find another player to perform the action you have at the top of your deck with. Found another player with the same card at the top of their deck? Perform the action, drop the card and you're off to your next brief stint of team work! Can't find anyone? Put that card on the bottom of your deck and try your luck with the next card. First player to go through their deck all the way, wins!
Now I'm normally not one for real-time games for two reasons. One, I'm not usually good at keeping track of multiple simultaneously changing points of data (which is why I'm so bad at Ligretto, for example) or they're much too loud (which is why I don't like Pit or On A Scale of One to Dinosaur). Happy Salmon gets around both of those by being very, very brief and by inherently being about cooperation. The data points still change pretty quickly, but the other players are interested and invested in working together with you - matching with you means they get closer to winning as well! And even though the game is still loud, the loudness is hyper-condensed to a brief two-minute burst where people just mostly shout the name of an action before quickly moving on. But the cooperation aspect is really why I like this game a lot.
Boardgames as a competition have something kind of cutthroat to them. I don't mind that at all, in fact I particularly love that, but there's something really nice about a game that rewards the winner for essentially being the best at working together with their opponents. Sure there's randomness; the cards don't all come out in the same order, so the person drawing all their fist bump cards while everyone else is doing high fives and slapping forearms is going to have a harder time winning. I just don't really mind it that much when the game is as short as this though. Besides, one of my friends (who's won the most games of Happy Salmon) mostly won because he was good at figuring out when to move on from the card he was holding - he won not because his deck is shuffled the best, but because he's good at figuring out when the thing he's holding doesn't work with what the others have.
But really, I just love Happy Salmon so much because it has generated some of my favourite memories of me playing games ever. When my friends last came over to play serious games, I pulled this out as an ice breakewarmup game, and we ended up playing the final game without shirts on so we could more more quickly (as we were now obviously more aerodynamic). When I went to my first boardgame night with all new people, they suggested I play one round of this before I left. It was quite late and I didn't know these people, but I did it anyway because they promised it was quick and they were excited about it. After moving a table outside (so we wouldn't bother the others), we played six games in ten minutes and it was the most fun I had all evening.
Happy Salmon is really, really, really good. Not necessarily because it (used to) come(s) in a fish, or because its mechanics are revolutionary or because you'll be challenged mentally and spiritually while playing; it's so good because it makes some of the best use of the players that are standing around the table. If you don't mind getting a little bit silly with the people you're with and don't mind coming into physical contact with other players, you're going to have an absolute blast with this game.

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

So I signed up to Youhodler via inbox pounds for the free £10 to make an account and just verify my ID, I’m not smart enough to do the complicated multiHODL so I thought this was personally the best option for me.
But during the signup stage I was still offered an area to input a referral code and I remembered a very old post by Tightasf_ck talking about stacking Monese referrals with the inbox pounds offer that was currently offered at the time for Monese, and thought I’d try the same with this and… IT WORKED!

1. I signed up via inbox pounds and entered a referral code during sign up
   
2. Verified my details on Youhodler and got a free £10 from inbox pounds
   
3. A few days later I was offered the Referral scheme options (I was offered $10 for a $100 deposit and $15 for the multiHODL task - but for this I have no idea what to do)
   

Ofcourse as usual, DO NOT deposit any money/ crypto onto YouHodler until the referral scheme promotional banners appear at the top of your app

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

I just got home from work literally 30 minutes ago, and as soon as I get off, my parents tell me that I have to go to dinner with my sister for my other sister’s birthday. So I get home and I’m trying to freshen up and change, since I literally just got home from work and I’m all sweaty and gross.
Then my fucking sister walks into my bedroom and tells me to hurry up because my parents are leaving. And not even a minute later, she comes in and tells me to hurry up. I fucking know what I’m doing and how fast I need to be. You don’t need to remind me every 20 seconds that I need to hurry, or else my parents are going to leave without me.
She does this multiple times, and at this point, she just says she’s done. She says I’m taking too long, and they’re leaving. I just got home literally 5 minutes ago. Im trying my best to get ready quickly. I tell her to just stay inside, because I don’t want to be the only one inside while everyone is waiting for me. But she just leaves me alone anyways.
I look in the mirror, and I start crying because I just look like a fucking mess. My hair is all messy, and my face is all sweaty. My makeup is all smeared, and I look so fucking ugly.
Then my dad comes in and tells me to hurry. I break down and I say I’m not going anymore. At this point, I’d rather just stay home. Then he tells me to quit fucking around, and to just get ready. I get really pissed and I just walk out and go into the car without saying anything. They clearly know I’m fucking mad, so my mom asks why I look so upset, and I start having a breakdown.
It’s so fucking embarrassing, but I start crying and I tell them that I absolutely hate being rushed. I’ve never liked being rushed. Even when I was a little girl. They fucking know this.
I know that I have to get ready quickly. I know what I have to do. I’m not fucking stupid. Then they just tell me that I’m fine, and I should just suck it up because it’s my sister’s birthday, and they don’t want my sour attitude to ruin it. I just got so overwhelmed, I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was overreacting, I don’t know. I wanted to just jump out of the car, but here I am. I’m in the car, on my way to the restaurant. I look like shit, and I feel like shit.
Thanks guys! :)

Hey all,
My impulses got the best of me and I bought way too many knives, so this one has to go. I believe I'm 3rd owner. The knife has not seen much use from any of the owners (see video).
knife Features:

• CPM 20CV wharnecliffe blade, satin finish
• Front flipper (can be spydie flicked as well)
• Skiff bearings (original also included)
• Green anodized Titanium Nugget floating backspacer
• Green anodized speed holes
• Timascus pocket clip
• Has not been sharpened.

you get the knife, pouch and the COA. I will ship USPS 2-3 Priority
$600 PPFF (retail value is $795 for this build type).
Chat me up!
​
Timestamp
Close up Video

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

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

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

To put it simply, you're a sociopath. A pathological liar who's apathy towards other people is only surpassed by your own victim complex. You are not a victim, your an abuser. Not in the physical aspect maybe, (though I believe if you were given the opportunity, you would be) but mentally, emotionally, verbally. You use your BPD as an excuse to treat the people you "care about" like trash and then apologize but never change. You refuse to take medication for your BPD, even as you admit that therapy isn't helping you. You're afraid medication will "change you". Yeah that's the fucking point, it's supposed to help you not treat everyone around you like they're all dog shit you stepped in. Yet, despite all that, I never blamed you. I gave you my unwavering support because I know mental health issues are more complex than that and can't be solved by just popping in a pill every now and then. But if therapy won't help and neither you or I know of any other treatments, then maybe try more than a week of medication.
Moving on, you are a complete and total "pick me" girl. If there ever was such a thing to describe someone like you. Because before me, you were trying to get with my best friend (who was already in a relationship). Once you realized he wasn't going to leave his girlfriend for you, a young single mother with mental health issues, you moved on to me. I'll freely admit that I saw your red flags and ignored them because I just really liked you. I didn't care that you had a baby, I'd have treated that kid like he was my own if you had given me the chance. I didn't care that you struggle with BPD and depression, I was willing to support you in your endeavors. But that wasn't good enough for long because eventually you dumped me for the first time and moved on to another one of my friends. Which sent me into a whole mental breakdown and caused me to start self-harming for the first time in my life. Looking back now, it seems so stupid of me to have let you get to me like that.
Anyway, that relationship with my other friend didn't last very long, did it? I made the mistake of reaching out to you a few months later and apologizing (for what, I'm not even sure. I guess, blaming you for my self-harming) and then suddenly we were talking again. Then we're dating again.
Wrinse and repeat that 4 more times and now we're here. The point where I've finally realized that you never actually saw me as a real option for a long-term relationship. I was a back-up option because I was safe. I'd never cheat, never call you names, and pretty much let you walk all over me. I'd fully support you in everything, pay your phone bill, buy you whatever you wanted (even as you pretended to not want me to), and never ask you to pay me back. The way I saw it, we were together, if I felt like buying you something, it was because I wanted to. Actually, I don't even think I was a back-up option, I think what I really was, was entertainment. Entertainment that would pay for itself and you. Once you were bored of me, you'd move on.
Anyway, I've finally figured out that I'm more than just a source of entertainment for a parasite like you. I'm not very good at talking, I'm kind of slow, I forget things a lot, and I'm not a 10 on the hotness scale. But I'm still better than you and I'll eventually find someone that sees that. I don't wish any ill will on you. I hope you find the help you need. I hope you meet someone better than me and treat them better than me too. But I'm not making excuses for you any longer. Right now, you're a terrible person and some part of me hopes you see this and you know it's about you. I hope it gives you the wake up you need.
I hope we never see each other again more though.

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Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Contact me if you are interested in Iman Gadzhi Courses by chatting me on +44 759 388 2116 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
I have all Iman Gadzhi courses (Agency Navigator, Agency Incubator, Copy Paste Agency).
Iman Gadzhi’s courses are one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency and how to grow it.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The courses of Iman Gadzhi include the following:

1. Agency Navigator course Core Curriculum
   
2. Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
   
3. Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
   
4. Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements, Live calls & More
   

The core concepts in Iman Gadzhi’c courses include:
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
- Getting Paid
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- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
If you are interested in Iman Gadzhi’s courses, contact us on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116 (Telegram: multistorecourses)
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Contact me to get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator by chatting me on +44 759 388 2116 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The topics inside Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course include:

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2. Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
   
3. Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
   
4. Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
   
5. Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
   

The lessons in Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator will teach you how to:
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
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- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Hi all,
i just recently joined. I've seen several photos of knives with pocket clips, either mounted tot he knife itself on on the key ring. Can any of you point me to a site that sells these? Any advice on the best ones?
I've got a nice Tinker, Classic, Midnight Manger and a locking evo grip, plus an older Wenger knife.

Dedicated and Diligent Job Seeker Available for 5-10 Hours of Daily Commitment
Hello Teams and Individuals,
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I recently completed my Bachelor of Science degree specializing in Biology in December, 2022. As a recent graduate, I am now actively searching for job opportunities across various fields to support myself during my upcoming Master's degree. program. As a versatile professional, I possess valuable experience in teaching high school-level science, chemistry, and middle school-level math. I am open to exploring different roles that align with my skills and qualifications.
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I just got my soundcore motion + and I heard that the eq setting make it way better. Can you give me the best one for your taste ? All the ones I seen were only from 3 years ago ...

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

Me (20M) and this girl (21F) are best friends and classmates. However, she frequently complains that I lack communication skills and have a terrible personality. She often perceives me as arrogant and condescending. Recently, she sent me a series of messages expressing how much I've hurt her and mistreated her over the past few months.
Despite her grievances, she continues to sit with me in class even when there are empty seats. Surprisingly, whenever I ask her to hang out, she agrees. She frequently seeks my help, and I always assist her wholeheartedly. She confides in me and shares her problems. Whenever I'm feeling down, she goes out of her way to uplift me. We even plan to start our own "start-up" together. She is the first person I reach out to when something good happens to me, and she genuinely celebrates my achievements, always encouraging me to strive for more. I have promised her that I will work on improving myself, and she has expressed her willingness to support me. She is the only person, aside from my family, with whom I feel comfortable sharing my emotions. I am truly grateful to have her in my life.
However, I find it perplexing that she constantly criticizes me as the worst person she's encountered, yet she remains by my side through both the highs and lows. To be honest, I don’t know what to think of our relationship?