Floating a bed ffxiv

Asking for advice and (mainly) commiseration.
Has anyone experienced situations where you have been told to put customer service before patient safety?
Two examples:

1. Two nurses are actively working with a PICC line. There is a five year old running around right behind them. One nurse, PICC line in hand, almost trips on this kid. Says to the kid, "I need you to go sit down over there, please". GRANDMA gets upset because kids feelings are hurt. Yes, let me just trip over her and rip out this PICC line and potentially cause a fatal embolism to this kid (my patient) in the bed. They complain. Management says I should have taken the time to explain why I needed her to sit down.

So, you want me to explain that I could kill this kid? I avoid hurting sibling's feelings but now the patient is even more anxious than he already is to save face in a legitimately critical safety issue?

1. Mother of patient is legit screaming at a nurse, because the nurse is refusing to change the 6 ft 1 inch, 140 lb patient by herself and tells mother that another staff member is on the way. Nurse gets told she should have changed the patient.

Are you guys fucking serious right now ? Nurse does not equal self sacrificing. Sorry, not sorry. Scene safety = number one priority. Patient safety = number one priority AFTER scene safety. I'm not hurting myself or my patient to save face.

So looking to start some simple composting to use in expanding vegtable garden beds. I have always bought commercial stuff previously.
Question is this. Should I be concerned about residual herbicides namely roundup when using corn stalks in the finished compost? I know this probably isn't an ideal ingredient in my compost but we have some beef cattle so I have a pretty large quantity of used cattle bedding and waste hay.
So my main ingredients to start would be cattle and chicken manure, used corn stalk cattle bedding and waste hay. We would add the typical garden type things from there but I thought this could get us going anyways.
Currently I pile everything and let it set for 6 months to a year to decompose good and then spread on our pastures. I have never had any grass die off or anything like that but wondering if garden vegetables and whatnot would be more sensitive? Also does the residual roundup leave or break down eventually?
Thanks for the help!

Typing this in this mood, 😂😂 😂😂😳🤯😂😂😳🤯😂😳 literally acting crazy, with crazy facial expressions and body gestures, looking left and right, eye rolling, laughing, pulling my hair, playing dead in bed, gazing straight, losing it and then laughing again.
This happens at night when my 8yr.old duaghter fell asleep. And when the sun rise up, lack of sleep, i need to pretend im strong. Smiling at my daughter, taking care of her. She is the reason i am delaying my death, carefully planning when..
Because i am tired serving food and it must only be the best! to my unmedicated paranoid schizophrenic mother, delusional histrionic grandmother who literally talks about herself every minute, never failing to remind her “sakripisyo” both of them, seemingly covertly narcissistic hiding amidst sickness, fragility, and old age.
I am an only child, a mushroom that just sprouted out of nowhere. It’s my husband supporting me. But i am tired. Parang ina at lola ka na lang ang binubuhay ko. At kailangn nila buhay donya! Matagal pa silang mamatay. We have exit plans but it’s not yet feasible..

I just needed a place to share this with. Mom passed last year. She was 47, I was 17.
Hey Mom. I miss you.
I don't really know where to start this. I'm moving through life as if there never was any resistance. As if everything was just in the exact right place. Nothing to ever worry about, no thought about things going wrong or not working out like I want them to.
Yet sometimes, I still feel so lost and alone. As if this sense of gliding through life was just me losing my grip of everything. As if nothing really had a meaning anymore, because the only person I'd really want to share this with isn't here to hear it anymore.
Whenever something went really well in life, when I did really well, the only person I wanted to share it with was you. Not because I felt like I had to validate myself to you. But because I knew that your pride in me was the strongest feeling of love I could ever get. Knowing that you were proud of me was what lifted me up and made me keep going all these years. And now that you are gone, I don't know what is going to keep me afloat when I'm giving up on myself.
You were my biggest believer and my most loyal supporter. You made sure the road was clear for me to head towards my goals. And to be honest, being your own cheerleader gets kind of tough sometimes.
Sometimes, I feel like the world is just ruling in my favor all the time, even if I can't see it at first. That things just magically fall into place, as if there was someone guiding me in the right direction, placing and removing obstacles so I'd find my way. Yet, I'm not sure if all of that is worth having lost you. If I'd not rather live a different, less exciting life, but have you by my side as I live it. Because the truth is, no matter how well it is going, I still feel like I am losing my grip every once in a while. Like I don't even know what I am doing this for. Sometimes, I just sit on my bed and wish that I could rest my head on your shoulder, that I could listen to your heartbeat and know that I'll be okay. That you would hold me and tell me that it is going to be alright, like you did all those times when I felt like I couldn't push through or that I was losing myself under the pressure of outside expectation.
I really do not like having to fight for myself. And I don't like knowing that I can't stop the hurting from getting a hold of me all over again. Losing people never stops. And I am not sure if I can handle losing the most important people in my life again.
Why can't you just be here, right by my side? Why can't I call you and tell you about all the amazing things I did and experienced? Why can't I be good enough for you? Why was I not good enough when you needed me the most? Why didn't I understand that you were hurting? I feel like it was my responsibility to know. My responsibility to stop all of this. To prevent it from happening. To make sure you'd see your children succeed and reach their life goals. To make sure you could hold and watch and nurture your grandchildren. That I could buy that stupid house at the beach with some garden space for a donkey.
Whenever I see a donkey here in Malawi, I think about how badly I'd want to sent you a picture of it. Because it would make you so happy to see it. And maybe you would've visited me here in Malawi. Maybe you would've been the person I ran towards at the airport. I would've hugged you and not let you go for so long, because damn, I would've missed having you up in my arms for so long.
I regret that I spent so little quality time with you in the last years. That I had the desire to be free and fly into this new big world without you. I never realized you were the one enabling me to spread my wings. When you left, I felt like I couldn't fly at all. As if I were jumping off a cliff, falling, but my wings wouldn't open or be able to carry me. Now, it feels like I'm managing to handle things on my own. But this management doesn't feel like flying anymore. It feels like I'm walking up a hill, with a heavy bag on my shoulders. Always seeing a goal, and being somewhat free. But the ease of floating, gliding in security and safety, that is gone. I'm still dictating my own path through life. That is freedom. But it feels a lot heavier since you're not here anymore to guide me.
I hope that you see me being here and doing my best. And I hope that deep down, you're still proud of me. Because with everything that I'm doing, I'm trying my best. My best to be good. And my best to honor what you taught me about life. I want to live my life in a way you would've been proud of. A life where I can chase my dreams, fight for the better, for equity, for others, and for myself. I need to know that you're still here to give me that strength. Because without you, I don't know if I can pull through it. I promise, I will do the best that I can to be worthy.
Please, don't leave me alone. I can't be alone. I miss you. Stay with me, please.
I love you, Mom.

Imagine two women are talking about a man that one of them hooked up with the previous night. The one says “yeah he just really wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was pretty pushy about the whole thing. I felt like he was trying to get me drunker than I wanted to be too.” The other says “yeah, he always seemed like a creep to me.” Gossip spreads among the girl’s friends and pretty soon everyone knows the story of the pushy creep.
The woman files no police report. She doesn’t accuse him of any crime. In fact, she believes no crime took place. She just reports that he was a pushy weirdo in bed and word spreads among her friends.
Should this be allowed, generally speaking?

I provide tutoring services online. I have this one "regular" student who speaks English fairly well, but with difficulty. (which is what I'm tutoring her for) so I understand that sometimes there can be some confusion. The thing is, she's terrible when it comes to booking appointments.
For context:

• This website I use (which I will not name for privacy reasons) only allows students to book appointments, not the tutors.
• When students schedule a lesson with me, they can see my available days and hours both before and after they purchase a lesson.
• To book an appointment, you have to purchase the lesson first, and then you can select the date and time as early as 60 days in advance.
• My hours are Thursdays from 5-9 PM, Fridays from 3-9 PM, and weekends from 12-9 PM. I have my hours set so that students have to book at least 1 hour in advance, or the timeslot becomes unavailable. (I’m thinking about setting this to 2 hours, but I want to give students all the time they need before booking)
• It’s a first-come, first-served system.
• This particular student is located in the same timezone as I am (EST), so time conversion was never an issue.
• She has booked several lessons with me before, so she already knows the process of how to book appointments on this website.

Whenever this student wants to book a lesson, she will message me on the website a few days in advance to check what time works for me (even though my schedule is available online, but it’s not an issue), and then she’ll tell me what date and time works for her. She’ll then purchase a lesson, but she never books the appointment until the day of, often close to one hour before the time she wants. Sometimes, however, she either forgets to book the appointment, or she books it on a completely different date or time than she said she was going to. Then she’ll get upset when she has an assignment due soon and I’m not available to help her.
Over the weekend, this student told me she wanted to schedule an appointment on Sunday. I told her to pick a date and time she wanted, and that I would see her then. The date and time came and passed, but she never booked the appointment. As I’m getting ready for bed, I get a notification from this student asking me to help her with her homework. The messages read as follows:
(10:53 PM) "I will be free after 8 at night"
(10:53 PM) "because you're not free (during the) day"
(10:54 PM) "can you do (it) at night since you're at class in the day"
(10:54 PM) "please I have to submit my homework"
I remind the student that the next time I am available is on Thursday. from 5-9 PM. I then specified to her when my available hours were, and then I reminded her that she needed to book the appointment at least 1 hour before. If she wants to book an appointment, she has to look at my schedule and book it as soon as possible.
Today, she messaged me asking if I was available today at 4:30—even though my schedule says 5-9 PM on Thursdays—because she has class at 6 tonight. I would have said no since I get out of my last class at 4, and I like to have a good solid hour afterward to eat dinner and catch up on whatever work needs to be done, but it’s only an extra half-hour of my time, so just this once, I allowed it. However, I feel like she’s going to do this again even though I already laid the ground rules for scheduling appointments. Am I just not making myself clear enough to her? Do I need to make more of an effort to communicate with her? What steps should I take to keep this from continuing?

She’s been bed bound, as soon as we moved and she got sicker - my dog (a runt white German Shepard probably with anxiety) has been banging at her door at night for months, whining and barking when we go in to help her with medicine, burying her head under my mum, stopped eating kibble/regular meals and even sometimes turns down canned fish/fresh vegetables. Do dogs experience anticipatory grief? Did we not train her well? And now she has developed attention seeking behaviours? It’s weird that she just seems almost protective of our mum. Also got into her medicine container before and ate a gabapentin/laxative

Life, for most, was a series of ups and downs. You fail your test but then your mom makes your favorite dish for dinner. You lose the big game for your team, but then you make a major breakthrough in the spell you've been practicing for weeks. You drop your ice cream, but find some cash in your pocket you didn't remember leaving there.
The girl you've been fawning over for weeks tickles your tonsils with her tongue, but then you're cut in half and enslaved by your nation's mortal enemy.
Yeah, my life was different, there was no doubt about that at all. But the lowest lows made even the slightest highs feel so much higher. Something as simple as eating a hot meal was the height of life when you had been living on crackers, stale bread, and nearly century-old dried meat.
We failed to notice that everyone in the restaurant was staring at us as we wolfed down plate after plate. The juices; the flavors; the tenderness of the meat; the softness of the hot bread smothered in butter. I couldn't stop smiling as I ate.
"You gotta try this," Tovin said breathlessly between bites as he passed me a bowl containing what looked like some kind of wet, shredded, colorful salad. I swallowed the big bite of steak I had been chewing and quickly put a spoonful of the mystery dish in my mouth. It was heaven on earth.
"Holy smokes, what is this?" I asked.
"I think it's the coleslaw, give it back," he said, pulling the bowl right out of my hand. I turned and looked at the dumbfounded waiter standing next to our table, and smiled. "More coleslaw, please! And ribs, I'm outta ribs! And a refill on... what was this called?"
He stared wide-eyed at my plate and then shook his head as though clearing his mind. "Uhh, I believe you were having the peach lemonade, sir."
"That!" I pointed my fork at him before turning back to the assortment of delicacies splayed out before me. I wasn't sure if it was because I hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, or if it was just that the empire knew how to eat, but it was the best food I had ever tasted in my life.
"So good," Tovin said in such a way that I had to check and make sure he wasn't crying.
After eating all that we wanted and all that we could, the two of us just sat slouched in our chairs with bulging stomachs. I lifted my hand shakily toward the last rib on my plate, but let it fall to my side as I closed my eyes and accepted defeat. The will was there but the room in my stomach wasn't.
"My goodness, sirs," said the waiter. "You hunters sure can eat."
I looked up at him with a satisfied grin, "Hard work always makes a meal so much better. Know what I'm saying?"
"Can't argue with that," said the waiter as he folded his hands. "But... if I may, could I politely ask you to pay your bill? I mean no offense, but you and your friend have a..." he cleared his throat. "Musk about you."
I looked at Tovin and then at myself, and then at all the empty tables around us. We were still covered in the calraven's dried wing gunk. I had to have gone completely nose-blind to it. Now the faces everyone had been making at us made a lot more sense. I looked down to see that it had been flaking off of us and onto the restaurant floor.
"Oh man, I'm so sorry," I apologized.
"No!" said the man, holding his hands out. "It was an honor to serve the hunters keeping our cities safe, don't take me the wrong way. It would be our pleasure to serve you again, but it's about to be 5'o clock and our dinner rush will be starting soon."
I suddenly remembered something I had completely forgotten. I looked up at the man, "Excuse me, do you have a pencil?"
"Certainly," he answered, pulling one from his apron and setting it down on the checkered tablecloth. "Your bill will be 22 octims."
"That's so much," Tovin groaned, not bothering to lift his head or open his eyes. He wasn't wrong, but we had ordered almost everything on the menu. I wasn't completely certain I could walk correctly when it was time to leave. I pulled out the envelope and handed him 25 octims.
"Keep the change," I said, Tovin groaning quietly in tacit disapproval.
"Th-thank you!" said the waiter with a wide grin.
"In return, I'm keeping the pencil," I added, smiling back.
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
It didn't take long for us to find an inn. Bronzegirder was full of them, as it was apparently a booming industrial hub rife with people traveling on business. We decided to book one room with two separate bedrooms to save a bit of money. It came out to 9 octims a night, which when you factored in food, meant we only had a little over a week's worth of cash if we spent conservatively. I didn't know how long it was going to take me to find Atlas and Axle, but I couldn't see it happening that soon. We would likely have to hunt again; that or find a steady job that paid the bills.
It was a humble inn compared to some of the others we had seen. I really wanted to stay in one of the nicer ones, but Tovin wasn't having it. He said the less we had to go out and make money, the better, and I couldn't come up with a good enough argument to push back. While Tovin took a shower, I took an eraser to everything Fena had written to me in the notebook. I left a little bit of her message so as to avoid suspicion, and decided I'd write back later tonight before bed.
After his shower, he realized that he only had dirty clothes to change into and we were reminded that we needed to go shopping. I rinsed off and the two of us made our way back down to the lobby and out into town. It had gotten considerably darker since we had checked in, and the chill winds blew against my cold hair, sending shivers down my spine. We pulled our hoods up and hit the market.
The first shop we landed at was a big success. We bought a warm hat for Tovin's head, which was only just now growing back a thin layer of hair. We found some sheepskin flight jackets with wool collars that rode high against the back of our necks. Tovin begrudgingly accepted them as the best option both for warmth and for hiding our slave tattoos, but for me, I also thought they looked really, really cool.
We bought some leather gloves that matched the jackets, along with new undergarments and sleep attire. We bagged some Diesillian snacks and drinks, as well as a refill of cigarettes for Tovin before heading back to the room. We were both exhausted, and I was more excited about a bed than I ever had been. Back in the room, we sat on the floor and tried the different candies and snacks as we discussed our next plan of action.
"Let's stay here for a little while," Tovin advised, sitting under the open window with his cigarette in hand. "This place is huge. The odds of them finding us here quickly are slim."
"I agree," I said as I popped one of the candies in my mouth. "I'm not going to say I like it here, but it sure beats being on the run."
"We're still on the run," he warned. "Don't misunderstand that. We should also probably pick new aliases. DuPonte has the wrong ones, but Gilliam is pretty similar to William."
"Yeah, but we're not on the run, run. Y'know, being chased through the night, sleeping in abandoned shacks, and stowing away in train cars. I know they're still looking for us, but how are they ever gonna catch us now?"
He folded his arms and dropped his eyes. Smoke billowed from his mouth as he sat in quiet contemplation. "It would be a mistake to underestimate our enemy," he said finally. "We need to start going by new names. I'm Wallace, and you're Geoffrey, got that?"
"I don't want to be Geoffrey, you be Geoffrey," I said playfully as I passed him a bag of candies. "Here, try these. They're called jelly beans, they're pretty good."
He dug his hand into the bag, fished one out, and popped it into his mouth. "Fine," he said. "You can be Wallace then, and I'll be Geoffrey. You need to help me remember that, you understand?"
"Yeah, I got it," I assured him.
"Gill."
"I said I heard you, Jeez," I said dismissively as I picked up the dark beverage I had been eyeing. It was labeled Root Beer and it generated a golden fizz at the top when disturbed. I couldn't wait to taste it. Tovin reached over and gently lowered my hand. I looked up to find him staring at me intensely.
"Gill," he repeated. "Stop. Just stop it, alright? I know what you're doing. I might be slipping, but I'm not dumb, deaf, and blind just yet. While I appreciate the act, or at least where it's coming from, I know you're just as scared as I am. I'm not a child; and while I may not be able to preserve what remains of my dignity for very much longer, I would ask for your respect until that time comes."
I had somehow underestimated the smartest man I had ever known– again. I didn't know the extent of his condition. Based on our interactions, I figured that he had no memory of the times when he regressed. I assumed that he didn't fully understand how bad his lapses had gotten, but it seemed he did. Worse yet, I knew how he felt about sympathy. The way I was acting had to have felt like the biggest insult to him, and even so, he wasn't reacting with anger.
He just wanted to be heard.
"Earlier today in the woods," he said, lifting his arm and tapping his cigarette against the window sill. "I can't remember the details. I don't know how you did that monster in, how I ended up unconscious, or anything about how we got back to the city. But I do remember how I felt."
He traced the floorboards with his eyes and placed his arms on his knees as he looked for the words. "... I felt useless; helpless like a terrified child. At one point, I felt like I didn't deserve to be alive." He looked up at me. "It was like I was swimming in a dream; like I was watching my own actions from over my shoulder. I came back to consciousness for a brief moment and contemplated shoving that rifle in my mouth."
"Tovin–"
"Shut up," he waved at me dismissively, drawing tendrils of smoke in the air with the end of his cigarette. "I don't need your pep talk," he huffed. "I'm past it." He rested his head against the wall behind him. "I just want you to know that this whole thing is getting harder for me. It's like there are two people fighting for control of the wheel, and when I'm not steering, I'm in a sleeplike state. My thoughts play out in front of me like I'm having some kind of fever dream. They smear and melt like watercolor giving me brief glimpses of reality through a window I can't reach or jump through."
I stared at him with concern. We shared a brief moment of eye contact before he closed his eyes and exhaled smoke. "It's not looking good for me, Gill. I just wanted you to know before I went to bed," he said, getting to his feet. "That if I go to sleep tonight for the last time..."
"Hang on," I interrupted. "There's something you should know. I reached out to that friend of mine back home. He's already working on a way to fix you."
His face brightened. "Y-yeah?" he smiled. "Gill, why didn't you say anything?"
I picked up the bottle and used the opener we had purchased with it to pry the lid off. "There was never a good time," I shrugged. "It's been a long, long day."
"Well, what else did he say?" he asked, taking a step forward.
"... Just, y'know," I trailed off. "Hang in there."
He sucked his lips in and looked down at the floor. He knew I was holding back. I was more worried about putting him through information overload than anything else. There was a lot he didn't know; too much, in fact.
"Tovin, just trust me. You'll know everything soon," I assured him. "All of it. As soon as you get your memories back."
"You really think your friend is that incredible?" he asked without looking up.
I smiled knowingly. "I do."
I took a swig of the beverage and spat it back out all of my legs. It almost splashed his legs and he quickly scrambled away. He looked at me with apparent disgust.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled.
"It's like medicine," I grimaced. "I don't think this is even a drink!"
x - - x - - x - - ☾ - - x - - x - - x
That night, as Tovin slept, I wrote down the events of the day. As I jotted it all down, I began having new revelations. Tovin seemed to be at his best after resting. In the morning when we got off the train, he seemed alright. However, as the day drew on, he became less and less like himself. I should have known something was up the moment he wandered off without me. Then he was acting like a literal child up to our confrontation with the calraven. He had even mistakenly called me dad, perhaps reliving a buried memory of a hunt with his father.
But when his rifle exploded and he lost consciousness, he was back to himself when he woke up. He seemed to hold strong through dinner up until he went to bed. I wondered what it was about sleeping that restored at least a portion of his working mind.
Then there was the stranger, referred to only once as "Deac." There was no mistaking the magic that glowed in his body, but what was that other energy? I couldn't see it, but for the fact that it danced with and often overtook his magic essence. There were two energies tangled up together inside of him, and they seemed to be at odds with one another. And then there was the Diesel Devil sitting at the back of the cave.
The two of them definitely knew one another on a familiar level. They had been sent together to investigate Eluviel, but why, and from where? She definitely didn't seem happy to see them, but could that have been because she felt I was threatened by them? A splinter-sprite, he called her. A piece of her consciousness that she had shed just before she was subdued.
I wondered why she'd chosen me. Was it because I could see her while others couldn't? Or maybe I was just secretly really, really awesome, like a main character in a novel. I sat under the electric light and smiled at the idea of being someone worthy of tales. Someone like Tovin or Atlas with a bright destiny. But was revenge really such a noble pursuit? The yearning to return home and lift some heads off of shoulders didn't seem like any sort of heroic journey. After I penned the events of the day as best as I could, I got to work answering everyone individually.
Tovin. Be nice to Gill. He's doing his best with what he's got. Instead of being pissed at him, be pissed at the headmasters in question for what they've done to him. I hope everything I wrote above helps in some way, but I'm still running around out here with a lot of questions. Any luck with the spell for your counterpart? As you;ve read, he's getting worse. I need that miracle cure sooner than later. Thanks for your help.
I could already hear him in my head. "I'm working as fast I can you ingrate," or something like that. I laughed under my breath as I thought about what a dick he was. It was pressure, pride, and maintaining appearances that warped his personality so much. Out here in the Diesel as a nobody with nothing to prove, he was so much more agreeable. His inner-Tovin showed through now and again, but I wondered what would happen if he suddenly got all his memories back. Would he be a more chilled-out version of his ENU counterpart, or would he be even more high-strung?
Gill. I hope you read the annotation I scribbled in the margins about not reading the whole journal entry. I forgot you had asked me not to talk about the Galgalim before I had already written it all down. If you skipped right to this response as I hoped, then don't go back and read any of that. There were major revelations about what she is and why she's here.
I knew he wouldn't be able to resist after reading that. I needed his curiosity to overpower his fear. It was possible, I figured, that I could undo some of the damage Vega had done. I just needed to remind Gill of who he was.
I know it's weird putting your trust in me, but if there's anyone you can trust, it's yourself. I'm 99% sure Tovin would back me up on that, haha. And yeah, I remember Fena boasting about the importance of keeping a diary. We love that girl, but we hate to write, am I write?
I hoped he would find my pun funny. He was me, so he would at least smile at it, I was sure.
Even now my hand is aching something fierce, I want to go to bed more than anything. You know how long its been since I've slept in a bed? This mattress feels like heaven under me right now, you got no idea. And is Tovin still threatening to kill you? I thought we had gotten a little closer than that. I can't believe Axle was expelled. You're right, that means you're probably next. Keep your head down, man. Thanks for cooperating with me. If you had changed the summoning signature for the tome, I would have died today... and yesterday too, actually. I'm getting actual combat experience out here. It's wild knowing you can die at any moment. My hand is kinda cramping and I still have to write Fena back so I'll end it here. Thanks again for hearing me out and staying open-minded about this whole thing.
I set the pencil down and massaged the muscle between my thumb and forefinger. I had a lot to tell. But I wasn't about to roll over and drift off without writing to Fena. I picked the pencil up and readjusted myself before putting my words down.
I'm sorry I asked Gill not to tell you, but something deep down inside of me told me he would do it anyway. I just wanted to touch base with him first before I reached out to the rest of you. And technically, I was the one who showed you the message in the tome, so I didn't actually ever keep a secret from you.
I doodled a little smiley face with his tongue sticking out and then quickly erased it only to find that I couldn't fully get it off the page. There was a big smudge there that made it evident that I'd written and then erased something. I let out a frustrated sigh and drew it again, but somehow worse.
That's a solid theory on Tovin there. Same for Atlas. That could end up coming back to bite Vega in the ass. I promise I'll be safe, but do me a favor and help Tovin with whatever it is he needs. He's working on that spell to untether blocked memories from the mind, and the Tovin with me is getting worse by the day it seems. I don't want to see him get caught and sent back to the camp. He won't cooperate with them and they'll definitely kill him.
Thanks for everything, hun. I miss you more than you could ever know. Promise me you'll stay safe too. I know Vega is trying to find a way to get to you. If he got to Tovin... look just take every precaution you can. I love you. Goodnight.
I closed the book and set it down on my bedside table. I pulled the chain on the light, snuffing it out, then turned over and sank my head into the pillow. It wasn't that late yet– I could hear the hum of Diesel vehicles and even the chatter of the populace outside. I pulled the blankets over myself and closed my eyes. I let the warmth of the bed cradle me as I counted my many blessings, and thanked Hahnahkordia that I had somewhere warm and dry to lay my head.
The room was dimly lit when I opened my eyes again. It was just bright enough that I could read the clock on the wall. It was about 7am. It felt like I had blinked. I thought about getting up, but the blankets were so warm, and the room was cold– I had left the window open all night by accident. What reason did I have to get out of bed anyways? I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep again and repeated this several times until the clock read noon and I started to get hungry.
I rolled out of bed and quickly closed the window. I hurried into the hot embrace of my morning shower and got dressed before knocking on Tovin's door. "Hey, you up? I was thinking of breakfast."
There was no answer. I carefully opened his door to find his bed empty and neatly made. I entered the room fully to find that his backpack was also missing. I figured he had to have gotten hungry first and left without me. That theory fell on its face when I ventured back to my room and found a note placed on the side table.
You can sleep all day if you want. I'm going down to the gun range at the hunters' office. I won't be shown up by you again.
I set the note down and began to worry. I didn't like the idea of him going out by himself. What if he were to suddenly backslide mentally while out in Diesel territory alone? I could see a scenario where he'd forget his alias or that he has an incriminating mark on the back of his neck. I got dressed in a hurry and grabbed my backpack before heading out the door. I hurried down the steps and out into the cold wet streets of Bronzegirder.
I made my way north of the crowded city streets and found Alloy street. The bitter winds blew against me as I made my way up the empty road toward the hunters' office. I was starting to regret not buying a warm hat for myself when I bought one for Tovin. I skipped every second step on my way up to the front door and made my way past the reception desk and into the firing range. I heaved a sigh of relief when I found Tovin shooting at targets downrange.
I walked up next to him as he turned his rifle over and grabbed a handful of ammunition from the box sitting on the counter. "Busy morning, Geoffrey?"
"Did you just wake up?" he asked as he began feeding bullets into the tube.
"I figured I didn't have anywhere to be," I shrugged. "I assumed you didn't either. I thought the plan was to get our bonus and ditch this place."
"Yeah, well, I kind of like shooting," he admitted. "Also, we're out of money."
I felt my knees turn to jelly underneath me. "What?" I yelled. "How?"
"Turns out these guns are expensive," he said as he pulled the hammer back and lifted the rifle to his shoulder. "You left ours out in the woods. They charged us for them."
I stammered for entirely too long before wiping both hands over my face and collecting myself. "... How much we got left?"
"We owe," he answered, firing his gun. "They charged us for the uniforms, and then a fee to clean the gunk off of them. Also, I bought us a pair of rain ponchos, they're cheaper here." He motioned to a couple of folded-up ponchos hanging over the wooden divider.
I stammered for a little longer. This was becoming more expensive than it was worth. We would have to hunt another monster today. I was hoping to never have to hoof it out there again, and it was even colder today than it was yesterday.
"Calm down," he said, not taking his eyes off the target. "Get your poncho on. I've got a plan."
"A plan?" I asked.
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
"The circus?" I said with a hint of anger in my voice as we stood in front of the many tents and attractions. They had set up east of town on the perimeter of the city. Families wandered the fairgrounds. Vendors had set up games and stands with delicious food we couldn't pay for, and I had just remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast.
"I came this way first when I smelled the food," Tovin said, taking a few steps in front of me and turning around. "Then I explored a little bit. And wouldn't you know it– I found an attraction that was offering a cash prize. It just wasn't open yet."
I sighed and hung my head. "You just wanted to come to the carnival," I grumbled.
"100 octims," he said flatly.
I looked up at him and he smiled faintly. "Thought that would get your attention." He reached into his pocket and produced a single red ticket. "This will get us one round."
"One round?" I asked, taking the ticket and inspecting it. It read, "Single Admission ~ 1 Minute."
"There's a stage toward the back with a guy in a cape that you can challenge in hand-to-hand combat," he said, beckoning me to follow as he turned and started into the fair. I hurried after him as he explained. "Here's the kicker though. You don't have to beat him. All you've got to do is hit him."
"Just hit him?" I asked.
"That's what they said. He's supposed to be some kind of master. You strike him just once and we're set for the next several days, and that's after settling our debt."
This plan was a little better than I had given him credit for. Here I had thought he'd gone bananas again, but this could really work.
"You think I can do it?" I asked. "It can't be easy if they're throwing around a hundred octims."
"Here's what I'm thinking," he said, lowering his voice and slowing down to walk next to me. "You use a little bit of that magic– the kind you isolate in your feet to move quickly."
"Are you nuts?" I cast him an incredulous glance. "Did you forget we'd be on stage in Diesel territory?"
"Just use it once quickly to make your swing a little faster," he reasoned. "It's been drizzling all morning. The stage is wet already. If you're quick about it, it won't stand out."
"I don't know," I shook my head. "It's not the worst plan, but it's so risky."
"Riskier than hunting monsters?" he asked.
That was a fair point. Still, the idea of casting in front of everyone made me uneasy. It wasn't like Jetstream was a super common spell, though. Furthermore, the odds were slim that anyone in the crowd had ever even witnessed magic before. The more I thought about it, the more I started to think we could actually pull this off.
"This is the place," said Tovin as we approached a crowd. There was a wooden sign in front that read, The Slippery Salamander! One hit gets you 100 octims! The two of us pushed through the crowd until we came to the stage where a mustached man was swinging like crazy at the aptly named Salamander. He bobbed and weaved effortlessly around every attempted strike until a man in a red and white striped outfit hurried out onto the stage and blew a whistle.
"Time's up!" he called out.
The crowd cheered and applauded as the Salamander turned and took a bow. The world fell out from underneath me. I couldn't believe my eyes.
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope

Some of you may have seen my post last week. I am the guy who jumped off a 4 story parking garage in a desperate bid to end my battle with alcohol and unburden the people in my life that I have disappointed time and again.
I still only have the full use of one limb, my right arm. But I have been working with physical therapists and have been able to transfer from my bed to a wheelchair or the recliner in my hospital room via wooden slideboard. It can be pretty damn painful but I just want to push through it. I've also been having trouble retaining urine and have had multiple foley and straight catheters. Definitely unpleasant.
On a huge plus note I still have no cravings for alcohol. I'm hoping that sticks through the duration of my therapy and on. My ultimate goal is to go from hospital to physical rehab to 30 day inpatient alcohol treatment. Hopefully when I'm done at the rehab there will be a bed for me in a treatment facility. We shall see. I'll keep you folks posted and IWNDWYT.

My friends and I have come up with this idea of solving a common but grave problem amongst the hospitals in India where the patients have no information regarding the number of available beds in the hospitals during times of emergency. It also plans to address whether the medical assistance required is available in a particular hospital or not. We plan on solving this by building an app or a platform through which will provide the list of nearby hospitals according to the location of the patient and the number of available beds and proper medical facilities required by the patient.

I'm actually looking for recommendations for wireless earphones with the style of an Airpod, you know, without that rubber that needs to be pressed and feels unconfortable after a while.
I'm actually searching for budget ones, since I'm just using them just as an alternative to my Headphones for when I just want to watch things on the bed, but I've no problem to spend up to $100 USD if there is a set of very good ones, with ANC, for that price, and preferible if you can find them on Amazon.

"Sure thing, honey, just let me make this popcorn really quick and press record on my phone because I fricking live for this stuff."
Ok, I didn't say that.
Her confession?
"Sometimes when I'm lying in bed and I've had a hard day and I just need to let my emotions out...I swear and use my naughty finger."
She's 8 and most of the time she's comes off older and then sometimes she's so little it's adorable. Her face when I told her she can swear all she wants when she's alone was amazing.
Other things she's come out with recently:
"I looooove to pretend I'm evil but actually....I'm not evil!"
*in the drive-thru for KFC, reading their sign in the window* "Open from 9 am to midnight......ohhhhh.....I get it! I understand! They don't open til 9 so you have more time to sleep!"

It was the last building of the day: a tall gray rectangle on a humdrum street in a forgettable neighborhood. The kind of place where the average tenant was a pearl-clutching eighty-year-old who wouldn't buzz the door open for Christ himself.
In my work as a gas meter inspector, I'd run into a lot of types like that. Even with my official-looking vest and clipboard, people were suspicious…and I couldn't say I blamed them.
After all, any psychopath could buy an official-looking vest and clipboard.
By my third week on the job, I could size up buildings by sight. I could usually tell whether I'd be dealing with busy professionals working from home, families with multiple children who were almost sure to be out of the house when I buzzed, or packs of young people who left their doors unlocked and often didn’t even know what a gas meter was.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a bucket propping open the exterior door. The corridor was gloomy, but I could just make out a pudgy retiree in a sweater vest mopping the hallway.
"Good afternoon," I waved from the street, "I'm for the gas company…"
"Well, come on in then, lad." His teeth glinted in the dim light, and for some reason, those words sounded like a threat.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I realized I did not want to step into that dark hallway, with its ugly wood paneling and wet tile floor that smelled like bleach. The old man leaned on his mop expectantly.
If I didn't register the building today, I told myself, I'd just have to come back tomorrow; it would be out of my way and off my route, and I was already barely meeting my quota…
I sighed and walked toward the janky, old-fashioned elevator.
"This is a safe neighborhood. Usually." The old man commented as I passed. I realized why his voice seemed to snarl and why the light reflected so strangely on his teeth: they were made of metal, some kind of weird prosthetic…
The old man must have noticed how I recoiled, because he held out a hand to steady me.
"A few weeks ago I was walking down that very street outside the door when a group of teenagers came running up behind me. They grabbed my wallet and my watch, and when I tried to scream, they smashed out my teeth with a bottle." He smiled, as if to demonstrate the delinquents' ghastly work. "Going up?"
At least the guy didn't follow me into the elevator, I thought, as I rode the rickety thing up to the top floor. As usual, I’d work my way down, knocking on doors and marking down the responses I received. No one was home in apartment 5A, and at apartment 5B, a handwritten note was tapped to the door:
Gas Meter: 8043.24 – We DO NOT Open The Door For Strangers!
I rolled my eyes and took note of the number before continuing down the stairs. There was no natural light in the hallway, which was lit only by dusty wall lamps. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up, but I couldn't figure out just what it was about the place that unnerved me so much. It wasn’t like this was the rundown tenement where a junkie had chased around me with a dirty needle, or the eerily-clean penthouse where I’d found a heiress floating in a bathtub with her wrists cut…
Even so, each time I knocked, I found myself hoping that no one (and no thing) would answer. When the door of apartment 4B opened just a crack, I think I actually jumped backward a little.
“Yeah?” A cigarette dangled from the lips of the overweight blonde woman peering at me from the other side of the chain. She looked me over with worry–maybe even fear–in her tired blue eyes. “What?”
“Hi, I’m here to–”
“Oh. Right. The gas. Well, c’mon in…” I could hear the echo of cartoons and squealing kids from deep inside the apartment. Something bothered me about the way the woman had answered the door, but I was halfway to the meter before I realized what it was: she’d opened up almost as soon as I’d knocked. Like she’d been listening for something…
As I scooted around overflowing stacks of cardboard boxes, I told myself that I was letting my imagination run away with me.
“Sorry,” the blonde woman coughed. “We’re still unpacking.”
“It’s alright,” I said, slipping on a child’s sock.
“I see why they can’t keep tenants, though.” She blew out a cloud of smoke. “Whoever’s in the apartment below us makes noise like you wouldn’t believe. If I had a choice, I’d get us outta here, but I can’t afford it. And even if I could, I wouldn’t wanna do that to the kids. The move was rough on them…they keep having these dreams, you know? ‘Night terrors,’ the doctor calls them…”
“Yep, well, change is hard when you’re young.” I was only half-paying attention; my work app had just crashed, and was taking forever to reboot. When it finally finished loading, I input the number and flashed her a smile. “All done. Have a good one!”
“You too…” she looked like she wanted to say something more, but she just gave me a tired little wave. She locked the door behind me as soon as I left.
I proceed down to 3A and 3B. A knock on 3A’s door received no answer; I was walking toward 3B when the door swung open wide.
There was only darkness on the other side.
“Come in!” an elderly woman’s voice called out.
“Um,” I hesitated. “Could you turn on the lights for me, please?”
No answer. My heart was racing as I stepped into the gloom. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling for a switch–
The door slammed shut behind me. I would’ve sworn I heard an old woman’s voice whispering in the blackness: “Don’t worry. Grandma won't let him get you…”
Suddenly, I felt hard plastic beneath my fingers–a lightswitch!
The bulb flickered on…revealing a dusty, empty room with grimy yellow walls.
“H-hello?” I ventured. No answer.
I wanted to raise the blinds to let in some exterior light, but the cords had been cut…and besides, I wasn’t supposed to touch anything other than the gas meter. As I walked past the lightless kitchen, I chanced a look inside.
A pale man wearing nothing but filthy underwear stood with his back to me, holding himself and rocking back and forth..
I muttered an apology and kept moving. I’d walked in on worse things, but the feeling of wrongness in this place was becoming impossible to ignore. I told myself that all I had to do was get to the end of the hallway and read that damn meter, then it would all be over…
I heard movement in a room across the hall: a child, barely visible in the gloom. The glow of the apartment’s single lightbulb reflected in his milky eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The child snarled, taking a step toward me.”HE’ll see you.” Now I could see that his face was purplish and bloated…and that there were bruises in the shape of bony hands around his neck. “Grandma said she would save us. But she couldn’t…because this is HIS place, and NOTHING can protect you from HIM.”
I moaned and took a step backward. Another child appeared behind the first, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.
“What’s wrong with you?” it asked. ”Can’t you see that you’re in hell?”
The bathroom door creaked open; I ran.
Sprinting past the kitchen, I noticed for the first time the bloodless knife wounds in the pale man’s back. I could hear footsteps, but they weren’t coming from the hallway…they were coming from above me! Filthy footprints appeared on the ceiling, closing in on where I stood. Whatever was making them panted with wet, excited breaths…
I tugged on the doorknob. Of course, it wouldn’t open.
“Help…HELP!” I screamed, pounding on the door.
In a few seconds, the thing would be right on top of me–
A key turned in the lock and I practically fell into the hallway. It was the retiree from earlier, still holding his mop bucket.
“Did you get locked in or something?” he chuckled. “You’re lucky the super gave me a spare set of keys!”
I moaned something incomprehensible and gestured over my shoulder–
But there was nothing behind me but yellowed walls.
“Let me guess,” he snorted, “you saw that apartment wide open, went inside, then the door blew shut behind you? It happens all the time in this drafty old place. I keep telling the super that he needs to fix the damn lock so that door doesn’t creak open all the time, but he won’t lift a finger until he gets some renters in there. And good luck with that! I wouldn’t go in that apartment if you paid me!”
“What do you mean?” I gasped, trying to keep up with the retiree as he walked back downstairs.
“It was a tragedy, a real shame. We all knew the old woman who lived there was a bit batty, but nobody realized how far gone she was ‘til it was too late. She thought that there was some kind of ‘presence’ in the apartment–‘HIM,’ she called it–and she convinced herself that ‘HE’ was gonna take her grandkids away…so she strangled’em in their sleep. To protect them, she said. Can you believe that? Then, when her son found out what she’d done, she stabbed him to death right there in the kitchen…” the retiree shook his head as he locked up the mop and bucket in a grimy janitorial closet. “The strangest part was how they found the old woman afterwards. She was laying right in the middle of the living room with a face like she’d been screaming her head off, but there wasn’t a mark on her…it was like she’d been scared to death. But listen to me! Rambling on and on when you’ve got a job to do. It’s 1246.15.” The retiree finished cheerfully.
“Huh?” I mumbled.
“My gas meter. It’s 1246.15, and I’m in apartment 2A. Got all that?” My legs felt weak. I staggered toward the door. “Hey!” the retiree shouted after me, “where are you going? Don’t you have more apartments to check?”
I did, but I didn’t check them–not that evening nor any other. I turned in my resignation as soon as I got back to the office. My days of walking into strange apartments were over, but what had happened in unit 3B of that anonymous gray apartment complex stuck with me.
It made me think that every building–just like every person–has its own true story…
And some of those stories are horror stories.
X

Last year, around June I quit my job and left an extremely physically, mentally, and s*xually abusive relationship to move back to my hometown and assist in end-of-life care for a family member. In August, they passed away. I've been applying ever since.
I need a job. I've needed a job for over 6 months now. I've applied and applied and applied. The only places that want to reach out to me are blatant scams and abusive workplaces that will take advantage of me. (MLMs or Sales position that pay less than legally allowed, in a state where $15.50 is minimum wage.)
Mind you, I haven't been picky with applying. It's been everything from janitorial work to food service to executive positions. If it's near me and open, you best believe I'd apply. But every time I get a letter or email within a week telling me I wasn't selected. I can't afford gas to go out and physically apply. Even when I have done it, I've just been told to apply online, where I'll surely be ignored.
I'm an artist and I'm struggling to make commission work as it's hard for me to find an avenue to advertise. Even on my art account on here, I don't have enough of a post history to post onto any art servers. My attempts are automatically flagged as spam and my posts are then deleted.
I'm an experienced dental assistant, yet no office I've applied to has hired me.
I'm a hard worker. I can do just about any job you ask of me. It's been extremely disheartening and depressing to open my emails to only be greeted with rejection letters.
I don't know what to do. It's been hard finding motivation to get out of bed every day. I know I'm a great worker. I'm dedicated. But with the job market the way it is right now, I don't know how I'm going to survive.

Hello. I recently adopted a third cat, who I love so much, but my oldest (and first cat) does not. We have an 8 year old neutered male, a nine month old spayed female, and our newest cat who is also a spayed female and looks to be between 1-2. She was a stray so the shelter doesn’t know much about her. She is visually impaired but gets around easily. She is incredibly sweet and snuggly and just wants to be friends with the other cats. Our kitten loves her, but our senior cat hates her. He has always been so gentle but he has been awful to her and so territorial. He stalks her, pounces on her, swats her and hurts her. She growls and cowers when he is near because she’s so scared of him. I totally screwed up their first introduction. No serious injuries because I separated them. I am trying to reintroduce them and it has been two weeks now and I feel like it is getting worse. I’ve had her secluded in a separate room with her own food, litter box, toys, bed etc. he’s had the run of the house. We’ve been following Jackson Galaxy’s advice and have been feeding on opposite sides of the door and scent swapping. When he’s asleep in my room (which is most of the day), she gets to roam the house freely. She then is put up at bedtime because he comes out of my room and I can’t supervise them. We’ve gotten the feliway diffusers, the calming collars, we put a screen on the door, and I felt like have been taking it pretty slowly. He saw her this morning through the screen and tried to attack her, so clearly he’s not ready to see her yet. I can’t tell what he’s so territorial about. I think it’s me and his own food and litter box. We have two of everything and are going to switch to timed feeders. He doesn’t care about playing so I haven’t been able to entice him with any toys. We have been doing treats and lick mats. I really do not want to rehome her but am worried he will never coexist with her peacefully and that makes me so sad for her. Does anyone have any success stories about reintroductions or is there anything I can do to help them get along that I’m not trying? It’s only been a couple weeks but I feel so stressed about it. Thank you for any advice!

Nyctophobia as an adult because of epilepsy.
I often sleep very bad and have many dreams. I'm more uncomfortable sleeping in the dark then sleeping when it's bright.
I think I might have Nyctophobia, fear of the dark that has been kept alive all this time ever since childhood because of my epilepsy. I get seizures more easily in winter when it's dark almost 24/7 (I live far up north). Usually I connect darkness to tiredness and more uncontrolled seizures. I have medication resistant epilepsy and it feels like both the seizures and the sleep gets worse when I sleep alone in a dark environment.
I still sleep in my parents bed sometimes because of this and it usually makes me feel better because atleast I'm not alone. But I know however that this isn't really acceptable when I'm around my twenties so I try and sleep in my own bed. I did that last night and this entire day I've had a focal seizure and one where I lost conciousness.
I don't wanna sleep alone again this night but I think I have to. I don't know what to do about this.

I was excited for update 19, probably the best update for FH5 yet, and now i'm here laying down in my bed after uninstalling the game on pc and console, why ? Because the update made me lose my save.
It all started when I tried to update the game, weird things such as an error were going on, so I tried to "repair and fix" through the xbox app on pc, it uninstalled my game, I in one hand didn't have any problems with that, because the game would just reinstall and I would be able to play it again, right ?
Wrong, deeply wrong, the data sync issue struck me once again, it happened when I first installed the game back when i got my new pc, i fixed it then no problem, but now, after doing basically anything, i broke it, the syncing data doesn't even show up, and when i start the game it takes me to the actual start with the bronco jumping off the plane.
I guess i wont enjoy this gane that i actually liked anymore, that brought me joy, all because FH5 is a broken mess, and not a fun one.