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Hello everyone,
I'm looking for a portrait lens with wide aperture. My idea is to have something to occasionally shoot some creative portraits mostly in the evening or during the night (light painting, milky way or stars as background etc.) This is why I'm looking for the wide aperture, so I can reduce the the shutter speed and have less occasions with people not standing still. I also currently have no lens with wide enough aperture for decent bokeh, so that's another problem I'd like to solve.
Since I do almost only landscape stuff I will use this one just occasionally and I don't really want to dive into the 1000$+ lenses which doesn't leave many options. The Sony 50mm f/1.8 is the obvious choice, but I'd prefer a f/1.4 if possible. However apart from a Samyang 50mm f/1.4 and a Sigma 56mm 1.4 (for APS-C) I don't see anything else below 1000$. Even these two are three times more expensive than the Sony lens (at least where I live).
So what I'm actually asking is: is this difference in the aperture really worth it to pay doubled or tripled price or should I just go for the cheap f/1.8 one? On one side I don't really want to pay too much for something I won't use very often, but I don't want to buy something that won't be enough either.

I was wondering if there's any advice you have to offer. We saw a listing for a property for rent. It stated they had a garage. I called and asked for a viewing but apparently one was taking place and almost over. It would be the last viewing for awhile and it's pretty hot so would be rented soon. They suggested a video call and I agreed. We really needed storage space so the garage is necessary and we wouldn't have agreed to rent the house without it. He showed us around the house and it was mostly fine. However, when I double checked that there was a garage he said yes but you don't need it as there's a huge driveway. I stated we needed it for storage and asked again and he said there is. My mistake was not asking to see it. Afterwards they said to put down a small part of the deposit so no one else can claim the property as it would be given to someone else. We agreed and sent the money. After this we called everyday to see the property and they would sometimes delay it sometimes they would book an appointment and then cancel it. Then they said how the video call was the viewing and they don't offer the viewings anymore. And they said we can't decide we don't want it because of the money we gave.
So we thought the video call was enough and we were happy with the rest of the house. We paid the full deposit. Once they gave us the keys we looked around. The so called garage was a shed that wasn't even stable. It was broken and you couldn't put anything inside. We've brought this up and they haven't really acknowledged the fact that they scammed us. But one of the agents is asking their manager if they can replace the shed for us. We need it as soon as possible for storage reasons and we're not even sure if they'll agree to replace it. Even if they do, that's not a garage. It's a shed.
Is there anything I can do about this in a legal sense? We still have the link where it says it's a garage and I've taken screenshots of it. Any advice would be appreciated.

Introduction

If you have no idea how to dress and want a simple basic wardrobe guide / shopping list to get started, this post is for you.
Alternatively, for those of you who want to start traversing beyond the basics, I've included some baby steps that are perfectly safe to incorporate in almost any beginner's wardrobe, but offer a little bit more interest and creativity than the most basic of the basic.
Disclaimer: This guide is targeted toward more traditional clothing styles (essentially, a safe blend of workwear, Americana, and prep). It is not the only way to dress well! If these clothes simply don't appeal to you at all, that's totally okay. Consider looking into other styles, and reading stuff from a variety of fashion communities - for example, see if things appeal more to you in streetwear, malefashion, navyblazer, etc.

The Basic Wardrobe - visual guide HERE

Tops

• Plain crew-neck t-shirts in neutral colors - white and gray are most versatile, but other neutrals such as navy or beige, or simple patterns (e.g., stripes) can be nice.
  
• Button-front shirts - oxford-cloth button-downs (OCBDs) in white and light blue, flannel/chamois shirts in plaids or solid neutrals
  
• Baby steps: Try out graphic tees, OCBDs with university stripe patterns, chambray shirts, or a polo shirt (short sleeve or long sleeve). For cool weather, heavyweight shirts in twill, flannel, chamois, denim, or moleskin can keep you a bit warmer, while in warm weather, linen or seersucker shirts can keep you cool.
  
• Avoid: Graphic tees with meme references, jokes, etc. These are inherently unfashionable.
  

Bottoms

• Straight fit jeans in dark indigo, black, and/or medium wash
  
• Straight fit chinos in tan (khaki), caramel, and/or olive
  
• If you want to wear shorts, 7-9" chino shorts in khaki, olive, or navy
  
• Baby steps: Try corduroy pants, cargo pants, linen pants, fatigues, or double knee pants. If you're interested in tucking in a shirt and wearing a layer on top, try looking for pants with higher rises (~11"+). If you're in a "sky's out, thighs out" mood, try getting a pair or two of short shorts with a ~5" inseam.
  
• Avoid: Chinos with a synthetic flatness and luster. Avoid black chinos, which can look a little formal.
  

Mid-layers

• Crew-neck sweater in gray, oatmeal, navy, mustard yellow, or maroon. Keep an eye out for brushed Shetland wool sweaters for some added texture.
  
• Crew-neck sweatshirt or hoodie in gray
  
• Baby steps: Consider an overshirt, cardigan, fair isle sweater, turtleneck sweater, or a chunky cable knit/Aran sweater.
  
• Avoid: Anything too tight and slim. Sweaters and mid-layers are meant to have a bit more space to allow for layering underneath.
  

Outerwear (as needed for your specific climate)

• Light jackets such as a trucker jackets in indigo/black denim or tan/olive cotton, chore coats in olive/brown, or field jackets in olive/brown/gray.
  
• Raincoat in olive, gray, or black, although vibrant colors can work too.
  
• Warm jacket such as an overcoat or parka in dark neutrals (gray/brown for overcoats, olive/gray/black for parkas).
  
• Baby steps: There is a whole wide world of jackets out there, both light and heavy, so look into several different varieties to figure out what you like.
  
• Avoid: Trying to skimp out on jackets if you live in a cold/rainy climate. Being too cold or getting soaked is miserable!
  

Shoes

• Canvas or leather sneakers
  
• Casual brown leather derbies and/or loafers, blucher mocs, or boots
  
• Baby steps: Try chunkier athletic sneakers or chunky leather shoes if they appeal to you.
  
• Avoid: Brown minimal sneakers and these sorts of hybrid dress sneaker abominations. Avoid cheap (or faux) leather, which degrades fast and wears in poorly. Avoid wearing shoes two days in a row - they need to air out between wears. Instead, rotate your pairs and use shoe trees to improve longevity.
  

Casual tailoring (optional, if needed for a job/event or if you like to wear it)

• Navy Blazer
  
• Wool trousers in various shades and textures of gray and/or brown
  
• Baby steps: Try a sport coat with some texture or pattern, such as a brown houndstooth or gray tweed herringbone. Try a pocket square in a puff fold to accessorize with your blazer or sport coat.
  
• Avoid: Wearing blazers or sport coats without getting them tailored. Make sure they're long enough and that they fit properly (not too slim, not too loose). Read this.
  

Semi-formal tailoring (optional, if needed for a job/event or if you like to wear it)

• Navy or charcoal suit, tailored
  
• White poplin dress shirt
  
• Oxford dress shoes in black or brown
  
• A belt that matches your shoes
  
• Simple dark tie (e.g., burgundy grenadine)
  
• Baby steps: Unfortunately, there's not much room to experiment with semi-formal or formal clothing. Your best bet is to stick to the basics unless you really know what you're doing.
  
• Avoid: Black suits, unless you're specifically dressing for a funeral. In general, it's recommended to avoid wearing vests. Don't wear your oxford shoes with less formal outfits. Avoid dress shirts in black or saturated colors. It's generally best to avoid wearing a tie without a jacket or top layer. Avoid skinny ties - stick to ~2.75-3.5" (or 7-9 cm) width. For beginners, avoid bow ties unless 1) it's a black bow tie with a tuxedo (at a black tie event), or 2) you're dressing for prom (go crazy!) Finally, while monkstrap shoes had their moment, that moment has since passed.
  

MFA Suggestions at Various Price Points

This is a truncated and modified version of the MFA Best of Picks for the items recommended in this guide at various price points. These are not the only options, and if you want more suggestions, I highly recommend asking for recommendations in Daily Questions (don't forget to include a budget!)

Item	$	$$	$$$
T-shirts	Uniqlo U, J. Crew	House of Blanks, Tezomeya, Asket	Velva Sheen, Lemaire, Lady White Co
Button-front shirts	Uniqlo, J. Crew, Abercrombie & Fitch, L.L. Bean	Spier & Mackay, Proper Cloth	Gitman, Brooks Brothers, J. Press
Jeans	Levi's, Uniqlo	Unbranded, Japan Blue, Nudie, Two Cat Brand	Iron Heart, Acne, Designer brands
Chinos	Gap, J. Crew	Taylor Stitch, Spier & Mackay	orSlow, Rota, Ring Jacket
Shorts	Uniqlo, Abercrombie & Fitch	J. Crew, Bear Bottom, Patagonia	Outlier, Engineered Garments
Sweatshirts/Hoodies	Uniqlo, House of Blanks	Reigning Champ, Asket	Strike Gold, Real McCoy's, Loopwheeler
Sweaters	L.L. Bean, Uniqlo, J. Crew	A Day's March, Asket	Howlin' by Morrison, J. Press Shaggy Dog
Raincoats	Uniqlo, J. Crew	L.L. Bean, Patagonia	Arc'teryx, Stutterheim
Light jackets	Levi's, Uniqlo	Barbour, J. Crew	Engineered Garments, Baracuta, Acne
Heavy jackets	Uniqlo, Milsurp	Alpha Industries, L.L. Bean, Todd Snyder	Engineered Garments, SEH Kelly, Arc'teryx
Sneakers	Chucks, Vans, New Balance, Nike, Adidas	New Balance miUSA, Beckett Simonon	Margiela, Various designers
Leather shoes	L.L. Bean, Doc Martens, Meermin	Grant Stone, Rancourt, Allen Edmonds	Crocket & Jones, Alden
Belts	Meermin (formal), Narragansett (casual)	Allen Edmonds	Alden
Blazers	Spier & Mackay	Brooks Brothers, Todd Snyder	Ring Jacket
Wool Trousers	Banana Republic, Spier & Mackay	Octobre, Kent Wang, Todd Snyder	Corneliani, Ralph Lauren Purple Label
Suits	Spier & Mackay	Suitsupply, Brooks Brothers, Kent Wang	Ring Jacket, Oxxford
Dress shirts	Spier & Mackay, Charles Tyrwhitt	Kent Wang, Proper Cloth, Brooks Brothers	Eton, Drake's
Ties	The Tie Bar, secondhand	Kent Wang	Vanda Fine Clothing, Drake's

Questions?

Please check this comment for the FAQ. If your question is not answered there, feel free to ask in the recurring Daily Questions thread and one of MFA's knowledgeable users should be able to help you out.

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I was scraping a living working as a security guard.
I was stationed in shopping malls where my days were spent asking teenagers to move on. I sat behind desks in the lobbies of office blocks staring at CCTV monitors where nothing happened for hour after hour. And I patrolled construction sites on freezing cold nights, actually wishing someone would try and break in and steal some of the building materials. At least then I could get warm by chasing them.
My job was garbage.
One night, I was responding to an alarm which had gone off at the lot of a car dealership.
I parked up outside. The alarm was flashing but there was no sign of damage to the building so I assumed it was yet another waste of time.
I stood in front of the window and looked at the sleek, high-performance vehicles on display that cost more than I would earn in a lifetime on my pathetic wage. My reflection peered back at me: a sad figure dressed in a grey security guard’s uniform.
I sighed, turned away and headed back to my car. I had left my work phone on the passenger seat. I had to use it to fill in an online form after every call out before leaving the scene and would get my wages docked if I did not complete all the boxes correctly. It felt so futile.
I unlocked the car and was reaching for the door handle when I saw movement across the road. A glimpse of something running on all fours.
It slipped down an alley and away out of sight.
I thought at first that it might have been a fox.
There were a small number of exclusive restaurants in the surrounding blocks and their refuse would be packed with tasty morsels for scavengers. They wouldn’t care that it was leftovers from haute cuisine prepared by a chef with his own show on cable tv.
But my hand hovered over the door handle.
What if it had been a dog? I wondered. A stray destined for the pound that would eventually, heartbreakingly, be put to sleep.
I had always liked dogs a lot. I admired their loyalty and their tenacity, though my circumstances over the years had meant I had not owned one since I was a teenager.
And though I should have got busy filling in the mind-numbing online form, I decided that could wait.
I wanted to see if it was a dog. If it was, maybe I could rescue it and give it a home. That would give my empty life some kind of purpose.
Trying not to think about how I was going to afford to pay for dog food and veterinarian’s bills, I set off on the animal’s trail.
The alley I had entered was narrow and dark. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust then carried on. I moved slowly, not wanting to spook the animal.
I knew that if it felt threated it could lash out, and the last thing I needed was a trip to ER to get treated for a bite.
But there was no sign of it and the only sound was a drunk singing in the distance.
I shook my head sadly. I would have to give up and get back to the car. There would be another job lined up for me by now and the supervisor would be wondering where I was.
I turned – but did not take another step.
A pair of eyes glowed in the darkness ahead of me. They were red and burning with rage.
I could see the snout of the animal now as well and its teeth… only they were not the teeth of any kind of dog or fox. They were way too big, way too sharp.
They were fangs. And they were coming my way.
My guts cramped with fear.
I needed to get out of there or stand and fight. I clenched my firsts.
The animal was close. It began to snarl and crouch. I realised with horror that it was about to go for me.
Suddenly the alley was filled with the sound of screeching tyres and an engine roaring like it was fit to burst.
A car sped into view. It was backing in and barely fit into the cramped space. Its sides scraped along the sides of the alley with a sickening screech. Then it slammed to a halt.
I heard a door open, and a man stepped out of the driver’s seat.
He wore a battered leather coat that reached almost to his ankles. A fedora was balanced at a rakish angle on his head.
He smiled, and I saw the glint of a gold tooth.
“Well, howdy,” he said to me, “I will take it from here.”
The animal had not moved since he had arrived on the scene. It had remained low to the ground, its teeth bared, its hackles raised.
The man stood tall before it, patted a holster on his hip and said, “I got six silver pieces in here. I will need only one. There will be no morning after regrets then. The only thing waiting for you will be a cold hard grave.”
It was insane. He was speaking to a crazed animal as if it could understand him.
The animal responded with a howl, then leapt at him.
Moving with lightning speed and agility, the man rolled out of the way and was back on his feet in a flash. He drew, and a loud retort filled the alley – all while the animal was still mid-air.
The impact of the projectile sent it spiralling down. It hit the ground heavily and did not move.
I stood there transfixed, barely able to breathe.
The man opened the trunk of his car, picked the animal up and placed it inside.
As he closed the trunk, I could swear I saw pale human skin appearing beneath the animal’s fur.
The man turned back to me. “Word of advice, stranger. Stay out of dark alleys on nights like these. The full moon’s real pretty, but she brings out the beast.”
Then he tapped the brim of his fedora in a relaxed salute and climbed back into his car.
I was left standing watching open-mouthed as he drove away.
I had not noticed that it was a full moon but, when I looked up, I saw it burning bright in the dark city night.
I took a deep breath and headed back to my car.
There were missed calls on my work phone and a red-flagged email telling me to report to personnel in the morning.
I did not tell the drone in the suit who I met in the security company’s headquarters at 9.30 the next day what had happened in the alley. I knew that was pointless. There was no way he would believe me – and, it turned out, the damage was already done.
I listened as he told me that I was fired for taking an unauthorised break.
It took all my self-control not to reach over the desk, grab him and tell him exactly what I thought of his organisation and his stupid face.
With my head held high, I walked out onto the street. I had my dignity but nothing else. I was unemployed and close to broke.
I needed to think. I decided it was too early to go to a bar and consider my options over a stiff drink, and my cramped apartment was the last place I wanted to be when I was already feeling down, so I set off walking.
I had no destination in mind, I just drifted.
As I paced the streets, my mood got bleaker and bleaker. I could not see a way out of the dire situation I was in.
Finally, as dusk fell, I gave in to the temptation of a drink. There was a bar on the corner. It had no windows and there was broken glass and cigarette ends scattered across the sidewalk in front of it.
It was a dive.
Ideal for a loser like me then, I figured, and headed in.
The inside of the bar was hazy with smoke and dimly lit by a fluorescent strip that was dancing with flies. There were half a dozen patrons nursing beers, and a juke box was playing a song about looking for love.
The only thing anyone was going to find in this place was regret and stale breath.
I headed to the bar and ordered a double bourbon neat. The barman slid over a glass and poured out the drink.
The rim of the glass had more fingerprints on it than a crime scene. Telling myself that alcohol was a very effective disinfectant, I downed the bourbon in one, then turned to leave.
Call it the ambiance, call it the dirty looks I was getting because my eyebrows did not meet in the middle, but this bar was not helping my mood one little bit.
I was almost back at the door, when it swung open and the man from the alley strolled in.
His fedora, long leather coat and confident strut made him stand out a mile in the seedy bar.
He looked at me and I saw recognition in his eyes, but he carried on right by me without a word and made his way towards a lone figure sitting at a corner table.
I’d paid this man no heed before. He was keeping to the shadows and, even as he was approached, he had eyes only for the drink that sat in front of him.
Common sense was telling me that there was about to be trouble and I should leave, but I had not ended up one step away from the gutter by listening to my common sense.
So I leant against a wall and watched and waited.
The man wearing the fedora had reached the table. He had his back to me, but I imagined a gold tooth glinting as he said, “It is time to end this.”
His voice was calm and cold. He meant business.
The lone figure responded by taking a long drink, then placing his glass back down slowly and deliberately. The sound of the glass clinking on the tabletop was the loudest sound in the bar by now.
The juke box was silent and everyone else in there seemed transfixed by the encounter as well.
The lone figure got to his feet. He was slender and dressed all in black. In the gloom, his eyes were two points of darkness and his skin looked drained of all colour.
Then he smiled, and I felt a cold chill run through my body.
The tips of his teeth were viciously sharp points. Had he had filed them down to be like that? I wondered. Or was there another explanation?
One that belonged far from the light of day, in a dank, dark place like this.
The lone figure kept smiling as he said, “That’s not going to happen. It’s night now, so I will be leaving here to get myself a drink that satisfies my thirst. The plasma they keep behind the bar for me here just doesn’t cut it. In fact, this whole situation lacks bite.”
Then he snarled and his jaws snapped open. His grotesque teeth looked like a steel trap. One that was about to close around the neck of the man in the fedora.
But, once again, he moved at speed, producing a sharp wooden stake from inside his leather coat and striking it into the heart of the lone figure – who screamed then crumbled into dust.
The man in the fedora turned to walk away.
Only his path to the door was blocked by the barman. He held a sawn-off. “You should not have done that,” he said. “Vampires are my best customers.”
Then he let loose with both barrels.
There was nothing the man in the fedora could do. He was sent flying backwards, crashing through chairs and tables before sliding to a halt.
Appalled at this vicious assault, I threw myself at the barman and knocked him out with a right hook.
Then I scrambled over to the man in the fedora. He was in a bad way, but he was still breathing. His eyes flickered opened.
I forced a reassuring smile onto my face and said, “Don’t try and move. I’ll call 911.”
“No, there’ll be too many questions.” he gasped and tried to sit up. His face contorted with pain and he swore. Then, through gritted teeth, he said, “Help me get out of here.”
I had no idea what he was talking about and still thought calling the authorities was the best thing to do, but I saw that the other customers were giving us filthy looks and that the barman was coming round. I decided that getting out of there as soon as possible was the wisest option after all.
I helped the man in the fedora get to his feet and took as much of his weight as I could as we struggled towards the door and out into the night.
I recognised his car parked across from the bar. He gave me the keys and collapsed into the passenger seat.
I was about to tell him I was not insured to drive his vehicle when I saw the door of the bar open and the barman emerge.
Getting pulled over for a traffic offense was small change compared to the volley that was about to come our way, so I dived into the car, gunned the engine and gripped the wheel as we sped away.
I almost hit a car at the next intersection but swerved just in time. My heart was beating way too fast and I was coated in sweat. Then the headlights of a truck filled my line of vision and its horn blasted out a warning.
It missed us by inches.
I could not take it anymore. I pulled up at the side of the road and sat there shaking.
I glanced over at the man in the fedora and was amazed to see he was grinning.
“What in Hades’ name is going on?” I snapped.
“I am a freelance operative,” he replied. “I am paid by the government to eliminate monsters.”
I looked at him, lost for words.
“Sounds crazy, I know,” he continued. “But I assure you I don’t need a straight-jacket, just one more favour. I live a couple of blocks from here. I’m figuring it would be safer to walk the rest of the way and, while my Kevlar vest, soaked up most of the blast I’m still in a world of pain…”
He left it hanging there.
I sighed then told him I’d help him get home but that was it.
A day that had started with me being fired had descended into chaos and my nerves were shredded.
With him leaning on me we made our way slowly through the streets, until finally we reached what looked to me like a derelict warehouse. Even though it was late, a steady stream of traffic passed by. This city never slept.
“This is my place,” he said, while unlocking the door with a big brass key. The door opened with a creak and I helped him inside.
He flicked a light switch on, revealing a long open plan room that was a strange mix of workshop and living space.
An old and very comfortable looking sofa sat in front of a tv that looked about thirty years old. There was a fridge nearby, a stove, and a sink that was piled high with dishes.
A tool box stood open on the floor near to the sink, and a wide wooden workbench ran along the side of one wall.
There was an unmade bed as well, and an empty clothes hanger. Rumpled clothes lay scattered across the floor.
“I’m guessing you live here alone,” I said.
He shrugged and responded with, “Wherever I lay my stakes, that’s my home.”
I thought he was joking until I saw the row of wooden stakes lined up against one of the walls. The tip of each was sharpened – just like the one he had used in the bar.
He tapped the nearest one and said, “I like to keep plenty of replacements. Always seem to be leaving the things behind.”
Then he made his way over to the sofa and sunk down onto it.
I could see he was still in a lot of pain, but his breathing was regular and as I watched his eyelids closed and he started to snore quietly.
It was time for me to make my exit – only I could hear the rain falling heavily against the roof of the building. It sounded filthy outside, and I was beat.
There was an armchair in one corner of the room. It looked ancient and the lining was split open in a bunch of places. At that moment in time, it also looked incredibly comfortable.
I dragged myself over and pretty much collapsed onto it.
I don’t even remember closing my eyes.
The next thing I knew, I was blinking and yawning and rubbing my face. The morning sun was reaching into the room from a skylight and there was a pot of coffee brewing on the stove.
There was also a fax machine whirring into life.
I thought they’d gone the way of the dinosaurs so was bemused by the spectacle as a printout appeared. I went over to see what was on the sheet of paper.
It was a two-tone reproduction of a mug shot. Whoever it was, was not going to win any beauty contests. He looked desperate and dangerous. He also appeared human, but I assumed there was more to him than met the eye, if he was of interest to a monster hunter.
Below the picture there was a dollar sign followed by four figures.
I whistled quietly to myself. To a man in my dire financial straits, it was a substantial sum.
I was thinking how having that kind of money in my pocket would have made my life a whole lot better, when the man who I had helped the night before came into the room.
He took the printout from me, studied it, then said, “Looks like it’s time for me to go back to work.”
His leather coat and fedora were on the floor. He started to bend over to pick them up but pulled up in pain.
“Look,” I said. “If I understand this right, and you’re going to try and take out that desperado for that fee, then I would say you are going to fail. I reckon at the best you’ve cracked a couple of ribs. What you need is a partner, with a fifty-fifty split of the money when we succeed.”
He did not look happy about my suggestion and replied, “It will be dangerous in the extreme. You must realise that after seeing the last couple of vermin I took out?”
Unease trickled through me. But I wasn’t going to be put off that easily. I really wanted the money.
I pointed at the mug shot and asked, “What kind of monster is this?”
He grabbed a second page that had appeared from the fax machine, read it, then told me, “It says he is a shapeshifter. He is more dangerous than the lycanthrope I killed in the alley because he can change at will, not just during the full moon, and he could well share the cold logic of the vampire from the bar. The amount of the fee reflects this.”
I swallowed and tried to pretend like I was not scared as I said, “My offer to partner up with you still stands.”
He felt his ribs then looked me in the eye and growled, “Let’s do this thing.”
He drove this time, wincing every time we hit a pothole.
I had the two printouts on my lap and was leafing through an old A to Z of the city. I was looking for the street name that was among the details provided on the second sheet of paper.
“You do know it’s much easier to do this online,” I told him, as yet another bump in the road made me lose my page.
“Easier, but risky,” he told me. “Emails and messaging services are frequently hacked but no one is looking for information sent by fax. And who’s to say someone is not looking at the results of your internet searches the moment you bring them up.”
“I guess you don’t trust money being wired into banks either. So how do you get paid?” I said with a cynical tone.
He replied without missing a beat: “In cash. Used notes. Collected from drop off points, and never the same place. Do you like being given cash in hand? I know I do.”
I had to smile. He had me there. I went back to the A to Z.
After a couple of unnecessary detours caused by my rusty map reading, we finally turned into the right street. The apartment block we were looking for was on our left.
Finding monsters in alleys and dive bars had made sense. I also assumed monsters would hang out in graveyards, crumbling mansions, and other generally creepy and run down locations.
As I climbed out of the car and looked up, I was surprised.
The apartment block was sleek and modern. Balconies extended below each window. The views from the upper ones must have been stunning. And back down at ground level there was no graffiti or trash anywhere in sight.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked.
He looked me at me and said, “The fax never lies.”
Then, hiding his pain behind a swagger, he strode up to the entrance and pressed a bunch of intercom buttons all at once.
“Someone is bound to be expecting a delivery,” he said, and sure enough we were buzzed in straight away.
We made our way through the plush lobby and waited on the elevator. The details we had been given also told us the shapeshifter lived in the penthouse suite.
“Must be profitable being a monster,” I said as the display showed the elevator descending.
The man in the fedora kept his attention on the display as he replied, “For some it can be. They use their differences to gather fortunes and power, sometimes through deluded acolytes, sometimes through violence and cunning. For others, though, being different is a curse, pure and simple. They wallow in filth, driven by base instincts to feed and hide. Either way, it is only a matter of time before they are identified as monsters and an operative is sent to end them.”
The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. The interior was wallpapered and there was a small, ornate sofa on one side. More signs that the shapeshifter had clearly done very well for himself.
That was all about to change.
The elevator ride was smooth and swift, and we emerged into a corridor where our boots sank into a thick, white carpet. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a security camera fixed high on the wall turn to face us.
I pointed it out and whispered, “Motion activated.”
The man in the fedora drew and obliterated the camera. “Not anymore,” he said and walked up to the door leading to the penthouse.
“It’s over,” he yelled then slammed his boot into the door. I noticed for the first time that he had steel toe caps and steel heels. The door cracked, he forced it open and stepped inside.
I followed. I could feel the adrenaline pushing my fear away.
The downtrodden security guard was history, I was a monster hunter’s partner now.
The vestibule of the penthouse was larger than any of the rooms in my apartment. There were oil paintings on the wall and light fittings that sparkled like jewels. A door opened up off it.
The man in the fedora was already barging through it. I hurried after him, into a living room with a floor to ceiling window. High rises soared in the distance.
A man sat in an antique chair in one corner of the room. I recognised him from the mug shot.
He had an arrogant sneer on his face. An arrogance that spread to his voice when he said, “Breaking into my home was a mistake. The last one you will ever make.”
Then he rose to his feet – and began to change.
His entire body expanded and within seconds he loomed over us. His skin cracked and dark fur began to appear. His fingers split open and claws unfurled, and the sneering face that looked down on us was now that of a beast.
It growled and with dizzying speed went for the man in the fedora.
He made to draw, but his injuries must have slowed him because the shapeshifter reached him before he could.
The shapeshifter lashed out with one of its claw-tipped paws, and the man in the fedora was sent flying across the room.
He lay there looking dazed. His leather coat and Kevlar vest were ripped and blood was seeping out.
The shapeshifter raised its claws, ready to inflict a fatal blow.
I had to act. I grabbed a chair and swung this at the shapeshifter. It turned and smashed the chair out of my grip.
I was left standing there as the shapeshifter snarled at me. The only thing I had achieved was to move up the victim chain. I would be diced and sliced and left as a gory mess on the floor.
My life flashed before my eyes, and I felt sick to the core as I realised my last thought would be: I have wasted my time on this earth.
Then something whipped into sight, a blur of silver. The shapeshifter looked confused, then its head toppled to the floor.
The man in the fedora dragged himself into view. He was holding a silver boomerang. “An excellent weapon,” he drawled, “Portable, with an edge that will cut through most anything, and very loyal. It always comes back.”
The decapitated head was already changing back into that of a man. A very dead man.
I turned away and was violently sick.
By the time I had recovered, the man in the fedora had left the room. I ran after him and called out, “Do we still have a deal? I get half of the fee.”
He was stepping into the elevator and did not turn round as he replied, “Yeah, sure. I’m going to collect it now. I’ll meet you later to hand over your share. Be at the alley where we first met, at midnight. And don’t be late.”
The doors slid closed behind him.
I punched the air and said, “Yes!”
I was too wired to head home or go for a drink so once again found myself pacing the streets.
I was excited at the prospect of the cash coming my way, but I wanted more than a pay-off. I wanted to be back on the trail of a monster. I wanted the rush of the confrontation. The elation of victory.
Sure, I was green and I knew there was no way I could strike out on my own. But the way forward was obvious. I had persuaded the man in the fedora to partner up with me once. I would do that again.
I was still telling myself that as I waited for him in the alley. It was five minutes to midnight.
Then midnight came and went and there was no sign of him.
I told myself not to worry. He would be there soon, with my money, and I would seize my opportunity to change my life forever.
But, by one a.m., I was still alone.
I cursed the man in the fedora. Did he think he could rip me off?
Well, there was no way I was going to let that happen.
I set off for his base.
It took me hours to get there on foot. I was exhausted but still furious, until I saw that his door was hanging open.
I knew that someone as security conscious as him would never have left it like that, and my anger dissipated.
My nerves tingling with dread, I slipped inside – to be met by a shocking sight.
The man in the fedora was lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
“No,” I cried out and ran forwards. I knelt next to him and tried to find a pulse, but there was nothing.
I began to weep. And as I did so, laughter drifted from the edge of the room.
I span round. A tall, pale figure dressed all in black walked into view. His eyes were pools of darkness. My mind flashed back to the lone figure in the bar.
The vampire.
Was this his kin?
“You did this.” I spat the accusation out.
The pale figure smiled. “I took my revenge.”
I was shaking as I screamed at him, “You murderer!”
The pale figure shook his head. “No. I did not kill him, because there are worse things than death I can inflict. You will see.”
Then, he walked away, out into the night.
My mind was racing. I needed to do something. But, what?
I decided I should take care of the body first. It was an empty shell now, but I still wanted to treat it with respect.
I grabbed a towel from among the things on the floor and began to clean away the blood. I stopped when I saw two wounds on the neck.
They were small and deep and I knew in my heart what they were.
Bite marks.
I recalled the vampire’s words: … there are worse things than death I can inflict.
And now when I looked down at the man in the fedora’s chest, I could see it was moving. This was so slight, it was no wonder I had missed it, but there was no question now. He was not dead.
He was undead.
I knelt there and watched as his chest rose and fell, as his eyes opened.
I could see the pain in them, the confusion.
“What happened?” he asked. His voice was very faint.
I told him. There was no point in lying. No way back.
And he knew that. Better than me.
“I can’t exist like this. As a monster,” he said in a quiet, weary voice.
Then he asked me to help him get up. I supported him as he struggled to his feet. He took off his fedora and handed it to me.
It was dawn by now and the sun was starting to reach into the room through the skylight.
He began to move through the shadows that remained towards the still open door.
He hesitated for a moment on the threshold, perhaps remembering his own life, perhaps summoning the courage he needed, then he stepped outside.
Through the gap, I could see the smoke rising from his exposed skin as the sunlight touched him.
I closed my eyes. I could not bear to watch.
I stayed like that for a long time. After a while, I moved over to the sofa and collapsed onto it.
I felt more alone and lost than I had ever done in my whole miserable life. The world was infected by evil. How could I find my place in it now my eyes had been opened to this?
At dusk, I made a decision.
There was one thing l could do. One thing I had to do:
Take revenge.
The need for this burnt white hot inside me.
I put the fedora on, picked up a stake and stepped outside.
The rain struck the streets as I stared out into the night. The lights of cars blurred as they passed, and sirens rose and fell in their endless serenade.
I took a deep breath. Excitement and fear mingled inside me. It was time to go to work.

So I (27F) live in an apartment complex with another roomate, who’s 53F. She has a little dog. We’ve had various issues in the past but basically I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells in my apartment when she’s here (and she’s ALWAYS there she literally never leaves). It feels like I can never do anything right. In the latest incident I had run out to my car (we have a latch gate leading up to our apartment door). I guess I had left it open by mistake. She knocks on my door and asks me why the gate is open. I apologize and tell her it wasn’t intentional and rolls her eyes and angrily huffs, “Just close it!” She has her dog after all. A couple weeks later she texts me saying “Why the fuck is the gate wide open?????” I’m like what are you taking about I know for a fact I closed it. And then I realized I ordered Door Dash and the guy left the stupid gate open. I didn’t even think to check as it was late and dark ect. which obviously again was a mistake. I told her I sincerely apologize. It was genuinely an honest mistake. She went on about her dog and her fish outside and also the fact it’s a security issue. She was like “You get ONE more time.” Meaning if this happens again she’ll kick me out I guess? But the thing is she also rents. She’s been living there for 15 years and reached out to me to rent the extra room. The actual landlord herself is super nice. Does my roommate technically have the right to kick me out??
TL;DR

Hi all - I have been grappling with an issue for a few weeks and getting different answers from different sources - so trying here (though that may further confuse! But let’s see)
We’re visiting Belfast and Northern Ireland in early June. We will be six people and a toddler with luggage so will likely need to rent two cars. I got my full driving licence on 3 June 2021 so will have had it for two years by that point. My wife got her full driving licence on 2 August 2022 and will not have had it for a full 12 months at the point we need to rent a car.
Most rental car companies require you to have had a licence for 12 months before you can rent a car. Enterprise is an exception - they replied to an email from me to say there is no minimum period a licence needs to be held to rent a car from them but I should check with the Belfast Int’l airport branch as well. When I called them, they asked if my wife is over 25, and I confirmed she was. Then they said - no, there is a rule in Northern Ireland that a rental car cannot hired by someone who has not held a licence for at least 12 months. I cannot find anything online which officially confirms this rule although many rental car company websites do say it (Enterprise Ireland and NI still don’t - link below).
https://www.enterprise.ie/en/help/faqs/drivers-licence-requirements-uk-ireland-germany.html
I should add that we will also be going to Scotland around the same time and Enterprise at Inverness airport checked and confirmed it would be fine, though their initial reaction was also ‘one year’ but I asked them to please double check - the gentleman did and said - “it’ll be fine, I learned something new today too”.
So, I am wondering if anyone here has any insight or experience of this issue? Perhaps the Belfast office also just shared their understanding of the general policy most companies apply and didn’t actually check their own rules?
Many thanks in advance!

Been talking tot his guy for a few weeks. Haven’t really had the whole “what are we?” Conversation, but he’s said a few times that he doesn’t want me to think that he only wants me for sex. Tonight I went to see him at his place and when I left he told me not to forget my hair clip. I honestly was so dead inside I just tried to act like I didn’t even hear him and basically just act like this wasn’t actually happening, and I didn’t pick it up, but of course… he doubled down and said again don’t forget your hair clip. And at that point I just picked it up knowing fully well it wasn’t mine and just took it with me. I don’t even know what to feel right now. I haven’t had sex with this guy at all yet, but I planned on it. I’m not so sure anymore and if I bring this up to him how do I not sound crazy and what kind of red flag responses should I look for?
He does rent a room in a house from a family so there’s a woman that lives there, but it still doesn’t explain why it would be in HIS room. I just really need some advice on what to do in this situation. I really like this guy and I’m actually not even against polyamory or anything but obviously polyamory involves consent of all people involved. Which is why it would suck even more if he was seeing other people and just not saying anything. Almost forgot to mention that he got two calls from a girl (I know cause I looked over at his screen when he was getting the call and it was a girls name. I think it said Kylie. He didn’t answer and was saying that it’s his friend, and that her mom just went to jail and that’s why she was calling him. I honestly feel stupid writing this all out but it is what it is please give me advice.

...from the apartment we lived in together for 4 years and by myself for 1 year after. The owner will double the rent and I simply won't afford to live there any longer.
To vent a little, I feel strange and sad. This flat was the last connection I had with her. The place where we created so many memories together. Us is impregnated in its walls, like echoes from a past life. Maybe it's a good thing that I have to move, because tbh I was kinda waiting here for her, hoping that maybe one day she'd come back and we could just resume our lives together from there.
Today I miss her so much and I'm afraid of the future. I feel like soon I'm going to be forced to say farewell to everything we had together and I'm not ready for it. I'm scared and I'm weeping and I feel cold, confused and lonely.

Why does god or whatever created all of this hate me? Born into an abusive family. Got taken away to group homes with even more abusive people. I did the best I could with the cards I was given. No family, no friends, no nothing. Most of my adult life I have been running away from stress and people. People hate me. For the first time in my life, I am doing halfway decent but stuck making 14 an hour with no chance for any raise. It has gotten so bad that I use the daily pay shit so I can drink and eat myself into oblivion.
My whole life has been a struggle up hill in the snow then god comes and fucks me right up the ass every time. I quit most of my jobs because it got too hard or too stressful. I just can't handle the stress. I feel like I am going to murder someone, so I just take myself out of the equation. Though I don't think I could ever hurt anyone because I would feel too bad. I know what it is like to be unwanted. I ate myself into 450 pounds. I am very strong and can handle the weight so it is hard for me to know when I am getting to big. I can walk miles and do. But everytime I get on the scale it is around 437-450.
Going through a bout of insomnia which makes me even more insane. I have a tooth that is rotting in my fucking mouth but can't afford to change that. It has been in my fucking mouth for years. I have hypothyroidism that I need meds for but can't afford it.
You know what I got for my year at being and working my ass off at my current job? A fucking auto bot email congratulating me on staying at the same pay for over a year. I don't want to die of covid because that is fucking horrible. I would rather my brain be obliterated via a bullet. My one friend has guns and I have a key for his place. Once he goes back to work, I am thinking about getting his shotgun getting some double ot ammunition and putting it in my mouth and pulling the trigger.
I was born fucked and am fucked even to this day. I just turned 47. I have anxiety about dying but the more I live the more that ansiety goes away. I sold my Switch and Xbox so I could have money to get caught up on my rent which is fucking 1200 a month here in phx. FUCK THIS UNIVERSE. god is a coward not coming down and fighting that which he hates.
All I wanted was the ability to take care of myself. I can be selfish and very selfish, but I have never had what every normal person has in this world. The chance to take care of themselves. I try and help people when I can, but I don't know how long I can carry on. I hate this exisitence.
You guys are probably used to seeing posts like this. Though I doubt the mods will let this post even get to the public. Everytime I have an opinion I get censored. So, I am used to it. I really don't know what to do anymore. I am tired of crying and getting angry because I exist. I am at my wits end. I feel like I am going crazy or maybe my so-called blood family was right, and I was crazy all along.
Anyway, thanks for reading if you were able to. I really do hope no one ever has to live the life I have had to live. Maybe whatever force created this shit will let me fall asleep peacefully and never wake up again.

A friend introduced me to his friend “A”, who needed to rent a parking lot from me. I was cool with it and did it at 30% discount considering it was a friendly arrangement, in which I mentioned specifically that I wanted payments proactively at the start of the month without me reminding him.
Fast forward 12 months, and he had to be reminded 6 out of those 12 months to pay up. There was even a period where he forgot to pay for three months straight, and apologized quickly that his automated transfer wasn’t working.
I then escalated this to his friend and mentioned to speak to “A” because I’m losing my patience after constantly reminding him to be more disciplined with payment
When the last month was the same excuse, I figured that was the last straw. I pinged him today at the start of the month to mention that I’m doubling his rent immediately. If he was not comfortable with that agreement, he could leave in 3 days or I’ll clamp his car. (I know this was an aggressive arrangement). But I mentioned to him that I did this because he has absolutely no payment discipline and I’m done with this behavior.
His response was also somewhat aggressive; he mentioned he will not agree to this rent increase or the 3 day deadline, and that he will need two weeks unpaid to go through this. I then told him he is no decision to dictate anything. We eventually met face to face where I got my parking card back, and he has 3 more days to get out before I clamp his car.
AITA?

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Wow, what a journey the last 6 weeks have been disrupting 13 years of sludge. Ramped up 7 years ago(everyday) after a bad breakup due to near crippling depression and anxiety. For the longest time, I just had it to make me feel numb at night then normal throughout the day. Too afraid of the withdrawals and the agony from lack of sleep it would cause for me at work, I just kept going.
There have been so many times it occurred to me this plant wasn't serving me or my best interests. I never really wanted to stop though for whatever reason even though I knew it wasn't good for my body or mind. I'd have these moments where I'd be like "fuck this plant", only to create some convenient excuse to keep on going with it.
Well, I've reached an age and level of maturity where I'm not willing to waste any more of my time with this shit. No more family dinners will be denied because "kratom is more important". I'll never sneak into the kitchen(or bathroom) behind another girlfriends back to shamefully partake. I wish I could go back in time and really live those lost years. It really hurts knowing the true cost of all this.
I don't want to advise anyone, but I do want to share what has worked for me. Since I don't have any friends that know wtf kratom is, I have a lot of shame regarding even bringing it up. Glad I found this sub because it really helps reading others' experiences. My taper started by cutting amounts in half, then eventually cutting out daytime use. It took 3 weeks to get from 30+gpd down to a couple gpd right before bed(just enough to be able to sleep).
I knew the taper was working because I felt mild withdrawals during the day. During this time, I also tried to identify the positives as I definitely felt more focused than I had in a while at times. I slipped a few times and doubled or trippled the amount at night just because. The last week before I went CT, I went to 10 gpd at night. That lack of control reminded me why it was so important for me to let it go.
I planned a trip with a psychadelic as I find enormous relief from the withdrawal symptoms. Not sure on the science behind it, but psychadelics are starting to be used to treat addiction(among many other things). I decided on one with a long half life for day one. At this point, it had been 24 hours since last K and w/d would have normally been only a few hours away. I stayed up til 5 am dancing and listening to music. Wound down with a movie then laid down for a few hours. The RLS wasn't as bad as it had been before and I did sleep a little bit.
For day 2, I knew I'd have a rough night and timed bedtime with magnesium and a .5mg clonazepam. I have a very low tolerance to benzos as I don't abuse them so once it kicked in, I was pretty much out for the night. I was suprised by how manageable the restlessness was, and expected it to be much worse.
Day 3 was the last night I took a sleep aid and went with a 25mg seroquel(low tolerance) and magnesium. Sleep came pretty easy that night too. The next night I tried to sleep without any help and it definitely was a little tougher, but I didn't have bad RLS thankfully.
Fast forward to now at 175 hours since my last K, I'm excited to lay down without "needing" anything to be comfortable. The last 3 mornings, I've woken up automatically much earlier than I'm used to feeling well rested and wide awake. I feel surprisingly good, and I'm not fearful of a long recovery. I'm looking forward to it.
I can't wait to navigate my life without K especially once I go back to work. I look forward to seeing myself through my friends', families', and co-workers' eyes. I have compromised too much of my potential for far too long. I know this was long, but I hope my experience can give someone a little bit of strength and encouragement(as everyone here has given me).

The gas giant loomed large in the viewport, ballooning as the ship coasted toward it, the colorful blue hues of its swirling bands reflecting the glow of the system’s star.
Darren could make out the bright, scarred surface of an ice moon drifting lazily past, framed against the rivers of flowing hydrogen and helium. Silhouetted against the Jupiter-mass object was their destination – Halfpoint Station.
Having come from Earth, which was still a backwater when compared to many of the Imperium’s more developed worlds, the sheer size and grandeur of the structure took his breath away.
It was hard to gauge its true scale in the vacuum of space where there was no atmospheric haze, and there were no landmarks for reference, the unfiltered light creating harsh shadows. As they drew nearer, however, he was able to pick out some of the massive fuel tankers that swarmed its ports like clouds of gnats.
Those vessels put anything created by Humanity to shame – their purpose being to dip into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, harvesting its resources to fuel the ships that made their berth here.
Calling it enormous was an understatement. It must have been nine miles tall, the main hull of the station forming a long, relatively thin vertical shaft. Surrounding that shaft were half a dozen rotating rings, each one connected to the central column by spokes, the pinpoints of innumerable windows glinting as they slowly turned.
At its apex was a dome of immense proportions, sitting proudly atop the structure, the crystalline material that made up its transparent hull glittering in the starlight. Inside, he could make out glimpses of regal skyscrapers and patches of parkland – an entire city encapsulated in a habitat that had a breathtaking view of the planet.
Darren pursed his lips as he looked down at the device on his wrist, the tiny display showing the familiar text of an article he must have read at least a dozen times by this point.
Halfpoint Station was situated on the outskirts of the Imperium’s sphere of influence, a region of space known only as the Periphery. This put it soundly outside of Purp jurisdiction, but the place still saw a lot of traffic, as the station was right in the middle of a relatively well-traveled shipping route between the three big powers.
While it had started its life as little more than a place to fuel up and get resupplied, being located outside any of the major spheres of influence had its benefits, and the station had garnered a bit of a reputation for its more permissive policies. Now, it was said to be populated by hired guns, smugglers, gamblers, and anyone else who might appreciate discretion.
The Human frowned as he looked out the window once more and tried to reconcile the gleaming edifice before him with the dark reputation the article in his hands presented.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the pilot’s crackly voice came through a hidden intercom in the cabin, informing the passengers that they were commencing docking procedures.
The woman spoke in accented Shil. What that accent was, Darren had no clue, but he knew it wasn’t the same one spoken by his professors – linguistic or mechanical.
He glanced around at his fellow travelers, seeing a few species that he didn’t recognize, along with the more familiar Shil’vati. The aliens were easily identifiable by the purple hue of their skin, their sharp tusks, and their seven-foot height.
Several of them returned his gaze, some curious, some covetous.
Males were rare in the Imperium.
Hell, males were rare, period.
By the standards of most races out in the galaxy, Humanity were the strange ones for having an equal number of men and women. Even six years into the occupation, most were still struggling to adapt to the new paradigm brought on by that reality.
Darren was no exception.
Still, he managed to ignore the stares, turning his attention to the smart display on his wrist, bringing up his itinerary. He was headed to Hab-Ring Five, and the only information that he’d been given beyond that were some coordinates to who-knew-where.
He sighed, wishing – not for the first time – that he might have a fellow first timer to converse with.
Unfortunately, that was a pipe dream.
The lack of other Humans on his ship wasn’t surprising. The Imperium had only recently relaxed enough to begin authorizing travel visas allowing Humans to leave Earth, and his kind were still a rarity on the Galactic stage.
As to why he was out here out in the ass end of space?
He’d been offered a job.
He was an engineer by trade, at least according to his degree, and he specialized in the combination of alien and Human technology. It might seem like an oddly specific skillset, but it was one that was in high demand, as just about every industry on Earth was trying to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the Imperium’s literal space-age technology.
It was complicated work, but he was quite good at it, if he said so himself – and his professors seemed to agree. His gift had catapulted him through university and had apparently landed him a very lucrative offer to take up a position on Halfpoint.
How they’d heard of him, he wasn’t too sure. Nor did he truthfully know exactly what the job entailed. Apparently, he was to be briefed on-location.
Regardless, off-world work was a rare opportunity for any Human, let alone one fresh out of school, and visiting an alien space station was a lot more interesting than backpacking around Europe for a year.
Whatever happened, it was going to be an adventure.
The ship matched velocity with one of the rotating rings, the structure at least half a mile tall in its own right, covered in tiny windows that made it look like a whole city block had been condensed down into the shape of a donut.
Now that he was a little closer, Darren could see that the station was actually far from pristine. Its hull was pocked with haphazard repairs, the newer sections shining brighter than their older counterparts, its armored panels pitted with little craters from space debris and micro-meteorite impacts.
The ship lined up with a docking port, and an umbilical walkway began to extrude from the ring, reaching out towards them. It looked like the jib of a crane, covered over with a flexible material that bore a suspicious resemblance to a grey tarp.
Surely it wasn’t actually a tarp? No, it had to be some kind of alien supertech – too advanced for him to recognize at a glance.
Right?
His thoughts did little to reassure him as the umbilical connected to the shuttle’s airlock with a tangible thud.
Shaking his head, he retrieved his travel bag, then made his way down the aisle to join the queue of passengers who were waiting to disembark. More of them crammed in behind him, and he tried to ignore their uncomfortable proximity.
He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time around aliens during his schooling. One of his professors had been a Shil, but she had been professional to a fault and had always kept a healthy distance from her students.
Of course, she had still managed to be rather intimidating despite that, her head seeming to scrape the ceiling every time she stepped into the classroom. However, Darren was rapidly discovering that being surrounded by women who stood head and shoulders above him was a different experience altogether.
It was nothing to get worked up over, though. He just needed to-
The Shil standing behind him pressed close – uncomfortably close – Darren swearing that there was room enough in the aisle for her to keep her distance. Suddenly, he felt a sharp twinge in his rear.
Had she just...pinched him? No, it had to have been a mistake.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, looking up at the towering Purp. “Sorry, Ma’am, I must have bumped into you.”
Her sly smile faded as she furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she had time to formulate a reply, the intercom above the exit beeped.
“Oh, looks like we’re moving again!” Darren chimed as he began to follow the queue. “Sorry!”
He followed the procession of towering women into the passenger ship’s airlock. Both of the pressurized doors were open, and before him stretched the umbilical. The worryingly thin material that protected them from the deadly vacuum of space was wrapped taut around a metal frame, and the walkway beneath his feet was made up of a simple grate.
After a short walk, they emerged into a cavernous dock area, so large that it was more like standing in some kind of indoor stadium than anything that could be compared to a space station. There were stacks of shipping containers and unidentifiable machinery everywhere he looked.
It was a challenge not to stop and examine the equipment, each new sight piquing his interest, each strange device begging to be investigated. As he followed the other passengers to the far end of the room – his head on a swivel – he almost bumped into one of the containers. To his surprise, it was floating a foot off the ground, suspended on an anti-gravity cushion.
It was funny – no matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped being surreal to see something just…float.
As he stooped to look beneath it, an irritated dockworker leaned out from behind it to yell at whoever was in her way. She stopped when she saw him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She was a Rakiri, if Darren remembered correctly. She resembled a towering werewolf, a pair of cat-like eyes peering out from beneath her black fur, her facial features strangely leonine. She was clad in dirty, yellow coveralls that hung loosely from her broad shoulders, exposing the ragged tank top that she wore beneath it. Tufts of her dark coat poked out around the faded garment, giving her a surprisingly fluffy appearance.
“You lost, boy?” she asked as she shooed him out of her path. “Stay behind the yellow warning markings unless you want to get that cute butt smushed,” she added with a nod toward the deck. She continued to push her heavy container, moving it effortlessly on its gravity cushion.
More dock workers were assembling to stare at him, perhaps having never seen a Human before. Or perhaps it was because he was male? It was hard to tell. Either way, a small crowd of yellow-clad women saw him off, a couple of them hooting at him and waving. Not sure if this was some kind of alien greeting, he shyly waved back, eliciting laughter from them after a moment of surprise.
One started to make her way over to him before a menacing growl from her superior made her freeze in place sheepishly. Darren took that as his cue to move on – he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble by being in the way.
He arrived at a security gate, and after being asked to show his visa, he was subjected to a very thorough – and in his opinion unnecessary – pat-down. Once he was cleared, he emerged into the station proper. He stepped out of the way of the women behind him, then set his travel bag down on the metal deck, taking in the alien sights and sounds for a moment.
Far from being a sterile, clinical environment, he found himself in a bustling bazaar worthy of any city back on Earth. It scarcely felt like he was standing inside a station at all, what passed for the ceiling so high above his head that he could barely make out the crisscrossing support beams and maintenance catwalks.
It was styled like a cramped street, too small for cars, almost like the city center of some old European town had been reimagined in an industrial style. Civilian quarters that resembled apartment blocks rose up towards the ceiling, connecting to it in some places, likely leading up to higher levels of the station.
In every nook and cranny – anywhere there was room – the denizens of the hab-ring had set up little stalls where they were hawking their wares to the tourists who had just boarded. Colorful awnings fluttered in the artificial breeze from the air recyclers, and insulated cables that had been patched from the station’s systems trailed along walls and floors, powering streetside food stands and colorful neon signs.
Speaking of the denizens, they came in all shapes and sizes. Darren had never seen so many varieties of alien in one place before. He could make out a few Shil and Rakiri, but most were unknown to him, the varied hues of their skin and clothes creating a bustling sea of color.
He checked the device on his wrist again, pulling up the coordinates that his new employer had forwarded to him. This was indeed Hab-Ring Five, and he’d been given what passed for an address in this strange environment. Hefting his bag once more, he made his way into the throng, having to dodge and weave between the towering aliens. Many of them barely seemed to register his presence, probably due to his comparatively small stature, though some seemed to stop and stare in confusion.
Well, I suppose Humans are pretty new on the galactic scene, he thought to himself.
The scents of strange, alien food assailed him as he navigated the cramped streets, a few of the criers singling him out. They had sharp instincts, he’d give them that. It seemed the locals could smell a tourist at thirty paces.
Maybe it was all the staring he was doing?
Eventually, he arrived at his destination, glancing up from his display to see a dingy bar. It was open to the street, built into an overhang at the base of one of the many buildings, little more than a long counter with a few stools. Above it was a blinking neon sign in a script that he couldn’t read. As he made his way inside and struggled up onto one of the tall stools, the small handful of patrons who were sitting off to his left paused their conversation to examine him.
They were Nighkru, their goat-like horns and the bruise-purple hue of their skin giving them away. Their silver eyes were striking, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the bar, as reflective as those of a cat. Their clothing was all tight leather and straps, their skin strategically exposed in places to show off their stunning bioluminescent tattoos, the swirling patterns trailing down slender limbs and across toned midriffs.
He kept his gaze aimed forward, knowing that their kind didn’t think much of the Imperium to which he now belonged.
…Then again, that was true for pretty much every race that wasn’t a part of the massive interstellar empire. Say what you would about the Purps, but they knew how to make an impression.
The bartender walked over to him, leaning on the counter as she looked him up and down skeptically. It was another Rakiri like the dockworkers, her feline nose twitching as she took in his scent.
“You lost, or do you want something to drink?” she asked.
“No thank you, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied sheepishly as he lowered his eyes to his device again.
He was right on time, but as he looked around, there was no sign of his contact. He was supposed to meet them here, right?
The Rakiri shrugged her furry shoulders, then left him to his own devices, moving over to the small group of Nighkru.
Perhaps one of them was his contact?
He certainly hoped not. While he didn’t have anything against a person enjoying themselves with a good drink after hours, it wasn’t a good way to make a positive first impression on a prospective employee.
Fortunately for him, the surprise on one of the trio’s grey skinned faces when she happened to blearily peer in his direction dashed that possibility. Just a trio of young women out for a drink.
Unfortunately for him, after a few hastily whispered words to her friends, the group made their way over to him.
“Don’t see many males round these parts,” one of them said, her faux leather getup creaking as she planted her hands on the bar to his left. Another leaned on the counter to his right, the third posting up behind him.
“A Human, too,” the woman to his right added with a sly chuckle. “Now, what’s a Human doing all alone out on the Periphery?”
“I didn’t think the Purps were letting their pets off the leash.” the one behind him snickered.
“I don’t know,” the first said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe he snuck out in search of a real woman? I think we’ve all heard how Humans can be.”
That set the three of them laughing.
All the while, Darren wasn’t sure where to look, turning his head left and right as he struggled to pick a Nighkru. He settled on the woman to his left, having to lift his head to meet her gaze, those reflective eyes shining like a pair of silver coins.
“I...uh...was actually supposed to be meeting someone here.” he stammered, a little of his anxiety bleeding through.
The Nighkru gave him a warm smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes, leaning a little closer. He tried to pull away reflexively but found another Nighkru waiting for him, something rather soft pressing against his back.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here but me and my friends,” one of them said as she tutted dramatically. “Maybe they stood you up?”
“Poor form, that,” the one behind him whispered into his ear. He lurched in his seat, surprised by her proximity. “Leaving a pretty young thing like you hanging.”
The first one nodded, as if that was a piece of sagely wisdom. “I know – how about my friends and I give you a personal tour of the station to make up for it?” she asked, reaching out to brush a piece of errant fluff from his collar. “We’ll even carry your luggage for you – we’re nice like that.”
She signaled to one of her compatriots with a curt nod, who then plucked his travel bag off the deck.
“Oh, that’s really not-”
He tried to stand, but he was cut off as two of the women placed their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Their touch was gentle, but firm, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.
Darren looked to the Rakiri bartender for help, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the turn of events, but she was staying out of it. She was feigning disinterest, cleaning a glass with a rag that didn’t look clean enough for the job.
It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting any help from her.
Was this really going to be his first experience on the station – kidnapped by a gang of alien grifters?
Just as he was getting ready to – likely ineffectually – start swinging like his life depended on it, he heard a voice ring out in a language he didn’t recognize.
The Nighkru turned their heads as one, and he followed their gaze, seeing another of their kind step in from the street. Her skin had the same twilight hue, her silvery hair pulled back into a long ponytail that trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She wore a jet-black body suit that left little to the imagination, so tight that it might have been sewn onto her, the garment open at the front to expose a chiseled midriff and the beginnings of her cleavage. Her eyes were mesmerizing, his gaze drawn to the glowing tattoos that served to accentuate them.
Oddly, unlike the trio surrounding him, she had no horns.
The stranger walked with purpose, her heels clicking on the deck, her hair swishing behind her as she came to a stop to stare down the three other women. They were already backing off, the Nighkru who had taken his bag setting it back down gingerly beside his seat. Did they know this person? They seemed so wary of her.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” one of them whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before she followed her friends out into the street.
Once they were finally out of sight, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the newcomer. Before he could utter so much as a word, she beat him to the punch.
“You shouldn’t wander around Halfpoint alone,” she said, skipping the preamble. Her voice had a melodic tone, one that was almost musical to Darren’s ears. She planted her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him with a skeptical expression. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I’m just...waiting for someone,” he replied. “Thank you, by the way. I’m-”
“Do you have a weapon on you?” she asked, cutting him off. “A handgun under that jacket? Defense spray? A pocket knife?”
“What? No,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have a gun?”
Even with a few inches of titanium-alloy plating between everyone aboard and a messy death by explosive decompression, using a firearm on the station seemed risky.
She snorted derisively, almost as though she couldn’t believe his reply.
“For your sake, I hope that whoever you’re waiting for is smarter than you are,” she said with a roll of her silver eyes. “This isn’t Earth, boy. There are no Shil Marines around to babysit you. Next time you want to play tourist, go somewhere closer to home.”
With a flick of her long hair, she turned about, vanishing into the crowd once more to leave him sitting at the bar in confusion.
Darren felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see an Edixi wearing grease-stained overalls standing behind him. The tool belt that hung loosely about her hips let him know that she was a mechanic before she’d even had time to open her mouth.
Her kind were evolved for an aquatic environment, and although they were fully amphibious, they retained many of their ancient features. Their bodies were smooth and streamlined, with lean, lightly-muscled frames that made them look like Olympic swimmers. Her eyes were a striking ocean-green, and her azure skin was patterned with faded tiger stripes, darkening as it neared her extremities.
“You’re the new engineer, right?” she chirped excitedly.
“Darren Fogle, pleased to meet you,” he confirmed as he extended a hand. She took it, shaking it eagerly, and he noted that her fingers were webbed.
He was a little surprised by how smooth her skin was. Given the sharklike appearance of the Edixi – and her vocation – he’d expected it to be rough and scaly. Maybe cold and slimy, too. By contrast, it was warm and soft, her small scales smooth like a snake’s rather than sharp like those of a fish.
Odd.
“Oh, it is. It very much is. The boss told me to fetch you,” she said before turning back towards the street. “Don’t get lost, you hear? There are some rough types around these parts.”
Yes, she could say that again. He stooped to pick up his bag, then hurried after her, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. He also belatedly realized that she hadn’t told him her own name.
Was that an Edixi thing or was she just in a hurry?
The mechanic led him through the streets, which seemed to be arranged in a kind of grid pattern, always flanked by the towering hab-blocks. It was as challenging as ever to navigate when so many of the station’s inhabitants stood a head taller than him. It made him feel like a bug that was trying to avoid being stepped on.
He could only assume he’d get used to it. His guide seemed to have no problem getting around, and she was a few inches shorter than him.
Their destination was some kind of service elevator – a large platform that seemed designed to carry heavy cargo up from the docks, wide enough that a couple of trucks could have parked on it side by side. There were still a few cargo containers stacked off to one side that hadn’t been unloaded yet.
He watched as the woman hit a touch panel beside the double doors, and they began to slide shut, the platform lurching as Darren felt it start to rise. There was no grinding of machinery, no vibrations, only a sensation of getting heavier. It was obviously gravity-manipulation tech. It wasn’t too surprising – the Shil seemed to use it for just about everything, so it wasn’t too strange that the rest of the universe did as well.
Convergent technological development, he could almost imagine his Shil instructor saying as they started to descend. Good tech is good tech.
The hab-ring’s many levels flashed by one by one, until finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. Darren followed the happily humming mechanic out into a garage, his eyes lighting up as he took in his new surroundings.
Were those… mecha?
The bay’s walls were lined with bulky harnesses that were obviously designed to hold the machines in place, a few of the berths already occupied by half-disassembled vehicles.
They were!
“Real life mecha,” he mumbled.
As a mechanic, he wasn’t ignorant of the genre. After all, what kind of engineer didn’t hold a soft spot for giant stompy robots? Of course, as an engineer, he also held an inherent disdain for anyone that actually thought said machines were even remotely practical outside of the realm of fiction.
The Square Cube Law was a harsh mistress.
The long and short of it was that if you doubled a machine's height while keeping it the same shape, you ended up with four times the muscle power moving eight times the mass. As a result, instead of having the same relative agility as the original, the double-sized machine actually had only half.
That was why ants could lift so much relative to their weight. If you scaled one up, you’d end up with a much less impressive power to weight ration.
And, the problem only got worse the bigger you went. Giant robots would be slow, cumbersome, and they would inevitably suffer from exploding ankles if they tried to move too fast. They’d also sink in just about any terrain that was even slightly porous.
All in all, mecha were a cool concept with absolutely zero real world applications.
Which was why he was so stunned to see some in real life. Sure, the Shil military liked to use exos, but they were really just power armor by any other name with thrusters attached. Besides, the only reason those things could skip around like they did was because they had anti-grav generators…
His thoughts trailed off as an idea occurred to him. He jogged over to the nearest machine, peering up at the twenty-foot humanoid monstrosity. Its legs had been detached, leaving only a bulky torso covered in half-stripped sensory equipment, lenses and scanners visible where their protective covers had been removed. The cockpit was open, revealing the pilot’s seat, along with the surrounding neural interface cables that hung loose like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Its weapon attachments were empty, but it was nonetheless an awe-inspiring sight.
Sure enough, there were two oversized humps on the back. One was clearly for the thing’s fusion engine – and the other must have held the anti-grav generator.
“Darren?” the mechanic asked, having only just realized that he wasn’t behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, jogging for a few paces to catch up. “That’s a mecha!”
The blue-hued alien nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“A mecha,” he reiterated.
Which prompted another slow nod. “You’ve never seen a gladiator mech before?”
“No.”
“Didn’t they tell you what job you’d be doing?” the mechanic asked, cocking her head in a rather adorable manner.
“No?” This time it was his turn to cock his head.
Several emotions seemed to fly across the alien’s face. He saw surprise, confusion, and dismay before she finally settled on irritation.
“Typical,” she grunted. “Just… follow me.”
AN: https://youtu.be/a3Xp1WhRQ9Q

I’m the MOH for my best friends wedding. I’m in the process of planning the bachelorette party, & man can I say it’s been stressful. Not the planning/deciding what to do portion of it, but trying to communicate with all the bridesmaids in the wedding. I’m currently living out of state, so I figured in doing a weekend getaway near a big city nearby where all the girls/bride live in. I spoke to each individual girls on renting an Airbnb, splitting costs and a range of budget. Two of the girls, told me straight from the beginning that they cannot attend due to costs/other things going on. The other three girls said yes and are okay with with idea/budget. Hence I’ve never met any of these girls before.
As the date gets closer and closer, one of the girls ghosted me completely. I had to double text her multiple times throughout the month to get her to respond back a few times & then she completely stopped talking to me. Another girl told me that she may not be able to make it anymore, & the last girl also never got back to me either.
I feel as if I’m the only one putting effort/initiating to make this bachelorette party Amazing for the bride 🤍 I’m constantly pulling teeth to get these girls to respond to me & now I feel completely stupid, and awkward that I have to see these girl in the wedding soon.
Also, I booked the Airbnb ahead of time, bc I didn’t want to lose it. Once I asked for the cost upfront, only one girl responded back saying she can’t go anymore.
I’m so confused & frustrated. I completely understand if finances may be the reason, but at least communicate with me, rather than ignore me and keeping me wondering.
Luckily I was able to get a refund on the Airbnb, & decided to rent a cute small 1 bedroom Airbnb studio (on my own)for the bride and I locally where she lives. I have to make new plans, and now I feel more awkward as every to reach out to the girls once more on the new plans for the bachelorette party.