Hey everyone,
I've been doing The Artist's Way at least once a year since 2019, sometimes more than once a year. So, I’ve done the program about seven times so far. This week is week four, the week for recovering a sense of integrity. It's also the week that Julia Cameron suggests we do reading deprivation. This time around, I knew it would be different because I’m on a three-month vacation. Some of it I’m spending at home, and some while traveling. I’ve realized how dependent I am on work and being in a work mentality, even though I’m in a creative field.
Starting my vacation, I felt a mix of elation and, "Oh my god, what am I going to do with my time?" Despite being a workaholic, I usually spend my free time doing things that feel good, like reading a lot or watching TV shows. Other than a bit too much time online—on TikTok, Instagram, or whatever—I’m good at finding enjoyable activities. But reading takes up a lot of my time.
I really didn’t expect this Reading Deprivation Week to be this hard. I’ve done it many times before and know the benefits. Every time, I’ve experienced difficulty at first, and then I get into it, learning a lot about myself. But this time, I just feel so angry, annoyed, upset, and frustrated. I’m prepared—I have a puzzle out, I’ve been looking at old photo albums, I got a new coloring book, and I found a couple of playlists I’m excited to listen to. So, it’s not like I don’t have something to do. But I don’t know how to settle down and actually do it. I didn’t realize how much I live in a constant state of inner noise. Now, I don’t get to fill that noise; I just have to listen to it. And it’s hard.
On the first day of reading deprivation, I actually napped, and I never nap unless I’m sick or something is wrong. I napped so hard yesterday and still went to bed early that night. It’s unsettling not to be doing my usual routine, and it’s jarring how quiet it is. I guess that’s the whole point, but it’s also a little miserable because I love to read and watch an episode of something while I eat. I love snacking on my favorite snacks while watching something. I love learning, even on TikTok, where I usually watch stuff about life or self-development or psychology. It’s fun when I’m consuming. But I guess the consumption is too much. And going from that to nothing is… it’s not good. And yet, I know it is. I really don’t know what to do with myself. I know what Julia Cameron suggests, but I still don’t know what to do with myself. The silence is so damn loud.

There’s one last thing I’ve mostly neglected to mention until now. It’s true that I’ve never paid a dime of rent on this house; it goes back in my family for generations. So why do I have a landlady?
I don’t talk about the Landlady that much out of some odd respect for her privacy. She’s a very guarded… being. Almost certainly not human. But she takes care of me and the farm while still giving me the freedom to do pretty much whatever I please. There have been times when she’s let me know I’ve done something she doesn’t like. When I used to leave out mousetraps, somehow they’d always end up in my shower or on my pillow in just the right place that I wouldn’t see it until it was too late. It didn’t take me long to get the hint, and I started leaving out the no-kill traps after that.
Ever since it was just my mother and me, we’ve had an unspoken agreement. On the first night of every month, I set a basket or two full of eggs on my front porch, and in the morning, it’s replaced with enough fresh food to last the month and proof of paid bills. She even pays for my Internet and cable. Not long after that all started, I started calling it the Offering. It sounds cooler that way.
I’d seen the Landlady once before the Mega-Chicken attack. The night after my mother left, I sat on the porch all night and cried out for her, hoping against hope that I’d see her walking back up the road. When I wandered far enough away from the house to peer into the woods behind it, I saw her. The Landlady cast a shadow in the full moon that was way larger than she was, her silver eyes glowing out into the darkness. She didn’t come any closer, but she stood there the whole night. I could feel her presence, even when I couldn’t directly see her. The message was easy to grasp— she didn’t want me to feel alone. She’s a mysterious entity, but she’s a kind one.
The point of my mentioning this now is that I had not a single scrap of food left. And with my fear of leaving the farm and coming back to it in ruins, there was only one place I could get it.
But, when Dawson left, that was the furthest thought from my mind.
I don’t know how long I stayed there on those stairs. I couldn’t tell you if you put a gun to my head, but I do know it was too long. I ran into the house and frantically grabbed chemicals, then I dropped to my knees on the porch and didn’t come up.
Hours passed. The only thing I can recall was the smell of bleach and the burning underneath my fingernails. The time stretched out into days. I slept if and where I dropped. I didn’t eat. The only water I had was from the cold rain on my face. Dawson faded in and out of my perception, but I couldn’t be sure if he was real or one of the Rot’s newest tricks. He told me to come with him. He told me I needed to eat. He told me I’d never looked this sick.
Each time, I told him no. I couldn’t leave, and the mold had to come off.
Eventually, I realized I was out of bleach. I had probably been out of it for a while, but the pungent smell lingering on my skin had fooled me into scrubbing rawly at the wood for time immeasurable.
I stood for maybe two seconds before collapsing back onto the porch. The entire thing was now covered with fat patches of black. I pulled myself forward and into the open door with bloody hands and bruised knuckles.
Once I felt the smooth kitchen floor underneath my aching limbs, clarity washed over me. I was dying. I was lying here on the floor, starving to death. I lifted my head just enough to turn it, and that’s when I saw it.
Beside the front door sat a basket full of eggs. They were speckled with black spots, and some of them were that same bright red: clearly bad. That thing was throwing off the balance, even for the Girls. Still, placed at the top were the few good ones from the clutch, and attached was a simple note with flowery handwriting. It was written upside down, but I could still pick out the words after focusing my swimming vision.
Don’t be stubborn, chickadee. You know what you have to do.
And I did. I finally did know what I had to do.
I took the basket and used the wall to push up to my knees. Eggs in trembling arm, I slid across to the doorway. They fell from my hand the second I made it out to the porch, rolling across it and down the stairs. Several of them broke in the process.
“Man, Dawson, if you were here,” I said, in a loud, delirious voice, “you’d have probably said something like ‘Wow, Newport, eggcellent job there!’”
I started to laugh, but then I wasn’t laughing anymore. What precious water I still had was escaping from my eyes like it was late for the water cycle.
When I still had my family, I used to enjoy being alone every now and again. They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I’d hide in my closet with a book or daydream underneath my bed. Now, I’d give almost anything to see my father’s heavy work boots walking up beneath the bed skirt.
Another one of my mother’s fleeting special interests had been the ocean. Marine biology, oceanography, maritime travel, you name it. For a few months, it was all she would talk about. I remember my father sitting with her in the night and enthusiastically soaking in every single odd fact or long tangent she had to give. I know he loved her.
I listened, too. Laying in bed at night, when things were a little too much, I’d close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else. Surprisingly, this was my one exception to the teleportation fear. One of the things I’d heard about in my mother’s passionate rambling was Point Nemo.
Point Nemo is, statistically, the loneliest place on Earth. It’s not an island but a set of coordinates in the Pacific Ocean known as the “oceanic pole of inaccessibility.” Often, the closest living people are on the International Space Station when it passes by overhead. Someday, the US government will crash it into those same waters.
I’d picture myself there, bobbing up and down in the waves and enjoying the relative quiet. I’d see nothing but calm horizon stretching out forever, and the full moon and stars above me. I was utterly alone, and that was just how I wanted it.
I was there again now, but this time it was different. It was pitch black, with no moon and no stars. All I could see were the monstrous waves moments before they rolled over my head. Dead machines groaned beneath me, desperate to return to the cosmos they had fallen out of. I kicked and fought desperately against the tide but couldn’t stay up long enough to take even a single breath. The water was freezing and boiling all at the same time, and I was drowning. I was alone, and what’s worse, this time, it was entirely my fault. I wondered briefly who was going to be the lucky person to find my waterlogged corpse.
When I opened my eyes, it all stopped. I hadn’t realized they’d closed. My head rested at an uncomfortable angle, and I could barely see anything around me. But I could see an enormous shadow fall over me.
“Just get it over with,” I mumbled. “There are other people in this McDonald’s drive-thru, you know.”
The voice that responded sounded like the whisper of the wind as it passed through northern trees and also like the howl of a wolf as it echoed down a southern canyon.
Easy, child.
Goosebumps immediately rose up on my arms as it finally dawned on me in my sorry state. It was her. She’d never spoken to me before. It was only right to speak back, but I didn’t have time for small talk.
“I don’t have any more food. I’m starving. That thing took it all. You have to have seen it by now. It took all my food, and it’s killing my crops and screwing with my animals. It wants to run the farm into the ground. It wants to watch me and this farmhouse rot and return to the earth.”
I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. I hated to beg, but I was quickly running out of options and even faster out of time.
“Please. You have to help me. I’ll give you double eggs next time, I swear. I don’t want to die. You have to know how to get rid of this thing.”
As she walked closer, silent as a doe, I could just barely see her in my bleary vision. Her dark cloak pooled around where I assumed she had feet, and I could see a few wild strands of branch blonde hair curling out from the hood. As I looked up, I beheld a sight my fading sense could barely comprehend. A pair of deer antlers grew out from beneath the hood of the cloak, eight feet tall and strung with vines, leaves, and feathers. The tips were painted with dried blood, as well as the runes across the length of them. The base of each was as thick as my wrist.
She touched the back of my head with thin, calloused fingertips. And then I was gone.
When I came back to the land of the living, it was surrounded by vegetables. The morning sun glittered off the skin of baskets full of fresh produce and the clean, solid wood of my porch. A wonderful smell filled my nose, and I tracked it down to a carefully wrapped piece of cooked venison. I didn’t think; I just ate.
Moments like that one make me so glad that almost no one ever comes out here. If someone had walked up the path to my porch right then, they would’ve seen what appeared to be a dirty gremlin going to town on the liver of a small child. My stomach ached a little, but I managed not to puke. Water dribbled down my chin as I drank from the small wooden bowl left out next to… a bag of salt?
I looked closer at the burlap sack, with SALT printed in faded black letters across the front and filled to the brim with large black salt crystals. A note was attached to the outside, and in faint, formal handwriting, it read, “This one is on the house.” Even if I could carry it inside, I didn’t have the slightest idea what it was for. I was just glad the Landlady cared enough to give me a hand.
“Thank you!” I called out into the dawn, hoping she could hear me wherever she was. Then I crawled on my hands and knees back into the house. I was feeling a little better, but it was still hard to breathe for some reason, and the vertigo was worse than a Barbie head in a blender.
I’d pulled myself halfway into the kitchen when I heard that firm, familiar voice. It spoke with that soft Southern drawl, the one I’d somehow never picked up.
“Newport.”
I kept crawling forward, pushing the door closed with my foot. It’s just another trick. Ignore it, and it’ll go away.
“Neeeewpoorrrrt.”
I tried to focus on the task at hand. I needed to get the food inside. Maybe Aunt Jean would lend me a hand? No, she’d done enough for me lately as it was. I might be able to get a rope and have Heph help me, but the last time I let him in the house, I was cleaning up horse piss out of the carpet for three hours straight. Dawson wasn’t here. And I wasn’t about to—
“Newt!”
My hand came down again as I tried to pull myself forward, but instead, it landed in a puddle of red and slipped out from underneath me. The stench of meat and iron overwhelmed me as my head hit the floor.
Blood. It was all over the floor and all over my hands and all over him. He was calling out to me, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t breathing, and I could see his brain inside his skull. All I could think of was I thought people’s brains were supposed to be pink, not gray. His eye stared at me from his cheek, and it looked like one of the animals had a good chew on it. The basket fell from my hand and hit the ground. Might as well have been a bomb going off.
I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed. Over the ringing in my ears, I heard footsteps running into the barn. My mom grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me and wailing at me to tell her what happened. What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?! I don’t know what happened.
“Look at ya, Newt. You’re sweating like a pig.”
The smell was gone, but I was still lying on the floor. A pair of bare feet stood right in front of me, toenails painted blue emerald. I rolled over, ready to attack with little more than infant kicks, but instead, I looked right into the eyes of a ghost.
“Pigs don’t sweat, you know,” I told him.
He crouched down to my level and smiled.
“Yeah, and you got about as much sense as one. Hell, you ain’t got the sense that God gave a goose. Out there scrubbing like you’re trying to put Lady Macbeth out of a job, and you ran off the only real friend you got in this place.”
It wasn’t surprising that all that mold has just been another one of the Rot’s tricks. Maybe this was too, but fuck, I didn’t care. I was buying like a squirrel in a nut factory.
“After everything that’s happened, you’re really just gonna stand here and bully me, huh?”
His hand ruffled through my hair, and my chest ached more than it already was.
“Shaw, kid. I’m messing with you. A little, at least. You’re my whole world, but you have to listen to what I’m telling you. You can’t do this alone. You’re as strong as an ox and twice as mean when you wanna be, but this is growing beyond that. This is something you can’t handle on your lonesome, and I know you’re thinking right now ‘fuck you, I can take care of myself,’ but deep down, you know I’m right.”
He always knew me so well, and I guess that was by design.
“Well, what about Aunt Jean—“
He crossed his tree trunk arms and rolled his eyes.
“Aunt Jean is a sneeze away from a pile of dust and a set of dentures. And you and I both know that I can’t stick around. As soon as you get your feet out under your brain, I’ll be gone.”
I looked away, staring at kitchen chairs and a floor that desperately needed to be mopped. He was right, and I kinda hated it. He sat down next to me and pressed something in my hand. It was cold and square, and I could feel a brand-new crack running through it.
“You know I only give you shit because I love you, Newt. I love you more than anyone ever loved anything in this life. Always remember that. And for Pete’s sake and the dog’s too, call that boy. You’re right, he’s in danger, but you’d both be better off being in danger together.”
I held the phone in front of my face. A long, hairline crack ran in between me and the other person on the lock screen photo, laughing at something I didn’t remember. My mom took that picture.
I dialed Dawson’s number and hovered my finger over the call button.
I glanced back up at him one more time.
“Hey. Hey, Diesel, wait.”
“Yeah, Newport?”
I swallowed around the golf ball lump in my throat.
“Don’t go.”
I expected him to tell me again that he had to, but instead, he simply said, “I won’t.” And it was the most beautiful lie I’d ever heard.
The phone didn’t get a chance to ring more than once before the front door burst open. I looked up, and he was gone. Like he’d never actually been there in the first place. The events of the last few minutes grew filmy in my brain as Dawson charged inside.
“Newport?! Are you okay?! Wait, that’s a dumb question.”
I shifted enough to catch his gaze and fuck, my chest was really hurting. His face was red, and his hair was… filled with straw?
“Not really. How did you get here that fast? Did you carjack a scarecrow?”
“Um… not exactly, no.”
It was then that I noticed the look on his face. He looked incredibly guilty and smelled like horse— no, he smelled like barn.
“Have you… have you been staying in my fucking barn?!”
Dawson scratched the back of his head but said nothing.
“You have, haven’t you?! You never actually left!”
Dawson threw his hands up, like he was the one who got to be exasperated here.
“I was worried about you! I knew you wanted space, but I was terrified that if I left completely, that thing would take advantage of you being alone. Also, Aunt Jean got our backs last time, so I figured it was my turn to take care of the animals. You didn’t even notice when I drove my truck right back up the road, Newport. You wouldn’t eat. You wouldn’t sleep. Something was seriously wrong. I… I heard you screaming, so I ran out here, but then it stopped. I wanted to wait until you called me. It sounded… like you were busy.”
If Dawson had looked in and seen anything, he didn’t mention it. I appreciated that.
I opened my mouth, about to give him a light chewing out, but I didn’t get that far. All that came out was a pained groan as my chest and sides yelled at me with the fury of a thousand suns.
Just as I pulled off my shirt and realized the horrible error I’d made, the absolute last person I wanted to see right at that moment came down the stairs. I’d never seen Aunt Jean look so angry. She didn’t say a word but instead pointed a bony finger at the binder I’d been wearing for… way too long, let’s put it that way. Then she pointed upstairs, and I knew there was no room for argument.
“She’s right… you haven’t taken that off since you got corn-teleported, have you?”
I shook my head and started a mental list of all the fucked up things that could be happening inside of my ribcage right now. Dawson came over and lifted me to my feet.
“I’d say you go shower, and I’ll get all the food in, but I don’t think you’re gonna make it up there without me. We’ll get it inside after.”
I knew if I argued, Aunt Jean would skin me alive, so I leaned on Dawson as he helped me upstairs. Once we got into the bathroom, I felt confident enough to stand on my own, so I left the bathroom door open as Dawson sat against the opposite wall in the hallway. All I could see of him was his hand placed firmly on the floor just in view from the doorway, and even that small reminder of his presence reassured me.
“Well, might as well get this over with.”
As I gingerly took the binder off, I could already see and feel the damage: a rainbow of bruises ran around my ribcage and collarbone, and broken skin in a few places. Breathing still hurt, but I was reasonably sure all my ribs were intact.
“How bad is it? Scale of one to ten?”
“Oh, I don’t know, probably somewhere between one and ten? Definitely a number—“
“Newport.”
I sighed and started cleaning out the cuts. At the rate things were going, I was going to have to go rob an urgent care.
“It’s not great, but I’ll live. I’ve been through just so much worse in the past week. This is nothing.”
Dawson drummed his fingers against the floor. Not being able to keep his hands still was a telltale sign that he was nervous. As I glanced in the mirror, I swore I saw something… moving? It looked like a vein was bulging out on the side of my sunburnt neck, but that didn’t seem right. I knew high blood pressure and I were on a first-name basis, but this was ridiculous.
“You say that like you’re trying for the high score.”
“I’m not, but if I die, make sure they put ‘winner’ on my tombstone.”
Dawson snorted and said something back, which I’m sure was just as witty, like, ‘I’m going to put loser on there, and you won’t be around to stop me,’ but I didn’t hear it. I was focused on the bulge in my skin that was moving up my jaw and onto my face. My sinuses began to ache and my eyes watered. As it reached my cheek, my right nostril began to stretch. Something long and black slid out my nose, stretching it to the size of a silver dollar. The pain was excruciating, and I could feel my sinus cavity cracking with the pressure.
As soon as I realized it was that same water moccasin from before, I froze on instinct. I stood stone still while it slithered around my neck and around my face, just like when I was little and a bumblebee would land on me. The snake stopped just above my temple and made eye contact with me. Then, it opened its mouth, and unlike last time, it bared a perfectly ordinary set of fangs at me.
When it sank those fangs into the soft flesh of my right eye, I felt it burst like a water balloon. I stumbled back and yelped. For a moment, I felt the sensation of blood running through my fingers as I grabbed at the socket.
“Fuck! Literally get out of my head, you dick!”
Dawson peeked into the bathroom, looking alarmed, and I just clutched at my eye. It had only hurt for a second, but the memory of the pain was fresh and natural. My nose was also back to its original bruised-but-unbroken state. The Rot hadn’t caused any lasting damage for a while. Maybe with the talisman I found hung back up outside, it couldn’t do more than get into our minds.
“What did you see?”
I swallowed and lowered my hand. My eye was a little swollen, but not poisoned swollen.
“Nose snake.”
Dawson nodded, like that needed no further explanation.
“Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. I mean, it was, but it also wasn’t. It’s all tricks.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out for sure if my eye falls out.”
I pulled off the overalls covered with days worth of bleach stains and stepped into the shower. It soothed my bruises, and I’d never been happier to be standing under ice-cold water.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, dude. You’d look great with an eye patch anyway.”
The minutes melted by into an indiscernible mush, but this time, for all the right reasons. I let the water rinse all the nagging thoughts away until my brain was like an empty tin can rattling down a dirt road.
“Hey, Newport? Can we uh… talk for a second?”
For some reason, Dawson chose to have our most important conversations while I was in the shower. Surprisingly, it was the place that got the best cell reception, and we’d had the obligatory ‘how do you feel about trans people’ conversation while he was still recovering from his broken wrist. If you’ve been paying attention this far, I’m sure you can venture a guess as to how he responded.
We both knew I was hard of hearing from years of frolicking with tractors, but he took the ‘huh’ and ‘what did you say’ like a champ. Though it was one of the million and one little things about him that mildly annoyed me, it was much better than the knocks on the floor and whispers from the shower head I used to endure, like my bathroom was haunted by the ghosts of showers past.
“Yeah? What is it?”
He hesitated a little, and I could hear the unsure squeak of his boot on the floor. I was worried I was in for a soft lecture about any number of things I’d been doing wrong, but as usual, Dawson surprised me.
“I’m really sorry for camping out in your barn like that. I know it was kinda creepy.”
I wasn’t actually that mad at him. Sure, I was irritated that he hadn’t listened to me, but a small part of me was almost glad he’d been there the whole time.
“You and I both know that my definition of creepy is way out of whack, and you camping out in my barn barely even charts. Besides… I understand why you did it. Doesn’t annoy me any less, but I get it.”
He breathed a loud sigh of relief, and it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, too.
“Besides,” I added, “there’s no one I’d rather have squatting in my hayloft. Except maybe Markiplier, but you and I both know that’s never happening.”
Dawson scoffed.
“As if I’m EVER doing that again, man. Your horse farts like a nuclear reactor. I’m lucky my nose didn’t boil right off my face, and I grew up around sheep.”
That was one hell of a point, and it made me laugh so hard that I got water up my nose, which made us both laugh even more. It felt so good to laugh; it was a productive way to air out some of the hysteria that was still hanging around. After somewhat getting it together, Dawson went to grab me something to wear.
If I hadn’t known it before then, I knew it now. I’d have more luck getting rid of a leech with separation anxiety than ever shaking Dawson. I couldn’t make myself be anything but happy about it.
After giving me the loose tank top and overalls a size too big that Aunt Jean practically forced on him, we went downstairs. All the food had been moved inside and, hell, even put away, and I was gonna give Aunt Jean a good kick in the granny panties for doing all that for us.
“You need to eat. I’m cooking, don’t argue with me.”
I walked across the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was two whole weights and a goat on top of it all off my back to see it full again.
“You can, but I’m helping. That’s what my mom and I always did when we were at odds. She’d get me to help her make bread. I know we’re not really at odds anymore, but I’m still gonna help.”
“You know, we still could be at odds if you want. We can start with the monstrous way you eat citrus. My mama always says we should never waste anything, but god, a man has limits!”
I snatched an orange out of the fridge and took a big bite out of it.
“I’d keep my mouth shut. Or I might have to see how you’d taste with the peel. Probably like rotten apples and sheep’s wool.”
Dawson rolled his eyes and reached over me, grabbing a piece of meat wrapped in paper and butcher twine.
“I’d make you fry bread, but you have to wait and have my mama’s. I still can’t make it quite as good as she does. Every day, she asks me when you’re going to come over.”
I grabbed the vegetables and started cutting. It didn’t seem like we were really following a recipe; like most things, I was winging it.
“If we survive whatever this is, I’ll come over, even if it’s just for dinner. I promise.”
After cooking in comfortable silence, we sat down together, and our bowls were filled with mutton and stewed vegetables. I ate like a sickly, starved Victorian child, but halfway through my last mouthful, I realized Dawson was staring at me. There was something in his eyes, something I couldn’t place. I wanted to tell him to take a picture, it would last longer, but instead, I said something much different.
“I’m sorry for pointing a gun at you. And for a lot of things, really. I know I’ve been a shitty friend more than once.”
Dawson laughed softly. I’d never heard him laugh like that before.
“Yeah, remember when you puked on me after eating that rotten apple?”
I crossed my arms and looked away, embarrassed despite myself.
“Look, I had to do it, okay? It was for the plot.”
“Sure you did. You’re lucky you didn’t get botulism poisoning.”
I looked back at him and lowered my arms. He was smiling ear-to-ear, that strange look in his eyes and flush in his cheeks back in full force.
“But seriously. I’m sorry. I just want you to know that… I appreciate you being here. I really, really do. Even if I don’t act like it sometimes. Even if I act like the world’s biggest asshole most of the time. I’m not used to having friends. I’m bad at this.”
“You’re not bad at anything.”
He said it so softly I barely heard it. The smile fell from his face, but not in an unpleasant way. His eyes grew a size.
“I… I really appreciate having you here, too, Newport. You’re not a bad friend. You’re a really great friend, actually. My only friend.”
He reached over and put his hand on mine. My intrusive thoughts had always told me Dawson only stuck around out of pity or some sense of obligation. But right then, I knew for sure that none of it was true. Dawson needed me, and as much as he did, I needed him twice over. He’d brought back my loneliness, but in the same breath, he’d also cured it. Who could ask for more than that?
I think he had something else to say. But I’ll never know because the air filled with low, sickly gurgles as patches of black spread up from the leg of the table and onto the top. I jumped up, throwing myself in front of him, and the Rot was upon us.

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Hello! This might be a bit nonsensical, but please bear with me. I've been looking for this graphic novel for literal years (I remember reading the novel when a was a mere child), but all my searches haven fallen flat. I remember checking this graphic novel out from my school's Scholastic book fair (maybe around 2011-2013?) and absolutely loving it. But, as time works as it usually does, I lost it over the years and have since moved away from my childhood home (many years later) so I no longer have access to find it in person.
What I distinctively remember was that the graphic novel was fully colored and the art style was semi-realistic. The setting was set in this dystopian world where monsters and humans coexisted, however they still had negative sentiments towards each other (almost like they were close to going at war(?)). The main character has long red hair (I think it was significant in the story, don't remember if it was) and she lived in these slums. I would say where she lived was like if Plitover, from Arcane, had a poor side that wasn't Zaun lol. There was a part in the novel where this very important sports event was being held and, how I would describe one of the sport being, was like a bit of lacrosse but it was up in the air and they had to race the ball to the end(?) goal. They also could harm each-other with their rackets as long as they didn't drop the ball or they'd get disqualified. I'm pretty sure it was a human/nonwinged sport because they were wearing/given these mechanical wings so they could be up in the air. In the story, the event was looked at as being sorta like the Olympics. like it was seen as being SUPER important, there were camera people and everything. And the main character was partaking in it because she's, like, poor or something and wanted to win so she could earn the cash prize to help her family (I think her parent's died and she lived with her grandparent or was taken in by someone.) I'm pretty sure she was well versed in the game and was known for being the best player?? But something happens that causes her to lose and she then gets forced into the city where the monster's lived (I would describe it being an under city like Zaun ) and was sent to live in a castle(or mansion) where these wealthy monsters lived or something?? I remember her sitting at this long, grand, table and eating with some monster-like people and her ridiculing the way they ate, their food, and the way they looked. However, what I vividly remember was her trying to escape and being chased by their gigantic-white furred-guard cat and then later befriending said cat. I also think she had a love interest of sorts. I'm pretty sure he was monster like and had some sort of light hair?? I really wish I could remember character names and places, but all I can remember is in fragments and faces. Towards the end of the novel, humans and monsters went into war and she, somehow, became apart of it(??) (I know, whiplash) and the people/creatures she met along her journey helps as well?? I really don't know. I hope someone out there knows what I'm talking about and lends me a shoulder because I've been DYING to read this graphic novel again. :(

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Looking for the perfect way to celebrate the amazing dads in your life this Father's Day? Whether it's your own dad, your partner, or a father figure, this is the day to show them just how much they mean to you. Here are some unique and heartfelt ideas to make this Father's Day unforgettable!

1. Plan an Adventure Day

If your dad loves the great outdoors, why not plan an adventure? Whether it's hiking, fishing, or a day trip to a nearby national park, spending quality time in nature can be both relaxing and exciting. Pack a picnic with his favorite snacks, and don't forget the camera to capture those memorable moments.

1. Cook a Special Meal

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so why not whip up a feast fit for a king? Whether it's breakfast in bed, a BBQ lunch, or a fancy dinner, cooking his favorite dishes shows effort and love. Pro tip: involve the kids in the cooking process for some extra fun and bonding.

1. DIY Gifts and Cards

Handmade gifts and cards can be incredibly meaningful. Get crafty with personalized photo albums, custom mugs, or a scrapbook filled with memories. It's a great way to show thoughtfulness and creativity, and these keepsakes will be cherished for years to come.

1. Host a Movie Marathon

Set up a cozy movie marathon with all of his favorite films. Whether he's into action, comedy, or classic cinema, create a movie list, gather some snacks, and make it a chill day at home. Bonus points if you set up an outdoor movie screening in the backyard!

1. Experience Something New Together

Try something neither of you has done before. It could be a helicopter ride, a cooking class, paddleboarding, or even an escape room. Shared experiences are a great way to bond and create new memories together.

1. Personalized Father's Day Coupons

Create a booklet of personalized coupons that he can redeem throughout the year. Ideas include a homemade dinner, a day without chores, a car wash, or a game night of his choice. It's a fun and creative way to give him the gift of experiences and quality time.

1. Sports Day Fun

If he's a sports enthusiast, organize a day filled with his favorite sports activities. This could be a round of golf, a game of tennis, or even a mini-tournament with the family in the backyard. If he prefers to watch, grab some tickets to a local game or set up a sports-themed day at home.

1. Relax and Pamper

Sometimes the best gift is a day of relaxation. Book him a spa day, a massage, or simply create a serene environment at home where he can unwind. A good book, a warm bath, and some quiet time can do wonders.
What are your plans for Father’s Day 2024? Share your ideas and let’s inspire each other to make this year’s celebration the best one yet!

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Hi guys!
So I'm putting together my first 5 airbnb listings and I'm shopping for decoratives.
I plan to have vintage appliances featured in my listing photos for aesthetic reasons (things like old typewriter, TV, radios, all of which are not functional of course).
But because they cost too much for me to buy 5 of each to put in all 5 listings, I'm thinking I'll just have functional items (throw blankets, rugs, lamps) and some decorative books within the rooms.
My question is does this violate any rule as a host? And how would you feel about this as a guest?
(I plan to put a disclaimer under the listings that the items won't be there but could be available if the guests request them for photoshooting or something like that)
Thank you!

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Hi guys Me and my family had to go through a very weird incident. So my brother 29 met a girl 28 in an Arab country. That girl belongs to our religion and also is from the same place our family belongs to. We currently stay in Mumbai. According to my brother he met her online. And only after 2-3 weeks of meeting that girl asked him to introduce her to my mother. My brother did introduce us. We were extremely happy. We told my brother to take things slow because we don't know anything about her family. In the meantime my mother asked for her details like photos of her family etc. She never gave any saying that she doesn't keep their photos in her phone because if she sees their pics she starts missing them badly. We litreally saw a red flag there. After this one fine day her mother contacts my mother. And the first sentence she says is, where is your son, give him the phone I want to talk to him. Mind you she knows where my brother is where he met her daughter. They had a conversation and the call ended. Next day her mother calls, and starts shouting on my mother. Why is your son meeting my daughter, their marriage isn't fixed yet. Her maternal uncle's stay in that country they will not leave your son. She started talking shit about my brother and my mother who has never in her life fought with anyone was listening and calmed her down. The girl's mother suddenly calmed down and started spilling honey out of her mouth. Everything was extremely weird for us Then after a week that girl tells my mother that she wants to get engaged to my brother. My mother replied saying whatever you both feel is right we have no problem in it. Then we again asked her for her family details which she never gave. And in the meantime took all our details from my brother. Everything about us. And shared all of it with her family. our photos everything
Both my bother and the girl they had their birthdays in the same month. So they met each other gave gifts. She bought a cake for him, he didn't take a cake, rather treated her with dinner. We received a call next day from her mother But it was her brother on the call. He being a 21/22 year old was extremely rude. He started saying to my mother that why did your son force my sister to change the dress in washroom. My mother calmly replied " your sister willing changed it because she wanted to check if the dress fits her. And they called us after that. He then calmed down Then again said your son didn't even bring a cake. Then my mother added saying that my son also dropped your sister home and then went to his place. And the reply that he gave was so idiotic He said " is my sister a baby, that he dropped her home". We were shocked by this statement.
Fast forward to last week. As we belong to same native place. My parents wanted to meet her parents because she was willing to get engaged this year only. So it was needed to meet the family. The girl agreed to it, gave the address that to not exact but some landmark type and said she won't share any pics we can directly meet them face to face. My parents agreed, booked the ticket. And suddenly one day that girl tells my brother, to let my parents know that her father is not okay with us going at their place if they are not getting married this year, and that her father is extremely strict so please cancel everything. And that she is not very sure, she will step back if things don't feel right.
It then looked like a big red flag to us. My mother directly called her mother and said that we have booked the tickets and will be reaching on 10th. Her mother was extremely sweet on the call, welcomed us, suggested that they should get engaged in July and married in December.
Then after 2 days the daughter calls and tells to not come. Her mother then calls us day before the date of departure that was to happen but got cancelled. And asked for our journey status. My mother told her that when her daughter said no to meeting we cancelled the tickets. That night my brother called, we told him that he mother had called and asked regarding our reaching etc. My brother then Ig asked the girl, why did her mother called, when she already knows everything. I feel then the girl confronted her mother. Next day her mother called my mother and started abusing in our mother tongue and completely disagreed saying that she did not ask any such thing. We had recorded the call. After sometime they called on my number because my mother blocked her . I was travelling that time and that I already knew the shit people they were I told them that I had no idea about any of this. I then reached home and got to know about everything that happened. I then called her back and confronted her and asked if they don't have manners and that they were the one starting everything and they are the one behaving like idiots and cut the call.
The girls brother then send some7-8 recordings which I casually ignored saying I am not interested.
He then blocked me, I heard those recordings at night.
They way he spoke was cheap, showed their cheap mentality. The things he said were I will come there and slap you won't see if you are a girl. Your entire family is mad and mental you need mental hospital. Aag lag jaaye tumhe tumhare pure pariwaar ko We know tum kaha se bhaag ke aaye ho tumhara kya story hai Tere bhai ke 3 ex haina tu 5 aadmi ke sath rahi hogi And then added some gaalis.
I am extremely grateful to God that he saved us from this shit hole.
But all this was extremely weird and shocking. We can't digest it still. Feels as if they never wanted the girl to get married and tried to show us in the bad light.

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