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Longtime Canon owner and fan, I had recently been lurking for a nice 5D III body. After some scouring, I couldn't believe what I had stumbled upon. Long story, short - I bought one with less than 10 on its shutter count! It's nicely kept along with a Sigma 24-70mm lens. All of this was a couple hundred than market value. I truly wasn't expecting that such a nice body existed but here I am. As I get older, I appreciate using gear with less fortitude of keeping it nice and shiny. I really just wanted a semi decent body that already had some battle scars so I wouldn't wince while in my own care. Looking at other marketplaces, I could potentially sell this for 40% more than what I paid. Money is not the issue, moreso just having something "too" nice while being out and about. What would you do? Am I overthinking this? (I primarily shoot street, landscapes, nature). This camera would only be used for local excursions.

Okay, so I know a lot of what I'm about to say is all circumstantial and based on needs and wants but just a general feel may help.
Myself and my partner agreed a price on a house we want to purchase start of Feb this year, love it, looked at thousands of listings and none really made us want to move except this. Agreed a sale at £220,000 for our current property about a week after listing. We had it valued for help to buy repayment purposes at £225,000, and two identical properties on our street sold for £228,000 and £220,000 in the last 6 months. I say identical, but they have smaller gardens, our is south facing with decking fitted and extra patio space, just identical in that they are 5 year old 'new builds' of the same style.
Now the problems, one month later buyer pulls out. Re-list, sold a week later again at £217,000, collapses again this time due to overseas deposit issues/proof of funds. Interest has died a little but we had an offer on the table best and final of £208,000. This just about gives us the funds required to complete our purchase, but in light of valuation and recent sales seems way undervalued?
I was slightly leaning to still accept given my chain is at risk of collapsing (House we're trying to buy has been re-listed by EA), but my partner less so and we decided to reject.
I have read quite a few threads about no such thing as the correct value and I agree, but in my shoes would you accept £208k? Or is it a silly financial decision given very recent sales, and I'm only considering it because of the chain pressure giving me a very short time to sell?
Thanks!

Link to AO3
chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
The Academy looked normal enough from the distance but blew Gentry’s mind when she finally entered it. First of all, the way in lay through a massive winter garden full of the most luxurious botanical collection she’s ever seen. Not only that, but it seemed to be arranged in a way that offered spaces for hanging out as well as paths in and out. Here and there, G noticed little nooks with people’s voices coming from them and small murmuring streams gleamed in the sun that blazed through the transparent walls and roof. This place looked magical and invited to stay, enjoy the refreshing coolness and peace of mind. But Gentry had a good enough rest in her communal room the night before and was eager to start working on her first assignment that the System had spat out with a congratulating letter. Figuring out the controls of her new wristcomm was simple enough.
DEAR GENTRY!
WE ARE DELIGHTED TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU ARE THE FIRST CONTESTANT TO CLEAR ALL CHALLENGES AND OBTAIN THE STATUS OF AN ASHTAPADAN NEWCOMER! YOUR MEDICAL DATA HAS BEEN ANALYSED AND FOUND ACCEPTABLE.
IN THE ATTACHMENT TO THIS LETTER YOU WILL FIND A LIST OF RULES, RECOMMENDATIONS AND IDEAS THAT WILL DEFINITELY HELP YOU IN THE FIRST WEEKS IN OUR BEAUTIFUL CITY BUT WE STRONGLY RECOMMEND FINDING A BUDDY THAT WOULD BE YOUR MAIN GUIDE AND POTENTIALLY A NEW GREAT FRIEND! IT CAN BE ANY CITIZEN OR A MORE EXPERIENCED NEWCOMER.
YOUR CURRENT POINTS: 0
WHY NOT START EARNING SOME WITH YOUR FIRST ASSIGNMENT?
START ANY BEGINNER COURSE AT THE ACADEMY AND KEEP YOUR ATTENDANCE RATE OVER 80% — WORTH 50 POINTS
(OPTIONAL) FIND SOMEBODY WHO IS WILLING TO BECOME YOUR BUDDY — WORTH 20 POINTS
Without stopping to check if the vending machines offered anything good, G made her way through the dreamy garden and entered the inner yard that looked just like everything here: nothing too eye-catching at first glance but secrets hidden everywhere.
One thing she had already noticed was that most of the people had another piece of technology on their bodies besides the comm on their wrists: a sort of extendable visor that some of them kept engaged at all times. Those who were focused on the screen had a comical look on their faces, a thousand-mile stare, eyes wide even as they were talking to each other or going about their business. It was unclear yet why they would engage the screen for so long though. No one needed this much time to read a notification or check a map.
Take a group of young students by the fountain, for example. They seemed deep in conversation with each other yet their pupils didn’t focus on the person in front, but on the translucent screen over the top part of their faces. Was it some kind of virtual reality helmet?
If so, G needed one, too.
Perhaps she’d be able to make new friends this way.
There was something else that caught Gentry’s eye. Despite her initial disappointment about the severe lack of male hotness in the streets, people of both sexes seemed to really care about their appearance. Even those who probably weren’t naturally stunning were very interesting to look at not least because of the crazy fashion sense everyone here had. Never before had G seen so much variety in what everyone wore: countless variations on different national garments, some looking very traditional, like something one could see in a theatre, some — futuristic uniforms straight out of a sci-fi movie. It didn’t seem like anyone was concerned with gender norms here, too. At least in when it came to the outfits.
G hoped she didn’t look like a creepy stalker when her gaze lingered on a pair of very nicely shaped legs stretching from underneath a plaid skirt that belonged to a young man in the group sat by the edge of the water. A pair of snow-white knee-highs, flat loafers and neat raven hair with some blue streaks completed the image. His clothes fit him very well and weren’t inappropriate in the least: something an old money university student would wear.
A female student that is.
And he wasn’t alone. Here and there, among more conventionally dressed people, there were people wearing all sorts of things: a crazy mix of goth-like apparel but barefoot, men and women with heads covered with scarves, people in strange jewelery that looked like it weighed a ton and so on. Most importantly, no one seemed to care what the others looked like.
Was it paradise? Looks like the demo didn’t lie: it was heaven on earth.
The young man in the middle of the student gaggle caught her staring after all. With a dazzling smile, he waved in her direction as if they were great friends, and G waved back, face heating, hoping there wasn’t anyone behind her this tease was actually waving at. Thank god his shoes weren’t heeled, otherwise she would definitely have a heart attack right here, in the middle of the common area, on her first day.
Did he notice her ogling his legs? Judging by the giggles of his friend's entourage, they all did. The young flirt covered his mouth, eyes wide in mock indignation and pulled his knees in, as if hiding them from the improper attention, getting even more laughter from the rest of the company. G averted her eyes and tried to calm her breathing as she was on her way through the yard again, but before they all disappeared from her field of view, she noticed the coquette stretch his legs again and fall back on a friend of his, embracing the lucky man’s neck in an affectionate gesture, already forgetting G existed.
There was no way she wasn’t going to make some pretty boy do the same for her. Forget the assignment, put that in the list of her top priorities!
At first, Gentry was lost when she failed to find any kind of class schedule and there was no one to ask at the reception desk.
Why have a reception desk if nobody’s on duty?
Soon, however, it occurred to her that there was no schedule: each room within the wide marble corridors had a small display with a handwritten message scribbled on it.
Bachata for beginners
Product engineering (Tuesday class cancelled)
Colloidal chemistry (revision today)
None of these were the Communications course that Jey was talking about, but the variety definitely made G’s eyebrows go up.
Was she just supposed to barge into any class and sign up? Did she have to sign up later if she liked the subject? Was it ok to choose any?
After some wandering around, too scared to just walk in uninvited or ask others for directions, she finally stumbled across the door saying:
Communication & decision making course (Newcomers welcome)
With the desks arranged in a horseshoe and the people of various ages that were also apparently Newcomers, it all seemed comfortably casual. Everyone was chatting as she walked in, paying G no mind so she busied herself with the wristcomm that dinged at exactly the right time to save her the embarrassment of looking for a desk.
Would you like to enroll in this course? Scroll down to read the description.
Was this damn thing a spying device? Did it just know which room she was in? Jey didn’t joke when she said the little thing was going to be her primary aid!
“Are you looking for somewhere to sit?” called a young red-haired woman at one of the paired desks. “Here, this one is free.” She had the auglasses on, like everyone else, but they were off, showing her lively face and a pair of sharp green eyes.
“Thanks,” G said, gratefully taking the offer. “I’m new here, don’t know how things work yet.”
“It’s alright, the course is very engaging, you’ll love it.” — the woman held out a hand — “I’m Sereen, what’s your name?”
G shook the warm palm. “It’s Gentry. And by new I mean I’m new to Ashtapada, not just the course. Literally arrived yesterday.”
“Really?” — S looked surprised — “Everything must be very confusing!”
“You have no idea,” G smiled. “I’m glad someone understands. Everyone’s friendly but acts as if giant mechanical dogs in the streets and a moss garden in the lobby are the most normal things ever.”
“Don’t worry, I was just like you when I first arrived, you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Hope so! Is that the lecturer?”
“Shhh...”
Just like everything else in Ashtapada, the lecture started out normal enough only to unfold into something completely alien to how things were normally done.
Apparently, the Communications course involved learning rationality, debating, logic, etiquette and god knew what else. It was supposed to give the future citizens tools to, well, communicate. G was given a booklet with some ground rules for beginners that included entries that sounded like something Sun Tzu would say if he studied debating instead of warcraft.
“The purpose of any argument is not to win it and not to change the other disputant’s mind. It’s to find the truth.”
“Always argue in good faith.”
“Don’t attack your opponent.”
“If attacked, dismiss the attack as if it didn’t happen.”
Well, hopefully, it only meant verbal attacks! G knew too well that when it came to physical violence, it was hard to ignore it.
Most of the rules looked straightforward enough, some were confusing.
“Seek challenge to your convictions. Avoid echo chambers.”
“Don’t seek being right.”
“Be mindful of your audience including yourself.”
“Avoid “Empty arguments” that don’t bring everyone closer to the goal of finding the truth.”
The lecturer, a willowy man of about sixty that drowned in his tweed jacket, started the class with a bit of small talk with the regulars after distributing the booklets to all first-timers. He made sure to give it to G face down so that his photo under the “About the author” title didn’t go unnoticed. He also made most of the “talk” part himself.
“I never took part in a debate,” G told Sereen, who was patiently waiting for the class to begin. “And never seen anything like these rules. Is it actually useful?”
“Oh, believe me, professor Poe will be ecstatic to talk to you about them. He can’t not start discussing his subject at the slightest provocation. Look.” — she raised her hand — “Professor, how was your weekend?”
The man wearily smiled. “That might seem like a meaningless question, Sereen, but it’s actually very much related to the topic we are going to cover today.”
“See?” — S raised her eyebrows with a suppressed smile. G giggled. This promised to be interesting.
“Our friend Sereen is a very polite person, isn’t she?” — Poe smiled at the class but his eyes glided over everyone’s faces, gaze turned inwards like he was reading an invisible text written on the walls. “But as kind as she is, I don’t think she’s actually interested in how my weekend went. Small talk is just a social custom we engage in to strengthen our social relations. Why don’t we just start a day by saying “Hi! I value our relationship and would like to fulfill my societal role!” to everyone we know? I would definitely prefer THAT over the small talk! He-he!”
The audience laughed politely. The guy seemed alright.
“However, just as we use different tools to fulfill this role in different contexts, so can the context of a logical problem steer our thinking towards a rational, that is, right, and an irrational, that is, wrong, answer.”
“Well, that’s not a given,” Gentry mumbled under her breath but it went unnoticed by S, who was already immersed in the lecture.
“Consider the famous René Descartes’s quote "Cogito, ergo sum". Who can translate it from Latin?” — the board behind the thin, almost transparent man glowed, displaying the words.
“Is it really a Beginner’s course?” G asked Sereen in a low voice but her companion was already raising her hand, together with a dozen other students.
“I think, therefore I am,” she said after a curt nod of the lecturer’s permission.
“Very good,” he continued, pleased. “I taught you well. Those of you who attend my lectures regularly are familiar with the notion of solipsism, which states that the only thing we can be sure about is our own thoughts.”
Gentry looked at S with raised eyebrows.
If this is an introductory course, what was the advanced like?
Sereen didn’t seem to perplexed. She was fully following the thread.
“However,” professor Poe said. “I am going to challenge that notion by demonstrating that we can’t trust our own mind when it comes to perceiving reality.”
He looked at the audience with a quizzical eye, and pointed at Gentry with a long bony finger “You, new girl. I want you to close your eyes.”
Why her?
Gentry was only happy to hide behind her eyelids. No doubt the whole room was now staring at her.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard the old man’s voice, “Who was sitting beside you before you closed your eyes?”
“My new friend Sereen,” G answered and heard a little gasp of appreciation from the woman.
“So you know she existed as long as you two were whispering behind my back. However, now that you can’t see or hear her. How do you know she exists?”
“Well, I can reach with my hand and touch her,” Gentry said, demonstrating.
“Yes, this is what most people answer,” Poe said. “You can open your eyes now. But let me ask you this: how would you know it was her, an not some other person that took her place?”
Gentry’s intuition was right: everyone was staring, as if waiting for her answer.
“Well, I suppose— ”
“Hush, it was a rhetorical question,” the professor cut her off. “The correct answer is that you can’t know that. We think we can trust our senses or at least our thoughts, but this is also false. Everyone, look out of the window.”
Everyone did.
The day was as fine as Gentry was annoyed.
What did this pops think of himself?
“I’d ask what you see, but I already know the answer,” he went on. “All of you would say “the sky”. And all of you would be wrong, because sky doesn’t exist. We only see the endless emptiness of the outer space, but perceive it as a blue dome. It’s an illusion, a phantom, born out of our collective unconscious.”
Sereen whispered, lost in the lecture, “Ah, yes, Carl Jung.”
What?
Was it supposed to be obvious?
“But listen to this,” he continued, voice booming like a demiurge’s in the completely silent room. “Listen to this. How many words is it? Listentothis. Our common sense says it’s three words while in reality it’s just a string of sounds I an producing with my mouth. I am literally making you hallucinate the spaces between the words I’m saying. With knowing that our perception is so flawed, how can we know that we even know how to think?”
“I’m sorry, professor, I disagr...” G started but got struck down by his serrated gaze.
“I’ll invite questions at the end, young miss,” he chopped out.
Sereen’s eyes were sympathetic. It looked like most if not all of professor Poe’s students had learned not to interrupt him.
He went on, “Anyway, the fact that you even understand what I am saying is in itself incredible and shouldn’t be possible.”
“But it IS possible, right?” G whispered to Sereen. “I mean, aren’t we understanding this as he speaks?”
“PLEASE refrain from talking unless asked!” professor Poe roared.
Impressive lung capacity for such a frail human being!
G begrudgingly did as she was told. The guy seemed to be enjoying this power trip a bit too much to her taste.
“Now, since most of you,” he put some emphasis on the word to shut up another pair of whispering students. “Most of you think you comprehend my words, you must know that there is a way to tell that something is real, even though we can’t rely on our senses for perception. I’m giving you a minute to discuss with your partners what it might be.”
G considered it. She and Sereen exchanged equally confused glances.
Like a dutiful student, S started summarising Poe’s arguments but Gentry listened with only half an ear. She felt that behind all this over-thinking was a clear and simple answer.
She watched the professor walk along the aisles, tuning into one or another conversation before leaving each with a smug head shake of disapproval.
What was there to think about? Even if they didn’t see the world precisely as it was, something was definitely real, right? The chair she felt under her buttocks, the air around, the low murmur of the students. The annoying professor that… looked a little too translucent.
Gentry waited for the man to approach their desks and tune into Sereen’s musings. As he came so near they could reach out and touch him, Gentry did just that.
To her utter shock, her hand went through the old jacket and sent a wave of static over the professor’s figure, his whole form glitching and flickering.
Professor Poe was a hologram!
Unable to help herself, Gentry said, “No wonder you don’t think anything is real, Professor, you are hardly real yourself!”
The whole roomful of people stared, transfixed, at the surreal scene of a student’s arm disappearing into the teacher’s abdomen.
Gentry looked back at Sereen in search of support.
Was it laughter in her eyes?
Poe’s blood drained from his face, the mouth slacked open, twitching as if trying to form some words, but none came out.
Sereen chimed in, “You never told us you were a simulation, Professor.”
“Out!” Poe gritted lowly so that no one really heard him.
“I’m sorry?” G asked, innocently.
“Out of my class!” he exploded, jumping out of Gentry’s reach with an enraged grimace. “I am as real as you are!”
G stood up and looked at her hand then back at Professor Poe.
How much rage could storm in those watery eyes?
Then, she winked at her new friend.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” she said.
Sereen looked lost for a second, her eyes darting pack and forth between Gentry and Poe. Then, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, as if she retreated into her own head, but when she resurfaced, she nodded with a mischievous smile.
Both young women left the room, the classmates’ sympathetic silence and Poe’s angry seething seeing them off.
***
“What a way to start my first day,” Gentry said. “My hands are still trembling a bit.”
She and S were calming their nerves in the green winter garden, the soothing sound of the little running streamlet at their feet a welcome distraction.
“Believe it or not, his course is actually quite useful,” Sereen laughed. “Who would have thought the old Poe is actually not human? I guess we never thought of poking him in the stomach before. This is going to be the talk of the Academy for the next month or so!”
“Is it? I feel bad now. I guess I’m not getting any points for attending this lecture, right?” — Gentry checked her wristcomm — “It says “zero progress” and something else… ad.. Honi… adhonim…”
Sereen laughed, “Yeah, you adhominem’ed good old Poe, no wonder you got zero credit!”
“What does it mean?”
“You’ve seen the rules of learning and discourse, right?” S said. “There are no-nos, things that aren’t allowed, especially when it comes to Rationality classes and the like. Ad Hominem means an attack on the speaker, not their argument. It isn’t exactly what you did, but I guess it’s the closest thing!”
“Ad Hominem, huh,” G said. “Well, I guess I deserve it then. Thanks for standing by me.”
If it wasn’t for Sereen, G wasn’t sure she would be going to return to the Academy any time soon!
“You just chose a wrong course as your first class, G,” — no doubt about that! — “But another lecturer who works here is much more open-minded and he also teaches Rationality. I think you’ll enjoy him more than our old Poe. His next class is in a couple of days. Wanna come?”
***
DEAR GENTRY!
CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING AN OPTIONAL ASSIGNMENT! 20 POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR STATUS COUNTER.

Okay this is in Oklahoma and a lot happened but to summarize basically I've been with this man-child for 3 years almost, I ended up breaking it off after work on Monday (mainly) because of all the issues he has but just blatantly refuses to fix. Immediately after having the discussion he flipped out, throwing things across the room and screaming at me to leave. I stayed at a friend's house that night with nothing but my bag and the clothes I had worn to work. The next day I wake up to a phone call from him where he told me not to bother going back to the apartment because he already let his mom go through all of my things. He said he told her I wanted to fight her (never said that) so she's now determined to kick my ass, and that all of her gang-banger friends now have the addresses of all my family and friends to hurt them as well (this man never remembered my phone number, no way in hell he knows anyone's address lmao but still). I have a witness to this conversation. I also was informed by one of my employees that he had come with his mother to my workplace looking for me, apparently he had been swerving through the parking lot and was acting aggressive and intoxicated. We called law enforcement out and my friend and I went back to the apartment to find it completely destroyed, multiple holes in the walls, and a lot of my furniture was torn apart across the floor, as well several paintings and art pieces that held quite a bit of sentimental value to me. I also found that my medication, makeup,some art supplies, and my medical marijuana paraphernalia has all been taken. His cat was standing on the balcony, I don't know how long she had been outside for. He was not home at the time thankfully, and we had cops standing by while I grabbed some of my things and cared for the animals. Several hours later I was at a friend's apartment on the other side of the complex after submitting the Emergency Protective order petition, id parked far down the road just in case he drove by and surprise surprise he did, I remember hearing the familiar sound of his truck before his mom knocked on the door, I was thrown in a closet to hide and dial 911 while my friend stood at the door talking to them, and thankfully he got them to leave before the police arrived. I can't imagine what might have happened if I didn't move my car down the street. I stayed with a different friend that night for my own safety. The next day went by relatively uneventful until later in the night, we got the EPO and I immediately went and made a bunch of copies before returning to my friend's house on the other side of the complex. I had been in contact with his dad who was using the tracker on his phone to keep me updated on his location, and at this point he had returned to his adoptive parents house in Oklahoma City. At around 20:45 on Wednesday we decided to head back to my apartment to take care of the animals and we found the residence occupied by a couple that none of us recognized. We quickly ran back to my friend's place and called 911, Police came out and removed them from the premesis, and they came out with bags and bags of mine and his things. The woman seemed very confused and had a baby with her, she said that my ex had given her all of it, and that I could take any of my belongings. We went through all the bags and I found several small things of mine, she claims that she was told to stay there and watch over the apartment and to pack his things for him, we got him on the phone (through his dad, I have not spoken to him at all since Tuesday morning when he called me) and he told the officers they weren't supposed to be there and that his key was stolen, and he still sounded heavily intoxicated. Finally everyone left and we went inside to find that everything had been pretty well cleaned up, but the vast majority of my belongings were missing. Adding now my PC, monitor and keyboard, a sewing machine and many yards of fabrics and notions, a cake decorating kit, a small TV and fire stick, a sweing kit from my great-great-grandmother, and a diamond necklace my mother had gotten me for my 16th birthday to the list of missing things. My jewelry box was cleaned out, anything that seemed valuable is now gone, his dad swears up and down they're going to get it all back to me but I don't think that's going to happen. We also found a bread knife with a white-powder on one side of it sitting in the living room, we suspect it to be meth or cocaine (more than likely meth, taking his mother's history and his behavior into account) but when I tried to have it tested the officer told me to just throw it out because it would just be a waste of time. That was the last big event, the last few days have been comparatively quiet aside from getting the PO amended so I can leave the apartment, and his dad texting me, begging me to drop the PO (I won't) I really want to press charges, the court Hearing for the protective order is on the 23rd and I want to be prepared for it, and I have a police report that was approved on Sunday that I have no clue what to do with.
TLDR: Crazy ex gets drunk after breakup, harasses and threatens my entire support system, destroys a bunch of my things and gives away all my valuables to his mothers meth-addicted buddies, and now is hiding behind his dad's hoping I'll drop the protective order.
Do I need an attorney? If so how do I get one? I don't have money right now as I'm trying to get a new place to live, do I still have options? I have a paper trail and witnesses to everything, what is the next step I need to take? Can I press charges for things that happened before we broke up (SA/DV??)? His parents have money and I'm afraid they won't make this an easy fight, but this man has spent his entire adult life having everything handed to him, and walking all over everyone around him. I spent 3 years trying to "fix" him and I want to make sure that after this he won't go off and hurt another girl the same way he did me. Any help is appreciated!

1/3 match stack ~700 eff with main villain.
Button straddle for $6
BB opens to 25 LJ flats for 25 Hero in HJ with QcQd 3bets to 125 Button calls BB and LJ fold
Flop (301): 9s 7d 3c
Hero bets $75 (I size down here on this low flop. Maybe should be going bigger?)
Button calls
Turn (451): 7c
Hero bets $125 (I size down again for an ~half pot shove on the river)
Button calls
River (700): As
Hero checks (I have a lot of Ax and overpairs to the 9 in my range. I don't think I can get a call from anything other than an ace or a set)
Button checks
Button shows JcJh
I think I definitely left value on the table here by sizing down on the flop and turn. Should I be structuring bet sizings to get the money in on 2 streets here? I think QQ for value on the river is too thin, but maybe I should be going for it?

I really felt the need to talk about the episode of Batman: The Animated Series I just watched, and my family does not care, so I will subject reddit to my rants! Put this in urbanplanning and it was getting plenty of upvotes and good conversation but then the mods deleted it for some reason, so hopefully this is appropriate for fuckcars since urban renewal and car dependency go hand in hand!
I recently finished reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs,* which is of course in large part a response to the "urban renewal" and slum clearing that occurred on a large scale in the mid 20th century that we are still dealing with today. I am also watching Batman: The Animated series for the first time since I was a child, and I was not expecting an episode to ALSO be a response to "urban renewal" and slum clearing!
For those who may not be familiar, Batman: TAS is an animated "kids'" television show that aired in the mid 90s. I put "kids'" in quotation marks, because many episodes feel very little like children's programing with their dark aesthetic, complex plots/character motivations, and mature themes. Case in point, my 7 year old daughter got through a couple episodes with me, but at the conclusion of the body-horror filled Clayface-starring 2-parter, she bravely said "Daddy, I don't think I can watch this anymore," which I agreed with and felt bad for subjecting her to it!
An actor transforming into a giant shape-shifting poop monster (Clayface) might be frightening to a 7 year old, but government bureaucracy is what's scary to adults, and a zoning board's denial of a massive "slum clearing" operation and subsequent redevelopment is the subject of the episode "Appointment in Crime Alley," loosely based on Detective Comics #457. Here, ruthless real estate developer Roland Daggett plans to secretly blow up a section of a crime-ridden but formerly upscale neighborhood, taking matters into his own hands after his board appeal to demolish and "revitalize" the neighborhood through legal means is rejected.
This neighborhood, formerly known as Park Row but now as the titular "Crime Alley," has its issues with crime and decay (and is in fact where Bruce Wayne's parents were murdered). But the writers make it clear that it is its diverse citizens' home, and is worth fighting for, especially through Park Row resident Leslie Thompkins (who was Wayne's mentor after his parents' death) and others who hold signs reading "Save Our Homes." Thompkins' support for her community as a longtime neighborhood resident mirrors Jacobs' for Greenwich Village in the face of its redevelopment threats.
Daggett is championed by the business community, being called a "force for progress." He gives a speech to the community prior to the planned explosion of the block where he says, "we cannot allow the underclass to hinder us from building a better tomorrow," which strikes me as one of those "quiet part out loud" moments. Batman senses his greedy intentions early, and accuses him of "running the people in the neighborhood out of their homes." He later comforts his mentor, Thompkins, at the end of the episode as she is expressing her disappointment in the state of her neighborhood as they walk down its streets, with Batman responding to her remark that "Good people used to live [in Crime Alley] once" with "Good people still live in Crime Alley," even as he lays a rose at the spot of his parent's death.
Ultimately, Daggett is successful in blowing up the neighborhood and in his cover-up (though Batman prevents the loss of life), and attempts to blame the neighborhood residents for the crime, saying to a news reporter, "you have to expect violence in Crime Alley. These people don't value human life like we do," which was an especially chilling line that rings true to the dehumanization that has occurred against minorities and marginalized communities in the US. Will Batman take him down later in the series? I guess we'll see!
I was just really impressed with the compassion that this episode showed towards the people of this run-down neighborhood, all while still being honest about the poor state of things and the need for improvement. Jacobs' chapter on "Slumming and Unslumming" felt very relevant here, as the neighborhood still had potential that needed to be gradually coaxed out and nourished, rather than taking it to the extreme of demolishing the neighborhood and displacing its people. TL;DR, watch this show, it's good!
*Wow it's incredible, I also desperately feel the need to talk about it book club style, because I know this is a very famous book but I don't see many people talking about it past "Jacobs was very important and she rallied against Robert Moses." I can't imagine reading this book in the 60's and seeing over and over again for decades that she was right about so much, as we continue to dig deeper into the hole. Also, the people that say her theories lead to gentrification clearly didn't read the chapter "Self-destruction of Diversity."

Most meetings should be an email:
Their “all hands on deck” meetings are early in the morning, even though the first three hours of your workday are your most precious and productive and should be reserved for the most important tasks where focus, attention, high cognitive function, willpower is needed, according to research. Willpower or mental energy regulates your thoughts, emotions, impulses, and performance control.
Top management has recurring meetings but it seems like the topic was determined 5 min beforehand because the meetings are often all over the place, with no clear agenda, and random topics. Often, they feel like a parent lecturing their teenager.
Meetings are mandatory. Most employees do not really have to be there. The meetings do not affect the actual day to day job functions. The main purpose for these meetings seems to be for unity (or the appearance of). They are often not productive. Not useful and not engaging for most employees. Not worth spending company time. Not used for coaching or mentoring. Not used for making decisions. They are not about a complex issue that needs to be talked through ideas and solutions. In actuality, 98% of the meetings should really just be emails. There are three regular weekly meetings: about 80-90% of them include testimonies or personal stories and about 10-20% is someone sharing statistics (about the products they produce) or status updates or the behind the scenes (how the "hotdogs" are made). One out of about four meetings involve a recount of the ministry's history. If one did not attend the meetings, nothing would change. There really would not be any consequences that would affect doing your job.
Finally, Managers or employees who have traveled internationally are the only ones that get to speak and address the entire ministry. Everyone else doesn't get a voice.
Testimonies or personal stories:
Stories and testimonies as a form of encouragement and motivation are not bad or not useful; however, there are other areas in the work culture that are lacking that destroy any built up motivation. Employees are expected to have some kind of emotional response to them. Over the months and years, stories and testimonies become overused. In fact, you will hear so many testimonies that, over time, they will blurr and you will probably become desensitized to them. Stories and testimonies are probably seen as a way of providing support to employees but other supports are also lacking and needed (e.g., better leadership, empowerment, resources, tools, better communication, regular check ins, accountability, empathy, feedback, personal and professional development). Stories, anecdotes, and testimonies seem to be used to deflect from some of the problems in the ministry culture.
Top management pressures employees to feel a certain way. They want them to always feel encouraged and motivated by everything and anything the ministry does:
If you replace "encourage" with Love" and then talk to your wife....
“I took out the trash, that should make you feel loved. I mowed the lawn, that should make you feel loved. I picked up my laundry, that should make you feel loved. I went exercised today, that should make you feel loved. i helped an old lady cross the street.”
This makes it all about YOU, not how your wife actually feels! in fact, you are manipulating her to feel a certain way by what you did!
"If you are not feeling loved by all these things I did, then something is wrong with YOU.”
So management tells employees how they should be feeling about things. Performance is often not rewarded. Many employees do not know how much management cares about them as a person. What would be really encouraging is if management gave employees confidence, listed better, spoke to their needs, and empowered them.
Meetings - introverts vs extroverts:
Meetings are not set up to accommodate the basic differences between introverts and extroverts (e.g., how they best think, work, process information, communicate, learn; introverts typically dislike noise and big group settings) nor of how people need to manage their energy (ultradian rhythms). Management does not use information about individual team members’ personalities and predilections to formulate norms and dynamics that are respectful to everyone. Research indicates that in a typical six-person meeting, two people do more than 60% of the talking. In bigger groups, like the 100+ group at FCBH, the problem is worse. Management allows a certain dominant personality to do all the talking. They are not coached to listen, reflect, and become more open to the perspectives of their more silent peers. Top management does not send the meeting agenda in advance and ask for written feedback to give introverts time to formulate thoughts and summon the courage to share them.
Management’s definition of a “successful” meeting is different from that of other organizations. Top management does not appear to have any training in meeting science. Most meetings do not provide value to all attendees. They are not set up for employees to contribute and add value to them. Also, no opportunities to give feedback on meeting quality when meetings end.
A “Christian” version of CRT:
The opinions and perspectives of international employees are valued over local/american employees. Employees who are international (and especially those who live in persecuted areas) are often prioritized and favored. Their voice, their input, is often considered more important because top management pressures them to share and speak.
If there is a need, entire ministry is notified to pray if the need is from internationals but not if the need is local.
Personal convictions. Money:
Top management tends to have some childhood trauma, that is the root cause of their strong personal convictions, that often comes out during their mandatory meetings. These “preaching” moments usually have to do with money. They grew up poor or had strict parents or been around groups, ministries, and churches that abused money and now they get triggered or feel guilty when they see new things and resist replacing things like whiteboards and chairs: "if we already have something, we don't need to replace it = if it ain't broke, don't fix/replace it. wear your shoes out until your soles poke through the bottom before buying new ones." They seem to get triggered when employees ask them for upgrades/replacements” “if it can still 'technically' work, then it's fine.”
Compromises:
In order to fulfill their deadlines and to keep up appearances with ministry partners and donors, management will often “let things go”. Things such as quality of the recordings or training issues with internationals. They are willing to sacrifice quality control to get the results their supporters want to see.
Employee well-being:
Top management often makes assumptions about the well-being and contentment of employees.
They do not invest time and effort in comprehending genuine emotions and needs to create a supportive and harmonious work environment.
No consideration for managing energy or attention. No discussions on employees’ health and wellness goals. Instead, employees are expected to focus, to look at computer screens for extended periods of time (an 8 hrs shift includes two short breaks) even though editing and processing audio and video requires high mental energy and prolonged focus. Management often ignores telltale singles of burnout and fatigue. No effort is made to increase energy, reduce fatigue, and improve job performance. So, consistency, accuracy, and quality of recordings are affected as well as employees’ well-being.
Moveover, no paid maternity or even work from home options for new parents. Many new moms have left. New parents must be use PTO if they want time with their new baby.
The end result? Low moral, isolation, aloneness. Many employees are overworked and underappreciated. Many are not satisfied with their position. Most work until they burn out. Someone said this and it's true: for every employee that leaves, they have to hire at least two people to replace them. Sure, there are some long-term or for life employees who have been around for 10+ years. Unfortunately, most of these employees have outdated skills and would have a difficult time finding work (there is no continuing education or certifications offered) if they wanted to leave (or were let go). In addition, many of the skills employees learn on the job are non-transferrable. So, many choose to stay and remain loyal to the ministry because the cost of leaving is just too high.
No windows; no natural light:
Most of the building has no windows. Something to note if you struggle with depression.
People are different:
Management seems to lack an understanding of how people are wired, how each person is different, what drives their behavior and what they’re capable of doing with their skills. Not much consideration for each person’s individual goals, strengths, and weaknesses. Management does not create situations that encourage employees to motivate themselves.
So, work areas do not reflect the needs of Gen Z and millennials, the basic differences between introverts and extroverts (e.g., how they think, work, process information, communicate, learn), how personality impacts work preferences and styles. No awareness of how people need to manage their energy (ultradian rhythms). They do not allow people to work the way they want to; extroverts should feel comfortable taking time to socialize, while introverts should have license to work remotely or take breaks from the team.
Top management does not recognize that individuals may not always express their inner concerns or desires openly. They don’t sculpt jobs to enhance individual engagement: they don’t seek to understand the unique motivations of employees or develop each employee’s career. No incentives or rewards are provided. Not much authentic appreciation is shown. Employees have value as people (not just as producers), and management needs to communicate in ways that are meaningful to the recipient (as opposed to just going through the motions). Management must adopt business practices that help employees have a personal life.”
Work family:
Despite current best business practices, management will continually use the phrase “work family”.
All about the numbers:
There is more focus on production than the core values of the ministry. Top management almost idolizes how many bibles are produced. There is a focus on goals and numbers which often comes off as self-righteous and self-promoting and self-important: Numbers of bibles produced, numbers of people who receive those bibles, numbers of testimonies from those that get the bibles. Focus seems to be on the products FCBH produces over the people reached. Focus is on getting bibles to people. Focus is not on discipleship or teaching people how to correctly interpret the Bible they receive so they can become more like Jesus. Top management seems to be more focused on what they have done well rather than on what others have done well. And they often take credit for accomplishments that should be credited to God.
Theology at work:
Management does not want discussions to get “too theological”, they want to keep it “practical”, as though good practice did not require careful thought to direct it. They discourage employees from discussing theology because they want to keep “unity” and avoid division among Christians, however, they will present their own theological positions and convictions but not allow other employees to question or share their own views and opinions especially on controversial topics (e.g., spiritual gifts, hearing from God, fasting, finances, stewardship, prophesy, replacement theology).
Favoritism:
Major donors to the ministry are singled out to entire staff and praised. The poor widow with two coins wouldn't get any mention. This makes it seem that the ministry only really cares about the major donors. All donors should be anonymous to employees that are not directly working with the donors.
Employees who are pastors are also favored:
They are often asked to pray or give a word in meetings as if their prayers and words are above employees who are not pastors. As if God will take extra time and attention to hear from them and answer their prayers.
Inconsistencies:
Some “special” employees are allowed to work remotely for some unknown reason. Most employees requesting to WFH are denied. This is never explained and so it creates division, confusion, and envy.
Birthday, thanksgiving, and Christmas parties vary drastically by department: some departments work half day and get together off site to celebrate; some work full day and have no party; some work full day and have a 30min party onsite (during work hours?); some have food only, some have food and games, some have everyone bring in food but some have the ministry? provide the food; some have gift exchange and some don’t….
​
Conclusion:
Some people might say this is all superficial and selfish, all that really matters is getting bibles to people. You be the judge. Many have chosen to ignore these issues and remain loyal to the ministry; some stay and think things will get better; others stay because they have nowhere else to go; some mentally check out; some have spoken out and been labeled as “causing disunity” and then let go, and many others have chosen to leave. Unfortunately, the people most sensitive to a decrease in the quality of the culture are typically those with the most resources, skills, and talents that could be used to effectuate improvement. The people who are the least sensitive to quality usually have fewer resources, skills, and talents.

Hi Reddit,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my current marital situation and the potential sale of our home. To give you the full picture, I'll start from the beginning. Apologies for the length, but I feel all the details are necessary to understand the context.
I (29F) met my husband (40M) on Tinder four years ago. We dated for about eight months when my family had an opportunity to purchase a property. My then-boyfriend was also looking to be involved in a business deal of that sort, and he was interested in having his name on the property as well. My father supported this, seeing as how my boyfriend was a physician with a good income, and saw this as a way to bring him closer to our family. The opportunity came quickly, and we all signed the contract to purchase the house.
Trouble began shortly after this. My boyfriend requested that only he and I be on the title of the house, removing the rest of my family, as he saw a future with us and envisioned it as our potential family home. My father was very pleased to hear this and supported it, so we obliged. During this time, the property had increased in value, and I requested the other family members be paid off so we could buy out their shares. My boyfriend declined, feeling it was unfair.
To skim over some details, here are the highlights of the construction: My boyfriend paid more for the down payment than we initially realized would be required. Because of this, he paid no further construction costs. The construction proceeded with debt from my family until the construction loans came through. My family paid for the construction, and my father built the house for us without charging for his management services. My father was displeased with my boyfriend’s behavior and required him to pay more money for the construction due to inflation and the COVID shutdown. My boyfriend declined, and my mother and I secretly took out a line of credit to front the construction costs to my father, pretending it was from my boyfriend. Eventually, as we got the construction loans on a rolling basis after meeting construction milestones, my mother’s line of credit was paid off.
During this time, my family and I wondered why my boyfriend had not proposed. I decided that if he hadn't proposed by a certain time, I would leave him. Fortunately, he did propose on Valentine’s Day 2022. By spring of 2022, construction was coming to an end, and it was time for us to settle into the house. My fiancé felt uncomfortable with how much money he had put into the house and was worried I could leave him and make a profit. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but it wasn’t enough. He said he would believe me if I had a child with him, otherwise women would leave men if there were no ties. I told him I would have a child with him right when we got married. He suggested I come off birth control, as it takes months for a woman’s cycle to normalize after being on birth control for many years. I promised him I would come off birth control.
Coming off birth control was more stressful than I realized. I was very hormonal, breaking out, and felt unlike myself. This contributed to my fiancé and I fighting more than usual. In one particularly heated fight, I told him I would go back on birth control and even purchased the pills, but he told me he would break up with me if I did because he wanted to get to know the real me. I conceded, and then something switched in me and I became excited at the possibility of having a baby. I started tracking my cycle and figuring out my ovulation days. I shared this with my fiancé, and on one of those days, we got pregnant. I didn’t find out until the end of summer 2022. When I did find out, I told my fiancé and suggested we should probably get married.
My fiancé's first response was that we should wait to see if the baby sticks, and if it does, then we can plan a marriage but he wanted to wait until February 2023. I was very disappointed and angry and yelled at him. I felt alone and overwhelmed by the thought of having an illegitimate child. After discussing potentially getting an abortion, potentially breaking up, and potentially selling the house, I talked my fiancé into keeping the baby and getting married. He also wanted to keep the baby but was afraid of our situation. After many fights about when to have the wedding, we finally decided on December 2022. At that point, I was four months pregnant. During this time, my fiancé and I had major arguments that therapy couldn’t even remedy. We would yell at each other, slam doors, I would cry, and he would hold himself up in a room for hours. We had nice moments too, but they were heavily clouded over by the bad.
Finally, we got married, and things were good for a while. But then we faced some marital problems. My husband kept separate accounts and managed the finances himself. We had a joint credit card where I could pay for expenses without being questioned. He made all of the major investment decisions and major purchases. If I tried to disagree or speak up, he would get upset because this was not the submissive wife I had promised him I would be. I made significantly less money than him but lived a good lifestyle, buying almost anything I wanted within reason. Coming from a traditional family, I was upset that finances were kept separate. And so it continued that my husband would invest tens of thousands of dollars into our house so that his family from out of town would visit. We live in Vancouver, Canada, but his family is from Ottawa. In hopes of luring his youngest sister (of four) to Vancouver, my husband would make any modification to the house that his youngest sister showed the slightest interest in. This included a hot tub on the rooftop, a media system in the basement, a movie projector, and much more. After said sister got married, she made it clear that she would not move to Vancouver. Then a switch happened in my husband, and he suddenly wanted to sell the house.
Meanwhile, during all this time, I had my baby, and my husband and I were still fighting more than ever. I felt no support from him, and he felt drained by his work, our fights, and being away from his family. Recently, for the past three months, he has been consistently pushing for the sale of our house. This is where my dilemma lies. I am afraid to sell this house because my husband has kept finances separate, and the mortgage on this house has been serving as a way for me to feel secure. My husband contributes a monthly amount on a regular basis. He could have forced a sale in the past but didn’t, instead paying into the monthly mortgage on top of other bills. Now, he is considering forcing the sale of our house, but I am upset that he is citing financing as the issue when I have been begging him to save money instead of spending (his response is that $200,000 does not affect a $2M mortgage, and that he now feels burnt out and wants to retire sooner and live passively). If I agree to sell, I feel unstable about moving from our home given that my husband and I fight so frequently, and I am left alone to take care of the child. It is also worth noting that my parents live right across the street and come over frequently to help with the child, or I would go over to seek their help. My husband says that he feels abandoned and uncomfortable frequently because of our proximity to my parents, but I am because there have been times when I felt truly alone, and my parents were my only solace and support. My husband would ignore me for days, especially when I was postpartum and vulnerable. My parents now see my husband as someone who doesn’t put his wife and child first. My husband says that the massive mortgage we have is too stressful for him, and he can’t take that burden. I am sad that my husband will not consider keeping this house for another three years so that I can get comfortable with the idea of selling the house and that potentially I and my family can all move to Ottawa so that we can allow my husband to be closer to his family.
I don’t know what to do at this point, Reddit. I’m currently on extended maternity leave, but it ends in six months. My husband and I will have to come to an agreement about the house, otherwise, it is likely that he will force the sale of the house even if I’m not ready to move. I’ve consistently felt rushed and overlooked in this relationship. I am tired of being the small voice that does not impact decision-making. My husband is now being nice to me and trying to show me a good time, but I see it as him turning on his charming mode so that I can say yes to the sale of this house. I’m not sure what to do. Our fights and disagreements are so bad and the marriage feels like doom sometimes (never any physical violence). I sometimes questions even staying with him, but I worry for my daughter. He is a good father to her, when he is present and off his phone.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
TL;DR:
I need advice. I met my husband four years ago, and we bought a house together with my family's help. Financial disputes caused issues. Despite getting married and having a baby, we fight often. My husband handles our finances separately, spent a lot on the house, but now wants to sell it. I feel insecure about selling because the mortgage is like an investment to me, and also I rely on my parents, who live nearby, for help with our child. My husband feels stressed by the mortgage and feels homesick for his family 3000km away. I feel overlooked in decision-making and am unsure whether to agree to the sale, or to stand my ground and not sell. Sometimes I question staying in the marriage for my daughter’s sake, or is it better give up on this unhappy marriage.

And don't tell me you can't anymore because I've got a pretty great list below already!
My favorite spots, and my go-to items. Prices as of May 2024:
Mediterranean

• Grill On the Go Mediterranean: $8 gyro combo is my go-to.
• Gyro Grill:- Creeping above $10 for some of my fav stuff, but I think you can still get a good-sized gyro for $9.

Tacos & Burritos

• Taqueria El Torito: $2.50 tacos.
• Gresham Burrito Shop: $7 burritos.
• Pepitos: $8 for burrito or taco combo.
• Los Gorditos/Taqueria Los Gorditos: $2/street taco, $8 burrito.
• Ole Frijole: Just under $10 for a burrito or torta with meat.
• La Hidalguense: Been a min, but I think tacos or a burrito will still leave you under $10.
• Tienda Santa Cruz: I always get tacos, but it's affordable and great overall.
• Taqueria Portland: They're pushing my $10 limit these days, but it's still $10 or less for about half the burritos and it's good stuff. Even the more expensive things are sub $12-13.
• King Burrito: Been a minute, but I'm confident most of their burritos are still under $10.

Banh Mi & Asian Cuisine

• Best Baguette: Banh Mi for $6-7. Don't love banh mi personally, but I know many do.
• Binh Minh: Again, not the biggest banh mi guy, but $6-$7.50 for a filling sandwich is great.
• The House of Bánh Mì: Idk exactly, but I think still sub $10.
• An Xuyên Bakery: How about a Steamed BBQ Pork Buns AND a rice plate or banh mi for under $10.

Pizza

• Pizzeria Otto: $9 Happy Hour Margherita from 11am-5pm.
• Life of Pie: $8 Happy Hour Margherita from 11am-6pm. $8 is dine-in only, it's $9 if you call in.

Burgers

• MidCity SmashedBurger: $6-9 depending on hunger level.
• hit the spot!: Smashburgers and chicken, $7-10 for me usually.

Breakfast & Sandwiches

• Fressen Artisan Bakery: Not super cheap but way more affordable than brunch if you want to eat breakfast out. $7 fried egg, bacon, & gruyere cheese is my go-to. The pastries and other sammies are delicious too.
• Midpoint Food and Drink: Mid-Muffin sammy for $7 or basic breakfast for $8.5.
• Dockside Saloon and Restaurant: Sub $10 breakfast combo plates and deli sandwiches.

Other

• Herb's Mac and Cheese: Special #1 is my go-to - Jalapenos, chicken, and pepper jack. Regular size is good for me, $8.
• Love Belizean: Haven't been in a minute, but I think you can still get out of there for $10. So good.
• Taste Tickler: They told me they're about to raise prices, but still, even after the $1 increase, Chicken rice box will be $9.95 and the Famous Tickler 7" sandwich will be $9.65.
• GrindWitTryz: Bit of a caveat here. I usually spend between $16-20, BUT it also usually lasts me two full meals.
• Chipotle: I don't think this will be a popular take, but Chipotle is still a great value, albeit not local like the remainder of the list. $9-10, depending on location, for a chicken bowl (less for veg or sofritas) that is about twice as much food as Whole Bowl for $1-2 more. No hate to Whole Bowl, I went there 15 times a month when I moved here. The value just isn't there as much at $8 as it was at $6.

Well my list is about 10x longer than I expected and collecting my own thoughts took most of the morning so I'm hangry now. Please let me know any others that are a good fit for the list. I absolutely love not having to cook while supporting local restaurants, especially when I don't have to break the bank to do so!

A delicate young man with pallid skin and dark circles under his eyes sat on a weathered bench opposite the police station. He held a cup of coffee in his hands—not the cheap synthetic kind available to those in the slums, but genuine plant-based coffee, a luxury usually reserved for higher-ranking citizens. It had cost him nearly all his savings, yet Sunny chose this day for a bit of indulgence.
After all, he was at the end of his road.
Basking in the warmth of the extravagant beverage, he lifted the cup to relish its scent. With a cautious sip, he winced.
"Ah! So bitter!"
Staring down the coffee with a deep sigh, Sunny persevered, taking another gulp. Despite its bitterness, he was set on enjoying the full value of his purchase—regardless of his protesting taste buds.
"I should've opted for real meat instead. Who would've thought actual coffee could taste so foul? At least it'll keep me awake," he mused.
Gazing into the void, he began to nod off, only to jolt himself awake with a slap to the face.
"Such a rip-off," he muttered.
With a shake of his head and a few choice words, Sunny downed the rest of his coffee and rose to his feet. The affluent residents of this part of town hurried by the small park, casting curious glances his way. His haggard appearance, accentuated by cheap attire and sleep deprivation, made him stick out. His thin, pale figure contrasted sharply with the robust passersby. Enviously eyeing their stature, he aimed the cup at a nearby bin.
"That's the difference three square meals a day make," he scoffed.
The cup missed its target, landing on the pavement. Sunny sighed, retrieved the cup, and made sure it went into the bin this time. A wry smile on his face, he crossed the street and stepped into the police station.
Inside, a weary officer cast a brief glance at him and frowned in clear distaste.
"Are you lost, boy?"
Sunny surveyed the surroundings with interest, observing the reinforced armor on the walls and the barely concealed turret nests in the ceiling. The officer appeared scruffy and stern. It seemed police stations were consistent everywhere.
"Hey! I'm speaking to you!"
Sunny cleared his throat.
"Uh, no."
He then scratched the back of his head and continued:
"Under the Third Special Directive, I am here to turn myself in as a carrier of the Nightmare Spell."
The officer's demeanor shifted from annoyance to caution. He scrutinized the young man anew, this time with a sharp gaze.
"Are you certain you're infected? When did the symptoms begin?"
Sunny gave a nonchalant shrug.
"A week ago?"
The officer's complexion turned noticeably paler.
"Damn."
Then, with a swift movement, he hit a button on his terminal and shouted:
"Attention! Code Black in the lobby! I repeat, CODE BLACK!"
***
The Nightmare Spell emerged several decades ago, during a period when the planet was beginning to recover from catastrophic natural disasters and ensuing wars over resources.
Initially, a new ailment causing widespread fatigue and drowsiness didn't garner much attention. However, as people began to succumb to an abnormal sleep from which they wouldn't awaken, even after several days, governments started to panic. By that time, it was too late for any response to make a difference.
As the afflicted began to die in their sleep, transforming into monsters upon death, the world was unprepared. These Nightmare Creatures swiftly overran national defenses, casting the world into utter disarray.
The nature of the Spell, its capabilities, and methods to combat it remained unknown.
Ultimately, it was the Awakened—those who had endured the Spell's initial onslaught and returned alive—who halted its destruction. Wielding extraordinary powers gained through their Nightmares, they reestablished peace and forged a new semblance of order.
Certainly, it was just the initial catastrophe unleashed by the Spell. However, for Sunny, it seemed irrelevant — until recently, when he began struggling to stay awake.
For the average individual, being selected by the Spell could be as dangerous as it was fortuitous. In school, children were taught survival skills and combat techniques in case they were affected. Affluent families employed private tutors to instruct their offspring in various martial arts. Members of the Awakened clans even possessed potent heritages, harnessing ancestral Memories and Echoes during their inaugural journey to the Dream Realm.
The wealthier your family, the greater your odds of enduring and ascending as an Awakened.
Yet for Sunny, an orphan who devoted his days to foraging rather than education, the Spell's choice offered no prospects. For him, it signified an almost certain demise.
***
Minutes later, Sunny yawned as several policemen busied themselves securing him in restraints. Shortly, he was strapped into a bulky chair, an odd hybrid of a hospital bed and a torture device. They were in a room located in the police station's basement, encased by thick armored walls and guarded by a daunting vault door. Nearby, officers stood against the walls, clutching automatic rifles with stern looks etched on their faces.
Sunny was indifferent to them. His only concern was his overwhelming desire to sleep.
At last, the vault door swung open, and a gray-haired policeman stepped through. His face bore the marks of experience, and his stern eyes seemed to have witnessed countless horrors. After inspecting the restraints, he cast a swift glance at his wristwatch before facing Sunny:
"What's your name, kid?"
Sunny blinked several times, struggling to focus, then squirmed in discomfort.
"Sunless."
The elderly policeman lifted an eyebrow.
"Sunless? That's an unusual name."
Sunny attempted to shrug, but his body refused to cooperate.
"What's unusual about it? At least I have a name. Where I come from, not everyone is given one."
He yawned before continuing:
"It's because I was born during a solar eclipse. My mother was quite the poet."
Hence his peculiar name, and why his younger sister was named Rain… at least, when she was still with them. Whether it stemmed from poetic flair or sheer indolence, he couldn't tell.
The policeman gave a gruff sound.
"Should I get in touch with your family?"
Sunny shook his head.
"No need. There's no one left."
For a moment, a shadow crossed the policeman's face before it settled into a grave expression.
"Alright, Sunless. How long can you remain awake?"
"Uh… not very long."
The policeman exhaled deeply.
"In that case, we don't have time for the complete procedure. Resist sleep as best as you can and pay close attention to what I'm about to say. Understood?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continued:
"What do you understand about the Nightmare Spell?"
Sunny looked at him with uncertainty.
"About as much as the next person, I suppose? Isn't the Spell common knowledge?"
"It's not the glamorous stuff you see in dramas or hear about in propaganda broadcasts. How much do you truly understand?"
That question was difficult to answer.
"So, I just enter the Dream Realm, slay some monsters to complete the First Nightmare, gain magical powers, and become an Awakened?"
The veteran policeman shook his head.
"Pay attention. When you fall asleep, you'll be transported into your First Nightmare. Nightmares are trials crafted by the Spell. Inside, you'll encounter monsters, but you'll encounter people as well. Remember, they aren't real. They are merely illusions created to challenge you."
"How can you be certain?"
The policeman fixed him with a stare.
"I mean, nobody really grasps the nature of the Spell or its mechanics, right? So how can you be sure they aren't real?"
"You may have to eliminate them, kid. It's better for you to consider them as mere illusions."
"Oh."
The aged officer paused for a moment, then nodded and resumed speaking.
"Much about the First Nightmare is left to chance. Generally, it's not meant to be excessively difficult. The predicament you find yourself in, the tools at your disposal, and the creatures you must overcome should all fall within your capabilities. After all, the Spell conjures trials, not death sentences. Your particular situation does put you at a disadvantage, but remember, children from the outskirts are resilient. Don't lose hope just yet."
"Mm-hmm."
Sunny's drowsiness was intensifying, making it difficult to keep up with the conversation.
"As for the 'magic powers' you inquired about... indeed, you will acquire them if you endure the Nightmare until its conclusion. The exact nature of these powers will depend on your inherent affinities and your actions during the trial. However, you'll have access to some of them right from the beginning..."
The old policeman's voice was fading into the distance. Sunny's eyelids were so heavy, it was a struggle to keep his eyes open.
"Remember: your first task upon entering the Nightmare is to assess your Attributes and your Aspect. If you're assigned a combat-oriented Aspect, like a Swordsman or an Archer, you'll find things more manageable. If it's complemented by a physical Attribute, all the better. Since Combat Aspects are quite common, there's a good chance you'll receive one."
The light in the armored room was fading.
"If you're unfortunate enough to have an Aspect unrelated to combat, don't lose heart. Sorcery and utility Aspects have their own merits; you just need to use them wisely. There are no truly useless Aspects. Well, almost none. So do whatever it takes to survive."
"Surviving means you're on your way to becoming an Awakened. But if you perish, you'll create a portal for a Nightmare Creature to enter our world. That would mean my colleagues and I have to intervene. So, please, Sunless, don't perish."
Sunny, already drifting to sleep, felt somewhat moved by the officer's plea.
"And try not to perish immediately. It will be hours before the nearest Awakened can arrive, and we'd really prefer not to confront that creature alone..."
'What?'
With that final thought, Sunny succumbed to a profound sleep.
Darkness enveloped everything.
And then, from the shadows, a vaguely familiar voice echoed:
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
****
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I genuinely do not know how to cope with this kind of grief. My stbxh lives down the street; our divorce is about to be finalized. He wanted it and I didn’t, and the battle with acceptance had been brutal but I turned a corner in January. Today marks 1 year since I knew he was gonna jump ship, and in some ways I at least feel better this year than I did in May ‘23. Still, WTF? How do you all cope?
On some days I feel free and strong, knowing I survived my worst fear (and continue to survive it). I’ve met someone new who I really like who I’ve stared to have feelings for, whose presence and personality are so radiant and real that I’m taken aback. I’m experiencing what feels like the beginning of a new kind of love — one that helps me live out my values, plan for the future, and experience a connection that’s both calm and passionate without the harshness and chaos my stbxh inflicted. Moving slowly and trying to just observe how things feel.
It’s really f-ing weird to have this kind of “new growth” while part of my life is also falling away. The only metaphor that feels accurate is related to my plants — I notice new growth and new leaves/green shoots rising up every day. Certain parts need to be cut so that the overall plant can thrive. I guess it’s not like he literally died but moreso that I have to cut the connection so I can thrive.
I know I have to let go of him so I can have a shot at something real with this person I’ve met or even just alone. Some days I feel guilty for still grieving. It’s just a rollercoaster — certain choices have been made for me and I’m operating within that. I am making the choice to open my heart to this new person, who has been nothing but supportive and accepting about my situation. It’s just SO WEIRD that someone you would’ve done anything for can just peace out, yet live nearby.
How do you deal? I want to be able to accept this but it’s hard. Trying to focus on how we brought out the worst in one another in the end and how he was super mean and erratic.

I live in rural Utah. There's probably 300 people living here. We have a wide array of people who live here: trailer trash, doomsday preppers, ranchers, snowbirds, richies from the city...
My neighbor, we'll call her Tasha, is an excellent neighbor! She is constantly bring by treats, she watches my kids on occasion, giving us furniture she no longer wants, and in the summer she will send her teenagers over to mow my lawn(she says they need SOMETHING to do). All around sweetheart. Her yard, though can get a bit cluttered. She has 6 kids and that lends itself to many cars and project cars in her yard. Tasha re-finishes furniture and usually has a fair amount of dressers or shelves sitting around. It can look like quite a mess. As far as I know, our small town has no ordinances in place requiring a "neat" front yard unless you live on main street(we do not).
This last year, the house next to her's, kittycorner from me, was bought by an affluent couple from one of the nicer neighborhoods in Slat Lake(I won't say which, but it's ritzy as all get-out!). They keep to themselves and come to town on weekends in the summer. I usually see their car here 5 or 6 times a year. They're recluses I guess as I have never seen them around town. Tasha said she's tried to talk to them, but they aren't much for conversation.
Last summer, the new neighbors went to the town and complained about Tasha's yard. They said it is bringing their property value down, and making the town look trashy. They asked the town to cite her and have her clean up her mess. I'm one who likes to keep my yard relatively clean, but I know that I sure look pretty trailer-trashy myself sometimes, but ultimately I think she can do what she wants with her yard as long as she's not bothering anyone else.
The town told neighbors that there's nothing they can do about it. So the next time they came to town, they went to Tasha's to confront her. They told her her place was abhorrent, and that since she's related to one of the "richer" families in town that they were surprised that she lives like this. They followed that up with complaining about their shared fence(it's not in the best shape). Since its on her property they demanded she put up a new one that wasn't leaning over as much. Tasha wasn't having it and told them to leave, and why did they move out here when they knew the neighbors place looked a mess? She accused them of 'bringing their city rules out here to the county', and told them to leave.
She aparently decided to fix the neighbor's problems with one solution, and I watched as Tasha and her kids spent the next week collecting all the junk in the yard and piling it up into a nice biiiiig pile, it's roughly 10ft x 15ft and 4 feet tall right against her fence. Bam! No more leaning fence!
When the neighbors saw this, they were fuming, and went to her again. This time though her 6ft 7in Tongan husband answered the door and politely told them to leave and 'drop it'. They left unsatisfied and in a huff. I haven't heard any updates on the matter so I'm guessing, for now, they've won the battle. It'll be interesting to see how it goes when the neighbors come to visit this summer.
I think my neighbor is a Petty Queen, but is she actually TA??

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

Realise this isn’t a renovation but keen for any thoughts. We’re looking at a flat block that’s approx 2 metres below street level behind a retaining wall, necessitating an elevated carport and likely a custom build house as the spec builders won’t stray from their base designs.
We’ve spoken with a couple of custom builders, all which require an upfront design fee which then comes off the build. This got me thinking, should I just employ my own designer and then source a builder?
We’ve built with a project builder before but not a custom so keen for thoughts. Our budget isn’t huge ($950k Brisbane) for such a foray so worried if we get the builders designer to deliver something, then we’re locked into their pricing which might not give us much value?

Hi Morgan, Longtime listener, first time writing in. My best friend and I are having trouble figuring out the right thing to do in this situation and wanted to get an outside perspective. Buckle up because this is a LONG one because theres a lot of backstory that’s necessary.
Would we be the assholes if we didn’t attend our childhood best friends wedding?
There is a lot of context in this storyline so I’ll try to give a lot of detail. We start in January of 2023, my best friend, Greta(26F) and I(26F) get in contact with one of our childhood best friends, Laura (26F), and plan a visit to catch up on the past 10ish years that we’ve been apart. Laura moved away from our hometown when we were 15. Now Greta and I live about 2 hours from where Laura moved to when we were young, so we reached out and invited her and her fiancé Logan(26M) up to stay with us and hang out.
They come visit, we have such a great time, her fiancé was pretty quiet and distant the whole time, but the 3 of us together were big talkers so I just chalked it up to him not being able to get a word in and they left. In March they came back to visit again and announced to us that they were moving a few states away. We were really sad, but happy for them since they were getting to move somewhere that they’d wanted to be for a while. They were going to elope together after a few months but Logan had a university study abroad for a month in Japan so they were going to wait until after.
So, he leaves for Japan in May, and while he is away a girl reaches out to Laura from the college that Logan attends. This girl tells Laura that her friend had been getting really close with Logan, uncomfortably so and she wanted to give Laura a heads up that she thought they were romantically involved. Greta and I were worried but Laura brushed it off and said it was probably nothing, so Greta and I dropped it because we didn’t feel close enough to Laura to tell her we felt like she should look into it more.
Flash forward 2 weeks into Logan’s study abroad, he calls Laura at 5AM to let her know that he doesn’t think he wants to get married anymore. She’s distraught but has to go into work that morning and calls us after to let us know. We support her, you know he fucking sucks for doing that not only over the phone but right before she went into work, real shady. Greta and I are very worried about Laura because Laura really wants to make it work, but we still don’t say anything because we just want to be there for her.
He gets back and agrees to go to couples counseling, they do couples counseling for 2 weeks, during this time he repairs her car. Replaces a tire, breaks, oil change, the works, he’s been working with cars for a long time, so this was no biggie. Well after that two weeks, Laura comes home to all of Logan’s stuff packed and he tells her it’s over and he’s moving back home. He leaves. She’s devastated. We comfort her, come up and visit her, and tell her that she doesn’t need him and she slowly starts getting over him. Meanwhile she gives us A TON of context about her relationship with Logan. She paid for his college, he has had no job for the past 2 years while getting his degree, so she had been financially supporting them both. She paid for his trip to Japan, he put her in 20K of credit card debt, and more in personal loans, etc. Then in couples therapy told her he wasn’t attracted to her because she made money and he didn’t (so weird).
So immediately Greta and I are like, “Girl, we had a bad feeling, we wanted to tell you but didn’t want to upset you, we’re just glad you’re finally out of that mess”. She tells us that next time we should come to her and be honest with her, we apologize and agree. Then one day Laura calls us to tell us that she almost got into a really bad car accident. She lives in a mountainous area and her breaks went out on her when she was driving on the interstate on a hill, she managed to pull of into a grass median and slow the car down.
She gets the car towed to a mechanic that night and heads to work the next morning. Mechanic calls her midday. He asks he who worked on her car last, she said “My ex” and he said “Is he still in your life?” she said no. And he said “Good, Because I’ve never seen anything like this in my 20 years as a mechanic.” Her brake fluid hadn’t been connected so all the break fluid drained out. Her brake pads weren’t fastened/screwed in to the wheels, the were just placed in there. And he back tire bolts were stripped so hard that he said he tire probably would’ve come off had she kept driving.
Later that week, Logan asks to talk to her, she agrees only to get closure on the situation. Well he calls and begs her to get back together, she says no absolutely not. Then he asks” How’s the car?” She said, “Well I almost died last week”, he immediately jumped to the defensive “Well, that had nothing to do with me, I didn’t do anything” a very guilty response, so we were all convinced he tried to kill her. She filed a police report on him and started moving on. This is in July.
Now we move into part two of this debacle. My partner and I go up to visit her in September and she’s doing well on her own, she’s having fun, dating around, putting herself first, in therapy, just doing really well, were happy for her. She hasn’t really made any friends which is making her lonely but we were telling her to get involved in clubs and meet people, etc.
We leave our trip which was really fun and head back home. 2 weeks later, Laura says she’s met this really great guy, its almost October at this point, she’s gone on multiple dates with him and really likes him, were happy for her, still a bit concerned, but if she’s happy we’re happy. So Laura, Greta, and I plan a girls trip to come up and visit Laura for a long weekend. Laura wants us to vet this new guy, make sure he’s a good dude. She tells us she really values our input and so Greta and I are so excited to go on this trip with an open mind. November rolls around, one month before our trip and Laura announces that the new guy, we’ll call him Will (29M) has moved in with her, bringing his dog with him. Greta and I are a bit shocked but we didn’t say anything bc we’ve both done stuff like that before and Laura was struggling to keep up with rent on her own (she was still in the house that her ex fiancé left her in) so we knew she could use a roommate.
December is finally here and Greta and I hop on a plane and Will and Laura pick us up from the airport, first impression in the car was fine, he seemed nice, he drove us back to their place and we walk into the house. I come face to face with a completely different living room than I saw in September, all of Laura’s art and stuff are moved out of the living room replaced with the following: a giant poster of Elon Musk smoking a joint, a poster model of a rocket, a poster of Jesus riding a dinosaur with a machine gun. And a bookshelf full of Will’s books and Lego sets on display. Alarm bells are going off in my head and Greta’s at this point. We have a little conversation and because it’s late, we go to bed. We sleep in a room that outside of the house in the backyard, it has full heating so its basically just like a bedroom with a deadbolt. I double lock the dead bolts and we go to bed.
At 3am I’m woken up by Greta shaking me in a panic, asking me if I remembered to double deadbolt the door, I told her I did and that were okay and we both went back to sleep. When we woke up the next day, and she told me she had a weird feeling that he was gonna come in our room in the night. I agreed, and told her that was why I double dead bolted the door.
We go through our girls trip which ended up not being a girls trip at all, Will was by our side the entire time. Laura and he talked about looking at ENGAGEMENT RINGS, they bought a ring sizer, she was picking out her faves. He never let us have girl time except for one hour trip we took downtown to window shop. He would come sit in Greta and my room when we were talking with Laura, he would watch movies with us, he went everywhere with us. Not only that but in the middle of conversations, he would pull out his guitar and just start playing in the middle of us talking, or when we sat down to watch a movie. There is one bathroom in the house, and the main house part is very small about 650 square feet, my friend Greta has bathroom anxiety, she doesn’t like to poop in public places so she asked Laura and I if we would grab Will and the dog, and just go for a quick walk around the block while she used the bathroom. It was no biggie, so we got ready and went on a walk, we got 20 feet out the door and Will starts griping about how he doesn’t want to be outside and that Greta is a selfish pooper, and continues to complain the entire time were outside. We don’t even go for a walk, we stop at the corner of the street and just stand there because he doesn’t want to go any further.
At this point I’m annoyed with this guy, he just seems really controlling. To add to it, he didn’t want to go for a hike in the mountains, so Laura didn’t want to go so we ended up spending the entire weekend inside their house basically, even though we were in a beautiful area, and hiking is a group favorite, because he didn’t want to go. We didn’t. Also this is a personal anger of mine but I bought a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts (they were $18, which is crazy) and he ate EIGHT OF THEM. it pissed me off so bad, I had to hide the box that night just so I had 1 donut left over in the morning. Anyway onto the big finale.
Our last night there we finished up watching a movie and the events that unfold all happen within 3 minutes, keep that in mind. Laura had taken an edible so she was pretty out of it, like laying on top of the dog, whispering, just all around sounding really tired. Will says hes gonna take her to bed and Greta and I say were gonna get ready for bed in the bathroom. Bedroom and bathroom are five steps fro each other. I brush my teeth and use the bathroom while Greta is brushing hers and then I walk out of the bathroom and tell Greta that I’m grabbing my stuff to head over to our outside bedroom. I grab my bag from the kitchen counter, which is right next to their bedroom door. The bedroom door is open so I say goodnight to both of them and tell Greta I’ll see her in a sec, she’s just finishing up. Maybe 45 seconds pass and I’m waiting in our bedroom when I get 3 texts from Greta “OH MY GOD” “HELP” “HOLY SHIT”, Greta comes running out of the house, slamming the back door, and I run up to her.
She tells me that they were loudly having sex in their bedroom with the door open, mind you the bathroom is 5 steps from the bedroom. the kitchen counter is right next to the bedroom and Greta had to walk over to it to grab her stuff.
We are freaked the fuck out at this point not only was it super disrespectful but Greta was super affected by it, which who wouldn’t be it was disturbing. Because mere moments before Laura went to bed she was so high. And I smoke regularly so I know what it looks like when someone is super high and I hadn’t gotten that high in a long time. She was very out of it. So this really bothered us both.
The next day, were ready to go home, we get to the airport where they drop us off and once the two of us are in the airport we both look at each other and both just say “that was horrible”, we both felt like the entire trip we had a bad feeling about him and didn’t want to ruin the vibes of the trip so we just didn’t say anything about it. So were sitting in the terminal writing down a list of all the red flags, all the instances where he gave us a bad feeling. And overall just as a person he gave us a really bad feeling. Just gross, nasty, icky feeling. Not sure how to describe it well but I just knew something was off and Greta said she felt the same.
Laura had asked us to give our opinion on what we thought of him so we drafted up a letter to her, with key moments and points that we felt were big signs that he may not be a good guy. It includes everything we went over in this story, I didn’t want to supply to much of our opinion on the situation but I know that my bias comes out in this story a bit.
We wrote to her, and she responded to us with basically “I appreciate your concern, I will take your opinions into consideration” Its worth it to note that they were talking about getting engaged in March of 2024 (It is Early December 2023 at this point) and in our letter we told her that she should give their relationship more time, and get to know him better before they get engaged.
Our relationship with her after that became very one sided, Greta and I tried our best to keep messaging her but she really never responded so we kind of gave up. End of January we get a text from her, a picture of her and him she has an engagement ring on, “We’re engaged!” Greta and I respond with a Congrats! and a heart emoji, we’re super concerned but we have genuinely said all we can in that letter a little over a month before, so It didn’t feel right to say it again.
March she posts her “I said yes to the dress post” with Wills mom and his two sisters. She still doesn’t have any friends up where she lives so it makes sense for her to bring his family along. She didn’t message us about it, which is fair because we hadn’t been talking. We just thought they were getting eloped, because Greta has always said she wanted something small since she isn’t super close with her family (they’re not great).
So we left it there until last week I received an invitation in the mail to their wedding. Its this September on a Monday night.
Greta and I would have to pay around $500 each in order to even go to the wedding, calculating in airfare, shared rental car, shared hotel room, and that doesn’t even include, food, gas, wedding gift, etc. The two of us are not well of financially, we both live paycheck to paycheck so it would be really hard for us to go in general not to mention that the wedding is on a Monday night, so I have to take off extra days of work that I really don’t have. Same with my best friend, were in the same industry so wen have the same days off and all of that.
And I know it took us a while to get here but would we be the assholes if we decided not to attend her wedding?
TLDR: Best friend’s ex fiance tries to kill her in past relationship, she moves on two months later, her new partner moves in with her 3 weeks after dating. We go visit her and meet him, he’s go a lot of red flags, we tell our best friend, she distances herself and gets engaged weeks later. Invites us to her wedding in September that is also on a Monday. AWTA?

I haven't tried all of them, but I have tried a bunch.
Alien DNA: I played through to NG+ with this. The extra O2 is convenient...up to when you get Personal Atmo. The med and food impact isn't much of a trade-off. I'm really hoping they do something cool with this with full survival mode, though, as the concept is neat.
Dream Home: I tried this and realized that homes had no advantages over outposts. Now that you can decorate your ship, there's even less reason for this. They really should do something to make player homes unique, because right now this trait is just a money sink.
Empath: I haven't tried this one, even though I usually have companions.
Extrovert: I'm playing with this now. The extra O2 is nice enough. I would like to see it come up more in dialogue, though.
Freestar Collective Settler: I don't know that I ever noticed a better reward or a worse bounty. They really should call it out more on screen, IMO. Mostly I remember the dialogue in New Atlantis, but I don't think I tried a Ranger questline with this trait. Is it any better?
Hero Worshipped: AF is funny as hell in this game and is a pretty good companion. If he had a companion quest then he would be perfect. I highly recommend doing at least one universe with this guy. Just buy him a hat to cover that cut.
Introvert: I haven't tried this one because I like the companions. Plus, I play games to get away from reality. /jk
Kid Stuff: This is another trait that is really good on the first universe. The gifts can be quite nice, and hearing Tuvok and Kira act like your parents is really cool. They missed a huge cue, though, by not having them at your wedding. I could see eventually swapping this one out, though I haven't tried to see if an NG+ change things up at all.
Neon Street Rat: This one has more memorable impacts on dialogue than either FC or UC, IMO. It doesn't play well with Kid Stuff, though, as it implies in a few places that you grew up a street orphan. Of the various faction loyalties, I like this one the best.
Raised Enlighted and Raised Universal: I've tried at least one of these and hardly noticed any impact. Is there something you need to do to trigger something? I never even saw a chest.
Serpent's Embrace: Is this one interesting? It seems like it won't come into its own until Shattered Space.
Spaced and Terra Firma: Never tried either. The physical effects aren't that exciting, but is there interesting dialogue or roleplay?
Taskmaster: Any value here? It just doesn't seem that interesting.
United Colonies Native: I think I tried this one and found it the least interesting of the 3 faction backgrounds, but I don't remember much about it.
Wanted: I loved this trait until they patched out the ability to steal bounty hunter ships. Now it's just OK. It's most interesting when the bounty hunters show up when you're already dealing with something else. You can get a cool three-way fight or some other scenario that mixes it up a bit.
Which ones are your favorites? Which ones do you want to try?

French philosopher Jean Baudrillard once wrote about the effects of private telematics on the living subject (preferably metropolitan or suburban, like the majority of this sub and myself), and I've always found his account acutely prescient,

"today one's private living is conceived of as a receiving and operating area, as a monitoring screen endowed with telematic power, that is to say, with the capacity to regulate everything by remote control. Including the work process, within the prospects of telematic work performed at home, as well as consumption, play, social relations, leisure. One could conceive of simulating leisure or vacation simulations in the same way that flight is simulated for pilots [...] We know that the simple presence of a television transforms our habitat into a kind of archaic, closed-off cell, into a vestige of human relations whose survival is highly questionable."

Jean Baudrillard, The Ecstacy of Communication, 1987:88, pp. 17-8
As the sub is aware, the sharp decline in office occupancy in our downtown finds its immediate cause in the severity of the pandemic. I believe, however, that what is underemphasized in this reorientation is the total reconsideration of the logic of business communications that's happened. In an article about the history of office buildings, published by Morgan Lovell (a British firm specializing in interior office design), there is an idea of the administrative necessity of physical centralization. The article uses historical examples to undergird this point,

"Organisations such as the Royal Navy and East India Company were established to further Britain’s interests overseas. A central base of operations needed to be built to manage their incredibly varied tasks and organisation. East India House was built in 1729 on Leadenhall Street in the City of London as the HQ from which the East India Company administered its Indian interests. Thousands of employees were based in the building to process the necessary paperwork [...] Like the Roman politicians, The East India Company understood the necessity for centralised administration, and the efficiency this brought to what was essentially a process of making and distributing vast amounts of money. In this way, many non-political organisations followed suit – such as Sir John Soane’s Four Percent Office in the Bank of England, erected in 1793."

While centralized organization seems to remain essential for modern business, this centralization is growing less dependent (through contemporary technics) on a final site in three dimensional space, whose utility has always been founded on its ability to concentrate resources and information. Urbanists will (and probably already have) descend on the post-pandemic office landscapes of D.C. to articulate the rational blunder of such a monofunctional zoning schema, and why shouldn't they? Now is the most opportune time for advocating new zoning possibilities. It ought be maintained, however, that considering this downtown contraction to simply be the result of bad zoning, is incomplete. This development is only possible through the timely innovations of communications technology, which have engendered a change in what private telematics are good for.
Simply put, the local economy in this section of town was still too predicated on the necessity of the physical presence of labor-power, for work to ensue. For a long time, the purpose of communications tech was to close interpersonal gaps, lessening relational latencies between various 'nodes' in an organizational network. A filmic example of this would probably be something like Demon lover (don't watch this with children), where you have this mobile business class who use telematics and telephonics to compensate for the fact that their physical presence is not instantaneous; a phone call to Tokyo is followed up by a business trip, &c. Furthermore, they return back to their offices, and still conceive of their itinerary as beginning and ending in the office. Personal interface was still superior, mediated interface ameliorative. This state/conception of technology still works in confluence with a "presentist" mindset that values a physical center, hence the relatively high pre-pandemic occupancy, even with more complex informing networks.
The burgeoning logic constitutive of the continued lacking occupancy is one where telematics and telephonics no longer compensate for interpersonal latencies, but totally supplant a classic conception of presence, forcing a logical reconsideration of the utility of forced travel and physical convention. Perhaps, in the vein of Jean Baudrillard and Umberto Eco, telematics offers us something BETTER than the the real of classical presence, that being the variable hyperreal of omnipresence, of being here, there, and everywhere else by way of "remote control." One of Baudrillard's great themes is the demand of capital surpassing the limits of the real, and the terrestrial real of geography becomes, as Baudrillard would later write, a "vast, useless body." In summary, what has happened in D.C. since the pandemic is precisely another instance of a larger movement in media relations, which is the making-superfluous of physical spaces, redrawing new lines of relation for business and the social reproduction of the worker.

$AMRN
It’s hard to share so much about the story of AMRN, but we have to start somewhere.
Imagine you have a life saving drug, one that literally is like drain-o for your arteries. Cardiovascular disease is rampant, and little ‘ole biotech firm Amarin has been beyond bullied by BIG PHARMA, the FDA and these ridiculous hedge funds who continue to short this stock any chance they get.
Imagine the FDA making this little biotech company go through a trial, spending hundreds of millions of dollars on research and development, after years of the patent process, only to have a left wing judge decide (with no scientific background) that she can invalidate their patents in the US market, as the sole decision maker in the trial. We can talk about the poor choice of leadership in selecting Nevada, we can add onto the fact that Amarin’s attorneys were victims of fraud upon the court (see cropped table situation Du cited in her opinion).
Now the reality is the US market (revenues) has stabilized and still over 50%, the RoW (rest of world) is being approved brick by brick with exclusivity protection in Europe into 2039. The European and Chinese markets will now dwarf the expected revenues in the US for years to come.
Someone then look up activist investor Alex Denner, check out a bit further and you’ll see $100m invested in Amarin by Sarissa and why do you think that is? Alex understands how undervalued AMRN is and why he’s now the majority shareholder, with a plan to regain shareholder value. $1 now $12+ when he sells it (easy - way more if BRAVE study for alzheimer’s trial shows any hint of positive outcome).
Wall Street and Big Pharma hate this company/stock. BP controls some of these firms and their dirty work continues day after day. Rinse and repeat.
I’ve been invested in AMRN for over a decade. Who’s up for some payback if we all pull a GME on their asses?!
Fellow AMRN longs please feel free to add to this, our story has many more details to share.
$AMRN

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night. Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you can from right to left you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications. The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke that my Mom was cheating on my Dad. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.” I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory. My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you. I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess. BZZT.BZZT.BZZT. I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over. “Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.. “As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.” Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess. “She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response. “She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.” “For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction. The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there. “Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him. “Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus. The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps. James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide. “Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks. “Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it. “Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time? “It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?” “Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.” “Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does. “It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.” “I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.” “That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls. “It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!” Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus. “Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver. “I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!” “More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing. “You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line. “You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression. “Vaguely, what about her?” “She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door. “Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him. “I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.” James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes. “Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car. “It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth. “So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off. “They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.” “Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?” I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance? “We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?” She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder. “I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again. “Okay,” I say. She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird. “Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction. “Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?” “That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say. “Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it. “I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash. “Oh yeah? What color this time?” “I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.” “You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.” “Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.” “I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly. “Eager to create today, Abbi?” I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me. “Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal. “How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him. “Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.” “Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears. “No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.” Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me. “Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand. “Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.” My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me. “Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the semester, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.” I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair. “Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me. “Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him. “I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me. “She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?” “I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.” “Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon. “So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad. “I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.

The global hair restoration market is anticipated to exhibit a noteworthy compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of over 15% from 2021 to 2027, having been valued at USD 4.3 billion in 2020. One of the primary drivers of this growth is the rising prevalence of androgenetic alopecia worldwide. Additionally, the increasing consumption of tobacco and alcohol is projected to further propel market expansion. According to the most recent report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, approximately 14% of adults aged 18 and above reported smoking cigarettes in 2019.
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Market Opportunities:
The hair restoration market presents several compelling opportunities for growth and innovation. With technological advancements driving the development of more effective and minimally invasive procedures, there is a significant opportunity to meet the growing demand for non-surgical solutions. Additionally, expanding target demographics, including younger individuals seeking preventative treatments and cosmetic enhancements, open avenues for market expansion. The rising acceptance of hair restoration treatments, fueled by increased awareness and reduced stigma surrounding hair loss, further contributes to market growth potential. Moreover, emerging markets offer untapped opportunities, driven by factors such as rising disposable incomes, improving healthcare infrastructure, and evolving beauty standards.
According to the recent report published by RC Market Analytics, the Global Hair Restoration Market is expected to provide sustainable growth opportunities during the forecast period from 2024 to 2030. This latest industry research study analyzes the hair restoration market by various product segments, applications, regions and countries while assessing regional performances of numerous leading market participants. The report offers a holistic view of the hair restoration industry encompassing numerous stakeholders including raw material suppliers, providers, distributors, consumers and government agencies, among others. Furthermore, the report includes detailed quantitative and qualitative analysis of the global market considering market history, product development, regional dynamics, competitive landscape, and key success factors (KSFs) in the industry.
Browse the Full Report Discretion @ https://www.researchcorridor.com/hair-restoration-services-market/
Geographically, the hair restoration market report comprises dedicated sections centering on the regional market revenue and trends. The hair restoration market has been segmented on the basis of geographic regions into North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Latin America, and the Middle East & Africa. Hair restoration market estimates have also been provided for the historical years 2020 to 2023 along with forecast for the period from 2024 - 2030.The report includes a deep-dive analysis of key countries including the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Germany, France, Italy, China, Japan, India, Australia, Mexico, Brazil and South Africa, among others. Thereby, the report identifies unique growth opportunities across the world based on trends occurring in various developed and developing economies.
The Hair Restoration Market Segmentation:
By Procedure:

• Follicular Unit Extraction
• Follicular Unit Transplantation

By Therapy:

• Low-Level Laser Therapy (LLLT)
• Stem Cell hair restoration
• Platelet-Rich Plasma

By Region:

• North America
• Europe
• Asia Pacific
• Latin America
• Middle East & Africa

Prominent figures in the worldwide hair restoration industry include Venus Concept, Bernstein Medical, Bosley, The Harley Street Clinic, and Advanced Hair Studio. These companies are actively expanding their market reach through various strategies such as expansion initiatives, fresh investments, service innovations, and collaborative ventures. They are strategically venturing into new territories through expansions and acquisitions, aiming to leverage joint synergies to enhance their competitive edge.
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Key Questions Answered by Hair Restoration Market Report:

• Product popularity and adoption based on various country-level dynamics
• Regional presence and product development for leading market participants
• Market forecasts and trend analysis based on ongoing investments and economic growth in key countries
• Competitive landscape based on revenue, product offerings, years of presence, number of employees and market concentration, among others
• Various industry models such as SWOT analysis, Pestle Analysis, Porter’s Five Force model, Value Chain Analysis pertaining to Hair Restoration market
• Analysis of the key factors driving and restraining the growth of the global, regional and country-level markets from 2020-2030

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Media Contact:
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Hi, I posted a similar question but didn't get much traction so I thought I'd try again.
Budget is ~$1000 for now - this is for a body and 1 lens. Totally fine with used, just trying to maximize value per dollar. I'm wanting to start with a 35mm fast prime, or similar. Ideally the lens isn't too long because I would like to be able to slip it in a bag (or large coat pocket) easily.
Crop sensor or full frame are both fine but I figure for my budget it's gunna be crop. AF performance and low light performance is important to me, so IBIS probably is too, but not a deal breaker. No built in flash is also fine. Tilting or fully articulating screen is a nice to have, but not required. I take mostly street photography and portraits.
With so many offerings, the more research I do the more indecisive I get. If it helps, I love the styling of the Nikon Z FC, but the retro look isn't necessary. On the other hand, the Sony's are a bit ugly to me, but aesthetics isn't the primary goal here anyway. Performance and being relatively compact (mostly the lens - most bodies are decently compact it seems) are the primary considerations.
If I can provide any other useful details please let me know.