Hey guys,
I applied for the GC through marriage based, my husband is a US citizen and we recently got a RFE that we're not sure how to deal with.
Here's the case, my husband didn't make enough income in 2022 since he left his job that year, however he started his own business in 2023 and made enough income, we both together made 75k in taxable income from the business in 2023, however we sent the application before April so we ended up not using his 2023 taxes.
For safety, we used his mom as a joint sponsor, she doesn't work and she's retired (has SSA benefits, but not a enough), she makes 6 figures a year based on interest from the bank, long short story, her husband passed away in 2022 and left her with a good amount of money on the bank (around 3million USD), she lives of interest from this money on the bank.
I sent to USCIS as proof of income her just 2022 tax transcripts since she doesn't have income based on W-2s. They for sure sent us a RFE asking for proof of current income. I am able to get her 1099 INT from the bank and the bank statements, that's all we can provide. Is that enough? Does money made from interest classifies as assets when filling the form again? I am very confused in how to reply or if it would be safer get another joint sponsor (it isnt really a good option since we dont have anyone else).

[I posted it on jobs before, but posting in here as well to get more perspectives from recruiters]
hey yall. I applied a technician position to a very big annual local festival last April. On the application website, there was an option to choose a time for a shift, so I chose '12 AM ~ 8 AM'.
I got a phone call to arrange a time for the interview 1 week later, and had an interview. In the interview, everything went really good but in the end of it, they asked me what time is available for the position to me, then I answered the time slot I chose in the application website. Right after, the recruiters said the position is only available for 8AM~11PM. I was so confused when I heard it and immediately asked them then why they put the time slot for the position in the application page. They said they would look into the application page and promised me to send an email about it.
I waited for their email but 3 weeks later, I got the rejection email (typical 'decided to move forward with another candidate'). I sent them an email why they didn't reply me back regarding the time slot, but they still haven't replied back to me for 1 week.
Is it common a recruiter posted wrong information and rejected applicants because of it? I don't understand. I'd like to hear recruiters' perspective or experiences if it commonly happens or doesn't.

Absolutely love seeing these from others so thought I’d share our story a little and our timeline.
We were renting, had been here 5 years and in August of last year our landlord put our house up for sale and asked if we wanted to buy the house, we didn’t because she had it up for £100k and it needed at least £20-£30K of work doing. She told us she would sell to another landlord so we didn’t have to worry, then comes January we’d only had 1 viewing so far which nothing came from, but in January 2 viewings were booked, both first time buyers so we went into full panic mode as you can imagine. Offer was accepted from the FTB on our rented house 6/2) I went full crazy organised and:
7/2 - decision in principle for a mortgage!
7/2 - saw house on Zoopla
10/2 - first viewing, left a bit disheartened because it looked smaller than the pictures but spent over 2 hours talking about it falling in love with it all over again
13/2 - second viewing with the in laws to see what works were needed and any changes we could make were doable.
14/2 - offers put in, after a few back and forth offer accepted!
14/2-21/2 - solicitors contacted and instructed
19/2 - mortgage application put in
22/2 - MORTGAGE APPROVED
16/4 - searches came back
Had a lot of back and forth between our solicitors and the sellers solicitors, Agreed exchange for the 9th and completion on the 10th, this got changed to the 9th for completion due to the seller
9/5 - completion and we got the keys at 4pm!
Since the 9th we’ve been doing jobs changing locks, resealing the bathroom and some windows, prepping walls for painting and sorting getting the drive extended to half the front garden (doing all ourselves)
We did receive a section 21 on 25/3 ready to evict us 29/5 so we’re officially ‘moving’ into the new house 25/5 ready to get the rented place ‘end of tenancy’ cleaned so they can’t screw us any more than they have.
Edit: formatting.

I've been learning Svelte for three years. It is by far the best solution currently available. It doesn't unlock many job opportunities though, because tech companies build with what people know, instead of what is best. However, I stand behind my previous statement: Svelte is the best solution.
Here are a few tips I wish I knew before I learned Svelte.
Create a boilerplate fine-tuned and customized just to your liking. Keep it simple. Only include the basics that you are for sure going to need in the vast majority of your projects (e.g. auth, Tailwind CSS, component libraries, TypeScript, formatters, etc.). Something that abstracts the boring stuff, so that when you have a cool idea, you can just get straight to work on it -- instead of procrastinating.
Write messy code. When I began writing code in general, I always obsessed over making sure my code is clean. I gave up on hundreds of projects before I realized this key tip: It's either perfect, or it's finished. Since learning this, I now "finish" the majority of my projects. That being said, don't deliberately write messy code, just prioritize cleaning it up when it is less of a deal.
Focus on the fundamentals. Despite the allure of Svelte's simplicity and elegance, strong JavaScript foundations are crucial. Make sure you understand the underlying concepts like reactive programming and component lifecycle, as these are applicable across other frameworks too.

Note: The majority of this doesn't only pertain to Svelte/Kit but pertains to programming as a whole.

Does anyone in nyc have membership to BCA?
I have a 10 week old male.
The recommendations of one sponsor is necessary to support your membership application. A sponsor must have been a member of the BCA for a minimum of one year and have known you in person for at least 6 months. Please enter their name on the lines below and then ask the sponsor to fill out an on line sponsor form. If your sponsor is unable to complete their sponsor form on line, you can print one and give it to them to fill out and mail to the membership secretary. A link to this form is found below and or email the club for the link. No application will be processed without your completed application, payment, and the forms from one sponsor.

Hey I applied for pouching operator in frito lay and after 1 hour of the application I got this email:
Congratulations! You've met the minimum qualifications for the Pouching Operator; 428502 position in Bridgeview, Illinois. We’re reviewing your application now. You should hear back from us within 2 business days letting you know what’s next. Please save this email for future reference.
You may receive several more emails throughout the process so be sure to check your email often, including your junk/spam folder.
You can also check the status of your application, update your personal information, and review the job description at any time by clicking HERE.
Good luck!
Then after 2 day’s exactly I got this email:
Way to go ahmad!
You made it through the next step for the Pouching Operator position; 428502 in Bridgeview with Frito-Lay and Quaker.
The Hiring Manager is now reviewing your application. After their review, we’ll send you an email with the next steps in the process.
Good luck, Frito-Lay & Quaker Recruitment Team
SO MY QUESTION I’M I GETTING THE JOB OR NO??

Not sure if this is the right place to post this, but can someone help me figure out how this has to be filled out so basically a longtime friend of my parents moved out of state and left one of their vehicles here and has given it to us. No title has been transferred yet, but we are trying to purchase the plate sticker and the lady at the DMV gave me this sheet to have a filled out in order to be able to purchase a sticker without my parents friends need to be present at the DMV.

Hey Everyone!,
I'm reaching out for some guidance on landing a help desk job in Delaware. I've got my A+, and I'm working towards my Network+, but I'm also looking to gain real-world experience.
I've been practicing in my Homelab and feel pretty confident in my skills, but I'm hitting a roadblock with job applications, all asking for 2+ years of experience. Any advice or help you could share would be incredibly helpful. Thanks a bunch.
Edit: This is a repost since Mod's removed it for not having a location.

England - sorry, idk why the flair says housing, it's not letting me change it.
Keeping it short, I had received threatening messages from 2017-2021 from an anonymous person/persons. Reported thrice: 2019 (closed), 2020 (closed) no evidence apparently. Texts continued, I reported again (2021).
8 months later in early 2022 police raid our house at dawn, take all mine and my partner's devices. They said our IP had accessed the site used to create the email domain or something along those lines (we obviously didn't create the emails considering they'd been going on for ages but yes we obviously would have looked at the domain but I feel like that's a pretty normal thing to do). Partner and I interviewed separately for "perverting the course of justice". And no, emails were anon so nobody else got arrested in respect to them etc. Anyway, CID says devices will be expedited due to partners job (needs his tech) and we should hear in 7 months.
We moved, partner updated police of our address change. Both duty solicitor and criminal lawyer have said to both of us separately that they would be immensely surprised if they decide to charge since they aren't going to find anything incriminating on the devices (a good half of them were purchased after the "crime") and since I never accused any person as it was anonymous, and them putting the devices on expedited forensics, they said we could expect to see charges dropped very soon.
Anyway, 2.5 years later, still no contact. Partners solicitor checked a few times to no response, solicitors stopped replying to us as they apparently assumed it was just NFAed. I emailed the officer months ago, I think 6 or so months ago, and they said device forensics are all done but no decision has been made yet.
Really unsure what to do - duty solicitor no longer around and I'm a foreign national so basically I'm stuck in the country until the case is closed (leave to remain applications don't proceed if you have a pending charge so I can't get back in if I leave).
I'm starting to think this is getting ridiculous on the timescale front and it's just so frustrating and stressful. Is this timescale normal for a case like this? I made it VERY clear about my nationality so they very much do know the consequences on that front.
Absolutely any advice much appreciated!

Hello all,
So I am currently in my junior year of university and I have never had a real job before, aside from an after-school matters office job one summer. I help my family a lot at home so I haven't had time for a job, but now I do so I have been looking and everything requires experience. I saw online that there's a part-time job available as a beauty consultant at a JCPenney location near me that does not require experience, which is perfect because I love makeup/skincare and I don't have any prior experience. The only problem is I am having issues trying to fill out the online application due to a website issue.
Should I call them or go in-store and ask if they're hiring? Will they interview me on the spot? Are there any tips I should know to say if I get an interview? I guess I am just basically asking what to do to make me sound like I can handle the job since I don't have prior experience.
Thanks in advance!

I'm a little shell shocked, so I apologize if this doesn't translate correctly. I've spent the last 9 months in the application process, even years longer working to meet qualifications to serve.
I served in Americorps, so I was without a personal vehicle (or a substantial paycheck) for about two years. I cancelled out my liability vehicle insurance as a result. When I got home, I didn't have the money for the insurance right away. The week I was accepted for my PC term, I drove to a summer job interview, with the intent to buy insurance with my first paycheck. I got the job, luckily!
On the drive home, someone ran a stop sign at an intersection and hit my vehicle. My vehicle was totalled, and I received a 460 dollar ticket for lack of liability. Family drove me home, and that night when I caught my breath I emailed PC legal staff, disclosing the incident. This is the only legal issue I've ever had. They never replied. I was told by other PC staff that Legal replies if they need to, in their own time, and that with how busy they were it was best not to reach out and risk slowing them down further.
Months later, I still hadn't received clearance. Onboarding paperwork asked if I had received a ticket for over 300, so I said yes. I then called staff to ask about the ticket, and if there was any follow up paperwork needed. They found the email I sent and said, "oh, wow we should have replied to this email, sorry. Yes, we will send you the paperwork." I filled out the paperwork and sent it in.
A few weeks later, my application has been revoked, via email with no context.
I have emailed, asking if it could be appealed. If not, I've asked if I could still be eligible to reapply. My departure date is 20 days away. I've already done so much preparation, we've had a "going away" celebration. For others who have dealt with this, how did you move forward?

Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.

I help run a free tax center but I’m also a high school teacher. A student was telling me back in February that his 20 year old sister still hadn’t received her W2. Come to find out, she also didn’t get one last year “yet” and her boss had been giving her the runaround.
I advised her to continue asking him to provide these documents and he finally did, on April 13. Obviously I figured there would be some sketchy stuff and I was not wrong. First off, the 2023 and 2021 W2 was printed on the type of form paper that can be sealed with the perforated sides. The 2022 one was just on regular printer paper. I made her sign up for an IRS account so we could compare and sure enough, her 2022 data said her employer only reported about $5000 in income and no withholdings. The printout he provided reported $18,000 in income and $1,000 in withholdings (federal).
I’ve advised her to start looking for another job and offered to come up there and show her the documents in front of her boss, but she is helping to support her household and isn’t ready for a showdown. She also has zero records to compare to, as she received stub-free checks and cashed them, rather than depositing.
Should I report him myself? If so, where do I start?

hi. my application for kroger is still pending. this will be my first job. i've seen a lot of people getting fired for calling off, even from other companies. i was wondering if i was genuinely sick, will they fire me for calling off? when ever im sick, it takes me three weeks to get better. do they want us to still show up while spreading germs on customers items? what would i do if i was really sick?

Firstly, I’m not trying to shit on anyone I’m just genuinely curious if it’s like this everywhere, I work at a major brand store, 180-200 cars a month, 13 sales people, 3 sales managers (New, Used, GSM) the new and used car managers are ALWAYS in bad moods, no matter what, bring them a cake deal, bad mood, ask them for advice or to discount so we can get the sale, bad mood. It seems like they hate doing their jobs. To the point it’s effecting my, and others sales margins, deals that if we had discounted 500 more dollars the customer would have bought, I’ll give an example, I just brought a deal to my Used manager, $27k MSRP, customer wants to look at numbers, I show him OTD on AutoFi it’s 30 and some change, he says, “ oh no I can’t do that I see these cars on auto trader for $25k all day”, he shows me 3 of the same vehicle for 25 in Nashville I tell him, we can’t beat a price that’s 2 states away he insist he wants to buy local just not for $30k I tell him I’ll see what I can do, inform my manager he’s interested just not for 30 can we do anything to get him closer to 27 just so I can get rid of this car that’s been on our lot for 35 days, he prints a pencil with a 500 discount 29.5 OTD I bring it to the guy already knowing he’s a goner, dude laughs and says “really? That’s the absolute best you guys can do? I’m will to give you cash today” now, 25 is a crazy ask I get that, but 500 off is also a joke, the guy was wealthy and ready to buy, if we could have taken even 1k off it could have worked, we got the car in on a trade for 24k ACV I just feel like the attitude of my manager was “fuck this guy” so he didn’t even try to make the sale happen, I pushed and prodded offering our service package, 2 free oil changes , basically everything they tell us to say and he just leaves. After he’s gone I tell my manager and he says “call him and tell him we will do 26 sales price 27.5 OTD” like really? AFTER the guy leaves you give me some ammo to work with? Now I look like an asshole calling this dude after he’s already gone. Idk I’m new to this business so maybe they see something I don’t but I felt like if we worked a little harder it could have been a done deal.

[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]

Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 2 “Visiting Omen”

He had hoped for a boring day. Boring days are good at work, and Santos was already expecting to not have many of them for a while.
The first couple of days were boring, as usual- Blackriver is a small town, and the worst that had happened was Nila and Kessa making a few wellness checks after worried calls from neighbors. A couple of people in denial, a few ashamed at their own violent outbursts and a stern warning to Tamm about painting others’ properties without asking first.
This morning, however, began with an all-hands meeting. There were no meeting rooms in the office, so they made do in the general workspace room, they all stood there at the center while Keya looked them over.
“We have received a report from a neighboring city about a convoy of protestors making its way to Blackriver” she describes without tone. At this point nobody bothers interrupting.
“This convoy is comprised of approximately four hundred and seventy eight individuals of multiple species, primarily human and venlil but with operationally relevant representations of the entire spectrum of size and mobility types” her paws are behind her back, her ears focused directly ahead, her eyes centered to keep the entire team on the core of her focus “They have crossed multiple cities already, generally engaging in verbal sparring with any figure of authority, parading signs and banners denouncing all manners of authorities as well as occasionally engaging in physical altercations with officers.”
“They are also known to engage in vandalism. Though primarily aimed at exterminator and police precincts as well as public offices, they have already caused considerable collateral to others they have identified as ‘collaborators’” there’s a single heartbeat of waiting for breath before she continues “They have, however, not shown to be an incredibly organized group or one with a clear goal and objective. The convoy appears to contain only extremely emotionally charged people with no clear overarching goal.”
“We are incapable of dealing with the situation should they turn aggressive, as such we will be simply maintaining watch and relocating the populace should they become a problem.” Then, she picks up her holopad and passes it to Lunek beside her “They can only follow one path with the entire convoy, the central street, therefore I have divided it into four sectors. One of each will be assigned to a sector.”
First her ears turn to the first target “Lunek, sector one at the entrance. As the most approachable member of the precinct your task is to give an initial image of harmlessness. Do not engage first, do not take initiative against them. Ensure the members of the herd in the area are warned of their approach. If they become aggressive, retreat and focus on the escape of the herd.”
She tilts her head a little bit, turning her ears the other way “Marik, sector two. Mostly the commercial area, your task is ostensive protection to lower the chances of them initiating aggression. Whereas protection of the herd is first priority your second priority is ensuring Tenve’s Hardware Store as well as Sunbreeze Meals and Watchful Café remain capable of providing anyone whose residences become damaged.” suddenly, she turns her head entirely to face Marik “Ostensive protection means dissuasion, ensure that they know they are not under threat and as long as those specific areas are not engaged, do not provoke”
Next in her line of fire is Santos “As our human officer you will be in sector three, nearby the precinct. They are liable to become most agitated in this area and your presence may serve to calm them. You are not to engage, if deemed necessary the precinct’s materials are considered expendable, do not attempt to stop them”
“Sector four, the exit of town, will be with me to ensure that they have fully left Blackriver and will not attempt to turn back” then she tilts her ears again “Aren, you will gear up with a CCG and remain out of view range, your task will be quick emergency response should the need arise.” she then points her tail at the last three officers “Vess, your task will be to inform the herd and ensure a clear path for the convoy while Nila and Kessa will gather all of our medical supplies and set a staging area out of the convoy’s range. Organize ambulance assistance from Striped Hill and Everrain”
Then, she turns her ears around to focus each one in turn “As any attempt at aggression will end only in negative consequences, and in order to reduce the apparent levels of threat you will be unarmed. The estimated time of arrival is a third of a claw, ready yourselves and be at your post in time. Dismissed.”
“Not sure if I like or I don’t that we had the cold bastard right now” Aren says, as soon as Keya had left the room “Maybe we should move in closer when the convoy gets to sector four?”
“Probably a good idea to be nearby” Santos adds with a sigh “They might take umbrage with her demeanor, hopefully they won’t be set off too hard.”
And with silent signs of agreement all of the officers of Blackriver depart for preparations. The first ones to leave the precinct are the ones in charge of support, the two girls set off early to find someone willing to permit usage of their lawn as a possible impromptu field hospital and a little while later Aren leaves with a heavy CCG.
Slowly, the clock ticks to the appointed claw… And soon enough, Lunek can see in the distance the incoming omen of people. At first a distant line in the horizon, slowly the dark mark on the road coalesces into distinct shapes, the shapes of hundreds of vehicles slowly rolling down the road.
When the first few get close to the initial buildings of the main street, the entire convoy slows down. Their process of preparation is seemingly laborious, each vehicle houses multiple people at a time, smaller cars full to the brim, flatbeds with more people on their cargo space than can safely be contained, even buses conscripted for the effort. They carry with them signs, flags, a multitude of symbols as they dismount their vehicles and start spreading out to fill the street.
They seem to naturally form two distinct yet highly mixed groups, at its most distinctive is the pack of humans who keep a good distance from each other. But they are not alone in this group as takkan, mazic, yotul, zurulian and even drilvar form this central group. But flowing around them, not avoiding their presence but never infringing in their space is the grey mass of venlil, packed tight together, and mixed in there adding color to the monochromatic flux are krakotl, tilfish, sulean, iftali, sivkit and even a seemingly very confused duerten.
And at the very core of the moving group are their vehicles, which gently start rolling forward again as the group starts moving. Lunek simply waits, silently, by the side of the road, his ears attentively swiveling from one side to the other, expression having given way to function. Before the first of the convoy even arrives close he turns to the side, making a pointing sign with his tail. A woman who had been watching from her yard flicks her right ear and runs back inside.
He continues to wait, scanning around at all times for the presence of… Anything. The street is empty of locals when the first visitors start to alight. The convoy is loud, their symbols carry a loudness of colors and their vehicles make as much noise as they can to draw attention, but those who walk seem content in allowing their tools to speak for them, for now. Lunek tries to make sense of the banners and signs, but the messages are disparate as the group- Some speak of injustices against their people, some speak of anger at invaders, some speak of betrayal.
“Fuck off, fireman!” comes the harsh bark of a human, causing Lunek to flinch. But flinch is all he does, he simply starts walking alongside the moving convoy.
The exterminator’s attention is drawn to the details of the few people he can distinguish amongst the mass. Something tickles at his pattern-recognition but he cannot quite ascertain what for a while, until a lightly limping mazic makes her way to the edge of the mass “Want to finish the job?!” she trumpets, her form towering over his.
“I’m just observing, ma’am.” Though the tremor of his voice is noticeable, he remains stoic. But her proximity makes him notice something about her body, marks in her wrists, neck and feet. Though mazic have powerful wrists and knuckles upon which they support the front half of their weight, her left wrist seems completely incapable of it, giving her a limp particular to a three-point walk. “To make sure there’s no impediment on your path” he notices the leathery skin around her left wrist is deeply blackened.
“Oh, ‘no impediment’ is that it? So everyone that lives here is an impediment?!” her voice booms.
“Ma’am” still, he does not yield nor does he break his pace following the convoy “We have not done anything other than inform our people of your presence…” for a half second all he hears is the sound of his own heart “We can’t do anything else.”
Those words, then, sealed his fate. The first shout to echo in his direction was a yotul howling “Yeah you’re useless!” and soon the avalanche came in multiple voices and languages “Can’t do shit!” “You’re just here to hurt people!” “Useless crap!” “Idiot!” and many more.
With every step and twitch the very average exterminator puts all of his focus on just being there. He lets himself cower a little bit, against the barrage it is difficult not to, but he continues to accompany. A few curious coats step out from their houses to watch, but the front of the convoy seems far too focused on the sole exterminator in view to bother anyone else.
A few steps ahead, an older venlil with a cane has moved the closest to the convoy as any watcher has up to now. Seeing her proximity to the increasingly rowdy crowd causes Lunek to speed up, quickly approaching her “Leva-”
But his words are stalled when she puts a paw on his shoulder, she gently puts her head against his for just a second “You’re doing good pup, keep at it” she mutters to him before breaking contact and turning around to walk back inside. He can spy her grandchildren looking on through the door. Lunek looks back at the still-shouting moving convoy, takes a deep breath, and continues to accompany them forward. A small pawful of them, however, seem to have fallen silent.
Once having reached the limit of his assigned zone, however, Lunek stops. He watches the convoy move forward, past the houses, now noisier than before. The initial hollering at him had turned into disjointed screams at some indistinct foe- Though the herd had been noticed of a foe, it was yet unaware of who, or what, said foe was. So for now it howled at the ineptitude of… Someone. And as the last of the convoy passes beyond the imaginary line of his duty, Lunek lets out a deep sigh and allows himself to sit down on the ground.
He stays there for a moment, without thought, simply letting the tension, confusion and fear permeate his body until a gentle paw touches his arm. He doesn’t need to look to identify it, he lets his lover use her strength to prop him up, raising him to his feet “Keina you shouldn’t-”
“Neighbor’s looking over Tiss” his wife wraps her arms and tail around him “I’m not leaving you alone.” she stays like that for a second, before breaking off “Do you need to go after them?”
“No”
Marik stalks through the sidewalk, moving with energy. His speed outpaces the movement of the convoy, his paws twitch to grasp at something that isn’t there and a deep and intense motion makes his short fur stand on end. He had let the convoy’s head move in front of him, simply standing still as he assessed as many as he could in the mass, and now he had begun to move towards the front again.
As he stalked forward he focused his sight on every member of the convoy that seemed of interest. A human whose clothes seemed suspiciously loose, a venlil whose movements were far too stiff, a gojid who kept his claws behind his back. He stared at each like they were his quarry, analyzing every piece of movement they made for threats, and yet aside from the challenge in the human’s gaze he saw no danger arise.
Tenve had closed his shop, so as the convoy moved forward Marik simply continued to follow along, scanning the crowd for threats. But the next point of interest arrives, and he rushes ahead placing himself in front of the only restaurant of the town. Sunbreeze Meals wasn’t a very common sort of restaurant, Blackriver did not have enough visitors for a normal restaurant to be profitable and was small enough most people had their meals at home, it most often served takeout for those farmers who’d spend so long in the field they would return home without the energy to feed themselves.
Sparing a look inside at the only five tables, Marik couldn’t keep a small thought away from his mind. How most who got their meals from Sunbreeze these days did so because they enjoyed the cooking rather than their need of work, ever since the sunspeck population has been brought under control and the maintenance of the fields had become much smaller. He feels the presence long before he can recognize what led him to feel it and turns to stare at a group of six that approach the entrance: Two humans, a tilfish, two gojids and a takkan had broken off from the convoy and approached the restaurant.
He traces his color band over each in turn, and they all bristle at his stare. One of the humans hesitates before continuing to walk inside, and Marik simply remains by the door with his arms crossed, left ear twisted as far back as he could to listen to the inside.
“What have you got here?”
“W-we mostly ha-have ready ma-made meals to go or- or- Or you can look over the menu”
“There’s no need to stutter, y’know”
“So-sorry-”
“Really, after everything y’all are still with this predator crap?”
The chimes on the door echo for the second time in sequence as Marik makes his way inside. The tilfish had started to lean over the counter while the other five had arrayed themselves behind her. They all turn their attention to him as he enters, including the venlil manning the counter. Marik keeps his gaze directly on the tilfish for a few uncomfortable seconds, before looking at the man behind the counter and making a simple sign with his tail, a short vertical bob with the tip and a slow horizontal swipe. It’s meaning simple: >Safe<.
After a few seconds someone else appears from the kitchen. The tall venlil carries a large stack of plastic boxes in his arms, all of them seemingly designed to attach to themselves so as to be carried with ease. He puts them down with a resounding crash on the counter, and opens up his voice with ice “Farmer’s Pots, good meal when you’re working and can’t go home.” With each word the owner of the restaurant and main cook comes closer and closer to the tilfish, until the last “Ten credits each.”
Nobody moves for a couple of seconds, and then one of the humans steps closer and brings a holopad over to the credit reader. There’s a noise indicating payment, and then the owner raises his head and tilts it to focus his favored eye and both of his ears at the man who paid “Now,” he shifts register in his voice and the language he speaks in “fuck off” he finishes.
With no small amount of surprise the group of six retrieve the stack of packaged meals, carefully walking out and back into the convoy. Marik stays behind for a moment “Didn’t know you spoke human”
“Pup’s enamored with their languages. Of course, first greek words he learns is swearing.”
Outside, Marik stalks further ahead to the next point of interest. He moves faster than the convoy, and has time to move in front of it. For a few meters the street is still clear as he arrives to find a group of people standing in front of the Watchful. Standing there were all of its employees, and even all of its regulars, twenty people total standing there as if they were having the most normal day. If not for their raised ears tracking every noise coming from down the street and their swaying tails swinging about like angry beasts.
One of them simply points his tail at the other side of the street as Marik comes closer, and the hunter doesn’t need a second command to understand the meaning. They have this, he has a less practical but just as important duty. He crosses the street quickly before the convoy starts coming closer, and heads towards the park.
As the regulars of the Watchful had feared, it took little time until a large group had broken off from the convoy. With the town on alert about the convoy they had found themselves bereft of prey and now this group had set out to find some, anyone who might be willing, or not, to listen to their grievances. And what is clearly a place designed for people to congregate looked most appetizing.
Marik shadowed the group as they moved through the park, but they were accompanied by nothing but silence. It wasn’t until they ran into the centerpiece of the park that he took initiative, stepping ahead of the group and simply… Standing there a distance away from the tree of many scions, between it and the group.
“What’s so important over there, fireman?” it was a venlil who asked, but his usage of an english word was not lost on Marik.
“A place you will respect” the exterminator has his arms crossed, the one good portion of his gaze set on the man who asked “This is a grave.”
Though the group that now prowled was large, those who heard were taken aback. One such, however, approaches closer. He was a venlil whose fur shifted between a soft, brownish color and a dirty white “A tradition of the tenets right? One of those family trees?” The man would have been distinctive in any other group due to his missing patches of fur around neck, wrists, even portions around his head. But such signs of long term damage were common in the convoy.
Interest. They had shown true interest, or at least one of them had. “No, but similar… The forgotten tree is a grave for the forgotten.” He felt like these people, at least the ones before him, could probably understand the meaning of this place “It is of no tradition. Someone, a long time ago, wanted to honor someone who was gone but whose name was not meant to be remembered. Someone who had disappeared in the system… So they borrowed on another’s tradition, and added a scion to this tree, with something in their memory. Others have done so similarly, until it became… A grave for the forgotten”
“Didn’t think you’d be worried about this kind of place” it’s a human that speaks up this time
“Our duty is to protect this town, what you think-” but Marik’s words are interrupted by that same venlil who had asked before. His demeanor suddenly shifts, his ears perk up and his entire body shifts forward for a moment. He hesitates, for a second everyone’s focus is on him, and then he runs towards the tree.
Marik follows behind, stopping just by the man’s side as he finds himself at the base of the tree. The man makes a direct line to somewhere, something he had found from the distance, as if it had called him. He finds a thick and heavy branch that had been bent down by the weight of its scions and memories, near its base and speaking of a memory left behind long ago is a braid of fur made of three colors, a dirty white, a soft brown and a dark grey, bound by the braids are two beads.
The man raises up a paw, but does not touch it. As if cradling it, he recites the words engraved in one of the beads “I will cross every star to return home” others have come closer to listen to the man’s hoarse voice “There will always be a home for you” he reads of the second one. The names on the beads have been scratched out. The man falls on his knees “S-she kept her promise and… I couldn’t keep mine…”
Marik steps back as he watches two others come closer to comfort the man. He looks as a few others approach with more caution, looking up at the tree with a bit more reverence than they had before. Then, he turns around and starts heading back towards the main street.
Gazing out as the convoy gains a new flux, some leave it as it passes to move towards the park while others leave the park to rejoin the convoy, Marik simply stays there at the side of the street looking as stern as he could. Though the noise of the convoy remains great, here in this portion it seems to die down a little. A thought crosses his mind as he turns an ear as far back as he can, a thought he can’t help but voice “I wonder how many are looking at their own graves…”
As the convoy progresses, Santos simply stands by the front of the precinct, hands in his pockets. He watches the convoy arrive, heart beating fast, constrained hands the only reason he hasn't started shaking quite yet. He starts tapping his right foot as he watches the first few people cross by without noticing what this place is yet, everyone knows where the precinct is, so aside from the words printed on the sign by the entrance there is no other marker of what this building’s purpose might be.
Of course, it is impossible for nobody to notice. The entire convoy seems to stop as soon as a zurulian riding on the shoulders of a human points a claw at the building and says something. A large group breaks away at the command, all of them holding disparate signs and messages. They turn on the building with enough roars that whatever they are attempting to transmit is lost on him.
Santos is thankful his hearing isn’t nearly as good as his coworkers’, as the cacophony is already overwhelming him. He changes stances slightly, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. This prompts a small group to turn their looks at him, the focus easily identifiable with the humans in their midst, focus which made the hair in the back of Santos’ neck stand on end. Living in this place had refined his sense of danger, but he didn’t need that to realize what could happen.
It was a group of five that approached, four humans and a venlil. “Didn’t think they’d be letting humans live out here in the boonies” said one of his kin.
Santos just shrugs “Got hired to work here. Honestly, rural folk get a needlessly bad reputation, most of the time they just don’t care as long as you’re not bothering them”
“Really? In my-”
Santos interrupts the man “Cut it out” there are many ways in which humans make themselves obvious, many of which are their eyes. Santos did understand the fear of them and why it was primal, it was not the fear of the eyes but the fear of attention, it was knowing you were under the scrutiny and judgment of another that set off that emotion. It was rarely the eyes that showed this attention for most species, but for humans it was, and the man’s clear gaze on his badge made the entire situation clear to him “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”
Someone else is who speaks. The tall woman starts not with words, however, but by spitting on Santos’ uniform “You fucking traitor” her voice is both fierce and cold at the same time. A very emotional coldness.
“There we go” he sighs “Just… Move on. We’re not getting anything out of this conversation”
“Why?” It was the venlil in the group that started this time “These people hate you, they hate you for what you are! Why do you work for them?!”
Santos rubs his eyes and sighs “Because someone has to. Change only happens when you make it happen, simple as that”
“Change?!” another one of the humans howls “Do you think those people can change?! You know the truth, those fuckers have never done anything good!”
“You know, if you had read your history books…” Santos stares at the one who had just had their outburst “You’d remember that we once thought the very same about the police” there’s the sound of glass breaking, but he doesn’t reaction “And a lot of us still do”
The human staring him down shifts their gaze slightly at the broken window of the precinct, then back at Santos “A broken window is easy to fix” he shrugs “As I was saying. Same shit.” he crosses his arms again “There’s a role those people play, a role that needs to be played because it’s important. Different name, different problems, still the same shit. Gotta fix this, I’m doing my part” he then stares at the venlil in the group “You do yours. Simple as that.”
“Role?!” the venlil of the group steps closer “What role could they possibly have?! They only exist to hurt people!”
Santos steps back, and raises his eyes a little bit. Of course, the classics had shown themselves in this instance. With as many humans as there are in the crowd there were now quite a few objects in the air, most clearly aimed at the precinct behind him. Though given the failed arc of some of them it was clearly not just the humans indulging in such a tried and true method.
“I used to be a wildlife preserve ranger” Santos then focuses his gaze on the aggravated venlil “This is a frontier town, if you walk in the brushes with shorts you’ll walk out with your ankles numb. The athai out there are rather harmless, but they keep the sunspecks under control.” He takes another step back “Since coming here I’ve been pest control, had to catch an exotic animal set loose, investigated a murder, helped stop a child from taking her own life, stopped large scale fights, helped a dozen people avoid being arrested for self defense and helped break a fucking siege”
Santos cracks his knuckles “There’s roles. Jobs that need done and there is one fucking organization doing it all. That is a problem.” Then, he sighs and takes a few more steps to the side, offering indifference from this point on “There’s nothing I can say that would make you calm down.” he says one final time “Just make sure not to injure yourselves in the process, alright?” His words seemed to be enough to make the small group cease trying to interact, as the convoy had begun moving again. Though the one human who had called him a traitor gets one final parting shot at the precinct “Where the hell did you get an egg in this planet…” Santos says with a raised eyebrow as the projectile impacts the front door.
Keya stands by a large sign, the same one that welcomes you into Blackriver on one side and sees you out at the other, the official limit of the town. Her arms behind her back, her attention directly towards the front of the convoy as they march. Something gains the whole of her attention, the car in the front. Someone draws her focus, a human with a megaphone on top of the car. The man shouts words of encouragement at the people behind him with the megaphone before turning to his holopad, then he bends over downwards to discuss something with the driver.
She simply remains there, waiting for the convoy to pass. But instead of moving on out of the city, here the convoy stops completely. Keya observes as the further end of the convoy starts to slowly compact upon itself, and her ears pick up something “Alright everyone, start getting ready, next town over is more than a claw away, make sure you’ve left nothing behind” the words were not meant for her, nor for anyone too far. They come from the same man she had seen standing on top of the car, but he had now climbed down and was talking with a group of multiple species.
It is clear they have some degree of leadership, though the convoy does not stop cleanly nor does it begin to organize with alacrity they do respond to the group’s organization. So Keya keeps her focus on them as they point, wave and talk between themselves, others and devices. But at least one of them has noticed her attention, a gangly and light-skinned human with fire-red hair, the man that was atop the car. He starts walking in her direction, before turning around for one final set of commands as he walks backwards “And make sure the guys at the back got all the crap! We’re here to be heard, not to trash the city!” he says before turning back again to head towards her. A venlil with pure white fur erupts from inside the car he was riding, quickly dashing to his side as they notice where he was going.
In a few moments both have come up to her, the human looking down at her with the venlil bristles at his side “Saw anything interesting, fireman?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What? Isn’t it obvious?!” it was the venlil that roared a response “You saw all of it! You know what they’ve done to us! What they’ve done to everyone! And you still work for those brahking monsters! It’s like you’re thankful they made you a cripple!”
The human puts a hand on the venlil’s shoulder, calming her demeanor just a little bit “We’re here because honestly, we’re all too tired of being fucking ignored is what. So what the fuck are you gonna do?!”
“I have put the wrong emphasis” Keya says with her lack of tone. She can see the human shiver just a little bit “My task is to ensure the safety of this town. Your convoy is a danger. We have eight field-capable officers, we cannot ensure the safety of the residents against a group like yours. People will take actions for reasons, you have broadcast your reasons clearly. You have chosen this place for a reason which I cannot ascertain.”
She makes sure her ears are trained towards both the human and the venlil, an action which causes the venlil to cower behind her partner “We do not house government agencies. This is a farming town of little note. The local precinct is a simple precinct, we have no regulatory or command authority. The town population is approximately double that of the number of your convoy. We have no individuals of appreciable social or political reach. There is nothing in Blackriver of interest to people attempting to change government policy, nor have there been actions taken here that I can identify as being cause for retaliatory actions within the context of your message.”
“I must ensure this does not happen again and the only way of doing so is minimizing our attractivity as targets. A logical assumption of your choice of quarry would be a town with the presence of politicians, a large city with constant news coverage, cities housing important government agencies or those containing the Regional Firebases”
“So I ask again. What are you doing here?”
The two remain silent for a few seconds, before the human turns around with a mouth noise “Whatever, I don’t need to explain myself to someone that won’t listen. Come on!” he starts to stalk back towards the car, but stops once he notices his venlil companion wasn’t moving.
The snow-white venlil has their focus on Keya, who offers a simple low forward swipe of her tail, a sign to proceed. Still, the venlil seems frozen in place until the human comes back and grabs hold of their paw with a gentle touch. At which point both finally return to the convoy.
Keya remains at the side of the road, watching as the convoy readies itself again to leave. People get back inside cars, they hop on the back of trucks and load themselves into buses. She continues to watch as the convoy takes its time riding out, making their way out of the town.
Once it is finally gone, multiple footsteps sound behind her. When she turns around she meets her officers, having returned from their assigned positions “They have left. I expect your reports of what happened in each sector by the end of your shifts” she states plainly, before looking at Santos “They did not appear to have a specific reason for targeting Blackriver.” The question remains unspoken.
The human officer just shrugs “Sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing. We’re just a little town, I doubt they even know what exactly they’re angry about.” He looks at the tail end of the convoy as it leaves “Town was probably just a place they felt safe going to.”
“D-do you think we might get more like that” Lunek says, at the back of the group.
“Who knows…” Santos sighs “But if human history applies anywhere here… This is just a sign of worse things to come”
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
And thus the omen passes by. Feelings, emotions of all sorts, without a plan or a reason other than just their own rage and distress.
Did any of these even know what they were doing? And how much worse can it be when they do?

why is it so hard to make friends?
m19 here from (still in) maryland, and lately i've realized how lonely I am, lmao. I have my hobbies and stuff but yet, I'm so lonely, i have one friend, who's been my friend since middle school, he's my bro. but i realized i legit have no friends..or a friend like me, here's some points I've seen/made 👇🏾
° fake people: there's too many fake people in the world today, worried about “worldly” bull crap or something stupid, wanting to be in drama, coming to you, then completely ignoring you or ghosting, I find it fake, sorta bummy and immature. people don't know the definition of a “friendship” or a “very close bond” like i'm gonna stick beside you no matter what, people don't seem to get that, then play victim when you call them out. people will use you, talk poorly of you, do all things wrong, i can't stand that. which is why i enjoy being more of a loner..i hate fake friends and i am not no fake friend, im sorta clingy
° people have weird interests/and are boring: this is, i guess controversial, tough one? but people have their interests but i've met some people (school/outside) that's into some weird crap, pronouns for one, i dislike folk whose interests are gender crap, not much into anime honestly, i do love harry potter though. i find a lot of people boring and never knowing how to have a conversation, never wanna be like “come over and chill, or let's watch a horror film” or anything like that, i've always wanted a male friend to explore stuff with, let's ride our skateboards around and learn tricks/let's ride through the night, i'd love to explore abandoned places honestly, guess i'm more of an that “emo boy that's always up to something”. i also love a childish person, stupid jokes/pranks are always the best, where's the trustworthy people who'd wanna skate all night and go to a pizza joint and chill at each other places all night watching horror films, (and i love horror. anyone seen the movie terrifer? the conjuring? house of 1000 corpses? lords of salem!!) talking about whatever, even deep conversations all night with pizza. play video games with me if you'd want, im a console player, i enjoy my xbox, we can facetime and play stupid stuff or id come to you and chill. who still plays minecraft lmao, im a huge lover of the grunge, skateboard theme, nighttime themed things, yeah i'm a slytherin 🐍. i can't find people like that. also, any other song writers out there? i love making my own music, rock is dope but it depends on the rock..
° bad places and everyone is untrustworthy/ghetto: i grew up in the hood, not to be prideful but it's sorta easy to see through people and know when stupid crap is going down. it's hard finding friends like you in the area you live in. this goes along with fake friends cause people are fake, users, and ghetto af. like what the hell? i mean like dude, if I'm your friend, i mean that, im not gonna use you for money or betray you for some chick or whoever. people don't seem to get that. i also find it stupid how guys, other males are such simps for women and will completely throw you under the bus for a woman, women do the same with men, it's fake af.
° i hate people/large crowds/groups: this i feel like a lot of people can relate to. i absolutely hate people and not on a “woke" level, but on a “people do too much” level, yes people do too much and they always deny that they're doing too much. i hate big groups, because they always fall, which is a heartbreaker dude..it can be 4 of us, then 3, then 2, then none. i've always prefered a group of 3 or just one guy and myself. this gonna sound weird but i've always wanted a male friend, a guys guy really. i don't really go to skate parks, cause it's usually to many people, doing the most per usual, like there's one by the baltimore harbor, i'd rather go at night due to the amount of people there during the day. it sounds cheesy but i hate people. i really do.
° no one has my interest: this is the same as people having weird interests, but this is true. no one has the same interest as me, and i hear that people with the same interest are the ones that argue a lot, fall apart quickly, or just can't get along, i don't know how true that is entirely. but that's where the communication falls in, talk to me man. if there's an issue, open your mouth! don't be a pussy and keep it to yourself and talk poorly of me and hate me. that's not right, it's wack and lame af. people who do that really need to get themselves in check. like again, i love horror, i love the hell out of horror, its all I watch, anyone here watch mr.nightmare ? on youtube, also people enjoy stupid stuff and stay indoors to much. i get it, being in your space in your smelly room is cool and all, it's america, we hate it here, but personally i think there so much more, like I said I love night time stuff, abandoned houses/churches/stores, etc, i'm always down for it all, guess it's my emo horror obsession haha. anyone want to work and save up money together? where's the people like that who wouldn't steal your money, and dip off, like we save and use it for stuff like pizza, new skateboards, deep woods campfires and outings man. spending the night at each other's place, sneaking into spots! and one thing, building each other up, im the type to help you out, if you feel bad or something, let me know and id help, I know depression runs through a lot of people, and if I had that friend that in looking for in gonna be there, no matter what. that's just the kinda person I am, not satanic lol, just..emo? or grunge? i don't know..
° no one is loyal/have bad families/too sensitive: this is a tough one but im just gonna say it. people aways hated that I have no filter, not that I have a nasty mouth and I always have to put my opinion in stuff, i'm more so very quiet. i also have a dark sense of humor, im black, so i definitely do say racial jokes, not as a insult, but a little humor or whatever. dark humor is always the best. but i have no filter, i'm gonna tell you the truth of what it is, what I enjoy, what I hate, just point blank period, and people hate that, i'm nor gonna sugar coat anything! a true friendship circles and stays strong through truth and open words, if you can't handle that, something is honestly wrong with you fr. families, now. i won't judge you for having a bad home, but what i mean is, completely putting all that, that's not your responsibility in the way. i did that once, as an older sibling, i believe younger siblings aren't no one's responsibility, i once canceled plans to “watch and take care” of siblings when their old enough to watch themselves, which i regret. if you're having a bad time, you always got me there. which falls into loyal, people aren't loyal. which is basically people are fake. im a longterm friendship kinda dude. you're my homie, just like that.
° finally, judging and redflags: i don't judge at all, ask ill tell, but I don't judge at all. I don't see a point? none of us is perfect, so I don't see a point, saying what you feel is different than judging fr. same with redflags, guess mines would be im clingy 😂 i love clingy people as well, im not sure. but red flags falls into the same with, people do too much, people are fake, and users. and it amazes me completely how someone will use you, for however long, then completely ditch you in the end, or when you're caught, times get rough, or something like that. I really really hate that and that's what destroys friendships. don't really care if someone is clingy.
guess that's all, i think friendships in 2018-2024 are absolutely awful, and I hate that so much. there's no one else around really, like what the hell 😂 and still today, no friends. i be hoping i can find someone like me, like if you'll be there forever man mean that and stand on it. i think the future of friendships will die out honestly. no one can trust each other, no one can spend nights no more, go out, or anything..im not into politics, I don't care about presidents or anything, nor money, I need it, I know, which is why I'm still job searching, I just think there's more to a friendship besides money, arguing, drama, stupid stuff. that's it from me i guess 😂 just a lil rant since I joined this group. show me your skateboard, songs and favorite bands! mines is behemoth and a few grunge ones.. hopefully id find a friend ..

I screwed up, I only applied to an ML master's at 3 competitive schools (partially because of my poor health at the time) and I only made the waitlist for one. I'm wondering what I should do next. I have already taken a year off school to develop my profile. I graduated from my undergrad with a 3.88/4 and I now have a publication in press (minor but first author).
I feel that as time goes by my profile is worsening. I had to resign from my job as a developer around the time the applications were due because of my poor health. It was a dead-end job which somehow did not leave me with many transferable skills. So instead of struggling to find a job in the market, I made a bad decision. I figured I could make a living tutoring and freelancing (not really tech-related) until September.
Around the time I resigned from my dev job, I elected not to join my PI at a T50 school because I thought I wanted to change subdisciplines. Another big mistake. I am hoping that PI will be willing to make me an offer again for next September as we are still on good terms. But I need a plan for the time being.
Currently, I'm thinking of trying to get a job in tech. The problem is that my skillset is a little niche, and I am underqualified for most ML jobs so it will be hard to get anything in this market. But I see no other good way to maintain a competitive profile for admission to grad school. Alternatively, I could apply to a lower-caliber school whose applications are still open. I'm just a bit reluctant because I feel it would be a bit of a waste. Any suggestions are appreciated.

If an employer posts a job for, say, IT Manager, Cloud Security Engineer, Information Security Analyst, etc., and you take the time to read the qualifications to see if you’re qualified, revise your resume, fill out the application and submit, you get an email three days or so later stating “We’re moving on with other more qualified candidates.” WHAT THE HELL??
And then it goes quiet for a few days, and all of a sudden, a recruiter calls you about an opportunity that pays $50k less than what you were making. And then they ghost you. And then another recruiter calls you and the interview goes well, and then they fucking ghost you!!
WHAT ARE THESE COMPANIES LOOKING FOR? If a position needs to be filled, and you qualify for it, and you’re qualified, and apply,….you’re e all of a sudden not qualified enough… this shit makes no sense..
I need to work and I’m VERY qualified for the above positions I’ve just named…

I did an online expedited passport application through FedEx/“Rush My Passport” - I printed out all the docs from my app (also paid $209 for expedited delivery as I lost my passport and have to travel at the end of June) and took them to a local FedEx office. They seemed to have zero idea of this passport partnership and were so NOT helpful.
I gave up and just got my pic taken and will try another FedEx office on Monday. Any tips? Are the employees seriously not trained on the services they are supposed to provide?
I could feel my inner Karen coming out and just left without accomplishing anything besides my $16 photo.