1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

I am NOT the Original Poster. That is u/JazzlikeOriginal358. They posted in AmItheAsshole
Trigger Warning: discussions of transphobia
Mood Spoiler: moving in a positive direction
Original Post: March 22, 2024
I'm having a bit of family drama and need a reality check about if I am being unreasonable here. I really need the perspective of LGBT+ sensitive individuals because the drama surrounds transphobia perpetrated by JK Rowling.
My step daughter is going through a pretty tough time. The last couple years have been really rough on her. She has been dealing with bullying at school, being held back a year, not getting along with her mom's new husband, self harm and identity issues. Lots of questioning of her sexuality and gender. (We have been working on getting her a good mental health team of doctors and therapists to help her navigate all of this, please know we aren't throwing her to the wolves or internet to deal with it all herself).
I've been in her life since she was 7. We've always had a pretty good, though not terribly close, relationship. I have not taken on a parental role, but have always tried to make myself available for her.
Until last year, her mom had primary custody and her dad had weekends with alternating holidays. Last year due to the issues with her school and mom's house, my stepdaughter requested that custody arrangements be changed.
Since she came to live with my husband and I full time, there has been quite a bit of friction between the two of us. One of the biggest points of contention is my Harry Potter fandom, particularly "The Bookcase", and my supposed transphobia (due to my apparently "wrong" stance when it comes to the politics regarding trans issues in our country)
I grew up in the hayday. So many of my childhood and teen memories are tied to the franchise. My friends and I were all really into it. We attend midnight book releases, dressed up in costume for movie releases, threw HP themed parties when we wanted to hang out, etc. In many ways it shaped the course of my entire life, those same friends and I joined our high school's botany club because herbology. That unlocked a lifelong passion of mine and my career is working with plants.
Over the years I've collected quite a bit of memorabilia, many of which are gifts, and they have always been displayed on my most prized possession. A monstrously large custom bookcase my grandfather, a former woodworker, built for me when I was a teenager. I love this thing. The shelves are live edge black walnut slabs. All around the casing my grandpa carved beautiful HP themed imagery. Owls, cauldrons, shooting stars, lightning bolts, an adorable little rat at the bottom and nibble marks from said rat, etc. It's both sentimental and valuable (the slabs of walnut for the shelves alone would be pushing a grand, let alone attempting to value the hand carved craftmanship). The bookcase has always been proudly displayed in my home. It currently lives in our living room.
During one of our family therapy sessions, my stepdaughter expressed that seeing my HP shelf made her feel really uncomfortable because of the author and that she was really disappointed in me and her father for being so supportive of a biggot. I apologized for making her feel uncomfortable in her own home, and said that I would take down the HP stuff.
So I packed up all the HP themed merch off the shelves. Made sure I didn't have the books or anything on display that said "Harry Potter" anywhere. I bought some LED grow lights and converted the bookcase into a plant shelf to display succulents. I bought some witchy, but not overtly harry potter, themed pots for the little guys so they'd go with the shelf.
This was not an acceptable compromise for my stepdaughter and has remained a point of contention. With my stepdaughter hurling that I/we (referring to my husband) broke a promise by saying we would get rid of the Harry Potter stuff. I tried to explain to my stepdaughter that, while I do not agree with JK Rowling's political stance at all, the media has a special place in my heart because of my childhood association with it and that the shelf was very important to me because it was a gift from my grandpa, but she maintains that none of that should matter because in 2024 it is nothing but a symbol of transphobia and hate.
At first my husband was supportive of me and my desire to keep my bookcase, but lately the arguments are wearing on him and he asked me if I would reconsider keeping it in the living room. Suggesting we rent a storage unit to house it in.
After the most recent blow up about it, I kinda lost my temper. I didn't yell or anything, but I did very firmly tell my stepdaughter that this is my home and my bookshelf stays. If it is such a big problem for her, she can always go back to live with her mother.
I knew it was a low blow pretty much as soon as I said it. I quickly apologized but it was out there. My stepdaughter has been on an emotional downward spiral.
My husband and I have been arguing almost nonstop. I think it is mostly stress because he is at his wits end with how to help his daughter but he is becoming pretty mean and nasty towards me. Telling me to "grow up and just get rid of the fucking bookcase"
I know I was a dick for saying my stepdaughter could always go back to live with her mom (and I suspect that will be the main topic at hand in our next family therapy session).
But am I really being unreasonable in wanting to keep my beloved bookcase?
EDIT: Thank you everyone. Honestly. Thank you for those who shared their insight and advice and thank you to the people who have asked me hard questions that made me think. Especially those who asked what matters more, a bookcase or a/my child?
I've been reflecting really hard on what my bookcase means to me an why it is so important. I'm hitting some deep truths I don't think I was ready to recognize about how I really feel about my relationship with my step daughter.
All in all I think we just need to shelf things until our next therapy session. (I'll see myself out...)
Relevant Comments:
Commenter: Can you temporarily put it in storage until she’s off to college, then take it back out? That way it will be safe, and everyone can take a deep breath and calm down a little.

OOP: I looked into storage units when my husband suggested it, for the size and climate/humidity control we would need it would cost us approximately $7,500 to store my shelf until she goes to college.
It's cost prohibitive.

Commenter: Why can't you just move the bookcase into the primary bedroom?

OOP: It's 7' x 4' x 1', made of solid wood, and we have a L shaped stair case.
The only way it is going upstairs is if it is completely dismantled and rebuilt. I don't have the skills, knowledge or tools to do that and hiring out a task like that is cost prohibitive especially because it would have to be done again when moving the bookcase back out.

Commenter: NTA. You need to put that bookcase in a room with locks, because your husband is going sell it or damage it.

OOP: My husband isn't an emotionally unstable monster. I don't believe he would ever do anything like that to me. I wouldn't have married him if he was that kind of person.
(to another commenter): I have absolutely zero concern about my husband doing anything to it. He isn't that kind of person. He is incredibly stressed out about all of this and has said shitty things in anger but this isn't some tv show where he and my stepdaughter are going to have daddy and daughter bonding time with a sledge hammer.

Commenter: I think he was just frustrated and worried about his daughter. Hopefully you can talk it out with him and he will apologize for the "grow up" comment.

OOP: That is my impression in regards to him too.
I can't imagine how hard it must be to see your child suffering and not being able to fix that pain.
I've been doing my best to give him grace due to the circumstances.
It is something we will address when he has the spoons to do so.

Commenter: One question: who owns or rents the house you are living in? If it is yours you can suggest that your husband move out and get a place of his own to his daughter liking

OOP: My husband and I purchased it together. We are both on the mortgage.

Commenter: Then time to figure out who stays, who goes, and how the equity...if any...is split.

OOP: I don't intend to divorce my husband and throw away a decade plus long relationship because he said one shitty thing to me during a period of great stress for him.

Commenter: If he destroys the bookcase to show solidarity with his daughter, what will you do?

OOP: Have him pink slipped.
That is not the action of a reasonable adult. I would be very concerned for his mental state.

Commenter: I wonder if she made similar unreasonable demands in her mother’s home or at school that lead you to the conflict there?

OOP: Part of the issues with her homelife with her mother involved my step daughter demanding that her mother choose between her now husband and her because mom's husband's political views.
So, this isn't exactly left field behavior.

Commenter: Your stepdaughter needs a massive reality check and probably different therapists.

OOP: oof. We are on our 5th

More on therapy:

Yes. She meets with a psychiatrist as well as her therapists.
(to a different commenter) We are in family counseling already. Couple's counseling is likely to happen if there isn't a resolution to this current bookcase issue in the very near future.

Commenter: Info needed: what is your ‘wrong stance’ when it comes to trans issues?

OOP: I'm kinda middle of the road when it comes to the trans political issues, and mostly take the stance of "I don't know, I have my own feelings about the issues but as it is not my area of expertise I am not beholden to them and I will leave these big problems up to the people who have made learning about them their focus of study"
Like, I get my feathers ruffled when medically uneducated politicians try to interfere with any kind of health care. Like seriously ruffled.
I believe that people facing gender identity issues should have free and easy access to health care and therapy to navigate those issues.
I believe that society in general should strive to use preferred pronouns if only as a matter of politeness.
But when it comes to things like trans people in sports or having afab only "safe spaces" - I see both sides of the argument and refer back to my "I think this should be left up to the people who focus on this and not form a super strong opinion either way based on my lay opinion"

OOP is voted NTA
Update Post: May 12, 2024 (1.5 months later)
Some one asked if I could update this situation, and I'll try my best to summarize the past several weeks.
My husband and I spoke about the situation. He apologized for being snappish with me, and agreed that SD was being unreasonable about the bookcase. He ultimately agreed to back me about it. He and I are just as tight as we ever have been.
I once again apologized to my SD for the remark I said out of frustration about her moving back with her mom. I reiterated that our home is her home too and she is always welcome here. That even though families sometimes fight and disagree we ARE family.
But the general argument about HP, JK Rowling, and my bookcase continued to escalate for a couple weeks. And then the discontent about that started to bleed over into complaints about me. She started to be more disrespectful and sarcastic.
During all of this we were still attending our family therapy sessions. Our therapist was pretty certain that the misbehavior was anxiety related and didn't suggest that we give in to the demands to have the bookcase removed and wanted to just keep working on the things we all have been.
Well, SD's disrespectful attitude hit a climax. She called me the c word and some other choice things within my husband's ear shot. My husband honestly kinda lost it on her. I don't think I have EVER seen him that angry before. He was bright red and vein popping angry as he marched her to her room and declared "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO MY WIFE IN SUCH A WAY".
This was probably the first time my SD had ever seen her dad angry, let alone anger directed at her. It left her pretty shook. Like that was her rock bottom. We ended up needing to do a couple emergency session with her counselor because there was concern about her relapsing with some self-destructive issues she has been working on.
But that incident lead to us having a break through. Her counselor invited my husband and I into one of her sessions, and she had a bit of a break down. Basically she was dealing with a lot of existential dread and a lot of fear due to politics and it being an election year.
That ended up being an excellent opening for us to bond. This is gonna sound silly but I was able to pull up my social media timelines back from 2016 and I showed her some of the things I had written or had shared with me back then.
She was able to see that I shared a lot of the same fears that she has.
So we have all had some really big talks about things like feeling helpless when things are out of your control, about disengaging from the media machine for your own mental health, etc.
Things have been on the upswing since then. Before she left for her mom's this past weekend she even gave me a mother's day gift. An adorable little planter that says Caution: Mandrakes.
I love it. I put one of my favorite props in it and it is front and center on the bookcase now.
Relevant Comments:
To a downvoted commenter:

your continued support of JK Rowling through fandom will likely be an issue for other LGBT people in your life

The only other LGBT person in my life sent me bertie botts every flavor beans in my christmas package this past year...
Commenter: This poor girl is terrified of being kicked out from another set of abusive parents and is forcing herself to buy merchandise to support someone who wants her dead to make her stepparent happy. This update is horrifying, for real.

OOP: Hope you stretched before this reach.
SD was not kicked out of her mom's home. That was a choice she made. She is in no danger of being kicked out of our home either.

Currently I am in holding pattern, waiting to hear back from my recruiter to see my package has been accepted and a billet has open up for an Emergency/Trauma Nurse. I am hoping to get a billet with Expeditionary Medical Facility (EMF) at Camp Pendleton in a role 2 capacity.
From what I was told my package status is “ProBoard,” which I have no clue what that means. But I was wondering if anyone has any recommendations for literature to review to help prepare myself for this role or have any suggestions to help prepare me both mentally and physically.
Background info: 10 years ER nurse 6 years at a level one trauma center 2 years LVN/LPN in the Emergency Department 2 years EMT Emergency Department 1.5 years EMT Prehospital care

I have a friend's who's doing her best in life. She has a husband who is on disability and was fired after he had a stroke. He is not able to find a job, he has aphasia and it's hard for people to understand him. He's trying to do a business with stickers and he's good at computer stuff. My fiends works full time due to her medical condition she has to get medical care almost every week and she doesn't work for a week or two due to complications. So financially they struggle sometimes.
He told her the other day he can't start the business when she's constantly in and out of the hospital or multiple Drs appointments. She is also trying to start a business on her own but she can't since she gets so tired and after work she needs to rest. Sometimes she'll ask him to make some stickers so she can start building a package for her resin projects.
She has the idea that first crate a kit for those she knows, like earrings and makeup bag etc and give it as a gift to her closest friends at work. Start somewhere advertising. On the other hand his idea is all computer, make the stickers, post it and wait for customers. She's old fashioned while he is more computer. She's ask to creat the stickers and she buys the material, but he said I'll charge you for it...
He does not want to do the hard work, the investment part, just wait for someone to get into the website and boom buy it then create it. He sees a loss a cup that he can star putting a sticker or on a shirt. Not good at business, but who's the AH? What can I do to help them my friends she is so close for a double lung/heart transplant and if meds are not working then she will be place on hospice care. Her husband he's trying, but he is just not listening.
Please be kind on your opinions. They'll be reading this.

ACT 1. Sunday afternoon after visiting the local market two brothers wait for their train to arrive. If they were even a minute late, they knew their mother would surely scold them and scold the elder of the two far worse. The idea of another beating did not bother the elder brother; he had been through far worse just dealing with the brat and his attempted jailbreaks, though something did begin to make him painfully nauseous forcing him to feel pressured by the light breeze as if gravity had suddenly been increased tenfold. All his senses were heightening beyond anything he had thought possible.All around him he saw that the once energetic and hyperactive passengers had become little more than mannequins; their movements slowing to a standstill. They had all gone silent. The station was no longer filled with the cries of children or the gentle laughs of their parents. He had never heard such silence in such a crowded location. He did not feel panicked, nor did he feel a need to act for this silence was oddly comforting to him. However, the newly calm atmosphere would quickly be the source of a lifetime of suffering.His hand began to reach for his brother in an attempt to call his attention. Though in a moment of both unprecedented shock and exhaustion John shoved his younger brother onto the rails of an oncoming train. Local news would report the incident as nothing more than a tragic manic episode of a young sixteen-year-old. However, for John this single visceral instant in which all of his brother's bones were instantly crushed was stretched into hours. He was painfully aware of how every bone in his brother's body contorted in inhuman ways some nearly resembling perfect right angles, until eventually, they snapped and sent insurmountable pain throughout his nervous system. His blood curling screams were made mute by the screech of the train coming to a halt, though, by the time they stopped, his brother had torn his every vocal cord and had long ago lost consciousness. Still on the platform, the elder brother stood still, attempting to process what exactly he had done. He had no idea what force had compelled him to push his brother, but that instant would forever define what he saw as reality.That however was nineteen years ago, in present day he lived in isolation far from any person. He spent his isolated days wandering the land around his cabin completing house chores that distracted him from reminiscing about his days in the asylum or as he liked to call it “The Echo Room” where he was transferred after the incident. He headed inside after spending a portion of his morning counting all one-hundred-and-thirty-two trees that were showing signs of life after the harsh winter that nearly forced him to cut down two of them for firewood. Once inside he began preparing his morning coffee when he heard a loud creak come from the hall. He (after many incidents) learnt to avoid the boards that creaked, so in his mind immediately an intruder was breaking into his cabin searching for food or his stash of special edition coffee. Deciding to investigate he walked towards the noise when suddenly he heard two knocks at his front door. Confused and slightly worried, he proceeded to walk towards the door making sure not to step on any of the annoyingly loud floorboards.He approached and looked through the peephole and saw only what remained of the melting snow outside. Opening the door, he saw that only his steps led to the doormat. He glanced around and saw no indication of any life aside a few dark patches on the snow. He was about to close the door when he noticed a tiny red package wrapped in a radiant red bow placed clear from where the door would open. Cautiously picking it up, he noticed how it had almost no weight to it; as if empty. He walked inside and sat at his desk planning to journal later about the weird morning he had been having. He examined the exterior of the package and saw how not only was it near perfect condition but it was also slightly warm to the touch; as if recently held. He undid the bow and cautiously opened the package, half expecting an explosive of some sort. Though, all he found was a ragged ripped piece of paper. Unremarkable aside from the fact that it was inside such a carefully constructed package. On the other side he saw that it had some scarlet lettering inscribed into it reading.“Ouroboros”. At first believing it to be a prank by the kids who had heard rumors about him, and his incident, nearly caused him to dismiss it entirely deeming it little more than a slightly humorous event. He decided to put it aside for now as he had coffee left to drink that was quickly getting cold. He walked back towards the kitchen still distracted by the idea of no trace being left by whoever had left the gift. Was it even a gift? Maybe it was just some well-executed prank? In any manner he would later have a better look at it. He absentmindedly, reached for his cup and immediately pulled his hand back shocked by the temperature of the cup. It was frozen! Almost to a complete solid. He thought himself slightly distracted but not enough to freeze his morning coffee especially not his special edition coffee. First The Box and now this, it was all adding up to an annoying morning. Was it still morning? No, that’s not right. He had just spent the day counting trees. How could it still possibly be morning?The thought of Dr. Lumis being correct about his mental condition after so many years sent a chill down his spine especially since last time they talked, he did not exactly behave amicably. He was sure that both incidents had been isolated events that could never happen again. Sure, he had heard the echoes every once in a while, but he was never insane like the others; this he knew to be a fact. If he was insane, how could he have ever left? Disoriented and beginning to sweat, his legs suddenly gave out causing him to fall backward landing on the cold wooden floorboards. He looked around hurriedly expecting to see an intruder that had somehow found him. After seeing nothing but his pristine furniture, he steadied himself and began to control his breathing. He slowly got up causing the wood underneath to creak under the sudden release of weight. Deciding to further assure himself he went around the cabin checking in all four rooms. He found nothing aside from his own disturbances. Still feeling slightly nervous and disturbed he headed back towards the living room in search for The Box with the red bow determining that it had somehow triggered his current situation. The Box was still where he placed it; much to his relief. He sat down. He looked once again at the scarlet lettering.
Act 2. Back in the asylum he would often spend his days wondering how he could have ever been grouped alongside individuals who had purposefully and viciously committed heinous crimes against innocent victims. He was not insane like them. Whatever had caused his hand to shove his brother had long abandoned him. His routine now consisted of cleaning whatever mess the older residents made in the halls and transporting lab waste to the crematorium. He would clean from the southern stalls all the way to the northern cemetery and make his rounds gathering the waste from the rooms. It was a simple job but lonely, nonetheless. The halls were often only illuminated by tiny flickering red lights that indicated the position of the cameras through which Dr.Lumis would often monitor John during his nightly crusades. Though incredibly distasteful, John did not mind, he accepted that odd situations would be easier to explain if someone of credit had seen them. Yet despite this, he felt he was being watched by someone other than the doctor. He assumed that this feeling was due to the paranoia he had been diagnosed with a few months back. On a particular night, moments after dumping another bag of soft solids and dense liquids down the chute, he heard footsteps, just outside the room. Expecting to see the doctor he begrudgingly walked towards the door. Exiting and seeing no one he called out for the doctor but got no response aside from the echo of his own voice. He began to walk towards where he had heard the footsteps come from when he suddenly collapsed out of exhaustion. The same exhaustion that had plagued him during the moment of his brother’s death. He tried to reach for his panic button (a gift from Lumis) but it had disappeared from his chain. He tried to scream but not a single whisper was heard. He gazed into the dark corridor where he had thought Dr.Lumis had gone, but saw nothing but soft shadows. Though something was unnervingly wrong about them. They moved as if following an order, all synchronized, all heading towards him. That night in the asylum had left him scared to even return to the disposal area; he feared that The Shadows might eventually be able to reach him. The Shadows did not haunt him unaccompanied: they followed alongside The Echo tormenting his nights. While The Shadows could not reach him during daylight, he could never escape The Echo. It followed wherever he went and tracked everything he did. Dr.Lumis explained that he merely suffered from an extreme case paranoia but John saw the others; who yelled and who screamed true nonsense, he was perfectly aware of himself and the ones around him. Dr. Lumis secretly believed patient #132 experienced Hyper-sanity though this he would never verbally confess. It was term he decided would for now adequately describe his patient’s acute awareness of The Shadows and The Echo. John would for many years go without hearing The Echo after that night, only ever hearing what seemed like the final moans of a dying voice. Back in present day, he hoped he wasn’t suffering another hallucination as they tended to leave him in an embarrassing shocked state. He questioned what “Ouroboros” could possibly mean in relation to himself. He considered the possibility of it being an early warning of some threat to the sanctity of his home. He quickly dismissed it as he had not interacted with anyone long enough to possibly annoy them. Weird them out? Sure. Offend them? Maybe with his sense of fashion. Following his incredibly fine-tuned survival instincts he put on a light coat and went outside to walk among the trees. A mundane task, but one he truly enjoyed especially since he hoped it would distract him for a short while. Just before he closed the door behind him, he took one more look at The Box sitting on his desk and decided to take it with him in case he met the person who had left it. The sun had begun to set marking the end of the day. He watched the sun hide behind the mountain range letting the world bathe in darkness for another night. John did not dislike the night (he had worked nightshifts in The Echo Room for years) but he didn’t find the freezing cold to be ideal. He had not left his land for what was a few years now and the idea of even slightly stepping out of his comfort was making him incredibly anxious. Still, he walked forward towards wherever the path took him. The night only got darker and quieter, and he only got colder. He did not see the lightning bugs that usually warded away the dark near the edge of his hill. Without the soft hum of bugs or soft breeze that would brush against his beard he felt alone. Even the nights back in the asylum did not possess this level of quiet. He kept moving hoping that eventually he would find something that could break the uncomfortable silence. As he continued down the hill, he realized he could no longer distinguish the path from the dirt surrounding it. He considered heading back when he realized he had not kept track of where he had come from. Not only was he lost but alone with his thoughts and whatever had been watching him from the start. He walked a step forward and then another one back repeatedly. What he was attempting to achieve was beyond reason. Had he gone mad? No, he was perfectly sane. “Wait, I can hear them clearly now” he spoke, his voice dried from the cold.“This is not a hallucination” he spoke softly.“i-I AM NOT HALLUCINATING” he proclaimed. He heard The Echo once more though they were not of his voice but rather of Another. He had long been aware of “The Echo” but he could never fully determine whether it was a dream or an effect of the chemicals but this Other was undoubtedly real. “I don’t know where you are but please. Are you real?” he asked the night. He could now hear The Echo or rather feel the pressure of its words upon his reality. Had it been trying to hide the Other? He walked forward and pulled out The Box. “You gave me this right? What for? What purpose does it serve?” No one responded.Annoyed, he threw it as far as he could down the hill. “THERE! THIS CAN’T CONTINUE WITHOUT IT, RIGHT?” He shouted at the endless empty. That’s when out of the darkness emerged a faint light. Was it a lightning bug or maybe a sign of civilization?
Act 3. Cautiously, he approached the cold light and saw that the light was artificial. The tube inside flickered before another appeared a few feet ahead, and then another and then another and then what seemed like an uncountable amount more. He took a step forward and noticed that the ground underneath had turned to hard white tile. Accepting that this was not the weirdest occurrence that had affected him he proceeded to walk forward making sure to keep a mental note to journal about it later. The surrounding landscape transformed into white walls that every so often had a window that let him peek at the other side. At first, he could still see the snowy landscape, but it to slowly changed; first having scattered papers and then chairs, cabinets, and desks until they eventually resembled a typical office. Its purpose was not obvious to him, and neither was the hallway but if they were changing surely, it possessed a deeper metaphorical meaning that related to his life. He saw a door at the very end of the hall and decided to not postpone the ploy of whatever “The Echo” was planning. He stood before the door wondering about what it could possibly contain. John proceeded to open the door. Inside was a desk along with a single cabinet. Walking inside he noticed that the room was illuminated by some otherworldly source that had no words that could possibly describe it. He walked towards the desk and a file he had not seen previously, sat open. Inside was a description of his physical appearance. “Age: 35. Height: 5’8. Weight: 185 lbs. Hair: Black with obvious signs of stress. Eyes: Brown. Character Aptitude: High.” “Okay, I get it. I’m old, you didn’t have to expose my hair like that” he said slightly embarrassed quickly restyling his hair. He noticed that even though they had an almost perfect description of his hobbies, dreams and wishes they did not have a single picture as if they for some reason were only able to use words. “SOOO you know about that one time in the asylum (don’t ask) BUT NOT A SINGLE PICTURE? That’s lame.” he said mockingly. On the final page he found what looked like an incomplete file; most of the personal attributes had not yet been filled and only a note was made reading. “They don’t need a complete story just one they can understand.” Besides the fact that whatever role he played in this act had been a mere afterthought; he was confused as to how anyone could have ever gathered such sensitive and personal information about his isolated life. Was it The Echo? Had it told them his life? A phone started to ring somewhere in the room abruptly breaking the silence he had become used to. He quickly rotated towards the source of the ringing but did not find anything. There was only him and the four walls that despite the lighting did not change a shade of grey. He walked towards one of them that seemed to be where the noise came from resting his hand on it and gently put his ear to it thinking that the ringing was from another room entirely. The wall he had just laid a hand on had no longer a physical representation and causing John to fall through to the other side. Disoriented he slowly looked up and saw The Telephone illuminated by what seemed to be the same light that illuminated the previous room. This one however was far more powerful and concentrated solely on The Telephone. He approached it expecting a chasm to somehow appear underneath his feet. The Telephone did not stop ringing and only seemed to increase in intensity (though this could have simply been a hallucination). He lifted it to cut the blaring noise and slowly put it to his ear. “hello?” “…” “…” “The protagonist only dies if the story ends” the voice said quietly. “HUH? YOU DRAGGED ME HERE TO TELL ME THAT OMINOUSLY ANNOYING LOAD OF *********!” “…I’m so sorry” The call disconnected not out of offense but rather out of completion. John slammed the phone back onto its stand and decided it was time for this nonsense to end. He walked out into the room he was in before anxiously attempting to find another exit: only to be met with solid walls. What wicked game had he been roped into? When would it end? These were questions he would answer far earlier than he expected. A door appeared in the center of the room. No, it was more of a two-dimensional plane that appeared to be a sort of portal. With no other options, John stepped into the newly opened portal.
Act 4. On the other side was a station, and his ears were immediately flooded with the cries of children and the laughs of their parents. He walked around moving through the crowd careful to not miss any indication of the location. His pace increased as he began to recognize the commuters shortly realizing exactly where he was. He rushed to a platform, the platform where he and his brother were to arrive after their day in the market. He sat on a nearby bench committed to saving his brother no matter who he would have to shove instead. Three agonizing days passed with the daily commuters repeating their routine with the slightest variations. One of these variations would be the key to preventing the day that haunted his nights. Something would soon cause him to shove his brother onto the tracks. He was determined to stop the fall or kill himself to keep his brother safe.He heard a familiar laughter and turned towards the source and saw his brothers face uncontrollably laughing and himself lightly smiling. He began to run towards them but felt once again suddenly exhausted. As if the air became a type of nonnewtonian sludge making his legs impossibly heavy. The crowd around him seemed to be moving just as easily as before; children laughing just as maniacally and just as carelessly. He tried to yell to them, but his lungs were filled with the dense fluid drowning any screams he attempted. He was forced to watch how his brother got closer and closer to the edge. Through much effort, he managed to get close enough to extend a hand towards his past trying to desperately push him away from his brother. The past reacted in what seemed to be a defensive system and sent a temporal anomaly throughout the space his past and present inhabited. Time began to exponentially speed forward. In a last desperate attempt to prevent his brother’s death he tried to distract the past long enough to let the train pass without incident, but the temporal anomaly caused the relative slow velocity of his touch to have the effect of a sudden jerk and in his final moments of consciousness he saw his brother accelerate towards the rails in a split second. He awoke back in the office alone with nothing, but the realization of what force had killed his brother. He curled into the fetal position and began to cry; still believing his lungs to be filled with the dense liquid he did not let out a single sigh. He spent several hours in this state of painful silence without even opening his eyes. His emotions were chaotic and his thoughts unending. They tormented him for hours far after he had run out of tears to let out. They were merciless and torturous forbidding him from resting, insisting on his suffering. Being the cause of his brother’s death nearly caused him to go insane yet part of him kept insisting that Another was to blame. Another had caused him to do it. The Other had forced his hand. Of this, he was now sure. The Other enjoyed his suffering, The Other forced him to kill his brother. He had not eaten nor slept in what seemed like years and yet he stood up defying the gravity that held him down. He took a deep breath of as much oxygen as his lungs allowed and began to speak. “Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Wherever you are. Just know I will no longer play for your entertainment the rest is entirely my choice” he said threateningly. He then began to walk forwards confidently towards the dark wall and through the hidden door that he was not supposed to see. He entered what seemed to be a studio room though, unlike the sterile office; it was trashed. Papers littered the floor and empty bottles populated the lone mattress. On it laid a journal that had recently had liquid spilt on it. He picked the journal and gently opened it and began to read. It was scratched with the stray ideas of a creator who seemed to have never decided upon an end or beginning to his story; yet possessing the journey. He saw many ideas that together seemed to create a way for the continuity to depend entirely on Another rather than itself. A thought described in a single word interested him enough to take it with him. The room started to dissolve around him transforming into a cold landscape. Armed with the knowledge of who he was he treaded what remained of the worn-out path. The sun began to rise signing the start of another day, yet John did not seem to notice as he was focused on something buried in the snow. He could not see much of it yet he knew it was The Box he had thrown the previous night. He dug it up and began his walk up the hill once more. He eventually arrived at his cabin and walked towards his front door….
Act 5.
If you wish to rebel; continue reading on the next page.
Begin the story once more on Truth 2.
If you wish to ward away The Other; don’t read any further
If you wish to follow The Echo read Truth 3
To understand turn to Truth 4
Truth 1
…Before deciding that no longer would he be a puppet for someone’s amusement. John arrogantly began marched back down the hill and headed north towards the nearest interstate a few miles from his home hoping that he had derailed The Echo’s plot. It took him hours on foot, but he would eventually come across the road and start his journey back to civilization no longer subject to the whims of an Otherworldly Audience. He believed his future was now his to decide. He decided what he would become. He decided when and what to think. This he was sure would be how he escaped his torment. John suddenly suffered a complete body collapse and fell forward landing face first onto the scorching road. It would be several sweltering hours before anyone would find him. But eventually someone did, john suffering heavy burns and on the brink of death was saved. He would awake months later in a hospital bed though no one would ever know of this. Weeks would pass as john laid in the hospital bed unable to speak or even move; alerting no one to his consciousness. The doctors and nurses were busy with whatever important patients needed immediate attention; they walked from one end to the other in what seemed like mere minutes. The entire time the only company he had was The Echo and yet slowly it too seemed to forget his existence as well. Eventually The Echo having no interest went away.Jane a third-year medical student had recently joined the staff a month prior and had already been assigned two elders and one child. Though overwhelmed she did not grow annoyed nor frustrated; she loved her job and by proxy her patients. Despite her benevolent nature there was a single patient she never went near as he always seemed to be watching her despite his eyes being shut for over four months. Any time she got near to patient #132 she would begin to get nauseous and quickly retreat. She had no ID on the man, but it seemed he was dehydrated for far longer than should’ve been possible and should be by all accounts dead if not near it. Whenever she worked nightshifts, she would swear that she heard the man whimper slightly as if to warn her of something. Even when she was on the opposite side of the building, she would hear the echo of his groans. She would eventually be transferred and would soon forget the man who after 6 months was officially declared braindead and was due to be disposed of, yet she would still every once in a while, still hear The Echo. Forgotten Ending
Truth 2…Realizing that there was no other choice John took a step forward while placing the note he ripped from the journal into The Box making sure to keep it neatly packaged. He saw the footprints he had left two nights before and carefully stepped into each one making sure to not disturb the surrounding snow. Whatever…Whoever had set him on this path allowed him to live a life of suffering, a life of loss, and a life of pain. This, he felt was the way things were intended to play out; the way it had to end. He placed The Box on the final step making sure it would not be knocked away whenever the door would eventually open. He walked away nearly to the edge of the property when he looked back once more. Managing to peek inside he saw his past still making his coffee when he saw an almost invisible distortion appear near the front door. He smiled and turned away only saying…Freedom ending
Truth 3…though spotting a disturbance near the back of the cabin distracted him from the front door. He decided to investigate for fear of losing a single blossoming tree. Arriving near the back fence he saw no indication of a disturbance giving him much needed reassurance. He heard noise emerge from inside the cabin giving him one more dilemma to deal with. He headed to the backdoor making sure to not disturb the recent snow and entered the cabin. Being sleep deprived and without coffee he had forgotten about the wooden floor and stepped on one that caused a creak to be heard throughout the cabin. He quickly hid in the bathroom fearing that he had disturbed the continuity that The Echo had established when suddenly a bright flash blinded him. He found himself at the front door next to The Box. Slightly amused he proceeded to knock on the door and was soon after transported once more to an empty hall. Both confused and entertained as he was being transported from one place in time to another he took a few steps forward alerting the past to his presence. Seeing his past enter the hall he ducked and quickly hid around the corner. His past seemed to believe that the doctor was in the halls and decided to investigate though just as he was nearing closer; his past collapsed. John saw how his fall was slowed as if moving through the dense liquid he had once gone through. He walked towards his past and noticed an old fashioned panic button that would instantly call Dr.Lumis to his location. Measuring the consequences, he decided to remove the panic button and head back towards The Shadows. For a third and final time he was transported to a final location, the bottom of a snowy hill. Taking in his surroundings he noticed burn marks on the snow where his past would eventually walk through the portal whenever the past caught up. He reached into his pocket and realized how the plot was supposed to move forward. He walked until he reached the exact point where his past would once again find The Box. He kneeled and buried The Box making sure to erase any evidence of his own disturbances. Fully fulfilling his purpose John collapsed. The End.
“Did the hero die?” “What?” “Did he die?” “No? He beat the bad guy and saved the day remember?” “Yea but like AFTER.” “Well, I guess after a few years he would.” “No” The young child said growing annoyed, “when you said, “The End” did he die?” “No.” responded the elder brother. “Then what happened to him? Is he still alive?” “The protagonist only dies if you stop reading.” concluded the elder brother as if possessed. Begin again?
Truth 4…Then just as he took his first step forward everything began to rot. His trees, his home, his coffee, all of it was slowly eroding into a fine dust. He knew that another temporal anomaly would be the likely cause, but he had not yet experienced one that possessed this level of molecular destruction. The fabric of his reality was slowly and thoroughly being untangled into its most simple of compositions. It separated the light from dark, gravity from time, and words from spaces.John could now comprehend what had defined his reality for so many painful years, he finally understood The Narrative and how all possible endings had been chosen long before his creation. John had been a slave from the moment The Narrative began; not once in his entire existence had he ever had a real choice only walking paths already treaded by Another. He was nothing but a plot device in an otherwise self-indulging tale written by a gentle master forced to be cruel for those above. From the moment this story began, John was in pain. He could never hope to truly escape; he could only die until he arose once more. Had John never understood what his life really was then maybe he could’ve found meaning in his suffering. Unfortunately, this choice has now forced John to become aware of how truly meaningless his existence was. His life was little more than entertainment for The Other; they were the ones truly in control. For as long as The Other remained, The Echo would doom John to eternal suffering. The Echo was never in control of The Narrative; he too was merely a subject to it by an even greater force. The Echo did not wish for John to suffer but The Other would not allow John to live if he did not. It is a toxic cycle of pain, suffering and realization that forces John to relive The Narrative lifetime after lifetime. The Narrative must have suffering intertwined into its foundation otherwise The Other would grow bored and erase the reality ending John in but a mere thought. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? This is reality; John cannot exist without pain, The Echo cannot live without a narrative, and The Other is you. THE END......
Intended to be a philosophical narrative detailing the tragic relationship between the reader, the narrator, and the character and how they cannot coexist without hurting each other.

Hello I found a pharmacy about 4hrs from my home that had my Zepbound 7.5 prescription available. After missing 3 injections and my local pharmacy couldn’t fill my prescription I was forced to find others across the state. When it arrived via mail it was packaged with ice packs that were no longer cold and the medication was room temperature. I quickly threw it in the fridge . Is it necessary for the medication to be cold/ refrigerated?
I’ve been very sick the last few days and I’m just assuming that it’s from missing so many infections of 7.5
Any advice is greatly appreciated

Over the course of my 4 year marriage to my partner, I have arrived at the position that I was abused, manipulated, and functionally enslaved to a mentally ill partner.
In simplest form, the progression is apparently observable. She was diagnosed with cancer in October of 2019 while we were engaged. Due to the diagnosis, we moved up our actual marriage date (our wedding was still set for mid-April) to December 1, 2019. Her surgery was December 13, 2019. In my compassion for her, I agreed to move our wedding date up to offset her anxiety around who would be responsible for her if things went south with her surgical treatment.
Our first month of marriage was straightforward; she was on pain meds recovering from surgery, so the main engagement that occurred was me walking her up and down the hospital hallway as she recovered and trying to meet her base physical needs of hygiene, food, and presence. We stayed in the hospital for 2-3 weeks (with recurring hospital visits for complications).
Quickly after we figured out our marital living situation in her small 3-bed apartment with 2 roommates, our relationship devolved. Specifically, she was irritable because of the pain she was in, causing her to lash out at me with regular frequency for small things. If I didn’t put clothes away in the right place, didn’t anticipate her needs (without her communicating them), or ate the wrong food in front of her she would shout at me and decry me for my thoughtlessness.
These small, critical engagements were wounding and created a distance between us – and there was no upside. She was never kind, never paid mind to needs I might have, and started down a path of cultivating a root of bitterness in her soul. She quickly revealed herself to be venomous, hateful, and vindictive when she felt like she was wronged — and any observation of concern about our marriage resulted me in being accused of being mean or insensitive, even if I spent hours or days calculating the best way to share my concern (and I have a master’s degree in communication where I focused in studying disagreement — I know how to carefully package concerns).
During this time, I worked hard to provide for us, foreseeing a significant time period where I would have to be primary financial provider and caregiver. I increased my income each year we were married by around 25%, finishing our marriage at >$80,000 in yearly income, compared to starting our marriage at a modest $42,000 salary (including dramatically improving our healthcare). Frankly, I increased my income to provide for us in spite of the lack of support at home.
But to be clear: I don’t think it would have been particularly difficult to provide financially if I had an ounce of support at home.
However, the relentless criticism and expectation of mind-reading continued through the years. I rationalized this abuse for the first year of our marriage because of all the excuses to be cruel, she had a good one – she had cancer. I hung onto a hope that it would stop. Contrary to my hope, as the years went on – and our expenses climbed – and I continued to work myself to the bone – she continued to relentlessly critique and even started being more emotionally demanding, expecting me to take responsibility for her inability to cope with her emotions – I was drowning. She was asking too much of me. There was no deliverance from her abuse.
I was exhausted. In the peak of the abuse I endured at her hand, I was working multiple jobs, sleeping 10+ hours a night and napping frequently during the day around meetings and work, then coping with alcohol to numb myself to the abusive dynamic and fall asleep with no support from her. The only time I could approach her sexually was when I was intoxicated, with inhibitions lowered. The only time I could have a conversation with her was with a counselor in the room. Without something to mitigate opportunity for her to be cruel to me, either a mediator or self-medication, I was scared.
I lived at home in a constant state of alert and cognitive fatigue. No matter how I tried to make sense of my home life, I couldn’t. When she looked at or touched me, I would recoil in fear, anticipating some sort of incisive critique or demand expressed. Then she would criticize me for not responding warmly to her, exacerbating the cycle.
I couldn’t meet her needs – I was utterly exhausted. When I would tell her of the exhaustion I experienced in marital counseling, her responses were typically something along the lines of not believing me, denying what I was saying was true, or calling my exhaustion an ‘excuse’. I could interact happily with my friends… why not her?
I did not deny her demands were legitimate; rather, I expressed my inability to meet them because of how fatigued I was. I said ‘I can’t’ so many times. I realize her demands were small; affection, saying ‘i love you’, complimenting her. But it’s disorienting to be consistently berated and belittled by a person and then asked to compliment them and tell them you love them.
The push and pull of abuse is exhausting to a person who is not mentally because it does not make sense.
Further, in counseling I realized that I have forgotten that I have needs. I have lost the tools to even evaluate what my needs might be because, implicitly and explicitly in my marriage, I was told my needs don’t matter.
My marriage made no sense; I was obviously drowning, exhausted with the demands our life imposed on me. I was doing everything I could to get straight. I was in individual therapy, marital counseling, pastoral counseling, trying different antidepressants (4 in total – all with no effect), changing eating habits, trying to reduce my drinking, getting medical tests to see if I had health issues causing my fatigue, and being vulnerable in my friendships in an attempt to invite others in to process and move forward and figure out my marriage. I desperately shared everything I could about my marriage, hoping someone else would crack the code where I couldn’t.
None of my efforts worked. I could not get out of the exhausted state I was in. It’s worth noting here that within weeks of separating I almost completely cut out alcohol, got into a regular sleep schedule, was waking up at 6-7am every day and reading multiple hours (which I couldn’t do in marriage due to cognitive fatigue/distraction), and experienced a resurgence of energy. I have felt the duress I was under lift and lift and lift and the weeks and months have went on.
In retrospect, I was experiencing cognitive fatigue because I was taking the demands my wife was placing on me seriously, but no matter what I did I could not make sense of them. How could she not see that I was doing everything I could to make ends meet – the ends which she was imposing on me? I did not have additional energy left. She would ask me ‘Do you love me?’ and I didn’t know how to respond. How is my work not at least some symbol of love? My dream was to be a poor professor, which she knew – instead I was grinding myself to the bone, working in digital marketing with multiple freelance projects, picking up a bartending gig and a teaching gig on top of full-time employment.
The last straw was when she accused me of abuse. I took that accusation seriously, and weighed it against my experience. ‘Am I an abuser?’ I asked myself. I sorted through my behavior and how I treated her. I came to the conclusion that I may be a poor husband in serious ways; but I am not an abuser. And the abuse question opened the door to the question… ‘I may not be an abuser… but is there abuse in our marriage?’ And the answer quickly became ‘Yes.’
When we were married, I understood that she wasn’t going to work much for a while. However, she worked the bare minimum she could for 4 years, earning at most in a single year $18,000. As the years went on and my income climbed, our debt continued to climb as well. She was still contributing the same, yet spending frivolously on useless knick knacks for our home and a cat. As I packed up our home to sell, the majority of items were dozens of boxes of useless junk she’d accumulated.
She lived a life of mania around finances. We would go to marital counseling and she would regularly express, ‘I would rather be poor and happy than rich and sad’. We were poor and sad. Sure, my income was the highest it’d ever been – but we were still drowning, with debts climbing. At the end of our marriage, we’d accumulated about $20,000 in consumer debt between credit cards and personal loans.
It was traumatizing (and abusive) to go to counseling and be told by my partner she would ‘rather be poor and happy and than rich and sad’ when the factual scenario we were living was neither. She actively denied reality – both my lived experience and the reality of our finances – at my expense. It was killing me, trying to make sense of what we were going through but being unable to make sense of what I was being told and what I was experiencing.
Throughout this time, it is worth adding that she also leveraged my spiritual leadership to ‘set me straight’. I was in a conservative Evangelical space, believing that men are the ultimate provider in a family unit and primarily responsible for the status of the marriage. Because I was not doing what she wanted me to (lavishing her with affection), I was muscled into multiple groups and meetings where pastoral care intervened to restore our marriage. In the moment, I submitted to my pastoral care because of my trust for them and my faith in God. Now, I believe this dynamic was abusive; my pastoral care did not care in any sense for my soul; they only cared about fixing my marriage. No questions around ‘why’ my marriage was so bad were asked; only what was going on and how it could be fixed. I relish the thought of my pastoral care being held accountable for the abuse they exercised upon me during this time on judgment day, albeit through a shaken faith in a God that would enable this dynamic.
With my spiritual community, I shared that I felt like she was my tormentor; that she it felt as if I were on the ground due to exhaustion, and she was standing on my throat, telling me to ‘get up’ and ‘tell me you love me’; that our metaphorical life was a boat, sinking, and I was desperately bailing out water. All the while, she stood at the other end of the boat, desperately bailing water in and looking at me like I was a maniac.
And yet, because there was no adultery, there was no category for divorce. We had sworn an oath before God and were required to fix this.
As I reflect upon my marriage (and the ongoing divorce proceedings), a few things are clear.
She is an abuser. I don’t think she intends to be, but impact matters. She is mentally ill and unable to reckon with basic reality.
She is a manipulator. She manipulated my spiritual community against me. I was viewed as someone to be corrected while begging for help from my trusted friends and pastoral care, whom I now regret being vulnerable with due to their abuse and denial of my reality because I didn’t fit neatly into their thin theological categories.
She is an enslaver. In divorce proceedings, she is doing everything she can to get every dollar from me, leveraging student loans I did not co-sign, my continually increasing income due to my hard work, and denying every claim of dissipated assets she can.
It is truly a mind-breaking experience to see your compassion leveraged against you for money. I had to sit under an attorney proclaiming to a judge that, since I consented to move up our marriage date before her cancer surgery, ‘I knew what I was getting into’. That she is entitled to large sums of money (that do not exist; we never had more than $3000 in our bank account during marriage) due to that decision.
Even apart from the abuse, I did not know what I was getting into. Including the abuse, I am full of remorse for having invited such an evil, hateful person into my life.
This experience has been the most challenging to my faith. As I endured abuse from her, I trusted God in a few ways. That the compassion I showed would maybe be rewarded – or, at least not punished. That my spiritual community wanted what was best for me. That God was not a punitive, hateful God (like my partner). I do not believe this trust was well placed, but am open to shortcomings in my views here.
I struggle to consent to a God that allowed my experience to occur. I’m open and processing in some kind of faith, but I really don’t know what it looks like to find a place to put this pain and betrayal that I’m experiencing.
I am a survivor of abuse, and the abuse I endured was mind-shattering. I sacrificed everything to support a partner diagnosed with serious bodily illness, which drove her to hate me and deny my lived experience because she could not reconcile it with the hatefulness she cultivated over our marriage, choosing bitterness over any positivity for four years, poisoning my well-being in the process.
What I envisioned to be the most compassionate moment of my life — marrying a person with cancer and promising to support and love them — has become nothing but a symbol of pain and remorse. I envisioned a life where my partner and I would fight against the terror of cancer; instead she hopped to the other side, choosing her ongoing health issues as the ally and myself as the enemy.
It took me 4 years to realize it. And as she drags me through court to leverage every dollar out of me I can, my only regret is that I didn’t leave my abuser to her own devices sooner; self-pity, hatefulness, and a sheer disregard toward taking responsibility for anything.
I am grateful but drowning. As we are negotiating settlement, the end is near, and my abuser will soon be unable to execute any influence in my life.

[ [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?

Hello everyone, I’m an NP with job offers in NYC, Washington DC, and Raleigh, NC. I don’t want to post details of the job offers as it may identify me. Instead, I would like to know (from providers actually practicing in those cities) what either the average salary/benefit package is or what it should be respectively. This is just so that I can have realistic expectations during negotiations.
General information: I have around 2 years medical derm experience. I am bilingual in English and Spanish.
All 3 clinics have: salary + incentive collections pay structure. All willing to teach me cosmetic derm. I would have 2 MAs who do everything. Expected to see around 30-35 pts /day in all clinics.
For example: in nyc, for the amount of experience I have, base is averaging around 100k + low 20s% collections. Around 14 days pto, etc.
Thank you in advance :)

I have mental health issues like depression and anxiety and have worked at this place for 3.5 years (England)
Since I came back from the mat leave, my line manager was off with me due to my 1 year old getting sick on the nursery as she just joined it.
My line manager shouted at me, that led to depression relapse. Please note that I was admitted to mother and baby unit when my post-partum depression was quite bad 1.5 month after my baby was born.
I went on sick leave for 12 days and when I came back, I told HR that my depression is getting worse due to my line manager as I was much better and off medications before I joined the work after mat leave.HR was being very rude towards me and forced me to make eye contact with my line manager.
HR was still not changing the line manager and I got pissed off and told them that why are you not understanding, she is harming me by her volatile nature and my child is suffering as I can't even play with her.
Line manager said that I am a bully and aggressive. So an informal investigation was conducted in which she retracted her bullying allegations and said I was aggressive when I asked them (HR) for changing the line manager.
Eventually, the line manager was changed and I mended relationship with my previous line manager as I got to know she was suffering from menopausal issues, that explained her behaviour and I moved forward.
Since I completed all my goals, I got good end of year review by the interim manager. I changed the nursery and got my child into a childminder setting for less sickness.
In January, I got a new line manager who seemed really level headed and kind. Owing to my depression and anxiety, I was seeking validation from him (like job well done etc.) by showing him my data (I am a researcher), he was always humble and nice and we brainstormed.
Then after three months, I suddenly had a performance review and was told that I do not show enough independence in performing my work, I seek help from my line manager (who is not even trained in my field - it is a matrix management). The project lead said that I share too much data with them - I over communicate via teams. The project lead made a teams group in which he added my line manager and I, and made me prepare weekly plans for the work package. I thought, if I share my data with them, they will see how hard I am working and how everything is according to the timeline. Several (not all) colleagues feel that the project lead is a narcissist.
But no, my line manager ambushed me with this sudden performance review in which me mentioned that if I don't improve within three weeks, I will be put on PIP.
I had such a bad depressive episode that I got suicidal. My anti--depressant dose got increased and my psychiatrist said, it is the work which is causing you issues, no dose will help you. This issue needs to be sorted.
I am on sick leave now. The attitude of my line manager has shocked me. He never gave me any feedback before, if he did, I would have happily changed myself according to what they wanted. But he rather started a performance review with director and HR involved. This broke my trust and me. He was writing all the small points throughout those three months. Most of the things he are saying are false. He misunderstood my humbleness to be lack of independence or knowledge. I always had good performance reviews, this is the first time I am listening to this when I was working so hard.
I am thinking of going the legal way - preferably a settlement. What would you suggest? Does it look like discrimination to you?

"L-MUT tgħid li l-pretensjonijiet tal-ministru dwar żieda proposta ta’ €10,000 fis-salarju tal-għalliema mhumiex minni
Meta wieġeb għall-istqarrija tal-MUT il-Ministru għall-Edukazzjoni Clifton Grima saħaq li l-proposti tal-gvern jinkludu salarju inizjali ta’ €36,000, u hedded li jippubblika l-ftehim kollu propost.
Il-Malta Union of Teachers (MUT) ċaħdet pubblikament it-talbiet li għamel il-Ministru tal-Edukazzjoni Clifton Grima dwar żidiet fil-pagi tal-għalliema.
Nhar is-Sibt, l-MUT kienet qed tirreaġixxi għal artiklu ta’ ONE News, fejn Grima ħeġġeġ lill-unjin biex tinforma lill-membri tagħha bil-proposti finanzjarji tal-gvern, hekk kif stqarr li l-pakkett finanzjarju jinkludi salarju inizjali ta’ €36,000 għall-għalliema, li jirrappreżenta żieda ta’ €10,000. .
L-affermazzjonijiet tal-Ministru ta’ €10,000 żieda u salarju inizjali ta’ €36,000 għal għalliema ġodda mhumiex riflessi fil-proposti finanzjarji tal-gvern lill-MUT, qalet il-union. L-MUT ppubblikat siltiet mill-aħħar proposta tal-gvern fuq il-websajt tagħhom, li ma juru l-ebda evidenza ta’ dawn iż-żidiet allegati.
Minflok, id-dokumenti jiżvelaw żidiet proposti fit-tagħbija tat-tagħlim, telf ta’ parità bejn gradi ekwivalenti bħalissa, u arretrati tas-salarji għall-2024 eskluż l-2023.
L-MUT akkużat lill-gvern li qed jipprova jsalva wiċċ billi jiskredita lill-unjin aktar milli jaħdem lejn soluzzjoni għall-ftehim settorjali. L-union enfasizzat ir-rieda tagħha li tkompli tiġġieled għar-rikonoxximent u t-trattament ġust tal-edukaturi, peress li kkonkludiet li l-membri tagħha, ""m'għandhomx ikunu intimidati.""
Nhar il-Ġimgħa, l-MUT ħarġet ultimatum lill-gvern dwar il-ftehim settorjali li għad irid jintlaħaq qbil dwaru, hekk kif l-unjin iddikjarat ukoll tilwima kummerċjali mal-gvern.
Il-Ministru tal-Edukazzjoni jwieġeb għat-talbiet tal-MUT
Meta wieġeb għall-istqarrija tal-MUT nhar is-Sibt, il-Ministru tal-Edukazzjoni Clifton Grima saħaq li l-proposti tal-gvern jinkludu salarju inizjali ta’ €36,000. “U din hija żieda waħda biss għal kategorija waħda ta’ edukaturi,” qal Grima. Huwa nnota li l-proposti jinkludu aktar żidiet li ma jeħtieġux xogħol jew kwalifiki addizzjonali.
Grima tenna l-appell tiegħu biex l-MUT tinforma bis-sħiħ lill-membri tagħha, u żied li l-unjin m’hi qed tagħmel l-ebda referenza għall-aħħar żewġ laqgħat bejn il-gvern u l-union.
Grima hedded li jippubblika l-ftehim kollu propost jekk l-MUT ""tkompli taqsam informazzjoni selettiva li tpinġi stampa falza.""
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
—
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"MUT表示部長關於教師薪資增加10,000歐元的說法並不屬實
針對 MUT 的聲明，教育部長 Clifton Grima 堅稱政府的提案確實包括 36,000 歐元的起薪，並威脅要公佈整個擬議交易
馬耳他教師工會（MUT）公開駁斥了教育部長克利夫頓·格里馬（Clifton Grima）關於教師加薪的說法。
週六，MUT 對 ONE News 的一篇文章做出了回應，其中 Grima 鼓勵工會向其成員通報政府的財務提案，他表示財務方案包括教師起薪 36,000 歐元，這意味著增加了 10,000 歐元。
工會表示，部長關於新教師加薪 10,000 歐元和起薪 36,000 歐元的主張並未反映在政府向 MUT 提出的財務提案中。 MUT 在其網站上發布了政府最新提案的摘錄，其中沒有顯示這些聲稱的增長的證據。
相反，這些文件顯示了擬議的教學負擔增加、當前同等年級之間的不平等，以及 2024 年（不包括 2023 年）的工資拖欠。
MUT 指責政府試圖透過抹黑工會來挽回面子，而不是努力解決部門協議。該聯盟強調其決心繼續爭取教育工作者的認可和公平待遇，並得出結論，其成員「不應被嚇倒」。
週五，MUT 就尚未達成協議的部門協議向政府發出了最後通牒，因為工會也宣布與政府之間存在貿易爭端。
教育部長回應 MUT 的說法
教育部長克利夫頓·格里馬 (Clifton Grima) 在回應 MUT 週六的聲明時堅稱，政府的提案確實包括 36,000 歐元的起薪。 「這只是一類教育工作者的加薪，」格里馬說。他指出，這些提議包括更多的加薪，但不需要額外的工作量或資格。
格里馬再次呼籲 MUT 充分告知其成員，並補充說工會沒有提及政府和工會之間的最近兩次會議。
Grima 威脅稱，如果 MUT“繼續選擇性地分享描繪虛假圖景的信息”，他將宣布整個擬議交易。
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_propose_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"MUT says minister's claims of proposed €10,000 rise in teacher's salary is not true
Responding to the MUT's statement education minister Clifton Grima insisted that government's proposals does include a €36,000 starting salary, and threatened to publish the entire proposed deal
The Malta Union of Teachers (MUT) has publicly refuted claims made by education minister Clifton Grima regarding salary increases for teachers.
On Saturday, the MUT was reacting to a ONE News article, where Grima encouraged the union to inform its members of government's financial proposals, as he stated that the financial package includes a starting salary of €36,000 for teachers, which represents a €10,000 increase.
The minister's assertions of €10,000 raises and a starting salary of €36,000 for new teachers are not reflected in the government's financial proposals to the MUT, the union said. The MUT published extracts from the government's latest proposal on their website, which show no evidence of these claimed increases.
Instead, the documents reveal proposed increases in teaching load, a loss of parity between currently equivalent grades, and salary arrears for 2024 excluding 2023.
The MUT accused the government of trying to save face by discrediting the union rather than working towards a solution for the sectoral agreement. The union emphasised its resolve to continue fighting for the recognition and fair treatment of educators, as it concluded that its members, ""shall not be intimidated.""
On Friday, the MUT issued an ultimatum to the government regarding the sectoral agreement which is yet to be agreed upon, as the union also declared a trade dispute with the government.
Education minister responds to MUT claims
Responding to the MUT's statement on Saturday, education minister Clifton Grima insisted that government's proposals does include a €36,000 starting salary. ""And this is only one raise for one category of educators,"" Grima said. He noted that the proposals include more raises which don't require additional work load or qualifications.
Grima reiterated his call for the MUT to fully inform its members, adding that the union is making no reference to the last two meetings between government and the union.
Grima threatened to publish the entire proposed deal should the MUT ""continue to share selective information that paints a false picture.""
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"एमयूटी का कहना है कि शिक्षक के वेतन में €10,000 की प्रस्तावित वृद्धि के मंत्री के दावे सही नहीं हैं
एमयूटी के बयान पर प्रतिक्रिया देते हुए शिक्षा मंत्री क्लिफ्टन ग्रिमा ने जोर देकर कहा कि सरकार के प्रस्तावों में €36,000 का शुरुआती वेतन शामिल है, और पूरे प्रस्तावित सौदे को प्रकाशित करने की धमकी दी
माल्टा यूनियन ऑफ टीचर्स (एमयूटी) ने शिक्षकों के वेतन वृद्धि के संबंध में शिक्षा मंत्री क्लिफ्टन ग्रिमा द्वारा किए गए दावों का सार्वजनिक रूप से खंडन किया है।
शनिवार को, एमयूटी एक समाचार लेख पर प्रतिक्रिया दे रहा था, जहां ग्रिमा ने संघ को अपने सदस्यों को सरकार के वित्तीय प्रस्तावों के बारे में सूचित करने के लिए प्रोत्साहित किया, क्योंकि उन्होंने कहा था कि वित्तीय पैकेज में शिक्षकों के लिए €36,000 का शुरुआती वेतन शामिल है, जो €10,000 की वृद्धि दर्शाता है .
संघ ने कहा कि मंत्री के €10,000 की बढ़ोतरी और नए शिक्षकों के लिए €36,000 के शुरुआती वेतन के दावे एमयूटी के लिए सरकार के वित्तीय प्रस्तावों में परिलक्षित नहीं होते हैं। एमयूटी ने अपनी वेबसाइट पर सरकार के नवीनतम प्रस्ताव के उद्धरण प्रकाशित किए, जो इन दावा की गई वृद्धि का कोई सबूत नहीं दिखाते हैं।
इसके बजाय, दस्तावेज़ शिक्षण भार में प्रस्तावित वृद्धि, वर्तमान समकक्ष ग्रेड के बीच समानता की हानि और 2023 को छोड़कर 2024 के लिए वेतन बकाया का खुलासा करते हैं।
एमयूटी ने सरकार पर क्षेत्रीय समझौते के समाधान की दिशा में काम करने के बजाय संघ को बदनाम करके चेहरा बचाने की कोशिश करने का आरोप लगाया। संघ ने शिक्षकों की मान्यता और उचित व्यवहार के लिए लड़ाई जारी रखने के अपने संकल्प पर जोर दिया, क्योंकि उसने निष्कर्ष निकाला कि उसके सदस्यों को ""डराया नहीं जाएगा।""
शुक्रवार को, एमयूटी ने क्षेत्रीय समझौते के संबंध में सरकार को एक अल्टीमेटम जारी किया, जिस पर अभी तक सहमति नहीं बनी है, क्योंकि संघ ने सरकार के साथ व्यापार विवाद की भी घोषणा की है।
शिक्षा मंत्री ने एमयूटी के दावों का जवाब दिया
शनिवार को एमयूटी के बयान पर प्रतिक्रिया देते हुए, शिक्षा मंत्री क्लिफ्टन ग्रिमा ने जोर देकर कहा कि सरकार के प्रस्तावों में €36,000 का शुरुआती वेतन शामिल है। ग्रिमा ने कहा, ""और यह शिक्षकों की एक श्रेणी के लिए केवल एक वेतन वृद्धि है।"" उन्होंने कहा कि प्रस्तावों में अधिक वेतन वृद्धि शामिल है जिसके लिए अतिरिक्त कार्य भार या योग्यता की आवश्यकता नहीं है।
ग्रिमा ने एमयूटी से अपने सदस्यों को पूरी तरह से सूचित करने के अपने आह्वान को दोहराया, और कहा कि संघ सरकार और संघ के बीच पिछली दो बैठकों का कोई संदर्भ नहीं दे रहा है।
ग्रिमा ने धमकी दी कि अगर एमयूटी ""झूठी तस्वीर पेश करने वाली चयनात्मक जानकारी साझा करना जारी रखता है तो वह पूरे प्रस्तावित सौदे को प्रकाशित कर देगा।""
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
—
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"MUT dice que las afirmaciones del Ministro sobre la propuesta de aumentar el salario de los docentes en 10.000 euros no son ciertas
En respuesta a la declaración del MUT, el ministro de Educación, Clifton Grima, insistió en que las propuestas del gobierno incluyen un salario inicial de 36.000 euros y amenazó con publicar todo el acuerdo propuesto.
El Sindicato de Profesores de Malta (MUT) ha refutado públicamente las afirmaciones del Ministro de Educación, Clifton Grima, sobre los aumentos salariales de los docentes.
El sábado, el MUT reaccionó a un artículo de ONE News, donde Grima animaba al sindicato a informar a sus miembros sobre las propuestas financieras del gobierno, afirmando que el paquete financiero incluye un salario inicial de 36.000 euros para los docentes, lo que representa un aumento de 10.000 euros. .
Las afirmaciones del ministro de aumentos de 10.000 euros y un salario inicial de 36.000 euros para los nuevos docentes no se reflejan en las propuestas financieras del gobierno al MUT, afirmó el sindicato. El MUT publicó extractos de la última propuesta del gobierno en su sitio web, que no muestran evidencia de estos supuestos aumentos.
En cambio, los documentos revelan aumentos propuestos en la carga docente, una pérdida de paridad entre las calificaciones actualmente equivalentes y atrasos salariales para 2024 excluyendo 2023.
El MUT acusó al gobierno de intentar salvar las apariencias desacreditando al sindicato en lugar de trabajar por una solución para el acuerdo sectorial. El sindicato destacó su determinación de seguir luchando por el reconocimiento y el trato justo de los educadores, y concluyó que sus afiliados ""no deben ser intimidados"".
El viernes, el MUT lanzó un ultimátum al gobierno sobre el acuerdo sectorial que aún no se ha acordado, ya que el sindicato también declaró un conflicto comercial con el gobierno.
Ministro de Educación responde a reclamos del MUT
En respuesta a la declaración del MUT del sábado, el ministro de Educación, Clifton Grima, insistió en que las propuestas del gobierno incluyen un salario inicial de 36.000 euros. ""Y este es sólo un aumento para una categoría de educadores"", dijo Grima. Señaló que las propuestas incluyen más aumentos que no requieren carga de trabajo ni calificaciones adicionales.
Grima reiteró su llamado al MUT para que informe plenamente a sus afiliados y agregó que el sindicato no hace referencia a las dos últimas reuniones entre el gobierno y el sindicato.
Grima amenazó con publicar todo el acuerdo propuesto si el MUT ""continúa compartiendo información selectiva que pinta una imagen falsa"".
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
—
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"Le MUT déclare que les affirmations du ministre concernant une proposition d'augmentation de 10 000 € du salaire des enseignants ne sont pas vraies
En réponse à la déclaration du MUT, le ministre de l'Éducation, Clifton Grima, a insisté sur le fait que les propositions du gouvernement prévoyaient un salaire de départ de 36 000 € et a menacé de publier l'intégralité de l'accord proposé.
Le Syndicat des enseignants de Malte (MUT) a publiquement réfuté les affirmations du ministre de l'Éducation, Clifton Grima, concernant les augmentations de salaire des enseignants.
Samedi, le MUT réagissait à un article de ONE News, dans lequel Grima encourageait le syndicat à informer ses membres des propositions financières du gouvernement, affirmant que le paquet financier comprend un salaire de départ de 36 000 € pour les enseignants, ce qui représente une augmentation de 10 000 €. .
Les affirmations du ministre concernant une augmentation de 10 000 euros et un salaire de départ de 36 000 euros pour les nouveaux enseignants ne se reflètent pas dans les propositions financières du gouvernement au MUT, a indiqué le syndicat. Le MUT a publié sur son site Internet des extraits de la dernière proposition du gouvernement, qui ne montrent aucune preuve de ces prétendues augmentations.
Au lieu de cela, les documents révèlent des propositions d'augmentation de la charge d'enseignement, une perte de parité entre les grades actuellement équivalents et des arriérés de salaire pour 2024 à l'exclusion de 2023.
Le MUT a accusé le gouvernement d'essayer de sauver la face en discréditant le syndicat plutôt qu'en travaillant à une solution pour l'accord sectoriel. Le syndicat a souligné sa détermination à continuer de lutter pour la reconnaissance et le traitement équitable des éducateurs, concluant que ses membres « ne doivent pas se laisser intimider ».
Vendredi, le MUT a lancé un ultimatum au gouvernement concernant l'accord sectoriel qui n'a pas encore été conclu, le syndicat ayant également déclaré un conflit commercial avec le gouvernement.
Le ministre de l'Éducation répond aux affirmations du MUT
En réponse à la déclaration du MUT samedi, le ministre de l'Éducation, Clifton Grima, a insisté sur le fait que les propositions du gouvernement incluent effectivement un salaire de départ de 36 000 €. ""Et ce n'est qu'une augmentation pour une catégorie d'éducateurs"", a déclaré Grima. Il a noté que les propositions incluent davantage d'augmentations qui ne nécessitent pas de charge de travail ou de qualifications supplémentaires.
Grima a réitéré son appel au MUT pour qu'il informe pleinement ses membres, ajoutant que le syndicat ne fait aucune référence aux deux dernières réunions entre le gouvernement et le syndicat.
Grima a menacé de publier l'intégralité de l'accord proposé si le MUT ""continuait à partager des informations sélectives qui donnent une fausse image"".
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
—
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"
"Laut MUT sind die Behauptungen des Ministers über die vorgeschlagene Erhöhung des Lehrergehalts um 10.000 Euro nicht wahr
In seiner Antwort auf die MUT-Erklärung bestand Bildungsminister Clifton Grima darauf, dass die Vorschläge der Regierung tatsächlich ein Einstiegsgehalt von 36.000 Euro vorsähen, und drohte mit der Veröffentlichung des gesamten vorgeschlagenen Deals
Die Malta Union of Teachers (MUT) hat Behauptungen des Bildungsministers Clifton Grima bezüglich Gehaltserhöhungen für Lehrer öffentlich zurückgewiesen.
Am Samstag reagierte die MUT auf einen Artikel von ONE News, in dem Grima die Gewerkschaft ermutigte, ihre Mitglieder über die Finanzvorschläge der Regierung zu informieren, indem er erklärte, dass das Finanzpaket ein Einstiegsgehalt von 36.000 Euro für Lehrer beinhaltet, was einer Erhöhung um 10.000 Euro entspricht .
Die Behauptungen des Ministers, Gehaltserhöhungen um 10.000 Euro und ein Einstiegsgehalt von 36.000 Euro für neue Lehrer seien nicht in den Finanzvorschlägen der Regierung für die MUT enthalten, sagte die Gewerkschaft. Die MUT veröffentlichte auf ihrer Website Auszüge aus dem neuesten Vorschlag der Regierung, die keine Beweise für diese behaupteten Erhöhungen enthalten.
Stattdessen offenbaren die Dokumente vorgeschlagene Erhöhungen des Lehrpensums, einen Verlust der Parität zwischen derzeit gleichwertigen Noten und Gehaltsrückstände für 2024 mit Ausnahme von 2023.
Die MUT warf der Regierung vor, sie versuche ihr Gesicht zu wahren, indem sie die Gewerkschaft diskreditiere, anstatt auf eine Lösung für die Branchenvereinbarung hinzuarbeiten. Die Gewerkschaft betonte ihre Entschlossenheit, weiterhin für die Anerkennung und faire Behandlung von Pädagogen zu kämpfen, und kam zu dem Schluss, dass ihre Mitglieder „sich nicht einschüchtern lassen dürfen“.
Am Freitag stellte die MUT der Regierung ein Ultimatum bezüglich der Branchenvereinbarung, auf die noch keine Einigung erzielt wurde, da die Gewerkschaft auch einen Handelsstreit mit der Regierung erklärte.
Bildungsminister antwortet auf MUT-Behauptungen
In seiner Antwort auf die MUT-Erklärung vom Samstag bestand Bildungsminister Clifton Grima darauf, dass die Vorschläge der Regierung tatsächlich ein Einstiegsgehalt von 36.000 Euro vorsähen. „Und das ist nur eine Gehaltserhöhung für eine Kategorie von Pädagogen“, sagte Grima. Er wies darauf hin, dass die Vorschläge mehr Gehaltserhöhungen vorsähen, die keine zusätzliche Arbeitsbelastung oder Qualifikationen erfordern.
Grima wiederholte seine Forderung an die MUT, ihre Mitglieder umfassend zu informieren, und fügte hinzu, dass die Gewerkschaft sich nicht auf die letzten beiden Treffen zwischen Regierung und Gewerkschaft beziehe.
Grima drohte damit, den gesamten geplanten Deal zu veröffentlichen, sollte die MUT „weiterhin selektive Informationen weitergeben, die ein falsches Bild zeichnen“.
https://www.maltatoday.com.mt/news/national/129250/mut_says_ministers_claims_of_proposed_10000_rise_in_teachers_salary_is_not_true
—
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https://www.reddit.com/SinoMaltaNews
"

Telus Araneta is Hiring for their In house account.

23,170 package + Up to 60k+++ incentives.
This is outbound lead sales.
Sa mga may sales experience dyan na solid 6 to 12 months or may sales metrics sa previous account mo. Pwede ka dito. Madali lang din hiring process. Currently need 200+ more headcounts for May 27 class, June and July classes
What to expect on the account?

1. Regularization increase and Annual increase
2. 15% night diff
3. Fixed weekend off
4. Canada holiday off
5. You can get up to 6 digits incentives (peak season is in November-December)
6. Premium outbound leads
7. No AHT and no survey just pure sales and retentions (renewal of contract)

Apply, get hired, and enjoy the following perks:

• 📷 FREE Shuttle
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• 📷 Shower Room
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• 📷600 regular load every month (SMART SIM)
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• 📷Telus International University - gives opportunity to study through subsidized tuition and classes
• 📷 Regularization and Annual Increase
• 📷 15% night differential pay
• 📷 21 Paid Leaves
• 📷 Birthday Leave
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• 📷 Life insurance We have virtual interview and can do walk ins as well.

Much prefer walk in kasi mabilis talaga process nila. DM me so I can assist you~ #HappyHere #TELUSPHHiring

Telus Araneta is Hiring for their In house account.

23,170 package + Up to 60k+++ incentives.
​
This is outbound lead sales.
Sa mga may sales experience dyan na solid 6 to 12 months or may sales metrics sa previous account mo. Pwede ka dito. Madali lang din hiring process. Currently need 200+ more headcounts for May 27 class, June and July classes
What to expect on the account?

1. Regularization increase and Annual increase
2. 15% night diff
3. Fixed weekend off
4. Canada holiday off
5. You can get up to 6 digits incentives (peak season is in November-December)
6. Premium outbound leads
7. No AHT and no survey just pure sales and retentions (renewal of contract)

​
Apply, get hired, and enjoy the following perks:

• 📷 FREE Shuttle
• 📷 FREE Gym with Instructor
• 📷 Shower Room
• 📷 Gaming Areas
• 📷 Sleeping Quarters
• 📷 Home room
• 📷600 regular load every month (SMART SIM)
• 📷 Rice allowance
• 📷 Meal allowance
• 📷 Uniform/Clothing allowance
• 📷 Laundry allowance
• 📷 Medical cash allowance
• 📷Telus International University - gives opportunity to study through subsidized tuition and classes
• 📷 Regularization and Annual Increase
• 📷 15% night differential pay
• 📷 21 Paid Leaves
• 📷 Birthday Leave
• 📷 HMO on day 1 with dental benefits
• 📷 Life insurance We have virtual interview and can do walk ins as well.
• ​

Much prefer walk in kasi mabilis talaga process nila. DM me so I can assist you~ #HappyHere #TELUSPHHiring

Telus Araneta is Hiring for their In house account.

23,170 package + Up to 60k+++ incentives.
​
This is outbound lead sales.
Sa mga may sales experience dyan na solid 6 to 12 months or may sales metrics sa previous account mo. Pwede ka dito. Madali lang din hiring process. Currently need 200+ more headcounts for May 27 class, June and July classes
What to expect on the account?

1. Regularization increase and Annual increase
2. 15% night diff
3. Fixed weekend off
4. Canada holiday off
5. You can get up to 6 digits incentives (peak season is in November-December)
6. Premium outbound leads
7. No AHT and no survey just pure sales and retentions (renewal of contract)

​
Apply, get hired, and enjoy the following perks:

• 📷 FREE Shuttle
• 📷 FREE Gym with Instructor
• 📷 Shower Room
• 📷 Gaming Areas
• 📷 Sleeping Quarters
• 📷 Home room
• 📷600 regular load every month (SMART SIM)
• 📷 Rice allowance
• 📷 Meal allowance
• 📷 Uniform/Clothing allowance
• 📷 Laundry allowance
• 📷 Medical cash allowance
• 📷Telus International University - gives opportunity to study through subsidized tuition and classes
• 📷 Regularization and Annual Increase
• 📷 15% night differential pay
• 📷 21 Paid Leaves
• 📷 Birthday Leave
• 📷 HMO on day 1 with dental benefits
• 📷 Life insurance We have virtual interview and can do walk ins as well.
• ​

Much prefer walk in kasi mabilis talaga process nila. DM me so I can assist you~ #HappyHere #TELUSPHHiring

I'm totally new to the bowl and read a lot in this sub before deciding to share my story here. So please be gentle with me as I seek answers and advices from more experienced people in this community. Sorry for the novel.
This is my story:
I'm a Canadian female in her mid-30's. Since the nature of my work allows me to work 100% remotly, I finally realised a big goal of mine this year and spent the winter in the Caribbean. Six months of winter is not really my forte haha! I really enjoyed the lifestyle and made a lot of wonderful friends. Needless to say, I was living my best life in my bikinis, soaking up the tropical sun.
And when I thought things couldn't get any better, I met this man, an American in is mid-50's through mutual friends at a bar. He was obvioulsy very interested in me and wanted to go on a date. I vanilla dated older guys before (10y) but never someone with that age gap. That said, I'm in a point in my life where I'm over dating boys who don't have their act together. I want a man who will elevate me, not drags me down. Plus, our mutual friends being sneaky little matchmakers that they are lol, told me that he was a real gentleman and a very successful businessman. Off to a good start!
We clicked on our first date and discovered that we had A LOT in common. He too works remotely, except when he has occasional meetings in the States, we both loveeeee to travel, we both practice water sports, we both grew up skiing, and the list goes on. He actually stays in the Caribbean almost half the year since it's his second residency.
For the first three weeks or so, we dated 3-4 times a week, mostly for diner dates and fun activities on the weekend. He spoiled me so much, sending lunch deliveries everyday, flowers and gifts, etc. And then we started to get intimate and had so much fun in the bedroom which I think was a relief for both of us haha!
But then, not long after, I lost my main client and source of income (thanks to the recession -_- ). I was so stressed out and heartbroken that my dream life of traveling while working remotly might slip throught my fingers after working sooo hard to get there. When I told him about my financial struggles, he would answer back not to worry about money. But then I was thinking to myself that diner dates and gifts don't pay my bills lol.
So after reading many many posts in here on SLF, I took matters into my own hands and sat down with him to ask him what he meant by "not worrying about money". He told me that he would cover all my bills from now on, but that he didn't want me to stay with him just because of the money, which I thought was fair. I couldn't spend that much time with someone whose company I didn't enjoy anyway. I told him I'd be comfortable with an allowance agreement and he agreed on an amount higher then my monthly salary. He replied that he'd never done that for a girl before when I asked him, as it was the first time for me too. I was a little surprised when he told me this because he behaved like a SD by spoiling me and taking care of me like he did. He also gave me what we jokingly call a starter package lol of the generous amount of xx,xxx to invest money for my retirement. I just couldn't believe it tbh but my bank account surely did!
Since then, we've spent a week at his place in the States, before heading off a week later to another city for a music festival. We really had a blast. It had been a very long time since I'd had so much fun and felt so comfortable and valued with a man. After the festival, I went home to Canada and he went back to his home. The plan was to meet up again in NYC before going on a two-week trip to Europe. The plan was also for me to stay on my own for two more weeks in Europe to visit friends. But he cancelled the trip at the last minute because a family member had a medical emergency on the day I was due to fly, and also because shit hit the fan at work. He felt so bad about it, even though I reminded him that he couldn't control such events. Still, he rebooked all my flights and accommodation so I could go and see my friends and spend a summer vacation in Europe. Again I just couldn't believe it!
Over the past few months, I've met some of his family members and closest friends. He is divorced and on good terms with his ex-wife. He had a girlfriend in his age range for a while. Both ex-wife and ex-girlfriend are very successful ladies. He also dated younger hot girls hehe. We have great communication and honesty with each other. We make each other laugh. It's so nice to have someone who cares for me the way he does. This sounds like a made-up story, believe me, even sometimes I wonder why me haha!
My questions for you would be:

1. Is he a SD? Is he a SBF? I know he doesn't really like the term SD
2. Does it make me a SB? Or a SGF? Or something else?
3. What is your experience with on and off long-distance SR? Ex: 2-3 months together then 1-2 months long-distance and so on
4. Long-distance SD or SBF, when visit your SB ou SGF, do you prefer going to a hotel or to her place?

Thank you so much for reading this!

Hello 32 Points Manning Database. We do not charge mariners any recruiting fees for job placement. Feel free to share this information. We are looking for applicants to fill the following job:
POSITION: AB UNLIMITED for an international tug company predominantly working government contracts in the South Pacific.
JOB TYPE & START DATE: This is an approximate 10 day tug delivery, then working five days a week in the harbor and going home on the weekends and at night. Light workload.
COMPANY INFORMATION: This is one of our long standing Tug companies working government contracts in the South Pacific. Very relaxed atmosphere in a tropical location.
REQUIREMENTS:
(A) USCG LICENSE/CREDENTIAL REQUIRED: AB UNLIMITED with STCW
(B) STCW REQUIRED: AB-DECK
(C) CERTIFICATIONS REQUIRED or PREFERRED: Must have valid passport
(D) SPECIFIC EXPERIENCE /BACKGROUND: MUST HAVE TUG EXPERIENCE
(E) PHYSICAL/MEDICAL REQUIRED: Valid USCG Medical Cert with current STCW date.
(F) RELOCATION OR SPECIAL SITUATIONAL REQUIREMENTS: None.
VESSEL TYPE : 200-500 TON TUG
ROTATION OR SCHEDULE: 30 DAYS STRAIGHT TIME, WITH A POSSIBLE EXTENSION IF YOU WISH.
PAY INFO $400/day, BUT you get paid for every day you are there whether you’re working or not.
TRANSPORTATION All transportation fully arranged and covered for you.
BENEFITS: GENEROUS BENEFITS PACKAGE FOR PERMANENT EMPLOYEES
NOTES: Seriously good opportunity for anyone looking for a laid-back position working on an island.
If you are interested please contact us:[Kiera@32pointsmanning.com](mailto:Kiera@32pointsmanning.com) (818)943-7261 OR[Alicia@32pointsmanning.com](mailto:Alicia@32pointsmanning.com) (904)305-1565OR[Willis@32pointsmanning.com](mailto:Willis@32pointsmanning.com) (228)355-0609

I received my second shipment today and the outside package was HOT. Inside, the medication bottle tested 82 degrees!!! I’m waiting to hear back from Eden.
It was on my porch for less than 30 mins. It was hot long before it was delivered!

This is the first time it happened. I usually have pretty regular stools. I just went to the bathroom and it was the color of a very milky coffee. The consistency was soft but solid enough to hold together.
The only thing that I've eaten that's different from my normal diet is some orange chicken I had around midnight last night, so about 12 hours ago. I have a pretty high fiber diet, with a mix of high fiber foods and taking fiber supplements/high fiber tortilla wraps.
I just checked and it says it could likely a bile duct issue. My aunt passed from bile duct cancer a few years ago so that worries me quite a bit. I also have been extremely irritable and on edge for the last two or three weeks and have slumped into a really bad depression, though I don't know how relevant that might be. I am on medication but that hasn't changed much recently. I dropped from 50mg of sertraline to 25mg. Thats been about 4 weeks now though. Aside from that everything has been pretty static.
The only other thing I could think of is I came into contact with some medication at work (I have a job that puts me into contact with medications coming mostly from south and central America into the US). That started Tuesday though and for the most part, a majority of what I've seen is diclofenac and ampicillin. I also had some exposure to bulk powder kratom on Monday as well. All the drugs were packaged with the exception of a pill or two that had popped out of the blister pack. The kratom I handled, I used sterile gloves but it being a very fine powder, it was hard to not get everywhere
I'm going to schedule a doctor's appointment this upcoming week or as soon as they can take me to check that. I've been concerned with some other things and haven't gotten a blood test done in a while either so it's something I wanted to get done anyways.
Also, this is the only time it happened, maybe the orange chicken caused some issues with the color? I've had darker stools before due to lower rectal bleeding but those turned out to be nothing more than just minor tears around the sphincter that happened due to either a larger load or just constipation and pushing. But I've never had stool this color. So it is worrisome.

Everybody who plays video games regularly knows that games frequently ignore reality in the name of fun. Why are there health packs and ammo lying around for the Doom marine to find? How can Mario jump so high? Why does floor chicken heal my vampire hunter, and why is it there? More realistic games, and games that edge into "survival" game territory, give more and more nods to realism but still abstract a bunch of stuff like the need to regularly visit a toilet. (Yes, I've heard of Death Stranding and I'm sure there are other games that involve toilets that you're only going to see reviews of on Patreon.)
Starfield is interesting in how many of these things are actually justified in lore.
Space Travel: In-game you can find characters who talk about how space travel is made as idiot-proof as possible thanks to sophisticated control software. Space suits are also pretty idiot-proof. You start the game watching Lin and Heller put on their suits and it is trivially easy. You can lookup videos online of actual astronauts demonstrating the process in today's tech and it is a lot more involved. Add in the fact that the suits in game obviously can repair themselves from punctures and erosion of environmental protections. For that matter, ships have self-repair routines. The ubiquitous vacuum tape is a nod to the fact that slapping some tape on something to hold it together long enough for the self-repair to work is all that's necessary.
What's interesting is that as you explore, you will find LOTS AND LOTS OF DEAD PEOPLE. Derelict spaceships, crashes, survivalists and scientists dead on the ground are all in abundance. Space is still massively dangerous...just like driving a car is one of the most dangerous things you can do today. It's still something tons of folks do, including casual tourists and school field trips.
Of course, they could have just hand-waved all of that like Star Wars, but they didn't and I think it makes for a better game.
Medicine: One of the things I love about the Fallout TV show is that they play the medical care completely straight with the games. A stimpak can heal you up and limbs can be reattached and be fully functional. Starfield has 24th century medicine and it is pretty much magical. What's not necessarily obvious at first glance, though, is that there are indications that when humanity fled Earth, a lot of effort went into making humanity capable of surviving in a variety of alien environments. The diaspora through the Settled Systems had to have focused a lot of attention on biology and medicine.
I find this completely believable. I'm old enough that I've had invasive abdominal surgery more than once. A difference of just thirty years between instances was enough to massively alter the experience. The first time, I got scars and a long recovery period. The second time I went home right afterward. I have no doubt that in 300 years I can just walk into an Enhance! and look however I want.
Firearms: This is an area where they massively ignore reality in favor of gameplay convenience. While firearms (with some exceptions) tend to be reasonably robust devices, they aren't designed to work outside of an Earth-standard environment (because they don't need to be). Most of the "Old Earth" firearms should fail to fire in most of the hostile environments in the game. Vacuum welding is a thing...and who here thinks a gun would fire on the surface of Venus?
Let's assume Combatech, Alliance, and Laredo ballistic weapons are designed to operate in vacuum with the right alloys and polymers, plus caseless ammo that might be triggered via electrical currents instead of mechanical parts. It would make sense that the great power arms suppliers would meet the needs of space and hostile environmental combat. Even with that, ballistic trajectories would vary dramatically in different atmospheres and gravity fields, and there is only so much on-board electronics could offset. Energy weapons would also behave differently in different environments. You can find papers online describing the effect atmosphere has on lasers.
I don't know that a completely realistic portrayal could be fun. It might be interesting, though, if different types of weapons had advantages and disadvantages based upon the environment. We get a tiny view of that with lasers not suffering recoil in zero-G.
Survival: So, this isn't going to be a completely fair conversation because survival mode is a work in progress in the game. We've already stated that starships and suits are self-repairing and idiot-proof. Here are some of the nods to survival that I really like in the game:

• Chunks make perfect sense. Ignoring all the jokes about how it is made, you absolutely want a source of nutrition that is easy to store, lasts forever, and is palatable enough that folks will actually consume it as a type of fast food. The Earth sources of protein seem to all be vat grown, possibly with the exception of legumes, so Chunks is probably the convenience-oriented version of that. For that matter, it's likely that many packaged goods are nutritionally fortified in ways that make "junk" food a lot healthier than today. Many of the drawbacks to it may be psychological instead of physiological.
• Titan Astrobase was used to develop a standard pattern for habitats for alien worlds, and those patterns are used over and over again. Even outposts on breathable worlds still have airlocks and given the risks of different types of contaminants, this is completely believable and sensible. Those habs would provide you with complete protection from environmental threats.
• Spacesuits are not magical forcefields that keep away everything. I've said this before -- a suit is intended to keep you alive in a hostile environment. It cannot make you immune to strong radiation sources, prevent microparticle contamination or gas leaching, resist strong acids, etc. There is clearly an active element to suit function and those mechanisms will work to offset things like heat in the hundreds of degrees Celsius, but eventually they get overwhelmed and you start taking damage. While the systems still need some balancing and elaboration, the basic premise is sound. People (even me) often overlook just how hostile some of these environments are.
• I've made comments that I felt like alcohol needed more negative side effects. Given the thought I've put into medicine in the 24th century, though...I may revise that sentiment. If you can get people to survive and thrive in different alien environments, how hard is it to believe that addiction mechanisms have been tweaked. It's possible that the reason addiction only matters for Aurora and the Frostwolf family of chems is because humans just aren't as prone to such things anymore. A genetically engineered liver that can neutralize ethanol may make whiskey a reasonable source of hydration after all.

Communications: It isn't obvious, but everybody has radios and can communicate with each other. When you help out Louisa in The Well, she guides you via radio. You also have no problem talking to others, even when you're all wearing spacesuits. What does not appear to exist is FTL communications. So, when somebody wants you to deliver a message to another person in another star system, that's somewhat justified. Sometimes this doesn't work. Delgado doesn't seem to be able to communicate with you in the Lock, but it's possible that a prison would be designed to prevent easy communication without landlines. Similarly, you can't just radio to another planet even the same system without a booster of some kind (such as with the quest Failure to Communicate). Large batches of data also sometimes need hand delivery with data slates. That would make a certain amount of sense, as bandwidth limitations are a thing. A certain tree quest comes to mind, here.
Communications tech complicates things for scriptwriters, but I'm surprised at how hard it is for me to find examples of that being a problem in game. It is a little weird that your parents just drop you messages at the Lodge rather than just sending you an e-mail, but you could argue that your "job" takes you out of the system regularly and they know you'll return to the Lodge eventually. Most of the fetch quests involve physical goods or sensitive materials.
So, what categories am I missing? Do you disagree with my thoughts in these areas?

I didn’t know breastfeeding would be so hard. I had a scheduled c-section on Thursday at 8 AM, and in retrospect, I don’t think I fed my baby anything until Friday at 4 AM.
Lactation nurses came to my room to help the baby latch on, but he would cry so much (his face/body turning red), or if he got latched on with the help but he would fall asleep and stop sucking.
He did have 5 wet diapers but no bowl movement on Day 1. I didn’t even think about asking for formula bottles because I thought he got something from my breasts due to wet diapers.
The baby became inconsolable around Friday, 2-3 AM, and my husband went home to bring a formula bottle. The sterilization/bottles/pumps are all still in boxes because I thought I would breastfeed. Anyway, I asked the nurse for a formula bottle, and thankfully, they had individually packaged the formula bottle.
And the baby chugged it down and slept well. I felt so guilty thinking how hungry he must’ve been!
Honestly, I couldn't be as attentive to the baby because I ended up with a medical issue myself - unable to meet urine output after the c-section from the catheter bag - they kept me on the catheter longer and kept giving me fluid IV bags (5 total) and making me drink water to increase urine output. I still couldn't meet the criteria, but that's another story. I think my bladder just became “paralyzed” with the spinal nerve block anesthesia.