This letter is to my past lovers. I have become a more grounded less toxic version of myself thanks to them. Granted it was due to the drama that went on in the relationships. I learned a lot from each. Well let’s jump into it. M! Our relationships were the definition of toxic! 😂 I said relationships because of how many times we broke up and got together. I look back in humor because we had no business trying to be in a relationship. We tried and failed repeatedly. We were too broken souls when we met trying to patch each other up. We both did things in that relationship that we are not proud of. Me especially I was basically spiraling the whole time. I was an asshole that believed himself to be a nice guy. Ugh I was so cringe. I have already given my apologies to you. We still speak now however I don’t think we will be giving it one last try. Even though we are amicable now. We have both done damage to each other. It’s forgiven but never forgotten. I appreciate your support and your wisdom. Especially when I’m in my emotional lows which is happening a lot more. You have come so far in your healing process I couldn’t be more proud. You are amazing.
Now for my most recent past lover…..E. I am not going to sugar coat it. You broke me in every sense of the word. Our break up trigger basically every last trauma I had. Everything came to the surface. I was shaking, crying, yodeling! IDFK. I was struggling. I know, I can have moments where I am hot and cold. I know I didn’t handle every argument correctly with you. I definitely didn’t take into consideration how emotionally charged you get. We didn’t go on dates which I am immensely sorry for. I was emotionally lockdown for the most part. I had a wall up but you got through it and you saw me. You saw my emotions unhinged and unfiltered, you saw my slip ups when I loosened up my defenses. I let you in. I opened a path for you to get to know me and not the persona I show everyone else. Then you left. You left me in such a cold and fast manner. I felt casted away, thrown overboard, abandoned! Which is probably why it triggered my child traumas and some.
Am I upset with you? Oh yeah I was I felt like every conversation and plan we had you balled up in your hands and stepped on them. That lasted for like a week. Then I found out about the other guy. I won’t put his name out there. It all made sense after that. You weren’t happy and you went to what you think is the better option. I can’t fault you for that. As hard as that situation was. It helped me realize my own faults. I am still broken. I started seeing a therapist. I am working on my unresolved traumas. I am improving myself so I can be vulnerable with my person not closed off like I’m so known for. All that aside I wish you nothing but the best. I want you to be happy. I want you to realize that everything happens for a reason. I was placed in your path so that you could help me realize I didn’t allow love in. Real unconditional love. You awakened that in me and I am forever grateful to you for it.
You do not want to stay in contact so I will not be reaching out. I still think about you constantly. It’s not a sad or I miss you so much thought. It’s a I hope you are happy and getting showered in love thought. Everyone deserves love thank you for showing me. This letter is to both of my past lovers that had a hand in showing me unconditional love and awakening that in me. If you ever need me don’t be afraid to call. I value you deeply.
-MB

This letter is to my past lovers. I have become a more grounded less toxic version of myself thanks to them. Granted it was due to the drama that went on in the relationships. I learned a lot from each. Well let’s jump into it. M! Our relationships were the definition of toxic! 😂 I said relationships because of how many times we broke up and got together. I look back in humor because we had no business trying to be in a relationship. We tried and failed repeatedly. We were too broken souls when we met trying to patch each other up. We both did things in that relationship that we are not proud of. Me especially I was basically spiraling the whole time. I was an asshole that believed himself to be a nice guy. Ugh I was so cringe. I have already given my apologies to you. We still speak now however I don’t think we will be giving it one last try. Even though we are amicable now. We have both done damage to each other. It’s forgiven but never forgotten. I appreciate your support and your wisdom. Especially when I’m in my emotional lows which is happening a lot more. You have come so far in your healing process I couldn’t be more proud. You are amazing.
Now for my most recent past lover…..E. I am not going to sugar coat it. You broke me in every sense of the word. Our break up trigger basically every last trauma I had. Everything came to the surface. I was shaking, crying, yodeling! IDFK. I was struggling. I know, I can have moments where I am hot and cold. I know I didn’t handle every argument correctly with you. I definitely didn’t take into consideration how emotionally charged you get. We didn’t go on dates which I am immensely sorry for. I was emotionally lockdown for the most part. I had a wall up but you got through it and you saw me. You saw my emotions unhinged and unfiltered, you saw my slip ups when I loosened up my defenses. I let you in. I opened a path for you to get to know me and not the persona I show everyone else. Then you left. You left me in such a cold and fast manner. I felt casted away, thrown overboard, abandoned! Which is probably why it triggered my child traumas and some.
Am I upset with you? Oh yeah I was I felt like every conversation and plan we had you balled up in your hands and stepped on them. That lasted for like a week. Then I found out about the other guy. I won’t put his name out there. It all made sense after that. You weren’t happy and you went to what you think is the better option. I can’t fault you for that. As hard as that situation was. It helped me realize my own faults. I am still broken. I started seeing a therapist. I am working on my unresolved traumas. I am improving myself so I can be vulnerable with my person not closed off like I’m so known for. All that aside I wish you nothing but the best. I want you to be happy. I want you to realize that everything happens for a reason. I was placed in your path so that you could help me realize I didn’t allow love in. Real unconditional love. You awakened that in me and I am forever grateful to you for it.
You do not want to stay in contact so I will not be reaching out. I still think about you constantly. It’s not a sad or I miss you so much thought. It’s a I hope you are happy and getting showered in love thought. Everyone deserves love thank you for showing me. This letter is to both of my past lovers that had a hand in showing me unconditional love and awakening that in me. If you ever need me don’t be afraid to call. I value you deeply.
-MB

This letter is to my past lovers. I have become a more grounded less toxic version of myself thanks to them. Granted it was due to the drama that went on in the relationships. I learned a lot from each. Well let’s jump into it. M! Our relationships were the definition of toxic! 😂 I said relationships because of how many times we broke up and got together. I look back in humor because we had no business trying to be in a relationship. We tried and failed repeatedly. We were too broken souls when we met trying to patch each other up. We both did things in that relationship that we are not proud of. Me especially I was basically spiraling the whole time. I was an asshole that believed himself to be a nice guy. Ugh I was so cringe. I have already given my apologies to you. We still speak now however I don’t think we will be giving it one last try. Even though we are amicable now. We have both done damage to each other. It’s forgiven but never forgotten. I appreciate your support and your wisdom. Especially when I’m in my emotional lows which is happening a lot more. You have come so far in your healing process I couldn’t be more proud. You are amazing.
Now for my most recent past lover…..E. I am not going to sugar coat it. You broke me in every sense of the word. Our break up trigger basically every last trauma I had. Everything came to the surface. I was shaking, crying, yodeling! IDFK. I was struggling. I know, I can have moments where I am hot and cold. I know I didn’t handle every argument correctly with you. I definitely didn’t take into consideration how emotionally charged you get. We didn’t go on dates which I am immensely sorry for. I was emotionally lockdown for the most part. I had a wall up but you got through it and you saw me. You saw my emotions unhinged and unfiltered, you saw my slip ups when I loosened up my defenses. I let you in. I opened a path for you to get to know me and not the persona I show everyone else. Then you left. You left me in such a cold and fast manner. I felt casted away, thrown overboard, abandoned! Which is probably why it triggered my child traumas and some.
Am I upset with you? Oh yeah I was I felt like every conversation and plan we had you balled up in your hands and stepped on them. That lasted for like a week. Then I found out about the other guy. I won’t put his name out there. It all made sense after that. You weren’t happy and you went to what you think is the better option. I can’t fault you for that. As hard as that situation was. It helped me realize my own faults. I am still broken. I started seeing a therapist. I am working on my unresolved traumas. I am improving myself so I can be vulnerable with my person not closed off like I’m so known for. All that aside I wish you nothing but the best. I want you to be happy. I want you to realize that everything happens for a reason. I was placed in your path so that you could help me realize I didn’t allow love in. Real unconditional love. You awakened that in me and I am forever grateful to you for it.
You do not want to stay in contact so I will not be reaching out. I still think about you constantly. It’s not a sad or I miss you so much thought. It’s a I hope you are happy and getting showered in love thought. Everyone deserves love thank you for showing me. This letter is to both of my past lovers that had a hand in showing me unconditional love and awakening that in me. If you ever need me don’t be afraid to call. I value you deeply.
-MB

It's essential to focus on continual improvement and resilience. Many successful authors faced rejection before achieving success. J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, received numerous rejections initially. Stephen King's first novel was rejected dozens of times. Agatha Christie, Dr. Seuss, and Margaret Mitchell all encountered rejection before finding success. Remember, rejection is a part of the journey, and perseverance in honing your craft is key. Focus on refining your writing, seeking feedback, and staying persistent in your pursuit.
Here are a few strategies to help navigate the journey as a writer:

1. Persistency: Keep writing and submitting your work. Each rejection can provide valuable lessons and insights into improving your writing. Don't let setbacks deter you from continuing to create.
   
2. Feedback and Improvement: Seek feedback from peers, writing groups, or mentors. Constructive criticism can help identify areas for improvement and guide your growth as a writer.
   
3. Diversify Submissions: Consider submitting your work to various publishers, agents, or literary magazines. Sometimes, a rejection from one might not reflect the response you'll receive from another.
   
4. Stay Motivated: Surround yourself with inspiration. Read books, attend writing workshops, or engage with other creatives to stay motivated and connected within the writing community.
   
5. Self-Care: Take care of your mental and emotional well-being. Rejections can be tough, so it's crucial to practice self-compassion and maintain a healthy perspective on your writing journey.
   

Remember, many renowned authors faced rejection before achieving success. Your persistence, dedication to improvement, and belief in your craft are vital elements that can lead you toward success as a writer.
6Here are a few more tips to help maintain motivation and progress as a writer:

1. Set Realistic Goals: Establish achievable writing goals. Whether it's a daily word count, finishing a chapter, or completing a manuscript by a specific deadline, setting realistic targets can keep you focused and motivated.
   
2. Embrace Revisions: Recognize that writing is rewriting. Embrace the revision process as an opportunity to polish your work. Revisions often lead to stronger storytelling and better-crafted prose.
   
3. Connect with the Writing Community: Engage with other writers through social media, forums, or local writing groups. Networking can provide support, encouragement, and valuable insights into the publishing industry.
   
4. Learn from Rejections: Instead of viewing rejections as failures, consider them as stepping stones toward success. Analyze feedback, if available, and use it constructively to refine your writing.
   
5. Believe in Your Voice: Each writer has a unique voice. Embrace your style and perspective. Authenticity in storytelling often resonates with readers.
   

Lastly, remember that every successful author faced challenges and setbacks along their journey. It's the perseverance, commitment to improvement, and belief in their work that helped them overcome rejection and achieve success. Keep writing, stay resilient, and believe in your potential as a writer.
Here are quotes from some well-known authors who faced rejection before finding success:

1. J.K. Rowling (Author of Harry Potter series):
   

   "Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me."
   

2. Stephen King (Author of numerous bestsellers):
   

   "By the time I was fourteen the nail in my wall would no longer support the weight of the rejection slips impaled upon it. I replaced the nail with a spike and kept on writing."
   

3. Agatha Christie (Renowned mystery novelist):
   

   "I don't think necessity is the mother of invention. Invention, in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness - to save oneself trouble."
   

4. Dr. Seuss (Author of beloved children's books):
   

   "I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope."
   

5. Margaret Mitchell (Author of "Gone with the Wind"):
   

   "Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get and are thankful it's no worse than it is."
   

These authors encountered rejection and setbacks on their paths to success but persisted in their writing endeavors, ultimately achieving acclaim for their work. Their quotes reflect their resilience, determination, and belief in their craft despite facing initial rejection.
Here are a few more quotes from authors who experienced rejection before achieving success:

1. Louisa May Alcott (Author of "Little Women"):
   

   "I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship."
   

2. George Orwell (Author of "1984" and "Animal Farm"):
   

   "Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand."
   

3. John Grisham (Bestselling author of legal thrillers):
   

   "I faced rejection and constant criticism, but I never let up. I continued to persevere and pursued my writing passion."
   

4. Madeleine L'Engle (Author of "A Wrinkle in Time"):
   

   "You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children."
   

5. Ray Bradbury (Author of "Fahrenheit 451"):
   

   "You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."
   

These authors persisted through rejection, adversity, and doubts, yet remained dedicated to their writing. Their words reflect the perseverance, passion, and determination that ultimately led them to success in the literary world.
💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫🐔🐔🐔🐔 So in handling rejection as a writer and finding inspiration from authors who faced rejection before achieving success, this article has provided:

1. Strategies to stay motivated and improve as a writer, including persistence, seeking feedback, diversifying submissions, staying motivated, and practicing self-care.
2. Additional tips like setting goals, embracing revisions, connecting with the writing community, learning from rejections, and embracing your unique voice.
3. Quotes from various renowned authors such as J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, Agatha Christie, Dr. Seuss, Margaret Mitchell, Louisa May Alcott, George Orwell, John Grisham, Madeleine L'Engle, and Ray Bradbury. These quotes highlight their resilience, determination, and belief in their craft despite facing rejection, ultimately leading to their success as authors.

The overarching message is to persist in writing, seek improvement, learn from setbacks, stay connected with the writing community, and believe in your unique voice as a writer, drawing inspiration from the experiences of successful authors who overcame rejection on their paths to success.

i've dabbled with unreal engines blueprints, and only vaguely understood them. i then switched over to godot because then everything i make will be mine, and i wont owe a company a cut of my profits so i dont have to worry getting started, and im following a few godot tutorials on skillshare. my question is: is there an open and welcome community that i can join, thats like a class with other people learning, thats more personal than following a pre-recorded video tutorial? would it be ok if, not understanding much, i can "spam" this reddit with questions or be pointed to a place where thats more acceptable?
i've wanted to make games all my life, but due to my early upbringings at first, i wasnt safely able to persue that, and then with learned helplessness/apathy/enui, its just taking me now at 30 to start on my dream.
i'd like to make 3d games for the most part, or anthology games where i can switch between 3d and 2d on a case by case basis in engine.
i have a decent idea for my first game, and im an excellent ideas person, but i dont want to get a community of people that im working with untill i know i can afford paying back those who help me create something
i'd also like to do the same with Blender itself
my first game i'd like to be an homage to thief, so i have my first first steps as this: learn how to make a character walk, crouch, run, lean, creep, and jump in first person learn how to make "specific case" movement such as swimming, climbing rope or ladders, and lifting oneself up a ledge, learn how to interact with buttons and levers (assuming doors can count as a lever in disguise basically)
and learn how to interact with items, collecting loot, and using items as needed/created, counting ammo fo spawned from a crossbow/bow type weapon as a type of item

TL;DR: boyfriend (M30) learnt my native language secretly to listen in on what my me (F30) and my family talk about.
Some basic info on us that I think is relevant:
My bf, come from a kind of rich country in europe, and has been living in the secondary country for all of his life. He has a good job but has had bad relationships in the past.
I (GF) come from a comparitively under-developed country and met my bf on holiday to visit my brother in the secondary country.
I met my boyfriend about 3.5 years ago, we spoke for a year while he visited almost every month even though it is far, he sorted out having me move to the secondary country where I have been living with him for 2.5 year. So far it has been great, he's kind, smart and very charismatic. I know all of his friends and family and nobody has said anything bad about him or mentioned anything about him learning my language so I think they do not know.
All my family speaks English fully but we default to a kind of small dialect of a language when I am home, they are here, or I am on the phone. He has no links to this community other than his step-dad who is from the same place as me, but has never hinted or even joked that my bf knows our language.
So. On with the story.
We were both home today, he is working on his laptop and someone from his work comes to the door and he has to leave urgently. This happens sometimes and is not unusual.
After a while I walk by the table he works on near the kitchen, and see that his laptop is still on and unlocked, with a document open in my native dialect, which as far as I knew he only knows a maximum of 5 words. I know it's bad of me, but I decided to snoop. I know that is dishonest of me but you can't not see the screen when you go to the kitchen and this isn't exactly something you would ignore, because its so unexpected.
I looked through the document, and it's basically small notes on a conversation I had with my brother earlier where my bf has listed down some slang phrases we used, which i thought was odd as my bf doesn't speak my language and incredibly intrusive (i know, irony). So by now I have to know more, so I carried on looking at his laptop and I saw a folder titled with my language and can see in there that he has been paying for lessons for almost 3 years and I can see all of his notes, which include writing practice stories in my language, letters and even watching tv shows. So I can see that he isn't just learning basic phrases, he has a very extremely advanced knowledge and understands almost everything, including slang we use.
Following on from this, I see messages between him and his tutor, explicitly saying that he is learning the language not to talk, but only to listen to me my family and my friends to see if we are looking to hurt him and if I mention something to a friend indicating that I'm cheating etc.
By now I'm angry, I know it probably look bad since I just admitted to snooping, but I've never given him a reason to think I'm scamming him or whatever, and I don't intend to.
Also, whenever I have been with family, he has made me translate what they are saying into English almost every day for 3.5 years while he has played dumb like he doesn't understand anything other than hello and give me beer.
Should I confront him and let him know all of this? some of this? I don't think I can ignore it as it is bothering me so much and I'm sure he will be back later tonight and he will know something is wrong. I love him of course, but I feel betrayed and now I'm worried about other things he may be hiding.

F20, 115 lbs, 5’4, history of anxiety, depression, and cyclothymia. Family history of hypothyroidism, depression, and paternal vascular dementia (my grandfather had it). Severe health anxiety that started about 10 months ago. I used to take anti depressants and mood stabilizers but haven’t been able to continue them in the last year or so due to my psychiatrist retiring.
I’ll try to keep this as short as possible, but I’ve done a ton of googling and research and keep coming up empty. I’m wondering if anyone has seen this “presentation” of symptoms before.
About ten-ish months ago I started having memory problems- I had word finding difficulties, severe headaches, and I lost things all the time. This was unlike me as my memory had always been sharp in highschool. I began to worry that I had a brain tumor, but I got a CT scan and the results were “unremarkable”. Since then I have had health anxiety relating to ALS (full body twitches, bad memory, etc) but that eventually went away after a few months. According to my boyfriend, my bad memory is episodic- it’ll be alright for a few weeks and then become bad again. With each episode, however, it seems to get worse.
I was ok-ish for a while but recently, my memory has been dreadful - I have short term memory issues. I can’t remember what happened a few seconds ago. I misplace and lose things frequently. I forget what tasks have to be done and often have to ask people to repeat themselves. I’ve started to lose the ability to do complex tasks.
-I struggle with hear, reading, and writing, specifically with words and complex sentences. I frequently mis-hear words or don’t really hear what people are saying to me at all. I see their mouth moving, I know they are saying something, it’s just not registering in my head. I usually have to ask them to repeat themselves. Today I thought people were saying completely different words than they actually were (car instead of club, etc). I struggle with writing. My hand writes things I didn’t ask it to, like today it wrote “where” instead of “like”. It adds strokes to letters that I write or completely misspells the word. I usually write something phonetically similar like write instead right or tight, or they instead of the, so on and so forth. I’ve forgot how to spell simple words I’ve been spelling for years.
-I’m seeing things, but not really seeing them, in a way. It’s like I see things half way. For example, at work, someone gave me their rewards card and I scanned it like it was an item. I was confused as to why the item wasn’t coming up and then realized it was a rewards card and not an item. It’s like my brain sees the barcode, but not the rest of the card and doesn’t recognize that it’s something separate that needs a separate procedure. Another example I could give is that I left a drawer partly open because that is what we do with till drawers once we take the money out for the night. But the drawer I left open wasn’t a till drawer, it was an actual drawer. It’s like my brain saw drawer and immediately thought to keep it open. Kind of like my short term memory isn’t working so my long term memory steps in. My eyes always feel glazed over, like I’m half way between seeing and my vision being hazy. Almost like I can see things clearly but my brain Is seeing them as fuzzy and not really recognizing what’s in front of me.
-it feels kinda like I’m in a dream. I have a hard time expressing myself, and I have word finding difficulties frequently. I often say things without thinking because I know I’m supposed to say something but my brain doesn’t recognize what yet. I’m confused often. It doesn’t feel like I’m fully “there”, like I’m on autopilot constantly and I don’t know how to shut it off. Even after 12 hours of sleep, I’m exhausted. I often can’t recognize how much time has passed.
I tried to find answers for these symptoms and the only answers I could find to memory and word problems was dementia or Primary progressive aphasia. I’m especially worried about the writing and spelling as these don’t seem to be a common symptoms of any mental health disorder. Any advice or even guesses would be truly appreciated.

Hi everyone,
I’m reaching out to this community in the hopes of getting some advice and support regarding my recent admission experience with Seneca Polytechnic. Here’s a detailed account of my situation:
I am an international student who moved to Canada at the age of 17. Currently, I am completing my Grade 12 at Applewood Heights High School in Ontario. Prior to moving to Canada, I completed my IGCSE O Level and the International AS part of the A Level. Since arriving in Canada, I have successfully completed Grade 11 English and will finish Grade 12 English this semester.
I applied to Seneca Polytechnic for the Fall 2024 intake for three programs: CPP Computer Programming, CSN Computer Systems Technician, and CVL Civil Engineering Technician. However, I received an email stating that my application was refused because I did not meet the admission requirements. After reviewing the decision and contacting the Seneca Service Hub, I believe there was a misunderstanding regarding my English qualifications.
Here are the key points of my situation:

1. Completion of English Courses: I have completed Grade 11 English and am in the process of completing Grade 12 English at an Ontario high school, which is an English language-dominant environment.
2. Ontario Secondary School Literacy Test (OSSLT): I have passed the Ontario Secondary School Literacy Test, which further demonstrates my proficiency in English.
3. Admission Requirements: According to the Seneca Polytechnic website, completing Grade 11 and Grade 12 English in an English language-dominant country should exempt me from needing additional English tests such as IELTS or Duolingo.

Despite fulfilling these requirements, my application was still rejected. I suspect there might have been an oversight or misinterpretation of my submitted documents. This situation is particularly urgent because I need to secure a letter of acceptance before my high school semester ends in order to apply for a study permit as soon as possible.
Here’s what I’ve done so far:

• I have contacted the Seneca Service Hub, and they confirmed that my requirements are met. However, the admissions team might not have received or correctly interpreted all my documents.
• I have written to the Seneca International Admissions Team requesting a reconsideration of my application and explaining my qualifications and current situation.

I am very keen on attending Seneca Polytechnic and am looking for advice on the following:

1. Has anyone faced a similar situation with Seneca Polytechnic or other institutions? How did you resolve it?
2. What additional steps can I take to ensure my application is reconsidered promptly?
3. Are there any specific documents or pieces of information I should provide to strengthen my case?
4. Is there any other way to expedite the review process given my time constraints?

I greatly appreciate any advice or insights this community can offer. Thank you for taking the time to read my post and for any support you can provide.

The stress of the last six months has nearly killed me. Besides the general cratering of the outside world—political strife, climate change, inflated rents, corporate greed, and the baffling resurgence of crew socks—my internal life was falling apart, too. I'm at the point where I can't see a way out of the darkness, and that feeling has only grown in the last few days.
My struggles ramped up exponentially in the last two weeks. It started when my long-term girlfriend and I called it quits after five years. There was no definitive relationship-altering fight or infidelity. It was simply the boring banality of the "roommate-ification" of our lives together. We both felt the shift but never talked about it. Turns out communication is important.
Truthfully, we'd stayed together for so long because we couldn't afford to live apart. Our rent had nearly doubled the last time we re-upped our lease but even that was a bargain compared to what was out there currently. We were trapped by our need to have a roof over our heads.
My job had stagnated, and I couldn't find anything better. I was stuck. Like me, she'd been job hunting as well. Unlike me, she had a master's, and her prospects should've been higher. They weren't. For five months, she applied to hundreds of jobs and couldn't break through. If she got a rejection email, it was a win. Most of the time, the companies never responded.
Finally, she found a great opportunity at a Fortune 500 company. It was an involved process. She nailed the five interviews, and her "test project" was well received. She was offered the position, and it came with a massive pay increase—double her current salary. I was proud of her—she needed a win. We celebrated with pizza and beer that night.
Two days later, she dropped the bomb that she was breaking things off. The relationship ending wasn't a surprise. The timing was. The discussion was brief, and there was zero chance of reconciliation. She declined when I asked if she could stay until the lease ended. Mentally, it would've been too much for her. Two days after that, she moved out, taking half the rent with her. I was stuck in a lease I couldn't afford on my salary for the next six months.
My free time evaporated as I took on two extra gigs to help make ends meet. In addition to my office nine to five, I drove for a delivery app on the weekends and took a part-time night job stocking shelves at a local grocery store. When I wasn't hustling for housing, I slept or ate. I did nothing beyond that. Nothing brings me joy. There is no spark.
This drudgery has become my daily routine, and it's killing me.
To help cover some cost gaps, I've started selling off some of my stuff online. It was just me here, and I decided that the Spartan lifestyle would have to work for now. Anything I could fetch a decent amount for went up for sale. My apartment is so empty now every noise causes an echo.
Before my shift at the grocery store, I agreed to meet someone who wanted to take a look at my kitchen table. It was a lovely table – my ex had obsessed over it – but I didn't see a need at the moment. Now that I was a bachelor, my TV trays became my default kitchen tables anyway. I wasn't planning on any dinner parties in the future anyway.
A couple showed up later than they said they would. It was a bored-looking guy and a fastidious young woman. She made friendly small talk as she looked over the table. Her boyfriend (I think) stayed quiet and played bodyguard. I gave him a friendly nod at one point, and he just looked away. She said they'd take it without trying to talk me down. I took the small win.
She asked if I could help carry it down to their truck. I was running late, but feeling helpful, even for a fleeting few seconds, was worth it. Her silent boyfriend and I hauled the table through the hallway and even managed to avoid hitting the walls the entire way down.
I placed it in their truck, got my money, and turned to leave. The girl said thanks, and the boyfriend finally returned the nod. I gave a weird half-wave to them both and started to walk away when I heard the passenger window being rolled down.
"Hey man," the boyfriend said, his voice higher pitched than I thought it would. "What was up with your brother giving us the evil eye in the lobby when we got here?"
I turned around, "Huh? I don't have a brother."
"A cousin then?"
"My family lives about a thousand miles away. What happened in the lobby?"
"A dude that looked just like you was hiding in a dark hallway in the lobby and staring at my girl's ass."
"Jacob, really," she said.
"I'm sorry that happened, but I had nothing to do with it. We do have the occasional homeless guy meander in. Maybe you saw one of them," I said. "Did he say or do anything bad?"
"Jacob, I asked you to not say something," the girl said, burying her head in her hands.
Jacob's frosty attitude to me made sense now. "He said something about running up that ass. I dunno, he was mumbling. I told him I'd beat his ass if he didn't stop staring. Seemed to shut him up."
"Oh. Well, congrats," I said. "I'll tell the manager. Thanks for letting me know."
"You should do a better job keeping jokers like that out of the building."
"Jacob, he's not a security guard."
"He should still be a man and protect his home."
"Have a good night," I said, ending the conversation and heading back up to my apartment. I had about five minutes to change and head out before I'd be late. Last thing my ego needed was to be fired from my backup job.
Thankfully, I was able to slip into work and not get spotted by my boss. That was the last of the good news, though. We had a massive weekly order come in, which meant I'd be there late, plus someone had called out. Worse, our hand truck had a flat tire, and I spent the next few hours torturing my muscles, schlepping heavy boxes around the store. I soldiered on, counting down the minutes until I left and fantasizing about going to bed for the night.
If wishing for sleep wasn't a sad statement to my mental well-being, nothing was.
I came home after my shift at the grocery store and plopped down on the couch. I had contemplated selling it, but it was an older Ikea number, and I didn't think the value would replace my desire to sit. I could feel my body sink into the cushions, and the day's tension seep out. I was beat and tired to the point that turning on the TV was a chore.
I picked up my phone and thought I'd doomscroll until sleep overtook me. I didn't expect it to be a long scroll, as even the methadone that is my phone has failed me lately. As I lowered myself from a slumped position to a supine one, I heard footsteps outside my apartment door. This was not unusual, but the noise I heard sounded like kid footsteps. That was unusual, as nobody on our floor had kids, and it was almost midnight.
Despite my body screaming at me to not move, my brain suggested I check it out. I rolled myself off the couch and eventually stood up. I listened again and heard the kid running down the hallway. I walked over to my door and looked out the peephole. I didn't see anyone.
"Maybe I'm dreaming," I said to myself. "Maybe I'm not staring out a peephole, expecting to see a kid running down the hall at midnight, but instead, I'm cuddled up in my bed, snoozing." I pinched my arm and felt the pain. I was definitely in the waking world.
I turned to head back to the couch when I heard the running again, this time louder. I opened my door and peeked out into the hallway. Nobody was there. The door from the apartment across me opened up, too. Gloria, a young at heart grandma who was friendly/constantly buzzed in a wine mom kind of way, gave me a once over.
"You heard that, too?" she asked.
"Kids?"
"No rugrats around. I assumed it was some drunk assholes stumbling home from the bar."
I laughed. Gloria was, as always, blunt. "I didn't see any assholes," I said.
"Then you're not watching the right kind of internet videos," she said with a wink and a hoarse cackle.
I blushed. How do you respond to that? I just kind of nodded in agreement and shrugged.
"Gotta get your jollies while you can," she said before adding, "You need some rest, dear. You look like hammered shit." She shut her door and went back inside.
She was right. I felt like hammered shit. Since I wasn't going to solve the case of the mysterious runner and was sure it wasn't some lost kid, I decided to call it a night. I went back inside, shut down the apartment, and crawled into bed.
I thought about watching one of the "right kind of internet videos" but fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
***
"Your problem is you think the world owes you something."
John, my elderly coworker at the grocery store, was standing by while I unloaded a pallet of cereal. I liked John, and when I first started, we instantly clicked. He's quick with a joke and fun to talk to. He's also about thirty years older than me and speaks with the Boomer combination of accumulated wisdom, backhanded compliments, and fringe conspiracy nonsense. Still, regardless of how couched the kindness is in gobbledygook, he's usually coming from a good place.
"What?" I said, putting a box of Captain Crunch on the shelf.
"You're complaining about your situation, right? Saying it ain't fair. The world took a paddle to your hind quarters? Hey brother, that's the way the cookie crumbles. Gotta just pick yourself up and start over. You're smart enough – figured this job out right quick – you can do it."
The job was wheeling pallets around the store and stocking shelves. It wasn't much to figure out, but I understood his meaning. The other stuff wasn't necessary, though. "I'm just in a funk. I don't see a way forward."
"Hey, so you've bottomed out. No shame in that. Happens to us all. Silver lining, you can only go up," he said before adding, "Unless some other bad shit happens to you like your car dies or your apartment building burns down. But after that, it's only up."
"The apartment building burning down would be a blessing," I said, hoisting another little Captain on the shelf. "The rent is killing me."
"Have you tried negotiating a lower rent? They used to do that when I was your age."
"I think they'd evict me if I even asked."
"Hell, then you'd have at least thirty days, maybe forty, before they'd kick you out. Plenty of time to turn things around."
"Uh-huh," I said, "Any chance you could give me a hand here?"
"My back is screaming like a pretty young thing after prom," he said, holding his back for emphasis.
I didn't push. "Hey, I meant to tell you about some weird shit that happened the other night."
"Lay it on me. I love the strange."
"So, after my shift the other day, I got home around midnight and was flopped on the couch. I heard someone running down the hallway outside my apartment. I wasn't the only one. A few other neighbors heard it, too. When we checked, though, nobody was there."
"That ain't strange," John said, waving his hand, "that's a man who's plowing another man's wife running for his life."
I laughed. "That's not the weird part. So, for the next two nights, it's the same thing. Around midnight, someone runs down the hallway. Only this time, they're trying the door handles as they pass. So, I asked the front desk to check the security cameras, and they do."
"They see a man running away holding his clothes?"
"There wasn't anyone running down the hall," I said, "But the weird thing was, you could see the door handles turning on the video."
"Damn, that's a good one," John said, "You sure it wasn't just a camera glitch. These new ones from overseas aren't as reliable as they want you to think. Chinese probably using them to spy on you, too."
He continued as my brain tried to reconcile John's two opposing comments. "Weird shit happens at night, man. Before working here, I only worked the day shift. Even when they offered me more money to work nights, I turned it down. Even when they promised me a promotion, I turned them down."
In a previous life, John had worked as a paramedic. He came by it after serving in a medical unit in the army. He'd told me he loved the rush of the job, but after a while, the death and hurt in people's eyes got to be too much to handle. But he worked there for almost twenty years. So, the man had a tolerance for shenanigans and odd occurrences.
"Why'd you agree to work nights here?"
"Shit, we're home before the witching hour. This is like late afternoons, at best. But if it was overnights, hell no. Captain Crunch can anchor his own ship to the shelves. I'd take my ass to 7-11 for a day shift before agreeing to work an overnight."
"Something happen to you during the army?”
“I got the clap,” he offered.
I sighed. “What turned you off nights?"
"Oh. I heard enough stories from coworkers to know I didn't want to experience any of that hoo-doo shit," he said, "trying to save someone's life is hard enough without adding in demon kids and ghosts."
"Did your coworkers see demon kids?" I asked, moving on from the good Captain to the Trix rabbit.
He nodded, "They saw too much. I find it odd, even with all the surveillance we have now and all the science we know about these days, that the night still scares us. You ever know someone who worked a night shift?"
I had. My ex. During college, she worked the overnight desk at a hotel for a while. She quit because the job gave her bad vibes. I told John as much.
He pointed and laughed, "See! Don't you find it odd that every person who works at night always has a story of something eerie happening to them? Every person, buster. That's what they call an irrefutable fact."
"Maybe the ghost running down the hallway is an old employee still doing his rounds."
"In that case, keep that door double locked. I'd even wedge a towel under the door just in case."
"Maybe they're friendly? Casper-like in that way."
"You ever heard someone tell you about a friendly ghost outside the funny papers?"
"I'm sure it happens," I said, "The scary ghosts are more popular though."
“We think we know everything there is to know but we are just babes in the woods when it comes to night things.” John shook his head. "Imma tell you one or three things that happened to a guy I worked with back when I first got hired on to chase after corpses in the ambo. Guy's name was Gil. Quiet man, kept to himself. Didn't rock the boat or demand a bigger paddle. Just rowed with us. Good cat to learn under," John said, finally handing me a cereal box.
I took it, and he kept going, "Now, Gil, ya see, he had a little wifey that would pester him about working days. She was a cop and worked evenings at that time, so they never saw each other. When married people can't align their genitals every now and then, it spells doom."
"A little too much information but sure," I said, shelving another box of Trix.
"Probably part of what happened with you and yours," he said. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it.
John kept on, "Gil finally got approved to move to nights. Little pay boost and a happy, 'fulfilled' wife should've made that man happy. But it didn't. I saw him a few months later, and he had changed. He might've been quiet when he was working with me, but he'd talk to you if you engaged. When I saw him that time, though, oh boy. He looked sick."
"Wasn't a fan of working nights?"
"Wasn't a fan of living anymore is the feeling I got," John said, "After some prodding, he got to talking with me some. Told me he missed days because the nights were messing with him. I thought it had to do with the schedule change, but that wasn't the case. He said he saw things in the dark he couldn't explain. Things that would turn James Brown into James White, ya dig?"
"I...dig," I said.
"Told me they got a call to an abandoned apartment building one night, around three in the morning. Wasn't unusual. Old buildings in the city are where hop-heads congregate and share drugs. Sometimes, the drugs are too much. Sometimes, they find a person passed out or, worse, dead. When you work in the ambo, you aren't scared of death like a civilian. You've been around it. Probably seen a few folks take their last breaths. It doesn't bother you the way Mother Nature intended it should."
He handed me another box, continuing his assist streak, and kept going, "Ambo pulled up, Gil stepped out and looked for someone to talk to. Nobody there, though. Not uncommon. Some people want to help but not be involved. There's not a soul around. He calls out, but nothing comes back. Tells me he turns to get back in the ambulance when he hears a scream from inside the run-down building. They're calling for help. He's gotta go in the abandoned building in the dark."
"No thanks," I said.
"But it don't bother a medic like that. Gil's done a million of these calls. No big deal. He runs into that building but doesn't come back out until twenty minutes later. Just goes missing. After five, the crew heads in to back him up but can't find him. Gil tells me his crew called the cops. It was like he had vanished."
"What happened?"
"I asked him and he got real quiet. Said he fell into some place that looked like here but wasn't here. Said he felt their eyes on him. Judging him. Told me they followed him home and wouldn't leave him be."
"Who?"
John shrugged, "He didn't say. Shut down after that and left. Just walked past me like I was shit on the sidewalk. He quit about a week later. Heard he had a stroke a year later and was a tombstone owner three months after that. Good guy, though."
"Your aversion to overnights makes a little more sense."
"Never in a million years. You don't want something like that coming after you."
"In my case, could it get much worse?" I said with a half-smile.
"Man, I wouldn't even joke about that," he said, making the sign of the cross, "You don't want that shit attachin' itself to you. With your luck, you'd bring him in here, and it'd hop over to me. I can't have a ghost crimping my style."
After a bit, he got called away to sign off on a delivery. I finished out my shift and headed out to the parking lot. When I exited the building and spotted my car, I froze. My doors were all open, and the interior lights were on. Someone had broken in.
I glanced around the lot to see if the thief was still around, but there wasn't another person near me. I walked over to the car and peered inside. My glovebox had been ripped open, and my registration was pulled out, but nothing else was missing.
I found little hand prints in the dirt all along the body and the windows. I held mine up for comparison, and they were about half the size. It must've been some tweens or teens who did this. Maybe they were going to steal some things and got cold feet. I contemplated calling the cops, but since nothing had happened and they wouldn't do anything anyway, there was no reason to delay sleep any longer than I had to. I closed all the doors and climbed inside.
I started the car and heard something rattling in the AC vents. I pulled out my phone and shined the light at the vent. There was a small piece of paper inside. I looked around my car for some tool to pull it out and only found an ink pen and a bent-up paperclip. After McGuyvering the vent for a bit, the paper finally came out.
I held it up and unfolded it. There was a handwritten note. It simply read, "I know you're here. I know you're hiding him. I will find you both, and then it'll be your turn to run the race. We all have to run at some point."
I had no idea what that meant, but my body still provided goosebumps. Who was trying to find me? Who was the second person? Why leave a note in my AC vent? What the hell did run the race mean? I hadn't run a race since elementary school and wasn't planning to do so any time soon. Did they mean the rat race? Because I was basically marathoning that motherfucker already.
"Jesus Christ," I said, shaking my head. "What else, universe?"
As if it were a well-practiced comedy routine, the universe responded. My back passenger door swung open, and I heard footsteps running away from my car. I sprung up and scrambled to get out. There wasn't anyone else in the lot that I could see, but very clearly, someone had been hiding in my backseat.
My nerves were shot already, and this was not something I wanted to deal with at the moment. My brain decided that to avoid a breakdown, I needed to shift into automatic mode and just get back to the safety of my apartment. I'd be more prepared to deal with this – whatever it was – in the morning.
Either that or I'd jump in front of a bus. Both sounded satisfying, albeit in different ways.
***
"There he is," Gloria said as soon as I turned down the hallway. I looked up and noticed a small cabal of my neighbors standing in a semi-circle, waiting for me. They all look displeased.
"Hey guys," I said, confused. "I miss an invite for a block party?"
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"About?"
"Don't play dumb," another neighbor said, jabbing their finger in my direction.
"I'm not playing," I said, realizing the self-burn only after the words escaped my lips.
Gloria showed me the screen on her phone. It was a static shot of her door from across the hall. She pressed play, and nothing happened for a beat until something darted across the screen. That was the whole thing. I looked up at her, my face twisted up in confusion.
"Well," she said, "What do you have to say?"
"What was that?" I asked.
"That was you!" the pointing neighbor said, pointing harder than I thought possible.
"What?" I said, laughing. "Are you all serious?" They didn't laugh, and I realized they weren't joking. "How can you even tell it's me? It's a blur. Never mind the fact I've been at work for the last five hours. Plus, this blur is half my size. I get we're all weirded out about the Phantom Runner, but it's not me. I swear to God. I don't even have the energy to think about running, let alone the physical desire to."
"Then explain this," Gloria said, slightly swaying from the half bottle of Pinot Noir coursing through her blood. She rewound the video and froze it on a specific frame. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I was looking at...me. Or, rather, something pretending to be me.
"What the fuck?" I said, my jaw dropping.
"Still think we're lying?" the pointer said smugly.
"No, but, guys, this isn't me. I... I've been at work. Wanna see my schedule?"
I reached into my phone and pulled it out. There was an email with my work schedule that confirmed what I was saying. They relaxed, and, for the first time, anger gave way to fear. Their very plausible explanation was suddenly invalid. It left two implausible answers floating in the ether: either I had a pint-sized doppelganger terrorizing the hallways of my apartment, or a ghost was haunting the building.
"I'm...gonna go inside," the pointer said, walking back to their home. Everyone else drifted away until it was just Gloria and I standing alone in the hallway.
She looked at me and sighed, "I feel like an asshole," she said. "Sorry I accused you of causing the racket."
"If I had seen the video, I would've thought the same thing," I said. "We're good."
"What do you think it is?" she asked.
I shrugged and let out an exhausted sigh. "Honestly, Gloria, I've had a screwed-up night already, and this is the cherry on top of the shit sundae; forgive my language. I don't have the mental bandwidth to even comprehend what's on the video at the moment."
"Think it's after you?" she asked, though I suspected the wine had forced her to put that idea out into the universe. As I had already seen, the universe seemed to take requests on my behalf.
"Maybe it's after you?" I said, coming off a little meaner than I intended, but I didn't care. I left her there to contemplate that scenario and went into my apartment.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I felt on edge. Just because I didn't have the mental bandwidth to discuss the doppelganger didn't mean it wasn't dominating my thoughts. I saw the frame of the video. The damn ghost looked exactly like me. What could that possibly mean? I know I had wished for death, but I was very still alive. I had rent due to prove that.
Did I happen to live in a place haunted by a ghost that looked strikingly like me? Was it some kid with a passing resemblance just causing chaos? Was it something else I couldn't even comprehend – an alien? A clone? A secret government project?
There was a thumping coming from the hallway. The mini Usain Bolt was at it again. I knew the neighbors would ignore it. Since they had all thought it was me, which was proven to be untrue, they would avoid the running man from now on. While curious and confused by the creature, they'd never put themselves in harm's way to discover what it was. They were not a brave lot.
Neither was I, but maybe my life crumbling around me had forced my hand. I walked over to my door and swung it open. I hit record on my phone, stuck it out like a periscope, and glanced around the hallway. Nobody was there. No neighbors were looking. No person was running.
"You gotta stop, man. I need to go to sleep," I said to the empty space. No response, not that I was expecting one.
I turned to walk back in, and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. A face at the end of the hallway peeked around the corner. For a quick second, we locked eyes, and it was like I was looking into a mirror. This thing was me. But...how?
I tried to get it on video, but it ducked back into the shadows. I took that as a cue to shut and lock my door. My heart was racing, and I didn't want to think about this anymore, but I couldn't help it. There was a me in the hallway who enjoyed pestering my neighbors. Worse, they liked to run for some ungodly reason.
I put my phone on the counter, the video still rolling, when there was a knock at my door. It echoed in my near-empty apartment. I tried to ignore it and convince myself it was something else, but it wasn't. The ghost was knocking on my door. Even with my brain paralyzed, I couldn't help but think that it was awfully polite to knock.
Another knock, this one more forceful. I wondered if the neighbors thought I was making this up?
"I know you're in there," a voice said. It sounded just like me. "This is about the race. We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I froze. My legs went wobbly like a boxer on the brink of a blackout, but I stayed tall. I opened my mouth to speak and found the words dying in my throat. I grabbed a nearby bottle of water and took a chug.
"We all have to run the race."
"What race?" I choked out, "What are you talking about?"
"Open up. They're in there already, and I need to get them."
I glanced all around my empty apartment. I didn't see anyone else in here. I didn't hear anything. Whatever this thing was, it was lying. I grabbed my phone and held it in my hand. I wanted to document this to prove that I wasn't crazy.
“Did you leave the note?”
“I know they’re in there with you,” it repeated.
"There's no one in here," I said.
"They're hiding. I think I know where. I can hear them."
"You've gotta get out of here," I said. "There's nothing here, and you're scaring people."
"I'm scared, and you should be! You have to run the race, man! Open up, and I can show you."
The handle started to shake. I peered through the keyhole and only saw the top of the other me's head. They began to shoulder the door, and it crunched against my nose. I screamed out in pain and stumbled back. I tripped over my feet and landed hard on my ass.
The thing slammed into the door two more times, shaking the walls. The strength seemed unnatural. On the third hit, the door burst open. I finally got a view of the thing. It was me. Scaled down by half, but it was me. We both seemed shocked.
"You're so much taller up close," the other me said.
"Who the fuck are you?"
I felt a buzzing in my feet that seemed to climb up my body until it reached my brain. There was an intense pain that rippled through the folds of my mind. Through the pain, I could hear a disembodied voice whisper, "We all must run the race. We all have to run. Chase it. Chase yourself." It felt like my skull was going to split in two. I clutched the sides of my head and let out a primal scream that hurt my own ears.
Then it was gone. But I could still feel the echoes in my mind. "We all have to run the race. We all have to run." The thought would waver between making no sense and making complete sense. One second, I was questioning what was happening to my mind, and the next, all I felt was the desire to continue the race.
"There he is!" the other me yelled, pointing at the hallway.
I glanced over and saw another version of me standing in the hallway. It was half the size of the other me that had broken into my place. When tiny me locked eyes with my intruder, he ran for the open hallway closet.
The other me followed, screaming that it would catch the little bastard if it was the last thing he'd do. I pushed myself up to my feet and felt queasy. I watched as the other me ran head-first into the closet without slowing. I expected to hear a loud thump as it hit the back wall but none came.
"We all have to run the race," the voice in my head said, soothing my nerves. "It's your time to run the race."
I moved down the hallway, each footfall echoing loudly in the empty apartment, each step bringing me closer to the closet door. Something was drawing me there. The voice's words echoed in my mind as well: "We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I grabbed the door and stopped. Something was compelling me to move forward. To go into the closet. To chase myself. To run the race.
"No," I whispered and yanked my hand from the door. I pulled out my still recording phone, and stared into the camera. My face was devoid of color, and you could see the fear etched into me. "I'm freaking out because...because…"
I stopped. I felt an invisible hand grab my body and tug. "Because...because if I don't run the race, something bad will happen. I have to chase it. I...I have to."
My phone dropped from my hand, and I didn’t care. The force pulling me forward stopped but my body kept going. I could feel the last strands of my rational mind splintering. My thoughts became focused on one thing: I had to catch myself, find out what was happening, and run the race. If I ran, maybe I'd win.
I needed a win.
I walked into the back of the closet and felt a door handle sticking out of the wall. I'd been in that closet a million times before and never had seen this. But a sense of calm washed over me. This….this was supposed to be here. This was perfectly fine.
I turned the handle and pulled open the invisible door. In front of me was a hallway that looked strikingly like the one outside my apartment. At the end of the hallway, I saw Gloria step out of their home to leave for the night. She was huge. Twice my size, easy.
Another door opened, and I saw...me—a giant version of me. The Hulk version of me was getting ready to go to the grocery store for work. I watched as the giant Gloria and giant me joked and laughed. I was stunned.
I stared, and a new thought came to me. I have to find the smaller me and talk to it. I needed to find out if there's a way out of this...this….
"It's your turn to run," the voice said.
Calm embraced me. "It's my turn to run," I repeated. As the giant me took off and the giant Gloria re-entered her apartment, the hallway beckoned.
"We all have to run the race," I said softly, "It's my turn now."
I started running.

29th January 1967;

Port Arthur, SCS;

{Following our meeting last December…}
Through the battered streets, swept by the wailing winds of the storms of deep January, there was still the wail of protesters, fighting ever more closely, delivering punches in each other’s doorways. Port Arthur’s namesake, the port on the Lake called Superior, was the gateway through which one accessed the wider world from the SCS, and that fact was not lost upon particularly the MLS. It was no wonder they took the city to be so important - it was the most foreign city of the lot, so they had to override the population’s prior nationalities in order to advance their cause.
What nationality did not live within the city? The borders of the SCS had been closed off in 1952, but the prior torrent had already brought in every culture by then. There were the Scots, the Welsh, the Irish, the English, the French, the Norwegians, the Danish, the Finnish, the New Englanders, the Quebecois, the Maritimers, the many others, the world inside a city. For all that Sault was Canadian and that Fort William was Serene, Port Arthur was the city that held every other flavour of the (Northern Atlantic) world. As Gloria walked along the tarmac between the rows of housing, cheaply-erected to house the many, she did not feel a stranger one bit.
She had not a similar feeling since she had left the town of Stoke to the rising waters.
Even so, the few that were the protesters did their best to attract her, to whistle and to call out at her, because she was a woman and alone on the streets, with Mark typing frantically to his friend across the lake, as he tried to convey what he knew onwards towards the armed forces. That friend had his own mates, in higher places, and they had met a while ago. By now, he sulked by the St Mary’s, carrying his heavy loads, and Sault was a good place to sulk. All Mark had to confirm was that he was still in Sault, and not attracted by the offers of guaranteed accommodation and tax rebates if he decided to live and farm in the countryside. He just needed to know.
In the meantime, Gloria needed to seek out Lee, and to get through the city, walking was what was needed, and that was Mark’s idea which Gloria agreed with.
Thus, she trudged through the storms and the gales onwards into the docklands, to find her man. Well, finding the docklands was easy enough, since the high chain-fence was obvious enough with its notices in government typeface. Walking around far enough to the south allowed Gloria to find her entrance, and to find a helpful woman, one who worked at the front. She held all the keys, and all of the telephone wires, and, upon a quick one-button check of the video-monitoring system to Lee’s desk that showed him reading a book, the all-clear was given. “William is free to talk, I assume this will be on personal matters? I’ll give permission, it’s too stormy to do much more than read books anyway, he won’t get much. I’ll get someone to escort you.”
“Oh Lee, thank you ever so much. Mark and I are in Longuelac, but we’re staying in Port Arthur for the time being whilst he finds more work.”
“Ah cheers. Interesting that you’re here for work, didn’t know about the MLS and MS protests here, yep? Tis horrendous, but ah well, I live close enough to docks that they don’t hit me, all’s fine round these parts. Longuelac is a place for sure, that also work?” asked Lee rhetorically, drawing in all the information he required.
“Yes, all just work and money. I just want to live near our work rather than him use our money on fuel on his car just to get him to work. He thinks we only get higher-paying jobs just because of that car. I can’t see why a motorcycle wouldn’t work either, but maybe it’s storms like today that do it,” stated Gloria towards Lee, whom she knew wanted to draw in more of that lovely information.
“So… so… you like the Monde Suffit then? They have their 13-minute-city idea or whatever, it’s about reducing distance to workplaces, by putting work right near the homes. It’s stuff like that which the MS like, but then you’re with Mark, yep?” suggested Lee, putting the pieces together.
“Mark wants to set up a rival for the MS, but upon similar principles, because Gatley and Hyhurst are being too idealistic and that won’t get stuff right. But his idea is… uhm…” tailed off Gloria.
“Still taking shape, yep? Well, look, I have a bit about Matias, so say that to Mark when he opens… this letter. It’ll have a bit more, and you can do more with it. I’m with Mark, because he met myself on the Samaria. He’ll do it, I’m sure.”
“You think, Lee?”
“I do think Gloria, thank you very much. He knows too much. I bet you every organisation wants him. What’s more they want him gone. Now, that’s all I have. Brave the weather, it’ll be better in a few hours once the morning’s over.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and good luck. It’s not like Mark’d need it, but you will, just in dodging the protesters.”
{Agricultural Subsidies To Low From None}

Hi! I feel like a lot of the discourse about people not liking this season is in part due to people not really understanding what friends to lovers is, specifically the trope as it applies to Colin and Penelope, so I thought I might share my thoughts :)
Now I haven’t read the books - this is all based on what I gleaned from the show on multiple rewatches and as someone who has been the Penelope in a friendship for a longggg long time. Hopefully this makes sense.
Romance tropes can often boiled down to their immediate, basic truths. The popular enemies to lovers, for example: Enemy 1 + Enemy 2 + sexual tension = Lover 1 and Lover 2. Not to say enemies to lovers can’t be complex, but generally the starting point for enemies is an essential lack of trust between the parties and moments of connection (via fights) fueled by intense feelings of hatred/rage/whatever which can, in turn, translate to sexual tension. Due to the lack of trust, when they do get together it’s an explosion of that intense energy, highlighted even more-so by the knowledge that they don’t truly trust each other but they need each other which makes the heart race all the more and the passion all that more explosive.
Let’s look at Kate and Anthony as this trope. When they meet there is an immediate spark, fueled by a race in which they’re in competition. Once she hears him at the ball she decides she will do everything in her power to stop him from marrying her sister, and since he is determined to marry Edwina every interaction they have from that point on, until they have their happily ever after in the last episode, can be considered a fight. Moments like the bane of my existence and you vex me are such high intensity because it’s two people fueled by anger and sexual/romantic tension. They need each other like air but will do everything to fight it because of the anger, making the onscreen affections super intense for the viewer (especially as viewers who have just been introduced to Kate and are getting to know her through the lens of Anthony).
Now friends to lovers is, if I may say, quite a bit more complicated. A basic boiled down is Friend 1 + Friend 2 + romance/sexual tension = Lovers. But all friendships are different - if you’re new friends your pipeline to lovers is likely entirely different than old friends to lovers. If one party is in love with the other that changes the dynamic entirely; are they long distance or close? Were they childhood friends? Are they both likeable and popular or is one more nerdy and quiet or both? Do they know each other’s families? Are they best friends or just friends? All of these and more create new dynamics and emotions that can lead to love in different ways. My point is that friends to lovers is not as easy to pin down as something like enemies to lovers. So that’s why a couple like Polin may seem like they don’t have as much chemistry on screen - because their intensity shines in a different way than what we’re used to in Bridgerton.
Going into season three we know that Penelope has been in love with Colin for a long time, but during that time the two also formed a close friendship. When Colin proposed to Marina, yes Penelope whistledowned about the pregnancy to stop him from marrying her for love reasons, but also because he is her friend and she didn’t want to see him trapped in a loveless marriage. We also know that when Colin traveled between seasons one and two Penelope most often responded to his letters. Even during a scene in season two Pen specifically asks to hear more about his travels, even though everyone else in Colin’s life had asked him to stop talking about it. Pen’s crush and friendship don’t cancel each other out, they exist side by side as two parts of Penelope that often overlap but are most importantly separate entities. And she knows that.
Colin does not. In season three when Colin is talking about when they first met, Penelope looks away with anxiety when Colin suggests he knows why Penelope was so forward in making fun of him for falling off his horse and starting their friendship. She knows it’s because she had a crush on him. He states that it was because they were kids. This means it’s canon that Penelope had a crush on him since the moment they met. As a result, Colin has never experienced a friendship with Pen that doesn’t also have an underlying crush. He doesn’t know that Pen doesn’t respond to everyone’s letters all the time, or hangs onto their every word, or goes out of her way to talk to them. How Pen acts around him is how he assumes she acts around everyone - that’s why he doesn’t pick up on her crush.
It’s also why, I argue, he doesn’t realize that he loves her until the kiss in season three. He truly and genuinely takes her affections, her friendship, for granted because he doesn’t understand that someone so loyal and loving like that is rare. He doesn’t appear to have much else in the way of friends; outside of his family we don’t really see him interact with other men, and in season three the “friends” he does spend time with make comments to suggest they only started hanging out with him after his personality change to be more like his brothers - a rake who doesn’t care much for real affections. It’s why he said he would never court Penelope Featherington, or why he said “You are Pen, you do not count” when asked why he was still talking to her if he swore off women. He was super young when his dad died, so the only male role models he has for what love means are Anthony and Benedict. So, as he understands it, a man courting a woman is about sleeping around until the man finds a suitable match that pleases the family regardless of the man’s happiness. Even though he saw that Anthony fell in love by the time Colin said he would never court Pen, he didn’t see Anthony’s journey to understanding that love is not something to run from but something to cherish like we, the viewers, did. Anthony’s arc was just background noise for Colin, so it wasn’t like that would change his outlook on what Anthony’s actions in season one and beginning of season two loudly called out: choosing love over meaningless sex is idiotic and weak. It is explained in a letter that the reason Colin decided to try being like his brothers is BECAUSE Penelope stopped responding to him during his travels between seasons two and three. He decided to start guarding his heart, throwing on the rakish armor we see him dawn in the first half of season three, because he didn’t have that relationship that made him feel stable and loved anymore.
This is why Colin is genuinely distressed when Penelope walks away from him at the garden party in the first episode of season three, and why he went after her to explain that he missed her. He loves his relationship with her, not understanding that what he feels is actually love for her because he has never been aware that true love feels the way it does when he is with Pen. He sees Penelope as his best friendship, rather than the love of his life, because he literally can’t see it any other way based on how everything in his life played out to that point.
———
Okay this is way longer than I intended this to be already, but to finally make it to my main point! The Friends to Lovers trope as it plays out in Season Three Part One: Polin Do Be Polining.
What does all this mean for how Polin’s intensity shines as a couple? Due to the way their friendship has played out things like Colin taking Pen to the dance floor (not small social feat btw) in season one when Cressida bullies her, seeking each other out at social events, Pen asking about his travels - all of these are part of their relationship! It’s all part of the slow burn; it’s just less slap-you-in-the-face noticeable, to a viewer of a show about specified romance, as Kate and Anthony and even Simon and Daphne because acting like friends is an implicit part of Polin’s love story. Because they are best friends as well as eventually lovers!!
This is in full display in Season three, though put more on blast since it’s their season to get together. Colin saying he’ll teach Penelope how to get a husband isn’t a pity thing, it’s a real moment of genuine care that Colin is extending towards her.
—— “Pen wants to get a husband to be happy? Great! I’ll help to make her happy because her happiness means everything to me. Because I am her friend. Duh :)” - top ten photos taken ten seconds before disaster. ——
And it works! They start spending all this time together, and Pen has always looked gorgeous but is finally wearing clothes that she feels gorgeous in and you can see it in the way she acts, and suddenly Colin’s heart starts doing all these weird jumps around her like when she’s in the drawing room and when she wraps his hand because he has always loved her, so he doesn’t understand what these feelings that are coming up during these scenes are because they are not new feelings, just more intense ones of what he believes is pure friendship.
Penelope, on the other hand, has had her brain decide to give up on Colin Bridgerton (even though her heart hasn’t). As someone who’s been there, being in unrequited love with your friend is brutal but you can never really let go. No matter how many people they date, or the hours you spend together talking about their new crush, or the life moments share together where they do everything but love you there is always that small spark of hope in your chest that you can’t let go of lest they ever possibly realize they love you back. That chance is too precious to give up - that’s why Penelope can’t give Debling a real answer when he asks her if she would like to be with Colin in episode four. Logically she knows she should give it up but her heart just can’t. She is a hopeless romantic and her life has been spinning around Colin Bridgerton since she was 16 like the earth around the Sun. There is no other way to live, for her, if she isn’t in love with Colin. And that’s what breaks her heart the most.
It’s also why, I believe, she asks him to kiss her in that garden. She had just written about herself in Whistledown that she did the upmost embarrassing act of taking Colin’s assistance on the marriage market, and her mother dressed her down about being a spinster for the rest of her life. All of Pen’s plans, of marrying and getting out, are utterly gone for her in that moment when she goes out to the garden. She doesn’t have her prospects. She doesn’t have Eloise. She doesn’t have safety in her own home. The only thing she has left is Colin. That’s why she asks him to kiss her, because he might grant her this one kindness of making her feel alive for just this one moment before the rest of her life ends. That moment is the culmination of all of her feelings up to that point in the show. She’s given up on Colin - she wouldn’t have asked him to kiss her had she any hope left. This was her last ditch attempt to just be a girl and be kissed regardless of what he actually meant to her. It wasn’t out of desperation, it was staring down the barrel of the gun with societies’s finger on the trigger.
When she asks him Colin is taken aback. Not because he doesn’t want to kiss her but because he has never considered it before. Kissing was reserved for women you are looking to sleep with at a bar, for prostitutes in alleyways, not for his caring Pen. I’ve seen some upset over not including more of Colin’s writing in the show, as he becomes quite the writer in the books apparently, and the writing we do see is just about sex but given the way they paced the show they provided the most important piece of context for Colin’s understanding of intimacy in the writing they did use. He wonders how one can feel, despite sleeping with every kind of woman across Europe, such intimacy in physical closeness and yet such distance emotionally. It’s some level of satisfying for him to sleep around, but it doesn’t fulfill him in the way it seemed to fulfill his brothers. He cannot equate the idea of kissing to Penelope because he feels such emotional closeness to her. But when she brings it up, suddenly everything clicks into place for him. All the emotions he feels towards her, what he thought was just friendship, is so much more. Yes she is his friend, but by god he wants to kiss his friend; not out of the need to search for something but of the overwhelming feeling of going home.
Their kiss is sweet, and soft. Unlike Daphne and Anthony’s first kisses with their respective partners it isn’t this immense clashing of bodies and teeth. It’s two friends who love each other finally meeting each other as sparks fly.
———
Colin is left speechless, and confused. The kiss was amazing to him because he finally unlocked that part of him that made him realize he was in love with Penelope. The kiss was amazing to Penelope because she has been in love with him for so long, but it was also tinged with her own doubts and feelings of hopelessness. That’s why she runs away, and thanks him, because this was her last stand and he was just her friend helping her out as she believes.
But as always, a night of sleep helps clarify things. The next time Pen goes into society she is awkward but still well intentioned about getting a husband because that kiss was a long day’s worth of self pity followed by, in her terms, a moment of weakness. But it clarified things for her too. Now she can’t die without ever having been kissed, so that ultimatum she set up in her own mind was gone and everything seems much more manageable from that point on. Colin, as we know, is a wreck who is absolutely bamboozled at these feelings and we love to watch him flounder!!!
———
Now the tables have been turned. To those of who are think Penelope should have chosen Debling, this part is for you. This is when Debling really starts to court Penelope as she goes after him. She literally fights Cressida for him, because he seems like the most amenable husband for her to be able to continue Whistledown and be provided security. She isn’t looking for love in Debling because she already has love in Colin (love she believes will always remain unrequited, but that kiss can be a memory she cherishes for the rest of her life and that be that); she basically did what Anthony did at the beginning of season two. Find a suitable match that makes the most sense for her and leave searching for a love match out of it. She likes Debling, for sure, and he’s a rly nice guy!! He cares about her in a way that a suitor might, and I’m certain had they gotten married he wouldn’t have been mean to her or anything. But she would’ve been lonely. As remembered she is a romantic, someone who craves the love she reads about in her romance books. She’s spent most of her conscious life in love - marrying Debling would stop that in its tracks. In his own words, Debling tells Pen that he could try to maybe love her but that it was far too unlikely to find any room in his heart her for over his passions (aroace Debling stand rise). He specifically mentions that he is choosing her to marry because she has her own passions, separate from his, that can keep her company while he is gone both physically and emotionally from her. She doesn’t realize this until it’s too late, when her focus on the chase is over, and Debling asks her mother for her hand. It’s only then that she thinks that maybe she could hold out for love, and that power is strong enough to make her actively not want to ensure her security through Debling.
Love is treacherous, and yet we yearn for it like a sailor who cannot help but smile at the beauty of the raging sea at it comes crashing down upon him. Penelope would rather a thousand lifetimes of the chance to be in love with Colin over one lifetime married to Debling in safety.
That is why Debling breaks it off with her. Because she loves Colin, Debling knows she would choose Colin over him, and he sees Colin’s interest in her even if she does not. Like girl…. Colin literally found out she was going to get engaged, ran to the ball, interrupted the dance wherein Debling was going to ask Pen to marry him, ran after her carriage just to know if she was engaged because he couldn’t fathom letting her get away in a loveless marriage, and when finding out she was not engaged telling her he loved her even if she did not love him back because he simply had to express to her how much he loved her as he owed her that as his friend. Colin got in his knees in that carriage because he was genuinely splaying out his heart to her for her to dissect as she chose. He put himself at her mercy because that is where he believes his place to be - hers.
———
The carriage scene is, of course, the moment of highest intensity from the viewer standpoint of what we think love should appear to be. Other scenes could be Colin’s dream, and the moment in the sweets tent, etc. But those moments aren’t all of Polin’s love story. They may be the most visceral to witness, but they are just as important as the two of them laughing together in the corner of a ballroom. Their romantic trope is defined as Friends to Lovers, but that isn’t quite right - they are both. There is no big “or” between the two. Colin and Penelope are friends and lovers, and all of it is a beauty to witness.
Okay that’s it! If you’ve made it this far thanks for sticking around to hear my obsessive little thoughts. I wish you a very happy Bridgerton rewatch :)

For federal public service (FPS), I know that:

• making any change, even small, is a very lengthy process in FPS because of the bureaucracy.
  
• it has a great pension plan from what I've heard.
  
• the steps to getting a job involve answering the screening questions, passing written tests and interviews which then allow you to be placed in a pool, and then you may be picked from the pool sometime or never. It's an extremely lengthy process to get hired.
  
• you need to go through a Reliability, Secret or Top Secret clearance screening (also for OPS).
  
• French. If you don't know French, it's career limiting.
  

However, I know very little about OPS. So far, all I know/have heard is:

• OPS requires a cover letter for all applications whereas the federal public service (FPS) has screening questions.
  
• OPS has higher salaries.
  

How is OPS similar and different compared to FPS? What should I know? Additionally, if anyone can speak to the 5 points I made for FPS and how they compare in OPS, that would be great.
Thank you!

First / Patreon (Read 5 Chapters Ahead)

AKA: Ain’t Nothing but a Horndog
–
Private Owens let out another tired sigh as he sat there, his head held in his hands. After the incident with Petra, he’d been forcibly confined to his room, pending further disciplinary action. It didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly how he was going to be disciplined; at best, he figured he’d be getting a court martial. At worst, they’d probably just throw him out the airlock or something.
Harsh, to be sure, but if he’d actually succeeded in inadvertently costing humanity their spot as a central player on the galactic stage, then no punishment was truly out of the question. Hell, Major Barnes had talked about having him drawn and quartered, and if he truly had fucked up that monumentally bad, then it wasn’t even out of the question.
“Way to go, idiot…” Owens muttered to himself. “All this because you couldn’t stay away from the booze or keep it in your pants for a night…”
He let out yet another sigh of despondency, bringing a hand up to brush through his auburn-colored hair. He’d just had it cut short, which was a good thing, because it meant that he’d actually look presentable at his soon-to-be funeral.
Assuming Major Barnes let him keep his head, of course.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, the door to his quarters opened. Owens looked up, and was not surprised to see Major Barnes and Captain Johnson standing there. Somehow, they looked even more imposing than usual, which was odd given that Major Barnes was from Texas and built like the bulls he used to ride, while Captain Johnson was a former MMA fighter.
That was to say that if there were any two people the higher-ups would have sent to beat him to death with their bare hands, it’d be these two, to say nothing of the fact that they’d probably outright requested it given what he’d done.
Assuming they weren’t about to lead him to Captain Ulfur or something, of course. Couldn’t exactly discount that as a possibility, either.
“Alright, on your feet,” Major Barnes announced.
Private Owens blinked. “Sir?”
“I said, on your feet. Are you going to make me repeat myself again?”
“N-no, Sir.” Owens scrambled to his feet. He stood there at attention, doing his best not to start sweating bullets as Major Barnes leaned in to examine him, one hand on his chin.
“Hm…”
“Sir?”
The two of them locked eyes, Barnes’ set of brown staring into Owens’ green. And despite his best efforts, Owens couldn’t help but begin sweating then and there. Captain Johnson shifted a bit out of the corner of his eye, but Owens didn’t dare look over to him; experience had taught him that, much like a T-Rex, the Major’s vision was based on movement. This wasn’t to imply that he could only see things when they moved, but rather that moving was a good way to draw attention to oneself, in the same way that the squeaky wheel tended to get the grease.
To put it simply: predators enjoy it greatly when their prey tries to struggle. And at this moment in time, Owens was nothing if not the juiciest piece of prey available to his commanding officers on the whole station.
The seconds ticked by. Owens dared not count them, both because he didn’t want to press his luck and because he dreaded finding out how short eternity actually was. Finally, after those few agonizingly slow seconds passed, Major Barnes took a step back and let his hand fall from his chin, then clasped his arms behind his back.
“You have no idea how fucking lucky you are, Marine.”
Owens stiffened. “Sir?”
Major Barnes let out a tired sigh, then turned to Captain Johnson. “Smoking is still banned on this station, right?”
“It is outside of the dedicated smoking zones,” Johnson replied. “It upsets the Vuks’ sense of smell.”
“Damn… what about drinking?”
“Allowable outside of working hours, but I’d like to remind you that alcohol is what got us into this mess in the first place.”
“Ah, yes.” Major Barnes turned back towards Owens, his eyes narrowing. “Now, Private – perhaps you’d care to answer a question for me?”
“O-of course, Sir,” Owens stammered out.
“What in the hell made you think Jack Daniels was your friend?”
Owens felt a chill go down his spine. “Uh, Sir?”
“Stop phrasing my title like a question, please. Answer the question.”
Owens hesitated. Thankfully, Captain Johnson came to his rescue.
“Actually, if I remember right, the bartender said he was ordering Captain Morgan and tequila.”
Barnes let out a low whistle. “Damn, for real? What were you thinking, Private? You know rum and tequila don’t mix.”
“Apparently, he hasn’t heard how racist Captain Morgan is – everyone knows the Captain hates Mexicans.”
“U-um…” Private Owens said. “...Is this you both smoking me out?”
“Of course not, Private,” Major Barnes instantly replied. “After all, we’re not in a smoking area, remember?”
Private Owens wasn’t sure if the Major was trying to be dangerously sarcastic or if that was a genuine attempt at levity. In either case, he thought it best to stay silent. Finally, after a few more seconds had passed, Major Barnes shook his head.
“I mentioned earlier that you were lucky,” he said. “Hell, you’re probably the luckiest man alive. Possibly the luckiest man in history. Do you know why that is?”
“Because I’m not dead yet?”
“Partially, but no. No, you’re the luckiest man alive because, in spite of you making a drunken ass of yourself and banging their head diplomat, the Vuk voted to allow us into the Council, after all.”
Private Owens couldn’t help but sputter in surprise at that news. He took a moment to recover, then turned back towards the Major, surprise etched across his face. “You’re serious?” After a moment, he added, “Sir?”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” Major Barnes confirmed with a nod. “See how lucky you are, Private? Not only did you get laid, but you also somehow didn’t completely fuck everything up for our entire species, which means that I very unfortunately don’t get to space you.”
Private Owens hesitated. Next to him, Captain Johnson crossed his arms. “Breathe, Private. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Owens did as he was told, sucking in a deep breath of air before exhaling it. Once he had taken a breath to calm himself, he opened his eyes again, once more staring at Major Barnes.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, Sir… what happens now?”
“Good question,” Barnes replied. “Well, given that you might have actually done all of humanity a huge solid by sleeping with Petra, there’s not really much I can do to actually punish you. I mean, I could, but that’d reflect pretty badly on me, and if there’s one thing I care about, it’s my service record.”
“Immaculate service record,” Captain Johnson amended. “Downright radiant, really.”
“Exactly. And it’d really suck to mar it by having to write a young Marine for something like this, especially since it’s very possible that the only reason Petra voted yes was because the sex was so good.”
Private Barnes flushed red. “U-um… thanks, Sir. I think.”
“Don’t be so modest, Private – you know women talk. Well, word’s apparently gotten around, and now a fair few of the Vuk women are very curious about how the human mouth works. But that’s neither here nor there; the point is, we’re at a bit of an impasse. I can’t exactly smoke you for this, even though I really want to. But at the same time, I can’t just let you off the hook, either.”
“So… what do you plan to do with me, Sir?”
Major Barnes cracked a wide, wicked-looking grin. A chill went down Owens’ spine at the sight of it.
“Why, it’s simple, Private,” Barnes began, “in this situation, I think it only fitting that I throw you to the wolves… or, in this case, the devil dogs.”
Owens didn’t even have time to beg for mercy before Captain Johnson grabbed him and muscled him out the door, over to the barracks where the rest of his platoon was staying.
–
It wasn’t a surprise to Owens when they opened the door to the barracks and roughly shoved him inside, then closed it back up and locked it. He scrabbled at the door in vain for a moment before pausing and turning around.
His entire platoon was there, because of course they were.
Owens froze at the sight of them. Getting smoked by the Major and the Captain was bad enough, but that was nothing compared to the absolute fucking firestorm that was headed his way from the rest of the platoon. Slowly, he raised a hand.
“Uh, hey, guys,” he offered.
For a moment, nobody said or did anything. It was deathly silent in the barracks. But then, it happened.
Someone started the slow clap.
It began as just one person, but rapidly grew to two, and then three, and then all of a sudden, they were all doing it. And as they clapped, they were shouting at him, or rather, they were chanting – one simple word, which ordinarily wouldn’t have had much meaning, but with the way they were saying it, Owens just knew it was going to haunt him until he was discharged.
And that word was…
“Horn-Dog! Horn-Dog! Horn-Dog!”
Owens cringed as the word reached his ears. Unfortunately, that did nothing to actually block it out, and it only got worse when everyone in the platoon came up, still chanting, and took turns slapping him on the back.
And, naturally, the questions followed shortly thereafter.
“What was it like?”
“Was it as good as she’s making it sound?”
“Are you really that good with your tongue?”
“What’s it like being an actual furry?”
“Guys!” Owens finally blurted out, having had enough. “Look, I’ve… I’ve had a bit of a long day, you know? So can I at least take a seat before you start bombarding me with questions?”
The platoon fell silent at that. Owens breathed a sigh of relief, then began to stride through them; they parted like the Red Sea as he walked.
“Carefully,” one of them said, “he’s a hero.”
Owens flipped that guy off without even looking back. Finally, he reached his bunk and took a seat on it, then breathed a sigh of relief.
And the moment he was settled, the platoon was surrounding him once more, eager for him to answer their questions. Owens took a breath.
“Let me get one thing perfectly straight,” he said, “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Dude, come the fuck on,” one of the men, Corporal Ramirez, protested. “You realize that she’s been telling her people about it, right?”
“For real, man,” Sergeant Douglas agreed with a nod. “Some of the Vuk females have been eye-fucking us ever since.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious. Apparently, that tongue do be putting in the work.”
Owens’ brow furrowed. “That’s nasty, dude.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You did it, not me! I’m just reporting some of the shit that’s been happening ever since you fucking gave Lassie the ol’ in-out.”
“First of all, don’t talk about her that way,” Owens warned. “I get that you’re just joking, but she’s still a diplomat, as well as the reason we’re even having this conversation right now. And not in that way!” He hurriedly added when he saw several of the men about to say something. “She was the deciding vote. If it weren’t for her coming through for us, we’d have been fucked.”
Corporal Ramirez hesitated, but only for a moment. “I mean-”
“Dude, don’t.”
“I’m just saying-”
“I am seriously begging you not to say it.”
Ramirez paused, but eventually, his baser instincts won out. “...She definitely did come through for us, and at least one of us was definitely fucked.”
Owens closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath before opening them again. “...Just for that, I’m not gonna tell you all what it was like.”
“Dude, come on,” Sergeant Douglas protested. “You’re really gonna do us like this? You’re gonna just fucking Captain Kirk it up and then refuse to talk about it?”
“Yes, I-” Owens paused. “...Captain Kirk?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Hey, you’re the first human to actually fuck an alien, at least as far as anyone knows. It fits.”
“No, no, I’m not complaining, it’s just… I can’t be Shepard?”
“The fuck you talking about? You’re no Shepherd, that’s for sure.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you couldn’t keep the wolf away.” Owens glared at him and Douglas just rolled his eyes. “Come on, Horndog, you’re just teeing these things up for me at this point. I can go all night.”
“Shame he couldn’t,” Ramirez added. “Or did he only stop because he got caught?”
“That’s a fair question, actually. Horndog, be honest – if you hadn’t been caught, would there have been another round?”
“How many rounds were there, anyway?” one of the other Marines asked.
“Do you think she’d have wanted breakfast afterwards?” another added. “Makes me wonder… do you think the Vuk prefer waffles, or pancakes?”
“I dunno, man. They seem pretty partial to creampies, if you ask me.”
“Guys!” Owens shouted, cutting them all off. He grit his teeth for a moment, but then let out another exhale. “...It probably goes without saying, but I am very, very, ridiculously tired right now. I’m very thirsty and I haven’t had anything to eat in a long-ass time.”
Ramirez opened his mouth to say something.
“Ramirez, if you say what I know you’re going to say, I will seriously fucking Code Red you by myself.”
Ramirez closed his mouth and said nothing.
Owens let out yet another exhale. “Look, fellas – let me just get some sleep, and then I’ll tell you as much as I can about it without it being disrespectful to her. Okay?”
“Sure, man, whatever you say,” Douglas offered.
“Thanks, guys.”
With that, Owens laid down in his bunk and closed his eyes, doing his best to enjoy the silence.
It lasted for all of five seconds before someone broke it.
“So, was this technically bestiality?”
Owens threw a blind punch, and just like that, the entire barracks erupted into chaos.

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard, for the help with writing this story.

Not a nurse but need advice, going to make this short & sweet because I'm genuinely confused and currently overthinking. Before I began my MA courses in November of last year I was a Phlebotomist / Lab Tech for a little over two years. I've drawn blood/ handled tubes thousands of times. The current hospital I began working (/training) in on the 8th has a very short staffed lab so I took it upon myself to help since it’s a literal shit show in there when there’s an influx in patients. The lab has been saying random tubes that l've drawn has hemolyzed, one of the techs said & I quote "It's the way it’s being drawn.." under their breath to themself and I overheard it. I'm so confused because I haven't changed anything I've been doing for over two years and RARELY had any tube hemolyze even when I first began drawing blood. I invert the correct amount of times, very step by step when drawing, I don't take too long to send blood to the lab.. It's happened more than l'd like since the 8th. I'm not what so ever blaming the lab techs handling the samples, but l literally haven't changed anything that I do and do it by the book every single time. I'm really starting to wonder if it's me or some other reasons/ certain handling of the tubes. Any advice would help.

Hellooooo, welcome to my tedtalk!
I went to the Air Canada Rouge Recruiting event on April 25 and was successful.
I sent in my documents and got an email back on April 30 with next step instructions. Which consist of Medical evaluation, BC and the language assessment.
The BC email was actually sent to me on April 29 and I completed it ASAP
Next I did the language test on May 10 ( Arabic). It became evident that they have 3rd party providers who conduct the call and I didn't appreciate there arabic from someone who's been speaking Arabic all their life. The lady that took the test didn't give me any instructions and told me to wait for ACR to contact me.
I didn't hear anything for a couple days and then I sent them an email as I was concerned about my Candidacy. "They told me that my Candidacy is still in the pipeline" and they will contact me as soon as they have updatets.
I have yet to receive my medical and I'm completely freaking out as I did hear they are planning to have training in June but they haven't confirmed a date yet.
Has anyone else who went to the event on April 25 received their medical yet or even an offer letter?
I'm absolutely losing patience and I'm afraid I'll never receive anything so if anyone out there is reading this please let me know how your experience has been so far 😭

Hellooooo, welcome to my tedtalk!
I went to the Air Canada Rouge Recruiting event on April 25 and was successful.
I sent in my documents and got an email back on April 30 with next step instructions. Which consist of Medical evaluation, BC and the language assessment.
The BC email was actually sent to me on April 29 and I completed it ASAP
Next I did the language test on May 10 ( Arabic). It became evident that they have 3rd party providers who conduct the call and I didn't appreciate there arabic from someone who's been speaking Arabic all their life. The lady that took the test didn't give me any instructions and told me to wait for ACR to contact me.
I didn't hear anything for a couple days and then I sent them an email as I was concerned about my Candidacy. "They told me that my Candidacy is still in the pipeline" and they will contact me as soon as they have updatets.
I have yet to receive my medical and I'm completely freaking out as I did hear they are planning to have training in June but they haven't confirmed a date yet.
Has anyone else who went to the event on April 25 received their medical yet or even an offer letter?
I'm absolutely losing patience and I'm afraid I'll never receive anything so if anyone out there is reading this please let me know how your experience has been so far 😭

Hi Guys, This is an update on the original post made by allimeantwas which has been achieved and I could not comment over there.
(Original Post link: https://www.reddit.com/OculusQuest/comments/sq5lua/simple_script_for_2d_to_3d_video_conversion/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2 Title: "Simple Script for 2D to 3D Video Conversion"
Many of you may have followed his steps, but the script might not have worked. Specifically if you may have an AMD GPU. There is no issue with the script. One of the parameters in it "set encoder=hevc_nvenc" was the issue. hevc_nvenc uses nvcuda.dll which does not exist for AMD GPU users.
Open that script in a notepad, change that value from hevc_nvenc to libx264, then it should work.
Yes you still need to install FFmpeg. Here is a guide which I followed if you guys cannot figure out the installation process from the official site. PS - I suck at coding and stuff :( https://www.geeksforgeeks.org/how-to-install-ffmpeg-on-windows/
Credit goes to this post by driesj on github who came up with the solution. Original Post: https://github.com/Raveleffmpeg-cpp/issues/5
Enjoy Guys and spread this post to any thread you come across where people couldn't get the script to run.
Cheers!!!

TLDR - Shiny Weapon Drop Rate is 3.85% (1/26~) base, from any source. probably. With the 'Drop Rate Buff' added on May 21, 2024, that is likely doubled, to a 7.7% (1/13~) chance.
I tracked 1k drops for drop, attunement, shiny, and perks (just to quantify how unlucky i am)

Shiny Drop Rate over time

https://i.ibb.co/pPNv1p5/image.png
As the sample size builds up, there is some fluctuation until it stabilizes between 3.5% - 4.0% Sample is obviously not large enough to be certain. But based on Bungie's historical enthusiasm for using the number 7 literally everywhere, I am drawing the conclusion they tested the initial drop rate as either 7, 7.7, or 7.77%, and found it a bit too high, so sliced it in half. With today's 'BRAVE drop buff', it appears to be a drop rate buff specifically for shiny drops, which is likely doubling it, to restore the drop rate to 7.7% (ish) (probably)
and some of the raw stats -
Some of the finer details you may be interested in:

Raw Info
Total Weapon Drops	1025
Total Shiny Weapon Drops	38
Total Drops while Attuned to Any Gun	1011
Total Drops, Dropped Gun is Attuned	493
Attune Hit Percent	48.76%
Shiny Percent	3.71%
Shiny Hit Rate	1 / 26.97
Drop is Shiny, AND is Attuned	23 / 38
Shiny=Attuned Percent	60.53%

Gun	Total Drops	Attuned Drop Hits	Attuned Drop Chances	Attune Hit Pct	Attune Hit Rate
recluse	97	0	0	0	0 / 0
hungJury	89	0	0	0	0 / 0
succession	91	0	0	0	0 / 0
edgeTransit	134	94	183	51.37%	94 / 183
fallingGuillotine	0	0	0	0	0 / 0
elsiesRifle	106	44	89	49.44%	44 / 89
mountainTop	79	24	59	40.68%	24 / 59
midnightCoup	170	121	242	50.00%	121 / 242
hammerhead	132	106	220	48.18%	106 / 220
forebearance	0	0	0	0	0 / 0
blastFurnace	63	63	151	41.72%	63 / 151
lunasHowl	64	41	67	61.19%	41 / 67​

Attunement Rate for Mountaintop, Luna, are a bit off, but the sample size is small enough to attribute it to luck. You may have noticed an oddity though - 0 drops of Falling Guillotine, or Forbearance. So lets also get into some drop mechanics / Onslaught Tips

Weapon Drop Pool

Your initial drop pool, is only the first 4 weapons available - Recluse, Hung Jury, Succession, and Edge Transit. The remaining 8 weapons cannot drop, until you FULLY complete the associated weapon quest. Specifically, when the quest makes you Attune to the weapon on step 2, for the first time, that adds the drop into your loot pool. If you just don't do the quest, don't attune, etc - you can remove guns you don't want, from your loot pool. Between the weapon unlock mechanics, the layout of the map, and the initial plan of '6 extra weapons unlock 1 per week', I believe the initial plan was 8 weeks of Onslaught, with 1 unlock per week, and that was 'buffed' before the announcement to 6 + 6 over weeks, and finally into 6 + 6 over 3 weeks.

Shiny Drop Sources

All weapon drops are equal - wave 10 boss, opening the chest w/ 10 tokens, claiming a vendor engram from Shaxx, or turning in a weekly Arcite bounty - Every drop has a chance to be shiny.
finally, if you only take one piece of information away -

Heavy Ammo Crates in Onslaught only despawn when a build phase ends, or a player enters the boss portal.

NOT the Spark / Round 6 Portal. If you have a heavy crate sitting on the ground when the Spark/Rift portal opens, Don't open it, leave it outside, burn your heavy clearing the Sparkbearers inside, then refill after.

😱Client raised their scores 200 points on all 3 bureaus in 60 days (plus 30-day prep for a total of 90 days)! Get part 2 of this video on telegram at https://sendmeto.co/telegram. If you would like to get a free credit sweep consultation head to https://my740.com. Credit Sweep Cheat Sheet Link is below this text. 👉Get the 4-page cheat sheet FREE on my Telegram channel https://sendmeto.co/telegram
Access the Cheat Sheet showin this video on my telegram channel in the pinned messages at https://sendmeto.co/telegram
Get the Chat with Credit Course at https://sendmeto.co/chat. Get the Dispute Funnel Course at https://sendmeto.co/funnel. Learn about the coaching on my Patreon store under memberships at https://patreon.com/740creditscores
250 collections removed before and after video https://youtu.be/zam8srBB7Qo Importance of sending dispute letters via certified mail short https://youtube.com/shorts/rK-rnS9gJ74?feature=share
Client results playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCkW-fTkIGnxOdGjZrudHSn-ygbYuWuQO
Join my Exclusive Youtube Newsletter at https://sendmeto.co/ytfam, where you'll receive exclusive content, free offers, discounts, early releases and more! As a way to say thank you, you'll receive free and instant access to my "How to Remove Any Account" Google Spreadsheet that walks you through creating a dispute reason step-by-step.
Check out the amazing credit repaicredit sweep store at
Check out the amazing credit repaicredit sweep store at https://www.patreon.com/740CreditScores/shop
Watch my most recent video: https://mylast.video/ask-kristin
Join my Exclusive Youtube Newsletter at https://sendmeto.co/ytfam, where you'll receive exclusive content, free offers, discounts, early releases and more! As a way to say thank you, you'll receive free and instant access to my "How to Remove Any Account" Google Spreadsheet that walks you through creating a dispute reason step-by-step.
Check out the store: https://www.youtube.com/c/AskKristin/store
🔮SUBSCRIBE TO MY CHANNEL 🔮 https://www.youtube.com/c/Ask-Kristin?sub_confirmation=1
✨ Check out all 3 credit reports and scores with the same credit monitoring I show in my videos and use for my clients with SmartCredit https://sendmeto.co/smartcredit or IdentityIQ: ✨ https://sendmeto.co/identityiq
🧙‍♀️ GET HELP WITH YOUR CREDIT JOURNEY DIY awesome free tools, tutorials and downloads - https://vault.my740.com Free credit sweep course: https://hub.my740.com
🦸‍♀️ DFY credit sweep service free consultation 🦸‍♀️ https://my740.com Let's jump on a call and see if I can help!
⭐️ Video Notes:

I love your big cheeks when you smile. You always wanted to get braces, but I love your teeth the way they are.
I love your soft heart. I’d always admire how you cry. I’m sorry I made you cry so much sometimes. I’m too much like my parents.
I love that you always want to grow and how you can look forward. I’m so proud of you. I’m so grateful I was there to see you get your degree, to see you move out, to be part of your life.
I love that you love yellow and sunflowers and the sky. You were always so bright. I also don’t like it now too, because whenever I see something happy, I think of you, and it makes me really sad. Being happy makes me sad.
If art was for me, music was for you. I miss hearing you hum and sing. You’re a great singer. I can’t listen to soft songs anymore.
I loved giving you my last bite every time. Sitting across from you made me happy. It was always enough for me to just be with you. I didn’t need any gifts or flowers or letters, but I got those too anyway.
Sometimes you’d slap your big belly, and I’d slap it too. I liked that. Do you remember when I’d cuff your sleeves before work? Or run to get your hairbrush one more time? How you’d scare me through the window while I washed the dishes? How I’d hug you at the door when you came home? Scrubbing your back in the shower? Waking you up just so I could remind you that I love you? I miss calling you over so you could just lay on top of me. When we rolled on the floor after moving into your new apartment.
My friends and family say I idealize you too much. But I don’t think so. I did the cliche thing, the important healing step, where I made a list of all the pet peeves and transgressions. But it didn’t feel right, hating you or villainizing you. You had your flaws, your quirks and those were fine with me. It just reminded me you were human. The weird way you sleep, how’d you get a little too angry at video games, how you’d be too anxious to go out sometimes. I love the human you.
Sometimes I wish you were horrible to me, to make this easier. Everyone else I talk to had horrible exes, mean ones. When I listen to their stories, it’s not you I think about. It’s me, maybe. Maybe that’s what I am to you.
I went to Chickfila and Cheesecake Factory on my own to try and replace our memories. I took myself to brunch and looked at the colors of the floor, the ceilings and the letters hanging on the wall to stay grounded. I browsed the shelves of the Korean Mart where I’d buy you snacks and looked at the chocolate bar selection at Aldi’s. I went to an arcade with new strangers I met and tried to win myself my own prize.
My therapist asked me to recall a happy memory, a content one. I told her about how I drove your car over the Golden Gate Bridge. We stopped at the viewing vista over the San Francisco Bay, and I kissed you on the cheek as I took a picture. It was my favorite picture of us, I had it printed so many times and pinned to my wall. In that memory, I felt safe, I felt warm, I felt content, I felt loved.
I hate how you said I never loved you, how I am unable to love. What is this feeling then? And where does this pain come from, if not my shattered heart?
Because I love you, I’m supposed to let you go. Be happy for you and send you off with love. But you’re not here anyway, so I hope it’s okay if I hold on for a little while longer. Write you a letter, or two, and look for you in every song lyric and in every flower by the street. Think of you as the clouds pass by and feel you in my chest when I find a laugh.