For a long time, I thought there was no greater feeling of dread than clocking into a job you hate. Three days a week after school and every other weekend, there I was, standing in front of the time clock at Sunset Grove. By the time I was sixteen, my parents told me that I had to find a job and start working. Unfortunately, there weren’t many options for a sixteen-year-old looking for work in Driftwood. It was either fast food, retail, or a retirement home. For whatever reason, I chose the retirement home.
It’s not that I had a problem with starting work at that age, it’s just that scrubbing pureed vegetables and mashed potatoes off fifty plates a night, with the cook yelling over my shoulder to pick up the pace, wasn’t exactly fulfilling work. The pocket money was nice, though. There’s nothing better than being a teenager with almost nothing but disposable income.
I watched the digital clock tick over from 3:59 to 4:00, begrudgingly typed in my employee ID, and made my way to the kitchen. As always, there was a stack of dishes left over from the shift before mine that would leave me playing catch-up for the rest of the night.
Becca, a thirty-something waitress with pale skin and a slim figure, swept through the doors as I was working through my stack. She was the only member of the wait staff I knew who could manage to keep a sunny disposition no matter how bad the day got.
Her shoulders seemed to relax a little when she saw me. “Hey, Arty, I need glasses.”
“Got it,” I replied.
“Thank you!” she said in a sing-song voice as she picked up a tub of silverware and rushed back out the doors. The wait staff was always in a rush this time of day. They only had about a half-hour to set the tables before some of the early-birds started showing up for dinner.
I loaded a tray with glasses and sent them through the commercial steam washer to my left, pulling the hood down with a heavy metal clunk. Once they were done, Becca came through and took the tray out to the dining room.
Before long, the cook began setting out room service trays. I never understood why it was the dishwasher’s job to deliver room service, but nevertheless, I began loading the trays into my cart. Most room service orders came from the same residents, which meant I’d long since worked out the most efficient way to load the cart. As I was loading, I noticed one of my regulars, room 2H, was missing. It could have been that she just decided to have dinner in the dining room today, but as long as I’d been working at Sunset Grove, I’d never known 2H to have dinner anywhere but her room.
As I walked down the hallway past 2H, I realized why. There on the door was a small laminated sign with a photo of the woman who’d lived in 2H.
Lilith Holmes 1928 - 2014
That was it. Just a name and a pair of dates. Not even a “Rest in Peace.” But it got the point across. I felt a tinge of guilt at the fact that I hadn’t known the woman’s name. I’d been working at Sunset Grove for a year, and I still referred to most of the residents by their room numbers.
This wasn’t the first of these types of signs I’d seen. There had been two or three deaths in the past year, each one memorialized with a cheap laminated sign that would be taken down after a week or two. It may sound callous, but I was never bothered by the deaths. They were simply a fact of life working in a place full of people entering the final phase of their lives. It helped that I didn’t make much effort to get close to the residents. I never wanted this place to bleed into what I considered to be my real life, so whenever I was at Sunset Grove, I was in “work mode.” I would put on a kind face, greet coworkers and residents with a smile, and otherwise speak only when spoken to. It was easier that way.
​
Room 2H stayed empty for a month. The sign, as they always do, disappeared after a while. I wondered if that meant they’d already cleaned out all of Mrs. Holmes’s belongings or if they were still entombed behind that locked door.
Eventually, the day came that I had a room service tray for room 2H again. It seemed so sudden. I hadn’t heard anything about a new resident moving in. I shrugged it off and loaded the tray onto my cart, thinking it must have happened on one of my days off. I hoped the new tenant wouldn’t be a handful. I may not have known Mrs. Holmes well, but she was always nice and courteous to me when I brought her her food. It’s more than I could say for some of the other residents.
I rode the elevator up to the second floor. Room 2H was my second stop from there. I knocked and pushed open the door into the dimly lit room. The blinds were all drawn, and there was only a single table lamp turned on in the corner across the room. I could see the new tenant sitting in a recliner on the opposite wall. It was a woman, with curled white hair that fell to her hunched shoulders. In the dark, I couldn’t make out her face, but her form was familiar. As I got closer, I realized it was Mrs. Holmes sitting in the chair.
I faltered. “I... have your dinner here for you, ma’am,” I stammered.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Set it on the table here, dear.” Her tone was jovial like always, though it felt strained. As if she were forcing it.
I set the tray down on the end table beside her. As she turned to look at it, her eyes seemed to catch the tiny amount of light in the room and glowed for a split second.
“Thank you,” she chimed.
“You’re welcome,” I said, turning on my heel and heading for the door.
I stopped by the second floor nurse’s station on my way down the hall and found Ted inside. He was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, known around the facility for his eccentric taste in scrubs. Today’s were navy blue with a messy pattern of stars. Ted was the only nurse I knew by name, mostly because he gave me no other choice. It was common knowledge at Sunset Grove that if Ted wanted to chat you up, there was nothing you could do to stop it.
“Hey, Ted,” I said, poking my head around the door.
“Arthur!” he called, sitting back in his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I saw Mrs. Holmes is back,” I said. “What happened? Why was she gone?”
“Sorry, bud, I shouldn’t really be gossiping about that.”
“I understand. It’s just... there was that sign on her door a while ago. I thought she died.”
“Oh, that,” Ted laughed. “That was a little misunderstanding. But as you saw, she’s alive and well.”
“Right,” I said. “I should go. I’ve still got a cart full of meals to deliver.”
“Best not keep ‘em waiting!” Ted joked as I left the nurse’s station.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Holmes for the remainder of my shift that night. How could the nurses make such a drastic mistake, confusing a resident for dead? And where exactly had Mrs. Holmes been for the past month? At the hospital? With family? The whole thing irked me more than it probably should have. I didn’t like thinking about this place during my time off, but thoughts of Mrs. Holmes stuck with me all week.
I delivered room service to her the rest of the week. Each time I entered 2H, the blinds were drawn, the room kept dark. As always, I set her tray down on the end table next to the recliner, she thanked me, and I moved on to the next room.
The next stop on my route was 2K, Ms. Ganz, whose name I only knew because she had a reputation around the building for being very outwardly spoken. There was rarely a week that went by where I wasn’t overhearing the nurses laughing about something Ms. Ganz had said that day.
Most days, Ms. Ganz left her door open. I knocked anyway and passed through the open frame. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her temples before she looked up and saw me.
“Set it down right there,” she instructed, pointing to the rolling TV stand where she took her dinner every day.
I did as she said and set the food down on the stand, forcing a smile for good measure. She scooted off the bed and hobbled over to the chair to sit down. I pushed the stand closer to her and lowered it down so she could reach. She examined the tray, then picked up the pudding cup and handed it to me.
“You take that,” she said. “I don’t need it.”
“That’s alright,” I protested. “I don’t need it either.”
Ms. Ganz pawning her desserts off on me was beginning to become a habit. As I tried to set the pudding cup back on the tray, she pushed it back toward me. It clearly wasn’t a fight I was going to win, so I relented and accepted the pudding.
Ms. Ganz got to work preparing her coffee, which she had with every meal. I always loaded her tray with three creams and three sugars, but I’d learned in time to wait until she finished mixing before I left because, more often than not, she’d ask for more.
“Is this decaf?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said.
She grumbled. “I need caffeine. People keeping me up all night. Knocking on my door.”
“Knocking on your door?”
“Middle of the night,” Ms. Ganz exclaimed. “They come, they knock, I open the door, and they’re gone. My family doesn’t pay $2000 a month for me to get pranked all night long.”
“Have you talked to the nurses about it?” I asked.
She snorted. “They’re probably the ones doing it.” Ms. Ganz winced and reached for her forehead. “Now, I’ve had this headache all day thanks to them.”
“Sorry about that. I hope you feel better,” I said as I made my way out of the room.
It became apparent very quickly Ms. Ganz wasn’t the only resident dealing with these problems. I overheard the nurses talking about multiple residents on the second floor complaining about someone knocking on their door at night. It only got worse throughout the week, with even more residents complaining. There were more complaints of headaches, too. Some residents even started exhibiting symptoms of fever.
When I came to serve Ms. Ganz her dinner a week later, her door was shut. I knocked and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked, so I went inside. Ms. Ganz was lying in bed, a fresh sheen of sweat shimmering in the light across her forehead. She hadn’t even touched her lunch. I quietly swapped the trays, trying not to disturb her and tip-toed out of the room, stopping by the nurses’ station before I got back to work. Ted was there again, wearing a loud, floral-patterned set of scrubs this time.
“Hey, Ted, is Ms. Ganz alright?” I asked.
“She’s just a little under the weather,” he said. “She’s not the only one. There’s some kind of bug going around.”
Ted scooted his chair across the room and pulled something out of a box. He tossed me a medical mask.
“You should probably wear one of these while you’re goin’ into rooms,” he said.
I nodded and put the mask on, leaving Ted to his work. There were four more residents laid up in bed on the second floor. Weirdly, no one on the first or third floor seemed to be affected.
Things only seemed to get worse as the days went on. More and more residents were laid up with fevers. Soon enough, no one on the second floor was healthy enough to go to the dining room, which meant my room service runs were getting longer by the day. Now that I had to deliver trays to every room on the second floor, there was no way I could get it done on my own, but even with Becca helping me with runs, I was still clocking out of work an hour late most nights.
As we rolled the cart up to room 2H, Becca hesitated.
“Do you mind getting this one?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
I had no problem bringing Mrs. Holmes her food. What caught me off guard was the way Becca seemed to give the room a wide berth as we passed and the trepidation in her voice as she spoke.
“Thanks, Arty,” Becca said. “Something about her just creeps me out. Don’t you feel that?”
“It’s a little weird how she sits in the dark all the time,” I admitted, “but I wouldn’t call it creepy.”
“So brave,” Becca teased. “I’ll bring Ms. Ganz her tray and meet you down the hall.”
“Sounds good.”
I knocked on the door and went into 2H. As expected, Mrs. Holmes was seated in her recliner with the blinds drawn and the single lamp on in the corner. Sometimes I wondered if she ever even moved from that spot.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Holmes?” I asked through the medical mask I was now required to wear at all times while on the second floor.
“Are you a nurse now?” She asked. Her tone seemed intended to be joking, but it came across more accusatory.
“No, it’s just that we can’t seem to get rid of this bug going around. I was just curious if you were still feeling alright.”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly.
Mrs. Holmes was the only resident on the second floor who wasn’t sick. The bug hadn’t spread to any of the staff members either. A thought occurred to me.
“Have you heard anyone knocking on your door at night?” I asked.
Mrs. Holmes’s eyes shot to mine, momentarily glowing in the light as they had once before. She stared at me with wide eyes that seemed to be studying me.
Finally, her tight lips peeled apart and she simply said, “I have not.”
Suddenly, I understood why Becca hadn’t wanted to come in here. I could feel the goose flesh spreading across my arm and a shiver run down my spine. I didn’t want to linger here any longer than I had to.
“Have a good night,” I said, mimicking my usual tone, before hustling out of the room.
I grabbed the cart and pushed it quickly down the hall toward Ms. Ganz’s room where I would find Becca, but as I rounded the corner, I saw a crowd of nurses surrounding the door. Becca was standing off to the side, a distraught look on her face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I went in to give her her food,” Becca choked out. “Her eyes were open, so I thought she was awake. So, I asked her if she had enough cream and sugar for her coffee, but she didn’t respond.”
“Oh no,” I realized.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Becca said. “I’ve never seen one of them after... after they died. Sorry, Arty, I need to take five. Do you think you can finish this yourself today?”
“That’s fine. I’ve got it.”
Becca laid her hand on my shoulder as she walked away, her other hand combing through her hair.
Becca didn’t come in the next day. With the wait staff being short handed, I had to do the room service deliveries myself. I hesitated before going into 2H, but when I reached for the handle, I was relieved to find that it was locked. Some of the nurses must have been inside, so I left the tray by the door and went on my way.
As I passed by Ms. Ganz’s room, I saw the sign.
Mallory Ganz 1939 - 2014
She was about ten years younger in the photo, smiling next to her daughter. I felt a tug inside my gut and suddenly realized I wanted to know what was happening. Where was this sickness coming from? Why wasn’t it affecting the residents on the first or third floors or the staff? And why was Mrs. Holmes the only resident on the second floor who was still healthy?
I finished delivering trays and stashed the cart in the corner. I figured I had at least ten more minutes before my boss would start wondering where I was, so I found Ted in the nurse’s station.
“Hey, Ted, are you busy?” I asked.
“Never not busy, Arthur,” he grinned. “What can I do for you?”
“You’ve heard the residents complaining about someone knocking on their doors at night, right? Do you have any idea what that might be about?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it. Best I can figure, it’s someone screwin’ around on the night shift.”
“Well, there are cameras, right? Couldn’t we find out who’s doing it?”
Ted’s brow furled. “Why are you so interested?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I guess it’s just that, whoever it was, they were bothering Ms. Ganz. I thought maybe we could find them and get them to stop to, like, honor her in a way.”
Ted pushed an office chair toward me with his foot. “Sit down a minute. I’ll pull up the footage.”
“Thank you.”
I sat down and watched Ted scrub through last night’s security footage. It was strange seeing the hallway so empty. During the daytime hours, there were constantly nurses or housekeepers coming up and down the halls, but at night, they were dead.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement on the screen. Ted let go of the mouse and let the footage play out in real-time. I felt my chest tighten as I recognized the figure on the screen. Mrs. Holmes. I watched her walk down the hall, moving with an unnatural weightlessness for her age. She stopped in front of Ms. Ganz’s room and knocked on the door. Then, all of a sudden, she just faded away.
I leaned in closer to the screen. Ted sat upright in his chair.
“Was that a glitch?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The timecode looks normal, but it must’ve been. Either way, I guess we know who’s been causin’ trouble at night. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Holmes.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I blurted out.
Ted looked at me quizzically. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew something was off about Mrs. Holmes. There was no telling what would happen if someone confronted her, but how was I supposed to convince Ted of that?
“Sorry,” I said. “Thanks for the help, Ted.”
I left the nurse’s station without saying another word. I could only hope that my initial warning would be enough to make Ted hesitate until I could figure out what to do next.
My heart dropped when I couldn’t find Ted the next day. He was always there. Every single weekday, he was there.
None of the other nurses had seen him either. Apparently, he hadn’t called out sick or anything. As far as anyone knew, he simply hadn’t shown up for work. But I knew better. I knew he’d gone and talked to Mrs. Holmes, and she’d done something to him. Could he still be there, inside room 2H? Was he still alive? Had he mentioned me?
I worked the first hour of my shift constantly looking over my shoulder. By 5:00, the cook started lining up room service trays. I was on my own again. Apparently, Becca was taking some time off after what she’d been through. I couldn’t blame her, but I found myself desperately wishing I didn’t have to be alone.
My heart thumped with dread every step I took toward room 2H. I prayed the door would be locked again, but no such luck. I pushed the door open slowly and let the light from the hall flood into the dim room. Mrs. Holmes was in her recliner, but as I got closer, I noticed her eyes were shut. She was asleep.
I set the tray down quietly and made for the door, but before I left, I felt curiosity tug me back. I wanted to know what happened to Ted. If there was any trace of him in the room, this might be my only chance to find it.
I inched heel-toe back through the entryway and into the bedroom. I found an antique lamp on the nightstand and flipped it on, bathing the room in a hazy yellow light. The room was pristine, not even a crease in the bedding. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Blood? A body? Just anything that would confirm the insane thoughts that were running through my mind.
I moved to the bathroom, but, like the bedroom, it was spotless. I checked every inch of it, even getting down on my hands and knees to inspect the bath mat for blood stains. I was starting to feel like a lunatic. Maybe everything that was happening was exactly what it seemed, and the rest of it was all just in my head.
Feeling a little ridiculous, I stepped out of the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me.
“What were you doing in there?” Mrs. Holmes’s voice was sharp and sent a jolt of fear through my body.
I turned and saw her standing in the corner by her recliner. She looked tall—her shoulders not slumped like usual, and her eyes were glowing in the light again.
I didn’t know what to say. “S-sorry,” I spat out, then hurried for the door. Mrs. Holmes stood motionless, watching me go.
Thanks to my little investigation, dinner was nearly over by the time I got back to the kitchen, and there was a mountain of dishes waiting for me by the sink. I shook off the unsettling thoughts plaguing my mind and got to work. It was going to be another late night, and it only got worse when the cook brought over a stack of burnt pans that would take ages of scrubbing to get clean.
It was nearly an hour past the end of my shift by the time I’d finally finished all the dishes. The wait staff had clocked out thirty minutes ago. That was fine. I was used to being the last one in the kitchen. It was the dishwasher’s job to clean the floors at the end of the night after everyone else had gone home. That night, though, I should have been scared, but the weight of being alone hadn’t hit me yet. My mind was too preoccupied with work.
I finished mopping the floor, meaning all that was left was to take the trash out to the dumpster. I gathered up all the bags and took them out into the hallway, then out the back door. I set the bags down and propped the door open with a pen. After 8:00, the building locked down, and I would need a keycard to get back in, something the facility didn’t grant to dishwashers.
I hoisted the garbage bags into the dumpster and turned back toward the building. Before I could even take a step back toward the door, though, I heard it clunk into place. I ran over and tugged on the handle. Locked. I’d have to walk all the way around the building and come in the front entrance, probably scaring the hell out of the secretary at the reception desk, who certainly wouldn’t be expecting anyone to come in at this hour.
Crickets chirped loudly in the fields around the parking lot as I rounded the building. There was no one at the reception desk when I walked in. The secretary was probably out having a cigarette somewhere. I walked through the dining room and back into the kitchen, letting the door swing freely behind me. I heard it brush across the frame once, twice, then suddenly stop. I didn’t think much of it until I heard a knock on the door.
My heart froze, fear tightening an ice-cold grip around my throat. I turned and, through the window, saw a pair of glowing eyes on the other side of the door. Ever so slowly, the door started to push inward as Mrs. Holmes crept inside. I felt like I should have screamed in that moment, but nothing came to me. It felt as though my lungs had completely deflated at the sight of her.
She stepped toward me. I stepped back until I felt my back press against the counter behind me. I wanted to run, but something told me I couldn’t outrun whatever was standing in front of me. My hands reached onto the counter and felt for anything I could use to defend myself. I felt the lukewarm touch of the porcelain plates and wrapped my fingers around the rim of one. I waited as Mrs. Holmes inched closer until, finally, I whipped my arm around and smashed the plate against her head.
She wailed and faltered a few steps, buying me enough time to run deeper into the kitchen, toward the knives. She was on me again before I could reach them. I felt a wet sting on my calf and looked down to see her there, latched on with her teeth sinking deep into my flesh.
I fell onto the concrete floor, my left shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. I tried to crawl away but couldn’t break free of her inhuman weight. With my free leg, I kicked at her head as hard as I could until she released me. Her bloodstained mouth hissed at me as I scrambled to my feet.
I ripped the largest knife I could find out of the block and spun around, ready to drive it into Mrs. Holmes’s chest, but she was gone. My eyes flicked frantically around the room, looking for any sign of her. Then I felt something drip onto my cheek. In the reflection of the knife blade, I could see the drop of blood rolling down my cheek. I looked up, and there she was.
She wasn't suspended from the ceiling; she was floating. As soon as I laid eyes on her, she dropped, falling right on top of me. I managed to raise the knife high enough and felt it pierce her gut as she landed on me. I think that was the only thing that saved me from her teeth sinking into my neck.
Mrs. Holmes reeled from the knife wound. She swung her arm out, and I felt the tremendous weight and strength behind it as it crashed into my side and threw me across the room. Pain shot through my back as I collided with the stainless steel of the dishwasher. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time licking my wounds. I pulled myself up to my feet just as Mrs. Holmes ripped the knife free of her gut. Coagulated blood seeped out of the gaping wound like thick mud.
Mrs. Holmes hunched over like a predator waiting to pounce. My heart raced, waiting for the moment. Like a bolt of lighting, it came. She leapt across the room at me. My instincts kicked in, and I ducked to the right. I heard a loud metallic crash as Mrs. Holmes’s body slammed into the dishwasher. I looked up and saw her top half lodged in the machine. Without even thinking about it, I yanked the lever, sending the hood down just far enough over Mrs. Holmes’s thin body to activate the machine.
She howled and screeched as the steam inside the dishwasher boiled her skin. I didn’t wait around for the cycle to finish. I saddled the pain in my back and my leg and ran out of the kitchen before she had a chance to escape. I didn’t dare look back.
​
Sunset Grove closed down last year, three years after I left for good that night. I never found out what became of Mrs. Holmes, but I don’t think she ever left. The article detailing Sunset Grove’s closure cites financial difficulty after a spike in mortality rates, and there had been more than one story about staff members going missing over the years. Ted was the first of them. I would have been the second.
For a long time, Sunset Grove haunted me. I would dream about being back in room 2H, cowering under Mrs. Holmes’s impossibly tall form, her skin blistered and rubbery from the burns I gave her. In time, those dreams faded. It hadn’t seemed possible, but my life started to return to a sense of normalcy.
Reading the article on Sunset Grove brought those memories crashing back. I tried to tell myself that I was safe, but... I don’t think I am anymore. Not since I heard a knock on my door the other night. I wanted so badly to believe it was nothing, just neighborhood kids messing around, but my head has been pounding ever since I heard it, my stomach twisted in knots, my breath short. I can’t sleep through the night anymore. I find myself staring out the window, watching. Sometimes, among the twinkling fireflies at the edge of the woods, I could swear I see a pair of glowing eyes watching me in the dark.

The bureaucracy of applying for a new passport has officially driven me insane.
I received a passport when I was 15. I know I need a new adult passport, not a renewal. I need a new passport before July 1st (as of posting this, the date is June 1st). There aren't many appointments for passport application approval available in the area but my tickets for the trip have already been purchased.
I understand I can wait until 2 weeks before we leave to go in person to apply for the passport. I also understand that I can have the passport shipping expedited once I have submitted the application through a service that would run upwards of $500-700. I understand all this can be done through federal establishments like libraries and post offices, but none near me have appointments and I want to make sure I've exhausted my options before driving several hours to other cities to do this.
Am I missing something? A potential government service I could be using? Or is everything genuinely this convoluted.
For context: I live within a 5 hour drive of Miami, Tampa, and Orlando International Airports, all of which have passport centers to my understanding.

Me(19F) and my girlfriend(19f) have been together for nearly 2 years but we're childhood best friends. We've had many ups and down in our relationship, but usually persevere over promises to get better for one another. Lately, I've agreed to act as her manager as she is an aspiring idol. It has all been fine and I don't mind the work it takes, even on top of my own group that I'm a part of. But lately she has been super standoffish and distant, treating me as if I'm not there. I wake up around 8-9am everyday but she doesn't get up or message me until about 2-4pm. And by then, half of my day is already done or I'm going into work. It's starting to really bother me as I'm someone who tends to enjoy company and talking to those I love. The both of us have BPD and are codependent on each other which is never am issue until she randomly withdraws and treats me like I mean nothing, despite everything I do. I voiced my concerns about her behavior last night and she explained that she's just been stressed which I completely understand; I just couldn't tell if I did something wrong or not. However, she said "there's things I have to say but I'll say them wrong right now". And that scares me and I'm freaking out. She, self-admitally, isn't very rational or logical at all when it comes to conflicts or issues. And it has led to major arguments between us where I've felt like I've had to drop how I feel and force myself to defend against the nonsense she would send my way. It has always been like this and she knows it upsets me. Our relationship nearly ended a month ago but since then we've been doing better and as weird as it sounds, my recent experience with being raped has drawn her closer to me. It's weird, maybe it's a guilt thing. But I cannot wrap my head around what it is she has to say to me, as it usually means I'm doing something she doesn't like. The only recent thing I can think of is when we were waiting for the bus and a message popped up from this "gay guy" she met on omegle where he said "hey my sexy little baby" and she swiped it away. Obviously, I demanded to see her messages with him and while she never spoke like that in return, she allowed him to continue. I asked her to block him and she did. I kinda shut down and went nonverbal, me being autistic and that's how I regulate myself and calm down. I later apologized for shutting down as I felt really guilty for assuming she was cheating. But even in this situation, I was justified in that reaction. I'm just really really struggling. I can't really ever talk to her about how I feel without her blowing it out of proportion and telling her friends how I'm in the wrong or abusive or manipulative, WHEN I GENUINELY WHOLEHEARTEDLY DID NOTHING WRONG.

Is anyone else not able to see the show times for Past Lives? I'm usually able to order tickets a few days or the week of the movies release date. But I don't see any local theaters near me with any showtimes.
I'm assuming its not showing around me. Or is there an issue going on?

Hei all,
I am seeking advices on handling toxic behavior oh coworkes.
In my Position, teamleader ans project Manager, i handle around 8 people in a department of nearly 35.
There is another coworkes, also teamlead, who is constantly talking BS about me, when around other people. E.g. That i am managing my Team poorly, Not taking actions or other Things.
I got the Information from 3rd parties, like my teammembers. Also the other teamlead is Setting up afterwork events and other stuff, where I and other colleagues are activly excluded.
Now to my question on how to handle this situation. I see the only feasable Option to me is quitting. Our Boss also got notified on the BS that was talked about. He only stated, its Not okay to do so and then moved on. He also takes part in all the afterwork events so I do not expect any action from him, If i would talk to him about this issue.
Is there any other way or action I could take?

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Hey everyone,
I’ve been lurking in this sub a long time. I’ve always loved dogs and have been around other peoples dogs my whole life. One month ago, I was told that somebody had a half lab half pitbull puppy that was only 10 months old, that they were about to give to the shelter or sell online. Long story short I ended up getting this guy for free from them. Took him to the vet, got his vaccines updated, and I’m getting him neutered and insured too.
In the beginning, he was a wild boy. His old owners would keep him tied up in the backyard, so he would jump on everyone and go wild when he was near people. In just three weeks of being with us, he knows not to jump on my elderly uncle or my little niece. He only jumps on me or my dad.
We taught him how to sit, stay, and how to act on walks. However, he is treat/toy motivated and often it takes repetitive commands for him to listen. When we’re on a walk, he won’t listen at all.
He also barks a lot when he’s in the backyard. If he sees us through a window or something he will bark for up to twenty minutes.
This is the first dog I’ve ever owned and I love him and I’m willing to do anything for him. I want him to be well behaved enough to listen to my mother and and stuff but it seems he only listens to me.
He also tried to run away twice
At 11 months old, can you give me tips and advice on how to go about training him properly? If anyone has any questions for me I can answer those as well
Thank you

I'm a 19 year old male who lives in the UK. I'm planning to go back to my native country for the summer holidays and spent the past few years saving up to build a holiday home. I'm nearly done with it but due to miscommunication the builders are starting working on the final aspects a month earlier than planned which has me in a bit of a pickle. Anything would be helpful

Does anyone know of any restaurants hiring servers near UNT? or suggestions on where to apply?

Hi! So I’m not a teacher, but I’m an aide in a special ed classroom in upstate NY. Not entirely sure if this is the best place to ask, but here goes anyway. Our class is a 12:1:1 class, there’s a teacher, a TA, and I’m in there for support for most of the day. My coworkers in the classroom and myself have all received an email from administration saying they want to meet with everyone who’s used a significant amount of sick/personal days. I previously spoke to this particular member of the administration after she observed me and gave me a low score for the “dependability” part of the rubric, pointing out that I don’t take time off unless I really need to, I flat out told her that I took a significant amount of days because I suffered a miscarriage in addition to being sick more than once (it’s impossible not to get sick when working with special needs kids!) She was very apologetic and assured me that everyone was scored on their attendance, and she bumped my score up for that portion. I guess all that detail wasn’t necessary for you to know, but my question is, are they allowed to ask people why they took PTO days that are part of our benefits package? Seems unprofessional to say the least. If they didn’t want us using the days they give us, then they shouldn’t have given them to us. They’re there for us if we need them, and myself and my coworkers definitely needed them, otherwise we wouldn’t have taken them. I know I’m ranting and I appreciate anyone who reads this whole thing, I just feel like I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with this crap!! 😂

(sorry if the title was word vomit)
SW: 185 CW: 160 GW: 136
28 F , 5 ft 3.75 in
Longest fast: ~72h (gallbladder surgery)
Plateau: 155-160lb for ~9 mo - since Sept 2022? When I reached size medium
Current eating window: ~1pm - 8pm

INTRO

I started IF I think sometime around (I think) August 2021. I started out slow (2-3 weeks per type) with 16:8, then 18:6, and then when comfortable, I moved towards 20:4 sometimes. No breakfast, drink black coffee, try to drink lots of water (I'm bad at it), and window started around 2-3pm and ended around 8pm. I still have dessert, way less than before, but still dessert
After a while, I learned how to listen to my body better about what I want to eat, and how much. Once I got to that point, I started allowing my eating window to be more flexible. Now I try to stop eating at 9 at the latest, occasionally it might go past on the weekend or if we're doing something social. For my first meal (lunch), I try to push it back as far as I can (3pm), but probably averages out to 1pm
EXERCISE: Definitely not helping my case, but very low. We used to play tennis and go to the gym but we come home after work and just don't want to do anything because then the day feels over by the time we get home. During work, every day, I get in a solid 30m walk every day. Also, I unfortunately work at a desk job. Weekends we like to take a walk sometimes

WHAT I'M EATING

Realistically, this isn't helping my case. But, I am eating way better than beforeLUNCH: We have a chef at work, so when I eat lunch, I try to aim for (in my mind) "half of a lunch". They have a huge variety and different menu every day, and I usually try to get a variety on a mini plate. Grilled chicken, salad, wraps, soup, turkey meatloaf, pasta, chicken tenders, rice, sausage, etc. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm eating 200 more than I expect
I probably have meat and carbs every day, and a healthy amount of broccoli every other day (praise our new air fryer). Salad not that much, but we do LOVE caesar salad (usually from a restaurant, not at home) which I know isn't very healthy
DINNER: At home, neither of us want to spend a long time cooking, like at all. Usually for dinner we'd have leftovers from eating out, or something frozen - frozen breaded fish (like costco's everything breaded cod), costco's seasoned salmon, tyson chicken, pfchangs beef and broccoli, bertolli chicken farfalle, etc. Sides could be broccoli, rice, or apple sauce. Sometimes a glass of skim milk with dinner, but usually water
DESSERT: I'm a huge chocolate addict. Usually I'll have a handful of hersehey kisses (5-8). Occasionally a small glass of sweet red wine, I also recently re-discovered chocolate covered strawberries so I made my own with very light chocolate drizzle
WEEKENDS: We like to eat 1 main meal on Sat and Sun (~2pm), and it's not skimpy. We like to eat out (pizza, burgers, etc). Also I usually get a latte on the weekend from the local coffee shop with skim & no whip (~300cal?)

STEPS TO GET OVER PLATEAU SAFELY

I looked around other threads, since this is apparently super common. I came to the conclusion that most people got over their plateau by doing a 48 to/or 72 fast
I know that if I'm not losing weight, then that almost always means I'm still eating too much. I already feel like I'm eating 1.5 meals / day with dessert and that feels bad (I'll blame America). Since this plateau has been so long, I'm starting to think that maybe there are other significant factors
I have many questions:

1. Should I go back to 20:4? (4pm - 8pm) or will that not kickstart it?
2. Should I just do 1x 48h fast and that will kick my weight loss in? Or do I need to do longer?
   1. Do I need to work up to it? (like do a 24h?) or get right into it?
   2. How can I safely prep, in detail?
   3. Should I be having tea, in addition to black coffee and water? Anything else?
   4. After an extended fast to get over the plateau, then what? Should I be slightly stricter than before? (so like 3pm - 8pm)
   5. If I do an extended fast, does it matter what day I exercise (tennis or weights)? i.e. before, after, same day
   6. If I do this, would I only do it once a week? What about the rest - like 19:5?
3. Where can I find a dumbed down explanation of the benefits of 24h fasting, 48, 72, etc?
4. Is my very low exercise that's the #1 issue? i.e. should I start playing tennis every week Tu and Thurs? Obviously I know it'll help, but I'm not sure how much of this is the issue

Specific question about an extended fast:

I understand that anything past 72h requires doctor supervision, but what are the benefits exactly, and what is the reason that fasting for 2-3 days is safe? Maybe if someone has a legitimate source I can refer to (with simple explaining please)
A lot of the time when I mention fasting for a "long time" (anything 24h+), I feel like the immediate reaction from other people is that it seems unsafe. Probably common, and most people aren't educated, but I have never been able to answer actually how it is safe in detail
For example: "not eating for 2-3 days straight with only water is what some hikers do when lost, and then they go to the hospital after being rescued". What is the explanation for this? Probably missing some crucial details?

Alright thank you for bearing through this with me, I know it was a long read and probably too rambly also. I hope that I wrote all the important info, if anyone has any questions, I'll be happy to answer. And of course, I appreciate any tips and answers to my questions!
P.S. Currently reading through this post 6 benefits of prolonged fasting 24-72+ hours

So under my left rib cage on the left shoulder in the front near the front of chest has a sharp pain it radiates to my neck if I breathe a little hard if I lay on my right side in bed it gives me a sharp pain on left under ribs near sternum. I’m 23 female and this has been persistent since yesterday afternoon any advice. While I was having my lunch all of a sudden the pain got worst and was like stabbing in my shoulde front chest area

I have always been more of a introvert, prefering to be by myself and liking my alone time. However when me and my gf started dating we pratically became inseperable. In the sense that I would be over at her place everyday after university and only leave when I need to go back home to sleep. On the oppsite side of the spectrum however, my gf has alot of friends and a active social life (compared to mine at least) but she still tries to squeeze me into her day no matter how short of time she has me for because she wants to see me everyday. I don't believe im currently codependant on her because I still appreciate the days where I dont see her (usually work or school) and have time to myself or but I feel like Im solely relying on my gf for all social interaction (apart from family and talking to an occasional online friend). At the same time however I dont really feel the need to make new friends, although I would like having more in my life currently, Im far too burnt out mentally to go out and make new friends. My gf is just as reliable on me as I am for her, apart from the occasional night out, she wants to spend every moment with when she can and even went out of her way spend entire days just to sit with me while Im doing schoolwork at my campus (long train ride after work). So its clear that the attention is equally recipocated however I still fear that I might end up relying on her too much as the relationship is still very much new (nearly 5 months). Is this unhealthy?

Hello hello! If you have read my title I'm looking for roleplayers who are into fandom roleplay! I have plots for many fandoms I'm in, and I'm happy to double up in fandom! (There is a roleplay password at the end!)
Now with that said some info about me, my style and generally other things I want people to know! I'm crooked spine, you can call me crooked! I would like to say I am a semi literate to advanced literate roleplayer who focuses mainly on being literate, I write between the two paragraphs to about two messages, three if I'm super into things, and that's over on discord! I use third person past tense in my roleplays, I'm also eighteen and use all pronouns but they/them and she/her are the ones I use the most! I'm open to lbgtq plus roleplay since I myself am part of the community!
I'll write the fandoms I want down below, characters I want you to play for me and the plot for my side of things! (Doubles are very much welcome!) If there are multiple characters I have a plot for each!
Fandoms ;

• AC Valhalla ; Ivarr the boneless, Eivor and Alfred the Great.

Plots ; Ivarr the boneless - Cwen Duke (my oc) is an anglo saxon mercenary, some believe she is a warrior of God, she herself just sees herself as doing the right thing protecting her people, at some point she ends up meeting Ivarr on the battlefield and holds her own against him so well she actually injures the viking warrior, she is taken prisoner when the Vikings eventually win the battle, and Ivarr is very interested in knowing the mighty warrior who managed to injure him.
Eivor - Cwen Duke meets the Raven clan, or more so Eivor, when she is employed by Sigurd to fill the ranks of the viking army, she is more then glad to join with very little coin since she had been slighted by one of their many enemies, not being allowed to join their fighting ranks, she meets Eivor when she is sent to retrieve them from one of their adventures, managing to save Eivor when they have an attack sprung on then by bandits.
Alfred the Great - Cwen, who wears a helmet to hide her female features, joins a royal guard of sorts to protect Alfred after an assassination attempt, after countless times of trying to get the faceless and mute Knight to speak to him it all comes to a head when another attempt is made to kill Alfred, Cwen has her helmet knocked off her head in the midst of the struggle against the assassin and it reveals that she is a woman to her precious king.

• Hogwarts Legacy ; Ominus Gaunt and Gareth Weasley.

Plots ; Ominus Gaunt - Aeleyna Harrow (my oc and my in my playthrough) is the new fifth year, she meets Ominus when she is sorted into Slytherin, the plot would follow the story, instead more drama ensues when Sebastian finds out she is living and sees Lodgok, a goblin, as a father figure to herself, which would cause trouble in the friendship with Ominus because he has been pining after her since he first met her.
Gareth Weasley - Aeleyna Harrow meets Gareth in potions class first of all, and she brings him the fwooper feather he wanted from Professor Sharp's office, they strike up a friendship easily and are usually together.

• Game of Thrones ; Petyr Baelish, Cersei Lannister, Viserys Targaryen and Jon Snow.

Plots ; Petyr Baelish - Aeleyna Stark is sent to kings landing alongside her two youngest sisters, she has to hide a pregnancy from the court as long as she can until she can come up with a good enough lie, especially for her father, but what Ned Stark knows about her is that she is the child of a Targaryen and Valaeryon, Petyr Baelish seems very interested in Aeleyna as she joins the court at Kings landing and one night finds her in the chambers far below the red keep, with three large stones, which are petrified dragon eggs which she had found hidden in a wall, now he wants to help her keep them a secret besides her pregnancy too.
Cersei Lannister - Upon meeting Aeleyna in Winterfell Cersei has been drawn to the womangrom the kindness she had shown her to keep her away from her drunken husband to offering a dance at the festivities, Cersei is now Obsessed with Aeleyna as she soon starts to notice a change about Aeleyna, a growing stomach, and the growing near silver locks that overtake the brown in her hair.
Viserys Targaryen - Aeleyna instead of resigning to a fate in Kings landing leaves Westeros, where she had been conversing with Daenerys in secret letters, Viserys is still alive and Dany stays happily married to Drogo, becoming his queen and having his children so much so that she loses the ability to sire her dragons eggs which she offers to her brother, who is now learning to be kinder, Aeleyna offers her hand in marriage to Viserys so they can rule Westeros one day together after she finds out she is a Targaryen, except she has already had two children at this point in time.
Jon Snow - After joining the battle of the bastards against her husband Ramsay, Aeleyna joins Jon to kill Ramsay, especially after all he had done to her, at one point in season one Jon and Aeleyna ended up sleeping together, at this point Aeleyna has had his child and has protected her child for the time coming up to the battle with her strengthand the fear of the dragons she had found and hatched below the red keep, which Ramsay wanted to use against Jon, and thinking that Aeleyna was going to follow his command he allowed her to join him alongside her dragons at the battle of the bastards, instead she turns her dragons against Ramsay's forces, and Ramsay himself, finally rejoining Jon after so long.

• House of the Dragon ; Daemon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen.

Plots ; Daemon Targaryen - Haela Stark is one of the children of Rhaenyra, but is the child of an unamed Stark male, she had lives most of her life in Winterfell until she joined the court when she was eighteen, Daemon never marries Rhaenyra, Haela seems to admire Daemon and has a sort of situashionship with him the same as what Rhaenyra has in the show, except she is asked to marry Aegon Targaryen and she does as her grandsire asks, who she is very close too, except she manages to have her relations with Daemon on the side during the escalation of the hostilities.
Viserys Targaryen - Annalise Lenoa Hightower is the sister to Alicent Hightower, and daughter of the hand, she joins the court as a friend to Rhaenyra and is on the side of Rhaenyra later in the war, she is asked to seduce the king by her father and does his bidding, except she genuinley falls in love with Viserys and he with her, for her fiery spirit and strength.
Aemond Targaryen - Haela Stark is a bastard through and through, when she joins the court at thirteen she however becomes quick friends with Aemond, and as they grow older their affections are clearly known, but unfortunately she is to be married off to a Lannister, which Aemond can't stand, after Viserys dies unexpectedly before she is supposed to be married, Aemond is quick to marry her besides her clear want to support Rhaenyra and her claim.
Aegon Targaryen - Haela Stark joins the court when she is thirteen, as she grows older she grows into herself, so much so Aegon wants to take her as his bride but his father won't permit it and neither does his mother, Viserys wants her to be free from marriage and Alicent sees her love for her mother as a threat, and her loyalty to the North as another threat alongside the loyalty to Rhaenyra, but Haela has obvious feelings for Aegon so much so they marry in secret, her loyalty sways toward the greens and she is accepted soon enough.
That's all the fandoms I really wanted, but I'm in many more like Starwars, Avatar (the blue one) and many other (Fallout 4 for example lmao-)
Please feel free to send me a message or comment, if you don't see a fandom here you like please feel free to ask me about any others! I'm in so many fandoms so I'm most likely in fandoms others like too! (Anime fandoms aren't included, I don't watch much anime and I've only been obsessed with one anime and that's Hetalia!)
Anyways thank you for reading, and if you read far enough my roleplay password is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!

Ive been working at a restaurant for about 3 years now in NYC . When I joined, a new manager was chosen who happened to be Thai, he had been working there for years so it made sense. He then hired his friends, who were also Thai, and about a year later one of those was made the manager of our location. I didn’t think much however it did irritate me since she had started after me. RECENTLY, one of the manager quit(we have 2) and it was decided that a new hire, that’s only been here for about 2 months was to be trained to be the next manager. There’s no other reason considering education, age, experience ect… that this person was chosen other than that they are also Thai. It’s also common knowledge amongst the rest of the servers that the work environment is hostile towards non Thai employees as we are often excluded from coversations and higher responsibilities. I understand proving racial discrimination in the workplace Is difficult so I was wondering what exactly would be necessary to pursue this if I wanted to take action as it’s apparent there’s no room for non Thai employees to move up at this workplace and there’s a very clear bias.
I would like to point out that the new hire was not hired specifically to be a manager but as another server. And I’m regards to my work ethic, I have multiple letters of recommendations from previous managers praising my work which calls into question why everyone was passed up yet again for the position.
I complained about this to another manager and they said they would talk to the regional managers but I don’t believe anything has been done or if they reported what I had said.

On mobile so sorry about format. Rant.
I just talked to my manager and she just about fired me from my job because of how I come off to other coworkers.
She said that because she has had multiple complaints of me overstepping and being rude to other (senior) staff.
She likes me and wants me to work on it but she said that there have been multiple different staff that have complained about me and my attitude.
I work in a restaurant (pub) as a server. I have over 10 yrs experience in the restaurant industry both FOH and BOH (used to be a chef).
It is a busy place so there is quite a lot of staff. I am the type of person that if there is something that needs to be done, and no one else is doing it, I do it.
This is because I have the mentality that I am working, being paid, so I should be working all the time I am there. Even if my section is busy or not I try and help all the other staff. (Which is easy because it is not my house and I get money so my brain doesn't stop me, it is the exact opposite of how the rest of my life works.)
Here is where I might come off as too blunt/rude??
If I see a dirty table, I clean it. And sometimes others don't wipe off the table good enough (patio) so I re wipe it. If I see it is still sticky or has food stuff on it I wipe it, I'm going to do my own tables anyways so might as well.
If I was a customer I would like a clean table, I thought that was a given but apparently not if it is in another section I shouldn't clean it?
And if the server is busy, and a table walks in I'm only supposed to drop off menus and not ask them anything else or tell them the specials, or give them water until their server is free?? Apparently that's poaching the table??? Even though I tell the table that their server will be right with them?
Or if the kitchen messes up a bill, I tell them and ask them to correct it. I try to always say can you or would you be able to... and none of them have seemed mad at me about anything I suggest. Or I mention that the soup of the day is a bit salty, maybe add something to fix that. Or hey this was for staff so nbd but they said no jalapenos, so you don't have to remake it but if it was a customer you would have had to, please read the whole bill. I try to mod everything that needs to so that everything is clear. But yet I'm still overstepping??
I feel like I use all my social and physical energy to help all my other coworkers and be super polite (in my head) for it to come off all wrong.?..???
There are so many rules that they say they follow but, in reality they have other unwritten rules that literally I am supposed to know when they only tell me once..
but again in a restaurant my brain goes "everything has to be clean. People eat here." So don't overlook anything, and tell staff (foh or boh) if I see anything that is a health risk (washing hands, rotating sauces FIFO, no mark's on the glasses, straightening all the tables, etc). This is the kind of place where I actively try to make everything ok in a customer's/health inspectors eyes.
Because I can't do it at all in my own house, but where it is somewhere else I go into cleaning overdrive that it comes off as rude???
Idk I'm always just trying to help, and explain why I am suggesting to clean certain things.
Or if I'm closing and there is still tasks to do (shutting down the bar or tidying up the patio at the end of the day there is literally a list of closing duties) I want to make sure they are all done for the next person the next day. And if the bartender is not doing the tasks, I'll just start doing them, because they need to be done.
Again overstepping????
I don't know. I just feel so bad because I'm trying so hard to do good and keep this job because I actually like it and it works with my school schedule. And restaurants are fun to me. Everyone seemed so nice and like they liked me, but I guess not?
Anytime there was a misunderstanding I would try to clarify or apologize, and I thought that was that, we could move forward. But no....
Thankfully the manager is going to give me another chance working more during her hours...
I don't know. Rant over.
I'm just maybe asking if anyone else feels like even though they are trying their hardest to be "good" at their job, they still come off as "bad" or "not a good fit for us". Either because of tone of voice or body language or not understanding the "unwritten down rules of the social interactions expected between coworkers "

I spend all of my daylight hours scared and alone in this musty old cellar.
It’s woeful, and I bet it smelled this bad even before everything around here turned to crap. Great. My second sentence and I’ve already resorted to swearing. When I decided I’d start this diary (five minutes ago when I got a tiny sliver of signal) I thought it would be my poetic and deeply-moving goodbye to the world. Maybe I’d write about love and loss, or maybe the splendour of nature. Then, when all is done and dusted, I’d have left something to be remembered by. As well as my corpse, of course.
This was a bad idea.
*
Okay, I’m an idiot. There’s nothing else I can do down here. I’ve rooted through every cardboard box a hundred times, organised and reorganised my supplies, I’ve even built a fort. So, I’m back. Hello. Again. God, this diary is going badly.
But there’s just enough light coming through the boards I nailed over the cellar’s tiny window to type by. So I may as well type. Stops me staring up at the window just waiting for a shadow to pass by.
Maybe I'll just write and not hit Submit. Right, where to start? Well, my name is – actually, I think I’m going to refer to myself as ‘X’. That sounds mysterious. If you’re reading this and want to know my real name, I still carry my purse. My railcard is in there and, if you really want to know who I am, go find me and fish it out. I won’t bite...
So, my name is X. I live in a little English village in the middle of nowhere. Before all this happened, I had a mum, a dad, a sister and there was a boy I liked, his name was Jonah.
*
I couldn’t think of anything else to write so I waited until I came back from my rounds. That’s the stupid name I have for when I go outside at night scrounging for stuff. Drinks are the hardest. I only trust bottles or cans, or did, and I was running out of places to search for them. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.
My leg is doing alright actually; didn’t hold me up at all. I saw Jonah too. He’s looked better, I have to say. It’s strange because this is only the second time I’ve seen him since we came here. Maybe his ears were burning.
Anyway, I found some tinned pineapple in a creepy old caravan I hadn’t searched yet. Had to bust the door open with Old Trusty – which I thought might attract some unwanted attention – but it was fine. I’m actually eating the pineapple right now, tastes good. I also found a radio in there. I already have three down here, but none of them work. Not that the caravan radio works either, all you get is static. It’s just nice to collect something. You know, to have a hobby.
*
I can tell the sun is rising. I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but I woke up after a bad dream. I know some people can remember their dreams, but I never do. I wake up and grasp at them, but I never manage a hold before they fade away. It’s like trying to pinch the corner of a wisp of smoke; the harder you try, the quicker it fades to nothing. I’m just left with a sensation, a kind of imprint which sums up the most intense part of the dream.
And a cold sweat. That’s new.
*
I’ve been through the box of photo albums I found at the back of the cellar again. I’ve looked through them a few times now, but I always notice something new.
There’s a photo of this little girl playing with a pretend guitar. I can tell it’s pretend because it doesn’t have strings, only brightly-coloured plastic dials. Kind of like My First Guitar Hero or something. The girl has dark hair and she looks a tiny bit like my sister did a million years ago. I don’t have a picture of my sister. I suppose I could go and get one from my old house, but it’s right in the middle of the village. I’m lucky I wasn’t torn to shreds the last time I went back. So, what I’ve done is put this girl’s photo in my back pocket as a substitute.
I guess I should probably write something about my real sister now. But I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.
*
Daylight is starting to fade and I’m getting ready to go out on my rounds. I always take my satchel with me, packed with useful objects. I have Old Trusty (a crowbar) which sticks out of the top for easy access, a small toolbox, a pair of heavy-duty gloves (there’s a good story about how I got those, I might write that one down later) and a hammer. I carry a penknife I found down here in my pocket, my purse and phone, and a torch in my hand.
I don’t like to use the torch because its battery is running out and there’s always the chance it might attract them. I probably shouldn’t have used it last night when I got back. Maybe I’m starting to enjoy this writing malarkey? I need to be careful with luxuries.
*
Okay, that could have gone better.
Picture the scene: I’m using Old Trusty to try and lever a kitchen window open, when one of them just walks right through the garden hedge. Seriously, straight through it. It’s not the mightiest of hedges but, still, it just appeared like it was walking through one of those Japanese paper walls. My satchel was on the ground, but I legged it anyway. I’m not stupid. I know I can go back for it tomorrow. I felt strangely naked without it on the way back here though.
Like I said before, I need to be careful with the torch so I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.
*
I slept pretty well last night; no nightmares or cold sweats. Maybe a midnight chase was just what I needed to blow away the cobwebs.
I actually woke up wondering about you. If you’re reading this, who are you? If you’re like me, living through this village nightmare, how have you managed to go this long without being killed or whatever? Maybe you’re Army or some such. Maybe you’re just some kid who’s played so many videogames that surviving all of this was already second nature to you. Or maybe you’re like me; living on borrowed time and searching for a good place to die. Maybe Future Me was brave enough to tap Submit on my diary and you're currently reading this on your phone or computer.
Here’s an idea. Maybe you can carry on this diary from wherever I left it at. God, I really hope this isn’t my last entry, although I suppose any entry might be. If you do carry the diary forwards, and I'm a corpse, maybe it will become cursed. Spooky.
*
I’ve been preparing for my next excursion.
If I know I’m going somewhere I’ll likely run into an ugly, I like to take extra precautions. And I want my satchel back. It was a present from my dad, and I know it cost him a lot of money.
So, I’m taking a pair of shears from the shelf of old tools down here. That way, if I lose Old Trusty, I’ll have a backup weapon.
If you are local, I wonder how you like to kill them? Pretty morbid question I know, but everyone around here seems to have their preferred method. The last villager I saw alive carried a pair of mini cricket bats and seemed to have bludgeoning down to an art form. He never saw me though, I was watching from a grove of trees as he killed his way along the main road near the village.
That was before I decided to stay inside during the daylight hours. We can at least see a little bit at night; ambient light and everything. They can’t though. I’ve seen them, they bump into things. It’s pretty funny to be honest. If they hear a noise, they walk in the direction of the sound, never trying to avoid any object in their path. They either bash said object out of the way, or, like that hedge, blunder right through it. Obviously bigger things stop them dead (ha!) though. If that happens, they sort of shuffle backwards and then try again a few times. Eventually – and I’ve seen this too – they just give up and stand there, waiting for something else to attract their attention.
That’s not how it works in the daytime though.
*
I think it’s about an hour before the sun sets so it’s nearly time to head out. I’m going to change my bandage. One minute.
Okay, it didn’t look that bad really. The original scratch wasn’t too deep and now the wound seems to be doing that scabbing thing I remember from normal injuries. It just doesn’t smell very good. A bit like when you walk past a bin that needs emptying.
Anyway, I’ve applied more antiseptic and redressed it. Time to go.
*
That was fun. I’m glad I had those shears with me.
I got my satchel back you’ll be happy to know. And I got inside that house I’d been trying to break into as well. More through necessity than choice in the end, but I’m pleased I did. I found more batteries! That means I can justify writing at night a bit more. In fact, the people who used to live there (I think the husband owned the local garage) were pretty well kitted out. There were a lot of tins in their cupboards, and they’d even left a shotgun. It wasn’t loaded though.
Not that I need a shotgun. I didn’t tell you this before, but I have my grandpa’s old service revolver. He always told me and my sister that it was decommissioned, but my dad apparently knew otherwise. I keep it tucked into the back of my jeans at all times. It had three bullets, one of them is gone, so only two left.
I’ll only be needing the one of course.
*
Morning. I’m feeling pretty low today. I think concentrating on getting my satchel back took my mind off things, but now I feel pretty deflated.
Surely that’s understandable? The village I knew and loved has been replaced with this sodding hell. I miss my family, my friends, TV and hot dinners and Instagram. Before all of this I was a pretty positive person. Sure, I had a bit of trouble getting up in the morning, but, once I was up, that was it. I’d meet the day’s challenges head on, try to enjoy myself as much as I could. Not today though.
Maybe if I write about Jonah I’ll cheer up. Not Jonah as he is now of course, Jonah when he was all smooth-skinned, curly-haired and bright-eyed. Now he’s like the anti-Jonah or something. His face looks like it lost a fight with an angry lobster. No, wait, I’m supposed to be writing about Jonah version one here.
He’s one of those people that I can’t remember meeting. My family has always lived around here and so there are lots of people who have just always been, if you get me. I always thought we would drunkenly get it together at a party – that’s what I’d usually do if there was a boy I liked. Classy.
*
I’ve perked up a bit. Out of sheer frustration I went upstairs (naughty, I know) and looked out of a window. Sure, I saw an ugly, wandering aimlessly as they always do, but I saw that the trees are starting to turn too. That means it’s nearly autumn, and I love autumn!
My sister and I always used to go out and kick leaves at each other in the autumn. I don’t know if it was because of her low centre of gravity, but my sister was amazing at it. She could somehow whip up a blazing whirlwind of golden-yellow and fire-red, surrounding us both in a leaf storm that I couldn’t help but flail my arms madly at. Then we’d both fall backwards into the leaves laughing, me wondering how on earth what had happened was possible. She was that good.
God, I let her down in the end.
*
I think I’ll stay away from the house with the shotgun tonight. It usually takes a day or two for a group of uglies to disperse once they’re all riled up. I could use the rest of that tinned food I suppose, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for now.
Instead, I think I’ll swing by another farmhouse I was scoping out before I decided to turn nocturnal. I never met the people who used to live there, but I remember Mum telling me they liked their privacy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me visiting now though.
Also, there’s a woodland between here and there and I might be able to find some leaves to kick about a bit. I think that would make me feel close to my sister again.
I’ll check back in later.
*
I’m still alive, but only just.
I made it through the woods just fine (only the odd leaf on the forest floor at the moment though, sadly), the trouble started at the farmhouse. I couldn’t get in – the doors and windows were barricaded – so I tried one of the outbuildings. Locked. It had a cat flap though.
My first instinct was to leave it, but then I wondered if there might be something useful inside. Lord knows what thinking about it now. I lifted the cat flap with one hand and shone the torch beam through with my other. That’s when an ugly dived at my pinkies. Luckily, it misjudged its leap and got a mouthful of plastic cat flap instead. As for me, I fell backwards onto my bum.
Next, the damn thing started bashing on the door from the inside. I don’t think it could ever have got out, but the noise attracted more uglies from out of nowhere. I only just managed to outmanoeuvre them and hightail it back into the woods.
That’s not the worst of it though. On the way back my leg started to hurt. A lot.
*
I woke up this morning and I’m walking with a limp. It’s funny, Dad had a limp when he and Mum died. He was nailing planks of wood across our windows and doors because there was no signal (as per bloody usual) and we thought that what was happening here was probably happening everywhere. It's only recently that I realised this was an isolated, local outbreak. Anyway, Dad dropped the hammer onto his toe, he always was useless at DIY. I think it was only a couple of hours after that when he and Mum were taken.
It was like a wave of death. No, not like, that’s exactly what it was. A hoard of uglies swept through the village, probably originating from the secret research facility in the woods we're not supposed to know about. My sister and I wouldn’t have had a prayer if Mum and Dad hadn’t charged down the first few that got into our house. They gave us just enough time to escape, to run away and leave them to die. My sister was screaming all the way and I had to drag her like she was four again.
She wouldn’t speak to me for a few days after that. I didn’t blame her, I hated myself too. But I would have hated myself even more if I hadn’t done what I did next. On my own, I snuck back into our house with the crowbar I found here. Then I dispatched my parents. I can’t bring myself to type it any other way. It wasn’t like in the movies, I didn’t pound their skulls into mush whilst sobbing, ‘Why?’ over and over again. I just found them, or what was left of them, forced the crowbar through each of their eye sockets, and came straight back here.
Then came the crying.
*
I haven’t told you about the heavy-duty gloves yet, have I?
After I got back from our old house, my sister started speaking to me again. A shared, day-long cry will do that for sisters. Once we felt up to it, we decided to explore the parts of the farmhouse we hadn’t searched yet. All the bedrooms were empty, only a few belongings flung about the place (I suspect the previous tenants left in a hurry). The problem came when we investigated the attic. Once we’d opened the ceiling panel in the upstairs hallway, once we’d pulled the compact staircase down, I went up. My sister stood at the top of the hatchway shining the torch beam over my shoulder. And that’s when it touched me. Terrified, I fell to my left, screaming as the thing came crashing down on top of me. I was yelling things like, ‘Shoot it!’ and, ‘Run!’ but my sister was just laughing her head off. I soon realised that my attacker was in fact a shop-window mannequin.
I think the people who previously lived here must have been arty (or into some seriously freaky stuff) because the mannequin was dressed in scarves, bandannas, ties, watches – loads of things. The rest of the attic was pretty empty but at least we got the mannequin’s gloves.
*
I’m not feeling good at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat and I’ve coughed up blood a couple of times. My leg pain is getting worse too.
I don’t think I’ll go out tonight. I have enough tins left and one of them is a Full English In A Can. Sounds pretty disgusting, but intriguing at the same time. I’ve been saving it for near the end. A sort of consolation prize.
*
There are two mattresses down here. Obviously one is mine, and the other one was my sister’s. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I don’t have a photo of her, only Guitar Girl’s. Her bed is the only thing of hers I have left. And she didn’t even sleep in it that many times.
*
The tinned Full English was vile! You’ve got to laugh though, what else can you do?
*
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of sorrow, shame and regret.
It happened as we were searching a cottage just off of the main road. We’d used Old Trusty to get inside, and I’d rushed straight into the kitchen to find the food. We’d run out more than a day before and I was famished. My sister followed me into the kitchen, a wide grin on her pretty little face because I was sitting there with an open can of beans. Then one of them came at her from behind. I must have walked right past it on my stupid way to the cupboards. It bit into her neck and blood gushed over the tiles in a torrent. As she yelled out in agony, I leapt up and implanted the crowbar right into the thing’s skull. It crumpled to the floor, but the damage was done.
‘Don’t let me lose myself.’ That was the last thing my sister whispered to me before she passed out. Her wound was much more severe than mine is, and much closer to the brain. That seems to make it quicker. I took grandpa’s revolver from behind my back and blew her brains out.
I buried her in the back garden.
*
After my sister died I went kind of crazy. I took Old Trusty out across the fields and pulverised every ugly I could find. I don’t even remember it that well, it was just, find, kill, find, kill…
We’d only been going out in daylight before then but, in my anger, I carried on through the nights. That’s how I learned about their inability to evade in darkness. Eventually, though, one got me. I found three munching on a dead cow and ran straight at them. Took out the first two easily enough, but the third managed to scratch my leg with a bloody fingernail just before I clobbered it into oblivion. Once I realised its nail had broken the skin, it was like a switch had been flicked inside me. That’s it, I’m dead too. I lost my bloodlust and came back here.
*
If none of this had happened, I think my sister would have eventually gone into medicine. I was doing okay at College but she was top of her class at school. And she had a really kind nature too. She’d never squish any bugs that got trapped in our house; she’d get a glass, scoop the little critter up and seal it inside with a book. Then she’d take it outside and release it, even if it was a wasp.
*
I’ve decided that here’s not the place. I'll hit Submit and then I’m going to do it in those woods I wrote about; consider this diary as my Note. I’ll be able to find a nice spot to sit and look at the trees, some place that's calm and peaceful. I’m going to leave the picture of Guitar Girl in this cellar, she belongs in this house. The tree leaves will remind me of my sister more than any photo ever could anyway.
I guess all that’s left to say is thank you for listening.
I know it’s possible that no one will ever read this, but that’s not really the point is it?
Love,
X

First off, huge thanks to anyone answering my question. I'm sure what I'm about to share will sound petty, but it's been affecting me for some time now, and I'm open to anything that might help me not be so bothered... or perhaps hurt is the more appropriate word.
My wife and I have been together for over 25 years, married for all but a few of those. We have 3 kids aged 15, 13, and 11. My wife chose to be a SAHM after our first was born, which I highly respected. I have a decent paying career, but in order to get ahead, I started a small side-business that nearly doubles our income - it's easily 40+ hours per week of work, but I'm able to do a lot of it from my day job, so I only end up working 6-10 hours/week from home, usually when my family is sleeping.
This year has been one of the strangest for my marriage, for a variety of reasons I won't get fully into here, but suffice to say my wife is experiencing some hormonal changes that have contributed to the strangeness. Anyway, we've adapted and things are feeling more or less normal at this point.
However, she seems to have developed a near obsession with doing things. Don't get me wrong, we've always loved doing things like travelling, going to shows, and such. But this last year has been something else. Whereas in the past, we'd schedule some sort of trip/event every 2-3 months (far more than any of our friends or family), we have something going every single month this year. We're not just talking movie dates, but multiple nights away from home. We've already done one 10 day trip across the country, we're leaving on a 16 day trip to another country in 2 weeks, and a month after that, we're heading off for another week to a different state. Sprinkled between all of that are various weekend trips.
This all sounds great, and honestly, I'd be 100% on board if it weren't for 2 main issues:

1. My wife is constantly complaining about our finances, especially with the current inflation. While she has toyed with the idea of going back to work, it's obvious she doesn't want to, which I fully support. The problem is, these trips aren't cheap, and while I work my ass off to ensure we're able to do them, her complaining makes me feel like it's not enough. She never (ever) puts it on me, I just end up feeling so confused because, in my mind, if we can't afford it, we shouldn't be doing it, yet we're doing a lot of it.
   
2. None of the trips are just my wife and me. The last time we did something with just the 2 of us (sans kids), it was meeting friends for a sort of weekend reunion back in October, so it hasn't been forever. Still, of the many things planned for this year, 4 are her with girlfriends and the rest are with the entire family.
   

I mentioned to my wife that we had no plans for just us, and she responded, "Then plan something!" I proposed an idea, but it didn't really stick, which isn't unusual - she is the type A in our marriage who enjoys managing stuff like that. I've been so busy preparing (at both jobs) for all the already scheduled trips, that I haven't had time to focus on anything else, and honestly, I need at least some time home to actually get work done.
Then last night, she tells me she learned of an event happening the weekend between 2 other upcoming trips... that she wants to go to with just our daughter.
I get it, I could be more assertive with planning stuff for us if that's what I really want. The problem I'm having with that is we've already got so much planned, I'm basically operating on full throttle as it is just to get work done. The part that hurts is that, yet again, she's looking into things that don't involve me.
I was talking with some people I work with (in passing), and one of them jokingly commented that she's going through a mid-life crisis. We are both in our 40s, so the timing makes sense, but I always thought a mid-life crisis involved spending money on unnecessary things like cars and such. Now I'm wondering if this is maybe her way of dealing with it?
tl;dr: wife can't seem to stop planning trips this year, despite constant complaints about our finances, and I'm hurt that none of the plans are just the 2 of us (waa waa, I know).

I've been playing tlou on pc and it was fine, but in a particular area(that I managed to pass) and now near the end of the game, the pc crashes with BSOD and "whea_uncorrectable_error". My pc isn't top tier(laptop acer nitro 5 with 3060 and i7-11800h) but it managed to play the game fine and keep 40/50 fps in some bad areas and 70 fps in others. https://files.catbox.moe/mxn94p.7z this is the zip with the dumps files the pc managed to create (it crashed other times but it didn't create any dump files). I hope this is enough to help me

I was reminded of this after watching emesis blue as it had kinda similar vibes. I'm pretty sure the video was in black and white and had the medic as the focus as he experienced a drug trip or hallucinations?? I think. There was a scene with a pyro in sombrero near a camp fire I believe playing a guitar and another scene wear medic pass out on a wooden platform. I'm some what ssure it isnt a saxxy entry as i have already looked through a lot of those but im not certain. sorry i dont have a lot of info and that this is such a weird thing to look for. it has just been bothering me for some reason.
also if you do know what this is and its really weird please odnt judge me i was child when i watched it.