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We are all really close, if we don’t see each other we call multiple times a day. My parents are middle class, so am I and my sister and her husband are well off. I have my own business and it’s going really well, but 7 weeks ago I found out I was pregnant, just when my husband was about to go abroad for 6 months to work. He was a huge help, almost as we were working together, and now I’m on my own and somehow managing, only asking for support when I’m completely unable to do something physically (I am in a baking business and can’t lift a 30kg cake on my own, nor should I in this condition). I built my business from nothing and all alone. My sister, on the other hand, was given everything. I am not envious, just want to put things in perspective. Her husband made her a business and she just makes appointments on her phone, while all the actual work is done by someone else. She had a baby 10 months ago, whom I adore, and they made our mother quit her job so she can stay with them 9-9 every day while paying her to do so. My parents live with my grandmother, mother’s mother, who can’t support herself. I’m helping as much as I can, so did when my father was ill, even moved back for a while so I can be there for them. What triggered this post is my parents announcement from this morning “we’re going on vacation at the end of the month with sister, BIL and the baby”. This happened once already, but I wasn’t pregnant and my husband was here with me, so we somehow managed it. And all that while making me feel like I’m not enough and always comparing my sister and me. “How do you work so much and don’t have the money to travel every two months?” (See how your sister can?!) “How much did you pay for that bag(60eur)? Sister just got new Louis Vuitton!” Until my sister had her baby, my parents had no idea what Louis Vuitton is, or traveled abroad. I’m really happy that they are able to do that now, but I don’t think they are enjoying it the way they’re supposed to. It’s like they’re traveling just because my mother could nanny, and my father could brag because they go to the most expensive hotels and restaurants. Before the baby my sister and I always travelled together and had the best of times. Now I’m not even taken into consideration. It just hurts and all I want to is to make sense of it. I’m happy with my life and my choices, but it’s hard not to feel incompetent. I have no idea how to handle all that and hope I was not too confusing.

Dear brother and sister, I hope you can spare some time to read my story and offer advice. I assure you it won't take more than 10 minutes.
​
I am a 28 year old man currently living in Jordan.
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In 2012, I completed the tenth grade but made a regrettable decision to leave school. Being a teenager, I wasn't making the best choices. I started working in various places like stores, restaurants, and factories. When I returned home, I would play online games on my computer with other players. This continued until the end of 2014.
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In February 2015, due to my addiction to online games, I became curious about game programming. I started exploring the field, including game and website programming. In 2017, I focused on learning Android application programming, which I continue to do till this day. I stopped playing games three years ago. I worked on a freelance platform for Arabic clients, developing Android applications and fixing customer app issues. I completed work for 47 clients, with 95% positive reviews, thanks to God.
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In 2019, problems entered my life when I fell ill with perfectionism. You may ask what perfectionism is. You can find information about it on YouTube in Arabic and English.
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Let me continue my story. In 2019, I fell ill with perfectionism. Whenever I tried to start a new programming project, I couldn't finish it because I wasn't satisfied with the code. I would delete the entire project and start again, hoping to write better code. But every time I failed, even though the code worked correctly, I felt it should be rewritten to appear cleaner than before.
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In 2021, I closed my account on the freelance platform because I realized my perfectionism was causing significant problems. I knew I would receive negative reviews if I continued working in that state.
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In 2022, I found an advertisement from a company seeking a programmer to develop an application. At first, I hesitated due to my perfectionism, fearing failure. However, I eventually contacted them and received the project. The deadline was two months.
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While working on the application, I procrastinated as usual, searching for perfect ways to write the code. Unfortunately, I couldn't deliver the project on time, which caused problems with the company owner. I was threatened, and I had to rewrite the code without focusing on perfection, but rather on making it functional. I finally delivered the project after three months instead of two.
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In 2023, I took a wrong path and had three illicit relationships with women who were paid for their services. The first relationship was in January 2023, the second during Ramadan, which was a grave mistake, and the third was a week ago.
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I used up all the money I earned throughout the years on these women, and now I have no money left. I only have two Jordanian dinars in my pocket. I have no more money and I'm financially ruined.
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Recently, I have been experiencing symptoms such as fever, nighttime hallucinations, muscle pain, and a sore throat. I am concerned that these could be potential indicators of a medical condition, including AIDS, which is causing me distress. Regrettably, I am unable to afford the cost of a medical test or even cover transportation expenses, which may amount to approximately 15 Jordanian dinars.
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No one in my family or relatives knows about my problems. They only see me as a failure, even the closest ones. I suffer from severe depression, and I fear things may worsen. Maybe this is divine retribution?
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I've been praying regularly since I was young, but without sincerity. Three days ago, I tried to humble myself in prayer and repent to God, but I feel like a hypocrite instead of being genuinely sincere. It feels as if my heart has died due to the many sins I've committed. I've tried desperately to repent sincerely, but to no avail.
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I had hoped to work in my field and build a family with my future beloved wife in the Gulf or America. However, I'm now filled with despair. I'm at a loss for what to do, especially with the nightmare of AIDS haunting me.
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My advice to you, my brother and sister, is to never follow the path of the devil. It only brings momentary pleasure followed by a lifetime of regret.
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I kindly request the admin not to delete this post, as it would be the greatest favor they could do for me.

I recently became the proud owner of a restaurant, and I'm excited about this new venture. As I dive into managing the operations and organizing the various aspects of running a restaurant, I've been exploring different tools to streamline my processes. One tool that caught my attention is Notion.
I've heard great things about Notion's flexibility and customization options, and I believe it could be a valuable asset for organizing my restaurant's operations, inventory, and employee management. However, I'm having trouble finding specific templates or notions designed for restaurant owners.
That's why I'm turning to the Reddit community today. I'm hoping some of you may have experience using Notion in a restaurant setting or know of any templates that could be adapted for restaurant management purposes. It could be templates for menu planning, shift scheduling, reservation tracking, recipe management, or any other relevant areas.
If you have any suggestions, recommendations, or even personal templates that you think might be useful for a restaurant owner, please share them! Your insights could help me and other restaurant owners save time, streamline our processes, and enhance our overall efficiency.
Additionally, if you have any general tips or best practices for using Notion in the restaurant industry, I'd love to hear them. Feel free to share any success stories or challenges you've encountered while implementing Notion in your own restaurant operations.

Planning a vacation is an exciting endeavor, but one of the most crucial decisions you'll make is selecting the right resort. Whether you're looking for a relaxing beach getaway or an adventurous mountain retreat, choosing the perfect resort can greatly enhance your vacation experience. In this blog, we'll provide you with ten essential tips to help you make an informed decision and select the Best Resorts in Chilika Lake for your dream vacation.
Determine your vacation goals:
Before starting your search, define what you hope to achieve from your vacation. Are you seeking relaxation, adventure, or a mix of both? Understanding your vacation goals will help you narrow down the type of resort that aligns with your desires.
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The location of the resort is key to the overall experience. Decide whether you prefer a beachfront property, a secluded mountain resort, or a bustling city center. Consider nearby attractions, accessibility, and the climate of the region to ensure it matches your preferences.
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Make a list of the amenities that are important to you. This could include a pool, spa, fitness center, on-site restaurants, kids' club, or a golf course. Look for resorts that offer the facilities and services you desire, ensuring your stay is both comfortable and enjoyable.
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Check out the types of accommodations offered by the Luxury resort near chilika lake. Do they have rooms, suites, or villas? Consider the size, layout, and features of the rooms to ensure they meet your needs. Look for recent photos and read guest reviews to get a realistic idea of the accommodations.
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Set a realistic budget for your vacation and find the Best Eco Resort in Odisha that fall within your financial range. Keep in mind that the cost may vary depending on the time of year, the location, and the level of luxury. Look for packages or special offers that can help you make the most of your budget.
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Once you've narrowed down your choices, create a shortlist of your top Best Resort in Odisha options. Compare their features, prices, locations, and amenities side by side. Consider all the factors discussed above and choose the resort that best aligns with your vacation goals and preferences.

Discover the best restaurants in Sidney at Atelier Sidney. Our restaurant provides a charming atmosphere, exceptional service, and a menu of delectable dishes. Visit our website to learn more about our offerings and experience the finest dining in Sidney.

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Hey guys some my relatives are coming to my home from foreign country. They missed the halwa Puri and wanted to eat it as there first dish in Pakistan.
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With the ever-evolving landscape of the hospitality industry, effective management strategies play a crucial role in determining the success and sustainability of hotels, restaurants, and other hospitality establishments. As customer expectations continue to rise, and technological advancements reshape the way business is conducted, it is imperative for industry professionals to adapt and embrace innovative management approaches.
This question seeks to explore the various challenges faced by hospitality industry managers and the strategies they employ to overcome them. From maintaining high-quality service standards to ensuring operational efficiency, managing diverse teams, and leveraging technology, there are numerous aspects that demand attention.
What are some key management strategies that hospitality industry professionals should adopt to thrive in today's competitive and dynamic market? How can they effectively address challenges such as customer satisfaction, employee retention, cost control, and maintaining a positive brand image? Share your insights, experiences, and best practices that contribute to successful management in the hospitality industry.

The Old Ways can rub some people wrong — especially those coming into the supernatural world fresh from this modern era of excess, privilege, and internet anonymity. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen societal changes and cultural shifts in every direction you could plot an axis for; live for nearly 3500 years as I have, and you too will come to understand that Change is the one and only constant in this world. But what our more, shall I say, exuberant (indignant, entitled, take your pick) newcomers tend to misunderstand is that Old Ways — and those of us who uphold them — don’t stand in opposition to change; we’ve just already seen all their ‘new’ ideas brought forward before, been accepted, gone stale, and get discarded for the next.
The Old Ways aren’t rules, they’re just how you come to behave once you’ve lived through a few revolutions of the cycle. They’re also not written or codified in any way, but if I had to articulate the particular tenet that seems most abhorrent to our most recent newcomers, it would be this: Respect is owed to your elders, because they’ve already damn-well earned it in the past.
The recent upheaval in the supernatural underworld wasn’t particularly upsetting, or even that surprising: some newly-minted vamp shaking things up, gathering a following, killing off a few of the established vampire lords. I don’t overlap much with the neck-biter scene, so it wasn’t very concerning to me. But as ill-luck would have it, he kept growing more famous, and thus harder to avoid hearing about.
He was turned fairly late for a vampire, in his 40s, having already led a deeply troubling life steeped in conspiracy theory, hoax, and rabbit holes into the occult. So rather than take the traditional path toward amassing strength for a vamp — which is basically just to feed regularly and get older — he instead continued his dive into the occult. To his credit, this did score him the power he needed to oppose (and depose) many of the vampire lords of London; to his detriment, it also placed him rather firmly on a collision course with me.
I’d put a handful of wards and contingencies in place out of habit, but I wasn’t particularly concerned. Vampires are about as dangerous to me as… eh… now that I think of it, I don’t have a great analogy on hand for this. There isn’t much that’s truly all that dangerous to me at all, anymore — about as dangerous as a mosquito, I guess? In that I’d be annoyed if one bit me?
Still, he did manage to surprise me, if only because I never thought he’d be stupid enough to come for me there, in the Tavern. But like I said: in this storied community, the impetuous youth flaunt or ignore the Old Ways at their own peril. And it had started as such a nice, quiet night, with me seated at my usual booth in its dimly lit, secluded corner of the restaurant.
“Here you are, darling, you just let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
The head server of the Tavern is a lovely woman, seemingly 30 to 40 years of age, who despite the many years she’s spent in England, still speaks with an accent from the American south. Her ethnic heritage is clearly from a region further south-west in Africa than my own.
“Of course, thank you Catherine,” I replied as she placed an impeccably plated salad on the table before me. It was one of my favorites at the Tavern, a delightful little number with tender bamboo shoots, and some kind of sweet and spicy mustard vinaigrette. Catherine smiled and whisked off toward another table. I folded a piece of baby spinach over an arugula leaf and pinned them to a bamboo shoot with my fork, and had just lifted them to my lips when the doors to the Tavern slammed open into the walls of the entryway. The small, decorative windows in the doors shattered on impact, showering the hostess’ podium with shards of glass.
Most groups of vampires want to be called ‘covens.’ Some of the weirder, extra culty groups prefer the term ‘hive.’ Judging by the collection of washed out, middle-aged vampire bros who sauntered in through the broken doors, I can only assume this group called themselves something extra stupid, like ‘the posse.’
He was immediately evident. His four goons looked like your average jocks who’d had neither the skill to go pro, nor the sense to plan for anything else in life, and had spent their subsequent years in disappointment of themselves and others.
“Barkeep! A round of your finest libations for the entourage of…” the fucker actually paused, as though for dramatic effect, “the Dread Prince Lestat!”
An audible groan of disgust rose from a table of Lesser Devils in the next alcove down from mine. Abyssal-speech is difficult to decipher even when there isn’t a group of demons all talking over one another, but I did manage to make out from one of them, a trickster muse by the name of Mamenoche, just before he dissolved into a cloud of flies and dispersed. The remaining devils grumbled in disappointment, but still turned with eager smiles to watch the drama unfold.
The keeper of the tavern, for his part, simply raised an eyebrow while he wiped down a freshly washed stein with a drying rag. He nodded to an empty table. “Take a seat, we’ll be right with you,” he said, and then turned away to shelve the clean glass.
The keeper is a slight man, of average height, perhaps in his early to mid 50s. He wears the same costume every day: dark brown slacks and a burgundy tweed vest over a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. His voice is rich and resonant, and though soft-spoken, he is never difficult to hear. Beyond that, I can only say that the tavern keeper looks exactly as you think he would, and do understand that I mean that literally. His features, his hair, the color of his skin: they all exist only in the eyes of the beholder. It’s part of the Glamour.
The four underlings slid chairs out from the table and plopped down with what some of my younger students have recently informed me is known as the ‘Riker maneuver.’ Lestat remained standing and circled the table while he addressed the patrons.
“Well, well, well. So this is the storied Tavern. Drinking hole for the Greats of the underworld, the movers and shakers, the true titans of the occult.” He smirked and paused for effect again. “At least now it is. Bit of a slow day before I got here, eh barkeep?”
The keeper responded with silence as he filled five elaborately crafted snifters from a small, gold-banded barrel behind the bar.
“No matter, we’ll liven things up here real soon. I’m looking for a woman — no, not you love, some other time maybe.” He gestured across the bar to a woman of simply indescribable beauty, whom he utterly failed to recognize as Titania. Lounging beside her, Oberon narrowed his eyes, but remained otherwise still.
It had been at least 150 years since the last time a patron had stepped out of line in the Tavern, and the mood of the crowd was positively electric with anticipation. The vampire, bless his shriveled little heart, clearly interpreted this as deference to his prowess.
“The woman I’m looking for is… Egyptian. An Empress. Her very name and image carved off the face of history by her own son. Probably on the masculine side, considering how she managed to pass herself off as a Pharaoh and usurp his reign for 20 years. Just a guess, but probably a 2 or 3 out of 10.”
“I’ve had kings put to death for far less impetuous horse shit than that, young man,” I said. How rude — I looked positively fabulous with a false goatee.
He turned to me with a broad smile and threw his arms wide open. “And here she is, The Empress Undying. The ‘last word’ in all things occult and arcane, so they tell me.” He approached, squinting into the gloom surrounding my dining table. “And wow, I take it all back, for a 3,000 year old mummy, you are surprisingly bang-able. You know I love a girl who plays hard to get, and let’s face it — erased from history, all that jazz — you were difficult to track down, Hatshepsut!”
“Really? I have a page on Wikipedia.”
“That’s not— I mean I prefer— that is, well, primary sources are—”
“Which, if you’d bothered reading, would have told you that Thutmose the Second was not my son, but my step son, and that at 2 years old he was not in the best position to rule when my husband passed. Not to mention it was actually his bratty son Amenhotep who ordered the whole defacing of my icons thing.” Which is also untrue. I ate my own name as part of my Ascension. But he doesn’t need to know the details of my life.
“Here’s your drinks boys,” Catherine said behind him with her typically cheerful demeanor as she set the tray of snifters down between Lestat’s posse. “Seeing as how it’s your first round at the Tavern, darlings, this one’s on the house.”
The vampires grabbed their drinks without so much as a thank you. Lestat wisely took the interruption as a reprieve from this sudden hiccup in whatever grand plan it was he had in mind for me, and retreated to the support of his minions. One of them sniffed at the drink suspiciously, while the others simply threw them back like shots and immediately grimaced. One got it down before sputtering and coughing uproariously, the other two spit it out back into their snifters.
“What is this shit?”
“That’s Ambrosia, darling,” Catherine said as she gently patted the coughing vamp on his back. “Nectar of the gods. It’s a bit of an acquired taste for sure, and most people do prefer to sip it. They say it’s ‘too much sensation’ for us lesser beings.”
“They don’t want Ambrosia, you wench,” Lestat howled, “they want blood!”
“Well I’m sorry darling, but we don’t serve blood here. You asked for a round of our ‘finest libations,’ and there’s no drink finer than Ambrosia in the Tavern, nor outside of it as I’ve ever heard. That barrel over there was handed off by Hermes himself.”
One of the vampires dashed his drink on the floor and pointed at Catherine.
“You’ve got blood, don’t you lass?”
“That will be enough.” The tavern keeper’s soft, mellifluous voice draped over the exchange like a weighted blanket. “I’ve served you drinks, and in return you have been exceedingly impolite to my establishment, my staff, and my patrons. Learn the meaning of deference before you visit next, for you will not be well-received without it. Now, leave.”
Lestat’s four hulking minions might have succumbed to the spell of the keeper’s voice had not their ring-leader, to his detriment, managed to shake out of it.
“Leave? No, we just got here,” he turned back to me, “and I’m not finished with her.”
“But I am finished with you,” I said.
“Ten,” the keeper said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar.
“The only reason I haven’t ended your miserable existence thus far,” I continued, “is out of deference to my elders. It is not my right to take your life inside the walls of this Tavern. I suppose I’ll soon be forced to do it outside, but do understand, I’ll approach that no differently than I would stepping on a scarab.”
“Nine.”
“The truth of it is, 'Dread Prince,' that you are not worth the breath spent uttering your ridiculous name.”
“Not worth your time, am I? I’ll show you what your time is worth, you decrepit bitch!”
“Eight,” the tavern keeper said, and Lestat flung an outstretched claw in his direction while hissing out a spell in medieval Latin.
Generously translated, it came out to roughly As though caught on a hook, the keeper tumbled over his bar and forward through the air. Lestat caught him by the neck and wrenched sideways, spinning the keeper’s head fully around with a loud crunching sound. Then, with the inhuman speed inherent to vampires, he hoisted the keeper’s body over his head, darted across the Tavern, and slammed him down through a table surrounded by a flock of naiads.
He turned and caught Catherine in the hypnotic gaze his kind uses to trap their prey, and strolled leisurely back over to his group. I crossed my arms.
“Sorry ‘darling,’ but I like my meals a little toasty.”
He hissed in his awful Latin again, along the lines of Catherine convulsed and shrieked, unable to move while locked in his gaze. He yanked her head to the side and made a show of sinking his fangs into her neck with a ripping motion, splattering droplets of blood across the tavern that sizzled and steamed where they landed. Her lifeless body rolled under the table as he turned his bloody face back to me.
“How do you like me now?”
I pushed my untouched salad, now flecked with Catherine’s blood, away from me on the table and let out a deep sigh.
“First, your grasp of Latin is elementary at best, you really should have practiced more before coming to see me. No, now, this is the part where you listen.”
I pinched my forefinger to the thumb to seal the air inside his lungs. He stumbled back and clutched at his neck in surprise — he wasn’t going to suffocate of course, but it’s an unpleasant feeling for sure if you haven’t yet come to the realization that you don’t actually need to breathe in undeath.
“Of course it is the intent that matters somewhat more-so than the language used — but, and I cannot stress this enough, good syntax simply never hurts. The age of your language also should not be overlooked. The older the language, the truer it is to the One Tongue of Magic, before it was fractured and the tower fell. You came with a form of Ecclesiastical Latin from around the 12th century, taught to Catholic priests. Underwhelming at best. You should have at least brought Classical Latin from the time of the Caesars, that would have shown me you were trying.
“Second, you demonstrate a lack of finesse that is simply appalling. I will commend your creativity in bringing your own spells to demonstrate. It is a key craft that many young students of the occult struggle with terribly for many years. You are also clearly capable of drawing significant power to bear, which is always a good start. However, the path to enduring success in the arcane arts isn’t power, it’s efficiency. What you did worked, but it took far more power than it needed to. I can think of a dozen ways to boil someone’s blood off the top of my head, and none of them require much more focus or power than this.”
I released my fingers, letting the air out of his lungs in an involuntary wheeze.
“Since you were turned, I suspect you’ve never met a door you couldn’t break down with brute force. But that’s only because until today, you never really went looking for one.
“Third, and most damning of the indictments against you is this: you absolutely and utterly failed to read the room, nor did you accept the un-earned grace that was offered to you. Thus ends our impromptu lesson, prince. Good luck.”
I leaned back and draped my arms across the cushions of my booth, while Lestat yanked one of his minions to their feet and stood behind him, tensing for a fight.
“Mother… fucker…” came a mutter from under Lestat’s table, as Catherine stirred and rolled over onto her side. The newly-minted vampire lord paused and looked down at her with a furrowed brow.
“Wait, was she not a human? That normally kills humans.” He looked to his cronies, who gave him an array of shrugs and uncertain mumblings.
I said in Classical Latin,
The vampire cocked his head, clearly trying and failing to work through the declensions and figure out exactly what I had said. I pointed across the room to the tavern keeper, standing up out of the wreckage of his table. Loud crunches of grinding bone sounded from his neck as he rolled his head from side to side, reforming the shattered vertebrae inside it. He spat out a mouthful of blood, then plucked a wrinkled pocket square from his vest and dabbed the corners of his lips.
“Zero,” the keeper said once his larynx had reformed enough for speech. “It’s the medical benefits of her employment package: immunity to death, disease, etc. Cuts the insurance middle-men right out of the picture, I find it’s very efficient.”
“Ah.” Lestat eyed the keeper, far too late showing the slightest hint of caution or concern. “So she’s human, but you’re not. Well then, what are you?”
“Immortal,” the Keeper replied simply, as he plucked a shard of glass out of his skull and tossed it aside. It landed with a loud tinkle in the otherwise silent room.
“That means nothing,” Prince Lestat waved his hand dismissively. “I’m immortal. Half your bloody patrons are—”
“No,” the keeper cut him off as he straightened out his vest and stepped out of the wreckage of the table. “You are ageless, thanks to the curse of undeath upon you. That is a very different thing than being immortal. Numerous vampire lords you’ve killed in the last few months would attest to this, were they not dead, no? They may not like to acknowledge it, but this is a simple fact that every entity in this establishment is keenly aware of, save for you.”
Lestat said nothing, but his body language spoke volumes for him, as he shrunk half a step backward toward the support of his underlings.
“My patrons from the Fey realms, or the Abyss? They experience death on this plane of existence as a banishment back to their own. But once there, they age and die the same as all other creatures in existence, if perhaps at a different rate than a human does. My dear employee Catherine, whom you’ve treated with such brazen disrespect, will live as long as she wishes to. But some day, be it centuries or millennia from now, she will grow tired of life, and request I terminate her contract.”
He gestured to me, seated in my quiet, dark corner, and a chill ran down my spine.
“Even the Empress Undying, whom you unwisely came looking for tonight, will only survive so long as she maintains the numerous spells and failsafes she has crafted to preserve and extend her unnatural life.”
My thoughts flickered in succession through my 5 phylacteries, painstakingly secreted away in sealed and warded caches both near and far-flung — and I watched in horror as the keeper’s eyes lifted briefly to the keystone of the stone arch over his doorway, then settled on me, and he winked.
By the gods, my cold heart would have skipped a beat were it able. How did he find it out? Or, more likely: has he simply always known?
“One day, when she has grown tired of this endless upkeep, she too will come to me for release. You see, Edwin, everything dies eventually.”
He held his hand calmly out to his side, and wisps of shadow materialized and snaked through the air into his grasp. The Dread Prince Lestat — Edwin — first shivered, then spasmed, and finally, as his entourage withdrew from him in horror, collapsed in a fit of convulsions. The shadows continued to flow into the keeper’s outstretched hand, gaining solidity and texture, until he was left holding his implement: a bowed farmer’s scythe, worn and battered, but with a keen edge that felt dizzying and somehow wrong to look upon. The keeper stepped forward.
“Everything dies, except for me.”
Been wanting to get back into writing for a while and came across this response I half-wrote last year.
Original prompt either here or here , honestly not sure which one I originally happened across anymore.

I'm a bit fixated on a certain type of drama at the moment and I'm starting to lose hope finding a new one with these specifics lol. I'm looking for very light dramas or slice-of-life ones without mean/evil characters, tragic backstory/trauma, mystery killer subplots! Some examples of this include:

• One Day Off
• Would You Like a Cup of Coffee?
• I Haven't Done My Best Yet
• Gaduri Restaurant (actually had a mean character but it was only in 1 ep)
• Desperate Mr. X
• Recipe For Farewell

For comparison, these are some dramas that I think might be suggested but have elements that aren't what I'm looking for:

• When the Weather is Fine - sad backstory and trauma, annoying friend from the past
• When the Camellia Blooms - murder subplot
• Summer Strike - murdedeath subplots, past trauma
• Hometown Cha Cha Cha - past trauma
• Dear My Room - mean "friend" from the past
• Fanletter Please - past trauma
• Diary of a Prosecutor - mean boss
• My Mister - tragic FL backstory
• My Liberation Notes - literally about the frustrations of the mundane life haha

Please don't get me wrong, I enjoyed all these dramas I listed! I'm just trying to be specific about what I'm currently looking for hehe.
Also, I don't have an MDL but here's a list I made if anybody's actually willing to look: https://i.redd.it/6un2zkclqj4b1.png
Hopefully there's a gem I haven't watched. Thank you!

Author's Note: This original work had once been created in hopes to be an original Star Wars story. The author has adapted the story to be its own original work taking place in the franchise. In particular, the author has chosen between the movies of Episode 6 and 7. Main characters, battles and other major events will either be cut out or referenced. This is not a fanfiction. All characters were created from the author aside other characters, such as the sentient species, items like blasters, were created and rightfully owned by Lucasfilm.
17 Standards Years Ago
She recalled the day when her brother was gone for good. Little Sorella was 6 years old. She and her brother, Dearthair, 12 were on their own in Kail.
Kail was Coruscant's smaller twin, on the grassland planet Miero. The town had stone adobes of shops and homes, everyone full of giddy and glow. Out to the south laid Neero, a spaceport settlement. On the occasion, some folk traveled to Neero to obtain exotic goods to sell back in Kail.
Despite the hearty prosperity of Kail, Sorella, and Dearthair were orphans. They hid in their ruined home, once full of glee and joy, now faded, cracked, and sloppy. Clothes, pots, pans, holograms, and drawers with emptiness now occupied the home.
Their parents ventured to Neero, trusting Dearthair to take care of the place while they were gone.
Later that day, an investigator visited the home to confirm that their parents, had died while protecting a kid from being taken away by traffickers.
With no parents, they were brought to the next town, Grangor. Yet, both knew, they couldn't stay there. The foster center was a heap, a dump. The caregiver didn't care about the kids trashing the place, she just wanted her money from the adoption fee to bid and brag about how she won another bet on Odupiendo racing. The children there began to form groups, making turfs and destroying each other's territory.
Not to mention, the possibility of separation. Their chances were even higher considering families of Grangor could only afford for 2 children to raise. They knew if either one of them left, they would no longer be the family they once knew before.
So by the next day, Sorella and Dearthair escaped and stayed in Kail. All it became was their next worst nightmare. The town had been ransacked by raiders. The community now had to use its funds to restore what was lost. And that meant raising prices and trips to Neero to resell exotic goods for better deals.
Despite this, they went back to their home and pondered about the food they would eat and how they could keep the place up.
At first, they begged for a bit. And when begging didn't work, one would pickpocket the distracted fool. They used any credit they acquired to quiet the rumbles in their stomachs.
Dearthair even began to ask for jobs around town but no one wanted to hire them. Not enough money to pay, one vendor noted. Had they not used the funds, there would've been a chance.
However, sometimes, if the shipments they received or the abundance of the crop were good, a few of the family friends they knew would stop by and give the siblings food. One of them, Kli, a Zeltron, tried her best to visit often, cleaning their home and cooked meals. She told them she would have offered her place but unfortunately, due to audits visiting, she did not want to risk them being taken back to foster care. (After all, for her, it was hard to lie. She hated telling a lie).
The siblings didn't mind, they appreciated the help.
They did eventually stop pickpocketing aside Dearthair who had gotten better at it. He promised to stop but he figured a few credits wouldn't hurt.
He was almost caught once at the same time as the day Sorella last saw him.
Dearthair was eyeing around a restaurant, searching for a clumsy idiot. There were a few visitors from other worlds here, whining and belching their sorrows away about some rumored war. This prompted Dearthair to steal without worry. Who would even notice? Even the bartenders would be too busy to give these drunks their drinks and people chatted about their life at tables.
As he passed by a few patrons, talk fumbled into the air. "Did you hear?" a Rodian stammered. "They're taking the children....just come in and start shooting..."
"What is the New Republic going to do about it? Nothing!" a Twi'lek snapped.
"I've heard that they use certain techniques....they don't remember who they were," an elderly man huffed.
Dearthair grumbled. None of these clients seemed to be carrying a huge sum of credits. Most looked down on their luck. Then there was...
He spotted a drunken human fool, slamming his credits on the counter. The human had on shiny boots with a blaster at his side, and gold linings on his coat toppled with a furry vest. "Moar!" he yelped. "Dang tenders....can't even affurd a proper dr...visit Kail they said, the best place to hide and..."
Dearthair slithered by the human's side, eyeing the gold before his eyes. He glimpsed around the room, checking for onlookers one last night in case anyone had the idea to look.
He stopped as he felt the human turn to him. "Hey kid...cun you tell sumone to hurry it up? I hit the jackpot today!"
"Oh, did you?" Dearthair said, raising his eyebrows.
"Sure did," the human burped. "Got me a hefty bounty and now I lay here low. I heard this place was the besst. It's gone to crap. You all this money for nothing....you might as well just take off to another place....they say a storm's brewing....so run if you an..."
"Really, huh?" Dearthair continued, now secretly roaming his hand in the human's coat pockets, scrambling for credits.
"Kid, listen to me, HIC-UP, you're better off on your own if I were you." The human sneezed and tossed his credits on the counter to the bartender. "Yo tender, gimme another one of those bluey thingies. The watchmacallit with the special."
"That's unfortunate," Dearthair hummed, now counting how many credits he had in his hand before shoving it in his pocket.
The human swirled around in his seat, causing Dearthair to flinch. He froze, terrified that he was caught. The human hadn't seen it but the way his eyes stared at the boy...it was like he knew.
He proved to be wrong as he sighed. "Kid, I know I...HI-CUP...may look like a fool but...never turn your back down on an offer. Look around...no one's coming to help you. The town got ransacked by raiders and do you get? Nothing. You have to use everything on your own to 'fix' your problems. Yet if it was Neero, oh, for sure, let's make it all pretty and shiny for the tourists. And yet they stop the imports because of the darn fear of theft."
"Well, everyone helps when they can," Dearthiar noted. "A little bit of help can go a long way."
"Yeah, but to be a man...you have to learn to be on your own. You wanna be someone's babysitter fine. They admire you more though...when you can show you can stand on your own two feet. That's what everyone wants. So guess what...if this upcoming war starts and the New Republic ain't doing a lick of Bantha dong to help....then my allegiance is to those who offer me a place."
The human glanced at his new drink sitting quietly, took one long chug, and laid his head on the counter to sleep.
Dearthair breathed in and out, full of relief. The other customers were still busy with their worries. Digging in for a few more credits, he booked out of the restaurant, heading back home.
He knocked on the door and sounded the bell, alerting Sorella he was there. She led him in and they counted the credits.
"1,000 credits," Dearthair noted. "Enough for 2 loaves of bread, some pieces of fruit, blue milk, porridge from Kali's and maybe we'll have enough to buy The Last Starfighter." He nodded to the holoprojector they had propped by the window along with a few holograms.
"Can't wait to watch that one, I heard from Yue it was a good show," Sorella said.
They went out to buy the items and returned home happily. Yet, Dearthair's mind did not venture off from the human's words. Even when watching The Last Starfighter, he kept thinking back to that old kook's speech. Were they truly doomed to be there?
Well, he knew the guy was drunk but still...his words held some truth.
Kail was surely picking its place back up but time proved other areas were now suffering. Neero was barely getting any more exotic goods, causing another economic shift, leaving Kail to sell only what they produced around them. And last of Grangor, pfff, who knows. And with words about war, kidnappings, and no one helping....it made Dearthair wonder how he could escape this.
He stared at Sorella, intentively interested in the hologram. She had become a bit of a handful now. Kli wasn't around as much considering she was preparing her shop for inspection. Sorella once had almost set the house on fire by trying to cook some food. Or that other time when she tried to take some strange "candy" from an alien, he had to swipe her away.
He was the one who had to take charge, making sure they had food, she wasn't going anywhere she shouldn't be, keep aware of who was at the door, and how to pickpocket....come to think of it, he surely could've survived by himself. Still, he knew Sorella was all that was left of the family he knew.
His parents...they would be so proud of him, doing all he could to provide for himself and his sister. Yet, there was only so much he could do now.
"Hey, Sorella?" he asked as the hologram ended, the hero fading in the blue light. "Do you ever think about...getting away from here?"
Sorella thought for a bit. "I don't know...I mean...I like it here. It can be rebuilt. We just need to get more money."
Dearthair felt his heart clenched. "Well, what if you had to get away from here....and go anywhere else?"
"Well, yeah, I would go but then I go back over here," Sorella beamed.
"What is it that you love about it here?"
"Well, how it used to be. Remember when Kli would give us those Oprair cakes, Ronen with the Swirly Tumblers, Jei let us play with the Pikies. This...is home to me. I can't imagine leaving it." Sorella's eyes glistened with tears. "And Mom...Dad..."
Dearthair swung his head. He circuited his eyes back to Sorella only, seeing her stare into space, more tears plundering down.
He felt guilty seeing her eyes like that. It would eat him up next, reminding him about his parents. It reminded him though what a baby she was...she could never keep her emotions in check. She was always so sensitive when it came to things that bothered her, like when he told her to be careful about cooking.
"Are we going to go away?"
Sorella's eyes were now on Dearthair, awaiting an answer.
Dearthair shook his head. "The only one coming and going is me," he said, patting her head. "You're staying here."
Sorella laughed. She yawned and got up, heading towards her room. "Goodnight, Dearthair," she said. "Thanks for always looking out for me, brother."
Dearthair smiled. "Of course," he said, his eyes averted away. "Anything to keep family together."
She didn't remember the exact time, but it happened at the darkest hour of the night. Sorella woke up to hearing screams, and loud wails booming through the atmosphere.
Then came the smoke. She sniffed the air, a wisp of charcoal and harsh heat filling her lungs. She coughed a little before getting up, wondering if maybe it was Dearthair this time trying to cook (he had his moments too).
Instead of the glare from the windows, she saw bright gleams of blazes erupting around the other homes.
"What?" she gasped, checking around and seeing the chaos unfold before her eyes.
A few of the homes were destroyed, either eaten alive by the pulsing inferno or shattered apart.
People were running everywhere, bellows echoing and confusion amassing.
What the hell was going on?
"Dearthair! Kail's on fire!" Sorella yelled, running to her brother's room. She went inside to see he wasn't there. "Dearthair?"
BOOM!
The house shook wildly. Sorella stumbled to keep her balance. She ducked under a table, stayed for a few minutes, and then bolted out to the door again, to peek.
She now saw one of the sources of the chaos. Before her eyes was a white armored abomination, its hideous nightmarish visor scanning around for its next victim. Behind its body, it held a giant tank and in its hands, a huge gun with a nozzle. The abomination aimed the nozzle at a home and enraptured its flames from the gun. It engulfed the house in seconds.
Sorella gulped, stepping back inside her home. Danger lurked behind her as she twirled around to see flames were now entering her home.
Sorella shrieked and scampered out.
She took no notice of the abomination known as the Flametrooper, eyeing her running away. "We have one here, near the homes," he noted.
Sorella mindlessly searched around. "Dearhair!" she cried, wondering where he was. She even looked for the adults, any familiar faces but no one stopped, they continue to run without care.
"Help!"
Sorella turned to see a kid like her now snatched up by another abomination. This one had a different visor, its helmets more delicate with design and he carried no tank, just a blaster in his hand. "That's almost all of them!" the second abomination, the Stormtrooper said, carrying the struggling kid away.
Sorella felt a verge of tears and bellows in her body but she knew she had to escape. In times of danger like this taught by Dearthair, she knew she had to run.
She darted past a couple more homes before she then saw one of the Stormtroopers takes notice of her. "Get her!"
She crawled through gaps, between walls, under trenches, anywhere to get away from the horrid monsters.
She never turned around.
Sorella made it safe once she had entered a small hole in a broken-down store, its entrance blocked by the fallen beam supports. The troopers behind her attempted to fight their way in, clashing with the beams. She ran to the back entrance and shut the door, hoping for some reason at least that would stop them.
She turned around to see another nightmare. The Stormtroopers with the kids were heading inside large vehicles. Kids all stuck together, hugging one another and crying. A few bodies laid on the ground. Some folks still fought the troopers, which unfortunately ended in their demise.
"You won't take him away from me!" a mother yelled. She was on the ground the second she jumped at a trooper.
Sorella hid behind a crate, peering from above. She spotted him.
"Dearthair?" she said, seeing a familiar figure. He was guided by two Stormtroopers, heading inside one of the large vehicles.
"No, Dearthair!" Sorella yelled.
She foolishly ran forward, only to be picked up by someone. Kli held her in her arms, rampantly charging towards a land speeder.
"No, my brother!"
"We'll find him," Kli said. "I'm sorry, Sorella, there's nothing we can do. You will die!"
"I don't care, I don't want them to take my brother!".
Sorella's eyes misted. Her vision blurred as she turned from the inferno of homes to the somber kids in vehicles and looked back to the land speeder, a few others joining them. There were the last of parents, shopkeepers, and their children.
"Hit it!" Kli said as she strapped herself and Sorella in.
"No, Dearthair!" Sorella said, turning around.
The pad to the vehicle closed up, sealing the familiar figure's fate.
"No! Turn back! Turn back!" Sorella pleaded. "Mom...Dad...brother!"
No one gave her any recognition as the land speeder surged forward, Kili holding Sorella tightly, trying to calm her.
"We have to tell everyone about this," Kli hollered. Get the New Republic, contact the other planets around us and..."
She never finished her words as a huge blast exploded behind them, sending the vehicle tumbling.
All Sorella remembered from this part was that she was flying in the air for a bit and hit the ground, knocking her to sleep.
Thanks for reading this if you made it to the end! This is my first time writing in a while (I know I probably messed up some stuff) and I'm all about improving at my craft. Critique away every little bit, just help me to know what I can do to improve!

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Uber used to be HENCE the phrase USE TO BE the best delivery company to drive for but not Soo much anymore in my opinion anyways. I've been delivering for Uber for 3+ almost 4 yrs now & in the last 6 months things have gotten bad real bad I mean the majority of offers I've been receiving are extremely low like $2-3$ there was a time when I never received an offer that low from Uber u only saw those type offers on door dash & maybe sometimes on GH. But not Uber. Not too mention the amount of offers I have been receiving where the restaurant ends up being closed or orders was picked up by another driver has increased significantly & lately Uber is not /trying not to even give the lousy $3 compensation fee for resteraunts being closed or orders were picked up by other drivers. I mean seriously they seem to be becoming one of the worst delivery companies to drive for as of late. At least that's been my experience. Anyone else out there been delivering for Uber for 1+ yrs experiencing/noticing the same or similar things or is it just me 🤷