Men s haircut poster

I have a pair of Arahi 6s Men’s that I bought 3 months ago. Since that point, I’ve noticed a lot of calf tightness causing me to stop running mid-run. It’s annoying and frankly causing me to not run as much.
Any suggestions for a different stability shoe? I over pronate so I need a stable shoe.
Thank you!

What’s the actual difference between the two? Cotton reminds me of dang Soft, and stretch just sounds the same as their sport line can someone help give me a day to day scenario of when you would pick and wear which one obviously sport is for sport but stretch?

Long time observer, first time poster.
I was born in ‘92, approximately one year after the last time a major Minnesota sports team won a championship. I’ve lived my whole life in Minnesota save for about a year on and off during the pandemic.
I’m about as passionate of a Minnesota sports fan as they come. Accounting for the few years Minnesota didn’t have a hockey team, the statistical likelihood that no Minnesota sports team has won a championship in my lifetime is about 1%. And that’s truly how it feels being a Minnesota fan. I’m a data nerd, and “for fun” I will occasionally calculate or look up the Minnesota team’s odds of winning. Regularly, I will see 85% near certainty scenarios dwindle to 50, then 30, then 10, then a loss.
I’ve been a Wolves fan since the Billups days and have suffered through the dark days of Randy Foye and Ricky Davis watching most of their games through the whole thing.
A few quick reactions from games 3 & 4 -
1) I couldn’t be more happy none of our boys will be receiving trophies before tomorrow’s tip off
2) as a recent new dad of two, I’m truly happy Rudy had the privilege to be present for the birth of his son. But that’s what it is, a privilege. And after missing game 2, he owes it to his teammates to bring it in a big way. And he hasn’t
3) the coach tearing his knee is so unprecedented in the most Minnesota precedented way
4) the league breaking precedence on suspension criteria is equally “Minnesota precedented”
5) I’m rooting for KAT, he’s trying to be Ant’s equal. I empathize for him and wanting to ball out for his mom on Mother’s Day, but he played out of his mind (not in a good way). KAT needs to be the KAT we’ve seen him be at his best
6) ANT being in Minnesota is the most unprecedented thing of all. This team, franchise, fan base, community needs to rally around the special gift that he is to this community
And I’m here to say despite all the precedented unpresidence, FUCK IT! Fuck the Drake in Kentucky blue memes, saying the fans don’t influence the outcomes. If you’re a wolves fan and you’re invested, put all the fuck it vibes you have at your disposal into the ether. Fuck the statistics! If you’re a religious person, don’t pray for this because it’s important. Pray for this because it’s fun and Minnesota deserves it.
We’re winning this! Herb Brooks style, it’s our time! Wolves Back are the only two words I understand!

You’ll never see this & honestly I’m alright with that, even if you do happen to stumble across this maybe you’ll never know it’s for you then again maybe just maybe you’ll think about it all again just for a second and that’s good enough for me.
I was never going to be able to be what you needed even though you were everything I needed & more and as much as it hurts to admit that was probably our main issue. Mentally I could never be stable enough to be able to give you the love you deserve and I wasn’t vocal enough about my mental health not even to you, I never have been. Some can say that’s the way society’s built men to be if that’s the reason for me doing so? I’m not sure it’s just normality to me, ingrained in my brain that yeah I’m fallen apart on the inside but I just got to keep going as it’s all I’ve ever known. It’s been what just under a year since we went our separate ways, it was your decision and at that time I didn’t understand it, I knew towards the end it wasn’t how it used to be but things inside my head just got so much worse than they were - nothing to do with you but everything else stacked up & I couldn’t find a way to deal with it. I’d come home you’d be asleep already and by the morning I didn’t want to unload on you as I knew you weren’t doing great either. I know I’ll never love someone the way I love you, I won’t say loved as yeah it might not be the same intensity anymore but I don’t think it’ll ever leave and I’m okay with that.
I’ve heard through from friends you’re with someone new now & deep down yeah I hate it, I hate the fact it isn’t me. All I hope is that they’ll be better than I could be & give you what you truly deserve.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one you needed I really tried

I got a knock on the door and two young fellas from LDS are there to greet me. Just as soon as I say hi the young man immediately ask me “Do you want to go to church tomorrow with us?” Huh? I was like ugh no. He then just immediately ask me “ well is there anyone else this street that may want to “ haha ugh I have no idea I told him. Most are Catholic on this side of town. They just said oh okay and walked off lol!! The other young man didn’t say a word. So I have had missionaries come to me in the past and the approach was so much different. What’s happening with LDS now? The you men don’t even want to try anymore in spreading their testimonies.

So I have two good friends who each have a girlfriend or wife and they seem to both be attracted to me (not in a way that they would cheat on their men but in a physical/emotional sense they seem to be attracted to me) and their not the first. they both seem to want to get involved in my love life and are almost constantly complimenting me on my Looks or innocuous small things i do. One of them is someone I would consider to be a good friend, we talk and make inside jokes about her man who is one of my best friends but sometimes she does or says things while we are all together that noticeably make my bro uncomfortable he never says anything but I see him react and I feel bad because he is my bro and I want to be a good friend but I feel like if I wasn’t there he wouldn’t feel bad. And the other friend’s wife always says that she can’t wait for me to fuck someone (I’m waiting till marriage) so I can talk about it with her (and other things that make me uncomfortable) another one was she rated me 1-10 and then asked me to rate her, I try to just laugh it off but again I feel bad because I see my boy being uncomfortable. So I don’t know should I just step back for a while and hope they loose interest or am I over thinking and I should just relax.

Hello! I am a woman who is very, very tall. I am 6’4. I love working with children and I love to dress up. I was wondering if being a party princess is an option for me or if I can’t simply due to my height being too tall for any of the princesses.
I have a lot of experience working with children. I worked at a daycare for many years in the infant, 2s room, 3s room, and preschool room. I also have been a painting teacher for children ages preschool-6th grade. I have taught children’s painting birthday parties. I have babysat as well.
I am very experienced with makeup as well. I love to dress up. The only possible problem is my height. I am way taller than most women and even most men.

So I’ve been aware for a while now that I was abused/molested since I was young. I vividly remember being aroused from a very young age, and I remember being aroused around certain family members. I also have some very specific fantasies, that all involve me being dominated over and being helpless. I have a very specific type of men I’m attracted to. All this to say I only have like 2 memories of the abuse, and one isint even the full memory, I just remember being erect right next to my older cousin… but maybe I was just attracted to him and turned on? I would like to know how I can unlock these repressed memories, it’s like the more I try to think of them, the less I can remember. Like I’d like to know why since a young age, I have been aroused by men’s bare feet… or why I’ve always been aroused by the thought of a man as a giant, squashing me.

I’m a transfem/trans woman who generally presents as a binary female (occasionally I present as a somewhat fem enby, specifically trying to give off something like very butch, but still woman-leaning vibes). I hate to admit this, but deep down I feel an immense jealousy towards AFAB people. I feel like I have this victimhood complex inside of me where it feels like no matter how an AFAB person decides to live their life, society always gives them a better deal than it does a trans woman. Born AFAB and cis? Awesome - then you’re a cis woman, and you get treated better than a trans woman. Born AFAB and trans? Great: take T at binary levels for more than 5 years, and odds are society and people in your day-to-day life are going to think of you and treat you as a cis man - again, you’ll get treated better than a trans woman. “But what about the transmasc invisibility issue?” I can already hear someone saying. I fucking wish I was invisible. I wish I didn’t cringe every time I went running by a woman in the park when it’s getting dark, because I’m filled with dread at the thought of whether she’ll be able to even tell that I’m a trans woman or not because of my frame (I have a fem-passing face, post-FFS, but a very tall 6’2’’ non-passing body with broad shoulders, which makes me a basically incredibly visible as transfem, except in the dark if someone can’t get a good look at my face). Every time, my mind spirals into thoughts of how she must be afraid of me, how I need to turn away and divert my path so I don’t scare her. I try to avoid women at night at all costs, even though my tall skeleton doesn’t afford me anything in a fight against a man - I keep my hormones at a binary female level, am not at all muscular, and would be easily clockable as a trans woman by any man who saw my face - and they could easily overpower me. I’m so sick and tired of feeling like trans women have to carry the unique burden of never feeling safe around anyone regardless of their gender. I don’t feel emotionally safe around cis women because I fear making them uncomfortable or fearful of me. And I don’t feel physically safe around men because they are physically stronger than me. I hate that I harbor these feelings of resentment inside, and I would never say any of these things to anyone face-to-face. I’ve been going to therapy for over a year now to try to deconstruct things, and I desperately want to stop feeling this horrible way. I hope I can stop feeling like this.

Ordered size 38 women, but they sent size 38 men’s. $125 shipped. Here are photos
PayPal invoice only, but accept Venmo, Zelle & Cashapp.

Lol ok so I’m sure everybody here knows someone like this: You know those guys, that are father to many kids, that just leaves the house and drink all the money and act like the worst fucking idiots possible? I was thinking: “Damn why do women put up and accept these assholes in their lives?? Why do women accept unacceptable behavior from men? Why??!?!” But then I’m like .. you know maybe because I only see that part of society but maybe there is as much assholes mother and women? Let’s talk about all that. 1. Why do we accept and tolerate asshole behavior in our personnal lives? 2. Is there the opposite thing happening too, like men accepting terrible women in their lives, as much as there is shitty man?

How do you process your s/o looking at other women?
I’ve always envied women who don’t bat an eye at their man looking at another woman. I understand that men think differently and the women they look at don’t mean anything to them. I know I can look at an attractive man and it has no meaning to me, but for some reason when I see my boyfriend look at the cocktail waitress or another beautiful girl I can’t handle the way it makes me feel. We’ve had 1 or 2 conversations regarding this and I explain that I see married men check me out regularly and I find it so repulsive and more so humiliating for their wives. Even so, I’ve seen him look maybe without even realizing.
For more context, he’s not a words of affirmation type of person. I know he loves me very much and he shows me this with his actions but he does not compliment me. I want to say it’s been over a year since he said I look pretty? Again, something I’ve addressed many times but I think it contributes to how I feel about him giving other physically attractive women attention. I’m generally a very confident person and this side of me wasn’t brought out until maybe 2 years into our relationship. It causes me to resent him, not want to go out, and seek validation from others. I feel a little humiliated asking for advice on this but I’d love some insight on other users mindsets or how I should think about it? Mens opinions are also valued! I feel like I need another perspective.

Hello Reddit,
I am looking for an artist whose style fits within the range of these 4 artists that I like but cannot commission due to issues such as budget, availability, etc:
https://www.littlepaperforest.com/
https://www.instagram.com/laserlazuli/?hl=en
https://www.jim-tierney.com/illustration-1
https://madsberg.dk/
I am wanting the piece to be a digital poster that I can use on a blog (that I will create specifically to showcase this image and explain its symbolism) and that I can also print out for personal use. I am wanting it to be done in 400 dpi for printing purposes.
My design for this piece is a little eclectic and unique, but an important disclaimer about it is that it will include explicitly religious imagery.
In particular, Jesus of Nazareth, Gautama Buddha, Socrates, and Confucius will be depicted. There will also be icons representing various world faiths depicted alongside the Bible, as well as a stack of books representing humanity’s accumulated knowledge.
Other than this, the poster will incorporate imagery that references Frank Herbert’s iconic Dune saga, the popular FromSoftware video game Elden Ring, and some of my own personal symbolism.
The image will have 2 central figures with the greatest amount of detail, 4 figures with a little less detail, 2 solid-color figures, and a crowd of 40-50 smaller least-detailed figures representing diverse peoples of the world.
I have reference images for the different parts of the image, as well as a rough sketch/collage of how I want the entire thing to look, and I will share these with any artist who is interested in this project.
I am expecting this piece to be priced at around $100 - $300 USD, give or take a couple hundred. I can be flexible.
Please let me know as soon as possible under this post if you think that you’re up to this challenge and are interested in taking it on!
Best wishes to everyone :)

I'll try to keep this brief but I have a lot to say and I tend to ramble. I (20F but 19 at the time) have been broken up with my ex (20F) for almost a year now. When we first ended things I felt SO MUCH RELIEF I was in almost a euphoric state for the first week or two. I knew she was extremely toxic but didn't care to question it because I was just so happy to never have to see or speak to her again but quickly that wore off and I realized just how terribly she treated me. In the past month or two it's starting to get to me again after a few conversations with close friends where I told the stories of things she did to me, hoping to have a laugh at the absurdity but underneath realizing just how much she put me through. I still can't accept that it was truly mental or emotional or verbal etc. abuse. I guess I just want somebody to tell me if I'm victimizing myself, or if my mental illness is making me delusional if I was the real abuser the whole time, or if we were both toxic (all her words). I just wanna list off some of the things she did, partially for myself to lay it all out and partially to ask everyone here if I'm the problem or if she was just toxic w/o being "abusive". I'm avoiding specific details because I don't want anyone I know to stumble upon this and know it's me so apologies if theres little context but here it is:

• biggest one on the top: when we first got together I had just gotten out of a relationship and was struggling metally. I had been in therapy for a while before we met and started mood stablizers soon after we were together. she constantly would use this against me to tell me i'm crazy, that my mental illness was ruining our relationship, that i was "a disease", that I was just like her crazy ex etc.
  
• another huge one! she insisted on extravagant expensive gifts then later expected unquestioned obedience because of it. when i caught on to this and began denying gifts it would cause arguments
  
  • i identified as bisexual at the time which she constantly used against me. if we were ever in the presence of men, even if i didnt interact with them, she would get mad and either give me the silent treatment or start an argument about it. when i expressed multiple times that I may not be attracted to men she would get angry because it proved to her how "easily impressionable" i am
  • constant lies. about things my friends or even my mom had said allegedly about me (they never did), about things that she had or hadn't done, she would even tell lies to my friends and mother about things that I had allegedly said about them (i never did) even right in front of me but she was so convincing to everyone around us that I seemed like the liar no matter how much i denied or explained
  • insults! mainly about me but also my friends and family
  • always wanting a reaction so that she could then point to me as an abuser. e.g: screaming at me and throwing things until i removed myself into a seperate room where she followed me and recorded me without my knowlege as she taunted me until I yelled at her to leave me alone, then played back the recording to show me how poorly i talk her
• she told me so many times that my majors were not as difficult or as important and I "couldn't possibly understand" how much more effort and intellect it took for what she studied (we're both in college and I'm literally a double major!! if that matters)
  
  • told me she was embarrassed of me because my interests and hobbies weren't "resume-worthy"
  • belittled my morals and values, the things i thought were important whether they were big things or small, and my plans for the future
  • controlling to an INTENSE degree. e.g: getting upset with me because i wouldn't let HER floss MY teeth or threatening to break up with me because I wouldn't hide my stuffed animals in the closet when she came over
  • laughed and called me things like pathetic unstable when i would try to tell her certain things she said and did were hurting me. was just all around very cruel and mericless with her words to the point where I seriously think she was nearly incapable of empathy
  • she told me things about myself as if they were fact. this one is hard to explain but for instance: "you just let your s/o's walk all over you" or "youre just not a hard worker". it was said so causally and matter of factly that it wasn't even an insult just an absolute truth she had observed
  • things she admitted to before we broke up: when i opened up to her about my ex and things i went through as a child she later admitted that she was happy that i was "weak" and would tolerate poor treatment. she admitted that she would poke and taunt and yell her own mother until she got the reaction she wanted so that she point out "how crazy she was acting". she admitted to reading my journal the first time she came over to see the excerpts of my ex and, again, figure out just how badly she could treat me.
  • I do want to say that she never actually hit me or physically assualted me but she would often imitate in the moment that she was about to (partially because she wanted to hit me, and partially because she knew it would trigger me because I was abused as a child, again she admitted this part)
  • in arguments: deflected, shifted blame, gaslit, yelled, threw things, hit nearby objects, etc. these arguments would go in circles for hours with the topics ending up miles away from what the intital point was. things typically went from "that didnt happen" to "it did happen but i didnt mean it" to "i meant it but you deserved it". even when I gave in that wasn't enough, she would just leave and ignore me for a day or two
  • she often wouln't take accountability and instead would try to psychoanalyze why what she did upset me, blaming it on my childhood or my ex but never on her actions
  • profuse apologies afterwards. she always promised to stop and to go to therapy but that never happened. somehow she was able to do this without ever actually acknowleging that what she did was wrong
  • i won't go into detail but when it came to bedroom activites there were a few rare times when consent was ... unclear. especially near the end when she was often insistent that I would drink more (she was sober)
  • when i caught on to these patterns by calling her out for fake apologies, gaslighting, lying, manipulation, not taking the bait by reacting, sticking to my boundaries, not letting her deflect in arguments etc. she would throw full temper tantrums. screaming crying throwing herself on the ground type of tantrums. I was so drained at that point that all i could do was just sit and watch and wait for her to stop
  • her poor mom had gotten it for 20 years before me. she told me multiple times to get out of the relationship but i never listened. I hope shes doing well but i'm afraid that checking up on her might invite my ex back into my life

i'm sure that when i post this i'll think of a million more things but this is what i could think of off the top of my head sorry its so long. Writing this all out its so clear that this wasnt normal but i still constantly question whether im just erasing my own hand in it, refusing to acknowlege all the harmful things i did or how i somehow forced her to be this way, if i truly am just so delusional that i made all of this up because i want to be a victim, if i was the one who abused her first, if its my fault because i stayed and let it happen. and if none of those things are true then what do i do from here? I'm moved on and so insanely happy to be single and never have to interact with her again but i'm realizing more and more how much it has affected me.
tldr: my ex gf fits a ton of the criteria for an abuser but i still question whether i am making it up and/or if im the actual abuser just manipulating the situation for my own gain. if i'm not the abuser then how do i accept it and not be affected by it anymore?

I live in a town surrounded by fields and I drive a sports car. One of my coping skills is driving through the countryside with loud music, especially during sunset times or driving through main streets when it’s at night. I love speed so when streets are empty, long and not many stops- I speed! I’ve gone over 100+ miles! One day I started to notice cars following me around. I kept noticing the same cars over and over, license plates started to look familiar and every where I’d make a stop (ex: mall, grocery stores, etc.) I would notice a BUNCH of guys be in the same places and stare at me.
I brushed it off and told myself I was overreacting. Weeks passed and I started to notice more and more people staring at me EVERYWHERE I went! Now it was including women, but some women would make it very obvious that they didn’t like me and I had no clue who these women were.
One day I had a problem with my car and went to the car shop. It’s a local business that I’ve been going to for years now and the owner and me always do small talk but I’ve never told him how much I love speed. On this particular occasion the owner made comments telling me he didn’t know that I was a racer and that I don’t look like the kind of girls that race and laughed about it. I was actually shocked and just laughed with him and he went back about his business and I went in the waiting room. I’m assuming his mechanics told him this because when I came on this day the mechanics payed more attention to me than usual. As in kept coming in the waiting room to fill up their water bottles and a random cleaning of door handles. This day I took it as confirmation that I was right. I was spotted by men, followed by men and I’m assuming the women in their lives became aware of me.
I know this sounds super crazy (reason why I haven’t really told anyone recently of how insane it’s gotten) but it is honestly getting out of hand. I started to notice people following me to and from my job. Both men and women literally CHASING me/tailgating me, causing me fear. And I know a lot of these people know where I live.
I’m a low income person who lives in a rough neighborhood and my home is not the best looking, so one day I was running errands and when I came back there was two grocery bags filled with new can food in my front yard. I also woke up one day with one of my tires without a tire cap, low on air and a BIG human spit next to my tire.
Lately I’ve been noticing men from all social classes being extra interested in me (I can tell them apart by how they carry themselves/talk/dress or what car they drive) as well as women, but with the women they’re either really kind or extra mean to me.
In the beginning, every time I’d bring it up with a friend or family member, they’d think I’m going nuts so I stopped bringing it up and hardly speak about it.
I do have one friend who’s been very supportive but I don’t really hang out with her much so I think it’s easier for her to just give me advice. We talked about contacting police but I’m scared that they too won’t believe me and find it crazy.
What other options do I have? I’m very scared and have no evidence to show police what’s happening to me.

Am gonna be honest I always wanted to have a Moroccan partner but it seems to be impossible it’s hard to find a match since i don’t practice am no atheist or agnostic I just don’t think about it so for context I never had sexual relationships but to test the guys I go out with keep in mind those are very niche people like me I say I already had one before they seem fine and they say it’s normal at beginning but when we argued or smt they use it as an insult one of those guys even had parents that already had several relationships before being married and he still degraded and called me bmt9*** .do you think this is a fair test?bc I don’t wanna be with someone who think am a lollipop lol and you know what frustrates me the most I get the best out of Moroccan men when I lie and play the religious girl who have nothing going out with her but being dumb. Unfortunately I can’t change my core beliefs for someone so I start dating a Swiss men he’s great but I feel so disconnected with him it doesn’t feel how both choices seems inconvenient for me I don’t know if dating outside my culture is the answer ?

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Hi, first time posting.. not sure I’m doing this right but just need some actual perspective. My MiL and I have a fraught history, it’s long but for a long time I thought I was crazy/angry/abusive and then I realized she was pushing all the right buttons on purpose to trigger me and make me look like the crazy one. I did a lot of research on Reddit especially about grey rocking and DARVO and I have a therapist etc. and it made me realize I was playing right into her hands somehow. My husband thinks my therapist just tells me what I want to hear. I’m not without blame because for a long time I was depressed and I’ve realized the pressure from his family contributed to that. I am feeling a lot better these days. Anyway Mother’s Day came and went and I was so happy, my husband went all out and planned a whole weekend, he got me these gorgeous flowers from a special spot in our city and I feel so gross I actually bragged about them to others. I can’t believe I bragged. It’s embarrassing. Well his mom was texting him and turns out he got her a very similar bouquet. He says it was from a different place and the similarities were unintentional. He’s very mad I looked at his phone as he should be, we agreed I’m too obsessed with monitoring his communication with her and he’s changed his passcode so I can’t do it anymore. I know that’s bad so I’m wondering if I am abusive/crazy. Is the bouquet not a big deal? Why do I feel like it is? He got us both the same flowers last year too. And one Christmas I really wanted an Apple Watch and he decided that was the perfect gift for his mom too. In fact she almost wanted the same color combination as me but he convinced her not to. She freaks out if she doesn’t get the full treatment on Mother’s Day from him. Like shouldn’t her husband be buying her such expensive beautiful flowers? I am seriously asking because I don’t know any other men who do that for their mom. He says I ruined a perfect weekend and I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with what he does for his mom. Like he should be able to celebrate her without me caring so much. Am I the justNo? I anticipate these responses are going to be hard to hear but I truly need to know. I just had another baby recently so maybe i’m not myself yet. I don’t want to isolate him from his mom but I am so angry at her still.

Huge shout out to & for helping with Brainstorming and Co-Writing this.
As always, all credits for the original Nature of Predators and it's content goes to Space Paladin15, thank him for allowing artist and writers to use his original work of art for their own uses.
Gaian Ref Sheet-Here, Done by the artist
As well as a *Huge* thank you for Julian Skys for filling in for the editor for this chapter. I'll post a comment as to why I haven't been posting too much, safe to say though, kept ya waiting huh?
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[Subject Memory Transcription: Rux Limpbut, Venlil News Anchor and TV Show Host]
Date [Standardized Galactic(?) Time]:August 1st, 2136
Now I'm regretting not taking that transfer last week. This just keeps getting better.
I was in my car outside of the Network’s station. I was at my wits end yesterday and was trying my damnedest *not* to freak out on air. Now? Now I had the pleasure of my network telling me they needed me to come in way early to report on some breaking news. Just as I was about to leave for Solgaliks sake!
I took a small sip of the “coffee”. Now this was a blessing, coffeehouses on Gaia were open paw around, no matter what. I was giving a small prayer to those “ancestors” for their love of anything strong. Well, anything strong that wasn't alcohol. They could stomach one drink or two but after that? They were out.
Slurrrrrp
I let out a relieved sigh as the warm liquid flowed down my maw, the reward of caffeine soon following after this. Hopefully in time for the recording. With that I opened the door, grabbing my briefcase as I greedily drank the rest of the coffee as I approached the wide doors of the Networks station.
They creaked a little as they always did as I appeared in the doorway, a sleepy, overworked ghost. I tossed the coffee cup into the trashcan by the door as I nodded over the after work plans that I had to either postpone, or completely not do.
No bar time, going to be too tired. Not going to have enough time to do more digging in what that Farsulian diplomat released, even after it's been nearly two months. Brahk. Still need to be ready for the shift tomorrow-
“Rux?” The front desk secretary pulled me up and out of my thoughts as I blinked a couple of times, my ears raising as one of my eyes focused on her, a bit frizzled from the overtime I was clocking at the moment.
“Hm? Oh. Hey Liakal, caught me off guard almost as bad as the padcall I got. What's up?” I rubbed my eye as I fully focused on her, making my way over to her.
“Well, whenever you're ready for them they'll give you all you need, apparently, when you get into the studio. What they told me is uh, it's not a pleasant amount of news.” She nervously played with her claws and her headset, her lips quivering a bit.
“That bad? Speh. What about that uh, guest? She gets off-”
“O-oh! Mrs Tarva. She got off the planet easily. I can't say anything else though Rux. They said whatever they have to tell is very, very pertinent not to be let loose until you broadcast it… sorry Rux.”
I patted the top of the semi circle desk that Liakal was sat into, before giving her a quick, albeit small smile with a finger gun before I quickly deflated. It was that bad. With a nod from me I departed into the hallway to the left of the front desk, approaching one of the elevators.
A button press, a chime and the feeling of gravity and anxiousness about to make me hurl later, I was on the floor with the studios. I retraced the steps I had taken only claws before to mine. The green sign saying “Predator Problems” told me I hadn't failed as usual. Something had to be done with our program and segment name, if for nothing else there was apparently much more juicy stuff to talk about.
Opening the door, I expected the hustling and scrambling of the cameramen, the lighting crew, audio specialists. But nothing except a small huddled group of uniformed men. Brahk, I was hoping this wasn't the case but I was never that lucky. I resigned myself to fate as the group finally paid attention to me, and the door clicking and shutting behind me.
“Mr. Rux. Please come over here and sit. You're all good, we just need to go over what we need you to announce in this upcoming impromptu broadcast.” Why the hell were the Gaians on Prime? Wait no. That's not the problem. Why are officers from their military here? Oh stars.
However I could feel my body coming towards the oval shaped table. Eventually knocking into a chair and pulling it out, resting my briefcase onto the ground and taking a seat, pulling up to the desk. I rested my paws on it as I gave a look to the group assembled around it.
All were wearing roughly the same uniform, their fur patterns one of the only differing things between them. Aside from the one at the end of the table. They wore a green beret atop their head, nestled in between the horns that adorned it. They cleared their throat and slid a small packet of papers towards me, startling me a tiny bit.
“While I wish to be polite and respectful, there's simply no way to say this without being blunt. Sole Speaker Jikem is dead. With the current atmosphere on Gaia we thought it'd be best to announce the formation of an emergency government and a leader to head it. All of which has been done in a roundabout manner so as to not alert any radicals or terrorists.”
I had only taken a cursory glance at the front of the small packet before that bombshell of an information was dropped onto me nonchalantly. My paw was halfway to the front page to turn it before my gaze looked up at the Gaian at the end of the oval table who had done so.
“What? Sorry can you-”
“Rux. Come on, you know what I said. Now, I know it isn't everypaw that you get to report on the death of a head of state, let alone be the first one to do so. I'll most certainly give you that. So, we'll give you some time alone…well mostly, to get acquainted with the packet and once you and your crew are roaring to go we'll release the news to the Commonwealth.”
I took a small lookover of the second page but had to pause for a short moment again as I took it in. Yes, yes I did have some questions. Half from the large info dropped on me and the other half that I was now reading with my very own eyes now.
Before they could fully get up I had worked up the courage to get a short clearing of the throat and read out of the lines in the packet out aloud after I had decided it would be better to ask now rather than after. “In conjunction with recent attacks the Armed forces has decided to-” I put down the packet in its entirety now.
“What in the stars could you possibly mean by “safeguarding” democracy? This just seems to be some type of justification for a military takeover. I mean, who's going to fall for this?”
The chairs of the small clique of officers seem to find themselves filled once more as they returned to their positions, most of them now gazing between me, some random crew member scurrying near me and the head honcho with the green beret.
The intensity of the stare of the Gaian at the opposite end of the table seemed to intensify, seemingly his gaze looking through me. “Mr. Rux, I can assure you any such speculation to that matter and that, frankly, justified if albeit imaginary fear is going to be the last thing people on Gaia are going to worry about. Alright?”
I anxiously nodded back, sighing. “L-look I'm just-”
The Bereted officer seemed to nod while holding up his paw, my line of reasoning and thought being stopped by the intrusion. “Worried, you ancestors are always worried. It's why we're here, yes? Anything too dangerous or otherwise unsafe we've always volunteered for so as to save our more cultured self from such. Think about this announcement like that. A warning and an update from our side of the Commonwealth about current affairs, nothing more, nothing less.”
With that it seemed settled for the time being, as the small clique once again rose, and this time was actually able to depart to the booth that overlooked the studio, keeping what I was sure to guess a keen pair of eyes to observe anything.
I settled into my seat more as I gave the small packet a read. It was general stuff as of this point when it came to announcements. Why it's happening, what happened in more details, what they planned to do in the upcoming future, all that juicy stuff. Overall a very plain, if very informative script to go by. Still, being the first to announce the death of a head of state via “Unnatural Causes” would make even some of the most resolved Gaians a bit jumpy, yes?
Once I finally gave the entirety of the packet a quick read over I sat it down giving a glance to my, by now, very familiar set that we used for “Predator Problems”, the entire reason for why I had started it had been to educate and warn people about what to do with predators and the like. Now I was going to have to educate them, apparently, about the fact that our “brothers” in species so to speak were having a bit of topsy-turvy time on their capital planet. Now I was kinda hoping I was one of the more conspiracy theorist nut jobs just so I didn't have to get contacted.
Resigning myself to fate, and the fact that apparently I of all Vens was the most level headed to announce this, I looked over the studio, eventually finding the small group of uniformed men again. I got up and out of the chair as I made my way over to them, flicking my tail into a questioning sign as I did so, my approaching presence quickly noticed.
“Seems like you've got some questions, you read the packet though yeah?” One of them said, I simply signaled a yes with my ears to respond.
“So, is this immediately being aired? Or is it being aired later on tomorrow-well, this paw? Should it be the first thing or the last thing or is it the only thing I'm doing for this one?” With these questions the small clique seemed to talk in-between themselves, small glances were made in my general direction, they seemed to come to some type of conclusion though as they turned back to me, the bereted one now taking center stage again once more.
“Yes. It's being immediately aired. You do realize you are a bit of a celebrity on Gaia, yes? A special breaking news from you would certainly draw the right eyes. Then it'll spread from there. We do have other stuff for you to read, but it'll appear on the prompter. Other than that though we'll take our leave once everything is said and done.”
I gave a small thanks to Solgalik, as that would mean I would be able to go back home and get at least a claw or two of rest. Speh, if I just slept here I could get an extra one easy. But I didn't have much time to dwell on that, instead I apparently had a job to do right now.
With that bit of information I decided to go around, talking to the crew, who as of this point has finally settled down and has stopped scattering from the Gaians. A small conversation with each helped us plan out the next few tantalizingly painful minutes that were about to unfold live on air.
With everything and everyone in place, I took my seat at the curved table in the middle of the cameras, getting my little tie ready. With a countdown from 3, I settled into my on screen persona as the red lights of the cameras went on.
“Good Paw to everyone tuning in! I'm your host as always, Rux Limpbut, and this is Predator problems. This time though, we do have some breaking news that we need to get to. So with that being said, I suppose it's time for me to get to it.”
I straightened my back, placing my paws firmly as I closed my eyes, breathing in and then opening my eyes again.
Alright. Just gotta break the news that the head of state of the other half of our Commonwealth is dead and their Army just decided to seize power for democracy's sake.
“I have some sad, and what some can and should be saying is unsettling, news. Sole Speaker Jikem of the Gaian Cooperative, has died earlier this paw. Details are scarce and hard to come by as of this point, but from preliminary reports and investigations, it seems as though he *may* have been assassinated while at a checkpoint. As many of you know he was elected on a lockstep ticket with the current governor of Venlil Prime, Veln. He oversaw the last closing years of the Dominion-Federation war, as well as the beginning of closer federation ties. Many people are bound to ask as of this point what is going to happen, and the easiest and most truthful answer is…we don't know.”
I shuffled some papers, discarding the packet to the side of the table before continuing on with the information I was to spout out.
“Already reports are coming in that the Armed Forces of Gaia have declared a state of emergency and already there are rumblings that they have formed… an emergency government?”
I gave a bit of a confused look before continuing, I could see the group of uniformed Gaians nodding as I did so, apparently that was good enough for them.
The rest of the news report was generally a bit unsettling, or at least info packed by many people's standards. Updates on the federation at large, some reports on the status of the Venian Commonwealth and what was the plan going forward and before I knew it the red blinking light on the cameras had vanished, and the lights overhead had dimmed.
“Alright, that's good for us. We'll have one of our guys stay over the paw to help your team edit it but other than that? You can head on home.” The bereted one informed me, before signalling to one of the clique, most likely the one to stay here and “help” us edit.
I rested back in my chair and closed my eyes, I think it was time for me to get some shuteye.
—----------
Smoke billows out from the mouth of the Uniformed figure, a lit cigar cradled in his claws. He takes a survey of the trio gathered in front of him.
“So.” The figure grunts out, leaning back into his chair.
“So, what?” One of the trio asks inquisitively, shifting in their seat.
“So now what? Not many paws you get to make a masterstroke of a situation like this. Sole speaker is dead, people are looking to any type of stability and we perfectly fill the slot.” The Uniformed figure takes the cigar up to his mouth, smoking it lightly.
“Well there are numerous concerns.” The most center of the trio speak.
“Like what to do with those brahking predators that apparently still exist.” To the right of the first speaker.
“I vote we integrate them posthaste!” And finally the one on the other end.
A thick billowing cloud of smoke escapes the lips of the Uniformed figure, fidgeting for a moment before rolling forward. His face now fully lit.
“Gentlemen. Calm down. We have plenty of problems with plenty of solutions. But that's why you put me in charge of this little emergency government anyhow right? Levelheaded, warhero, clean political record.”
The trio murmur for a moment before returning a nod, the middle one piping up as he did so.
“Yes, that is why we decided to throw our towel in with you Marshal.”
The Uniformed figure now places his elbows on the table, his paws bridging each other while the cigar is still in-between in his paws.
“That's Marshal-at-Arms Jyuvernik to you. Now where were we? Ah right. The Dark corner. I want you to send a diplomatic team to assess the cattle debacle.”