My ex and I broke up a while ago. He has drifted in an out of my life and left out the fact he was a) in a relationship with his new girlfriend b) living with his new girlfriend while I was unsuspecting and still attempting to be friendly. Then he at several points made it sound like they had broken up- but didn't flat out say it. And made it sound like there were still feelings- but wouldn't flat out say it. When I found out she was still in the picture- I cut off all contact.
He is the master of treading the line between not cheating, and actually cheating. He always comes back or reaches out, I have blocked him since this all has been going on.
Well, I ran into both of them at a club. I was there with other people. He said hello and I just ignored him. His girlfriend was shooting daggers at me the entire time, and I just decided to stay having a good time.
He approached me trying to start talking again, I again dodged him. Went came back and again he cornered me. I said to leave me alone I didn't want to talk, had no interest in it.
His girlfriend came over and started going off on me saying that I need to leave him alone he is over me and I was pathetic for "holding on". I said all I'm doing is trying to get rid of your boyfriend.
An argument ensued, and here's where I may be the asshole. I know (from what my ex has told me in the past and also usernames he uses) that his girlfriend is bi-sexual (nothing wrong with this I myself have leanings) and that he puts "cuck" in most of his usernames- I did the math, so before I could think about potentially offending I said "Why don't you both get cucked, oh, wait, you already did." She went BEET red.
Turned on my heels and left. My 4 friends who had come to my aid were mostly supportive but one, A, feels that my use of "cuck" some how slams her being LGBTQ (??)... I said that wasn't my intent. More of pointing out that he emotionally cheats and she has supposedly physically cheated before and that is their dynamic. Plus it was a fucking laughable dig in the light of day-
Now I'm not tipsy and a little more clear AITAH?

So I’ve (M22) been seeing this girl (F19) for the past 2 months very casually. I broke up with my long term (2 yrs) ex a few weeks before and surprisingly got to know and like this girl. We’ve been out a few times and been back to each-others places. We’ve had lots of deep personal conversations and I really like her. The thing is it’s been so unclear to me whether she’s interested or not. She has reassured me that she is but sometimes her actions don’t match up, but then other times it’s clear she is. A few days ago we went out for drinks and it was great. I bit the bullet and asked her if she sees me as just friends, as it’s something I had started to wonder. Her response was that I am a good friend but also someone she’s interested in romantically. But she doesn’t want to lose me out of her life as a friend if things don’t work out romantically. She also said she thinks she sees it heading in to a friendship more, but right now that’s not the case. Fast forward a few days later we’re together in a group setting with a bunch of work friends at a party (we work together), it was almost like she ignored me, I just accepted this is probably because she doesn’t want work friends speculating about us. She then got very sick from getting too high and stepped outside. I was there to help her regardless of the ignoring, along with a couple other friends. It seemed like she didn’t want any of my help and almost wanted to shrug me away. But anyway I was really concerned and took her home with the others, and then she asked the other girl to go inside her place (she can only have 1 guest) so I just waited outside for an hour. The fact she didn’t want me there to help but did want this random girl, was weird to me? The next day she called me apologising for her being so high etc and thanking me a lot for helping her out. I heard from a mutual friend that she thinks I’m too good to be true. This friend also said that she thinks I’m too shy for her (she’s a Latina for context) This is so true and it pains me because I am an incredibly awkward person when dating. We’ve barely shared any physical affection, I get so nervous to make first moves to her. And it hasn’t exactly helped my confidence to do so when she’s been kind of giving me mixed signals about her feelings. I find it so hard to cross that barrier from just hanging out to light physical touch, cuddling, kissing etc. Sex seems like ages away. I feel like I will lose her soon or I’ll become friend-zoned, all because of my shyness. What should be my next step? I really like this girl and will be gutted if it doesn’t work out. But at the same time, the mixed signals stress me out and I don’t know if I can change my awkwardness unless she makes the first moves for me.

Ministers apologise and return £7,000 in benefits to woman, 93, with dementia
Government ministers have formally apologised and repaid £7,000 to a 93-year-old woman whom they held responsible for running up benefits overpayment debts even though they were told she had dementia and was unable to manage her affairs.
The case, which the minister for disability, Mims Davies, admitted was “disturbing”, was brought to light by the Guardian as part of its investigation into carer's allowance overpayments.
The agreement to write off the debt of the 93-year-old, whom the Guardian has chosen not to name, comes as ministers have promised to try new ways of sharing information with carers to try to prevent them building up months and years of overpayments.
Read the full article on theguardian.com
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DWP confirmed that it is developing an ‘enhanced notification strategy’ to alert carer’s allowance claimants to possible overpayments
Notifications designed to encourage claimants to report changes in income and so reduce the risk of being overpaid.
As part of its policy paper, Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further, that was published earlier this week, the Department says (at paragraph 78) -

'In carer’s allowance we are progressing an enhanced notification strategy as part of our existing commitment to improve customer engagement, building on our existing communications with customers. As part of this notification strategy we are considering all forms of targeted contact to find the most effective and efficient solution, such as exploring the use of targeted text messages or emails to alert claimants and encourage them to contact the Department when the DWP is made aware of a potential overpayment.'

The Department added -

'The new strategy will help claimants understand when they may have received an earnings-related overpayment or are at risk of doing so, and will encourage claimants to contact the DWP to meet their obligation to inform the Department of changes in their income and other relevant circumstances. This will reduce the risk of those customers being overpaid.'

Note: having expressed concern that the DWP had 'done nothing' to stop carers building up huge overpayments of benefit despite knowing what people are earning, Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms called on the National Audit Office to investigate problems with the carer's allowance system and, in particular, its failure to prevent or rectify overpayments.
Stephen Timms has also written to Secretary for State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride highlighting concerns about the DWP's lack of progress with overpayments since the previous committee's report in 2019. Mr Timms' letter repeats the committee's recommendation that the DWP increase the rate of carer's allowance and goes on to call for the DWP to review both the amount and the cliff-edge nature of the earnings limit and for the removal of the 21-hour study rule.
For more information, see Policy paper: Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further from gov.uk
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Carers UK has welcomed the DWP's plans, noting this is the 'minimum' they've been calling for to tackle carers' overpayments. However, Director of Policy and Public Affairs Emily Holzhausen also highlights that implementing the strategy is 'urgent', asks that the whole issue be moved out of being branded benefits fraud, and that carer's allowance be reviewed as it should be 'modernised to reflect the realities of caring'.
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DWP-commissioned research highlights how the carer’s allowance earnings threshold influences decisions about how many hours carers work
Report also makes clear that the Department was made aware three years ago that there was room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving its communications.
The research, Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance, explores how and why people claim carer's allowance; their caring roles; experiences of combining paid work and care; and how well claimants understand the rules associated with the benefit. While carried out in 2020/2021, the research has been published today against a backdrop of calls for the wholescale reform of carer's allowance as a result of evidence that claimants who have earned above the carer's allowance earnings limit have been left with large overpayments and, in some cases, prosecuted for fraud.
While the research found that many claimants in employment felt there was a practical limit to the hours they could work, with many saying it was only feasible to be working part-time due to their caring responsibilities, it also found that -

• the earnings threshold appeared to influence decisions about how many hours some people worked. Even though claimants often denied that the threshold influenced their choices, they acknowledged being mindful to stay below the threshold. One claimant felt he had to refuse shifts at work that would take him over the threshold;
• in another example, the earnings limit led a claimant to reduce her hours as her wages increased, and eventually she was working so few hours that her employer felt it was not worth employing her due to her limited availability; and
• some claimants in paid work felt they might work more hours if not for the earnings threshold, and even suggested tapering the carer’s allowance earnings rule to encourage claimants to work more.

Published on the same day that the Work and Pensions Select Committee said that there has been insufficient progress in addressing the problems with carer's allowance that it highlighted five years ago, the research makes clear that the Department has been aware of the issues for some time. For example, it highlights confusion relating to the complexity of the earnings calculation, including how deductions such as childcare expenses and pension contributions are taken account of, and whether wages can be averaged if you earn more in a particular week.
In addition, with the Chair of the Select Committee Stephen Timms having said recently that the DWP has done nothing to stop carers building up huge overpayments despite knowing what people are earning, and the Committee having called on the National Audit Office to investigate the problems with the system, the research found that -

• poor communication on the part of the DWP meant that not all of those that had been overpaid benefit were clear on the reason for the overpayment;
• some said that while they were initially notified or questioned about an overpayment there was then no follow-up from the Department; and
• when the overpayment was initially raised, several claimants felt that they were spoken to or treated by DWP as though they had intentionally committed fraud when the overpayment had been a misunderstanding.

As a result, the research says -

'... there is room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving communications around eligibility criteria. Since claimants did not engage with the detail of their benefit regularly, possibly only considering it once a year when they received their annual letter, more frequent communications may improve clarity of knowledge around carer’s allowance.'

Other key findings include that -

• most claimants cared for close relatives, with two in five caring for a child (39 per cent), a quarter caring for a spouse or partner (25 per cent), and one in five (22 per cent) caring for a parent;
• caring was a long-term and high-intensity commitment, with half of claimants (52 per cent) spending 65 or more hours caring per week and more than half (54 per cent) caring for between 5 and 20 years;
• only 16 per cent of carer's allowance claimants were currently in paid work, tending to work part- time in lower paid jobs that they were able to fit around their caring responsibilities, with most (81 per cent) working 20 hours or less a week;
• of those not currently in paid work, seven in ten (69 per cent) said this was due to their responsibilities as a carer, with other barriers including a lack of flexible working options, claimants’ own health and confidence issues; and
• there was a lag between starting caring and claiming carer's allowance, with seven in ten claimants (70 per cent) caring for 5+ years, but only 3 in 10 (34 per cent) having claimed carer's allowance for that length of time.

For more information, see Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance from gov.uk
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Almost 135,000 people currently have an outstanding carer's allowance debt, with more than £250 million owed in total, according to figures supplied by DWP Minister Paul Maynard
DWP Minister also confirms that women represent 68 per cent of those with an outstanding debt.
Responding to a written question in Parliament from Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms, Mr Maynard said -

'As of 14 May 2024, the volume of people who have an outstanding carers allowance debt is 134,800 with a total value of £251 million. This figure represents the total stock and as such the total monetary amount may have been accrued over multiple years. Those who have an outstanding carers allowance debt may no longer be in receipt of the benefit.'

Mr Maynard added that -

'Women make up the majority of carer’s allowance claims, and this is reflected in the proportion of those with an outstanding carer’s allowance debt. As of 14 May 2024, there were 42,800 (32 per cent) males, 91,900 (68 per cent) females and 100 (less than 1 per cent) not identified, with an outstanding carer's allowance debt.'

The Minister also confirmed that, as of November 2023, there were more than 991,000 people in receipt of carer's allowance, consisting of around 271,000 (27 per cent) males and 720,000 (73 per cent) females.
Mr Maynard's written answer is available from parliament.uk
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Total value of benefit overpayments in 2023/2024 increased to almost £10 billion, representing 3.7 per cent of benefit expenditure for the year
New DWP figures also show that official error underpayments remained at around £1 billion, and that people could have claimed more than £3 billion more 'if they had provided accurate information about their circumstances'.
In Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates, the DWP calculates how much money it overpaid or underpaid as a percentage of total benefit expenditure for the year (£266.2bn) - for benefits including universal credit, housing benefit, personal independence payment, employment and support allowance and pension credit - and how many claims were paid an incorrect amount.
Note: the statistics no longer include estimates of claimant error underpayments as these are now published separately, as confirmed in recent DWP guidance.
In relation to incorrect payment rates across all benefits for the financial year ending (FYE) 2024, the figures show that the total rate of benefit expenditure overpaid was 3.7 per cent (£9.7bn), compared with 3.6 per cent (£8.3bn) in 2022/2023. In addition, the total rate of benefit expenditure underpaid was 0.4 per cent (£1.1bn), compared with 0.5 per cent (£1.2bn) in FYE 2023.
Looking in more detail at the figures for individual benefits, the statistics include data showing that -

• for universal credit, expenditure increased to £51.9bn in 2024 with an overpayment rate of 12.4 per cent (£6.5bn) and underpayment rate of 0.3 per cent (£180m), compared to expenditure of £43.4 bn, overpayments at 12.7 per cent (£5.5bn) and underpayments at 0.6 per cent (£240m) in FYE 2023;
• for personal independence payment (PIP), the overpayment rate was at the lowest recorded level of 0.4 per cent (£90m), compared with 1.1 per cent (£200m) in FYE 2023. However, the underpayment rate went up to 0.4 per cent (£80m), from 0.3 per cent (£60m) the previous year;
• for pension credit, the overpayment rate was 9.7 per cent (£520m) in FYE 2024, compared with 6.8 per cent (£330m) in the previous year, with underpayments remaining unchanged at 0.3 per cent (£50m) for both years; and
• for housing benefit, almost £1bn (£980m) was overpaid in FYE 2024 (6.3 per cent of expenditure), compared with £860m (5.7 per cent) in 2023. Underpayments remained stable at 0.4 per cent of spending (£50m in FYE 2024 and £60m in FYE 2023).

In addition to the fraud and error statistics, the DWP has also issued Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: Financial Year Ending (FYE) 2024, in line with its decision to remove claimant underpayments from its main fraud and error estimates. The new statistics set out the percentage of benefit expenditure that could have been paid to people with unfulfilled eligibility 'if they had provided the correct information', and show key findings that include -

• the unfulfilled eligibility rate for 2024 is 1.2 per cent of expenditure (£3.1bn), compared with 1.0 per cent (£2.3bn) in the previous year; and
• universal credit, PIP and disability living allowance (DLA) account for around three-quarters of the total value of unfulfilled eligibility (at £730m, £870m and £750m respectively in FYE 2024).

The DWP highlighted that -

'PIP has the second highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [4 per cent] of all benefits and fairly high expenditure [£21.6bn], so due to this combination, PIP accounts for around one-quarter of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. DLA has the highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [11.1 per cent] but relatively low expenditure [£6.8m], so even though its rate is higher than PIP, it accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. Universal credit has a lower unfulfilled eligibility rate than DLA and PIP [1.4 per cent] but its high expenditure means that it also accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024.'

For more information, see Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates and Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates from gov.uk
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Work and Pensions Secretary Mel Stride has set out the DWP's plans to scale up its 'fight against fraudsters'
New measures include using machine learning to detect and prevent fraudulent claims, as well as introducing a new Bill to enable benefit fraud to be treated like tax fraud.
Issuing a written statement in the House of Commons on 13th May, Mr Stride said -

'In the continued fight against fraud, today the Government will publish a new paper setting out the progress we have made in tackling fraud and error in the welfare system - Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further. The paper sets out the progress we have made in delivering the commitments in the Government's 2022 command paper Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System and it demonstrates where we are going further to protect taxpayers’ money from fraudsters.'

Highlighting that the Data Protection and Digital Information Bill, currently before Parliament, will enable the Department to work with third parties such as banks to identify claims that signal potential fraud and error, Mr Stride says that the new measures being introduced include -

• bringing forward a new Fraud Bill in the next parliament to treat benefit fraud like tax fraud, by providing for the ability to make arrests and conduct searches and seizures by warrant;
• exploring a new civil penalty to punish fraudsters, potentially broadening the scope of cases that can receive a penalty when the courts are not prosecuting, and increasing the value of the civil penalty;
• tripling the size of the Targeted Case Review programme to reach almost 6,000 staff with the aim of saving £6.6 billion by 2027/2028; and
• making changes to universal credit including new partly automated checks on self-employed income, new online prompts for claimants to re-declare their circumstances (such as if they have moved in with a partner), and increasing checks on capital when people claim the benefit to ensure they are eligible.

Note: the Department confirms that final decisions on accepting or stopping a claim will, however, continue to be made by a member of DWP staff.
For more information, see DWP updates Fraud Plan from gov.uk
In response to the above article the Disability News Service reported that the government's fraud policy paper ignores coroner’s concerns over review of disabled woman’s universal credit claim. Read the DNS article on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Less than half of legacy benefit claimants who were sent a migration notice between July 2022 and March 2024 have made a claim for universal credit, according to new figures from the DWP
However, new DWP statistics also show that 60 per cent of households that claimed universal credit have been awarded transitional protection.
In Completing the move to Universal Credit: statistics related to the move of households claiming Tax Credits and DWP benefits to Universal Credit: data to end of March 2024, the DWP sets out figures for the period since July 2022, noting that -

'In the period covered by this bulletin, the vast majority of migration notices have been sent to tax credit households whose likelihood of claiming universal credit and receiving transitional protection may be different from DWP legacy benefit claimants, the majority of whom had not yet been sent a migration notice in the period covered in this bulletin.'

The statistics include that -

• a total of 824,050 individuals (in 540,070 households) were sent migration notices up to March 2024 - up by around 300,000 and 200,000 respectively compared to the totals for December 2023;
• a total of 400,940 individuals (49 per cent of those sent migration notices), living in 275,980 households, have made a claim for universal credit;
• of households that have claimed universal credit, 166,860 (60 per cent) have been awarded transitional protection;
• a total of 238,990 individuals who were sent migration notices are still going through the managed migration process; and
• a total of 184,120 individuals who were sent migration notices have had their legacy benefit claims closed.

Move to Universal Credit statistics, July 2022 to March 2024 is available from gov.uk
Note: the DWP has also published Universal Credit statistics, 29 April 2013 to 11 April 2024­ which show that there were 6.7 million people on universal credit in April 2024 (300,000 more than the 6.4 million in January 2024) and that half of households on universal credit that received a payment in February 2024 included children.
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Department for Communities also confirms that claimants in receipt of other legacy benefits will be issued with migration notices 'in the coming months'
The Department for Communities (DfC) has confirmed that the 'Move to UC' rollout in Northern Ireland has expanded this week to include people receiving tax credits along with housing benefit.
Announcing the expansion of the process, Deputy Secretary of Work and Health at the DfC Paddy Rooney said -

'We continue to take a measured and carefully managed approach to migrating legacy benefit recipients to universal credit. We have already successfully completed issuing migration notices to tax credit only recipients and we will continue to take every step possible to ensure that everyone receives the help and support they need during this next phase of Move to UC.'

The Department also confirmed that once it has issued migration notices to all those receiving tax credits with housing benefit, the following groups will be contacted in this order -

• people claiming income support;
• people claiming housing benefit only, and those claiming child tax credit with income-related employment and support allowance (ESA); and
• people claiming income-based jobseeker's allowance.

In relation to the bringing forward of managed migration for ESA and ESA/housing benefit claimants in Great Britain, announced by the Prime Minister on 19 April 2024, the DfC says that it is working to assess the impact of this on the region. It also confirms that it will align with the DWP's aim to complete the migration of legacy benefit claimants to universal credit by March 2025.
For more information, see Tax credit with housing benefit recipients next to 'Move to UC' and Rollout of Universal Credit for Tax Credit and Legacy Benefit customers - screening from ni.gov.uk
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57,000 adverse universal credit sanction decisions were made in January 2024, according to new DWP statistics
DWP statistics also highlight that around 95 per cent of decisions are as a result of failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview.
In Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024, the DWP reports on both the rate and duration of sanctions for universal credit claimants who are in conditionality regimes where they be applied.
Key findings include that -

• in February 2024, 30.1 per cent of claimants were in conditionality regimes that were subject to sanctions and, of these, 6.52 per cent were sanctioned - down 0.64 percentage points from the previous quarter;
• over the last year, 94.9 per cent of adverse sanction decisions were for failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview; and
• in February 2024, there were 20,000 completed sanctions in the 4 weeks to 13 weeks sanction duration band, 4,800 in the over 13 weeks to 26 weeks duration band, and 4,000 of over 26 weeks duration.

In addition, while the total number of claimants in conditionality regimes where sanctions can be applied has remained largely stable since May 2022 (currently at 1.95 million), the total number of adverse sanction decisions stood at 57,000 in January 2024, the highest since March 2022.
The DWP notes that -

'Comparisons with universal credit prior to February 2024 ... should not be made. This is because the data sources, methodology and rules of the benefits differ from those used for universal credit currently.'

However, it adds that, following the reinstated duration measures and rate methodology improvements, the data is now determined stable and fit for purpose and, as of May 2024, it is published under the 'Official Statistics' label as opposed to 'in development'.
For more information, see Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024 from gov.uk
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DWP has admitted missing multiple opportunities to record the 'vulnerability' of a disabled woman whose death was later linked by a coroner to failings at the heart of its UC system
The Disability News Service reported on the case of Nazerine (known as Naz) Anderson, from Melton Mowbray, who died of an overdose in June last year, after receiving a UC review notice.
According to a prevention of future deaths (PFD) report sent to the department by coroner Fiona Butler, the DWP missed six opportunities to record Anderson’s “vulnerability” on its IT system while it was reviewing her universal credit claim, and had failed to act on the mental distress she showed in phone calls about her claim. It also repeatedly failed to act on requests to direct its telephone calls and letters to her daughter.
The DWP admits multiple universal credit failures before disabled woman’s death article is available on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Number of emergency food parcels distributed across the UK by the Trussell Trust has increased by 90 per cent over the past five years
Food charity reports that it distributed more than three million parcels last year, with more than a million of them going to children.
In Emergency food parcel distribution in the UK: April 2023 - March 2024, the Trust says that it distributed 3,121,404 food parcels, the most parcels that it has ever distributed in a financial year, representing a four per cent increase on last year's record-breaking numbers for 2022/2023 and a 94 per cent increase since 2018/2019.
The charity also highlights that the number of parcels provided to children has continued to rise, exceeding 1.1 million in 2023/2024, and that food bank support is provided disproportionately to children, compared to the proportion of children in the UK population. In addition, it notes that pension age households are increasingly likely to need to use a food bank, with food bank support for these households having more than quadrupled between 2018/2019 and 2023/2024 (an increase of 345 per cent), compared to an 81 per cent rise amongst households without someone of pension age.
Also sharing statistics on the reason for referral for an emergency food parcel - which include health, benefit issues, work hour changes, insecure housing, changes in personal circumstances, immigration status and domestic abuse, as well as income and debt levels - the Trussell Trust says -

'Across all households the most common reason for referral was due to issues with income and debt levels. The vital role of the social security system in driving these trends is clear from the fact that the majority (78 per cent) of people referred to food banks were reported to solely have income from the social security system, with a further 8 per cent having earned income as well as income from social security.'

Trussell Trust Chief Executive Emma Revie said -

'It’s 2024 and we’re facing historically high levels of food bank need. As a society, we cannot allow this to continue. We must not let food banks become the new norm ... A supportive social security system is the bedrock on which we end hunger for good. Building on this, we need much more effective employment and financial support for parents, carers and disabled people, and action to ensure everyone can have the security we all need to access opportunities and have hope for the future, through more secure and flexible jobs and investment in social housing. Food banks are not the answer. They will be there to support people as long as they are needed, but our political leaders must take bold action to build a future where everyone has enough money to afford the life’s essentials. The time to act is now.'

For more information, see End of Year Stats from trusselltrust.org
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Employment Minister Jo Churchill has provided a House of Lords Select Committee with an undertaking that the administrative earnings threshold (AET) in universal credit will not be increased again without a 'sound evidence base'
However, Minister's evidence to Lords Committee fails to address its dissatisfaction with DWP's explanation for not publishing robust evidence to support previous increases in the threshold.
Further to the Lords Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee's report on new regulations that implemented a further increase in the AET from 13 May 2024 - that criticised the ‘inexplicable’ lack of data evaluating previous increases in the threshold in September 2022 and January 2023 - the Committee held a one-off evidence session yesterday to question the Minister and DWP officials.
Introducing the session, Committee Chair Lord Hunt acknowledged that the DWP had agreed to share its informal findings supporting its AET policy. However Lord Hunt added that -

'... similar, no doubt to the material that the Social Security Advisory Committee saw but correctly declined, if information is not available to the House and the public, then we feel unable to consider it either.'

The Committee then questioned the Minister about the Department's failure to publish evidence providing an assessment of the impact of increasing the AET either before or after implementing the change.
In response, Ms Churchill highlighted that the Department did publish a randomised controlled trial evaluation in 2018 providing the highest level of evidence on the impacts of increased in-work conditionality that Ministers have had sight of. When challenged that this evidence is somewhat outdated and 'a bit threadbare' - as it has been relied on for three increases in the AET - Ms Churchill indicated that Ministers also had early sight of unpublished research (a Regression Discontinuity Design (RDD) study) that compares the experiences of claimants who are just below and just above the AET.
When pressed on the expected publication dates for this and further evidence, Mr Churchill said -

'I have asked for [the RDD study] to be available as soon as it can be, and the date I was given was spring 2024 ... I would like it out the door as soon as possible, so you have more data ... RDD is the next piece, the next building block and then, the longitudinal study will come through in 2025.'

Concluding the session with a final question, Lord Hunt, speaking on behalf of the whole Committee, said -

'... we're looking for an undertaking from you, not to further expand the cohort until the Department can publish robust evidence of its effects. Are you able to give us that undertaking?

Ms Churchill responded -

'So are you alluding to us holding 15 hours or with this latest laying at 18? Because I could certainly say to you, I think with all confidence that at 18, we want to understand the iterations and make sure that we've got a sound evidence base from there.'

NB - the increase in the AET in January 2023 was based, for individuals, on the equivalent of them working 15 hours per week at the National Living Wage, and this week's increase to the equivalent of them working 18 hours per week.
Despite welcoming the Minister's reply, Lord Hunt went on to say -

'... we accept your undertaking, except we are still as dissatisfied as we were because you haven't provided, in the view of the Committee, sufficient explanation yet. We are awaiting this robust evidence, which I think that we now expect in June 2024.'

The evidence session Regulations to increase the Administrative Earnings Threshold (Legislative scrutiny) is available from parliament.tv
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Work and Pensions Select Committee has called on the government to bring forward proposals to compensate women born in the 1950s who suffered as a result of the DWP's communication failures when their pension age was increased, and asks that it does so in the current parliamentary session
Committee chair highlights lengthy delay and urgency for affected women and calls on government to act on Parliamentary Ombudsman recommendations before summer recess.
Writing to Secretary of State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride, Committee Chair Stephen Timms requests government support for 'urgent action' following the Parliamentary Ombudsman's final report in March 2024 which recommended a remedy based on level 4 of its severity of injustice scale, putting awards at between £1,000 and £2,950.
Mr Timms says that the Committee does not seek to question the Ombudsman's proposal for compensation at level 4, but instead has focused on what a remedy may look like -

'The evidence we received indicated support for a rules-based system. This would be a system where payments would be adjusted within a range (based on the PHSO’s severity of injustice scale) to reflect the extent of change in the individual’s State Pension age and the notice of the change which the individual received. This would mean that the less notice you had of the change and the bigger the change in your SPA, the higher the payment you would receive. While not perfect, the advantages of such a system are that it would be: quick to administer; applying known data to a formula to determine the amount due; and relatively inexpensive (compared to a more bespoke system).'

The Committee's recommendation also includes some flexibility for individuals to make the case for further compensation in the event that they have experienced direct financial loss, for example where a woman whose divorce settlement was less than it would have been because it was based on the expectation that she would receive her state pension at 60.
Mr Timms also asks the government to consider -

'... the need for urgent action, given that the Ombudsman started to look at this issue in 2018 and that every 13 minutes a woman born in the 1950s dies ... Implementing a remedy will need parliamentary time, financial resources, and the data and technical systems only available to your department. It cannot happen without government support. We would ask you to bring forward proposals for a remedy by the summer recess.'

Mr Timms' letter to the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions is available from parliament.uk
​
​

I drive a 2005 dodge ram 1500 with the 4.7L v8. Lately the oil pressure would drop to zero when I come to a stop. For example, I’d drive to a stop light and when I stop, the oil pressure would go to zero. Then, it would go back up as I start moving again. It’s happened twice so far but it’s definitely concerning. I don’t know if it’s a problem with my engine or one with the sensor. What should I do?

More misery bird? More misery bird. Really miserymaxxing with these fics I have going, but hey, this one is not that miserable actually! Krekos is back and ready to be dense and downcast, but maybe not quite miserable? Read and see!
Big thank you to NoP community for being great and supportive of my endeavors!
Also, obviously, big thanks to SpacePaladin15 for creating this universe and allowing fanfiction well to flow free!
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Memory transcription subject: Krekos, Krakotl Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: May 6th, 2137
I stare at the foul creature before me. Normally staring at something directly head on like that would be too predatory for me to do, but after nearly dying of bread yesterday, I didn’t feel patient enough to be gentle. The creature stared right back, though in a much more natural, prey-like way, tilting its head slightly as it looked back at me with one eye and let out a long bwok.
“Are you doing this now? Really?”, I ask, knowing full well it cannot respond.
Well, it can, if another bwok it made is any indication. Of course, translators aren’t yet advanced enough to translate non-sapient speech, but the intention behind sound is intuitively clear. It’s telling me to back off. Well, I tried the diplomatic approach at least.
Raising my wing I begin sliding the bird out of its nest, careful to keep any delicate joints out of its reach. It started clucking in upset indignation, struggling back and even trying to peck at me, but after realizing that I will not relent, it hopped out of the box and rushed out of the cattle house, revealing a single dead egg in the nesting box.
With relief, I finally pick up the last egg and head back to leave them at the house. Turns out that while Reginald didn’t forget to both lock them up yesterday and let them out today, he did neglect feeding them both times, as well as collecting the harvest. So when I was driven back here in early morning, the first thing I did was making sure they were taken care of. I can’t say the horrid birds looked in any way hungry, but the moment I poured the feeding grain for them, they attacked it with more viciousness than I’d expect of an actual predator. And yet only thirteen were present at the feeding, as the one that’s usually the target of flock’s ire remained in the cattle house yet again, Reginald leaving it to it, being unaware of its undesirable habit of trying to hatch dead eggs.
With eggs delivered, I flew my way to my usual spot atop the cattle house and could finally relax. The loner beast first made its way to feast on the scraps of the grain that other birds already all have had their fill of, so I wasn’t too concerned. Instead I tried to reflect on the morning I had so far.
Waking up at the hospital did make me momentarily panic before I remembered the precluding events. Not that I could properly panic, feeling the most starved I’ve been my whole life, and too weak to try flying out of the window. Thankfully, the breakfast they provided was actually well made with krakotl needs in mind, algae soup alongside a few slices of bread, this time without any horrid human ideas like putting eggs in there. Eggs! Turns out they put eggs in some kinds of bread! That’s how I got sick! Eggs! The thought of what I consumed even now made me queasy, and it definitely made breakfast a much less appetizing affair than it would have been without that knowledge, but back then the hunger won over the disgust.
Lena did keep her promise and came to pick me up extra early. Her being a staff member at the hospital gave her some extra privilege, I assume, hence why I was released without any forms needing to be filled out personally. She did have important business today too, which probably explained the earlyness and urgency of her driving me back to her house.
That did not mean I escaped her ire, however. While I couldn’t pinpoint anything to identify the man, as Bob was apparently a common name, that offered me bread, we did come to understanding that he was likely either unaware of the nutritional contents of it, or of extent to which the Cure-induced allergy would be affecting a krakotl. Yet, Lena seemed much angrier at me for failing to take any precautions. Turns out that was the purpose of medicinal injectors, epipens as humans call them, that were provided to me. I was supposed to have them on me in case I accidentally ingested contaminated food. Nobody told me that, I was just handed them back when I first received the necessities at the refugee camp and I had no clue what they were for. Then she also berated me for eating random food from strangers and ignoring bad flavors. Turns out that brioche bread isn’t actually bitter at all, and that was my body reacting to an allergen in it. Reaction that I unwisely elected to ignore, to further ire of my host. By the end, several new rules of my stay here were made, including not eating things I don’t know and always having at least one epipen on me. Thankfully, these rules would be ones I’d start following even without them being established, so I won’t have to concern myself with being kicked out over accidentally breaking them.
As if following the rules will be enough to make them like you.
Trying to distract myself from thoughts of yesterday’s incident, I focused my attention on the flock. All birds accounted for, so at least I knew that my absence did not result in the predator coming to snatch one of them. I do not wish to insult my hosts, but Reginald is far from most attentive people in matters unrelated to his job, and I am not sure the birds were watched at all while I was out. Speaking of, my scannings of surrounding treelines revealed no sign of the predator today. Perhaps it departed to hunt elsewhere, or maybe it ventured too close to a more populated area and exterminators dealt with it.
Actually, did human exterminators work similar to Federation ones? I knew for a fact they had them, although they seemed like a market of private organizations if advertisements are anything to judge by. Still, what methods do they use? I know humans oppose fire, and do not believe in predatory taint, but surely they have measures to protect themselves? They are, by self-admission, far from the best natural predator, and I doubt Earth’s non-sapient predators would just leave humans be. Maybe I should call one of those human exterminator agencies and call them in to deal with that predator? I haven’t told Lena or Reginald about it, as I didn’t want to bother them, but it could pose a serious threat to the cattle, but maybe that’s the way I could resolve it without involving them?
I have not done nearly as much research into human culture and lifestyle as I should have, considering that I’ve lived on Earth for over half a year now, but the sheer width of the topic always overwhelmed me the moment I opened internet search app to the point where I just closed it right away.
And you expect to start studying again with that attitude? You’ll flunk out even from this primitive predator education course.
Extra loud call from the flock made me refocus my attention on them, but it was nothing. Just the loner getting pecked extra hard and lashing out against assailants, causing a small aimless stampede as all the birds ran around in circles, puffing up at one another. The assailants now looked a lot more like victims. I could understand those birds more than I could humans at least. The loner bird is clearly an odd one out. It’s the only one repeatedly trying to hatch unfertilized eggs it lays, and it seems to always avoid the rest of the flock. Humans may deny the existence of Predator Disease, but they can’t deny that prey and predator both can and will sometimes behave in unnatural ways that may threaten the herd's safety. Or pack’s, in case of humans. Birds must know on instinctual level that the loner’s behavior is unnatural and are attempting to combat the Predator Disease on instinctual level. And since that is natural, I still will not interfere in this, unless the loner bird actually becomes a threat to others or will start getting too injured. The first time I attempted to pick one of the birds up was the only time for a good reason, as I have learned their viciousness all too well.
DING-DING
The sudden loud ring startled me enough that I nearly tumbled off the roof. Who would be coming over now? Lena and Reginald have left together and shouldn’t be back until afternoon, and they’d never use the bell. That means someone must be here for them. But wouldn’t they warn anyone to not come over? Especially with their plans for today.
With nobody to answer these questions, I had no choice but to go and discover the answer myself, flying up and over the house, towards the entrance gate. The moment I passed the house roof, I already saw a familiar silhouette. It was the human child from a few days ago.
Thankfully, Lena’s insistence on me carrying an epipen at all times meant I also carried my satchel at all times too, so I didn’t have to go grabbing my holopad, and took it out. But before I could even launch the translator TTS app to type out a greeting, the child was already hopping in place with excitement.
“Mr. Krekos! Hi! I came over to visit!”, she exclaimed, showing off her teeth in an unnerving expression of human joy. I simply tried to avoid that and focused on the pad, typing out my response.
“Hello, Rosie. Why are you here?”
The question was genuine, as the child was not carrying any more of that honey substance from last time.
“I just came over to visit you! Is that okay? Are Mr. and Ms. Vince okay with it?”
Visit... me? Why? While I was confused, I did instinctively type out a reply.
“They did tell me visitors are allowed as long as there’s no trouble when I first moved in.”
And before I could type a followup message asking her why she’s here, she already let out a joyous roar and ran past me.
“Can I see the chickens?”, she asked, and not waiting for an answer, rushed past the house and towards the cattle yard.
“Wait! You’ll scare them!”, I yell after her, but of course without a translator she can’t understand me as she runs like she already knows where to go.
And indeed she has, quickly rushing up to the open field where the birds were grazing. Thankfully she didn’t start chasing them, instead just approaching the flock from a distance and swaying in place, watching them with what I assume was some sort of predatory excitement at the sight of prey. Maybe that’s where the contained hunting instinct of human children showed themselves? In chasing small birds? I was still more subdued, considering she stopped shy of causing a small stampede, but still.
“Grandpa used to take me with him! He helped watch this farm until Mr. and Ms. Vince moved in. I like chickens! I think they’re cute.”, the child told me innocently as she kept swaying and watching as the beasts grazed upon insects of the pasture.
That revelation was... interesting. I suppose it makes sense that between the original owner of this land dying in the bombings and Lena and Reginald moving in, it would be unattended. With nobody to feed and watch over those things, they would be long dead for sure. And it was Rosie’s grandfather... Speaking of. I typed out my words.
“Does your grandfather know you’re here?”
She seemed to get a weird look as she stopped her excited swaying, fiddling with her hands instead. Looks like I asked the correct question.
“...he knows I am out visiting neighbors.”
That did not answer my question. I squinted at the human child, and she dipped her head as she continued.
“...he doesn’t know I’m here specifically. Or that an alien even lives here...”, she explained, her tone suddenly more sullen.
I couldn’t help but squint at that, and it appears that my expression was readable enough that even a human could see the suspicion, as she continued.
“I’m sorry... But if I told grandpa, he’d tell me I’m forbidden from talking to you, like he forbade me from talking to hedgehog people in town... But I want to talk to you! You’re nice and you’re a space bird!”
The child was actually working around the rules established by her guardian to come see me. I don’t know if I should be glad or concerned. Clearly, the man is anti-alien in his opinions, and I’d rather that kind of man not know about how close he lives to one. At the same time, I’d rather not encourage a child for lying to their guardian in order to meet a stranger they know they aren’t allowed to interact with... So I just took the middle path with my next message.
“I see. What did you want to talk to me about then?”, TTS speaks for me.
Her stiffened body language disappears, replaced again with earlier excitement.
“I wanna know more about space! And aliens! It’s all so cool but grandpa says it’s all dangerous because mom and dad died. But it’s not! The hedgehog people were nice, and you’re nice too!”
I wasn’t sure about that logic, but my self-preservation told me I shouldn’t try convincing her to go confessing. Instead I focused more on her chosen topic.
“I am not sure I am the best person to ask about space. I am not a scientist or traveler.”
“But you’re from there! You know way more than me. I don’t even know what you are called. And there’s gotta be cool things out in space!”
I let out a sigh. I suppose it’s childlike curiosity at its finest. So unfamiliar with mundane that it is a wonder. I remember being like that about becoming a doctor.
And then you let your teacher die.
I quickly tapped on the pad.
“Okay, I can answer questions, but I may not know everything.”
The noise that came out of the girl was like a squeal of a panicked dossur as she started hopping and spinning in place.
“Yes! Yes! Thank you, Mr. Krekos!” Sudden movement did cause me to recoil a bit, which in turn caused her to cease her happy flailing and adjust her little dress. “I dunno where to start though... Hm... What are you?”
...for all my trepidation about not knowing answers, I should have anticipated that the questions she asks will be rather age-appropriate and on the same level as we learn in our first school classes. At least I won’t disappoint her then.
“I am from a species called ‘krakotl’. We’re avians, as is obvious. Our home is...” dead, gone, reduced to glass and ash by our own hubris “...was Nishtal. A beautiful planet...”
Thankfully she did not question my hesitant pause. Instead she just nodded along.
“What about the hedgehog people? I already know venlil, but they’re the only ones I know name of.”
Hedgehog people in town she mentioned earlier. The only species I could think of that could be seen there would be the gojid. I have no clue what hedgehogs are, but probably some creature with visible similarity to them.
“They are called ‘gojid’, and they’re from gojid Cradle. Both of our species are... well, used to be known for our might and protecting other species of Federation.”
I am not sure if that’s something to brag about, considering... everything. But I didn’t want this child to get brought down with depressing regrets of our species. Let her know something nicer instead. She clearly lost a lot, but there’s still joy left in her. I wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin that.
“Cool! What about other people? I wanna know more!”
And so I went on, telling her about various species, although I mostly focused on ones in this new human-led union, only mentioning kolshians and farsul beyond that. It’s weird explaining to a child what a tilfish or a harchen looks like, but thankfully my holopad isn’t just a method of communicating with implant-less children. With access to interstellar web, I could easily pull up pictures of various alien species to show to her, even if she struggled to believe that some of them were even sapient purely based off of looks. With how varied species in Federation are, and how some of us admittedly aren’t too far physiologically from our more primal ancestors.
Among other topics, she asked me to tell her interesting things, which I didn’t know much of. I told her about Venlil Prime’s tidally locked status, a rarity among habitable planets, much less homeworlds for species. I told her about the unique architecture of Mileau, designed to accommodate both species of regular size and dossur themselves. I told her about Colia medical academies, some of the most beautiful medical facilities in the galaxy.
I wish I was more well-travelled, but I just wasn’t. My whole life, I never left Nishtal until the extermination fleet took me despite my protests. That may have been what saved my life...
Not that I, of all people, deserved it...
“Hey! Stop that!”
I flinched as I heard the child yell, but quickly realized that it wasn’t directed at me. Instead, Rosie was rushing down towards the chicken flock, breaking up the fight in which the loner was being pecked by a few larger chickens. As the human child approached, the birds stopped their infighting and scattered in different directions, crowing in loud panic and discontent. On instinct, I found myself rushing towards the child, forgetting about translation entirely.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch them!”
I didn’t want her to hurt the cattle accidentally, and I didn’t want her to get hurt by the angry birds in return. But, it seems like the moment the birds scattered, she was satisfied with her actions and turned back to me, wearing another one of her happy smiles.
“Sorry, Mr. Krekos, I just saw chickens being mean. Bad chickens.” She explained.
I was baffled. Why would she interfere like that? When I tried that back when I was just starting, that got me pecked! But with her, the birds just scattered. What if they pecked her?
I took the pad out again and started typing quickly.
“That was dangerous. Why did you do that? What if they attacked you? Why are you even interfering in their natural dynamics?”, questions flowed out of my pad with an artificial human voice.
The girl simply giggled.
“They’re chickens! They aren’t dangerous. They don’t peck that painful and I’ve been scratched worse before. And I have to stop it because bullying is wrong.”
Then she actually noticed that the one that was being attacked wandered close. She casually approached it from behind, the blind spot and just reached down and grabbed it, picking the bird up. I was ready to rush to help the bird when...
“Mwah! There, all better.”
She did a human ‘kiss’ on the back of the cattle bird’s neck before releasing it, the surprise of it causing it to rush off. I knew what kisses were, I’ve seen enough of them between Lena and Reginald, but I believed they were gestures of intimate affection, not... what was even that?
It seems Rosie noticed my confusion as she explained.
“You gotta kiss it so it heals better! That’s what mom taught me.” The child displayed that smile of hers shamelessly. With how much I was being exposed to it, it almost wasn’t unnerving anymore. Still, it was interesting to learn that kisses are seen as something that helps wounds. I guess some species do have saliva with mild antiseptic properties, wouldn’t be too out there to assume humans are the same. And if that’s the case, maybe that’s how the kissing tradition started? Exchange of protective fluid between lovers?
“I see. I did not know that.” I responded before letting my puffed feathers relax. Okay, this whole ‘watching a human child’ thing is turning out to somehow be even more stressful than I expected at first.
“Wait, Mr. Krekos, what time is it?” She suddenly asked, looking up at the sky.
“It’s nearly twelve.” I respond, holopad having a convenient clock for local time.
“Oh no! I need to be home soon! Was nice seeing you Mr. Krekos gotta go bye!”
Before I had even a chance at typing out an answer or my own goodbye, the child sprinted away and back towards the entrance. I had to take flight just to keep up, and even then she just turned around, waved her arm at me and then kept sprinting down the road after leaving the gate. I simply offered a small wave of a wing back before locking the gate again. I suppose it is hard to keep track of time without a device or clock nearby...
Well, at least I had the usual peace and quiet now. And learned a bit more about the creatures I was in charge of. I should really try to deal with my aversion to looking things up on the human internet...
Just as I was about to head back out towards the yard, I heard a loud car horn, a familiar one, getting my attention. Lena’s car. There they were, signaling me, probably having spotted me at the gate from afar. Deciding to make use of my presence here, and hoping to avoid needing to explain that I had a surprise visitor earlier, I went ahead and opened the large gate, allowing the car to enter.
Once it was parked in the usual space, the doors opened and three people came out. Lena and Reginald were both looking a bit disheveled, but their faces carried these smiles that seemed wider than ever before. And third person... Was a stranger. A human I knew of, but never actually met. As he exited the car, a large bag in one hand, he just stared at me, standing in the front yard...
“...okay, I expected many things when I was told you guys housed a refugee, but not this.”
Oh no. Oh no, he was not one of the ones that was willing to overlook an invader that partook in bombing of his planet being allowed to walk free, of course, Lena and Reginald were the weird ones like that, doesn’t mean their son won’t be... I felt the panic rising as I realized I’d need to return to the camp. Why was I upset about that? This was supposed to just have been a way to make money, but now I have a free education program. Do I need to stay? No, but... Why?! Why do I not want to leave?
“Ken, you said it’s going to be alright no matter what it is, right? Wanted us to keep it a surprise to meet a new friend?” Lena’s voice. She should have told him, that’d give me time to prepare why didn’t they give me time why.
“No, no problems, just, really surprised, that’s all... uh... hey, buddy, you okay? You’re really... trembly.”
He was approaching me, and instinct took over as I recoiled, before stuttering out my answer.
“I-I’m fine...”
...thankfully translators don’t translate voice cracks. I hope, at least...
“Hey, relax... I have no problem with you being a krakotl, I just didn’t think...” He looks over at Lena and Reginald. “Calm down... I can wear my visor if you want?”
Right. Those things humans use to hide their scary faces from us.
“I... I’m good...”
Why would it last? It almost felt good after all.
There was some emotion I struggled to read on the young human’s face, as he sighed and shook his head.
“I screwed this up, I’m sorry. Let... Let me try again.” He straightened out, and adjusted his clothing, before slowly approaching me and giving me a small smile, no teeth showing. “Hello. My name is Kenneth Vince and I'm son of Lena and Reginald Vince. I was told you’re a refugee they took in to help out. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
That... snapped me out of it. Right... He was... not upset at my existence. He was just very surprised that Lena and Reginald weren’t. That’s a reasonable thing to be surprised about, considering I was surprised about it to this day. I tried to compose myself as I responded.
“My name is Krekos. I live here as... hired help with the cattle. It’s... nice to meet you?”
The smile on Kenneth’s face widens, though he still refrains from showing his teeth. Instead, he extends a hand towards me. A handshake is a human gesture that I found far from comfortable, but I didn’t want to give him a reason to change his mind on acceptability of my existence, so I took it with a wingclaw. He gently took it and held for a few seconds before letting go and sighing again, turning to his parents.
“You know, I always thought you guys would be empty nesters, but I never thought it’d be that literal.”
That got all three of them laughing, as I just tilted my head in confusion. I was fairly sure there were no empty nests in the house until after I adjusted the attic room for my own accommodations. Still, I took the laughter as a sign that the tense moment had fully passed and let my ruffled feathers slowly rest.
“Let’s head inside. Krekos, we’re having dinner, you’re welcome to join us.” Reginald said, picking up Kenneth’s bag. I tilted my head a little and he followed up with elaboration. “We will be having meat... But there’s still going to be stuff you can eat too. It’s a celebration, so I prepared a bit of everything.”
“Dad, you shouldn’t have!” Kenneth responded with embarrassment.
“None of that! Our son returned from the war, alive and a hero, and we can have a celebration. Krekos, I know you’re still... uncertain about meat so you don’t—”
“I’ll join.”
Wait, who said that? And why did they say that in my voice?
Wait, that was me. Why did I say that?
“That’s great to hear! I’ve got some nice steamed broccoli and some vegetarian fried rice as sides that you’ll enjoy!” Reginald smiled at me and I felt myself shrinking into my feathers. That the humans didn’t notice at least, proceeding into the house instead.
Well, looks like I signed my warrant. At least my bag and my epipen were on me in case something at the table triggers the allergy again. Would be rather unfortunate to have it happen two days in a row.
And that’s how, in just ten or so minutes, I found myself sitting at the dining perch, while humans took seats in chairs, all consuming chunks of roasted flesh and somehow managing to also stuff pieces of equally roasted plants in, and converse with one another. You wouldn’t be able to tell on first look, but despite their mouths being relatively small, especially for a predator, it seems they compensate for it by having those be near bottomless in both hunger and small talk.
I am not sure how I managed to shift my focus away from them consuming animal matter in front of me, however vat grown it might have been, and onto their conversation instead, but I succeeded. I suppose that was just part of me going native around predators. Soon, I’ll be the one feasting along with them before I know it, and snacking on those epipens to not die of it.
Like you could ever be on the same level as humans.
“So, Fahl? That’s where you were sent after the Battle of Earth?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. From what I heard, we got a light posting compared to guys at Sillis or Mileau. The most I had to deal with was some exterminator insurgents.”
That’s right. Since harchen participated in the Extermination Fleet, they were one of those who were occupied by humans during the war. It makes sense that there was at least some ground resistance.
“Honestly, the worst thing out there was the heat. Not the flamethrower kind, the climate. The place was so damn dry and hot. At least exterminators you could subdue or evade. Not so much with the scorching sun!”
I couldn’t resist a small chuckle at the idea of a predator being more afraid of hot weather than flamethrowers as I slowly pecked at the vegetables on my plate. Thankfully it was set far enough aside from any meat dishes that no contamination should occur, but I was still examining pieces before putting them in my mouth just in case.
Seems like reacting was a mistake though, as that brought Kenneth’s attention onto me. He finished chewing latest piece of flesh and pointed a fork at me.
“So, Krekos... Where are you from? Cradle was my guess, but I do know there were refugees from other places like Sillis too.”
That’s a weird question. Isn’t it kind of to be expected for a krakotl to be from our actual homeworld?”
“I’m from Nishtal.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Kenneth chuckled, tossing a piece of broccoli into his mouth and swallowing before continuing, “I meant, where did you live? I kind of assumed you were born there, but it’s not like Nishtal had a chance to send refugees out, and if they did, this is the last place they’d be.”
Oh... I caught concerned looks of Lena and Reginald, looking between me and Kenneth from both sides. Not only did they not make him aware that I was a krakotl, they also neglected to mention just how I came by my refugee status... Which was just a legal workaround to grant me asylum without unnecessary complications or establishing undesirable precedent. Legally, I may be a refugee, but practically... I am a defector. Lena and Reginald know that, I told them my story before. And while they were weirdly accepting, Kenneth... Fought extermination fleet here on Earth. Personally.
Still, I wasn’t about to lie. It took a few moments and gathering mental strength to steel myself, and averting my eyes, focusing on the plate of warm vegetables in front of me rather than the human’s anticipating stare before I answered.
“I did live on Nishtal. I... I came with the extermination fleet.” I responded, doing my best to avoid looking at him. I did not want to witness his reaction, for some reason the thought of seeing it weighed heavy on my mind.
“Oh.”
The response was simple, and had no followup. There was no more clinking of cutlery against plates, or chewing. The only thing hanging in the air of the kitchen was silence, weighing down on me. It dragged on and on... until it just got so unbearable I couldn’t take it.
“I-I’m full... Thank you for the meal.” I quickly said, hopping off the perch and stepping out of the kitchen, quickly making my way to the yard and taking flight.
Fresh air of the outside and rush of it as I flew up and gained speed... I missed that. I knew it’s not safe to just fly over other people’s territory, so I corrected my course into doing large sweeping circles over the cattle yard and simply let my wings carry me.
Flying away from any danger is the only thing I’m good for anyway. The only thing I ever do.
I closed my eyes. With them closed and not focusing on my angle it feels like I’m actually flying away from all the troubles. Away from humans who barely tolerate my existence, away from gojid who see me as worse than a predator, away from Earth and all its incorrigible customs, away from horrid cattle, away from constant memories...
Flying feels nice. It may be a bit harder than it was home, but it’s still possible. I heard that on Venlil Prime or Mileau it’s much harder. But here? Just an extra flap of wings for every few paces and you’re just fine, free to soar the skies...
Alone. With no one to ever share it with me again.
Slowly I let my eyes open back to the bleak reality. Greenery of surrounding pastures and woods, bright blue skies and farmhouses dotted about here and there greeted me. I lowered my gaze down, focusing on what’s below. There they were, fourteen brown and black dots spread around the enclosed portion of the farm territory. I am not sure how much time I’ve spent flying in circles and trying to forget things but my wings were feeling a tad sore. Then as I just began slow descent, in same circular motion, I noticed that one of the birds, a familiar one, was being chased by several others. Recounting the morning, I tried putting the knowledge to action, and shifted direction of descent, swooping down. To my surprise, that actually worked, as the moment I got close to the ground, the cattle birds all got much louder and scattered in all directions, including the loner. Who, at least this time, got off unharmed. I suppose such pathetic flightless creatures would fear a flying one much more than they would when I just run up to them...
Swooping at them from the sky like a predator to intimidate them into behaving... Like an arxur warden.
With the fight preemptively broken up, I flutter up to the roof of the cattle house, to my usual position and rested my wings. I didn’t see any movement from the direction of the house, so I suppose the family is still busy unpacking. Since Kenneth joined the military just before the Battle of Earth, and Lena and Reginald only moved here after their actual house in city of New York got destroyed, it’d be the first time the human is seeing what is basically his new home. There was a room set aside for him since before I even moved in, and while there is also a guest room... That one did not have a large enough window to fit through, which did not feel comfortable. So when I asked for a space with a bigger window they only had an attic to offer. They seemed uncomfortable letting me live in a tiny room with slanted roof, but I found such space more comforting than I would have a large room with a window not large enough to fit even one fully spread wing through.
I wonder if Kenneth will need as much renovation as I did? The house is built for humans, but he never lived there before. Will he need to buy a more comfortable bed? Getting a proper nesting setup in place of a bed took a bit of effort, but I figured something out. Human sheets were comfortable enough for such, and sitting perches were thankfully not that hard to get thanks to help from the refugee administration. Maybe that’s the things that Lena went to buy yesterday? Kenneth’s preferred room decor?
I looked up to the sky to see the sun beginning to dim. I am not sure if it was me flying that long, or me losing track of time in my thoughts again, but the sun was beginning to set. I began my usual chores, putting out an evening meal and water for the beasts, and while they feasted, ate some myself. I was a bit hungry, having not properly finished lunch and about to skip dinner, but after the earlier conversation, I’d really rather avoid giving them the opportunity to talk to me.
After the birds had their fill, and by that I mean they emptied the tray as they always do, I let out the call, and they started funneling into the cattle house. The lonely straggler being first to go and hop into its nesting box. I bet tomorrow I will have trouble with getting her out of there again...
I took the moment to gather some eggs the birds left over course of the day, and once that was over and all of them were accounted for, I closed it up. When I flew down over to the house, there wasn’t anyone by the back door thankfully, so I just left eggs there, returned the basket, and returned to my room through the window.
Well, at least I didn’t get nearly killed today... That’s nice I guess?
I was about to check my holopad when there was a knock on the door. I approached and opened it to see... Kenneth. Standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hi, Krekos. I just, uh... Wanted to apologize again. I really wish mom and dad told me everything ahead of time... I just want you to know, I have no problems with you whatsoever, yeah? It’s just. Surprising, I guess, to hear all that. I didn’t think there were any defectors from the fleet at all... Just. Uh, please don’t worry about me?” He offered me a small smile, showing his canines before quickly correcting himself and doing a closed-lip one. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or make you feel unwelcome.”
I had to take a moment to contemplate his words. Was Lena and Reginald’s weirdness hereditary? He almost reminded me of how Reginald talked to me early on, with constant stumbling over the words, as well as constant reassurances that he is fine with me being here. Couple that with failing to avoid predatory mannerisms like eye contact and smiles like Lena tends to and you get this human. But most importantly and least understandably, there was the general fact of him and them just... welcoming me. I couldn’t understand why. I should be one sorry to them.
“N-No, it’s fine... I’m sorry for... intruding on you and your family.”
“No, no, dude, you’re fine! I mean, hell, I was considering entering one of those exchange programs before the bombings happened, and even after, well, I did my best at Fahl to be the perfect friendly soldier just there to make sure no more bombs drop on my home and not kill or conquer anyone. And then mom told me your story, and I can’t believe it... Just... If you have any issues, feel free to tell me. I’m not one of those racist pricks that are too pussy to even call themselves HF anymore because they know they’ll get their teeth knocked. I get that there aren't good or bad species, just people. And you seem like a decent guy if mom and dad’s judgment is to be trusted.” His smile widened, though it was clear from tension on his face that he had to take conscious effort to keep teeth hidden. “So, what I said earlier stands. Friends, right?”
He extends hand forward, for a second time today. I wasn’t sure if I knew this human long enough to call him a friend... Any human really. But it also seems like human definition of ‘friends’ is anyone they’re cordial and peaceful with. Which is weird. You’d think translators would properly use ‘acquaintance’ for that.
Still... We will be living in the same house now. I can’t just say no, and... I can’t come up with a reason to say no. Even him being a predator and a human is not something I could really say I object to, considering how... mundane that became to me over my time here.
So, with naught on my mind but acceptance of the situation, I extended my wing and grasped his hand with my claw. This time he actually gripped it tightly and moved it up and down, as I saw other humans do occasionally.
“Yeah... I guess that’d be for the best.” I responded, shrugging off the hesitation. Fresh start for a third time, I guess?
The human grinned, forgetting to hide his teeth entirely, but I was ready for it somehow and avoided outwardly reacting.
“Cool! Anyway, I’ll try to get some shuteye early, I couldn’t sleep on the overnight flight home. See ya!”
And with that he left. Well... That meeting went well I suppose?
I returned to my nest and picked up my holopad, returning to what I was doing. And there it was, something I awaited every day. A notification that I was messaged on mailing app. Opening the letter revealed the schedule for the study program. Which... only had one day marked on it. And a note that the rest of it will be figured out ‘as we go from there’. So it’s not a schedule, it’s just a mark for the day of the first meeting.
While a bit underwhelming, it was still exciting. It would be an all-alien class so I wouldn’t have to deal with humans’ incomprehensibility nearly as much, and it would allow me to finally return to pursuing what I actually dreamt of. Even if I wasn’t entirely sure that was precisely what I wanted after everything that happened, it was at least something for me to move towards.
...just two days until start. I wonder if there’s some required reading to prepare?
[First] - [Prev] - [Next]

Let us now, then, speak of third density, the Density of Choice, the density where the great apes who began third density with their instinctual ways have, through thousands of your years and hundreds of incarnations, attempted to become human. It may be said that there are many among your people who have never fully become human. They have rested with the second-density instinctual values of the great apes: the defense of the clan, the gathering of resources for the survival of the clan, and the protection of the clan from any perceived threat.
To be human is to become aware of who one is. It is to become self-aware and to behold within the self that ethically motivated being into whose fragile temporary home, the body and the mind, has been poured infinity and eternity so that each self-aware human being is a fully formed spark of the one infinite Creator.
When an entity becomes aware of the infinite reaches of the self and begins to perceive the surrounding milieu in terms of its possibilities for ethical choice, the creation of a fully functioning human being has begun. The citizen of eternity has awakened from the sleep of earth. Gradually that entity begins to become aware of the power within that great original Thought of unconditional love that has created all that there is, that Thought which is also yours to use, to create your universe, your way, your truth.

Metaphysical power is inherent in the awakened human. Even a small child begins to test the limits of his power, his power to say, “Mine,” his power to say, “No,” his power of choice. As the body within incarnation grows to maturity, it is the plan of the infinite One that the mind within also grows and becomes more self aware. It is hoped, and it is pressed upon each spark of the Creator by the very plan of his incarnation, that choice points shall come before that human’s eyes and heart and mind, giving each entity practice in being human, in making the choice of how to serve. For service is inevitable no matter how little a human being wishes to serve. The very nature of third density places each seeker in a series of points of choice and asks that seeker, “How shall you use your power to choose?”

Third density, then, is built upon dynamic opposites: male and female, light and dark, radiant and magnetic, positive and negative. It is such an obvious feature of third density that one of your society’s greatest clichés is, “There are two kinds of people… “ And then the person will say, “Those that do this and those that don’t do this,” or, “Those that do this and those that do that.” Those that are optimists, those that are pessimists; those that like to cook, and those that don’t. There is one after another after another way of looking at the state of humanhood and it inevitably involves the mind’s making a distinction between two ways of being.
Many are the creations of the Father that have played out their third density in an atmosphere in which there was far less freedom of choice, or to put it another way, far less confusion than in your particular sub-Logos’ version of third density. [In creations] where the veil does not drop entirely, the hints and inklings that give an ethically motivated seeker the ability to make choices clearly are enhanced. However, when there is less of a veil and less true freedom of will, the third-density experience takes quite a bit longer, for there is no intensity to take a test when one knows the answers.

It was this sub-Logos’ choice to create an extremely heavy veil and complete free will. Therefore, as humans attempt to become more fully human and to make ethical choices with clarity and precision, they have no proof that what they are thinking is correct, but only the faith within that believes, against all apparent adverse suggestion, that the universe is indeed a universe of love and that making choices that enhance love and enlarge compassion shall be the way in which power is developed to do work in consciousness.

Further complicating the picture is the genetic manipulation at the beginning of this master cycle of experience upon your Planet Earth of the great-ape bodies—which are the bodies intended to grow gradually into third density and gradually into humanhood—by one of the guardians of your planet. It was felt that it was worth an experiment to see if the physical and mental capabilities of the great ape could be enhanced, therefore giving those entering humans far more of an opportunity to make progress in a rapid manner.
Here, however, there was a signal lack of awareness of precisely what the enhanced bodies and minds of the humans of early third density would do in reaction to these added enhancements. Imagine the dismay and the regret of that guardian whose name was Yahweh, when it was discovered that rather than seeking to become human, the entering entities of third density sought only to protect the clan, gather resources for the clan, and defend the clan against threat, the instinctual awareness of late second density.
Full text : https://assets.llresearch.org/transcripts/files/en/2009_1121.pdf

with the PC launch and multiple posts of people asking for advice, figured I'd try to give some general gameplay tips
Ghost Weapons
kunai-will instantly break the defense of and stun three enemies at base level, allowing you to directly attack their health, if used on enemy with no stagger damage remaining (as well as dogs) it will do damage to their health, from my observation about half of their health but this may vary based on difficulty level and progress through game/armor and charm loadout
sticky bomb-instantly knocks down and does damage to one enemy, knocks down and does less damage to enemies in proximity of sticked enemy (basically sticky grenade from halo that doesn't require aiming)
way of the flame-temporary sword effect, inflicts burning to enemies hit and ignores stagger health while active, directly attacking melee health this ghost weapon is earned in a mythic tale mission if you are avoiding spoilers
smoke bomb-instant staggers all enemies in radius of Jin, allowing you to assassinate or chain assassinate multiple enemies (do not sleep on the smoke bombs, took until my fourth playthrough to start using them and they're incredibly useful in an emergency)
every ghost weapon has at least one charm that will give it additional bonuses (for example, one charm gives you five kunai instead of three per throw) so don't ignore shrines
Stances- each stance does increased stagger damage to a specific enemy type and will do base stagger damage if you're not in the right stance (stone=sword, water=shield, Wind=spear, Moon=heavy)but light attacks are the same strength no matter the stance and melee damage stays the same no matter the enemy type and if you time your strikes properly after an enemy swings at you, you can completely ignore stagger damage, even if you missed the perfect dodge/parry window
damage/defense scale
GoT doesn't give direct numbers for it's defense stats, but the rankings of effectiveness of a stat goes
Minor
Major
Massive
Colossal
more general tips
I'd recommend doing the mythic tales as soon as you find them, as they always give a good bonus for completing them
focus more on stagger damage versus melee damage when given the choice between the two, especially on higher difficulties and in duels
if you're going for 100% do it your first run, because when you start a new game+ profile it resets all of your materials and undiscovered locations, so you'll need to do them all again for the achievement
when you're nearing the endgame and want to 100% undiscovered stuff, the guiding winds will show up on the map they're just hard to see, so teleport around until the guiding wind stops abruptly and you've found your location
some of this stuff might seem obvious to more experienced players but most of this I've had to explain to people before the PC release so figured it could be helpful for new players to know, hope you enjoy GoT as much as I have!

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

Me and my sister had something super not fun happen to us just a couple hours ago. I’m still kinda paranoid ngl.
My sister(F27) was driving me(F21) home after hanging out all day and going to the movies. I live out in the country so it’s about a 30 minute drive from the edge of town. We’re having a good time, windows rolled down and singing to some Britney Spears. We notice that the car behind us has been going the same way as us for quite a bit because they have absolutely blinding headlights.
We slow down and move over towards the shoulder so they can pass us. They also slow down and keep behind us. I start feeling nervous when they won’t go around us when we try to get them to pass. We thought about pulling off the road but there wasn’t really anywhere we could.
When we go through intersections, they slow down and copy our turn signal after we put it on and then blow through the light before it turns red. The same thing happens at the multiple four way stops it takes to get to my neighborhood. We have turned our music off at this point because the vibe was killed, we were almost certain we were being followed. The road before we turn off has a pretty high speed limit, so we turn on our turn signal as late as possible before turning. This person had to slam on their brakes so fast to turn that the car behind them had to go around to not crash.
So we get onto our road, which is a really big circle, we make a different turn and go around the circle backwards to how we usually get to my house. They are still behind us and copy our turn. We get about 5 minutes into the circle, about halfway through the neighborhood and my finger was hovering over the call button for my stepdad, who is at the house. The car turns off into a random driveway, but not all the way up to the house at the end. We keep driving and finish the loop at my house once we are absolutely positive we are no longer being followed.
We hung out for an hour or so and then my sister drove back to her house. I get a call when she gets back home, she saw the exact same vehicle with the same bright ass head lights, waiting on the grass off the side of the road kinda near a gas station, facing the direction of the oncoming traffic. They probably saw and heard us as we drove past because we had the windows down at the intersection.
TLDR: Followed for 40 minutes from town to the countryside and lost them. My sister was driving back after hanging out and saw them lurking by the road and watching oncoming traffic.

Name: Kole
Age: 21
Height: 6'1
Weight: 225 lbs.
Species: Unknown
Quote: "When in doubt, use excessive violence."
Background: Kole just kind of showed up in the multiverse one day, and no one really questioned it.
Physical Description: Kole is a Caucasian male with brown hair and dark purple eyes. He has several scars all over his body, including a large vertical slash on his chest and several cuts on his face.
Kole wears a purple hoodie, a dark blue shirt underneath, black pants, and brown combat boots. He also wears a pair of black fingerless gloves and a purple bandanna that he uses to hide his mouth area.
Powers/Abilities:
Superhuman Physical Characteristics
Flight
Teleportation
Telekinesis
Telepathy
Force Field Generation
Regeneration
Shape-shifting
Elasticity
Fire Manipulation
Ice Manipulation
Water Manipulation
Earth Manipulation
Plant Manipulation
Energy Manipulation
Electricity Manipulation
Air Manipulation
Toon Force
Time Stopping
Transmutation
Hammerspace (via hoodie pockets)
Arsenal (Standard):
Broadsword
Katana
Axe
Pickaxe
Spear
Bo Staff
Duel Hatchets
Bowie Knife
Switchblade
Shield
Mace
Pistol
Shotgun
AK-47
Rocket Launcher (different types of rockets will be covered lower down.)
Sniper Rifle
Grenades
Molotov Cocktails
Cryogenic Grenades
Poison Gas Grenades
Stink Bombs
Smoke Bombs
Electric Grenades
EMP Grenades
Sticky Grenades
Cluster Grenades
Hallucinogenic Grenades
Arsenal (Futuristic):
Blaster Pistol
Fireball Gun
Freeze Ray
Acid Sprayer
Charge Gun
Spread Gun
Homing Gun
Beam Rifle
Rockets (for Rocket Launcher):
Incendiary Rockets
Cryo Rockets
Electric Rockets
Homing Rockets
Splitting Rockets
Acid Rockets
Nuclear Rockets
Arsenal (Fictional):
Mega Buster
Keyblade
Master Sword
Various Minecraft Potions
Known Pokémon Moves:
Fire Blast
Electro Ball
Icicle Crash
Hydro Pump
Solar Beam
Hyper Beam
Shadow Ball
Dark Pulse
Fire Punch
Ice Punch
Thunder Punch
Bullet Punch
Mach Punch
Swords Dance
Iron Defense
Agility
Dragon Breath
Dragon Claw
Swift
Energy Ball
Feats:
Saved his world several times.
Can casually dodge lighting.
Dodged lasers with his back turned.
Destroyed a large chunk of a mountain.
Blew up a planet sized asteroid.
Alongside his sister, Autumn, destroyed an evil sentient star.
Comparable to Anthrax, who could destroy entirely galaxies.
Weaknesses:
Lacks any formal combat training.
Tends to underestimate his opponents.
Weapons can be stolen from him.
His hoodie is the source of his powers, meaning he will lose his powers when it is destroyed.
Usually rushes in, guns blazing.
(Sorry for the lack of art, but I can't draw to save my life.)

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

Hey everyone,
Mechanical Engineer here trying to spread my knowledge base. I've been learning Altium Designer and PCB design for the past month, and I'm encountering some challenges. I would greatly appreciate any feedback on my schematic, connections, and PCB layout. This project means a lot to me, and any help would be invaluable.
Project Overview:

• PCB Type: 4-layer PCB
• Key Components:
• nrf52840 Microcontroller
• nPM1100 Battery Charging IC & Power Management
• MAX77816 -Voltage regulator
• AO4882 MOSFET,
• TFT LCD display,
• BMP390 pressure sensor,
• USB-C charging.

Areas Where I Need Guidance:PCB Layout Optimization:

• Best practices for component placement and routing, especially for high current paths (up to 4.7A).
• General Layout help
• Effective use of power and ground planes for different voltage levels (3.3V, 5V, etc.).
• Managing thermal dissipation for components like voltage regulators and MOSFETs.

https://preview.redd.it/squwac28fb1d1.jpg?width=609&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9b292d68bc434dd2494af00a8174477ac6c31868

1. Schematic Review:
   • Overall feedback on the schematic design.
   • Ensuring proper decoupling and power integrity.
   • Suggestions for improving signal integrity and reducing noise.

https://preview.redd.it/dvs9by5peb1d1.jpg?width=1769&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f9e0dd26e8355097b8ee16d092238b447ca26ed6
Specific Issues:
https://preview.redd.it/pyfalx5peb1d1.jpg?width=1001&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=18dd68de81345bfff44a38542788c03413fcb924
I'm encountering design rule errors on nearly all of my passive components within their footprints. I tried checking the box that says "ignore clearances between the same footprint," but that didn't resolve the issue.
I discovered that the clearance constraint causing the issue is related to the copper to SMD pad clearance, which I had set to 0.09mm. I'm seeing copper in the middle of these footprints and am unsure why it's there or how to fix it.
Questions:

• What could be causing this copper to appear in the middle of my SMD footprints?
• How can I resolve these clearance issues effectively?

I'm a beginner and still learning the ropes, so any assistance would be amazing. I'm even willing to pay someone to help me get this designed. Thank you so much for your time and help!

Turn signals and hazard lights when turned on no longer flashes, it just stays on. - behind the dash I believe is where the flasher relay is. Any confirmation, and best way to have acces to it?

I built this computer in 2021 and it’s run fine up until last week when we had a storm and I pulled the plug without turning off the pc. The next day I boot it up and lights come on fans spin, but I get a no signal on my monitor. I tried the on board graphics and resetting the cmos. I then tried a different power supply it didn’t work. At this point I took it to a store to get them to check the power supply and to pin point the issue. I had a feeling it was the motherboard and that’s what the tech said three days later when I payed him 45 dollars after he rushed me out the door…. So I bought a similar motherboard a rig strip b550-f( I had the e before) hoping that if it wasn’t the issue I could just return it.
Well that didn’t work and it still won’t boot.
So what am I missing here? I’ve tried looking up videos and other posts, but a lot of what they suggest hasn’t worked for me.
With my limited experience I’d be tempted to think it could be the cpu or hard drives. I just don’t want to buy something if that’s not the problem. I’m going to borrow a video card in a few days to try that, but I don’t really have any other ideas
And the tech that looked at my computer just said that he assumes it was the motherboard so I don’t get the impression that he really knew for sure.
I don’t know I’m lost on this one.