The most I can remember about it is that there was a black creature took control of the body as a mystery point of the story (It was obvious when it did so, since the black tentically bits would be sticking out of whatever poor possessee's ears, mouth and eyes, spooky), and upon being cut by what looked like a silver spearhead would have the cut part turn to stone. After being possessed by the creature and subsequently saved, one of the characters is shown looking out of a window to a rather....cosmic horror-e looking sky (which it's implied is only visible to them). This is all I can really remember, and without a proper name I can't actually find it to try and read it again.

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?
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Lately I've been shocked by the difference between Palestinian messaging and how it is understood in the west. In their original 1988 charter, Hamas clearly lays out their goal of annihilating Israel and Jews through Jihad (Islamic Holy War).

'Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.' (Preamble)
'The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them. Then, the Jews will hide behind rocks and trees, and the rocks and trees will cry out: 'O Moslem, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him.' (Article 7)
'The day the enemies usurp part of Moslem land, Jihad becomes the individual duty of every Moslem. In the face of the Jews' usurpation, it is compulsory that the banner of Jihad be raised.' (Article 15)

The magnitude of this anti-Jew and anti-Israel ideology is such that it is a core part of Palestinian youth education and media. There are many examples, but here are just a few. The first two would be comical if they weren't so perverse and diabolical.
Farfour, the Hamas Mickey Mouse
Gazan Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony
Jews are barbaric apes
This propaganda has real-world effects. Dozens of Palestinian children are used as suicide bombers. I'd encourage people to read through this page if any.
Hamas's actions are in line with their stated aims. On October 7, Hamas and Gazan civilians can be seen celebrating over dead Israeli bodies. One video shows Gazans cheering, dancing, and spitting on dead naked Israeli woman, reflecting the fact that systemic rape on Oct 7 occurred. Over 70% of Palestinians support the actions on Oct 7. Hamas has promised to repeat Oct 7 again and again.
We also see this ideology reflected in the Palestinian Authority's "Pay for Slay", a fund that pays West Bank Palestinians a stipend for committing terrorism against Israel.
The point of sharing these things is not to demonize Palestinians or make any type of justification. The point is that in the west, we mistranslate this conflict into a framework that we comprehend and sympathize with. For most westerners, it's difficult to commiserate with religious fundamentalists and accept that they might want different things than we do (such as using billions of dollars in aid for terrorism instead of infrastructure). SJP would have you believe that Hamas wants to "decolonize" Palestine and Oct 7 was "resistance". Israel is the "white" oppressor, and Palestine is the oppressed--a framework we are all too familiar with. We assume that Hamas wants coexistence, when their words and actions have shown the opposite.
The "From the river to the sea" chant was created in the 60s and has historically been used by Hamas among other groups as a call to destroy Israel. A variation of the phrase in Arabic is "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be Arab". Yet in the west we associate the phrase with Palestinian "liberation", a concept that we can relate to. Consider the absurdity of someone waving a swastika and claiming that it's a Buddhist good fortune symbol. But this is essentially happening at colleges across the US, along with intifada chants. The war itself is a different topic--I just wanted to elucidate how westerners downplay the religious and ideological, despite Hamas themselves displaying their intent to destroy Israel and Jews.

Sharing my birth story because if I can do it, anyone can do it!
I should start by saying that I have extreme medical/ health anxiety and even just going for a regular appointment at my doctor’s office causes me distress.
I had a great pregnancy with almost no symptoms and felt so fortunate that it was generally easy for me until 40 weeks came and went with no sign of labour or my baby.
My hospital starts induction at 41+3, but my 41+3 was extremely busy for labour & delivery so I got bumped to 41+4. At 41+4, I was 1.5cm dilated and had my first dose of cervidil inserted, I was hopeful it would send me into labour but no luck, I had minor cramps though. At 41+5 I was 2cm dilated and got my second dose of cervidil and again had minor cramps. At 41+6 I had my third dose of cervidil and started having more substantial contractions overnight, and in the morning of 42w I had what I would consider severe cramps / contractions every 6ish minutes that lasted about 1 minute.
At 10:30am on 42w, I went back to the hospital to continue with my induction (I was really hoping that my cervix would be favorable for pitocin.) When I arrived at the hospital I was hooked up for NST monitoring, about 20 minutes into the test, I have a contraction and immediately several doctors and nurses rushed into the room, I didn’t realize what was happening but the babies heart rate dipped to the 60’s and they were preparing me for an emergency c-section. The babies heart rate did come back up so my doctor gave me a few minutes to decide whether I wanted a c-section but they recommended it because my baby may not have been able to tolerate additional contractions.
I went for a c-section right away, I managed to stay pretty calm (impressive for me because I’m the type of person who panics even having my blood pressure taken!) The procedure lasted maybe 40 minutes and my baby was out within 10 minutes! Seeing him for the first time was worth every scary thought I had. The worst part was actually the epidural, the freezing didn’t hurt but I did feel 4-5 pinches when the epidural was administered. I hated the epidural feeling of being numb but still aware of your body so I think I would have hated it for a long labour (which I was anticipating if I needed pitocin.)
Looking back, a c-section was less scary than the unknowns of labour and I’m happy with my outcome!
I’m happy to answer any questions about my 4 day induction or c-section!

My first week’s account seemed to land well so I will continue to share my journey as it is therapeutic for me and hopefully iof benefit to others. I am constantly surprised by the similarities in so many people’s journeys. On reflection that shouldn’t be such a surprise as we have a lot in common. Of note, I really enjoy reading about other people’s wins and equally their struggles.
In the week I also decided to share my writing with several close friends. These are people who I know in real life as well as from various personal development groups and programmes I am in and again I receive positive feedback from them which is always encouraging. I wonder about posting to my main FB feed or other small groups but for now that feels premature and although I have no shame about my actions part of me doesn’t want to invite the possibility of any negative comments even though the risk of that is low. In fact, not only do I NOT feel any shame, I am incredibly proud of where I have got to and central to that is me taking control of the situation and acting in my own best interests, not those of anybody else.
I am surprised on Monday around 5pm when what I take to be low grade food noise pipes up. I feel full enough and there is no real temptation to eat but I note its presence. Fifteen minutes later I rememberealise I haven’t actually eaten anything since 11:45 so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m feeling a little empty!! Questioning why I was hungry never crossed my mind. Go figure?! Solution, heat up my dinner and eat a little earlier than I planned. Job done and I feel full and satisfied.
My first significant side effect arrives later that evening. Marked tiredness hit me which also returned on Wednesday early evening accompanied by some mild dysphoria; not really food noise as such I was just a bit flat in mood. I was not particularly hungry but I did eat a few nuts whilst dinner was cooking; it settled.
Next morning (Thurs) normal service is resumed. I slept well, and awake bright and cheery. I realise that despite my positivity in the first 10 days, life still lifes and fluctuations in my mood are entirely normal and to be expected. Looking to the outside world to influence my mood is never going to work. Peace of mind comes from the inside out and that reminder of the Truth of how the system works is useful to me. I sit and meditate for 30 minutes before getting up and that again helps to ground me.
Interestingly this week the appetite suppression has continued for the full seven days as has the feeling full most of the time.
My 5mg pen has arrived safely and is sitting next to its friend in the fridge. I aim to go for five weeks on the 2.5mg based on my current progress but I am open to going with the flow and listening to my body. I am happy with my second week’s weight loss, another 1.5 kg. Down 5kg in 2 weeks and the 90s are in sight.

I'm just going to vomit all of my thoughts from this past week onto this thread. If this makes zero sense, I'm sorry. Also, this is long. I don't blame you if you don't read it. It's not like I deserve the time of day.
I just can't wait for the school year to be over. I don't dislike school, just everyone in it. Actually, I don't dislike them, i envy them. Thats a better word. I envy them because they dont have to be me. I dont have it hard or anything. Not to them. I try to be nice, i want to be nice. but it feels like my peers don't. they just have a good time using me as a punching bag. at least starting this Friday I'll have a solid 2 months of being able to work on impressing them before I come back. this year and last, I've been a court jester. this next year is my last year at this school before high school. I want to have a good last year. but i would also like to be more social, and that's hard enough.
I honestly don't understand how I've even got this many friends. I don't understand what they gain from being friends with me. If they don't enjoy being friends with me, they'd just tell me, right? I don't think I do them any favors being around them. but i feel annoying around anyone else. I do feel like the worst of my peers. they do all act and look better than me. and I'm not even me during school. I'd be quite the downer if I was. I try to be happy, but it feels forced. being social feels forced and stressful. if I don't know the person, I can legitimately not talk to them. not unless they're a teacher, or they talk to me first. but even if they do, I probably will only talk the bare minimum. I feel uncomfortable just being around anyone in general. I think I feel uncomfortable because I'm lowering other's perspective of them by being near them. Like a dump yard next to a mansion.
It doesn't help that I look roughly 3 years older than I actually am. I've had people tell me I look 16 before. That doesn't look good being surrounded by 12–14-year-olds. I remember specifically last year I was leaving the locker room, and someone said to me "You look like everything bad was made into one person." That stuck with me. Maybe I shouldn't have taken it to heart. But how can I not? Maybe I should focus more on what I think and less what others think. But I just can't do that. Even right now, I'm going to work on myself so that I fit in more. So that other people are nicer to me. I wish I wasn't fat. I really do. I work on it. I try and remember that if I don't need it to live, I shouldn't eat it. But I've gotten so used to eating when I was bored. When I was sad. As a reward. I would go to the fridge. I would get a haircut, but if it's bad, it's only going to provoke more. I'm getting one as soon as possible once school ends. at least if it's bad, it'll grow back a little by the time school lets back in. Nothing will fit with my face though. It's dumb, fatty, and I think it's one of the worse parts of my body. I've got glasses, though. They help round out my face a bit. I still don't look good, but at least I don't look as bad as I could. I also don't look at good as I could, but that's because I can't keep my mouth shut.
Maybe I should have a doctor sew my mouth shut. Maybe I should put my bed in front of my door so I can't take a break from scrolling to go eat. Managing my calories is hard. It shouldn't be, I'm just stupid. I'm also immature. I swear too much, I have a baby voice, and I always have spit in my mouth. I'm gross. I sweat too much and spit too much. Can I control it? No. but I'm not the victim here. I make everyone else the victim by being there. I'm only there because I'm forced to be there. I'd skip daily if I wasn't. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable by going up and talking to them. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable by sitting next to them on the bus when its full. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable by sharing a class with them. I don't want to be a discomforting person. Maybe isolation would be the best course of action. They'd make a classroom just for me to do online lessons in, alone. Probably an old janitor's closet. But I don't think I would be worth the effort. They'd label me unteachable and let me rot in bed at home.
I don't want to be negative. But I did it to myself, really, why didn't I just choose the good genetics? Why didn't I choose to never hunger? To digest food as fast as I bleed? To not sweat? To mature at the same rate as a normal 13-year-old? To be able to disregard any VERY helpful criticism I get? To smell like a field of roses? To be charming? To be attractive? To be normal?
To be honest, self-care doesn't make much sense to me. I don't deserve care to myself. I am to be treated the same as every other pig in the barn yard. If nobody would see it, what's the point? Genuinely. I need validation from my peers. Not that I've ever gotten it. It's human, right? That doesn't mean I need validation though. I'm lucky, though. They could've kicked my skull in the minute I walked through the door. I wouldn't blame them. Not like I could fight back. I'm about as weak as possible.
And that's what I've always been and will always be. The big, weak, ugly, loser that is to be hated. Because ignoring the abnormal will make them think they deserve to be near the fines. The best. The normal. I pity those that look like me, but not worse than me. Nobody could look worse than me. I don't deserve pity though. I deserve the pain that's come to me. I deserve worse, honestly. I'm lucky.

And first I want to preface this with: I agree the trans movement is needed. We have a not insignificant portion of the population that the current structure of society doesn't/didn't take into account. And it was/is super valid and necessary for trans people to draw attention to themselves, say "Hey, we are here. We exist. And we need to be implemented into society properly."
Right, like I am all on board for that and recognize/support the need for the movement.
That said.. there's some things I think they have wrong and I'm gonna say them here. If it's not welcome, tell me and I'll delete it. And bear with me, I'm human and imperfect as well.

1. Conflation of Gender and sex
2. Self Identification/ inability to define
3. The necessity of gender affirming surgery

and I'll talk about each of those in more depth

1. Conflation of gender and sex. So, I am super on board with the idea that gender and sex are 2 different things. However it seems to me that the trans movement at large tends to state that... but then still conflate the two and/or completely disregard sex.

For example if you have a male who is a woman, and then people start saying she's female. Like... no. She's a woman who's a male. And that's perfectly ok. But if you're a male, you're not a female.
The second part of that is the disregarding of sex. Sometimes in society we find it beneficial to separate things by category. Sometimes age, sex/gender, weight, etc. But it used to be sex/gender together. Now that we increasingly recognize that they are separate things.. we need to figure out when the proper category for separation is gender.. and when it's sex. Not gender. The trans movement seems to look at everything that was once separated by sex/gender as a singular construct and now say that the basis for separation on all those things is gender. But I think sometimes it's sex.
For example, sports are potentially one of those things that should be separated by sex. Not by gender. Prisons maybe another one.

1. Self identification/ inability to define People self identifying themselves and the inability to provide any types of coherent definitions of male, female, man, woman, etc.. is an issue.

And understandably.. lines get fuzzy and blurry and things get grey. But we can't just say "well a woman is anyone that says that they are, and then they are allowed into places reserved for only women, etc" Right, if I'm 6'2" 240lbs, muscular, hairy, crew cut, bearded person with an 8 inch penis that's sexually attracted to vagina and wears jeans and flannel.. I shouldn't be allowed to use the women's changing room.
If I'm going to identify as a woman, and claim that identity to the public, there is some standard towards the concept of "woman" that needs to be met.
Which is.. hard. But it's a discussion we need to be having. I think it's better to start with what "isn't" instead of what "is" and work backward from there.
For example between Car and Truck is a whole spectrum of different vehicles that you kinda classify either way. Jeeps and vans and El caminos. It get's complicated. But no matter how complicated it can get.. a ford taurus isn't a truck.

1. The necessity of gender affirming surgery Another preface: It is certainly the case that there are children who would benefit from gender affirming hormone treatment and surgery and the benefit would compound the earlier the treatment was administered. It is ALSO certainly the case that there are children who will be greatly harmed by that. I DO NOT trust the current institutions responsible for that screening to do their jobs properly and I think there's sufficient evidence to support that. And I think that largely comes from both ideological pressure to view things a particular way and additionally the financial incentives. But I won't go too far down that. (I do think an EASY solution is to make providers of gender affirming care, in the case of people under 18, more easily open to litigation and financial responsibility. Like.. you approve as much gender affirming care to kids as you assess necessary, but if you're wrong too often you'll be bankrupt and broke. The approvers need skin the game.)

But I think something the trans movement has very fundamentally wrong.. is pushing the need to for gender affirming treatments. I think the fundamental change we should be pushing for.. is saying.. hey it's perfectly ok to be a male, with a penis who is woman and wears dresses and has long hair. Normalize a wider range of gender expression on different bodies. And teach people that "You are perfectly ok just the way you are. You do not need to change anything about your body."
It's almost disgusting to me the way I hear many trans activists talk about gender affirming surgery being like removing a cancer or something. We need to teach people to love themselves as they are and then if they WANT, not NEED, they can pursue some treatment on top of that. But allowing the idea that some people NEED to have surgery and hormones for their body to be acceptable is not something we should be encouraging in society. Especially kids.

19m, dad is understandingly a helicopter parent (due to rising dangerous neighborhoods). He also owns a business with 1 employee. Employee left and 8 stepped up (to carry on the business eventually). No complaints, I knew what I was getting into. Brother has mental issues and would often not come home from work (starts from 6am-ish to 7pm-ish) until late evenings/nights (9pm-1am), and wouldn't answer his phone. Dad confronts but tolerates for a while (depending on how late). Gets mad at me for "hanging out too much with friends (2 times within 1 week, 4 hours out of house, and always open communications). Now I rarely go out (1 time every month) with anyone anymore. Focused on house work (roof, garage, property, etc) and eventually got a cool ride (70's square body truck), however, in my dads name since he had the money. Whatever. Family built the engine, sat for a year. I had the initiative to get it running, now it runs. Brother had bought a car, now it just sits in garage "because it needs parts/tune." Whatever. Meanwhile, mom chills at home (stay at home mom role) but it seems like everyday there's an attitude problem. Whatever. Recently we got a other car (70's muscle car) and Dad said he felt bad for my brother because he couldn't get his running (in reality, he doesn't work on it). I wanted that car, at the time, I agreed with dad. However, now that "the family is working on it," I'm laying under the car realizing I'm doing pretty much all the work. Carburetor, washing the engine, vacuuming, cleaning, doing shocks, gas tank, linkages, etc. What is my brother doing to help? "....."
Is it me, or am I just under a lot of stress at the momentm It feels like I'm just being used without any real appreciation.

1. Starting with a clean and dry surface, spray Wonder Lace Bond Adhesive Spray 2-4 inches away from hair onto the hairline or desired area. 2. Allow to air dry until tacky or use a blow dryer on cool setting; repeat the process for 2-3 times to ensure a secure hold. 3. Once tacky, apply the lace as you would and tie down. Allow to sit for 10-15 minutes. 

For me, it took some time, probably because I was expecting the wrong thing. I had first heard of Swans about 2 1/2 years ago because Napalm Death have cited them as an influence. I went into Filth expecting fast hardcore or something, and that was NOT what I heard. I didn't hate it, but it didn't do much for me at the time, however, I listened to it while playing the Mafia remake (set in Great Depression era New York) and it kind of fit the vibe, which makes sense. For some reason, I kept listening, I moved onto Cop, Greed/Holy Money, and Children of God. When I heard Children of God I thought the soft songs were the band making fun, because I basically saw them as almost a joke band, like Anal Cunt or something.
Fast forward to about a week after The Beggar came out. I heard that it was vastly different than what I'd already heard, and my view of the band at this point as a bit less shallow. I listened to it, but it didn't click either, I kept checking the time on The Beggar Lover going "fuck, when will it be over?" Basically, I still didn't like it, but I still was intrigued by the band as a whole for some reason.
A few months later, I revisited the 80s stuff, and I enjoyed it more than last time. In fact, I enjoyed it enough to where after I finished Children of God, I continued. I went into The Burning World knowing that it was a commercial failure, and that Michael Gira detests the album. It was okay, but not great. I wasn't deterred, I kind of knew it wasn't gonna be a very Swansy experience, but I thought it would be interesting to hear anyway, from a historical standpoint.
I went on to White Light, and it was a lot better. It was what The Burning World should've been. I didn't like Love of Life as much, but it was still decent. I decided to listen to The Great Annihilator while I was playing the first Red Dead Redemption, and it fit that in a strange way that I can't explain.
Soundtracks was a different experience in a good way. I put it off for a bit due to the length, but I enjoyed the whole thing. It probably helped that there were 26 songs, most of which were a normal length, instead of The Beggar's 11 (I think?) songs. Around this time, I also decided to watch the Where Does A Body End? documentary, which gave a lot of insight on the band, and cemented my love for them.
Since then I've listened to 2010 long name album, all three trilogy albums, and read Sacrifice and Transcendence. 2010 long name album was decent, but felt like a test, like the band didn't know if it would work out. The Seer was freaky, both in the ooga booga way and the sex way, To Be Kind was groovy, with some freaky parts, and some of it made me think of Tool (that's a compliment,) and The Glowing Man was peaceful sounding. I haven't heard Leaving Meaning yet, but once I do I'm gonna relisten to The Beggar as well with new ears.
Swans diversified my music taste a lot, they were my gateway out of the extreme metal rabbit hole I was in for so long, and while I still listen to that stuff, I'm still thankful to Swans for what they've done for me.

OK - here it is - all of it.
Internet was perfectly fine until 4-5 months ago. I have a home-business (WFH in Tech, My own Company) - I have the highest plan $120 dollars/month. I live in Sunnyvale, CA.
My downloads go from 1200 mbps/45 Upload --- to 200 mbs and ZERO (yes zero) from 6 PM to 2 PM - on most days without fail, which has been happening consistently for over 3 months.
I've called Customer Service countless of times (take a wild guess what they do and say):
- Reset Modem, yada yada - like the internet isnt a crucial part of modern society and somehow we're all seniors (Im 42)
They have sent TWO techs to my home:

• First Tech: Super friendly and nice, did everything he could, however, the internet promptly went to crap -- he did tell me there's "Noise" in the line, and there should be escalated.
  
• Second Tech: HORRIBLE, cussed at me, was annoyed at his work/comcast/Xfinity - didn't even want to enter the home, to check for issues, told me to just "Credit" the account and keep doing that until they get a "resolution" - fought with me and was incredibly unprofessional I had to record the whole interaction (and I have it on video - including his license plate)
  

Then was referred to a man named "Too" - which gave me his phone number, told me they were "Re-wiring" my "Whole area" - and that it would take two days.
Its been 3 and a half weeks.
I cannot submit my work at night, download my software builds, work in general specially since software is constantly pinging the cloud to see if its "legal" these days, so I keep getting disconnected and since I have no internet, my software keeps saying to "SAVE" because the service keeps dropping out.
I want to be ABSOLUTELY CLEAR HERE --- I cannot Work, at all.
I've mentioned this to Xfinity a million times, this is why I have the higher package, and this is why I pay $120 dollars every month (and going up more every year - $15 this year more) I drop video-calls all the time, I'm starting to worry about my own Job security - thanks to the poor and declining service I get - and yet, I get no refund, and I get no resolution to my issue.
So change right?
Unfortunately, NO ONE has internet in my area, and Comcast/Xfinity has overbid all providers.

Fucking tgirls
DL M 150 6'0 7" bbc with girth 24 years old long story I usually use this page to jerk so I might aswell help out 100% real life
I fucked my first tranny at 18 I used to jerk off to a lot of porn from a young age and even got to shemale porn. I lost my virginity to a girl but I was just very horny at that age one day downloaded Grindr scrolled for a while but got distracted went and got high at a friends house and took a few shots aswell hanging out with buddies. I went to the bathroom opened my phone opened Grindr and saw a pretty Latina tgirl and I messaged her. Not a long convo she gave me an address and I left my friends telling them I'm done for the night. I pick up the tranny and she has a tight skirt on smooth thighs and nice ass I was already getting hard leaving her apartment. I park up in the next apartment and we hop in the back seat I already have a completely hard dick cause to me I basically had Jane Marie in the back of my car with me. She is playing with my dick sucking it getting her lipstick everywhere but she keeps answering her phone I think it was her boyfriend calling her. I see her ass and decided to fuck but between the condom and it being my first time I keep getting soft and she is too tight for my soft dick. I stop focusing on her asshole and just feel her body her soft ass and her nice hair with blonde streaks. I get hard and inside and her moans got me so hard I fuck the shit outta her she moans load as hell.(she keeps stopping to text this man in all caps and in Spanish ). After wards I take her to McDonald's and I wasn't even shy at the window cause she looked like a girl so much She gave me her number but I lost it never went back at that time I didn't know how much of a gem she was lol
My second time was off of Grindr again this time a older tranny she was also Latina but heavier then me big ass and tits and she was older 40+ hopefully not 60 lol. I fucked her the first time for free but after I got her number she kept making me pay but I liked her so used to never mind. One time she didn't answer her number and I was so horny I knocked on her door she opened it and said No! I pointed at my pocket I got money and she was mad but let me in. I followed her into the kitchen she was cooking and I put 60$ on her table and started grabbing her ass pulling out my dick and kissing her neck like usual. She said no fuck. I kept kissing her neck and then her mouth she kept saying no fuck I was very hard and she felt it on her ass . I start sucking her big tits doing anything to get her horny and she pushes my head down to her ass I never ate ass before. I had no choice started kissing it and got my tounge in there eventually got really into it and started jerking until I came on her kitchen floor she played in my cum with her feet and then rubbed it all over my clothes I licked her feet she was so experienced she knew exactly what she was doing I stood up kissed her so hard and really just hugged her I still miss that one
Over the years I used some escort websites to find some but I never paid over 100$ I make sure when I'm talking on the phone I flirt with them calling them baby so they get interested and in person I give them a little cash and start the process quick and most of them fold cause I'm in pretty good shape or they wanna smoke some weed with me if I offer them. I've done it probably like 5 times.
Last story I was in Chicago for work not my home state . I found a black tranny online and went to her hotel. I was very high smoked right before I went to her so I was on edge very paranoid of any funny business and Chicago is a rough city.I found her in the lobby and I was surprised she kinda looked like a girl. We get to her room and I give her 40$ and try to grab her ass make her horny she denies me and tells me 200$. No way was I paying that so I just keep flirting trying to make her horny and she is hard to beat keeps touching my pockets. She had a school girl skirt on while sitting on the wall of the bed she lifts her skirt up. I see a floppy 7 inch black cock with shaved pubeses and a belly ring on a flat stomach. I slowly dive across the bed and for the first time suck a dick she knew exactly what she was doing after only 30 seconds she pushed me off and says she wants her money. I hop off the bed and my dick somehow was already out. I start jerking watching her and when she sees my big dick she starts stroking herself. Seeing her finally get horny I automatically cum. I zip up and leave cause I didn't trust this bitch and I heard something in the bathroom of the room I forgot to check. I literally came so hard across the room though she was like omg .

I move toward it and I put my thumbs under its arm pits and pull it out of the pile of crates it was under. I pulled it to the center of the room and check over where the missing arm was attached and then rolled it over to check the power supply and main processor unit to ensure it’s still intact.
As I leave the cargo area I yell for the mech() to come and see if it can get the synth put back together and powered on. I go towards my quarters praying that it’s still intact and my gear isn’t damaged. I start to slow down as I approach the door and hold my hand out to see if I can feel any heat coming off the door. Once I make sure it isn’t hot I lean in close to see if I can hear anything that might have made its way inside from any of the exposed parts of the ship. Once I’m satisfied that I’m not hearing anything moving around I start to pry the door open. After about a minute the doors finally give way and slide open and lock, I enter with my gun at the ready slowly scanning the room taking everything in making sure nothing is hiding in the dark corners. I sign in relief to see that nothing made it into the room and I move towards a footlocker at the foot of my bed, once I’m there I put my hand on the palm scanner to unlock it and pull out the combat suit and rifle that was stored.
After about ten minutes of messing with the suit, it was finally on and sealed, I grabbed the helmet and it started to sync to the suit once I dawned it. I went through the sensor calibrations and finished searching the ship for any possible intruders. I made sure there were no other breaches and nothing else in the ship, from there I started to move back to the cargo bay to see if the synth is repairable or scrap. To my surprise I saw the synth moving when I entered the room, well the head at least, it seems that the only damage was the torn limb and some gashes on its body.
I kneeled down to talk to the synth for a few minutes to make sure its processor or memory unit wasn’t damaged, I inquired to see how long it would take for both it and the droid the be able to start repairs on the ships haul. I inform them that the client probably doesn’t care if we use the fabricator or any of the other supplies we were transporting and having a sealed place to sleep and possible power would be nice for the upcoming night. I looked at the droid and the synth and explained that I will be stepping away to recon our crash site and see what might be in the immediate area, hopefully there’s some no hostile life on this planet because if not it’s going to be a pain in the ass.
I start making my way to the exit hatch on the top of the ship, when I get to the bottom of the ladder I stop and stare at the hatch praying it isn’t jammed shut. I drop the rifle so it catches on its sling and start to climb, with one arm hooked around the bar I use my other to twist and open the hatch. As the hatch pushes up and over it lets in a soft morning light, and the sounds of animals and insects. I slowly pop my head out doing a slow 360 to take in the immediate surroundings and once it’s clear I pull myself out and close the hatch locking it. I start walking across the top of the ship to check on some of the haul to see how badly it was damaged, and surprisingly it’s not in bad shape, minus the giant hole in the cargo area.
As I jump down I hear something big moving in the forest to the left, and as I start to head that direction I hear what sounds to be a scream from a human to the right. I pivot and bring my gun to the ready and start moving towards the screams, hoping that what ever I’m walking away from doesn’t decide to follow the screams also.

Hi,
I was recently rear-ended. Thankfully my spouse and I are okay. Our 2018 BMW car sustained some bumper and taillight damage. State Farm (the other parties insurance) offered $600 after sending in images, which is very low. They requested only two images from far away and their quote missed the taillight and some damage.
I found a highly rated shop. The owner quoted $3,500 for parts and labor, right around what a family friend from out of state (which works in a body shop) quoted over video call. The owner mentioned they are not a direct repair facility. He said I should expect the repair cost to be higher if they find additional damage and that it would be out of pocket. He did mention he would be happy to provide supplemental documents of what else is fixed.
I’m not sure what to do. I declined State Farm’s $600 offer, but they are now sending me a check via mail. Should I request that State Farm completes another estimate based off more than two images? If additional damage is found, shouldn’t State Farm handle this cost? It seems like it would be my role to request this from them, since the shop doesn’t work directly with them. What would my recourse be if they declined it? I was considering getting additional quotes from other shops as well, but that obviously won’t help me determine what the supplemental cost could be.
Thank you very much in advance. This is my first accident so I am very uninformed in these matters.

"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.

The guy who tried to kill me walked into my work today after a decade
It’s been a decade since I left a highly abusive ex. I never thought I’d have to see him again until he walked into my work. I’m so angry that I had to leave my station because seeing him brought back everything he did to me.
It started off as the usual pattern. He started becoming controlling then the insults came, it escalated from there. He would scream how I was worthless, a stupid fucking b, pathetic, no one would ever love me, the whole 9 yards.
Then came the punching of walls beside me as I would be crying for him to stop screaming at me.
I lost my virginity to him which was a horrible experience. It really hurt when we started and when I voiced that, he just said it’s going to hurt while going harder. My head kept hitting the couch and he didn’t care nor stop.
I would try everyday to say the right things and behave a certain way in order to not make him angry. I often failed.
One day we got into a fight because I had embarrassed him in front of his friend. They had came over my house where he immediately raided my fridge for alcohol and went to the Tv to play games where he completely ignored me the whole time. I was clearly upset, that’s how I embarrassed him - by being upset. We went into my room when we started to fight. He put his hands around my neck to chock me. I stepped closer daring him to do it, I had snapped, he let go and started crying. I ended up comforting him. That was the usual pattern, me making him feel better about his actions.
Then it escalated one night when I went to pick him up. I was upset because I had to drive 40 min to get him. He made me feel shitty that I was tired from work and wanted to hang out a different day. When I picked him up he was quiet as I told him my frustrations when I was done talking he had said nothing. I could feel the panic as he didn’t say a word and was completely still. We were on the highway going 75 at this point. He slowly reached over putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on the steering wheel. He started screaming right beside my face telling me how I’m a stupid fucking b. That’s the only thing I remember him saying, I just remember his cold spit hitting my face and the car starting to veer off the road where my survival instant came in. He didn’t care what was about to happen, he was ready for both of us to crash. I started screaming for him to let go of the wheel and started hitting him for him to let go. I had never put hands in anyone in my life nor have it since. He finally let go before we went completely off the road. Then he started punching the car continuing his tirade. I kept driving, just frozen. That was Valentine’s Day.
There’s so much more that happened in between and more that happened afterwards. The whole relationship left me traumatized for a long time. It took time to heal and work through it all. The hardest part was forgiving myself for staying so long. I have healed and put it behind me. Until today.
I didn’t even realize it was him until he did a motion when I asked if he needed help. I recognized it immediately then I registered who he was. It all came rushing back and got fully triggered. I had to immediately step away and told my manager I needed someone to cover my post because someone was in the building that I couldn’t be around. All the employees are all on radios. He asked me why and I just word vomited that it was because he tried to kill me. Which now, I’m horrified I said it for everyone to hear because I’m a very private person. My manager came to me immediately and asked me who he was and what he was wearing so he could kick him out. I couldn’t answer what he was even wearing at all, all that came to mind was his cold spit on my face.
We started to walk to the room where the cameras are so I could point him out when I saw him walking our way. My manager and I got into the room for me to stay. When he was going to tell him to leave, he had be lined to the door because he knew what was about to happen.
I’m so angry. I’ve long moved on and I’ve had a great loving life since that time in my life. I’m angry that he still had the ability to trigger me after all of these years. I’m angry my body reacted to him and my body went to a trauma response. I’m thankful that I work in a place where everyone is supportive but the embarrassment is hard to swallow at the moment.
Trauma is hard and complicated. Thank you for letting me share.
Edit: spelling

The guy who tried to kill me walked into my work today after a decade
It’s been a decade since I left a highly abusive ex. I never thought I’d have to see him again until he walked into my work. I’m so angry that I had to leave my station because seeing him brought back everything he did to me.
It started off as the usual pattern. He started becoming controlling then the insults came, it escalated from there. He would scream how I was worthless, a stupid fucking b, pathetic, no one would ever love me, the whole 9 yards.
Then came the punching of walls beside me as I would be crying for him to stop screaming at me.
I lost my virginity to him which was a horrible experience. It really hurt when we started and when I voiced that, he just said it’s going to hurt while going harder. My head kept hitting the couch and he didn’t care nor stop.
I would try everyday to say the right things and behave a certain way in order to not make him angry. I often failed.
One day we got into a fight because I had embarrassed him in front of his friend. They had came over my house where he immediately raided my fridge for alcohol and went to the Tv to play games where he completely ignored me the whole time. I was clearly upset, that’s how I embarrassed him - by being upset. We went into my room when we started to fight. He put his hands around my neck to chock me. I stepped closer daring him to do it, I had snapped, he let go and started crying. I ended up comforting him. That was the usual pattern, me making him feel better about his actions.
Then it escalated one night when I went to pick him up. I was upset because I had to drive 40 min to get him. He made me feel shitty that I was tired from work and wanted to hang out a different day. When I picked him up he was quiet as I told him my frustrations when I was done talking he had said nothing. I could feel the panic as he didn’t say a word and was completely still. We were on the highway going 75 at this point. He slowly reached over putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on the steering wheel. He started screaming right beside my face telling me how I’m a stupid fucking b. That’s the only thing I remember him saying, I just remember his cold spit hitting my face and the car starting to veer off the road where my survival instant came in. He didn’t care what was about to happen, he was ready for both of us to crash. I started screaming for him to let go of the wheel and started hitting him for him to let go. I had never put hands in anyone in my life nor have it since. He finally let go before we went completely off the road. Then he started punching the car continuing his tirade. I kept driving, just frozen. That was Valentine’s Day.
There’s so much more that happened in between and more that happened afterwards. The whole relationship left me traumatized for a long time. It took time to heal and work through it all. The hardest part was forgiving myself for staying so long. I have healed and put it behind me. Until today.
I didn’t even realize it was him until he did a motion when I asked if he needed help. I recognized it immediately then I registered who he was. It all came rushing back and got fully triggered. I had to immediately step away and told my manager I needed someone to cover my post because someone was in the building that I couldn’t be around. All the employees are all on radios. He asked me why and I just word vomited that it was because he tried to kill me. Which now, I’m horrified I said it for everyone to hear because I’m a very private person. My manager came to me immediately and asked me who he was and what he was wearing so he could kick him out. I couldn’t answer what he was even wearing at all, all that came to mind was his cold spit on my face.
We started to walk to the room where the cameras are so I could point him out when I saw him walking our way. My manager and I got into the room for me to stay. When he was going to tell him to leave, he had be lined to the door because he knew what was about to happen.
I’m so angry. I’ve long moved on and I’ve had a great loving life since that time in my life. I’m angry that he still had the ability to trigger me after all of these years. I’m angry my body reacted to him and my body went to a trauma response. I’m thankful that I work in a place where everyone is supportive but the embarrassment is hard to swallow at the moment.
Trauma is hard and complicated. Thank you for letting me share.