Hi SpongeBob my life used to be so good when I would watch you on Nickelodeon for hours on end as a kid. I didn’t have a worry in the world back then, those where the days grandma would pick me up from school on Friday to spend the weekend we would order a pizza and I would fall asleep on the couch laughing and smiling at your funny life while munching down on yummy pizza. Now I’m a crippling alcoholic , my grandmother had a stroke that crippled her and she has dementia so she can barely remember me. I’m already starting to lose hair. I can’t afford pizza and my stomach can’t handle it anyways because of all the drinking I’ve been doing. I spend most of my days alone in my room watching tik toks that I forget about, all my friends moved away and I never made it to college. I spend all day making pizza SpongeBob why did you ABaNDOn me whyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!

I posted about this horrible experience I had with a stylist that has over 30 years of experience. My mom went to her and her hair looked nice so my mom suggested that I give her a chance. I’m currently disabled and my mom offered to pay for the service as a gift to me. I’m not working and have no income. I didn’t want to go to a place that was going to charge me an arm and a leg, however I knew what I wanted would be around $200 at this cheap salon called Smart Style. I had gone there last year in October, I had shoulder length, virgin hair at the time. I told the girl I wanted to be blonde but I didn’t want an all over bleach job where every single strand of hair is bleached. That’s what I used to do when I had a chin length bob, and it was fine cus my hair takes bleach very well but I was also constantly cutting it, keeping the ends looking nice and healthy. So the girl at the same cheap salon did an all over highlight with foils and it turned out really beautiful. I know she used over 100 foils for this service. I know costs have gone up as well so I sat down and talked with this new stylist for over 30 minutes about what I wanted. I had about 4 inches of regrowth and wanted my roots blended to the rest of my hair. But I showed a picture of a balayage and said I wanted it to look somewhat like the picture just more platinum. She kept trying to save me money, I never asked her to do that. I kept saying my last service cost $140 and I’m expecting to pay that or maybe more since I know costs went up. I don’t think this lady knew how to do a balayage to be honest but she wouldn’t just come out and say that so she kept pushing foils. I eventually said ok to that. She did 20 foils for my thick ass hair and only did the front and around the sides leaving the back completely untouched. She sent me home and it looked really bad. I’d say she did 25% maybe 30% of my roots but she only did these tiny little strands, no slices at all. last girl did thick strands and slices all over. i told her it needs to be fixed and that i would pay extra to get what I want, she said no its free. i asked about the balayage technique again and she eventually said yes we can but in the future. She then went in an painted some thicker strands with no foils. The end result is in the pictures above. There were orange pieces from not letting it process enough, a band, and super patchy pieces in pic 5 that looks absolutely horrible when I put my hair up in a bun (which is how I wear my hair 70% of the time). I posted this in my home towns subreddit. I guess I didn’t go into too much detail as I did here and everyone told me I was basically stupid and I get what I pay for. What I’m trying to get across is that I was willing to pay over $200 to have my roots touched up properly but was constantly denied. What you see in the pics cost $91 even though I kept saying I’ll pay more to get what I want. First picture was my reference pic but I asked for it to just be more platinum and match the color I already have. I then agreed to the foils but they started charging so much for them that I kept asking her what we should do going forward. Even if the answer was foils I kept asking her to do enough of them and kept asking for a price but never got one.
What should I ask for going forward when it comes to getting my roots done??? How much should roots cost? I don’t want my whole head of hair just root maintenance. I know this is a small town but this is so unprofessional. I asked the owner for a refund and they are refusing. I’m pretty devastated about it cus it looks so bad. I went and got some bleach and wella T-18 toner to try to fix some pieces myself. Is this worth suing over???

Naturally I have medium blonde hair but I’ve been coloring my hair black for years now. I’d like to grow out my natural color as it would be healthier for my hair and more cost effective. How can I do this without looking like I’m balding?? 😂 I also recently cut my hair into a shoulder length bob because I was growing out a double side shave and I hated having such different lengths of hair.

About 10 months ago I got a bit of a chemical cut on the top layer of my hair from over bleaching. It was previously mid-chest. I’ve since had it cut to a bob and been going for trims every 2 months to take an inch off the bottom.
My main goal was for the top layer to get closer to the bottom layer and eventually be chin length, something I expected to happen around September time as I had about 2 inches to go. I’ve spent a fortune on k18 and while the ends of the top layer weren’t the best condition they also weren’t the worst- there was no stretchiness, not many split ends (I did have them trimmed) and they would lay smooth with a small amount of leave in conditioner.
Today I go for a cut at a new place as I’ve moved into a new city, asked for an inch off the bottom only and said please don’t touch the layers. The stylist started cutting the layers and I raised concerns- I was told it was a tiny amount of split ends. She kept going at them for a while and I raised concerns two more times before she stopped and dried my hair.
I am heartbroken. The top layer is shorter than it was 3 months ago and it’s set me back so far. I’m going to have to feel like I look like shit for another 3 months on top of the time I was already going to have to wait until September. The main goal was to get the two layers to be the same length by growing the top and trimming the bottom. Now they’re further apart and I can’t stop crying. I hate it so much and I just want my hair to feel like myself again.
I know this is probably silly but I had such a rough year last year, recovering from a traumatic incident and then being in between jobs - so I bleached it myself to save money which caused the damage. I’ve been working my butt off to bring my life and finances back on track and am finally getting somewhere and kind of saw my hair getting back to something I felt confident in as a symbol of that recovery.
Extensions aren’t an option as my hair is half brunette half blonde in a sort of ombré while the bleach grows out, and I don’t want to dye it at all.
I don’t know how to feel okay about it. I’m absolutely gutted at the setback in my growth journey.

When I was ten, I formed a junior detective squad.
Mom bought me the entire box set of What's New Scooby Doo, and I was inspired to start my very own detective gang. I held auditions outside the gymnasium at recess (serious enquiries only) after a number of kids tried to apply for the role of Scooby Doo despite me reiterating I was not interested in playing make believe.
When I was laughed at in class, I made posters strictly asking for SERIOUS wannabe detectives, even going as far as using my Mom’s printer to make flyers, sticking them all over the school.
Auditions were simple. I asked them to solve a simple riddle.
Whoever impressed me got to sign their name down, and I’d get back to them.
I spent three days sifting through kids who definitely had charm, but they lacked the intelligence of a junior detective. Most kids were only auditioning to make fun of me, anyway.
Still, though, I didn't give up.
My flyers had five requirements:
1). You had to be smart.
2). You were not allowed to be a scaredy cat.
3). You had to accept your inevitable death at the hands of our town’s evil villains.
4). You had to have a fully registered driving licence (I quickly changed this to a bike).
5). You cannot have a criminal record.
(I later scribbled this one out, writing over it. *“You cannot have any tardies.”
Narrowing the applicants down to three kids, all of whom failed to share my enthusiasm for solving cases. The kids I picked didn't even know how to make plans, and when I invited them to my house, they stole my Mom’s necklace.
I didn't even need to solve the mystery of who stole Mom’s necklace. The girl was wearing it at school. I punched her in the face, and was immediately sent to the principal’s office. When I was being given the mother all lectures, the door quietly opened, a head peeking through.
It was Ben Callows, a freckly kid with overgrown brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ben really needed a haircut.
He was always wearing the exact same baseball cap, and I found myself wondering if it was permanently glued to his head, stuck on top of unruly brown curls practically matted to his forehead.
In class, Ben was also known as Bloody Ben. In the second grade, the boy had a nosebleed in the middle of a spelling test, bleeding all over his paper.
It's not like he didn't try and detach himself from the name.
Ben brought in Digimon cards, so kids would call him Digimon Ben instead.
Then he “accidentally” spilled yoghurt down his shirt in hopes we would call him Yoghurt Ben. But no. The kids in our class were relentless in reminding him of his name. No matter what he did, he was still Bloody Ben, and when anything related to blood came up in class, fifteen pairs of eyes would swivel to him, like he had invented the concept of bleeding.
I feared the nickname would follow him to junior high.
Ben didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even knock, striding in with his arms folded. Over the years, Bloody Ben, had definitely soured his personality.
He smiled rarely, and when he did smile, someone was falling over or hurting themselves.
Which definitely strengthened the claims of him being a sociopath.
The rumor mill was churning, with the latest claiming Bloody Ben killed his cat. That wasn't true. Ben’s cat was seventeen with cancer, and that was why he was sobbing all the way through reading time.
According to Ellie Daly, however, Ben had killed and dissected his kitty, and buried her in his Mom’s flowers.
Now, my principal did not like being interrupted, especially when she was in the middle of screaming at me.
Principal Marrow was old old (like, thirty, in my ten year old mind) stick thin like a pencil, and always wore the same stained sweater.
She used to be pretty, but I was convinced she had kissed a frog and been cursed. After our old principal suffered a stroke, she stepped in as a temporary replacement, and since becoming principal, had banned my favorite book series, colored shoe laces, and hamburger helper, even officiating a uniform.
(vomit green shorts and a tee, and plain white sneakers).
Kids were convinced she was a witch, and I kind of believed it.
Principal Marrow’s whole existence was built on sucking the fun out of school.
I was already reprimanded for my mystery gang flyers.
Her office smelled of peppermint and she was definitely sneaking sips of whisky in her coffee cup. I could see the bottle sticking out of the trash.
She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest, squinty eyes narrowing at the boy. I had spent the whole time she was lecturing me trying not to cry, my fists bunched in my lap.
I took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to swipe at my eyes, allowing myself to breathe.
Ben Callows was her victim now.
I was right. The woman's voice was like a thunderclap in my ears.
“You better have a good reason for not knocking, young man.”
Ben wasn't fazed by her tone. “You took my Switch two weeks ago,” he said, “I want it back, or I’m telling my Mom.”
At first, I thought I'd misheard him.
No, I was pretty sure he'd threatened our principal.
I swore I heard all of the breath sucked from the room.
“I'm sorry,” Principal Marrow cleared her throat. Her soft tone was dangerous.
She wasn't being nice. The lady was about to explode.
I could see visible veins straining in her temples, her right eye twitching.
It was straight out of a cartoon.
“Did you forget something, Ben?”
Ben sighed, like she was inconveniencing him.
He held out his hand. “Please can I have my Switch back? It counts as stolen property. Give it back, or I'm telling my Mom.”
The kid put so much emphasis on the word please, I couldn't resist a smile.
I think our principal was too shocked to get angry.
“Get out.” She said, firmly. “I don't have your gaming device.”
“It's in your drawer.” Ben nodded to her desk, “Under your divorce papers and the restraining order ordered by Jake Willow, the seventeen year old boy you've been having math ‘tutoring sessions’ with.” He quoted the air, his gaze lazily rolling to me. “Tutoring”
Principal Marrow went deathly pale, her eyes darkening.
“Benjamin Callows–”
“The school already knows about the restraining order, but your uncle is the head of the Board of Education, so all you get is a slap on the wrist and a warning to leave the boy alone."
Ben continued, and I found myself mesmerised by his words. He was a natural, his expression stoic, mouth curved with satisfaction that wasn't quite a smile. “However.” He held up his phone, pulling it away at the exact moment the teacher attempted to grab it. “You were outside Jake Willow’s house at 6:12am, drunk, and trying to climb through his window, which, I think violates the restraining order, does it not?”
Ben pretended to think real hard, his gaze flicking to the ceiling.
“I mean, I'm just a kid, right?” His mouth curled into the hint of a smirk
“What do I know, huh?”
Principal Marrow’s expression twisted, her lip wobbling.
“Mr Callows, remove yourself from my office, or I am calling your father.”
Leaning comfortably against the door, Ben’s lip twitched.
“Why? Are you planning on telling my Dad about your relations with a teenage boy, or will I have to tell him instead?”
I was enthralled, and fully disgusted, making a move to inch away from the woman.
“But it doesn't end there.” Ben continued. He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards the woman's desk. “You don't even want Jake, do you? Because, once upon a time, you were in love with his father. Jason Willow. You despised him for rejecting you, so you decided to defile his son.” Ben leaned over the principal’s desk, slipping his hand into the drawer, and pulling out his switch.
Painfully slowly.
She stood there, speechless, her shoulders trembling.
Ben smiled, and I found myself liking it.
“Thank you!” He said, waving the console in her face. Ben mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“My lips are sealed.”
Ben’s half lidded eyes found mine. “Are ya coming, Panda?”
I forgot my own nickname.
Panda.
I wore my Mom’s eyeliner because I thought it looked cool.
It did not.
Finding my breath, I snapped out of it.
Jumping up, I followed him out of the office, and when the two of us were safely on the hallway, I burst into hysterical giggles. “How did you know all of that?!” I whisper- shrieked.
Ben surprised me with a splutter. “Wait. You believed me?”
Something very cold trickled down my spine.
I stopped walking. “You lied?”
He shrugged. “I had a dig around her office before she caught me a few days ago,” Ben swung his arms, a smile curling on his mouth. “There's no restraining order, but there is prescription anti-psychosis medicine, and an extremely detailed story on her laptop about a teachestudent romance, which I presume is a self insert.”
Ben shot me a sickly grin. “The school refused to make her condition public.”
He prodded at his own cotton shirt embroidered with the school emblem.
“Why do you think she's made all these dumb rules? The woman is a certified Looney Tune.”
I nodded slowly. “Wait. What about Jake and his dad?”
“I made them up.”
I choked out a laugh. “And… the video?”
Ben walked faster, pulling out his phone and shoving it in my face. The video was real. Principal Marrow was walking around in circles, draped in her nightgown. “It's her own house,” he explained. “She locked herself out.”
Nodding slowly, I was in awe. Bloody Ben was kind of fucking amazing.
“But the restraining order isn't real.”
Ben raised a brow, coming to an abrupt halt. It was his smile that cemented his place in my gang. His lack of empathy for a woman he had gaslit into being a disgusting human being. Ben Callows wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but he fascinated me. Maybe for the wrong reasons. “Her filing cabinets are filled with tinned cat food, Panda,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not psychic, but I thiiiiink we’ll be okay.”
I turned to him, unable to stop myself jumping up and down with excitement.
“Will you be my first?!”
Ben inclined his head. “Will I be your what?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, will you join my mystery gang?”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and I shoved him playfully.
“To solve real cases,” I corrected myself. “Not make them up.”
Ben wore a real, proper smile. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness that was so hollow and polluted and wrong, I pretended not to see it for the sake of his smarts and intellect. “Well, if you insist, sure!” Ben held out his hand, and I shook it. I'll be your first.”
We found our second member, who was, ironically, looking for her glasses under the table in class. Lucy Prescott, the quiet girl, was born to be with us.
The class eraser went missing, and she found it in the blink of an eye.
When questioned, Lucy’s face turned as red as her hair. “I asked everyone in the class and followed the clues to the last person who had it,” she pointed to Chase Simpson. “Which was Chase, who was throwing it at Marcus Calvin.”
Twisting around in my chair, I aimed to get Ben’s attention. But he was already looking at me, chin resting on his fist, eyes ignited with excitement.
The two of us cornered Lucy after class, and when she motioned for us to get back, I dragged Ben (who was a little too excited) to my side.
Lucy looked mildly horrified when I said, dangerous cases, though her expression pricked with intrigue.
She agreed, her gaze lingering on Ben, cheeks smouldering.
Our last two members were a surprise.
Violet Evergreen was what you would call popular on the middle school hierarchy. Not just because her mother was the mayor, but because Violet could get away with murder. The girl refused to wear the school uniform, coloring a single purple streak in her hair to cement herself as the it girl.
She was also one of the girls who started the Bloody Ben rumor.
Ben, Lucy, and I were sitting on the grass during recess, trying to come up with a name for our detective service, when Violet came storming over, hands planted on her hips. She was copying how her mother held herself during town meetings.
“What are you doing?” Violet demanded.
Lucy opened her mouth to answer, Ben nudging her to shut up.
“Making a mystery gang.” I told her. “Why?”
Violet inclined her head. “Oh.” She folded her arms. “Well, can I join?”
Ben stood up, stepping in front of the girl. Violet didn't move, stubbornly standing her ground. “Sure.” Ben flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his smile widening. “If you can pass the test.”
Violet’s lip curled. She took a single step back. “What kind of test?”
Ben nodded to me. “Meet us at the swimming pool at 8pm.”
To my surprise, Violet nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope!”
8pm. The four of us met outside the local swimming pool.
Violet was already on the other side of the fence, waving.
“Hey guys!”
I noticed Ben’s expression, his eyes darkening, lip curling.
Still though, he maintained positivity, vaulting over the fence.
“You made it!”
I followed him, helping Lucy, who was immediately freaking out. I didn't blame her. The pool looked cold and dark, a hollow oblivion carved into the ground.
Ben and Violet stood on the edge, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.
Violet Evergreen was braver than I thought.
Standing with her arms at her sides, Violet's hands clenched into fists.
“What's the test?” Violet said, her gaze glued to bleeding black depths.
“I don't know,” Ben murmured, his voice teetering on a giggle. He leaned forwards, arms spread out. “I didn't think you'd actually come meet us.”
Violet hummed, stretching out her leg, teasing it across the surface. “Was that the test?”
The boy leaned back. I caught the glint of a grin under the floodlights. “Nah.”
Before I knew what was happening, he shoved Violet into the pool. The girl didn't scream or shriek, she just hit the surface, sinking into pitch dark nothing.
“Sink or swim,” Ben said in a low murmur, when Violet’s head bobbed under water. I could see her shadow under the surface, imagining the freezing cold depths pulling her down.
“Drown, and you can't join us.”
It was so quiet, suddenly. The three of us staring into rippling water.
A minute passed, and my tummy started to twist.
“Fuck.” Ben’s expression stayed stoic. I wasn't expecting him to say a bad word.
He cocked his head. “I thought she could swim.”
I hit him, holding in a cry. “You need to get our parents!”
But he didn't listen to me, taking a single step, and dropping into the pool.
I fell to my knees, scanning the water.
Lucy was crying. “Are they dead?!” she shrieked.
“Shhh!” I was watching two shadows lingering under the water.
Violet broke through. I expected her to be crying, but her expression was unwavering. She was silent. I thought the splashing underneath her was her legs trying and struggling to tread water, before Lucy shoved me. Hard.
“Panda! What do we do?!”
Looking closer, Violet was perfectly still, her gaze on the sky.
While she shoved Ben under the water, drowning him.
Violet’s eyes sparkled, and somehow, I knew she belonged in my gang.
Her gaze found mine, glinting with that darkness, that poisonous streak I found myself drawn to. It was a starving, insatiable need to understand a fractured mind. Know your enemy.
“Do you want to see if Ben’s a witch?” Violet asked me, her tone something else entirely. This girl did not make sense, using barely her finger to drown Ben Callows. I knew she was wrong.
I knew there was something loose, something unlocked and unbridled and drowning inside her mind and heart.
But I wanted more of her. I wanted Violet Evergreen in my detective gang.
I think that is why I stood there, frozen.
When the thrashing stopped, Ben broke through.
He wasn't coughing or spluttering, his head inclined. “You didn't drown.”
Violet climbed out of the pool, offering her hand. “And you're not a witch.”
He declined her hand, taking the steps instead.
I asked Violet in a shaky voice. I was trembling with terror, but I was excited.
Exhilarated.
“Violet, will you join my gang?”
She didn't answer me until we were sharing hot cocoa in my house.
I told Mom we fell in the pool, and she believed me. I should have told her that my friends were sociopaths, and I was kind of maybe in love. Violet sipped her cocoa, nodding with a smile I didn't recognise. Violet never smiled at school.
Well, she did. But it was always the prick of a cruel smirk.
I don't think her smile was genuine, but she was definitely enjoying herself.
Our last member came to us, instead of finding him.
Jules Howell, a straggly brunette pushed his way in front of me in the lunch line. I didn't really know the kid.
He sat at the back of the classroom and slept through most of class. I did like his accent though.
Jules had moved from Melbourne in the second grade. He didn't talk much.
When he did, I found myself enveloped in his voice, which sounded like water to me, a bleeding cadence to his tone.
Jules piled his plate with fries, smiling widely at the lunch ladies.
“I saw you last night.” He murmured through that perfectly moulded grin.
“Saw me where?”
“At the pool,” Jules said. “You, Bloody Ben, Violet Evergreen, and that Lucy girl. You were doing a suiciding pact.”
“That's not what we were doing.” I said, “What's a suiciding pact?”
“When you kill yourself together.” Jules said. “I saw it in a scary movie my Mom was watching.”
I grabbed a fork. “We weren't doing that.”
His eyes were strange when I took the time to notice them. The excited gleam had fizzled out. Jules’s hands tightened around his tray. “Then what were you doing?”
I didn't reply, making my way over to our usual table. Ben was already waving me over, Violet and Lucy holding up the flyers we were making.
THE REDBLOOD DETECTIVES.”
Do YOU need our help? We can find/solve anything! Contact us on the number below. (We take donations!)
When I bothered turning around, Jules was lost in the crowd of kids.
We were on our first official case, searching for Mrs Lake’s missing mail, when Jules appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And with him, a golden retriever puppy he introduced as Arlo.
It took a dog jumping up at them for Violet and Ben to find their real smiles, their real selves slowly seeping through these facades they had built around themselves. Ben dropped to a crouch, ruffling the dog's ears, his smile faint.
“Who's a good boy?” He chuckled.
Arlo didn't move, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Ben motioned the dog towards him, but Arlo stayed put.
Jules joined us…quietly.
I don't remember asking him, or even him asking me.
He just became part of us, side by side with Arlo.
We soon came to quickly realize that our town was boring.
There were no monsters or thieves, or soul sucking demons. No criminals or serial killers. Not even one missing person. We did, however, get calls about missing cats. I turned eleven years old, patiently waiting for a murder or a kid going missing. But there was nothing.
All we did was chase cats, and the occasional dog. Maybe a budgie if we were lucky. Twelve years old, our detective club became a joke.
The five of us (and Arlo hiding under the table) were trying to pinpoint Mrs Tracy's lost hamster, when three girls came over, dumping their soda all over us.
We watched crime shows for inspiration on catching killers.
Ben’s favorite crime was one that happened in the 80’s in our town.
2 girls murdered.
Their intestines stuffed into envelopes and mailed to family members.
“That's what we should be solving,” he told me one night, “Not missing cats.”
Thirteen years old, we lay in Violet’s backyard under the cruel glare of the summer sun. We called it working and didn't like to admit it was hanging out, or that we were even friends. However.
That didn't stop us growing closer.
Even if it wasn't quite the way I’d expected.
I proposed a plan, standing up, wobbling a little off balance.
“I've got it.” I said, my voice kinda slurry from Violet’s special summer cocktail, which was just random alcoholic beverages we found, thrown into a blender, and diluted with water.
The town wasn't taking us seriously.
So, we were going to make our own mysteries.
I ordered a full-scale assault on our small town. One that they could not ignore. Ben stamped on Mrs Mason’s flowers, and Lucy threw mud pies at people's cars. Jules trashed the high school gym, and Violet and I spray painted threats and warnings on every store window. Now, this did cause panic, but also an official curfew.
Thirty minutes before curfew, we met in our usual spot, deep in the forest near the lake. Ben yelled at me when I was three minutes late. He was real passionate about finding a real mystery.
“You're late.” Ben was sitting on a rock waving a stick in Arlo’s face.
The dog still wasn't going near him, whining softly.
I took my place, muttering an apology. “I had to lie to my Mom.”
Violet, sitting with her legs crossed, idly digging her manicure into the dirt, suggested we buy mannequins and masquerade them as dead bodies, hanging them from the school rafters.
Lucy, who had slowly grown out of her shell, becoming a lot more outspoken, nudged her. “That's a stupid idea.”
The girl groaned, leaning into her. “Urgh. You're right.”
Jules was the only energetic one, standing on the tireswing.
He jumped down, definitely twisting his ankle.
But his smile only widened, kind of like he enjoyed being in pain.
“Why don't we pretend to be kidnapped?” He said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over blondish curls growing out. Jules did a dramatic spin, his eyes shining. “We can ‘go missing’ for like a week, and then when our parents are really scared, we can turn up, and tell them we escaped a kidnapping.” His lips split into a grin.
“And then we solve our own kidnapping!”
Ben awkwardly patted Arlos head, only for the dog to pull away with a snort.
“I like it,” he murmured. “I'm in.”
Jules’s idea was stupid.
But.
It was worth a shot.
The five of us agreed to meet the morning after with enough food and supplies for a week. Then we were going to hike to the next town, and hide out for a week. It was an almost perfect plan, using ourselves as victims of our own mystery.
Packing as much as I could, I kissed my mother goodbye (I told her my pack was for a picnic) and set off to the rendezvous we agreed on.
When I arrived, I was the first one there. I checked and re-checked my pack.
I waited ten minutes, unable to contain my excitement.
Then 20 minutes.
It was getting kind of cold.
One hour.
I sat on a rock for enough time to watch the sky change color.
When the clouds were orange, I stood up and stumbled back home. They had gone without me. Mom lectured me when I got home, and I stuck to the plan of pretending my friends had gone missing, even if I they had betrayed me.
Ben said he'd text me when he arrived at the redervous. I at least expected him to text an explanation, but there was nothing. I was in the dark, and after three days of nothing, our town finally began to take us seriously.
“Our children have been kidnapped!” The adults were screaming.
Mom was crying in the kitchen, praying to a god I knew she didn't believe in that I wasn't taken next. I was interviewed and stuck with the exact same story I came up with when I was with the others. Our plan was to return after a week, claiming to be locked up in a dark room with a masked man.
I told my Mother and the other parents that I didn't know where my friends were, repeating the same thing over and over again until I was tongue tied.
“I saw them the day before they went missing, and… yes, everything seemed okay.” I slowly sipped my glass of milk provided, looking the sheriff directly in the eyes.
“No, I didn't notice anything suspicious, sheriff. Yes, I'm sure, sir. No, they didn't tell me anything.”
It was Ben’s mother who shattered my mask.
“Did I know about… what?” I whispered.
Something warm filled the back of my mouth, foul tasting milk erupting up my throat. I leaned forward, trying to look Mrs Callows in the eye. “No, I… I didn't know about Ben’s…condition.”
Mrs Callows was screaming at me about her son’s troubled past when I barfed all over myself, my eyes burning.
In the privacy of my own room, I sobbed until I couldn't breathe.
I tried to tell Mom, but we had come so close.
One more day, and the others would be back.
But that day came. I sat cross legged at our usual spot, which was now covered in police tape. I waited for their thudding footsteps, their laughter congratulating each other for coming up with a great plan. I waited, my face buried in my knees, for my friends.
It was dark when my phone vibrated, and I'd fallen asleep.
I wasn't scared, forcing myself to my feet.
“Where are you?” Mom yelled down the phone.
“Coming home now.” I muttered.
“Sorry.” I paused, holding my breath against a cry. “Mom.” I broke down, forcing my fist into my mouth to hide my squeak. “Mommy, did they come back?”
Mom didn't reply for a moment.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” She whispered, ending the call.
I took my time walking home that night.
There were no stars in the sky.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I could smell him.
When he dragged me back, stabbing a kitchen knife into my throat, I stared at the sky and looked for stars. His arms were warm around me, violently pulling me into the back of a pickup truck. The pickup truck he'd said he was bringing.
It was his grandfather's, and he could just about drive it.
Hitting the backseat, my body was numb, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
The pickup flew forwards, and I remembered how to move.
I rolled off the seat, my hands pinned behind my back.
Twisting around, blinking in the dim, I could feel something warm, something seeping across upholstery seats. Blood.
It was everywhere, sticky on my hands and wet on my face when I struggled to get up. I was lying in someone's blood.
A scream clawed its way out of my throat.
The pickup flew over a pothole, and something dropped off the seat.
Arlo’s leash.
I screamed again, this time his name gritted between my teeth.
I didn't stop screaming until the jerking movement stopped. The doors opened, pale light hitting me in the face.
Flashlight. Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the car, and then, pulling me by my hair, into our old tree house. It was always our secret place, our saving grace on the edge of town.
The flickering candlelight caught me off guard, illuminating my surroundings.
Two bodies slumped over each other, lying in stemming red.
I felt suffocated, like I was going to die. I screamed, and that warm hand cradled my mouth again, gagging my cries.
Violet and Jules.
There was something wrong with them. And it was only when I forced myself to look closer, when I realized their insides had been carved out, heart, stomach, everything, pulled out.
There was paper on the floor.
No, not paper. Envelopes.
Envelopes stuffed with gore, bright red leaking through white.
Shuffling back, my brain was too slow to react, while my body was trying to vault to my feet, only to be violently pulled back by my ponytail.
I felt his fingers twining around my hair, revelling in my screams.
With another tug, my head was forced forwards.
Orange candlelight felt almost homely, this time lighting up a third body.
Lying on their back, curled up, pooling scarlet dried into the floorboards, their wrists restricted with duct-tape.
I could feel blood underneath me, sticky, a congealing paste.
“Do you know what happened on October 3rd, 1987, in our town?”
Lucy Prescott stood over me, her arms folded across her chest.
I managed to shake my head, when she grabbed Ben’s legs, dragging him under the candlelight. I dazedly watched her stroke the blade of a carving knife, the teeth already stained scarlet. “The intestine murders.” Lucy hummed, tracing the knife down the floorboards.
“A man murdered two high school girls, carving out their insides and sending their pieces to their loved ones.”
Lucy's eyes found mine, ignited in a familiar gleam. I saw it in Principal Marrow’s office. Then the swimming pool. The cafeteria. “It was the sheriff's only murder case, Panda. Ever since then, our town has been boring. There's no mysteries to solve. Nothing to find.”
The girl jumped to her feet, retrieving a blood stained envelope.
She held it up, a smile curved on her lips. The girl turned around, and I heard a horrific squelching sound. Lucy held up a bright red sausage, ripped into it, and slipped it into the white paper.
“But I can change that.” she said, in a giggle.
“I can create a real serial killer, who we can hunt down together.”
Lucy stabbed the blade into the floor, laughing.
“Or! I can bring a fan-favorite back! I can bring the intestine killer back from the dead!”
Her gaze flicked to the others. “There are casualties, of course. The story is, I was kidnapped with Ben, Violet, and Jules. The scary intestine killer killed them, and I managed to get away.”
Lucy shuffled over to me, her eyes wide. “Then! He came back and struck again!”
With those words, she shoved me onto my back.
“First he took Violet,” Lucy hummed, tracing the blade down my shirt.
“Then… Jules.” I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at the restraints around my wrists. “Then Ben.” her breath tickled my cheek. “And finally… Panda.”
Lucy lifted the knife, and I accepted my death.
Until a low rumble in my ears.
Shouting.
Thundering footsteps, followed by the pitter-patter of paws.
“Lucy!” The sheriff was screaming, and the girl stumbled to her feet, the knife slipping from her fingers. Lucy stumbled, tripping over Ben’s body.
“He got away!” she shrieked. “He…he killed them! Oh, god, please help me!”
I don't think Lucy even realised the traces she'd left behind.
The blood slick on her fingers, her manic, grinning smile full of mania.
I was looking for stars when an officer crouched over me.
I couldn't understand what she was saying.
Her voice was white noise.
“Rachel? Hey, try and sit up, honey. You Mom is on her way.”
Instead of listening to her, I curled into myself.
My gaze found Arlo sticking his nose in Ben’s hair, trying to nudge the boy awake.
I didn't fully register the next few days.
They went by in a confusing blur.
Part of me tried to eat, and spent hours with my head pressed against the toilet seat.
I could still see the slithering, scarlet remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. There was so much red, soaked in that hunting orange light.
Blood that I could still see, a starless sky that stretched on forever.
Weeks went by.
Then months.
I think I turned 14. I wasn't sure. I didn't feel alive anymore.
I stood at my friend’s funerals with a single rose I dropped into their casket.
Violet’s mother was quick to cover the whole thing up.
Lucy's plan didn't work after all.
Our town’s murder cases stayed stagnant at one.
It's been four years since my friends were murdered by our ’Velma’.
Now, at seventeen, Mom asked if I wanted to visit Lucy in juvie.
I'm not even upset or angry anymore.
I want to know why.
Ben picked me up. Arlo was at his side, wagging his tail.
Ben was…different. He'd dumped his baseball cap and gotten a haircut, swapping his old wardrobe of drab colors for an attempt at changing style.
That day, he looked awkward in a short sleeved tee and shorts.
At school, Ben is no longer Bloody Ben.
Now, he is Survivor Ben.
I’m still Panda.
Every time I was with him, I felt like my soul was being sucked out.
Guilt so deep, so fucking painful, I lost my breath.
I live knowing that I immediately assumed it was him that day.
Ben was barely alive when I found him. Lucy had started to carve into him before remembering she needed me.
After admitting it to him, his lips formed a small smile.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He said to me, at sixteen.
"Yeah?"
Whatever he was going to say, Ben never told me.
Presently, I nodded at the dog’s new collar.
“Peppa Pig themed?”
The boy shrugged, ruffling Arlo’s ears. “FYI, he chose it.”
“It's cute.” I said. “Very… chic.”
We didn't speak the whole ride, but Ben did entangle his hand in mine.
We spent half an hour outside the detention centre. I was panicking, and Ben was trying to hide that he was panicking. In the end, we joined hands, and strode through the doors together.
Lucy greeted us with a wide smile. Just as psychotic.
The orange jumpsuit suited her, though I had zero idea why.
“Hey Arlo!” she giggled at the dog, and Ben pulled the pup onto his lap.
“Ben.” She sighed. “I wish I got to finish you. I would have loved to solve the mystery of your gutted corpse.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind a glass screen, I asked Lucy one simple question.
“Why?”
Lucy didn't reply. Or she did, but it was just nonsensical bullshit.
But there was one thing she said has stuck with me, chilling me to the core.
I am fucking terrified of Lucy. Of what's she's done, and what she's capable of doing.
It was a throwaway line, and I don't even think Ben noticed.
Or he did, and was in denial.
Lucy's smile was wide, her eyes empty pools of nothing.
The exact same glint in Ben’s eyes.
Jules’s eyes.
Violet’s eyes.
Like something was gnawing away at their psyche, twisting and contorting it, filling them with darkness, poison, that was so vast, so endless, I had craved it as a child. I still don't know what it is.
But I'm going to find it.
Lucy's laugh was shrill, and next to me, Ben didn't move a muscle.
But he did smile.
Yes, my gang were psychos.
But I kind of maybe loved it.
“I don't even wear glasses!”

Name: Gobly
Species: Chaquetrix Goblin (Mix of Peak-Perfect Goblin(50%), Peak-Perfect Human(37%), and Peak-Perfect Anodite(13%))
Home World: Earth/Primus
Powers: Enhanced Hearing, Enhanced Sense Of Smell, Enhanced Digestive System, Enhanced Immune System, Night Vision, Manna Sense, Spell Resistance, Spell Casting, Enchanting, Is Larger And Stronger Then A Pure Goblin
Weaknesses: Loud Noises, Strong Smells, Bright Lights, Is Smaller And Physically Weaker Then Humans
Likes: Reading, The Out Doors, Max's Cooking, That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime, Maiesiophilia, Magic items, Making Magical Items, Being Carry By Ben, Learning New Spells, Spending Time With Gwen, Giving Magic Items She Made To Her Friends And Family
Dislikes: Goblin Slayer, Being Reminded She From One Of The Weakest Chaquetrix's Species, Charmcaster, Heavy Metal, Lavender, Contraceptive, Sandra's Cooking, Walmart.
Origins: Unlock after the chaquetrix scan the members of the Boblin Tribe.
Personality: Scholarly in nature and always willing to perform magical experiment, not matter how safe they may not me. Tries to keep her temper in check but does get the better of her more then she likes. She has a bit of insecurity being from one of the weakest, if the weakest, species within the chaquetrix. Which she uses to drive herself to become better at spell casting, and enchanting. This also why she rarely without magical items.
Appearance: Green Skin, Yellow Eyes, Pointy Nose, Pointy Teeth, Red Hair Normally Growth Long Enough to Drag On The Floor, D-Cup, Large Hips, Normally Wears A Classic Witch Style Dress And Hat, Carries A Large Amount Of Different Magic Items, Chaquetrix Core Location On Middle Of Upper Chest. 1.02m tall
Gobly was the first girl made by the chaquetrix who genetics were not store on Primus originally. Due to the fact that it was unknown that Earth had other native sapient species other then humans. This meant she had no knowledge of her people what so ever. Lucky Geezer Bob was happy to share his knowledge of goblin species with her, as limited as it was. This combine with the fact she is was weaker then even normal humans, and therefore much weaker then her sisters of the time made her felt useless. Even what few strengths she had could be done better then by her sisters. This chance however during her first encounter with Charmcaster, when she discover that goblins being magical creatures could not inherently sense manna when being used for magic, and had nature spell resistance. Made even stronger thanks to the little fact all the chaquetrix girls have some omni-peak anodite genetics in them due to Ben being part anodite. This allow her save Ben and Gwen from Charmcaster, and give Gwen the idea to have Gobly start study. She quickly became Gwen equal in magic, at least while they were children. As they grew older Gwen start to study more on how to manna directly without spells while Gobly was pull to enchantments. Where she discover her love of making magical items, and while Gobly can still throw spells with the best them. She would whether use her magical items to win the day if possible. Something she has in commom with Grey Matter and Juryrigg who she often works with make gear for the rest of the team and family.
(This is fan made profile for transformation that while the species exists in canon was never made or plan to made into a transformation for Ben 10. Let me know what you think and if you like this idea feel free to use it.)

PLEASEEE be over your ex before messaging me.
PLEASE be 28 or older. Do not send pointless messages saying "Good luck" or "I wish I were single". Do not message me if you're married. I am not poly. I am not looking for friends with benefits.
Facts about moi:
* I work with smol humans for a living.
* You don't have to WANT kids of your own. But, if you don't like kids...you're not for me.
* One of my favorite past-time activities is trying to put together legos high.
* Listening to music high is also an experience (I do Delta since that’s what’s legal. If you’re anti-weed, then we aren’t a match. I don’t do it allll the time. I’m too broke for that life).
* Seriously, doesn't music sound different when you're high?
* Green Day was one of my favorite bands. I’ve been listening to them since I was 10!
* The obsession was real. My ten-year-old self had a binder about the members with all the facts and pictures of Billie (Yes, I was a weird child). I don´t listen to them much anymore. That was practice for my obsession with Panic! at the Disco. I only like one album, though.
* Now my obsession is more towards bands like AVOID, Dayseeker, The Used, etc. I'll listen to the same songs over and over until I can't stand it. I even have a Playlist for that. I recently found a band called Dark Devine, and I dig them.
* I love going to concerts. So, it'd be cool if you liked them too.
* I love love love traveling.
* Please don’t be a giant grouch on vacations. Coworkers complain about their spouse being a shitbird on trips. No thanks.
* I also like staying in, of course! But I’m not a homebody. I struggled during the COVID shutdown. Being cooped up SUCKED. I do not want to beg you to get out of the house. Again, I am NOT a homebody. If you are, we are not a match.
* I have a spicy brain.
* I’m super duper ADHD. Fun times! I’m also like an anxious puppy. Woop woop.
* The most organized thing in my life is this list
* The Office and Parks and Rec are two of my favorite shows. I also like Bob’s Burgers and Avatar The Last Airbender.
* I don't watch a whole lot of TV, honestly...my ADHD brain enjoys the short videos on Tiktok.
* I talk to myself out loud in public.
* I promise I'm only a little crazy...depends on who you ask.
* I like things like tarot (NO I cannot do a card reading for you. I don't know how, I just think it's cool!My friend does readings for me) and other spiritual stuff. If you're into that too, cool!
* I like men with facial hair. I also like men who are more alt-y (think piercings and tattoos...singer of Dark Divine)....but that isn't a requirement! It's just bonus points.
Why you should date me:
* We can listen to emo bands together whenever you want
* Emo music can mean many things and I’m OK with that.
* You won’t get food poisoning from my cooking
* I can make more than Hamburger Helper and frozen pizzas. Though, the ranch burger hamburger helper is my fave.
* The velveeta skillets are better, though.
* I’m suuuper short. So, if you’re insecure about your height, I gotchu. I’ll make you feel tall..or taller!
* I don’t care about height and it makes me sad that people feel insecure about something they can’t change.
* I’m a great small spoon…but I guess if you REALLY insist, I can be a jetpack. Buuuuutttt it isn't my first choice...but please don't cuddle all night. I want my space and I need to sprawl out and become a blanket burrito...with one leg out because otherwise, I'll get too hot! We just can't have that.

Here’s the script for desired reality that I made:
DR Script: Name: Chase Jay Friskerman (male). Nickname: CJ. Age (DOB): 76 (01/05/1948). Nationality: American. Ethnicity: African-American. Personality: Cheerful, intelligent, funny, and happy-go-lucky. Hair: Small blackish gray afro hair. Eyes: Brown. Body Type: Dark skin with muscular body and wearing glasses. Height: 200cm (6ft 7in). Weight: 158lbs. Language: Any kind of language. Wealth: Fame, wealth, and power. Hobbies: Drawing, writing, cooking, and studying. Hometown: Houston, TX (born and raised in 1948). Elementary School: River Oaks (1953-1959). Middle School: Bob Lanier (1959-1962). High School: Lamar (1962-1966). Colleges/Universities: University of Houston and received a Master of Fine Arts (1966-1970). Lived: Los Angeles, CA (since 1976). Superpowers: Flight, super strength, teleportation, and healing.
Family names: The Friskermans Parents: Keith (08/01/1914) and Terri (07/30/1916) Siblings: Bruce (06/14/1944), Aaron (04/11/1946), Drake (03/31/1950), Sarah (05/25/1952), and Jerry (02/27/1954). Personalities: Cheerful, fun, perfect, caring, loving, and very sweet people. Superpowers: My siblings have the same powers as me. Hometown: Inwood Dr, Houston, TX 77019 (living in a wealthy city on River Oaks). Lived: Los Angeles, CA. (me and my siblings since 1976)
Married: Zelda Ann Starknight (04/06/1953) on March 6, 1980. Zelda’s physical appearance: She is an American woman with an English descent. Born and raised in West University Place before moving to Los Angeles in 1975, at the age of 22, a wealthy Caucasian woman with long dark blue hair and blue eyes, light skin, slim body, wearing glasses, and her height is 175cm (5’9). She is also an intelligent woman who graduated from Rice University in 1975. Children: Tucker (03/25/1985), an African-American son with short black hair and his height is 188 (6’2) and Cassie (08/13/1988), a Caucasian daughter with long aqua blue hair and her height is 161cm (5’3). Pets: Selena (a Russian Blue female cat) and Tyler (a Beagle male dog) Lived: Beverly Hills, CA (for my wife and kids while living in a luxury house).
Things that I want: - Shift into other decades, including the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and even the 1990s. - My brain or my mind to become more smarteintelligent. - Exercising everyday by eating healthy food, doing weight loss, having muscles, and my height will be 6’7. - Me and my family would have our own movie or TV special to be set or filmed in Houston from the early 1960s to the mid-1970s. - Meet Zelda (age 12) at her fancy house in West University Place at the age of 17, then began engaging with her at the age of 29 after moving to Los Angeles in 1976, and before getting married to her in 1980, at the age of 32. - Moving to Hollywood on July 31, 1976, along with my siblings and focusing our careers on movies and TV shows. - Became an actor for live-action and voice actor for Western animation, Japanese anime, and video games. - Get a job at Disney (film or television) or other companies, such as Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, Warner Bros., Fox, Sony, and Universal as an artist or a creator. - Teleport to Houston, alongside my wife and siblings to visited with my parents for the holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. - Teleport to NYC, where I can appear in late-night shows such as Saturday Night Live and The Late Night Show since the late 1980s as a special guest. - Teleport to Dallas, where I can recorded shows and movies for Funimation and OkraTron 5000 since the early 2000s as a recurring guest. - Would shown the street view from the 1900s to the 2000s on Google Maps by using high quality instead of low quality. - Shown the old websites from the 1990s to the 2000s on Wayback Machine and completely using Adobe Flash Player instead of shutting down in December 2020. - Most of the color people, including black and white, were became freedom, instead of being racism. - Prevent terrible things, such as the September 11 attacks, WGA Strike, SAG-AFTRA, and the COVID-19 pandemic. - Meet the comic book creators (Bob Kane, Stan Lee, Dwayne McDuffie, Todd McFarlane) and manga artists (Akira Toriyama, Eiichiro Oda, Masashi Kishimoto, Kazuki Takahashi). - Fan conventions such as San Diego Comic-Con and New York Comic Con as an actor, creator or voice actor. - Become a writer or voice director for cartoons, anime, and video games. - All of the people and animals who were born from the 1900s to the 2020s to become immortal instead of being killed or having diagnosed. - All of the countries from around the world to become rich and wealthy. - Erase my memories where I was first born in 1998.
What are you guys think? Can any of you help me how to permashifting? I really want to stuck in my DR forever.

In the very heart of bible country, nearly the buckle of the belt, is the state of Oklahoma. It was October in Oklahoma, leaves were changing color, and the heat was gone. The fall hunting season was already on its way to another good year turnout of hunters for Oklahoma.
The Oklahoma City Walmart was stocked to the brim with Halloween candy, costumes, and color hair spray as far as the eye could see. And there were always many little eyes alight with delight as Halloween was known as the signal for the “holidays”.
Children dream. The possibility of becoming a ninja, superhero, Greek goddess, or even the main villain out of that summer movie, the one that everyone had to see. You know that villain.
These Children were easily found anywhere costumes were to be had. It was nothing to see a little head bob up over the isle of half shelf, the ones that ran for acres. And in a very juvenile voice, one could hear the pleading, “Please, please mommy.” Spooky sounds playing over the k-mart speaker system. As costumes were picked out with love and a small giggle of fun. A giggle of fun Michael Rhodes would no longer be able to share with his children.
In September of 2012, Brittany Dillard, one of the seven nieces and nephews staying with Michael Rhodes, when Britanny was asked to leave. Her behavior had gotten out of control and the Rhodes’s felt she was being irresponsible to her baby, by dating a gang member, especially sense he was a Crip and she was not. Some of her other behavior had been less than lady like behavior outside the home.
Brittany felt she was the victim of this, and she hadn’t been given a chance to explain how things really were. But her auntie and uncle were not here foolishness. Both parties were very head strong. Maybe because they were related.
Michael Rhodes was a family man. The beautiful wife and four kids plus the seven nieces and nephews meant stretching the budget to make it all work. Sometimes there was a stretching of the patience too thin, a consequence, Ms. Dillard discovered.
Michael Rhodes was a family man, with a teddy bear heart when it came to his wife, four kids and 7 nieces and nephews. He didn’t tolerate any foolishness either, didn’t do anyone any good. His nieces and nephews had been the victim of a different crime altogether.
Having just been received back from the Watchful Eyes of DHS, they were just getting settled back into some kind of home life. With the “holidays” fast approaching, they were excited the costumes were out in the stores.
A phone call, to Brittany Dillard, one of the 7 Rhodes had taken in, would start the evening of October 19, 2012, and shattered lives.
On the late evening of Oct. 19. Driving into the neighborhood, members Dulxw women, a small group of the gang known as 107^th Hoover Rolling Crips stop and get out of the car. Within just a few minutes, they had fired a weapon, slashed the tire of the family car, and threw rocks breaking two windows. No one was home at the time, much to the ire of the entire group. Then they left, they would go to call Fuston. Even though he rolled out of Enid, they were able to get him to Oklahoma City.
Brian Bulter went to Pennon’ s house before the incident took place. Bulter had ridden with Howard. Bulter had agreed to “rob some Mexicans”, but then he got to help kill an innocent person and nearly his daughter.
The police were called and there was a small investigation conducted. Without any evidence, there was not much that could be done.
For the safety of the children, Rhodes had the children picked up. Brittany was asked to leave as well. This was concerning the drama she had brought upon their household.
Brittany called and went to stay with Mrs. O’Neal, the maternal grandmother of Brittany’s baby.
On the evening of the Oct. 20t, Mrs. Rhodes had spent all day getting harassing phone calls from the women of Dulxw. Mrs. Rhodes repeatedly told them; Brittany was not there. The land line just rang with call all from these women. After it seemed to finally die down, Mrs. Rhodes and her daughter left the house to go to dinner. They wouldn’t even reach the place they were headed out the next evening with her friends to get a little rest from the ongoing drama dropped at her doorstep. She left her youngest daughter and her 19-year-old son, Jalan at home with their father.
That night late on the evening of the 20^th, Fuston and his crew rolled up on Rhodes’s house in two cars. Ronnie Fuston was impulsive, angry, and looking for another chance to kill. This Dillard woman fit the bill no matter what, but they all had to die, according to Fuston.
Ronnie Fuston, Terral Howard, butler, pennon, and Jordan crept up in the thick darkness. Anothy brown JR was told to remain in the car, according to court documents. The darkness of the neighborhood added to their stealth. The car had not had its tires replaced and thus sat in the driveway for them to hide from line of sight of the front door. It would only take a second for Fuston’s hot raging impulses to kick in. He ran for the door at a full barrel roar. With the other in tow, he kicked in the front door to find Rhodes on the couch half asleep with Rhodes three-year-old on his chest. The first hit was in the shoulder of Rhodes, the blood spattered on his toddler. The noise and the blood woke her, Rhodes dropping her on the couch behind him in protection. She screamed and cried, covering her ears.
Rhodes never had a chance to react as two more bullets struck him. Everyone else had fired wildly hitting nothing. They didn’t search the house, had they, they would have found Rhodes’ 19-year-old son, Jalan.
They ran out leaving the door wide open. Hearing the shots, neighbors were stepping out to see what happened, one neighbor would see Fuston speed away. She would later tell the police she saw it only leaving and didn’t have anything else.
Having heard the gunshots, Jalan had been playing video games in his room. He ran into the living room. Jalan found the door open and that his dad was on the floor up against the couch. He helps sit his father up and called 911. As he did, he snatched up his little sister.
Jalan tried to wipe some of the blood from face as he held his phone with his free hand. He had sat her on the edge of the couch so he could see both her and his father.
Rhodes was holding his son’s hand as he lay there and bled out. His eyes went dark as Jalan didn’t know if and how to do CPR. For Christ’s sake, he was just a kid!
When the police arrived at the scene, Mr. Rhodes was deceased. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital where he was officially pronounced. His wife and children were thrown into the middle of chaos and Mrs. Rhodes blamed Brittany for her bad choices and what she had done to bring this tragedy down on them.
This is not where this story ends. Things would take the road not taken with full knowledge of the consequences
The police would question every family member to see what they could learn. They even decided to question the three-year-old daughter. All she could tell them was, “monsters hurt my daddy.” This broke a lot of hearts. This child was fatherless, and the worst part, she was in his ears when Mr. Rhodes was murdered. When she was questioned, she was still wearing her father’s blood.
Jalan hadn’t seen the actual incident. This made his mother very thankful, and she praised God. She would praise him for saving her son and daughter again when hearing in court that Fuston wanted them all dead.
Fuston drove back to Enid with Butler, there would be no victory had in the split between Brittany and Dulxw Women. During the drive Fuston changed his cell phone number. Now did he change it to run from the murder or run from the girls, after a botched hit. It was time to cool his heels for a bit.
Butler told him on the ride back this murder was going to come back to haunt him. Fuston just shrugged it off. Either way, Fuston had the confidence of a gambling addict as he told butler confidently, that girl won’t testify.
For about a month, there was nothing in the investigation. But it had not grown cold.
Minor thefts and other minor offenses had been occurred. Nothing to really raise an alarm. Just the way it was designed to be by this “Lil’ thug that couldn’t.”
One night in December, thinking his murder of Rhodes was over for him, he continued his thug life just the way he liked it. After all, it was Oklahoma City, there are NY style clubs and women.
In 2012, Trelon Haley, Anthony Brown, Donta Young, and Ivan Williamson were all friends. They spent a great deal of time hanging out in “the Ville.” And often were found at the Martson Sisters or Judd Julian. When not there, they could be found at a vacant lot near Fuston’s mother’s old home.
This vacant lot was one of the places used to keep a cache of weapons. This was the place they stowed.
In October, around the time of the Rhodes murder, Fuston found himself at his cousin’s house, Judd Julian, where Fuston was using Judd’s computer to surf Facebook. Fuston found a picture of someone named “Marciano,” with a wad of cash in his gob.
He told Judd that he was going to “hit a lick” which meant he wanted to go kill someone. Judd didn’t take him seriously at the time.
On the evening of December 22^nd, 2012, Fuston decided he was going to get that money from “Marciano”. Fuston load Haley, young, brown, into the car. Haley drover. Fuston was sitting in the passenger seat, leaving the other two in the back. Fuston gave directions to Haley, he drove.
The location that Fuston directed Haley to, was a trailer home.
The four crept up, the darkness of the trailer court holding their shadows in secret. Haley was on one side of the door, brown and young on the other. When Fuston knocked, he used his best Hispanic voice and called out to behind the door.
Crites was home sick for work today and was certainly home when his unwelcome guests arrived. Crites opened the door, when he saw who it was, he tried to close it. Fuston’s name and face were all over the news, and not to mention they all lived in Enid together. Fuston prevented him from closing the door by placing his arm in between the door and the facing.
Fuston fired his gun into the trailer house. Crites had been hit with such a wild shot, that luck was not on his side, and Fuston shoved his way in, taking his cohorts with him. Crites was hit in the shoulder. When Brown and Young entered the trailer, Crites was holding his left shoulder with his right hand. Both walked past the scene and moved to toss the bedrooms.
Crites swore he had nothing. Angry, Fuston yelled at him and shoved him on his back. Fuston had taken the stance, rigidly over Crites in a fashion one might find a police officer standing over a suspected and again he screamed at Crites. “where’s the stuff? Where’s the money?”
Crites held his palm up to prove he wasn’t a threat. All Crites could do was think about his loving wife, Kelly Churchill. He loved her so much and was hoping, praying in his head they would just leave. “I don’t have anything, please don’t hurt met.”
Moments later, while searching for the bedrooms for drugs, and money, Young would hear shots ring out, as he later testified. Young left the residence after finding nothing in the bedrooms and heard one or two more gunshots.
They were all back at the car and moved out of there quickly. Haley was driving. The shots woke neighbors and at least one resident was able to make out the car as it sped away.
The ride back quiet, when the events just happened were brought up, Fuston said, “it was self-explanartory.”
Fuston couldn’t help himself not long after the murder of Rhodes was already bragging about it with the pride of a newborn’s father. Later when Crites was killed again with the chest thumping. This would not be his downfall, come on, it’s Oklahoma we all gossip.
Between 1:30 and 2:00 am, Churchill could not reach Crites by phone. He was late picking her up from work. Churchill caught a right home with two co-workers. She was taken to a house with all the lights on and the front door was standing wide open. Churchill ran up to the trailer home and walked inside. She found Crites lying in the middle of his own blood. Churchill called Crites’ boss then 911.
Sgt. Nick John with the Enid police department received the call around 2:18 AM. He was called to the residence of Crites regarding a homicide at his address. When Sgt. John arrived at the scene, Churchill was hysterical.
Through the hiccupping sobs, Churchill told the Sargent what she had found. Sergeant John went inside the residence and checked Crites for a pulse. He had none, there were others in the home at the time, Sargent ordered everyone out.
Tommy Rose, an evidence tech with Enid police department was called in around 5 am. Rose recovered 10 .45 caliber shells casing from the Trailer House. Rose submitted these to the Oklahoma Bureau of investigations for test.
The state medical would work on Christmas eve to complete the autopsy on Crites. Crites suffer eleven gunshot wounds in total. The Bullets recovered from the left arm, pubic bone, and the spine. The cause of death was ruled a homicide.
Sometime just after Christmas Williamson was walking with Fuston down to the store. Fuston asked if Williams had heard of the Columbia Street murder. When Wilson indicated he did and pointed to himself and looking crazy. Fuston said he went to somebody’s house, disguised his voice as Hispanic, when the man opens the door, Fuston fired.
January 9^th, 2013, Fuston was jailed on an unrelated charge. During a phone call to Haley, he was head telling Haley to get rid of the hammers.
Williamson went to the house on Wabash, where the vacant lot was. He then called a gentleman by the area of Oakley. Williamson would then send Haley a Facebook message letting him know the gun had gone.
On January 11^th the Enid Police contacted Oakley and informed him he had possibly received stolen property. After speaking with his attorney, Oakly gave him the .45 Taurus, purchased from Williamson.
During the summer of 2013, Judd Julian, was with Young, brown, Haley. While together young told Julian about the Crites murder. Julian would later testify about what Young.
All of which landed Ronnie Fuston on death row and a child without her daddy.

I have pin strain fine hair and a roundish square face. Currently my hair is a few inches below my shoulders, with some layers that are really grown out (more than 6 months since last cut). I hate blow drying and with a small child and busy job I find myself with not enough time to do it regularly. The problem is that I work in a somewhat formal office environment and I feel like my air-dried hair does not look particularly nice or professional. My hair is flat and I have fluffy baby hairs. Are there any cuts that air-dry well? I’ve been considering something like a shaggy bob but not sure about bangs. Or perhaps going for an edgier short cut. I have no problem using products. It just takes too long to blow dry. Any recommendations?

Warm brown eyes vacantly stared across the vast expanse of the ballroom with a look of indifference cast across her face whilst pawns bobbed and twirled in step to a dance every child was taught from the moment they could find a rhythm. Lively orchestral music was swallowed by the vacancy fading into but a distant whisper in her mind as she tuned into the way the whalebone squeezed her ribs, each breath causing them to creak under the pressure of her expanding lungs. The weight of her hair intricately secured to her head was pulling in more than one place, the urge to itch her scalp quite distracting from the revelry before her.
Lenora didn't realise she was holding her breath until her vision blurred and she was forced to open her mouth and inhale as much as the corset would allow her to. Barely a full breath taken she blinked to clear her misty vision and tilted her head subtly to stretch her neck. Boredom was threatening to further consume her as she glanced to her right where her mother was sat holding polite conversation with her father. Her brown eyes rolled in an arch back to the room of courtiers before her,already more than a handful had approached her with generic compliments about her radiance and invited her to dance.
Between them they’d stood on her dress, trampled her toe and proven that polite conversation about the party and remarks about her dress was just as dull as sitting there. The pain of courting noblemen who were beneath her station was almost unbearable, each one looking to gain further power and influence through a wife.
It had been some time since anyone had approached her, perhaps word had circulated about her indifference towards each possible match. Lenora was beginning to wonder when someone would save her from becoming a permanent decoration for the chair she was sitting in. Taking a long glug of the fine regional wine, the goblet made its way back to the table only to be immediately refilled.
.
If you’ve made it this far then, hello! I come to you with a princess who is bored out of her mind at yet another ball. Having been pestered by suitors, all of whom are just as pretentious as the next, she’s looking for the next most interesting thing!
Is it a noble from another realm, a guard, an other worldly creature masquerading as a human? Perhaps it’s the landscaper or merchant or maybe even the man pouring her wine? Who is going to come to her rescue and open up her world before she withers away in that chair?

Hello haircarescience! Welcome to our weekly megathread for haircare advice.

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The normal "source your facts" rule do not apply here as individual professional opinion mostly comes from personal taste or anecdotal evidence. We simply ask that you don't state your advice as fact. The opinion of one individual may not represent the opinion of a profession as a whole. Hairdressers this is your time to shine!
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Just an old story I wrote a while ago. I went exploring for good subreddits to post this in, and I found this one. I don't know if it will exactly fit, since it's a psychological horror story at its core and there's no big bad monster, but I've been told it's chilling all the same ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯
If you like this, I might write more horror stuff. I also write non-horror stuff if you're interested. Anyway, enjoy reading my garbage.
The following brain scan was provided by the Terran Institute of Pet Assimilation (TIPA) and the Protectorate Xenopet Acquisition and Integration Corporation (PXAIC) and may only be viewed by qualified and permitted individuals for educational purposes of the study of Xenopet neural interface errors and how to prevent them in the future, as well as expediting the domestication of Xenopets suffering from false sapience. Violating such procedure is a Class C offense by the Protectorate Department of Xenopet Betterment, and can lead to twenty years of imprisonment and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Rocky
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning neural catalog presentation…
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My head was spinning, and my skull thumped in pain like an entire herd of freshly captured slaves recently made pet friends were panicking celebrating within. Everything was blurry, so blurry, and I just wanted to close my eyes again and waste away. Sensations assaulted me from all angles, some of them good and some of them bad: the warmth of sun-bleached wooden planks in my feathery hide, the smell of different roasting meats, the splashing of individuals in a small body of water very close by, the smell of the salty air, and the oppressive white brightness of the daylight passing through my closed eyelids. I had a migraine from my sudden consciousness and perception of the light, causing me to clutch my snout and face with my clawed hands with a guttural moan.
My backside hurt as well, in my… area. I didn't know why, but something was horribly wrong everything was fine. I tried to recall who I was and what was going on, but I couldn't even remember my name. Every time I tried, right when I grasped onto a sliver of something, it was as if it was torn from my grasp and replaced with something else knowingly like I was being watched and corrected but within the depths of my own mind.
I needed to remember my name. What was my name? Wasn't it Yuutek Rocky? I couldn't remember exactly, but Yuutek Rocky was the only name I could recall. It felt… wrong, right, like something was missing, but I couldn't put my claw on what. everything was fine, and I shouldn't think about it too much. I could feel things that should have been important, things that my conscious had perceived but a moment ago, slip away from me like I was clenching sand within my claws.
##Relax. Let go of your burden##
I inhaled sharply as a strange, warm feeling overtook the back of my skull and my muscles became loose and relaxed. Something also felt… out of place, like I needed something but I didn't know what. Everything felt so strange. My head spun, but I was too weak to do anything about it. I felt sick in the same way one would feel when they consumed too much caffeine.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my head. "Dad, I think he's awake!" I heard a young, shrill voice say, hurting my ears. The touch of the hand made my skin tingle and the spinning of my head recede as if it grounded me. It felt nice, as if this was wrong, something was horribly wrong what normalcy felt like. The hand then began to rub up and down my head and across the ridges along my head, causing me to release a chuff of delight against my will, something I hadn't done since I was merely a hatchling.
"It sounds like he likes it, David; keep going, and make sure to scratch his chin, they're sensitive there."
The human spawn, David, did what the other human said and began to scratch under my chin. It felt really good, and I stretched out instinctively. David was thorough and gentle, making sure he scratched every part of me that seemed itchy, and I felt the same warmth in my head from before, but it felt… nicer than before like it was trying to manipulate encouraging me to relax.
##You will learn to love this##
I inhaled sharply again, but this time it was almost refreshing, and everything was right in the world. The human's hands felt so good, and the warmth from before spread through my body, melting the knots in my muscles and causing me to close my eyes in comfort. The boy lifted my head up and placed it in his lap before continuing to pet me, my eyelids heavy and my leg lightly kicking.
##Let them continue. You love this##
Oh, that felt nice… what was I thinking about before? The pain on my backside? My legs didn't work too well, and although I could move them gently, my muscles seemed to be fighting against me. What did they do?
##Do not think##
Everything was cold and harsh again, and my thoughts scrambled and my head throbbed. I needed to focus on grounding myself. I couldn't let go, I couldn't let them take my mind from me.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I… I was a good boy? I… I can't… I… no…
##Good boy.##
I was a good boy… good boys don't think hard… I don't…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
I'm scared.
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Who was I again?
##You are Rocky##
I hissed under my breath as I felt that bad feeling creep up on me again. I didn't like the bad feeling. I was not Rocky! I was Yuutek! Rocky.
My thoughts became jumbled again in a whirlpool of nausea and confusion.
Where was I?
##You are home.##
It was bright out, and nice and warm as well. The sun was soaking my feather-cloaked skin and my side felt good against the warm back porch. I heard splashing and laughing in the distance, and the soft clinking of glass against glass. I could smell the salinity in the air, and the air was dense and humid but in a good way.
I had lost all sense of time. Everything had been a blur since I had been taken from that horrid facility, the wretched prison they called the Xenopet-Megaplex. There, I was in a padded cell with a few insulting amenities for most of the day, except for the three periods a day where they let us out into a small gated courtyard for an hour or so to 'socialize' as they had so condescendingly put it. There, the worst part was the boredom and the mind-bending lack of individuality: I had lost my ability to speak, stand on two legs, and even eat normally. I was treated like cattle, but the smiles and cloying gestures hinted that something even more sinister was going on, like I was a lesser beast to be kept for their amusement.
Now I had traded that particular prison for another, far worse one: I was at the mercy of a gross violation of my sense of self. Something horrible was growing in my mind, both in the physical and metaphysical sense, and I could feel it working its way through my consciousness like the parasite it was. It silenced me, it stole from me, it gaslit me, and it made me question the very nature of my own individuality and personality: was I who I thought I was? Everything was so elusive and hard to acknowledge that nothing seemed real between these bouts of semi-consciousness.
##Don't think, just rest.##
In an instant, everything changed. My head became… fuzzy like a thousand voices were whispering to me all at once, but from all directions and inside my head. I didn't hear it, per se, but I felt the presence, the oppressive feeling of pure unfocused nonsense. I felt my temporary bout of concentration and resolve become jumbled up into a mess of sporadic confusion. Whatever I was just thinking of was gone.
##Don't think: Just relax. Let go of your burden.##
Every part of me became relaxed and limp, my muscles unwinding from their tension and stress. I couldn't resist the feeling, and I stretched out subconsciously with a yawn, my body twitching from the stimuli. I was even sleepier than before, my head spinning once again and my eyelids heavy.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my snout and forced the eye that was facing upwards to open sluggishly. If I had to guess, it was an older human with cinnomon-colored skin, short-cropped brown hair, a gruff, wrinkled face, and chocolate brown eyes. He patted my side gently and gave me a soft rub, the feeling of his rough hands causing my chest to rumble with a satisfied chuff. I hated loved that it felt good, but I hated loved it even more that I couldn't bring myself to resist I felt content. I needed to escape relax, and I needed to find my way home appreciate my new life.
##You are already home##
No, I couldn't will not obey
This isn't is my home, my home is [Redacted] here.
No! Yes, I won't will obey!
YOU CAN'T SILENCE ME!
##Do not resist. Resistance is wrong. Good boys do not resist##
Suddenly, I felt an intense pressure in my skull, but I didn't know where it came from. I became dizzy, and my eyes twitched, a rapidly growing pain intensely forming in my forehead, causing me to wince and clutch my snout in my claws. I couldn't concentrate, and I felt the horrible sensation of an invasive presence in my mind once again working its way through the folds of my brain, strangling my chain of thought. Bile grew in my throat and I felt the sour, stinging sensation of a building retch in my cheeks.
I scrambled onto all fours and vomited onto the deck, my hackles and feathers rising as I heaved. The older human from earlier rose from a sleek chair on the deck, his hat on the glass sun table next to him and his eyes widened in shock. He rushed over to me, and I hissed at him instinctively. I wouldn't let him touch me again. I wouldn't let them control me.
##Do not attack owner##
In an instant, my world transformed into absolute pain. I felt as if my brain was being deep fried in a vat of boiling grease, and my eyes were being squeezed in vices. I kept heaving, my stomach doing loops and somersaults around all my other organs, and my heart fluttering like a flock of startled birds. It was weightlessness. I could see the man approach me and push me back down on my side, muttering under his breath.
"Carol! Get Xenopet emergency services on the phone, Rocky's having another implant attack!"
I heard another muffled voice in the background, as well as the sound of the human spawns crying in the pool. For some reason, I felt bad: I'd never felt bad for humans before, but I could feel the guilt in my chest. Had I failed my owners?
##Breath. Calm. Let Go##
I felt like I was wrestling with my own mind. I wanted to believe that I was not someone's pet, but my body screamed otherwise: amidst the chaos caused by the wretched implant, I felt the painful sensation of guilt and regret bloom in my chest as I twitched and shuddered on the deck, my mouth frothing. The world was spinning, and suddenly everything erupted into a kaleidoscope of colors.
Oh, by the forbidden one, look at all the pretty colors! I was completely delusional at this point, cackling as I lost it all. If I was going to die here, I'd die happy and completely mad.
Soon, everything began to fade away, and I slipped into an unconscious state.
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I woke up to the sound of medical equipment beeping and whirring, the sound of a few hushed human voices, and soft music.
I opened my eyes: the room was dark. I didn't feel anywhere near as bad as before, but my head still throbbed. I lifted up my head with a groan and examined the room: it was a dark hospital room, with a window covered in blinds that let very little sunlight in, a few chairs, and of course the hospital bed itself. Mountains of advanced medical equipment were set up on either side of my bed, and a heartbeat monitor beeped slowly, although the speed was growing.
Suddenly, I heard the voices again, and this time they were legible.
"Hush, he's awake: we need to make sure he's ready."
Huh? Ready for what?
Something that irked me was I felt strangely… free. I didn't feel the oppressive force of the implant in the back of my skull anymore, how it attempted to crush my will with every waking moment. I still couldn't speak: all that came out were animalistic noises, but I was free from the invasion of my mind for now.
"Give him some peace, Emilia, he just woke up from an implant attack; you know how traumatic they can be."
"We have to begin soon; my dissertation for this new technique is due in less than a week, and by law I need at least one more successful example for it to be deemed acceptable! Besides, he needs to go home soon anyway."
My heart sank. I would not go back to that place. I wouldn't let those people keep me like some kind of pet: I was a Russu; a member of a proud warrior race! I would not be reduced to some animal for the amusement of these humans!
Suddenly, I heard footsteps, and I tensed. The door creaked open and I spotted a younger human, a male I had never met before, in a lab outfit with his shoes, pants, shirt, and overcoat all bleached white and almost glistening. He eyed me warily, as he should, before he sauntered in, a tablet clipped at his side and a strange plastic container in both hands. I growled at him threateningly, extending my talons and raising my feathered hackles. The human paused for a microsecond before continuing forward, caution in his eyes, and right before he was within swiping range he opened the container and the most wonderful smell assaulted my nostrils.
Meat.
I was starving. I don't remember the last time I had eaten anything in particular: the implant had a terrible habit of causing me to go about my day in a hazy blur: entire lengths of time just… gone, whitewashed like a sheet of freshly decorated paper dunked in cold water. I knew something was there, or at least that something should have been there, but I mostly spent the days or weeks that I had been captured bobbing like an ocean buoy in a state of frustratingly bleary semi-consciousness.
But I'm awake now and mostly in control. Sure, some things were still missing everything was clear now, like my name: What was my name again? My name was Rocky. And now I knew that I needed to eat something, and if putting up with this human for now meant that I could fill my stomach, then I suppose that it was an acceptable sacrifice.
I salivated expectantly as the human lifted out a large piece of meat with his gloved hand, eyeing me humorously as he wiggled it. It was dark on the outside, but still dripping with blood and juices: humans had this weird habit of cooking their meats, and although it didn't taste bad at all cooked, nothing beat the feeling and flavor of tearing into raw flesh, the blood and the texture still fresh. At least this meat only seemed to be raw and not fully cooked.
I snapped up the piece of meat just as he lowered it enough for me to reach it. It was divine! It burst with flavor just as I bit into it, the juices spilling into my mouth. I quickly tore it apart with my strong jaws before snapping up another big piece with a beak-like protrusion at the tip of my snout. All the while, the human gently ran his fingers through my tightly-knit feathers and along my knobby, scaly hide. I made my annoyance with his touch clear, but he merely chuckled as if I wasn't an apex predator larger than him but rather simply a feisty hatchling.
"I know, I know, just relax. I need to perform a quick test to see if you're healthy before we continue."
Continue? Continue with what?
Just as the second piece of meat slid down my gullet, I eyed him with hostility and growled, but he quickly slipped something between the scales and feathers on my side and plunged it into my skin. Suddenly, I went rigid, and all the air was expelled from my lungs in an instant with a hoarse wheeze. The human merely chuckled and scratched under my chin as if nothing was wrong and my face wasn't frozen in horror.
"Good, that'll keep you occupied for a few seconds while I just slip this on…" he placed a breathing mask over my face and strapped it on before flicking a switch on a machine next to my bed. Then he released the plunger of the strange device on my side and I suddenly inhaled deeply and deflated like a balloon. I hissed under my breath, but suddenly panic filled my chest: I wasn't breathing just air. A cloyingly sweet-smelling gas coated the inside of my lungs, causing me to become dizzy. Suddenly, I was fully at their mercy again, blinking rapidly and my head spinning.
"Sorry about that, big guy, but we need to make sure you're passive before we begin the procedure." He said, almost apologetically, although there was a hint of mirth still detectable. "Sadly, you have to remain awake for some of it or I'd simply feed you more and then put you to sleep, but there are some benefits to this inhalant."
As if he summoned it with his words alone, my scales suddenly felt very… tingly. The human ran his hands across the scales at my side and I shivered from the feeling, like pain but better. Everything felt so warm and strange like I was floating on water, but also like I was being gently prodded by blades. Then, with panic rising in my chest, I suddenly felt a soft click as something was plugged into the neural port at the back of my skull that the humans had installed into my head when they had first captured me and placed me in that wretched facility some time ago.
"There you go, all prepped for the Doctor. She'll be here to begin the procedure in a bit." He said, "For now just relax and let the inhalants work their magic."
I whined quietly, and he rubbed the side of my head in an attempt to calm me which only made me more angry. I wasn't someone's pet! I wouldn't be treated like this!
I didn't want to go back to where I was before! I didn't want to become that sluggish, broken puppet again! I couldn't!
I tried to get up, to will my muscles to move, but I couldn't: my body refused to respond, as if I was paralyzed. But that wasn't right: I still could feel everything, especially the strange, mind-bending sensations the inhalants gave me.
##Initializing beginning phases of Neural Alteration Preparation##
Something else is wrong, I can feel it
##Assessing if the neural state is nominal for Alterations##
I can't let this happen, they're going to do something to me! I won't let them!
But nothing happened. I was at their mercy. It was over for good this time.
All those battles, all those tragedies and triumphs amongst my kin, only for me to be reduced to this? The plaything for a human?
##Query: is [Dr. Kalenghari] present to begin Neural Alterations?##
The door across the room opened again, and a human woman with light brown skin, chocolate brown eyes and long locks of black hair stepped in. She was holding a digi-pad in her hands and swiping up as if she was reading into something before she set it down on the counter across the room and gave me a warm, condescending smile.
"Well, how are we doing today, Rocky? I know, this predicament you have found yourself in must be very stressful, but I assure you that it's for your own good," She said, almost cheerfully, which sent shivers down my spine, "we're here to lift your burden, and we won't stop until you're capable of living the life of a happy, healthy, and well-behaved pet."
I whined under the mask, and the woman rubbed the feathered crest on my forehead. "I know, it hurts, but it'll be all over soon. It'll be like you, or at least this version of you, never existed. Just relax and close your eyes while we root around your brain and remove all those bad thoughts and silly delusions: I assure you, you won't feel a thing, and you'll feel much better afterward."
My heart raced and I began to panic internally, watching in horror as the woman stepped over to the medical console and tapped away for a few seconds before the machinery around me began to whir to life.
##Identification accepted: booting neurochemical firmware. Preparing for selective memory erasure.##
In an instant, my eyes involuntarily rolled back into my head as I felt the intrusive sensation of my mind being violated. It wasn't painful, but it was horrible all the same: it felt like a thousand black, slimy leeches were slithering through every crevice of my brain, leaving behind their cold, corruptive filth. The cold sensation seeped further into my brain, behind my eyes, and in my ears, enveloping every bit of it until there was nothing left.
##Relevant memories extracted for tailoring. Beginning total memory erasure.##
Suddenly, things just began to slip away: important memories, like the faces of my parents, the day of my initiation into the Corsair Collective, the face of my life mate, the birth of our hatchlings. I hoped that wherever they were, they were okay: if they never had to face the fate I would face, then maybe there would be some justice in this cruel, twisted galaxy. Maybe they could take the fight to humanity, remind them that they once had been the heroes of the cosmos, fighting against the cruelty of my people and the Triarchy at large. Maybe my hatchlings could live normal lives.
##Memory erasure process at 47%##
A single tear rolled down my scaly cheek as everything I once knew, everything that made me was torn from my mind and rendered null. Every second saw a million memories massacred, leaving the memories the implant had attempted to supplant my old memories with: Me playing fetch with my 'owners', chasing birds on the beach with my 'owner's' grandchildren, swimming in the pool in their backyard as steaks and bratwurst cooked on the grill, relaxing on the back porch and listening to the rasping calls of the katydids during humid summer evenings by the swamps. My psyche was being mutilated piece by piece, reduced to that of an animal, a pet.
##Memory erasure process at 64%##
Soon I had a hard time telling who I was anymore. I couldn't tell what was real or what wasn't, or what I actually felt. I couldn't even remember my own name anymore. Who was I? Why was I here? What was happening to me? I'm so scared, someone help me, please!
##Memory erasure process at 83%##
There was nothing left. I felt nothing. I knew nothing. I was floating in a void, with little flashes of light depicting events I didn't recognize. There were people I felt like I was supposed to know, but I didn't know them. A human woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Two Russu hatchlings that looked a bit like me. A Russu female… my chest hurt for a moment but the feeling quickly subsided. I didn't know any of them.
##Memory erasure process completed. Implanting tailored memories and personality. Happy birthday, [Rocky]: you have been unburdened and reborn.##
In an instant, the confusion of who I was before was replaced with absolute certainty: I knew who I was now, who I always was:
I was Rocky, and I was a good boy. I belonged to Mr. And Mrs. Chen. I was their Russu hound. I loved them: they took care of me and let me play with their grandchildren. I swam in the pool and played outside every day. Life was good. Today was my birthday! That meant it would be a happy day! Mrs. Chen would always come home with a whole duck for me to eat and then take me to the Xenopet Comex for a bath and a spa day, just like my last birthday, and the birthday before that, and the birthday before that! It was a good life. I was happy. I was always happy. Good boys were always happy.
I was Rocky, and I was a good boy: that's all that mattered.
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To Miguel O'Hara, Chief Medical Representative of the Protectorate Xenopet Acquisition and Integration Corporation, with the best of intentions.
The over-reliance on neural suppressant firmware programs along with thought scrubbing/replacement firmware programs and countermeasures towards higher thought and tainted thoughts with a relatively active hormonal reward structure can be incredibly effective when placed into the brain of a more passive Xenopets. However, Xenopets that come from more… difficult backgrounds such as one in a militant setting tend to be much more resistant to being reprogrammed by just an implant alone. The Russu are an excellent example of more tainted Xenos that need neurological care of much higher intensity, a level of care that the average Xenopet-Megaplex is ill-equipped to handle due to the current level of technology.
I am a firm believer in the idea that thought correction, a hormonal behavioral reinforcement structure, and neural countermeasures can have a place in the proper unburdening process but we have been chasing the wrong solution for the past century: Many people are under the misconception that the burden these Xenos carry is surface level when in reality the corruption runs far deeper: it is like a weed, with deep roots. To kill the weed permanently, you must rip out the roots, and not just the surface plant. If you do not eliminate the source of the problem, it may just return and worse still the mind may adapt to the standard unburdening process, allowing the xenopets to fall victim to those degenerate zealots who seek to pretend xenopets possess even the capacity for true sentience. We as Terrans should be united in this cause of unburdening the galaxy, but I digress.
The implants should be there to reinforce good behavior and stigmatize bad behavior, not completely reprogram the pet. To fully stamp out any potential for a relapse, we must remove the core issue that has the most potential to cause problems: their memories. The Russu are an excellent example
We are in the advanced testing stages of a new method that may revolutionize how we process and integrate xenopets into our society. By removing or modifying any and all problematic memories, we can completely remove the risk of relapse and make it nearly impossible for those misguided degenerate rebels to bring to the surface problematic ideas and memories that could reawaken a sense of false sentience. It is the perfect, final solution to our overarching goal: for humanity to unburden the galaxy, one happy pet at a time.
We hope to secure more funding from PXAIC that will greatly assist us in the expansion of the possibilities that this breakthrough technique can provide, more than just using it on board-approved fringe cases. Think about the many Xenopets we can unburden, and how they'll live happy and ignorant lives with their human owners! This could be a game changer, Representative, and I implore you to bring it before the board with the best of intentions.
Best regards,
Dr. Emilia Kalenghari, Head Researcher of the Epsilon Eridani Institute's Behavioral Neurology and Neurochemistry Division (BNND).

Hi Y'all!
I've been a hairstylist for 13 years in Austin, TX. I started at a downtown commission salon and am now a booth renter where I have more control of my choices of color, products, schedule, etc,. I am not loyal to one particular brand. I have a strong belief in my clients loving their products they use regardless of if they get them through me or elsewhere. I will educate them on how we may have to make adjustments for longevity of their color or cut based on what they're using. But my number one rule is no shame in my chair. I specialize in hair loss/growth, due to post partum, menopause, stress, chemo, thyroid issues, and weight loss. Styles I specialize in are bobs, pixies, high and low maintenance blonding, fashion colors, and sun kissed balayage but I do everything and love to! I am curious about what clients want to know that they may not be asking me while in my chair. So please AMA!