TW: Potential abuse
I have a complicated issue here and would like some guidance from fellow educators. I am currently a new secondary teacher working in a large private school that operates more like a public school. Leadership are not helpful and don’t really like hearing from staff.
I was on duty today at lunch and overheard a student conversation. He believed I was out of ear shot but I caught enough to hear some words that required following up.
I had him the next lesson after. We had a chat and I politely raised what I heard. He tried to downplay but he decided to open up once he figured out I knew.
He said that two nights ago, his mother had been drying his hair (apparently, she doesn't let him do this by himself for "safety" reasons) and decided that it hadn’t been washed properly.
This didn’t really make sense to me given he’s both academically gifted and independent.
Usually - and to clarify, this has happened more than once - she would let him wear speedos for privacy.
However, as his mother was in a bad mood, he was in some sort of trouble and she couldn’t find the speedos, she decided he would still shower. With no clothes on. I carefully clarified if consent was there and he said it wasn’t really a choice given she would punish him or yell if he didn’t comply. By this stage, he felt quite awkward. I comforted him and then suggested he could go to student wellbeing if he needed more support. I doubt he went, though.
I have met the parent before. She is a teacher herself but not at the school. I'd describe her as strict but knows how to charm fellow teachers. The father is a member of staff but he's not in my faculty and teaches senior students.
The bigger picture I’m struggling with is about mandatory reporting. On one hand, the mother was caring for her child and didn’t have abusive intentions according to the student. On the other, I feel it’s inappropriate to ignore consent, especially when it’s about nudity and with a teenager.
This is my first instance like this and it’s left me feeling awful.
PS. I'd prefer to leave what state anonymous.

ADDED SOME NEW TITLES & LOWERED SOME PRICES
Hello, I have a bunch of things that I need to get rid of ASAP. ALL PRICES ARE NEGOTIABLE!!
DM me for better detailed pictures. If in picture but not listed, it's sold.
https://imgur.com/a/etgfNop (Reach out for more detailed pictures)
-Complete Sets- (NOT SPLITTING)
Day of the Flying Head 1st Edition 1-4 / G4 / $500 CAD / $354.27 USD SHIPPED
The Drifting Classroom 1-11 / G4 / $225 CAD / $159.42 USD SHIPPED
Joan 1-3 / G4 / $250 CAD / $177.14 USD SHIPPED
Tohyo Game 1-3 / G2-3 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Saikano 1-7 / G3-4 / $200 CAD / $141.71 USD SHIPPED
Dark Edge 1-10 / G3-4 / $150 CAD / $106.28 USD SHIPPED
Madara 1-5 / G2-3 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Ogre Slayer 1-2 / G3-4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
The Drifting Classroom 1-3 / G4 / $85 CAD / $60.23 USD
Striker 1-3 / G4 / $85 CAD / $60.23 USD
-Partial Sets- (NOT SPLITTING)
Project Arms 2-3, 10-16, 19, 22 / G3 / $125 CAD / $88.57 USD SHIPPED
-One Shots-
Orochi: Blood / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
Tekkonkinkreet Black & White 1st Edition / G3 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD
Samurai Son of Death / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Wild Com. / G4 / $50 CAD / $35.43 USD
Bomber Girl / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Sakuran Blossoms Wild / SEALED / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
The Twelve Sisters of the Never Ending Castle LTD Edition /1000 Copies / G4 / $200 CAD / $141.71 USD SHIPPED
World War 3 / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
World War 3 Battle Over Hokkaido / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
VIZ Signature Sneak Peek 2006 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
The Walking Man / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs / G4 (tear on top of dust jacket) / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
-Random Volumes-
(HENTAI) Secret Plot 2 (NeWMeN) 2 / G3 / $225 CAD / $159.42 USD SHIPPED
Comics Journal #250 (Yoshiharu Tsuge's Screw Style) / G4 / $125 CAD / $88.57 USD SHIPPED
FLCL Light Novel 1 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
(HENTAI) Adventure Kid 2 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
(HENTAI) Adventure Kid 3 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
World War 3 Raid On Tokyo 1 / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
Raqiya 2 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Samurai Executioner Omnibus 2 / G3 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
BTOOOM! 13 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
BTOOOM! 23 / SEALED / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 4 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 4 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 8 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 9 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service 4 / G3 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service 10 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Black Jack Hardcover 1 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
Gen of Hiroshima (Barefoot Gen) 1 / G3 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Robot Super Color Comic 4 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Robot Super Color Comic 5 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Golgo 13 8 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Golgo 13 10 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Golgo 13 11 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Golgo 13 12 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Kaiji: Gambling Apocalypse 1 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka 6 / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
-Free Volumes- (Must Purchase Something Else)
Shadow Star 1-2 / G2 (V1 has stains on the top of the first few pages, and V2 has stains on the edge of the pages)
Legend of Mother Sarah City of Angels 1 / G4
Thanks.

I don't want to write a long post about my life , but I need some adivce .
I want to explain in a short, clear post.
I watched porn before. (mostly hentai, yuri porn) . In or out, I watched it, sparingly. Obliviously, I controled my watch of porn. Plus, I was taking care of my disabled mother. It did helped to control my watching porn.
However, the content is begining to be longer than five minutines. I watch it almost an hour. An hour is little too much in my opinion .
I tried to block porn. It worked for a long time but I can't resist of being horny, especially when you are a 35 single woman. I don't want a partner because I like being single. I can't see myself with somone.
I don't want to be an addict nor I don't want to rid of porn ( I admit it). I need to take care of this problem before getting back at college.

I (26F) was raised in a household with emotionally abusive parents. My mother (67F) was consistently emotionally and psychologically abusive, and my father (70M) was neglectful, emotionally and occasionally physically abusive. I have started a relationship with my boyfriend (26M) and we have been together for six months, and we’ve finally reached the “meet the parents” stage. I still see my parents but I am low contact and have strong boundaries with them (which they hate). I want him to meet my parents and be civil with them, as I am, but not necessarily get attached.
The problem I run into is that my boyfriend has high functioning Autism and can sometimes be easy to persuade of things, and both of my parents are extremely charming to strangers. My mother in particular is a very charismatic person, and I know that she sees my partner as a potential way back into my life. My boyfriend knows that they were abusive but does not know about specific events or incidents because I have not discussed this with him yet.
It’s my fear that he will get “charmed” by them if he doesn’t know the full context about why I don’t like them. This has happened before with friends and strangers where I will discuss some of the stuff that happened to me as a child and they’ll immediately discount it after meeting my parents because “they’re so nice!” They’re not nice. They make the Dursleys from Harry Potter look charitable.
I discussed these fears and also some of the trauma highlights from my childhood with a mutual friend who knows us both and she said not to tell my boyfriend about the specifics. Because she says if he ever meets them after hearing these stories he’s going to commit a m*rder.
So I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either I tell him about some of this stuff, and he’s going to find it unbearable to meet them at all or b) I don’t tell him, and risk that they manage to persuade him that they’re great people and I’m the crazy one.
Also: cutting contact with my parents is not on the table, this would result in a ripple effect of drama throughout my extended family that I am not interested in. I have other family members who would be affected. I can bear sitting down for dinner with them once a month and that’s what I do.
Should I tell my boyfriend the extent of the abuse?

PC
Reddit Account: FatalisticBunny
Discord Tag: Freed#4998
Name and House: Bors
Age: 43
Cultural Group: Dornish
Appearance: Bors is a man with a square jaw, dark eyes, and a dark beard. He does not have as much hair as he had in his youth, though he is not balding, instead just preferring a short style. He is somewhat short, but has a bulky build with no shortage of muscle. He dresses plainly, like a worker, and his hands are calloused. https://imgur.com/a/vgOE1f2
Trait: Conqueror
Skill(s): Cunning[e], Tactician[e], Ambusher
Talent(s): Weaving, Propaganda, Nationalism
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Meria's Man, Commander of the Orphans of the Rhoyne
Starting Location: High Hermitage
Alternate Characters: N/A
Family Tree: Bors m. Arianne (d) Damon (d) Ynys Quentyn
AC
Name and House: Ynys
Age: 21
Cultural Group: Dornish
Appearance: Ynys is a tall woman, freckled and with blue eyes. She resembles her mother more than her father, and has a tendency to dress in bright, glorious colors. She is charming, and somewhat bouncy, far more than her somewhat dour father. https://imgur.com/a/PQPHPJM
Trait: Unscrupulous
Skill(s): Raider[e], Tactician
Talent(s): Sneakery, Bribery, Propaganda
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Daughter of Dorne
Starting Location: High Hermitage
Alternate Characters: N/A
Family Tree: See Above
Bio:
The deserts of Dorne are a hard place. Harder still, since the dragons came. Since you paid an extra hunk of silver on every coin so that the Princess could buy some jade amulets from Yi Ti, and another silver so that she could send it to her monarch. Since a thousand Dornish weavers and a thousand Dornish smiths were sent out to starve, because it became the fashion in courts to wear Reachman arms, and bear a sword in the shape of the Stormlords. Life was harder, in Dorne now, but the nobles didn't seem to bear any of it. Not most of them, anyways.
There were weddings, to be sure, but none that anyone less fortunate had ever been invited to. Grand celebrations, but all they meant to anybody real was that more men were coming south. And it was always men, because the way of things up there was that women were beneath. And of course, they brought that down with them too. The lords, and the princes, and their attendants and their households. These attitudes did not vanish into the air.
Not to the Queens and the ladies, of course, but to those who didn't have levies to protect them. Many knights had slapped a female servant for daring to speak out of turn, or refused to be taught by a woman master-at-arms. And that was just the tip of it. The Dornish were lustful by nature, the Westerosi told each other. They found that an excuse for all sorts of things, and for the sake of peace, one was just supposed to forget they had ever happened.
These were not the only attitudes that bled through. In Meria's age, the smallfolk had been respected. Not held so high as lords, but given bread and water in the case of famine. Some had risen high in Sunspear and the surrounding castles. But now, the Westerosi chafed to see the lowborn rise so high, and they swatted them down. It was not only birth that upset them. Certain things may be tolerated in a wife or husband who brought land or a dower. But to be served at a table by one with "shifty eyes?" To have your child nursed by a "dark-skinned" woman? All these lords, all these ladies, married in for the sake of peace, believed that the Dornish were lesser. That they were treacherous, wanton. Exotic, but untrustworthy, fickle and licentious. If left to their own devices, liable to poison you and eat your children. Perhaps they restrained these impulses for political gain, but the common people of Dorne were easy prey. And so, when given the chance, they were the ones that suffered.
Bors was not, initially, much of a soldier. He had fought against the Stormlands, in a great battle, although he had not known much about the war itself. He had been fighting for Dorne, and that was enough for him. He'd return home, and he'd become a weaver. One who had worked hard, and gotten employed at Sunspear. Who'd taken a wife, and had three children. He'd always been something of a good speaker, but he'd not had a mind for tactics, particularly. It had been a good life, and one in which he was well-satisfied. He was not an ambitious man.
Then, there had been a deal to bring in wool and cloth from some province in the Reach. Bors remembered when they had told him that they had a new weaver. His cheeks were pink, and he was a scarce twenty years old. A favorite of some Reachlord who had married a Toland, he heard. It didn't matter. He was out, and he needed to find some new work, or else he would be begging on the streets. He heard that they had started rounding up beggars. And so, Bors decided that he ought to join the fighting in the Stepstones.
It was a hard-fought campaign. Harder than the Stormlands. Bors saw good men die, drowning or stabbed. It was only because they were fighting for Dorne that he was able to push through. Princess Meria had died, and Bors intended to give her a grand farewell present. He came to be seen as something of a leader amongst the group, simply because he was a hard worker, and because he had an ability to rally the others, when they were uncertain.
What came of that war? Nothing. The Stepstones fell, but they held only one. The Dragon Queen constructed a grand citadel, with which to hold a knife to Dorne's throat forever more, with her wretched beat. And Deria Martell spat in her grandmother's face and bent the knee. She bowed, and every loyal man and woman of Dorne wept.
One might then decry the slow descent of Dorne into tyranny. The way Westerosi hatred and suspicion of one's neighbor crept in, poisoning the well. But it was not slow. They built up monuments to wealth in a city where their policies left people hungry, and thirsty. They took loiterers and debtors into the navy, forcing them to die to protect their rocks. Bors's eldest son, Damon, had liked to bet on horse races, on occasion, and hadn't had the funds to back it up. A pirate had put a spear through his face, eight days into his service. That same day, some cousin of Lord Drinkwater had paid his debts off, and they'd thrown a feast in his honor.
It was that day that Bors, and several of his men set off. And they burned a caravan, coming from the Reach. The bread that it carried, that which could be salvaged, was split amongst them. Any they could not carry, they left for the poor. That band has waned in sizes, over the years. And it's one by many names. The Orphans of Mother Rhoyne. Meria's Men. The Unbowed. It is not so strict an organization, as to have a roster. And its members are different, too. Some men fight, kill, and raid for a free Dorne. Some simply resist the Seven Kingdoms where they can. Some simply know that in their heart, the false king and his Queens will fall, and a free Dorne will rise again. All these are Bors's kin.
Bors himself would say that he is not important. That he is just one of a surging tide, hoping to free his fellow people from that which has been forced to see. But Bors has seen much, and he has learned to fight. He has learned to command. He carries within him a spirit unmatched by many. And that spirit is infectious. He had learned what it is to fight for Dorne, and he passes that spirit onto others. The skill in question is Conqueror, but that is not what Bors is, not truly. Bors defends his homeland, he defends his people, he defends the weak and defenseless from the true Conquerors. Bors is a liberator, in his heart, and he has honed his skills at that not only from his experience on campaign, but from his band, prowling the desert.
Some call Bors "The One Who Remains." And that is who he is, at heart. When the Martells pushed for Dorne to submit, Bors pushed for Dorne to remain. To remain free, to remain accepting, to remain Dorne. And when Bors pushed, with his skill and charisma, he found a great many more pushing with him. It is something of a misnomer though, after all. Those who fight for Dorne number far more than one.
Archetyped NPCs: Quentyn - General Mel - Bandit

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

Kaemyn Farleigh is writing her first book series but struggles with names. Given the descriptions of her book and characters, help Kaemyn figure out the most fitting names for her characters.
-- Premise: In a world where humans and the faery tale creatures theyve often been told to fear live together, a half-vampire detective must rely on her connections to the occults around her to stop a serial killer before they reignite the race war between humans and occult creatures.
-- Main character is a woman of colour whose mother is was a very powerful vampire heiress that forsaked her throne to marry her father. The oldest of three, the MC is naturally responsible and has a very strong intuition. She is in her late twenties and has a style and swagger similar to Wesley Snipes in the "Blade" series. If she ever got the chance to cast a movie of hee book, she would cast Georgina Campbell for her MC.
-- Main character's partner is a male full-blooded vampire. Though he is technically a middle class vampire, he likes the finer things in life like AB- blood and Baroque-style architecture/design. He has dark hair, dark eyes, weara glasses, and dresses very properly. She thinks hell be German or French and that Michael Fassbender, who plays young Magneto in the X-Men movies would play him.
-- The first victim, a blonde female college student in her early 20s with short hair and watery blue eyes. She was studying mathematics and statisics before she was killed. She was the only child of her mother and the youngest of her father. Described as naïve and book smart, she loved alternative rock music, action and horror movies, hiking with her best friend, and going to the pier where her body was found.
-- The second victim, a Japanese immigrant who moonlighted at a bar mainly frequented by giants and ogres. She was in night school, and had a young daughter named Ayrena who was being raised by her parents the night of her murder. The girl has long hair dyed orange, large black eyes, and typically wore sparkly, theatrical make-up. She is described as being bold, nurturing, and blunt by those that knew her.
-- Ogre who is like a father to the second victim. He is understanding and forthcoming with information with the MC a out the death and the whereabouts of him and all his employees. Kaemyn is modeling him after Michael Clarke Duncan and Bernie Mac.
-- The third victim, a young freckled brunette who worked as a preschool teacher. She had an unpaid dept to the King of the Fae. Despite her debt, she was seen as a nice person who was a talented athlete [at rugby] good with kids, though mischievous and a bit of a kleptomaniac. She and her boyfriend, Branden, were set to get married in a few months.
-- The King of the Fae, who is a tall, skinny, ghostly white creature with large cerulean wings and blood red eyes. He has long black fingernails and a Scandinavian accent, though most Scandinavian fae arent vitriolic like him so the MC suspects the accent is fake [and perhaps even his name; Kaemyn is undecided but is open to names for both scenarios] and hes really Siberian. He is elusive yet charming and confident that he can talk his way out of anything.
-- Brother of the King of the Fae, who is a minor character that is having an affair with the third victim. Hes subservient to his brother, though hes not a bad person despite being born into the life of crime. He helps the MC gather intel on the Fae because he wants to know who hurt his slain lover
-- In a twist, Kaemyn wants the culprit to be a gnome who initially was introduced as a low life who commits petty crimes and would sell people out for a penny if he could. She has no idea of anything else, except that the character has the same personality as DJ Qualls im most of his early movies.

Yip-Yap-Howdy, y’all!
My name’s Audely! I’m an 18 year old maroon furred fox in Texas! I’m in need of a literate, friendly, and fun partner willing to experiment, write, and hang out with!
I’m fairly experienced, and would consider myself highly-literate to novella in terms of literacy.
Now, I’ll make this little introduction short:
I request that my partner participates, shares ideas with me, actually talks, and isn’t afraid to say “no” to something. For me, I believe it’s crucial to have a happy partner, and will treat you wonderfully! I’m friendly, but if my chatter’s bothersome to ya, please tell me and I’ll shut my muzzle up and focus on the story.
With that being said, if you wanna divert from a story we’re doing, I’ll be happy to hear ya out on the idea! Worst I can say is “no,” but I usually try to make a “compromise” if I’m uncomfortable to do something with ya, whether it be graying out the area I don’t wanna do, or even biting the bullet and going straight into it, I’ll do my best to serve.
The only catch is that I stay as my fox, Audely - who I’ll introduce ya to in private.
I’m interested in military / post apocalyptic plots sets in the near future and am a sucker for enemies to lovers with a bit of romance. Down below, I have a plot written out for us if you’d like to read:
Roleplay: “Rally ‘Round the Flag”
Thunder booms over the desolate concrete jungle of New York City. Loosely standing rubble and structures were mostly all that was left, including a severely damaged Empire State Building that loomed eerily in the hazy distance. A cold, wet female sat watch in her perch overlooking a road. Mortar holes peppered the concrete and old, rusted barbed wire snaked across the middle of the street, connecting to different strong points to hold off a long-lost last defense from years prior. There were multiple destroyed armored vehicles parked in their final destination - some more damaged than others. It was hard to imagine that just 16 years prior, it wasn’t like this… But she still had faith in her government. After all, it is what restored peace.
The NDG - or better known as the “New Democratic Government of America” - came into power in February of 2020. It was ran and organized by General Robert A. Frost. At the time, he was a respected and highly intelligent 33 year old man who was not only an excellent motivational speaker, but the man who promised to restore the United States to its beauty - to revive a righteous, just, and prosperous nation. However, shortly after he brought this new policy into effect, it didn’t take long for him and his party to show their true, wicked colors. However, his rigor in his speeches and passion entranced many people, which kept his motives unharmed and continued with little resistance until a civil war broke out just a month after. However, Frost had managed to deteriorate every single state’s government at such a staggering rate that the little bit of resistance that showed was crushed. From his success and jaw-dropping speed in completely taking control, followers of the NDG fell in love with Frost, which cemented his unyielding leadership in this “New United States of America.”
Of course, he couldn’t wipe out everyone who disagreed, and many were disgusted and hated him to hell and back, but those who were open about it were simply, “Culled so that Progression of Restoring the Nation remained undisturbed.”
Audely Clearwater, a 19 year old fox from Texas, was an HVT to Frost - actually on his most-wanted list. The young, maroon furred fox was born in Texas shortly before the wake of the NDG, and had little memory of the United States or his parents prior to the takeover. His mother, a 24 year old woman, and his father, a 26 year old man who was mutated into a fox in a project named “Project Tail Wag,” were 2 of hundreds of thousands murdered by Frost. They exchanged their lives for Audely’s sake, sending him to live with family friends all across East and Central Texas. When Audely turned 13, he ran away after NDG forces surrounded his caregivers’ ranch in order to “bring youth under the wing of the NDG.” He barely escaped, and went into hiding until he turned 16. Throughout that time, Audely learned how to flee, beg, and fight to escape capture after picking up stealing and robbery to survive. However, he was caught by a group of officers of the State of Texas Army & Marine Corps. Forced to be taken under their wing after begging to not go to jail, he was trained extensively for the inevitable “some day, when we strike back.” And, it turned out, it would happen just a year later. He saw extensive combat, and even as a young and inexperienced soldier, Audely had gained a reputation as an excellent soldier.
Frost did not like this. He wanted Audely’s hide. Especially for his rarity as an anthro. He needed the fox to be exterminated.
. . .
2 years had passed since then, and Audely was still on the loose. At 19 years old, he became an icon for the effort to push back. Frost was furious and put a bounty out for his capture:
“Immediate promotion and Officer School scholarship for next 3 generations of your family for FREE for the capture of Audely Clearwater.”
And, there sat the woman. She had created herself to be an elite soldier of the NDG… and she was one of Frost’s top officers he had. She answered directly to him. The thought of fame and glory nearly made her smile. The NDG was close to catching him after a few weeks of tracking him and his squad down in NDG-controlled Maine and New York. They managed to kill his squad, but he once again miraculously escaped… for now.
If the intel was correct, then Audely should be within 5 miles of her position at this exact moment. She felt nervous, though…
Would she be able to finally clamp his mouth shut, and his limps bound for all to see, the Terrorist finally stopped and morale shattered for the resistance forces? Or, would the last thing she see be his snarl before he ultimately takes her life, marking yet another death for the NDG by the actions of Audely?
If you think this plot’s gonna suit ya, or if ya wanna try me out as a partner, please send a DM or comment for my Discord info!
With Southern Charm, kisses and tail wags -
Love, Audely

I've gone ahead and ripped a 3D Blu-Ray with the intent of watching it with my mother using file syncing.
Unfortunately when I watch the file in Bigscreen it seems to assume the file is Half SBS and it doesn't play properly.
I've googled this before and after coming here and posts from the developers themselves always say that full SBS is supported, yet I see no way to change from Half to Full.
To be clear: I have no interest in streaming my 4K monitor with the file open and using the SBS option there. I just want to play the local files.
Also I know the file plays properly because it plays perfectly using Virtual Desktop's video player in FSBS mode.
Is there a trick I'm missing?
EDIT - Apparently the "trick" I was missing was just using the native Quest app. Both the Steam version and the version in the Meta Quest Link app on PC both seem to only support Half SBS. Works like a charm in the native app.

ETA: this is a meta analysis and close read. I’m not treating this as news journalism but as non-fiction features writing, which is a far better encapsulation of what TAL and Serial do. Yes, it’s journalism but it’s a different category of journalism thab news writing.
I will start this off by saying I think Serial season one was balanced closer to guilty than not guilty. Sarah Koenig may not have come outright and said “I think he’s guilty” but she definitely wasn’t as soft on Adnan Syed as people think she was.
Anyway, getting to my point about True Story: Memoir, Murder, Mea Culpa (Mea Culpa from here on out): less than two years after the murder of Hae Min Lee, and just a few months after the 9/11 attacks that would define a generation, the body of a murdered four year old boy was discovered in the waters of Lint Slough. The bodies of his mother and younger sister were discovered five days later. The children’s father, Christian Longo, had murdered his entire family.
This would normally have been another banal and tragic instance of family annihilation by a heavily religious father who wanted out, were it not for the fact that Longo, while fleeing the country, chose to assume the name of a disgraced NYT journalist as his alias, not knowing that Michael Finkel, the source of his new identity, was currently in shambles after being summarily dismissed from his position after alleged and ultimately confirmed instances of journalistic malpractice.
Then Longo was arrested, chilling in Cancun like a drunken frat boy, and Michael Finkel had the journalistic version of a bolt from the blue.
I’m not going to “spoil” the book for you, but Longo killed his family. The book isn’t actually about discovering whether Longo did it. It’s a long form narrative of a journalist slowly realising he has been taken in my an incredibly charming sociopath.
The reason I ask, is because Serial, in my opinion, is the same type of narrative. It’s less about Sarah Koenig’s opinion on whether her subject is guilty or not guilty; rather, it takes the listener along her horrifying journey of realising that, yes, a perfectly pleasant, friendly, charming person who you have fondness for has murdered someone in cold blood.
I think that a guilteinnocenter framework is unhelpful in this case because I don’t think that was ever the point of Serial Season One. To me, the main “protagonist” so to speak isn’t Adnan Syed or Jay Wilds or even Hae Min Lee—it’s Sarah Koenig, and its deuteragonist is Sarah Koenig’s dying trust in Adnan Syed’s story.
Thoughts?

I want to see a live-action revival. Maybe we start with a Charmed reunion movie about Wyatt's wedding. Maybe Wyatt is marrying Marina, the daughter of Ava Nicolae, but she's cursed and they can't marry until the curse is broken or something. This could introduce us to the whole Halliwell family- Wyatt Matthew, Christopher Perry, Prudence Melinda, Priscilla Jane (P.J.) Parker Elise, Peyton Maria, Katherine Rose (Kat), Lana Mae & Henry Jr.
As for a revival series, the storyline could be something like this:
Setting: circa 2034, San Francisco
The Halliwell families have gathered to mourn the loss of their loved ones- Phoebe & Coop Halliwell. Their house was destroyed in an explosive attack that took their lives, and their daughters were left homeless. P.J. & Parker have moved into the Manor with their Aunt Piper, Uncle Leo & Cousin Mel. They've taken over the spare rooms that belonged to Wyatt & Chris (Wyatt moved into a condo with his wife Marina, and Chris lives at his club "Aftershock"- the former P3 which Piper gave him ownership of to focus on her restaurant). During the wake back at the Manor, Peyton asks her Aunt Piper if she can stay and live with them for awhile too, revealing that she's too emotionally distraught to go back to UCLA. Piper graciously tells her the Manor is her home too.
That night, Piper sneaks up to the attic to meet Paige who orbs in. Together, they secretly summon Grams & their mom Patty, as Piper knew it'd be pointless to try and summon Phoebe & Coop so soon after their deaths. But they wanted answers, and to understand why this happened. The Power of Three was now officially broken, with no long-lost sister to complete the trio. Grams explains that it's true that with Phoebe gone, Piper & Paige were no longer Charmed. But she assures them they still have their Wiccan powers, just not the collective Power of Three. Patty adds that the Power of Three was not gone, only dormant. Paige asks how they're supposed to vanquish the demons who killed Phoebe and Coop without the Power of Three? Grams replies that they can't. Piper flips out and blows something up in anger. Parker, who had been secretly listening behind the attic door, freaks at the sound and runs back downstairs before she's found eavesdropping. It is then that Grams clarifies. It is not Piper and Paige who will vanquish the demons responsible, but the new Charmed Ones. Paige asks "and who are the new Charmed Ones supposed to be?" Patty replies, "the ones whose powers were bound by their mother" to which Piper reluctantly recalls "who had a terrifying vision of their very evil future."
Phoebe's daughters are each dealing with their parent's deaths differently. P.J. is in denial, using her career as a photojournalist and her sexual trysts with her friend Trent Newsom to numb the pain away. Peyton is fighting through waves of depression, finding comfort with her cousin Mel and Aunt Piper. And Parker...well she's pissed. Her outlet starts with beating the crap out of big guys at the local gym using her MMA skills and progresses to her going full slayer mode & hunting down demons & vampires with her satchel of potions, backup spells, and a set of wooden stakes. But Parker is also feeling guilty. Guilty that she didn’t have the power to save her parents. Guilty that she survived while her parents died trying to protect their powerless daughter. After all, she was the only one home with them that night. P.J. was out with Trent and Peyton was away at college. She swears to herself that she will avenge her parents death, and find the demons responsible. But before she can do that she needs to find a way to trigger the long dormant powers she knows she has somewhere deep inside.
At some point after this, we discover that the BOS has been kept locked away in the attic for years. We learn this happened after a Christmas debacle involving a 14 year old Chris accidentally summoning Goblins, wrecking havoc on the manor, injuring a few, and which led to the sisters deciding it was best for their young kids to practice magic at Magic School and keep the BOS from them until they were mature enough to handle it. Parker finds out Mel knows where the key to the Attic is.
On a dark, stormy night, beneath the light of a full moon, Parker swipes the key from her aunt's bedroom while she's away at work, and sneaks into the attic. She finds the dusty old BOS in its rightful place and starts flipping through it looking for the demons who killed her parents. A teary eyed Peyton walks in and asks what Parker's doing up there. But before Parker can reply, the BOS starts flipping on its own, landing on the Dominus Trinus invocation. As Parker begins to read the invocation aloud, P.J. arrives from work. She calls out "Hey anyone home?" As Parker completes the reading, the Manor begins to shake, P.J. holds onto the staircases banister for support and looks up to see the chandelier glowing a bright PINK color. The shaking stops, right as the power goes out. P.J. whips out her phone flashlight and runs up the stairs frantically calling for her sisters.
(INSERT BIG SISTER SCOLDING HERE)
Holding her phone flashlight over the BOS, Parker can't find the demons responsible for her parents murder. P.J. makes her lock the attic back up and put the key back where she found it before their Aunt finds out. Parker shrugs her off and says she's heading to Magic School to find answers. P.J. & Peyton pursue her down the stairs....
MY REASONING
Phoebe & Coop dying would allow for Alyssa & Victor to return only in certain episodes as spirits. And thus, allow some space between the actresses....
Of course, this would be set sometime in the 2030's, so Holly, Rose & Alyssa could play 60-year-old versions of themselves & Wes & Drew could pull off being in their early 30's with a shave, some hair dye & make-up. All the kids would be anywhere from 22-32 years old.
ALSO, I want to see Shannen back playing Prue as either an Elder or Angel of Destiny. My headcanon says she was turned into an Angel of Death for a few years after her demise to learn to accept it. When the Elders or Angels of Destiny saw that she had finally accepted it, she was promoted to either an Elder or Angel of Destiny😉
THE LOST YEARS (2007-2011) Phoebe was into holistic care and decided to give birth to all her daughters in the Manor, the way she was born, with help from Leo & her sisters. She thought it was "safe" since they "destroyed" the Nexus. But by the time she gave birth, the spiritual energy from the Nexus had begun to refill itself, making her daughter's just as susceptible to turn evil as she and Wyatt were.
(2012/2013?) When her daughters were little, they were briefly kidnapped by the demonic sorcerer Corvalus who had found the wizard Glenwyn's scroll containing a prophecy about a new Charmed Power, a new trio of sisters, arising from the Warren line that could be swayed to evil. He then kidnapped Phoebe's daughters, believing them to be the fulfillment of this prophecy, to raise them evil. When the Charmed Ones found Corvalus, vanquished him, and rescued the girls, Phoebe touched Glenwyn's scroll and had an astral vision that her daughters would become the "evil Charmed Ones" controlled by some unknown Great Evil in the future. To prevent this and protect them, she bound their powers. Her daughters grew up having only basic witch powers like spellcasting, scrying, potions, etc... and believing the lie their mother told them their whole lives- that they were just late bloomers like their Aunt Paige and that "someday" their powers would kick in.
That's a bit of what I have right now.... let me know what you think, or what you'd improve?

Hi all, have gone through several iterations of this query already from my edits and writing circles, plus looked through the resources on here. I'm at the point where the words are swimming, so I am excited to get your critique on board! All feedback helps. Also attaching my opening 300 words. I do have a title but leaving blank for now for traceability, hope that's okay!
To note: I swap out my comps based on agent interests. Other comps include Ready Player One, Camp Zero, Feed, Elysium (film). The constant is Black Mirror. Open to thoughts! I know comping blockbusters is a no-no, which ironically I have done here with HG, but it truly is what best describes the post-capitalist society of haves and have-nots/themes of media exploitation I've written. If I am specific about it, do you think it is okay?
Dear AGENT,
Eighteen-year-old Yojana “Hanny” Marks is unremarkable, which is brutal in a near-future where Atmosphere buys talent for cash in their annual auction. Desperate to pay for her mother’s cancer treatment, she bargains the only thing she has in a Faustian deal with the tech corp - Her memories.
Enter HanSim: An immersive virtual reality game where players unlock the limitless pathways of Hanny’s future, built from the memories she sold. Mortified, she would much rather escape to her Louisiana bayou refuge. Instead she’s yanked across the Continent and into the spotlight by the enigmatic Jaxon Dewinton, an influential (and annoying) activist sponsoring HanSim. In the glitzy Arctic capitol of New Churchill, it’s hard to build trust when everyone - Jaxon included - seems to know her future well before she does. The game takes a turn when anarchy breaks loose in the virtual world, and players find unchecked possibilities for good and corruption... And revolution. Only so many puppeteers may handle the threads of her fate before she must struggle to wrest control for herself.
Complete at 87k words, [TITLE] is a YA crossover science fiction/dystopian novel, featuring a star-crossed romance B-plot. This story is for fans of Black Mirror, bringing a dark twist on the premise of infinite realities in Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library, and is reminiscent of the sociopolitical world building in Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games. [PERSONALIZATION.]
[SHORT BIO].
Thank you for your time. If you'd like to see what pathways you could unlock in the Simulation, you can contact me per the details in my signature.
[SIGNATURE]
FIRST 300 WORDS
I knew taking the shortcut under the stilts was a bad idea when the body swung into my path, hanging from the scaffolding like a puppet. The dead girl rhythmically swayed, as if she were listening to the distant blues music from the celebrations up above. The haunting symphony continued as she tinkled amongst a deteriorating variety of talismans and charms. These petty voodoo relics were a mockery of the lost city of New Orleans, and a poor excuse for the bad energy plaguing our town’s underbelly. It wasn’t the hexes that killed the girl.
I clung to the damp shadows as I assessed the lynched corpse. She was near my age, but too bloated to recognize. Judging by the flies circling her neck, she had been dead for a few hours. No immediate danger, then. My sigh of relief turned into a retch as the stench wafted through the humid air. Mixed with the usual smell under the stilts of rotting wood, mildew, and stale urine… I needed to move on before it was joined by vomit.
I shuddered and scurried away, side-stepping around puddles and swill in an attempt to cushion my footsteps. This proved difficult because the ground was more bog than dirt; a patient open-mouthed monster slowly devouring my town. The marshy earth swallowed another few millimeters of Franklinton each year, so the stilts were shackled together haphazardly, built upwards in a snail-paced panic. If we ever questioned our fate, all we had to do was look out in the bay where New Orleans was now an underwater resort for the elite Advanced
I gagged again as a wriggling maggot fell onto my scalp. I batted it off frantically, letting out an instinctive cry of disgust.

Hello everyone,
This is my first post. I’ve been watching Dr. K’s videos for about a month or two now, and I want to share some realizations I’ve had from watching them. I just watched the first 45 minutes of today’s live stream on “sh*t life syndrome,” up to the part where he starts addressing how to fix the syndrome. I don’t think I have it right now, but I can see myself developing it in the future.
I’ve been fortunate in many ways. I’m an Indian growing up in a wealthy American suburb with a lot of Asians near me. I’ll share a bit of my personal story to provide context.
I was a super positive, outgoing child, probably because my dad was very extroverted. I was also good at sports and considered academically gifted. In that aspect, my life was great. I had a lot of friends and did everything I wanted—I felt like the king of the world. But at home, my parents fought every morning, and although they tried to shield me and my brother, we could still hear their screams. They even got physical to the point where they tried to kill each other, and the police were called. My father wasn’t abusive, but he cheated. I didn’t understand why there was so much negativity until my mother told me when I was 6 or 7.
When I was 3, my parents started to separate, with one living in an old condo they had before moving into our current house. They switched every few months, and when I was 4, they moved back in together. Without any knowledge of this, on the last day of kindergarten (when I was 6), my mother took me and my brother to an apartment, and we started living there. My brother (5 years older than me) and I would live with my dad on the weekends, but as time passed, my mom wanted weekends with us too, so we only saw our dad every other weekend.
I loved my father a lot back then. He was a great dad—playing baseball with me during the day, biking around our subdivision, and indulging in fun activities at night like watching movies, playing games, or making music together. When I was 7 or 8, he got me a drum set and lessons. In June 2013, when I was 9, he passed away from a heart attack due to diabetes. Coincidentally, my parents were officially getting divorced two days after he died, and the day after was our school’s field day, which got canceled due to rain.
During the years my parents were separated, I preferred staying with my dad. My mom was strict and had anger issues, though she wasn’t very abusive—just the classic Indian mom slaps. Despite this, I loved her, but even at 6 or 7, I threatened to kill myself multiple times and even grabbed a knife once. I think this mindset has been there since then. When everyone around me criticizes me, I get thoughts of just living for them like a puppet and then eventually killing myself. In the end, I had to mentally side with my mother and demonize my father because he was dead and had cheated on her. Since then, I’ve always tried to be tolerant of my mother and avoid negative thoughts about her. These decisions have had repercussions. Subconsciously, I started to hate my mother, likely for making me hate my father. I couldn’t express my emotions—I couldn’t cry or be angry. I had been a big crybaby before, but after my dad’s death, I rarely cried, even at his cremation.
Over time, I became very disconnected from my emotions. Recently, I came to a theory: the parts of my father that I resembled, I locked away because of how my mother spoke of him. The extroverted, charming, and optimistic parts of me disappeared. By 9th grade, I didn’t know why I was living. When COVID hit in my 10th grade, it was almost a saving grace. My grades were slipping, and I played more video games. During quarantine, I reconnected with my best friend, and we spent a lot more time together. Our friend group started having more group calls, and I got into a relationship with a girl, which made me see a life I wanted to live for myself, not for others.
Both of us had issues, and I realized I needed to deal with mine before getting into a relationship. During our time together, I had a huge issue with pathologically lying to maintain appearances. I still lie today, mainly to my family, about things like my GPA to escape judgment. Every move I make, every word I say, gets judged by them. They even critique my vocabulary and how much I smile and laugh. This constant scrutiny has led to the life I am living today.
After my breakup with my girlfriend, I decided to try therapy again because I realized I had unresolved issues. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to open up, making it a waste of time and money, except for a book my therapist recommended, “Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself,” which helped open my eyes a bit. After reading this book and starting college, my life was improving, and I was happy. However, it quickly deteriorated as my family began pressuring me about job placement. Since October 2023, two months into my second year in college, there have been many times when I feel there’s no point in waking up tomorrow. The expected path for me is to climb the corporate ladder. When I think of that, all I see is slaving away, working 100 hours a week, around superficial people, building wealth, giving it to my family, and then disappearing to another country where I can actually be happy. Alternatively, I imagine going somewhere, partying, doing drugs, and overdosing, or simply killing myself in my early to mid-30s.
I can envision lives where I could be happy, but there is pressure from my family to pursue a corporate career and secure a six-figure job. While I don’t dislike money, I can’t see a happy life whilst chasing it—it feels so useless and pointless. I’ve expressed my desire to do other things with my life to my family. My family isn’t necessarily against it, but there are high expectations for me. Growing up as the prodigy child with a high IQ, I was always expected to outperform my older brother. Because of these expectations, I’m constantly compared to others who were in my place in college not too long ago.
I tried to get into investment banking because it’s high-paying and well-respected, but I’ve had no luck with that or any other internships, even with local small firms. I’m a finance major, and after coming home from college two weeks ago, I feel like I’m constantly criticized and judged. If I make food, they comment on how much time I have. If I don’t eat, they say I’m depressed and that I can’t be too busy to eat. I genuinely believe I am depressed, I have issues related back to my childhood where I have locked off parts of me, and I want to do therapy for it but don’t know possibly when. I’m frustrated that life isn’t turning out as I hoped.
I’ve spent over 1000 hours in the past 2-3 years applying for internships but have landed none. It’s frustrating because all that time could have been spent doing things I actually want to do and building a life I want to live. I’m currently doing an unpaid internship through a family friend because I needed something on my resume, along with an externship, networking, interview prep, and mindlessly applying. I don’t know how to live a life at home without constant criticism, and I don’t know what to do. I have pathways I want to pursue but lack the time and energy to commit to them properly. I know that putting in little effort once a week isn’t enough—they need commitment. I don’t believe I have a terrible life, but I feel like I’m heading down that path. I genuinely don’t know what to do. When I came home, I planned to focus Monday and Tuesday on my internship and externship work, Wednesday and Thursday on what I genuinely want to do, Friday on my research, Saturday on playing guitar, painting, and doing anything creative, and Sunday on personal development (watching Dr. K videos, miscellaneous stuff, and journaling about my childhood). But since my brother came back and he works from home, he constantly talks about how his girlfriend and all her friends got internships sophomore year summer, and she was in finance and it was only last year too, and asks me to do stuff around the house (which I don’t mind) but he asks in a way acting like I have all the time in the world and I am doing nothing. This leads me to being pressured to apply for internships, network, and interview prep, that I did not plan to do this summer or want to. After living like that for 2-3 days working for 18-20 hours a day I get angry internally and pessimistic and start to dread and hate my life. Then I coop myself in my room the next days, watch tv or anything that’s brainrot and act like I’m working while I do like 1-2 hours of work that day.
I honestly don’t know how to fix this. I’ve tried adopting good habits and ignoring the criticism from my family, and it works temporarily, but that’s all it is—temporary. I don’t necessarily blame my family; my mother is pretty supportive of anything I do nowadays. It’s more the overall image and fear of people looking down on me and badmouthing me. The only one who directly criticizes me the most is my brother, and even then, his intentions are usually good; it’s just the way he goes about it, along with my mother and brother undermining my actions. I know I left a lot here, and I have a lot of problems to deal with. I have high levels of anxiety, I’ve suppressed a lot of my emotions to the point where they bottle up and seep out
What I’ve done in the past: Consistently workout Socialize and have fun, actually enjoy my life Gratitude Journal daily Weekly journal Mindful Meditation daily Proper morning and nightly routine

(Childhood) Ronnie and Reggie Kray were infamous gangsters who rose to power in the East End of London in the 1950s and 60s. While their adult lives have been well-documented, less is known about their childhood. Born in 1933 in Bethnal Green East London, the Kray twins were the youngest of four children. Their father, Charlie Kray was a boxer and their mother, Violet was a homemaker. The family lived in a small house in the poverty-stricken area of East London, where violence and crime were common. The twins were inseparable from an early age, and they looked out for each other in the rough environment in which they grew up in. Both Ronnie and Reggie struggled in school and understood that they could not succeed academically, this led to them eventually dropping out. (Jones, T. 2015) Instead they spent their days roaming the streets of East London until they decided to take after their father in the sport of boxing, later becoming local champions. Ronnie and Reggie became popular due to their dangerous fighting style’s.
(The beginning of their criminal careers) As the brothers reached their teenage years, they became known for their charm and charisma. They had an ability to win people over, and they quickly became popular within their community. It was during this time that they began to associate with some of the most notorious criminals in the East End and begin their own criminal careers. Ronnie and Reggie began to gain a reputation for their violent and ruthless behaviour. Over the course of their teenage years, they were involved in numerous incidents of petty theft, extortion, and illegal gambling activities. By their early 20s their criminal careers had escalated with Ronnie and Reggie beginning their own gang operating in east London which was named “the Firm” (Nuttman, D. 2023) This was the beginning of construction for an empire that would later take over the criminal underworld of East end London.
(Building their empire) by the 1950s, the Krays began to use intimidation and violence on nightclub and business owners to take over. The Krays had a network of clubs, bars and betting shops that provided them with lucrative income streams, these were often visited by celebrities and high socialite figures in which the brothers-built connections with. These included: politicians, celebrities and other influential people of the era which helped them further their influence and allowed them to operate in illegal activities with impunity from law enforcement. Their notoriety peaked in the 1960s, the Kray’s were now considered as the wealthiest and most powerful gangsters in London. It was during this period that they escalated to more serious manners of criminal activity ranging from protection rackets, gambling, extortion, and murder.
(Rivalries) (Richardson, E. 2019) The Kray Brothers had many rivals and enemies during their reign of terror in London. Their most famous rivalry was with the Richardson Gang, but they also had numerous other enemies who they clashed with over territory, power, and respect. The Richardsons were another infamous gangster family in London, and they had their own network of criminal activities. The Kray Brothers and the Richardsons had several violent confrontations, which resulted in numerous injuries and even deaths. This rivalry was fuelled by a deep hatred between the two families, as well as their desire to control the criminal underworld of London.
Another major rival of the Kray Brothers was the South London Gang, who controlled southern London. They often clashed with the Kray Brothers over territorial disputes which often led to violent confrontations between the two groups, with many people getting hurt or even killed. They also had a bitter rivalry with Billy Hill, a former gangster who was known for his violent temper and his close ties to the American mafia. One of the most infamous moments in the Krays’ criminal career came in March 1966, when Ronnie Kray shot and killed rival gang member George Cornell in the Blind Beggar pub in Whitechapel. The murder was witnessed by dozens of people, but nobody was willing to testify against the Krays, and the murder remains unsolved to this day.
(Reggie Kray's relationships) In terms of relationships, Reggie had several romantic relationships throughout his life. One of his most well-known partners was a woman named Frances Shea, the sister of a friend and member of the firm, Frank Shea. The two began dating in the early 1960s and had married in 1965. The Marriage was brief, Frances had left him within a matter of weeks however, on paper the marriage continued for another two years. Frances had lived in fear of Reggie until her suicide of a pill overdose at the age of 23. It was said that Frances struggled with depression and the pressures of being in a relationship with a notorious criminal like Reggie. He married his second wife Roberta Jones in 1997 and remained with her for the rest of his life. (Astardjieva, M. 2022)
In addition to his romantic relationships, Reggie had a close relationship with his brother Ronnie. The two were inseparable. However, their relationship was not always smooth sailing. Ronnie was known for being violent and would often lash out at those around him. This caused tension between the two brothers at times, but they always managed to maintain their bond. Reggie also had friendly relationships with a range of celebrities throughout his life. He was known to socialise with high-profile people such as Barbara Windsor, Judy Garland, and even Princess Margaret. These relationships provided Reggie with a sense of status and power within their social circles Overall, Reggie Kray had a complex web of relationships throughout his life.
(Ronnie Kray's relationships) Ronnie Kray had many relationships throughout his life, most notably with his brother Reggie. His other relationships included his controversial homosexual relationships, His friendships to known criminals, politicians, and business partners.
Ronnie Kray was openly bisexual. In the early 1960s Ronnie Kray had planned to marry a woman named Monica he had dated for over three years however never fulfilled his plans. His most high-profile romantic relationship was with Lord Boothby, a Conservative politician who he allegedly had a sexual relationship with. This relationship was revealed in a scandalous newspaper in 1964, which caused a media sensation. (MacAskill, G. 2022) Lord Boothby maintained that he was never involved with Ronnie, but the damage had been done.
In terms of friendships, Ronnie had a close friendship with his driver, unofficial bodyguard, and personal assistant Tony Lambrianou. The two became close after Tony was recruited by the Krays, and they were later convicted together in 1969 for the murder of Jack "The Hat" McVitie, which was a turning point in the downfall of the Krays.
Ronnie Kray's business partnerships were also important. One of his most successful partnerships was with his brother Reggie, as together, they built an extensive criminal network in London. However, Ronnie had a problem maintaining his composure and would often take major mood swings and act erratic as he developed paranoia throughout his criminal career. This made it hard for Reggie to maintain close to his brother as Ronnie would carry out random acts of violence.
(Mental health) Although Reggie Kray was never diagnosed with any mental health illnesses, there is evidence to suggest he may have suffered from depression with the sudden death of his wife, Frances Shea. Furthermore, during his reign in the criminal underworld Reggie was involved in gruesome acts of violence including murder, therefore there could have been more underlying mental health issues that was never uncovered. As for Ronnie, prison psychiatrists examined him and declared him to be educationally subnormal, psychopathic, paranoid schizophrenic and insane (Daly, P. 2022). This makes sense given the character of Ronnie Kray. He was known to be erratic, violent, and unpredictable during his reign of terror. One circumstance being the shooting of rival gang member George Cornell, in the middle of the well-known Whitechapel blind beggar pub in broad daylight. Another factor in the Kray Empire's downfall can be attributed to the personal problems of the twins themselves. Ronnie struggled with mental health issues, in particular living with schizophrenia. His increasingly erratic behaviour and violent outbursts began to impact the ability to run their criminal network effectively and undermined their support among their own gang members. Reggie struggled to maintain a healthy relationship with his brother as he continued to spiral.
(Downfall) The Kray Empire was one of the most notorious criminal organisations in British history. The twins, Ronnie, and Reggie Kray, rose to power in the 1950s and 1960s, controlling a large criminal network that included gambling, protection rackets, and murder. However, their empire came to a crashing end in the 1960s, as law enforcement agencies and rivals began to close in on them.
One factor in the downfall of the Kray Empire was the rise of violence that erupted within the criminal underworld in the 1960s. The Krays had made enemies through territorial disputes and through their ruthless tactics. Several rival gangs were keen to take them down. One being, the Richardson Gang, who had been involved in a long-running feud with the Krays.
One of the main reasons for the downfall of the Kray empire was increased investigation from authorities. The twins had been able to operate with relative impunity for many years due to their connections within the police force and among politicians. However, as their empire grew, so did the attention of the media and the authorities. In 1964, the Metropolitan Police set up Operation Leopard, which aimed to gather intelligence on the Krays and their associates. (Lewis, P 2008) This led to the arrest in 1968 and conviction of the twins in 1969 for the murder of gangster Jack McVitie. Despite their wealth and power, the Kray brothers reign of terror was short lived and in 1968 the trial of the Kray brothers began. It was one of the most high-profile cases in British history, and they were convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. The Kray brothers were sent to separate prisons, and their empire crumbled.
(Legacy) Despite the nature of their activities, the Krays were seen by some in their community as Robin Hood figures, who would offer to help those in need. Their story has been the plot of numerous books, plays, and films over the years, including the 1990 hit movie "The Krays" directed by Peter Medak, and the recent release of the film "Legend," starring Tom Hardy as both Ronnie and Reggie. The Krays represented a dangerous and exciting rebellion.
Another aspect of the legacy of the Krays is the way in which they have entered popular culture. Their story has been romanticised in films and television, with the twins often portrayed as charismatic anti-heroes battling against a corrupt system. This has helped to keep their legend alive, as audiences continue to be drawn to stories of charismatic criminals.
(conclusion) In conclusion, the rise and fall of the Kray twins, Ronnie, and Reggie, was one of the most notorious chapters in British criminal history. The Kray brothers rose to fame in the 1960s as the gangsters who ruled the streets of London's East End with an iron fist and for a time, the Krays power seemed invincible, and they were seen as untouchable by the police and the authorities. Their power was based on fear and intimidation, and it was only a matter of time before their downfall. In 1968, their time had come. The trial was a media sensation, and the evidence against the Krays was overwhelming. They were both found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. The rise and fall of the Kray twins bring a fascinating tale of ambition, power, and corruption. Their story is a classic reminder that “Poverty is the parent of rebellion and crime.” (Aristotle, 0400 BC)

(Childhood) Ronnie and Reggie Kray were infamous gangsters who rose to power in the East End of London in the 1950s and 60s. While their adult lives have been well-documented, less is known about their childhood. Born in 1933 in Bethnal Green East London, the Kray twins were the youngest of four children. Their father, Charlie Kray was a boxer and their mother, Violet was a homemaker. The family lived in a small house in the poverty-stricken area of East London, where violence and crime were common. The twins were inseparable from an early age, and they looked out for each other in the rough environment in which they grew up in. Both Ronnie and Reggie struggled in school and understood that they could not succeed academically, this led to them eventually dropping out. (Jones, T. 2015) Instead they spent their days roaming the streets of East London until they decided to take after their father in the sport of boxing, later becoming local champions. Ronnie and Reggie became popular due to their dangerous fighting style’s.
(The beginning of their criminal careers) As the brothers reached their teenage years, they became known for their charm and charisma. They had an ability to win people over, and they quickly became popular within their community. It was during this time that they began to associate with some of the most notorious criminals in the East End and begin their own criminal careers. Ronnie and Reggie began to gain a reputation for their violent and ruthless behaviour. Over the course of their teenage years, they were involved in numerous incidents of petty theft, extortion, and illegal gambling activities. By their early 20s their criminal careers had escalated with Ronnie and Reggie beginning their own gang operating in east London which was named “the Firm” (Nuttman, D. 2023) This was the beginning of construction for an empire that would later take over the criminal underworld of East end London.
(Building their empire) by the 1950s, the Krays began to use intimidation and violence on nightclub and business owners to take over. The Krays had a network of clubs, bars and betting shops that provided them with lucrative income streams, these were often visited by celebrities and high socialite figures in which the brothers-built connections with. These included: politicians, celebrities and other influential people of the era which helped them further their influence and allowed them to operate in illegal activities with impunity from law enforcement. Their notoriety peaked in the 1960s, the Kray’s were now considered as the wealthiest and most powerful gangsters in London. It was during this period that they escalated to more serious manners of criminal activity ranging from protection rackets, gambling, extortion, and murder.
(Rivalries) (Richardson, E. 2019) The Kray Brothers had many rivals and enemies during their reign of terror in London. Their most famous rivalry was with the Richardson Gang, but they also had numerous other enemies who they clashed with over territory, power, and respect. The Richardsons were another infamous gangster family in London, and they had their own network of criminal activities. The Kray Brothers and the Richardsons had several violent confrontations, which resulted in numerous injuries and even deaths. This rivalry was fuelled by a deep hatred between the two families, as well as their desire to control the criminal underworld of London.
Another major rival of the Kray Brothers was the South London Gang, who controlled southern London. They often clashed with the Kray Brothers over territorial disputes which often led to violent confrontations between the two groups, with many people getting hurt or even killed. They also had a bitter rivalry with Billy Hill, a former gangster who was known for his violent temper and his close ties to the American mafia. One of the most infamous moments in the Krays’ criminal career came in March 1966, when Ronnie Kray shot and killed rival gang member George Cornell in the Blind Beggar pub in Whitechapel. The murder was witnessed by dozens of people, but nobody was willing to testify against the Krays, and the murder remains unsolved to this day.
(Reggie Kray's relationships) In terms of relationships, Reggie had several romantic relationships throughout his life. One of his most well-known partners was a woman named Frances Shea, the sister of a friend and member of the firm, Frank Shea. The two began dating in the early 1960s and had married in 1965. The Marriage was brief, Frances had left him within a matter of weeks however, on paper the marriage continued for another two years. Frances had lived in fear of Reggie until her suicide of a pill overdose at the age of 23. It was said that Frances struggled with depression and the pressures of being in a relationship with a notorious criminal like Reggie. He married his second wife Roberta Jones in 1997 and remained with her for the rest of his life. (Astardjieva, M. 2022)
In addition to his romantic relationships, Reggie had a close relationship with his brother Ronnie. The two were inseparable. However, their relationship was not always smooth sailing. Ronnie was known for being violent and would often lash out at those around him. This caused tension between the two brothers at times, but they always managed to maintain their bond. Reggie also had friendly relationships with a range of celebrities throughout his life. He was known to socialise with high-profile people such as Barbara Windsor, Judy Garland, and even Princess Margaret. These relationships provided Reggie with a sense of status and power within their social circles Overall, Reggie Kray had a complex web of relationships throughout his life.
(Ronnie Kray's relationships) Ronnie Kray had many relationships throughout his life, most notably with his brother Reggie. His other relationships included his controversial homosexual relationships, His friendships to known criminals, politicians, and business partners.
Ronnie Kray was openly bisexual. In the early 1960s Ronnie Kray had planned to marry a woman named Monica he had dated for over three years however never fulfilled his plans. His most high-profile romantic relationship was with Lord Boothby, a Conservative politician who he allegedly had a sexual relationship with. This relationship was revealed in a scandalous newspaper in 1964, which caused a media sensation. (MacAskill, G. 2022) Lord Boothby maintained that he was never involved with Ronnie, but the damage had been done.
In terms of friendships, Ronnie had a close friendship with his driver, unofficial bodyguard, and personal assistant Tony Lambrianou. The two became close after Tony was recruited by the Krays, and they were later convicted together in 1969 for the murder of Jack "The Hat" McVitie, which was a turning point in the downfall of the Krays.
Ronnie Kray's business partnerships were also important. One of his most successful partnerships was with his brother Reggie, as together, they built an extensive criminal network in London. However, Ronnie had a problem maintaining his composure and would often take major mood swings and act erratic as he developed paranoia throughout his criminal career. This made it hard for Reggie to maintain close to his brother as Ronnie would carry out random acts of violence.
(Mental health) Although Reggie Kray was never diagnosed with any mental health illnesses, there is evidence to suggest he may have suffered from depression with the sudden death of his wife, Frances Shea. Furthermore, during his reign in the criminal underworld Reggie was involved in gruesome acts of violence including murder, therefore there could have been more underlying mental health issues that was never uncovered. As for Ronnie, prison psychiatrists examined him and declared him to be educationally subnormal, psychopathic, paranoid schizophrenic and insane (Daly, P. 2022). This makes sense given the character of Ronnie Kray. He was known to be erratic, violent, and unpredictable during his reign of terror. One circumstance being the shooting of rival gang member George Cornell, in the middle of the well-known Whitechapel blind beggar pub in broad daylight. Another factor in the Kray Empire's downfall can be attributed to the personal problems of the twins themselves. Ronnie struggled with mental health issues, in particular living with schizophrenia. His increasingly erratic behaviour and violent outbursts began to impact the ability to run their criminal network effectively and undermined their support among their own gang members. Reggie struggled to maintain a healthy relationship with his brother as he continued to spiral.
(Downfall) The Kray Empire was one of the most notorious criminal organisations in British history. The twins, Ronnie, and Reggie Kray, rose to power in the 1950s and 1960s, controlling a large criminal network that included gambling, protection rackets, and murder. However, their empire came to a crashing end in the 1960s, as law enforcement agencies and rivals began to close in on them.
One factor in the downfall of the Kray Empire was the rise of violence that erupted within the criminal underworld in the 1960s. The Krays had made enemies through territorial disputes and through their ruthless tactics. Several rival gangs were keen to take them down. One being, the Richardson Gang, who had been involved in a long-running feud with the Krays.
One of the main reasons for the downfall of the Kray empire was increased investigation from authorities. The twins had been able to operate with relative impunity for many years due to their connections within the police force and among politicians. However, as their empire grew, so did the attention of the media and the authorities. In 1964, the Metropolitan Police set up Operation Leopard, which aimed to gather intelligence on the Krays and their associates. (Lewis, P 2008) This led to the arrest in 1968 and conviction of the twins in 1969 for the murder of gangster Jack McVitie. Despite their wealth and power, the Kray brothers reign of terror was short lived and in 1968 the trial of the Kray brothers began. It was one of the most high-profile cases in British history, and they were convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. The Kray brothers were sent to separate prisons, and their empire crumbled.
(Legacy) Despite the nature of their activities, the Krays were seen by some in their community as Robin Hood figures, who would offer to help those in need. Their story has been the plot of numerous books, plays, and films over the years, including the 1990 hit movie "The Krays" directed by Peter Medak, and the recent release of the film "Legend," starring Tom Hardy as both Ronnie and Reggie. The Krays represented a dangerous and exciting rebellion.
Another aspect of the legacy of the Krays is the way in which they have entered popular culture. Their story has been romanticised in films and television, with the twins often portrayed as charismatic anti-heroes battling against a corrupt system. This has helped to keep their legend alive, as audiences continue to be drawn to stories of charismatic criminals.
(conclusion) In conclusion, the rise and fall of the Kray twins, Ronnie, and Reggie, was one of the most notorious chapters in British criminal history. The Kray brothers rose to fame in the 1960s as the gangsters who ruled the streets of London's East End with an iron fist and for a time, the Krays power seemed invincible, and they were seen as untouchable by the police and the authorities. Their power was based on fear and intimidation, and it was only a matter of time before their downfall. In 1968, their time had come. The trial was a media sensation, and the evidence against the Krays was overwhelming. They were both found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. The rise and fall of the Kray twins bring a fascinating tale of ambition, power, and corruption. Their story is a classic reminder that “Poverty is the parent of rebellion and crime.” (Aristotle, 0400 BC)

I spent my years as a little girl trying so hard to be anything else OTHER than "just a little girl" because I was raised in a heavily religious and Latino household where being born a girl basically determined that you'd be forgotten and ignored. Any accomplishments you put in the effort to complete in the hopes of maybe some sort of parental attention was almost always steamrolled over to make room for other sub-par things your brother, uncles, or nephews did.
So I became this little angry girl who studied hard. Up until puberty at 11 quickly beat my spirit to pieces with a wave of depression that wouldn't ever fully go away or recede far enough into the horizon enough for me to get comfortable ever again in my skin without fear of drowning in my own emotions that at that time I simply labeled "useless and stupid."
I was 5 years old when I remember my Dad ripping and cutting these little heart shaped dangly charms off of the hem of a pastel printed dress I really liked. He didn't like that they skimmed my little kid ankles. He called the outfit "whore practice" clothing and made sure I knew only girls "asking for bad attention" wore "outfits like that." I quickly stopped wearing my earrings too as he once yelled at my mom so hard about the size of these tiny hoop earrings she had once put on me. He accused my mom of buying me "adult" earrings so after that she never got me another pair. To make matters worse he abused my mother, oftentimes ruining her dresses and outfits too because he claimed she was "dressing to get another man" so she could leave.
I had to be the strong one, at 7 years old. I would sometimes watch Cardcaptor Sakura (when it aired in English in the U.S., late 90s/early 00's) or Sailor Moon and I would draw pictures of what I imagined I would look like if I had a cool magical dress. These girls got to fight crime while being pretty. Pam Grier could fight crime and look gorgeous, but I had to watch her in secret on my own time. Tarantino really hit me hard with how strong he makes his female leads too. I mean sure yeah weirdo foot stuff, but Uma Thurman is depicted as this angel faced beautiful charming woman but who is dedicated and deadly and can kill if her life is at stake or anyone tries to get in her way. The women in Death Proof totally kicked ass while being pretty at the same time. I had a girl crush on She-Ra and also on Star Fire and Lady Death from the horror comics my uncle would borrow and I'd find, not even realizing how raunchy the art was. The women were strong. The women were fiercely beautiful. They could fight.
My mom would then marry another idiot when I was 10. A conservative raised little mommy's boy shit stain of a man who took joy in picking on literal children for things they could not control. Total narcissist. His mom was a 1950's housewife who had passed away but her control over how he dressed and acted eventually spilled onto me. Why am I in a dress today? which boy am I trying to impress? Nevermind that it's 96 degrees Fahrenheit in a middle school with no A/C, I MUST be wearing a knee length skirt at 12 because OBVIOUSLY a boy told me to wear it so he could touch me.....there was no rational thinking. I was taught that being even a little feminine or expressing femininity was a definite horrendous declaration of "omgeee please touch me, I'm stupid and want 100 babies!!!" By 14 years old I didn't own a single other skirt or dress except for some black dresses meant for funerals and one white skirt I buried in the back of the closet.
I ate my feelings. I ate and ate and ate and ate because I felt so empty. I was limited from 14 to 17 to only big flared oversized jeans and boys tshirts. My stepfather was a big believer in clearing your plate plus he just loved food. He was over 400 lbs himself, and while my siblings and I didn't go to regular doctors exams we simply just gained weight recklessly as we would be punished for leaving anything behind on our plates while our stepfather would make weekly $300 purchases on more and more and more just food food food. So then, at 14, I just had no idea I would never see 225lbs again until over a decade later. By 16 I was nearing 300 lbs and wanted to die. I was watching other more normal healthy weighted girls grow into beautiful women all around me. Filling out dresses, wearing cute tops, actually being able to purchase clothing they liked with no worries. I'll never forget shopping for the dress I wore for my Senior Yearbook photos. My mom planned a "girls day out" for us to go and find a dress at a mall. I was ecstatic. I asked my mother maybe 15 times if she was SURE and CERTAIN we were going to get me a dress. The literal DAY OF the trip my stepfather had a "change of heart" and insisted the entire family go to the mall together. I found a dress. Bright Teal/Blue. Checker patterned. It had a wide rounded scoop neck, a very flowy skater-type skirt, and the Mannequin at the store had the dress paired with red flats and these beautiful blue-bird earrings. I put the dress on and in that instant I just felt so pretty that I almost forgot who I was and out loud asked "are you FUCKING serious?!" when I stepped out of the fitting room with it on and my stepdad just kept loudly snorting and laughing at me. He made me put that beautiful dress back and honestly my heart was so broken that even 7 years ago when I was 25 I was still actively looking for it on Mercari and at other Plus Size secondhand clothing sites. I ended up wearing this absolutely hideous brown and beige old woman slip style wrap dress with this ugly tacky red border. I looked like someone's secretary job having mom and the dress just further highlighted my lack of actual breasts and lack of a waist. So when Prom rolled around and my stepfather even TRIED suggesting this big shiny pretty pearlescent pink ballgown for me I bit back and DEMANDED all black. I was pissed. I had no date. I let my mom buy the Prom dress out of spite and even afterwards I cut it to pieces just for shits and giggles because I was so angry.
Then one day I actually followed through with my threats and ran away from home. I was free for the first time at 17! I could wear what I wanted!
Except I couldn't because I proceeded to pursue toxic relationships with controlling narcissistic men because of the way I was raised. The first guy insisted that me wearing a dress meant he could just have me be "free use" which I hated back then, I didn't know anything much about sex at all as I was sheltered and constantly grounded for minor shit. I totally just was not ready to be cutting potatoes for breakfast in a nightgown at 5 a.m. just to find myself mid-sex with potato skins still stuck on my hand while I'm trying to get the person to just STOP for like ONE SECOND so I can get on with wtf I was doing. FFs. The second guy decided that me wanting to wear a lot of bright colors meant he could belittle me for "listening to goth music but dressing like a total narc fed", except he would hit me. Like we were once just walking. Literally JUST walking. I was wearing just plain old brown flipflops and ran out of clothes so I threw on my old white skirt. I forgot it had little sequins sewn onto the hems. It started raining so I asked for his jacket so I could cover the skirt so it wouldn't get wet and become see through and he proceeded to slap and punch me "for making stupid decisions" and then belittled the sequins and shit as "little girly" details and decorations that I apparently should have known better than to dare to throw on just to walk to the corner store at 6 in the evening on a summer day. The skirt was ankle length, long as shit. Then I met the third guy who decided that any time I so much as wore anything that wasn't pants, it meant I was cheating. I stuck around in THAT relationship for 6 long grueling years. We didn't sleep in the same bed anymore after the second year as he would belittle me for my weight and lack of femininity, but then anytime I wore a dress it would turn into a fist fight. He would say that me wearing a dress in the house was me feeling guilty for cheating and trying to "look cuter than I normally am" so he wouldn't hurt me. He really messed my brain up. Around that time I was so desperately alone and withdrawn from everyone and everything that I would often spend weeks and weeks with no positive human interaction other than cashiering at my job I hated. I would lie and say I was working just to actually take the bus freely all over the city and I would buy cheap nightgowns from secondhand stores to wear in my room at night while I did college homework. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup with him, I wasn't allowed to wear dresses or anything pretty. Like a sad little child I would time when I knew he had to get online to play his video games and I would use that time to put on a whole face of makeup, shave my legs and wear the nightgowns just to "pretend" I was a very feminine and pretty woman in her own apartment enjoying life. It always made me cry to have to shower afterwards and take the makeup off.
I was 31 and had just been fired from one job while working my first day at a new one. I'm not sure what happened in that instant or maybe if I just had an "oh shit" moment but I just had a strong urge at that moment to just wear a dress again. I had a long week of nonstop dreaming and thinking about my 20s. How sad is it that society tries as hard as it can to make us think that our 20s are supposed to be this MAGICAL time you can NEVER get back? My 20s were so bad I'd literally probably actually toss myself off a bridge if I woke up and realized this was a dream and I'm actually still 22, homeless, dating a total shitbag who hits me, and being too traumatized to just stand up and DO SOMETHING. I also feel like there needs to be more of an understanding that not everyone's 20s are going to be awesome. My mother is a jealous asshole and didn't like that I dated three men in my 20s. She straight up believed it should be one and done since she hated herself for divorcing my Dad but SHE needed to understand that not everyone is just hunky dory OKAY with settling for the first smarmy toad that lands in their pond. I'll never forget her little shit eating grin and face when I brought #4 home and she said "oh sweetie I just hope you one day find someone who can just get your toes to curl." She thought all the break ups were strictly sex related. I asked her and she just steamrolled over it with "well you cant just dump everyone the second they turn you down for sex or ask for more, sometimes you need to be patient!" Like excuse me? Ah yes because as a woman in her 20s it was *impossible* for anyone to think that most of my break ups were about my money being stolen, people not keeping a job, apartments always having "surprise new roommates" that never clean their messes, or straight up abuse. Nope. Both of my parents and most of my relatives apparently assumed any break up between 20-somethings is just "lol, the sex is bad." As if we don't have any sort of character depth to us.
So I guess the point of this is that I am beyond grateful that 31 and 32 coming soon here are bringing me these sudden realizations that I probably should've had in my 20s. Its liberating to wear a damned dress to work and not WORRY about 1478349237498743987 scenarios that can go wrong. Its so much fun to finally fully dive into makeup and what different things do and what they're for. I feel like when I dress up and feel good about myself its truly just for me and it brings me joy. Not even 6 years ago I would have been absolutely panicking about the dresses in my closet I've collected but today I finally wore one outside. Its a skater dress and very flowy and I feel pretty and unafraid. I feel like I can do anything even dressed this way. I feel like this is what being in your 30s is supposed to be. Finally not giving a shit what other people think and accepting that different people feel pretty doing different things. Wearing a dress or dressing up shouldnt make you feel powerless

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Memory Transcript Subject: Vili, Venlil Citizen
Date [standardized human time]: December 1st, 2136
The absent adults were due to arrive any time by now. I navigated the crowd of children who milled about the field, taking a head count to ensure everyone was in sight.
Those who had family attending the excursion were bubbling with excitement to see their relatives while a couple others trailed behind me, asking me yet more banal questions about venlil society and how it feels to have fur and a tail.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” I had told April once. “It’s really, really… itchy. Have you ever had a bug crawling on you? Feels just like that. All the time.”
Chihiro didn’t approve as much of me saying that but Mercy seemed to enjoy the reaction I managed to get from the other kids. While I felt bad for exploiting the apparent human fear of insects, they were quick to forgive me, citing they “couldn't stay mad at a face like mine.”
Truthfully, I too began to enjoy seeing the children react to the things I'd tell them; the genuine nature in everything they did was more than I'd have expected from humans when I first arrived. Some of them would watch me with curiosity and wonder as we spoke, reminding me that this was a species who had only just been introduced onto the galactic stage and still had cause to gawk at the aliens.
Well, most of them.
Toward the edge of the gaggle of children was Lukas, moping away while trying to hide the black eye Amber had given him. A part of me was - flattered - disappointed that she'd risk herself to enact retaliation on my behalf, but I knew she wouldn't understand me were I to even tell her off about it.
Over the last few weeks, I'd gotten to know many of the children, though Lukas remained as distant as ever. In a way, I felt pity to see him so small even after witnessing the pleasure he got from putting others down and how infuriating I found his antics. He was full of anger and clearly had it misdirected at all non-humans for the actions of those who participated in the extermination fleet - at least he has reason.
I brushed at my ear to ward off the tingling sensation and let out an irritated growl. My hackles raised when I heard a sympathetic growl come from behind.
Turning about, I found that the source was Amber, also swiping at her ear in a mimicry of my action. I was far less bothered by her giddy snarl after having her do it every time she approached me, though it didn't make the itch at my back from almost jumping in fear go away.
“You do that a lot,” Amber giggled. “Is your ear itchy? Wait, don't answer that because I won't understand it.”
My ears whirled about and I tilted my head slightly to look directly at the strange little girl who'd been so eager to make friends with me from the very beginning. I'd accepted that, at least in her eyes, I was “Luka” and that I existed for her to talk to endlessly about her favorite hobbies despite her knowing she wouldn't understand anything I said in response.
Even then, I was still rather worried that I'd been so frequent with admonishing the more - sensible - pushy one that Amber had taken note. How many others could have noticed? I wasn't even sure how humans viewed me, but it wouldn't matter so much now that I was getting ready to return home to Luka.
I took a seat on the grass and found myself surrounded by a small following of kids that did the same. Amber, too, took a seat, but directly on my lap instead. I grunted as the surprisingly heavy child settled and I brought her head upon my scruff, allowing her to play with my paw.
“You only have three fingers and a thumb. That's pretty weird.”
“And you only have hair on the top of your head, that’s pretty weird too.”
“I’ll assume you were giving me a compliment…”
The other of the kids understood me and giggled at the back and forth as Amber raked a nail under my claws. While I was certain they were clean, Amber's scrutinizing stare felt as if I was being judged by my mother again.
“Your nails feel like a dog's. Maybe not as sharp.”
My translator interpreted that word as a “domesticated Terran predator” and I flicked my tail in indignation. I'd tried to shut out those who claimed I had traits akin to Earth fauna, though the accusations kept coming regardless.
From what I'd gathered, they believed my fur resembled that of a “sheep”, my tail and paws resembled a “cat”, and my ears were that of a “bunny”; now, I could add claws of a “dog” to that list. I had to keep reminding myself these humans didn't grow up knowing any other metric than that of the creatures from their home planet.
I knew the Terran Richard would return in the group that was due to arrive - Ma had made a point to inform me of such. The mention of the human's name spoiled my mood each time he was mentioned, and yet the Blackfox women continued to speak of him as though he was the most harmless thing.
I was not over the way he seemed to look down on my brother as an obedient servant, laying hands on him as though he were a dumb animal rather than a person. Luka had been the pillar that held me up since we were barely able to walk and talk, and it burned me up inside to see him crave the validation of predators when I knew he didn’t need it.
Amber, seemingly bored with one paw, grabbed the other as I let my arm remain limp. At first, I felt only the tickle as she played at the knuckles on this one as well, but there was a pause as she turned it over to face the palm outwards.
“Where'd you get this?”
I looked at my own palm and felt my heart skip a beat as Amber's claw pointed directly at the cut in my paw. I'd thought she had noticed it before, but the fact she'd call attention to it now when I was surrounded by the other children made a chill run up my back. I was still uncertain if bloodlust was a learned trait, and so being surrounded by juvenile predators at a moment like this did not sit well with me.
Trying to retract my paw, a lump raised in my throat as the human child’s grip hardened on my wrist. The other children watched with curiosity and neither of my assistants nor Martha were around to call for advice. I was to settle this on my own.
I asked with a shaky tone, “Amber?”
She rolled her head back until the tip of my snout brushed against her forehead. I got to look into the depths of her arboreal eyes, letting me see every red-blooded vein, every muscle twitch, every flash as they glistened in the red sun's light while the predator gave me her full, undivided attention. She even offered me her usual flash of the teeth. “Yeah?”
“Pah… Per… Pwers?”
I wiggled my arm in an attempt to indicate what I was asking to have released.
“Hold on, I'll let go in a sec.”
She understood me this time, but I sighed as she promptly ignored my request. She once again played with my claws, twisting them back and forth gently as she hummed to herself.
“Looks like it was made by your claws,” she concluded while continuing to toy with them. “This is why my momma always had us trim Butterscotch's claws, because she kept scratching me up when we played.”
The name once again tripped up my translator, describing it as a candy made from melted sugar and congealed milk fat. I tried to suppress the bile that built in my throat as I considered that worse than the item's description was the fact that she'd named an animal which had a reputation for scratching her after it.
Please, please don't throw away everything we'd built in this one moment.
“I miss Butterscotch,” she muttered. “But now I have new friends! Alien-friends!”
She rolled her head back again and looked back up at me.
“Like you! We're friends, right Luka?”
Her eyes shone with bright innocence and juvenile glee, making my fears melt away.
“Ie-e… I’ezz, frn'dz,” I confirmed. Apparently, my vocals didn't lend themselves to speaking Amber's tongue any better than hers did mine. Every word I spoke felt as though I needed to clear my throat after.
“Cool!”
With that conclusion, the dark-haired girl snapped back to my arm and pressed her lips to the back of my paw. I went slack as she did so and it felt as though all of my muscles had lost their function at once as I sat motionless and silent. I could see and hear the world around me and yet it didn't register that anything existed.
I felt her face lift from my flesh and Amber proclaimed proudly, “Momma did that every time I got bruised up and told me it helped with healing! So maybe you'll get better too!”
“Ah-hah,” was the only response I could manage, made on impulse as the rest of my brain felt a million light years away.
“Alright, everyone,” a voice called from behind us. “They're here, so clear out so they have somewhere to park!”
There was a commotion as the children all scrambled to their feet, including Amber, and they rushed with zealous squeals back toward the body of the camp. But not me.
My jaw remained slack as I stared at the back of my paw, focusing on the wet spot imprinted in my fur. It was a bite of sorts, described exactly as Tac had told me, and yet not a mark was left on my flesh save for the tingling of nerves as I seized up.
My back hit the grass and I let my tail curl around my leg as I held my paw to the sky. “Wuh…”
Something approached and kicked up the grass as I laid still and glared at my decidedly unharmed paw. My eyes traveled up to find Mercy standing over me with the corners of her mouth turned downwards.
“You good?”
“Why did you bite Tac?”
“Lord help us all,” she mumbled while rolling her eyes. “C'mon, let's get you outta here before you’re turned into ven-paté under some truck.”
“Uh huh.”
The elder teen’s grip helped me to my feet as I regained faculties, though I still felt weak. “It was a legitimate question, though,” I told her.
“It's just a sign of affection, I guess. I never really considered it so much before, y’know? It's not like you really think about why everything is when it's so normal, right?”
Speak for yourself, I wanted to tell her, though I held my tongue.
As I took a seat, the thrumming of engines could be heard coming from over the brow of the hill. Apparating as though it were a giant, segmented insect were the adult humans in their ramshackle vehicles, rattling down the hill with each occupied by at least five or six bodies in each of the dozen autos.
The children and elders alike rushed to greet their family as they parked and disembarked from the chain of gas guzzlers. Parents lifted their children in the air and hugged them while the elders chatted with them. But among the troupe of humans that had arrived, I knew something felt off.
“They’re one vehicle short,” I noted to Mercy.
“Hm?”
“I counted them when they left. They’re one short.”
Her piercing gaze scanned the fleet herself before she nodded. “Mike’s missing.”
Michael was the driver that Richard had departed with and so that helped explain the deadpan Terran’s absence. Luka and Hileen both recounted the same human by name when talking of their experiences with them, with both drawing the conclusion that he had to be the worst driver on Venlil Prime.
“Psst,” came a voice hissing from behind. “Mercy.”
Mercy turned to give attention to Tac as he sulked away from the crowd as usual, though I remained with my back turned to him while watching the humans interact.
The tip of my tail tickled at the grass watching children get smothered in affection by their parents, and they in turn received hugs from their elders as others chattered. I itched at the back of my palm where Amber's mouth had been as Johnny's parents each planted a similar bite on his cheek and forehead. Chihiro carried her brother on her shoulders as she chatted with her own parents with brimming snarls.
“Looks like Mike had a bit too much fun and ran his truck off the road,” Mercy told me as she came back from talking with Tac. “They're on their way.”
“I can do without seeing Crow.”
“Yeah, well, I could do with a place to practice rock climbing, but we can't always get what we want.”
“You humans really are strange for wanting to climb stuff.”
“It's in our nature, no matter how deeply buried.”
She playfully bumped me on the shoulder and I returned with a gentle lashing of my tail against her ankle to which she welcomed with hissing laughter. The teenager wandered off in the direction of her family's tent.
The crowd that had gathered to greet the returning humans was slowly beginning to disperse as the vehicles were unloaded of a variety of equipment. I was relieved to find that there were no signs of blood or death to be seen, assuaging the deep-seated worry that I had of the humans being on the hunt. As little trust as I had for Crow, there'd be no redeeming one so sordid as himself were he to be everything he was as well as a murderer.
I looked forward to seeing Luka again, even if the only thing he had to tell me was stories of his human coworkers. Perhaps now I had stories of my own experiences with humans to tell him and maybe I'd get to see that glimmer in his eye once again that had so long ago been tarnished.
Amber's delighted shrieks were heard over the commotion and I could spot her being held in the air above her father's head as her toothy snarl became somehow wider. Her legs kicked while she wriggled in the hefty human’s embrace and turned attention to her mother as she was lowered into her grasp.
Even here amongst predators, thoughts of home still hounded me. The closest I could recall mom or dad ever coming to that was when they brought me along to one of their outings for dinner where I was allowed to pick the venue. I was still not permitted to talk to other people even then, but I didn't mind at the time.
The gurgle of another gas-powered engine roared over the brow of the hill, prompting a few others and I to turn our attention upwards.
Breaching the horizon came the last truck, though I was curious to note that it appeared to be driving backwards. Tilting my head didn't give me any more of a vantage to figure out why the truck backed up down the hill, nor did it help decipher the mindless chanting that ramped up as the vehicle closed the distance.
“John Wayne's teeth, hey-a
John Wayne's teeth, hey-a
Are they plastic, are they steel-a”
A claw tapping me on the shoulder spooked me, though I had grown to suppress the instinct to jump and make a fuss. “Momma would like to talk before we send you off,” Mercy told me. “She's in our tent.”
I obeyed the summons, almost forgetting how to navigate the maze of rickety shacks and tents to find the Blackfoxes’ residence. It was a simple task, though, once I remembered that the elder sibling had given it a “groovy” paint job.
Approaching the government-issued yurt that had been painted with vivid flowers, I found it odd for it to not have a horde of humans gathered around. They'd typically mill about Martha's tent while she spoke with each of them about their concerns, though what became of their talks was beyond my knowledge.
I ducked inside without notifying Martha, finding her seated at the squat table that was situated in the middle of the tent. The matriarch turned her eyes up to face me and she happily set her insulated cup down.
“There's not really any room for more chairs,” she told me. “But feel free to take a seat anywhere.”
My ears gently brushed against the top of the tent before I sat down just to the right of where she rested. In this claustrophobic environment, I'd have assumed I was being lured into a trap before. At the very least, I still kept my ears on a swivel for signs of trouble, but now confidence outweighed caution.
We sat for a moment without saying anything as Ma adjusted her seat to look at me directly, leaning an elbow against the table as she reclined.
She asked, “Enjoy your stay?”
I scratched the scruff on my neck as I wondered that myself.
“No. Not at first.”
“But now you can say you did?”
“Everything here is a new experience. For me, and possibly every other person who'd have grown up under the Federation.”
“You pulled through, despite being surrounded by predators. That's more than can be said for the lady who stabbed a guy in panic on the first day of the Exchange Program.”
My ear waggled in entertainment to think someone had set the bar so low. What fool would brazenly assault a predator to begin with?
“There were a few times where I thought I'd need to run for the hills,” I explained. “The children you raise are an unadulterated look into what life was like back on Earth, if nothing else.”
Martha chuckled and covered her snarl with a palm as she spoke, “I will choose to believe that's a compliment, given your opinion on us before.”
“I'd say it's a stellar review in the face of almost drowning while under your employment.”
Her face fell a bit and she rubbed the back of her neck while averting her eyes. “Yeah…”
“That is to say!” I blurted out hastily. “Th-that everything else has made it worth my time.”
My desperation to clarify myself felt embarrassing and my ears turned warm as they went flush. Martha sat still for a moment before she spoke again.
“When Richard hired you, he told me you wanted to up your price. 1200 credits?”
“It's a big ask in hindsight, I know. I didn't realize how tight your budget was at the time and I'm grateful that you've offered me—”
She waved a hand with a shushing hiss.
“We don't need to worry so much about that now. Where I was going with that was, that you agreed to our terms yourself, and accepted with only a reasonable upcharge. No other local would've been so quick to take on this job for even quadruple the price!”
“Brashness is a quality of mine I'm becoming more familiar with,” I joked.
“Must be something in the water. But payment is why I summoned you here, actually. We have only a few members who were on board with having an ‘alien’ presiding over the children, and fewer still who contributed any funds.”
“So what you're offering is out of the pocket of only a couple of contributors. I see.”
“I hope it doesn't lessen your opinion of us to tell you that.”
I scratched my snout and exhaled, shaking free the impulse to inquire any further with a flick of my ear.
“So I suppose all there is left to do is arrange payment, and I'll be on my way?”
“It would seem so.”
Heavy footsteps shuffled across the grass outside though conversation from the crowd remained distant. They stopped right outside of the entrance and the canvas foyer rattled as knuckles rapped against the cloth.
“Martha, it's me,” growled a familiar voice. “Everyone decent?”
“You’re clear, come on in.”
The flap shot open and my paw balled into a fist as Richard froze upon spotting me. The predator’s blank gaze didn’t hide their confusion when I could clearly spot their eyes flicking between Martha and I.
“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Crow asked.
“We were just finishing up,” I responded, making no effort to hide my contempt for the interloper's presence.
Martha waved a hand to one of the chairs. “Have a seat, and I'll be right with you.”
Richard seemed almost deflated as he sulked over to the table. I resisted the opportunity to trip him with my tail in front of Martha to humiliate him, instead glowering at him as he afforded me a quick glance. I turned my attention back to the leader figure that was present while he took a seat.
“So 1100 credits was the agreed upon price, yes?”
“It was, though if there's anything else you desire outside the monetary value, you need only ask. We can't offer much, but I'm sure I have the ear of someone who can.”
“Hopefully you don't mean that literally,” I jested, putting on a facade of worry.
I could spot Crow watching Martha chuckle at my quip. His miserable expression was almost unreadable, save for the furrowing of the pelts on his brow.
Let him watch me charm his kind as easily as he thinks he can mine.
I raised my tail behind my head while I leaned against the table and curled the end loosely to convey appreciation. It was a sign that was rarely used outside of close bonding - that is to say, it'd been a while since I had been able to use it.
Recognition didn't light up in Martha's expression but I was content with projecting affection in any way I could. Understanding wasn't as important as the gesture itself.
“So might I at least know the names of those who did contribute? I'd like to express my thanks to them.”
Richard was the one who responded, “I wouldn't ask questions I wouldn't want the answers—”
“What he means,” Martha interjected. “Is that most contributors wouldn't like being mentioned by name. Aliens are still a polarizing subject and can crop up arguments that others may be obligated to avoid.”
My ears and tail sagged a bit. “Did my presence bring up that much of a problem?”
“More like it's one of a million other things these people can't agree about. But of those who I think would enjoy a bit of gratitude, you may already know some of them.”
“Oh? Tell me!”
I made eye contact with Crow who remained quiet as he cradled his chin in his palm against the table. His bored demeanor irked me in ways I couldn't describe.
“The Ito family, of whom you're already familiar with their daughter Chihiro, were the first to pledge. They're good folk and will happily accept your thanks. Next was myself, though I didn't give much. One of our cooks, Raksh, also contributed a bit, though that may have been more out of courtesy than anything else. And lastly…”
She lazily extended a claw toward Richard.
“... is Mister Crow here, your biggest donor who paid damn near half of your wage!”
Slowly, I felt myself deflate as enthusiasm made way for disappointment. I gritted my teeth to keep any brash words from escaping my lips.
“Closer to a third, actually,” he corrected her. “And with me already having the contact details of your brother, that means I can help set up the rest of the transaction.”
Even when I think I'm winning, he finds a way to one-up me.
“Would you mind giving us a moment, Vili? I think Mister Crow came here to say something and I’d hate to keep you from saying your goodbyes.”
Obliging her request, Martha and Richard waited patiently as I shuffled out of the tent. I hadn't realized how tightly my paw was clenched before reaching the outside where I felt my joints creak with relief as the fist unballed.
In the short time I'd been away, I secretly began to crave interaction from any of the humans I'd become acquainted with. My mind drifted to the slop that Big Joe always served, and how he always laughed every time I tried to inquire as to his full name. It wasn't quite dinner time, though, and so I then considered if any of the kids were still roaming about for me to tell stories to.
Whispers came from the tent before I could set a destination and my ears immediately perked up. I'd found that the humans’ ears were not nearly as effective as mine and so I found it easy to go unnoticed around them. I assumed they thought I was out of earshot by now.
I crouched on one knee and raised an ear to listen, though it was garbled hisses from this far. Curiosity got the better of me and I shuffled on my knees toward the tent, hiding in the shadow cast by an adjacent tent to mask my presence.
“... playing games with the lives of children,” came the low growl of Crow.
“Miss Ito and my own daughter are both very capable of defending themselves and the children from a venlil, Richard. You need to have faith that things can turn out alright.”
“Faith! She wanted to—”
There was a pause before I heard heavy stomping through the canvas. The mesh flaps that acted as windows were quickly torn shut one by one. I feared Crow would spot me, but he seemed too focused on hiding whatever it was he was talking about.
“She told me that she would've used my brains to add character development to a fucking snowglobe. Faith wouldn't have saved me if she carried through.”
“The fact that she informed you of her plot should be some small comfort that there's a piece of her that trusts you.”
“We don't know how many pieces there are! Should we wait for her to try to gore me on the street a second time? Perhaps you’ll get some insight if she sticks a claw through my eye?”
“I'd never let it come to that. I do wonder why it is that you're so worried about her. Did you not tell me you knew someone in her position?”
I heard a huff leave Richard before he spoke, “That was while she was getting help from professionals! What, do you hope to get her the therapy she needs from some squalid nowhere shantytown when we're eating out of the aliens’ trough ourselves?”
“It's a preferable alternative to leaving her at the mercy of the Federation's methods of ‘healing’. At least this way, she's getting help that matters.”
By this point, their voices had lowered into hissing whispers that even I strained to hear.
“I expect that you'll be more open with the others about your motives in the future, Martha. Maybe I have no rock to stand on when I say this, but your actions could very well draw the UN's eye, and the last thing I want is to have the Blues down here.”
“Is it related to your incarceration? Perhaps you were on parole before the bombing and fear the UN will be after you?”
I listened to rustling coming from my left and the conversation grew quiet. I turned to see Tac trotting along, surprisingly unaccompanied by Mercy as he shoveled a bowl of stew into his maw. He stopped mid-bite to look at me hunched over next to the Blackfoxes’ tent and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Shove off, I signaled to him. Come back later.
Weird, he replied before trotting off without fuss, thankfully.
There was something of a release from within the tent as I heard Crow and Blackfox alike exhale.
“I assure you, Richard,” Martha started again. “Whatever fears you have, you're protected by venlil laws of asylum as well as having the backing of myself-”
“We can do therapy later,” Crow butted in. “I'll take Vili home. I hope you're prepared to explain to your son that this mission we've embarked on wasn't the quest for glory he thought it'd be.”
“I've tried my best to tamp his expectations down, but I was hoping that Kanek would be open to publishing our actions. The bus that is taking the ones you rescued into town should be arriving shortly, and Kanek will be here soon after she's shushed them.”
I scampered off when I heard Crow trudge out of the tent, using my paws to crawl as quietly as I could manage out of sight. Blowing dirt off of the scab on my punctured paw, I walked off to find people I wanted to say goodbye to.

Most of the kids were already spending time with their families, but the few who still milled about and played were happy to give one last goodbye. Riley broke down in tears while we embraced and I now had a stain on the fur of my belly where her tears had soaked through.
I tried shifting by a group of the adults that were celebrating their return around a campfire. The looks I got as I did so were unnerving now that I understood the discourse that my presence had caused.
Approaching Crow, I pretended I didn’t know why he was slinking between groups and milling wanderers with a leering eye. He turned about to the sounds of my paws shuffling across the grass and threw his head backwards in a lazy greeting similar to how Mercy would.
“Are you ready to head back home?”
“I'm sure Luka has held the place down on his own… but yes.”
“Good, I'll bring the truck around for you and we'll be on our way.”
“Richa-a-a-a-ard!”
My ears perked up and I snapped my head about to meet the approaching Amber with her arms outstretched. Her voice bounced with each step as she rushed toward the towering Terran. Crow let out a grunt as she forced her arms around his waist and jumped about with glee.
“Mama said you were a party pooper! You told me you'd stay cool!”
“Aw, I'm sure you can forgive me for keeping to myself, Amber. Did you enjoy your time alone?”
Amber turned the corners of her mouth down in a pouty expression. “No, I didn't have anyone to help me with my homework!”
Richard patted the young girl on the back and began trying to pry her arms from him.
“I'm sure you managed just fine, you're smarter than the average second grader. And how did Vili treat you?”
I folded my ears back when Crow's eyes turned back to me.
“Vili? That's Luka!”
Amber finally unlatched herself from Crow and rushed over to my side, jabbing a claw toward me.
“See? The ear is the same color! And she knows when I say her name! Mercy told me venlil don't have boobies like human girls do but she's a girl! You were wrong!”
A couple of the voices closest to us erupted in the familiar, grating laughter that accompanied humans everywhere. I tilted my head while trying to grasp what it was Amber said that had earned such a response. Human and venlil physiology was different for sure, but I'd never considered it so entertaining.
Perhaps it's some in-joke that I'm not knowledgeable on, I thought, humans seem to like those.
Crow lowered his eyes to the ground and pursed his lips before squatting down and beckoning Amber toward him. She obeyed and the taller Terran cupped a hand over her ear, whispering quietly.
Amber's eyes lit up as Crow continued and her mouth hung agape. “Lu- ah, er…you're a twin?!”
In a rush, Amber grasped the fur around my ribs and began shaking me back and forth. “You were hiding it from me-e-e!”
Given this small child was still two-thirds my weight, I wobbled like a sapling in the wind as I tried to grab for the scolding child's wrists.
“Please. Stop. Gonna hurl.”
The little girl groaned and buried her face in my stomach. “You must think I'm pretty stupid too, huh?”
Mustering as much of my understanding of English, I belched out, “No.”
Amber buried her face deeper into my pelt while exhaling.
“l'ou… no donb.”
She raised her head to look me head-on, something which I couldn't return in full for the placement of my eyes.
“I'ou's… Zm’rd. Kappy. Ngai'z.”
“You stink at English,” Amber giggled while shooting me one last face-splitting snarl. I mashed her cheeks between my paws and she relented her grasp.
“I neeb go, fr'nd! O’gee?”
“Okay! I promise I'll try to know how to say ‘hi’ next time! And more.”
Richard butted in, “I'm sure she'll hold you to that promise, but I think it's time we got going.”
As soon as he had suggested as much, I caught sight of a human who was only covered in pelts from the waist down stagger into view. The glassy eyed stare and uncoordinated movement were all too familiar to me even without knowing where they were before.
They growled, “Fucks the alien still doing here?”
“Just about to get going, Paul,” Richard shot back. “Don't concern yourself with her.”
“It has been here long enough! Move along, little lambchop!”
“Man, lay off,” another human intervened. “She's as welcome here as any other guest.”
“Nah, Paul has a point. How do we know she ain't some Baby Burner spy or some shit? Get the xeno outta here!”
The humans quickly began bickering amongst themselves and I felt the firm grasp of Crow on my shoulder tug me away from the commotion. Amber trailed behind, watching the debates unfold behind us while we made our way along.
Crow opened the door in a raggedy truck in even worse condition than the others, standing aside for me to enter. While I didn't want to test the predator's patience in light of the tension behind us, I whirled about to give Amber one last goodbye hug. Her grasp around my neck was like iron though the wet streams on her face were all I needed to know that I should let her have this.
“You're gonna come back, right? You and your brother are gonna come and say hi?”
I saw no point in trying to cobble together an articulate sentence in her own language that'd fall flat as soon as I spoke. I considered my words carefully while I clasped her hands in my paws.
“I want to, but I have class that I need to catch up with, as well as I'm in need of a stable job once I'm through with this one. I don't know when I'll be back, but I want you to know that you've made this the best two weeks I've had in a long time, Amber. I don't know how much of my language you understand, but your enthusiasm has surpassed all barriers.”
She stared back up at me with her lips locked in an “oh” pose before turning to Richard who still watched with a lazy gaze.
“She said ‘maybe’.”
That seemed to suffice for Amber as she broke free and ran off squealing with her arms in the air as she always did when she was excited. I'd gotten used to the ear-splitting shrieks of the kids, and my ears didn't even fold back on reflex anymore.
“That's not what I said,” I grumbled to Crow.
He clicked his tongue as he held the door open for me. “Less is more. She's a kid, so she may not fully grasp your struggles anyway.”
With a huff, I crawled into the truck and kicked my feet up onto the dashboard while Crow ducked in behind the wheel. He twisted the key and the vehicle gurgled to life.
Strangely enough, I found that instead of the truck lurching forward, Crow put the vehicle into reverse, using the mirror to navigate up the hill. The truck seemed to make sure we felt every rock and bump that it struck, and I eventually decided to straighten out my posture so that I didn't get folded in half by a particularly bad bump.
Richard seemed unfazed by the sickness-inducing commotion, guiding the truck up the hill with a steady gaze. Stopping at the top, he whipped out his holopad and tapped away while quietly mumbling to himself.
“... hundred-fifty year-old country shit, sure why not.”
He tapped once more and the truck's audio system whirred with the melodic twang of a stringed instrument accompanied by simple percussion. A human's strange croon came over the speaker in a curious tune.
“You held me up, held me down
Made me crazy, then turned me around…”
Richard twisted the knob to bring the volume down to a more agreeable level and I caught a glimpse down at the camp. A group of humans were now gathered where I'd been talking with Amber just moments before.
Now, I could spot the human Paul bumping chests with a human much larger than he, noses almost touching in a clear display of aggression as they howled at each other. Humans pointed claws at one another and argued while yet more flocked to the scene of the commotion. Whether their motives were to disperse or exacerbate was yet to be seen.
“You were my shelter and my storm
Made me cold, then you made me warm…”
Crow finally put the truck in gear and we rolled backwards yet again, leaving the only sight before me the peaks of the Belimal retreating beneath the grassy brow.
As I let the truck shuttle me back to my brother, I yearned for the comfort of my own bed and blankets, for the soft hum of my own air conditioning unit, and for the obnoxious snoring and sleep-talking of my own flesh and blood.
From here, one might even be able to see the highest of the foothills from which my roots would lay betwixt, a reminder that the pangs of home weren't just knots in my stomach. Luka and I had a long way to go to get away from home, and even longer to be rid of it.
“One step forward and two steps back, nobody gets too far like that
One step forward and two steps back, this kind of dance can never last.”
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